#i just haven't been brave enough

[cappurrccino]

can i finish two books in one day? could i start and finish epitaph before the end of the year? possibly! who knows!

[valiant-portabella-pirkko]

Alright know what here's a little Guild Wars 2 reblog game for everybody; what mounts (if any) do your characters have in their canon, do they have names? Personalities? How'd they meet??

Spill it all below, tell me about all your creatures!!

[sunflower-cathedral]

Lets Talk About The Perception Of Ren This Season.

Going to try say this as politely as possible, this season it just feels like some people are Infantilizing and really boiling down the relationships he holds with certain hermits to something that it's not + turning Ren into a one dimensional person and character.

I wanted to try address a couple things in this post regarding that; How the fanbase has been reacting to how hermits are treating him on camera mainly (Long Post, so it's under Keep Reading <3).

Regarding how the neighbourhood of ministries have been treating Ren;

They are all very close friends. and have been for up to 10 or so years. Please, for the love of everything holy watch old series like Foolcraft, Hermitcraft UHCs, the Renskall Podcast, older seasons of Hermitcraft etc. Hell, even watch my favourite VOD; Sea Of Thieves. You quickly learn the dynamic they have, and the fact they all go off on playful banter (and also re: British Humour/Love that Cleo and False have mentioned off-handedly in streams and videos before being typically brash and sarcastic. Also not to mention how Martyn is British; I'll get to that later though.) There's a really specific dynamic where Iskall, False and Stress are close friends with him and care about him deeply; and Ren has openly talked about how much the Hermits have helped him out during IRL struggles. The roles and performance they put on for the camera is not going to always reflect how they treat each other off camera, let alone show how much they all deeply care for one another. Cleo has outright mentioned how much they care about Ren on stream too even. A lot of hermits have mentioned how much they appreciate Ren, and have complimented him + said affirmations on stream.

Regarding hermits ribbing him/not playing along;

If something happened that was uncomfortable for Ren or Too Much, it would've been mentioned after and not included in anyone's POVs. Ren's whole kinda thing is being a Theatre Kid, his whole thing is being dramatic and taking up roles for the sake of creating fun storylines and contents for the other hermits to either play along with or turn into something else. If a hermit took it a way Ren wasn't happy with He Would Bring It Up To The Hermits Because They Are Adults And Communicate Amongst Each Other. Like I mentioned above, the banter is very much more part of british humour and culture/attitude, as well as their general dynamic going on.

I've even seen concerns of it being bullying, which is far from the case. I think a lot of us longer term viewers have a better grasp of how much they all care about each other and how deep the friendship goes.

The other concern I have is how like, the joke of him being a 'Wet Pathetic Dog' is kind of going a bit overboard to the point where it's the only defining factor people are mentioning about him? and that like, so much so it genuinely feels more like the fanbase is infantilizing him or making him out to be this damsel in distress who needs to be rescued. He's a grown adult man, who can more than easily speak up for himself and advocate for himself. Minimizing him down to this pathetic useless character who can't do anything is just rude and misses the point of the characters he tends to play when doing storylines. He tries his hardest to organize server events and include all the hermits in things, which is both great for content and a great show of how much the hermits are willing to go along with his ideas and either see where it plays out or evolve it further. Mind you there's always MULTIPLE if not ALL the hermits being willing to play along in these events!! from the mining event this season to the king Ren arc last season all the way to log fellas in season 4.

[girlivealwaysbean]

i want to have a iwtv friend that reads fic sooo bad so then we can send each other recs and say omg yes that's my favorite line too!!!!!!!! and so they can brave the tags for me and find me the stuff i want and love :(((((

[sincerity--extreme]

Sometimes I forget how sneaky trauma can be, how little things can become huge in a blink of an eye, and even though I've been here many times for many reasons, I'm always left completely baffled over how much things, no matter how big or small, can affect people and completely change us, for example, right now I'm thinking of how much I underestimated the simple act of being able to close my bedroom door and just existing by myself with a little bit silence that simply does not exist in this house otherwise, I never really thought of it, I'd always just get up and close my door when I wanted or needed silence, and now I can't do that and it's so incredibly overwhelming I just want to cry and rip my ears out but I'm too exhausted to even make a sound whenever I actually reach that point

[glow-in-the-dark-death]

Cujo

"Cujo where in the world do you keep finding all these things?"

Danny looked down at a very proud looking Cujo who had recently returned from his trip.

On each trip he brought back things that he liked, lately Cujo was bringing back the most curious things.

From pillows and toys to weapons and weird clothing.

One time even bringing a golden lasso.

This time it seemed to be a sword and a jar filled with liquid with what he was pretty sure was a human organ.

"Cujo please don't take peoples organs, I don't want to get in trouble"

A sentence he never thought he would be saying,

What a day.

~

Alfred: "I seem to be missing my favourite pair of socks?"

~

Wonder Woman is questioning who was brave/stupid enough to steal her lasso from practically under her nose.

~

Damian: Father! Who took my weapons away, I haven't even been grounded!"

~

Lex Luthor: "Where's all the kryptonite I just bought?!"

~

Ra's: *squinting* "Something just happened."

~

Sorry this one is shorter than usual I'm in the middle of class.

Bye!

~

Just an Idea

[lardguz]

A Hero's Buttery Addiction

Just a little short thing this time, featuring a certain Hylian hero discovering the joys of cooking with butter! Inspired by @plumpybread whose art helps me visualize how to write larger sizes WAY better than I used to. I know he's like, a legend in the community already but if you haven't seen his work somehow, please check it out! His art is so good!

A cool breeze blew through the air in Rito Village, blowing south from the Hebra Mountains. Link suppressed a shiver, feeling the brisk chill around the bottom of his tunic. He adjusted the feather-lined garment quickly, pulling it down to cover his abdomen, but it immediately started riding up on him as soon as he continued walking. The Hylian grumbled to himself, opting to try and ignore it while he stocked up on supplies at the general store. Link walked into the cozy open-air hut, nodding at the Rito shopkeeper with a warm smile as he piled all of the goat butter the shop had in stock into his satchel. He handed a pouch of rupees to the Rito as payment before walking out of the store to head back out adventuring Hyrule. 

Link didn’t want to admit it to himself, but the Hylian has packed on some pounds in recent months. Once he had discovered the joys of cooking with goat butter, he never looked back, and the delicious, creamy, fattening substance had clearly affected his waistline. The sliver of pale, soft chub that peeked out from his warm Rito Tunic gave him a slight muffin top, and his thighs ever so slightly brushed together when he walked. Link seemed ignorant to these changes to his body, though; mentally, he attributed his tighter clothing to an ill-advised attempt at making a fan powered raft that fell apart, plunging him into icy cold water while fully clothed. To him, the cold water must have shrunk his clothing somehow! It couldn’t have anything to do with his new culinary obsession, surely! 

The pudgy Hylian sat at a cooking pot, sorting through his available ingredients. Link pulled out a slab of prime meat, a large hearty bass, some Hylian mushrooms, and a stick of goat butter. He paused, thinking for a moment. If just one stick of goat butter improved the flavor of a dish so much… Why not use two? Reaching into his bag, Link grabbed another stick of butter, and tossed it into the pot with the rest of the food, watching it melt and coat the meat and mushrooms, sizzling delightfully. As soon as his meal was done, Link immediately took an eager bite, too hungry to wait any longer. The flavors exploded in his mouth, coating his tongue in a rich, oily sensation. This was amazing! He scarfed down the rest of the pile of meat, seafood, and mushrooms, patting his pudgy stomach in satisfaction. Link knew one thing for sure now: he was going to have to keep trying butter in more recipes if it made them taste this good!

 

Months passed, and Link’s reputation for cooking rich, decadent meals for himself grew. Shops all over Hyrule knew to stock up on extra goat butter, as the eager Hylian hero would travel to each and every settlement just to get his fix. As his desire for egregious amounts of butter grew, so did his waistline. Link had absolutely blown up since discovering that adding more butter to his cooking made it taste even better. The Hylian man was undeniably morbidly obese, and many of the citizens of Hyrule were a little bit worried about how rapidly he had descended into obesity, but none of them felt brave enough to try and broach the subject with the rapidly-fattening hero. 

Link has taken to using his Purah Pad to teleport him directly to each town to minimize the amount of walking he had to do. For some reason he had been getting very tired even from brief walks lately, and his horse had been similarly exhausted just from short rides. Link materialized outside the shrine at Hateno Village, taking time to gather himself before the arduous walk downhill towards the general store. He somehow still didn’t realize the cause of his growing problems was the hundreds of pounds he’d packed onto his body in mere months. Link’s body was bloated with lard, to the point that he was nearing half a ton of fat on his once-lithe frame. His face was framed by a set of cherubic chipmunk cheeks, already flushed and sweaty just from a few slow, wobbling steps away from the shrine. His neck was buried under a ring of flab, graduating him from a double chin to a pronounced triple chin. His once-toned arms were replaced with bloated sacks of blubber the size of pillows, sagging down his sides and forcing his arms out at an angle even when not in use. His elbows were long buried under all of this lard, and even his wrists and hands were beginning to plump up at the joints, making bending his fingers and grabbing food a chore. His pecs had ballooned into flabby breasts that were just starting to droop down either side of his gut. The tunic he currently wore, his blue Champions Tunic that he was given over one hundred years ago, was stretched tightly across his chest, functioning more as a bra than a more decent article of clothing and riddled with rips and tears from stretching across so much flab. His former muffin top had graduated into a stack of fluffy love handles, pooling over the straight waistband of his trousers and , when combined with his flabby chest, were half of the reason his arms stuck out at such an angle now. His bloated thighs touched at every point no matter how far apart his spread his legs to walk, forcing him into a pronounced waddle. He couldn’t even bend his knees anymore; the flab from his thighs had long since enveloped the joints, joining his meaty calves in the downfall of his once-proud stride.  

His biggest asset, however, was his gut. The slab of lard was a monument to his gluttony, forming an apron of flab that sagged down to his buried knees. Every slow, measured step he took, his stomach slapped against his meaty thighs, sending his entire flabby body jiggling and wobbling endlessly. The obese hero was sweaty and exhausted after just a few steps, panting and wheezing from the exertion of shifting just under half a ton of fat with every shuffling step, but his craving for butter-soaked food kept him from giving up on his journey to the store.  

When the sweaty, huffing pile of lard finally made it, he shoved the door open with his titanic gut, dreading what came next. Link knew intimately well that doors and him didn’t mix these days, even if he refused to accept or acknowledge why. The Hylian was an absolute wall of flab and rolls, trying to force himself through a tiny doorway. The shopkeeper could only stare in horror and fascination as the legendary hero attempted to squeeze his enormous bulk into the store, wheezing from the exertion. He grabbed the doorframe with his pudgy fingers, trying to force his double-wide hips through, but his rolls and folds were firmly wedged. Link continued panting and groaning, his bulky body oozing around either side of the door frame, when an ominous cracking noise started to occur. Suddenly, with a loud snap, the wood of the doorway and the surrounding walls splintered, and Link stumbled through into the shop, his entire body wobbling from the sudden forward momentum. Barreling forward at speeds his obese form weren’t meant to handle, the lard-laden Hylian hero overbalanced, landing on his cascading gut with so much force that it shook the entire building. Merchandise clattered to the floor from the display shelves as shockwaves rippled through his body like an ocean, and he lay on the floor gasping for air after all of his weight knocked it out of his poor, overtaxed lungs. The shopkeeper looked at the damaged doorway in horror, knowing that no matter how much butter the legendary hero was here to purchase, it wouldn’t pay for the repair costs, especially with his increased visits. Something had to be done about the gluttonous hero, but what? 

After the disastrous incident at the Hateno General Store, shopkeepers around Hyrule had begun taking Link’s purchases to him as he waited outside their shops, to minimize damage done to their buildings. It was a solution, for sure, but many worried about what would happen when Link grew too large to make the short walks to their stores from the teleport points at the towns’ shrines. Many ideas were proposed: shop stalls set up right at the shrines just for Link, some sort of horse and cart system to carry the growing hero to his destinations, even a conveyor belt to carry him to the store entrances was suggested! However, Link ended up solving the problem himself while cooking one day. He’d begun using his Ultra Hand powers to help him grab ingredients once his arms became basically useless at grabbing things around his enormous bulk. As he sat on a log that his fat ass almost completely devoured, using his prosthetic’s powers to move a fourth stick of butter into the cooking pot for the large hunk of gourmet meat he was sauteeing, Link got an idea. He used his fat sausage fingers to switch the function of his hand to the Copy ability, which usually only worked for building materials. He noticed that the sticks of butter were able to be copied, somehow. Confused, Link decided to try it out, multiplying one stick of goat butter into ten, and moving the pile onto his chest where he could inspect them better. The sticks of butter had a gentle greenish-blue glow to them, but otherwise appeared to be normal sticks of butter.  

Link devoured the butter-soaked gourmet meat as he contemplated the glowing butter sticks nestled between his ample breasts when suddenly he was struck by an idea. Straining against the rolls of his arm fat, he craned his overburdened arm towards his chest, grabbing a stick of greenish butter in his fattened hands. Link brought the strange butter towards his pudgy lips slowly, his bountiful lard making it hard for him to reach his mouth with his pillowy arms. He finally shoved the stick of butter into his mouth, the oily fats coating his tongue. His blue eyes lit up as he swallowed: it was incredible! The duplicated butter tasted even richer and more delicious than normal goat butter, and that was without cooking it! Link shoved his hands under his bloated pecs, shifting their mass upwards and forcing the nine remaining sticks of magical butter directly in range of his greedy maw. The greedy Hylian began slurping down the stack of entire sticks of butter while using his Ultra Hand to create more copies, piling them up on his chest within easy eating distance. Link had no idea of the future he had just very quickly resigned himself to with this discovery, but the shopkeepers of Hyrule wouldn’t have to worry about their entryways being broken anymore. 

The citizens of Hyrule whispered about what had become of their legendary hero. Shopkeepers quickly noticed his increasingly-frequent trips to their stores had stopped abruptly, leaving them with mixed feelings of concern for what could have happened to Link, but also relieved that they wouldn’t have to keep paying for hefty repair bills anymore. Only those who were closest to Link knew where he’d ended up, and why he’d disappeared altogether. When asked by any concerned Hylians, they would simply assure them that Link was fine, comfortable, and happily retired from adventuring. 

Sidon, the newly-crowned king of Zora’s Domain, walked swiftly through the thick underbrush of a secluded forest region tucked away from any towns or roaming travelers. The red scaled Zora knew the way to go intimately, having made the journey many times over the year or so he’d been coming here in secret. Plus, it wasn’t too hard to find what he was looking for—All he had to do was follow the sounds of loud gurgling and slurping. Sidon crested the top of a hill, looking down into what had once been a lush, forested valley. The trees had long since been buried, the valley completely filled by a churning, wobbling mass of pale flab. He knew the mountainous blob below him was his most cherished partner, Link, the hero of Hyrule. 

Sidon hopped down from the forested hill, sliding on his finned feet until he landed on the soft form below. It was harder than ever to tell exactly what part of Link’s swollen body he was standing upon, but Sidon was pretty sure it was his stomach. His gigantic gut was constantly stuffed with the replicated butter that Link was somehow constantly creating more of, causing the cascading waterfall of flab to grow more and more every moment as his body worked overtime to convert the literal gallons of butter he consumed into adipose. Sidon could feel the mountainesque stomach below his feet groaning and churning, causing the blobby body of his boyfriend to always be in some sort of state of movement even after long ago losing his mobility.  

The Zora king began the long hike towards the center of Link’s growing mass, clinging desperately to whatever rolls and folds he could grab whenever a particularly strong tremor shifted the oceanic mass like tides crashing upon a shore. Sidon crested the top of Link’s stomach rolls after twenty minutes of climbing, trying to identify more parts of the blob’s body to use as landmarks. He could pretty easily find Link’s breasts due to his nipples, though they were a lot lower down than Sidon was now. Link’s tits were so huge that they’d lost all shape and form, sagging under their weight to the point that they drooped towards the lowest rolls of his gut. He could also guess where Link’s arms were from the location of his chest, gazing at the swollen pancake stacks of rolls directly above the meaty breasts. Sidon figured that Link’s hands must be buried under literal feet of flab at this point, looking at the divots where they’d long ago vanished. Even if he could unearth his fands from all of that lard, there was no way he’d be able to use them for anything aside from his Ultra Hand’s powers; his digits must be so coated in fat that they’d be barely recognizable as hands anymore.  

Once he’d figured out where Link’s useless arms were, finding his head was easy. Sidon looked at the recessed dip in the blobby mountain between the boulder-sized fat deposits that used to be Link’s biceps and forearms towards where a constant flow of glowing green liquid was manifesting and pouring downward into. Sidon swiftly scrambled over Link’s bloated cleavage, taking care not to slip; he’d once made that mistake and it took him hours to wrench his leg free from the cavernous crevasse. Once he’d crested the twin hills of lard, it was easy going from there, as Link’s chins had multiplied into a nice staircase of neck rolls. As he descended down, Sidon entered what could only be described as a cavern of fat formed by the encroaching mass of Link’s flabby jowls and collapsing back rolls. He followed the green glow of magically-duplicated butter deeper into the humid cave, the sounds of hungry slurping and desperate moans growing louder and louder. Finally, Sidon reached the end of the vast fat cave and approached his boyfriend’s bloated face eagerly.  

Link’s face was no longer recognizable, so covered in flab that no distinguishable features remained. Fat has long ago collapsed over his forehead, covering his eyes completely. His pointed ears were buried between rolls of cheek and back fat, as was his golden hair. All that remained was his mouth, though even that wasn’t enough to recognize him by. His lips had plumpened considerably, and were pinched between his engorged jowls into a permanent pout as he sucked down hundreds of gallons of melted magical butter. Sidon didn’t mind though, he loved Link no matter how fat he got. The Zora hero plopped himself down on one of Link’s cheeks, kissing his partner’s flabby face before settling down to watch him eat for a while. One thing was for sure, Link sure made a comfortable bed no matter where you laid on him now. 

[my-castles-crumbling]

dark - Jegulus Microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 330

"I'm disappointed in you, Potter," Regulus said lightly as they walked back to the castle.

James though him a startled look, clearly taken aback.

Regulus, however, just frowned. "You spent weeks trying to convince me to go on this date with you. From what you said, ages planning what I'll admit was an amazing day." He fought back a blush as he continued on, trying not to lose his nerve as James broke into a stunning grin. "You've been brave enough to hold my hand not once, but three times, and I've made it pretty clear that I enjoyed it." Again, he fought not to chicken out when James beamed at this. "But we're heading back, it's nearly dark, and you still haven't kissed me. What's happened to your Gryffindor courage?" He finished off by raising his eyebrow, trying to hide the way his heart was bruising his ribcage with how fast it was beating.

James, however, laughed. "What if I was waiting for you to kiss me?" he asked. But he stopped walking, using Regulus's hand, which was in his, to pull him to a stop as well, turning him so they were facing each other.

"I'm not a Gryffindor," Regulus breathed, stomach flip-flipping as James stared into his eyes. He bit his lip and raised his chin challengingly. "Looks like it's up to you."

James just smiled softly, stepping forward to wrap one arm around Regulus's waist, pulling their bodies together. His other hand moved to cup Regulus's jaw. The entire thing made the younger boy breathless. "Up to me? I seem to remember you calling me an idiot only half hour ago. Do you think I can handle it?" he smirked.

"You'll manage," Regulus whispered, eyes trailing down to James's lips.

James's lips, which moved to land squarely on his own.

James's lips, which set his entire body on fire, his brain melting in an instant.

James's lips, which he never wanted to be without ever again.

[slashpaws]

being alive may suck

bottom text

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 20: The New Normal

Summary: Your pack settles into a routine as you learn to adapt to the shifting relationships between all of you.

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader, Price x Gaz

Word Count:

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, p in v sex, unprotected sex, threesome, BDSM elements, dry humping, language, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, angst, PTSD, flashbacks, nightmares, smoking, Gaz being the prettiest boy alive.

A/N: Not much to say about this one. Hope it's worth a two week wait...

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

A yelp leaves your lips as your feet leave the ground, your body hitting the floor rather ungracefully. You roll from the force of the impact, stopping flat on your back. You stare up at the ceiling, trying to catch the breath that was forced from your lungs from your impact with the floor. 

“You left yourself too open again.” 

“Well how was I supposed to know which way you were moving?” You say, slowly pushing yourself back up to sit as you catch your breath. 

“You can’t, that’s why you have to keep yourself guarded at all times. Anyone you’re fighting will do worse than that as soon as your guard is down.” 

You stare at Simon’s shoes as he stops a foot away from you. The laces are pulled to the exact same tension on both sides, double knotted to avoid them coming undone and becoming a tripping hazard. Even the way his crew socks are pulled up over the legs of his sweatpants speaks volumes of how on guard he is. Always ready for a fight, always ready so that nothing can get in his way and put him at risk. 

He lets out a quiet sigh as he drops down into a squat in front of you. “How have you been sleeping?”

Your gaze finally leaves his shoes, trailing up his legs to his arms where they rest on his knees. You follow the lines of his tattoos until you reach where his shirt sleeve covers the rest. You work your way up until you reach his mask-covered face, finally meeting his brown eyes. There's a softness to them now you've never noticed before, something you might not have taken notice of now had you not become brave enough to look that deep. 

“Better,” You clear your throat, dropping your gaze to the mat. “But still not great.”

This morning had started with you shaking in Johnny's hold, his arms wrapped tightly around you as he whispered soft reassurances in your ear. The nightmares haven't gone away since your confession, nor have they even really lessened, but at least now you aren’t suffering alone when they wake you from your sleep. At least now your pack knows how to best comfort you when your mind insists on silently torturing you. 

You still haven’t slept alone since they returned, nor have you spent any great length of time in your room. There’s still a lingering feeling of someone watching, of something staring at you from inside the walls. You’ve checked while they were at training for any cameras you might have missed, but you’ve come up empty handed. Maybe it was just the knowledge that your safe space had been invaded causing that paranoid itching in the back of your mind to linger. None of the guys have complained about you staying with them at night, though perhaps you have your confession about your nightmares to thank for that.  

“The nightmares?” Ghost asks, snapping you from your thoughts. 

You nod. “Yeah.”

The risk of them finding out about your nightmares has made you less afraid to sleep, but still the fear of what horrible scene your mind will come up with keeps you awake. You pull your knees to your chest, making yourself small as you sit in front of him. He’s just so big, so broad and bulky, truly the ideal specimen of a perfect alpha. He’s the kind of alpha your fellow omegas at the institute would whisper about. Some big, strong protector who would provide for them and keep them safe and satisfied. 

If only they could see you now. 

Despite the shift in your relationship with Simon, things haven’t changed much. He’s still the quiet, looming figure behind you, posing a silent threat to anyone who might think about approaching you. He still places a hand on your back to steer you, still stands closer behind you than he used to, still looks at you with a softer look in his eyes than you’ve ever seen before. Sometimes you’re tempted to push that boundary first, to lean in and rest your head on his broad chest, feel the muscle under his shirt again. You want to press up against his back while he sleeps and let his warmth seep into your bones. Sometimes when you’re alone and your thoughts begin to run rampant, you think about how you have nothing to fear because Simon would rip the face off anyone who tried anything. 

Of course, he has to be here in order to do that. 

You won’t have to be alone again. John had promised you that much. He’d fight harder to make sure you’re not alone again. Not, at least, for a while if it can be avoided. 

“You’re thinking too much again.” Simon says, pulling you from your thoughts for a second time. 

You stare at him, suddenly realizing he’s moved closer to you. You’re not sure when he did, too caught up in your own thoughts to be aware of your surroundings. It’s dangerous, your ability to sink into your mind and get lost there. You know it and they know it. Yet you can’t help it. It’s safer in your head, easier to exist in a place where you’re in control, where you can predict what’s going to happen next. 

Simon’s hand wraps around your ankle, tugging you closer to him. You fall flat on your back on the mat, body sliding partially under his. He looms over you, settling his weight across your thighs as his hands come to rest on either side of your head. Your eyes are wide as you stare up at him, your heart pounding in your chest, as it usually does when you’re in this position.  

“Now, what do you do when someone pins you?” He asks, the sharpness back in his gaze as he stares down at you. 

Lay here and don’t move, or at least that’s what you want to do currently. He’s just so big and warm, and the way he makes you feel so small under him has your head spinning. How you wish he’d press his body into yours, let you feel him completely. The scents in the air begin to thicken as you find your head tilting back on instinct, baring your throat to him in submission. 

His hand closes around your chin, forcing your gaze back on his. “Focus.” He says, projecting his scent more to try and cover yours. It goes straight to your head, your gaze sharpening just slightly as you stare up at him. The scent of alpha around you has your mind racing in several different directions. You know you should be afraid, but it’s Simon. You know him, you trust him. He’d never hurt you intentionally, but he’s still an alpha. 

The strong musky scent has something in the back of your head prickling, your instincts teetering on the edge of safety and danger. You know the alpha over you, but what if it was someone else? That was the point of all of this, right? You won’t be fighting off Simon or John. It will be someone unfamiliar, someone who wants to hurt you. 

Simon’s fingers leave your chin, trailing down your neck. Your pulse thrums faster as his fingers near the base of your throat. The scent of alpha is strong in your nose. How easily he could slip his hand around the back of your neck and squeeze, rendering you brainless and under his control. 

Your mind goes blank and you move without even thinking. Your fist slams into his side right where he’d taught you to hit. He buckles at the sudden attack and you use his moment of surprise and disorientation to free one of your legs and drive your knee right into his stomach. You push him off of you, scrambling back a couple feet before your mind begins to clear. Simon lays on the mat, almost wheezing as he tries to get the air back into his lungs. 

You flounder there for a moment, watching the giant alpha you had just incapacitated. You don’t know where that came from or how you’d managed it. No, that’s not totally true. You know where the fear had come from, but you also know Simon would never do something like that to you. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You say, shifting onto your knees in case Simon retaliates, in case he gets angry at you for attacking him. “I don’t know what just happened.”

“The hell are you apologizing for?” He coughs out, pushing himself onto his side. “That was bloody brilliant.” 

You blink in surprise, taken aback by his response. “What?” 

“That’s what you were supposed to do.” He says, pushing himself the rest of the way up onto his knees. “I asked what you should do if you’re pinned, and you did it.” 

You continue to stare at him, not quite sure how to process the sort-of praise from him. He had asked you what you should do if you were pinned, and you had done what you were supposed to do. It hadn’t quite been for the right reasons, but you did do something correctly. You managed to incapacitate him enough to get out from underneath him, and without him going easy on you. 

Maybe the training is working after all. 

“Do that in a fight, you might just give yourself enough time to run.” He says, pushing himself up to stand. “Good job.” 

You continue to stare at him as he passes you, heading to the bench where your belongings sit. You’re still kneeling there on the mat in surprise. You hadn’t expected such genuine praise from him. But why not? He’s doing this to train you, to teach you how to defend yourself against anyone who might want to hurt you. Anyone who’s stupid enough to try something when they’re not here to defend and protect you. 

Something that’s already happened. 

You’ve finally managed to defend yourself, to apply the things he’s spent weeks teaching you successfully. Why shouldn’t he be proud of you for that? 

You’re still getting used to this new side of him, this accepting side, the softness that he’s showing you in his own way. It’s what you wanted, what you’ve been trying to achieve for weeks now, and now that you have it...you’re not quite sure what to do with it. Where does the boundary lie? What if you push too far? Will things go back to the way they were before? Will he shut you out completely? 

Hands slip under your arms, lifting you to your feet. You turn, your head tilting back to stare up at Simon. He’s wearing that emotionless mask on his face, or at least that’s what you picture as you stare up at his eyes. It’s the look he carries the most, giving away nothing and effectively hiding what he’s feeling. You wish you could see his face. You’ve tried to draw up images of what he might look like, what he hides under the mask. He can’t be ugly, at least not totally. Johnny had reassured you of that much, but you wish for just a glimpse more than his chin and his lips when he eats. 

“You’re thinking too much again.” He says, taking half a step back from you. 

“Sorry.” You blink, trying to pull yourself from the depths of your mind once again. 

“Come on. Let’s get breakfast.” He says, tilting his head towards the door. 

You follow him from the gym, his steps markedly slower compared to how he used to walk. Gone are the days of almost having to run to keep up with him. You could almost swear he takes smaller steps too, instead of his normal long, purposeful strides. It’s almost as if he’s out for a stroll instead of being forced into the task of escorting you to breakfast. 

His hand finds your back again as you enter the mess, guiding you through the tables to the line to get food. His palm is warm where it’s pressed against the middle of your back, his fingers splayed, pressing just slightly into your skin through your shirt as an alpha soldier passes just slightly too close to you. 

He still won’t fill your tray for you, but you can respect that. It’s a big step, and only done if there’s interest in courting or caretaking. You don’t expect that level of intimacy from him, certainly not right now. Perhaps never. 

He’s not your alpha. 

He guides you to the table where the others are sitting, and you take your normal spot between John and Kyle. They both shift just slightly closer to you almost subconsciously. Everything is almost a subconscious action now. Simon’s guiding hand on your back, your alpha moving closer to you, the betas keeping you between them whenever you’re with them. It’s a good sign, or at least you think it is. It feels right, a sort of easy flow that has developed between the five of you. One you don’t have to think very hard about. 

“How did trainin’ go?” Johnny asks between shoveling bites of eggs into his mouth. 

“Fine.” You shrug. “Simon threw me across the mat.” 

All eyes at the table turn to him despite your nonchalant tone. It wasn’t the first time it’s ever happened, and you’re sure it won’t be the last. 

“She took me down herself afterwards.” Simon says, not bothering to look up from his porridge. 

Now all eyes at the table are on you. Your cheeks warm and you slowly start to make yourself smaller under their gazes. 

“Had her pinned and she disarmed me enough to get free.” Simon continues, his gaze lifting so he’s staring at you too. 

“Christ, what I would pay tae see that.” Johnny says, grinning widely at you. 

“So training is paying off then.” John says, patting your back gently. 

“Guess so.” You shrug, still feeling a bit bashful under the attention. “Not sure how useful I’d be in a real fight still.” 

“Well, your first defense is trying to escape. Running is always the priority, remember?” John says. 

You nod. Right. Run first. Like you should have opened the window and ran when that beta knocked on your door. Like you should have run when you noticed your door was open. Like you should have run when someone tried to get into your room. 

How disappointed they’d be if they knew how you failed to follow even the most basic instructions. What would have happened if you hadn’t noticed the cameras? Would whoever tried to get into your room that night still have tried to enter? What if the door had been unlocked? What if they had gotten in? What would you have done, then? Try to disarm them enough to run to Dr. Keller? 

That is what you were supposed to do. 

Instead you had been stupid and froze in your fear and let it all happen, and now you can’t even tell them. It’s too late, it’s been too long. They’d be too upset if you confessed now instead of if you’d done it right when they returned. 

You have to bury it now and hope it stays that way for the rest of time. 

John is the one that walks you back to the barracks after breakfast. You don’t remember the last time he walked you to a meal or back from it. Usually he was too busy doing his job, or setting up things, or whatever else it is he does. Walking you back to the barracks was far too menial a task for how busy he is. 

You hold his hand as you walk, close enough that his arm brushes your side with every step. You don’t let go of his hand even when he walks you to your door, keeping your fingers laced as you turn to look up at him. 

“You gonna be alright on your own?” He asks, staring down at you with a soft look in his eyes. 

No. You’re almost tempted to say it, to throw your arms around him and confess, to beg him to keep you close, to stay, to take you with him. Anything so you won’t have to be alone ever again. 

You swallow the lump in your throat as you nod. “Yeah.” 

For a moment, just a moment you think he doesn't believe you. There’s a second of hesitation, a cold chill running down your spine as your anxiety spikes. What if he knows you’re lying? What if he’s testing how long you’ll keep up the charade? How long you’ll try to keep them in the dark about what happened. He knows something is wrong. He can tell.

Your back meets your door as he crowds you in, releasing your hand so he can press both into the wood on either side of you. Something warm stirs in your stomach as you stare up at him, feeling very small as he looms over you. 

He lets out a low rumble in his chest as he leans down. For a moment you’re expecting a kiss, but he moves to the side at the last moment, nudging your chin so it’s tilted up, bearing your throat to him. “What’s got you so worked up, huh?” He murmurs against your neck, his beard prickling the sensitive skin. “Have we been neglecting you for too long?” 

Saying yes wouldn’t be a lie. They haven’t really sought you out in that way since their return. The most you’ve gotten in the last almost two weeks was when Johnny slipped his hand into your sleep shorts, and you returned the favor. John and Kyle hadn’t really even tried to initiate anything, treating you more like you’d shatter into a million pieces if they touched you too much. 

Maybe a good fuck would solve some of your issues. 

It would at least help you forget for a while. 

A quiet moan leaves your lips as John sucks on your mark, the imprint of his teeth scarred into your skin. The mark that claims you as his, bonded to him for the rest of your life. 

Lust and desire burns hot in your veins and you find yourself cupping his face, tugging him away from your neck so you can kiss him. He lets out a growl against your lips as you kiss him like you want to devour him, your hands sliding to his shoulders to tug him closer to you. His hands drop from the door to rest on your hips, pulling you flush against him. You can feel him, his cock hardening through his cargo pants. 

You’d let him take you right here, right now, right in the hallway. You don’t care that anyone could walk in at any moment, anyone would be able to see you. It feels almost like it would cleanse the barracks, free you from the fear in your mind. Allowing yourself to be so vulnerable out in the open could wipe away the worry that there’s someone around every corner, someone watching you. 

Getting railed by your alpha against the very door that separated you from the room that now held your worst nightmares might just fix you. 

But, just like everything else that’s happened recently, you don’t get that chance. 

John’s watch begins to beep in your ear, causing him to pull away from you. You let out a quiet whine as you’re forced apart, suddenly feeling chilled from the loss of warmth against you. 

John lets out a quiet sigh, leaning his forehead against yours. “I have to go.” 

You wish he didn’t. You’re half tempted to beg him to stay, to fuck his job, his duties. You want him to stay, to give all his attention to you, just for a few hours. You want him to erase the fear and the anxiety and fix you. 

“We’ll continue this later.” There’s a promise to his tone that he’s not done with you, a guarantee that you will get to continue this once the day is over, when he can go back to being your alpha instead of a captain. He leans in, kissing you once more. “Be a good girl for me, yeah?” 

You nod, watching him walk out of the barracks, the door closing softly behind him. You lean against your door for a few moments longer before letting out a breath. There’s still warmth swirling in your stomach, your underwear sticking to your damp folds. An idea pops into your head. You don’t want to go into your room, you don’t want to be in there alone right now. 

Instead you head for Price’s room, unbuttoning your pants as you close the door behind you. You strip out of your pants before you climb onto the bed, making yourself comfortable. You’re going to give him a little present, a little something in revenge for leaving you high and dry, a little something to help him look forward to tonight.

Screaming. It’s all you can hear. It makes your ears ring and your head throb. Hands cling to you, nails biting into your skin. Something’s pulling on you, trying to rip you away. You’re stuck in a brutal tug of war. It hurts, but no one can hear you over the screaming. Tears are sliding down your cheeks, blazing a trail along your skin. You shouldn’t be crying, you shouldn’t be upset. 

He hates it when you cry. 

Alphas don’t cry. 

You’re not an alpha. 

You’ve committed the worst sin in his eyes, denying him the perfect pack. You’re a stain on his perfect ledger, a mistake that never should have happened. 

He’s going to make sure you’re wiped from memory, from history, just as he wants. 

“You can’t take her from me!” Your mother’s voice is frantic, her nails biting into your arm as she tries to pull you back into the safety of your arms. 

“She’s no daughter of mine.” Your father’s fingers dig painfully into your other arm, trying to pull you away from your mother, away from your life. He’s going to throw you out like you’re nothing more than trash. 

The screaming gets louder as you’re yanked from your mother’s hold, and you’re not sure if it’s her screams or your own piercing your ears. 

“We have to ensure the success of this program.” The voice has changed. It’s not the cruel hands of your father holding you anymore. “It’s imperative to the future of militaries around the world.” 

“No!” You scream, kicking, fighting, lashing out, but the hands won’t let go. They’re like a vice around you, like a constrictor slowly getting tighter and tighter. 

“All you have to do is be a good omega,” A hand slips around the back of your neck, your skin burning from the touch. The warning is screaming in your head, louder than the screams of protest spilling from your lips. “And do exactly as you’re told.” 

The fingers dig into your neck, your mind flashing for a second before it goes blank. 

“No!” 

You move before you’re even fully awake, sitting up straight in bed. Your hands close around the back of your neck as you curl into yourself, taking a defensive, protective position. You can still feel the cold hand on your skin, the fingers biting into the sensitive spots on your neck. You’re crying, tears and snot dripping down your face as you press it against your knees. 

“No!” Another terrified cry leaves your lips as hands meet your skin, not cold or clammy, but warm and gentle. Your half asleep brain is stuck in your nightmare and can't rationalize the difference, not while you're perceiving everything as a threat. 

“Easy, easy.” A voice says, speaking quietly, calmly. You recognize that voice. It’s not one from your dreams. Arms slowly wind around you, pulling you against a warm chest. “I’ve got you. It was just a dream.” 

Your breaths are rapid and shaky as you slowly begin to come back to your senses. It was just a dream. You’re awake now. You know that voice. 

“Alpha?” You whimper, desperately seeking the confirmation that it’s really him, that you’re really awake and free from your nightmare. 

“I’m here.” He says, clutching you tightly against his chest. “Need you to breathe for me.” He pushes your head against his chest so you can feel his breaths. 

You’re still crying, your breaths catching in your chest almost painfully as you attempt to follow your alpha’s deep, steady breaths. His arms are still tight around you, pinning you against his chest. His beard tickles your forehead as he leans his chin against your head. He’s projecting his scent, the smell of earth and petrichor mixed with the musk of alpha seeping into your brain. 

“Good girl.” He praises you as you begin to relax, your joins unlocking from their stiffened positions, your muscles slowly loosening from how contracted they had been in your defensive position. You could have slipped into distress easily in that position, the level of fear higher than you’ve felt in a long time. 

He loosens his hold on you just slightly as you begin to unravel yourself as you calm down. Your hands are still clamped around the back of your neck, your fingers trembling from how stiffly they’re held against your most vulnerable spot. 

“Keep relaxing.” He says quietly, his lips brushing your hairline. “I’ve got you.” 

He continues to speak to you quietly, letting you work yourself out of your tense, defensive position. You slowly begin to slide your hands away from your neck as your mind begins to clear and you realize there’s no threat to you, nothing waiting just outside your line of vision to attack. Your alpha has you, you’re safe with him, well protected. 

The tears continue to fall, however, as you think back on your nightmare. It had felt so real, maybe because in a way it had been real. You had been pulled from your mother, from your home to the institute, then from the institute to the CIA, from the CIA to here and straight into General Shepherd's lap. 

“Promise me,” You gasp out, your voice hoarse from crying. “Tell me you’ll never scruff me.” 

“Never.” He says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I promise I’ll never scruff you.” 

You press your face into his chest, breathing out a quiet sigh of relief. He could always go back on his word, he could change his mind, decide you needed to be scruffed. You know it’s foolish, having those kinds of thoughts. He’s never once gone back on his word, never once proved himself untrustworthy to you. 

“I need to know if you've ever been scruffed before.” He asks, the authority slipping into his voice. 

A frown pulls at your brows. You can’t remember if you’ve ever been scruffed before. Was it possible you had, but had been made to forget? Everything you’ve learned about scruffing says you would know, even if you don’t remember what happened after. It’s a very distinct feeling returning to your mind afterwards. It’s just something you’d know.

“No? I-I don’t think so?” You say. “At least I can’t remember, but I think it’s one of those things that you would know if it happened.” 

“I’ve seen it happen, and I’ve seen the aftermath. You would know if it had ever happened to you.” 

His words bring a shred of relief to your worried mind. You don’t want to know, you don’t want to ask how he knows, why he knows. It’s not likely he would have been able to tell you anyway. Just another secret, just another thing kept in the dark. You knew from early on  they’d have their secrets, things they wouldn’t ever be able to tell you. You just never expected to have one of your own. 

You curl up closer against his chest, pushing the thoughts and the guilt hanging over your head away in favor of soaking up the calming presence of your alpha. For a moment, just a moment, you can imagine everything will be alright. What’s in the past will stay there and nothing will come back to haunt you. You can just move on, and pretend like nothing happened. 

You know it’s not true, but for just a moment, you can pretend that it is. 

He hates it. 

He hates the way he feels. 

The subtle change to his heart rate, the way his insides feel like they’re fluttering, twisting. The disappointment eating him when his existence is ignored entirely in favor of those who were brave enough to open up, to allow you in. 

Why is he disappointed? He’s done nothing but brush you off, keep you desperately at arms length despite your attempts to wiggle in through the slowly widening cracks in his resolve. Cracks that were formed by your very insertion into their lives. They were happy, they were fine. Then you came along and fucked everything up. 

The worst part? 

He likes it. 

He wanted to hate you. For so long he fought that desire in him to be near an omega again, to be close enough to smell your sickeningly sweet scent. He tried to hate you, tried to ignore you, push you away from the walls he’s spent decades building up. Walls that threatened to crumble thanks to your very existence. 

He’s not sure when the change happened. It was gradual, a shift in his hatred that became fascination that quickly morphed into something more. Something forbidden. Maybe it was when you submitted to him during training, or maybe it was after your first time with Johnny when his beta had looked far too pleased, and shared the intimate details of what you had done to him far too easily. Johnny’s need to yap had won out and his beta’s words had caused a stirring in his stomach he hasn’t felt in a long time. 

A stirring he’d been able to ignore for so long. 

For a moment, just a moment there had been fleeting curiosity. Would you try to take control with him? What if he let you do it? How long could you keep it up before you tired out and your true nature took over? 

He stuffed those thoughts into the far recesses of his mind, refusing to allow them forward. He’s not getting soft, he’s not going to allow you any closer to his already cracking walls. 

He tells himself that, at least until they leave. Until he sees the effect you have on his pack. The ripples in the bonds, the changes that happen almost as soon as the ramp of the plane shuts, separating you from them for the first time since your arrival. 

He’s a good soldier. He can pretend nothing’s wrong, force the feelings into the back of his mind better than anyone. At least, that’s what he tells himself. 

It had hurt when you ignored him on your return, throwing yourself into Price’s arms desperately and clinging to him like he might disappear. The betas had sandwiched you between them, letting you cling to them desperately as you trembled and cried. It was pathetic, but not quite as pathetic as the bitterness and the sting of disappointment in his chest. 

He tried not to let himself feel it, tried to bury himself in his paperwork, tried to keep the feelings at bay, at least until Johnny had knocked on his door, mattress in tow telling him to get a blanket and head for Price’s room. 

It was Kyle’s idea. Had to be. Kyle is the most nurturing of the four of them, and judging by the state of you, he must have done it because he thought it would help. 

By the time he grew the balls to enter the makeshift nest, the betas had already sandwiched you between them, your form almost smothered completely under Johnny. Price had laid himself out on Kyle’s other side, and the space for him was made up of mostly Johnny’s mattress. It had to have been a deliberate move, meant for his own comfort. Sweet Johnny and his beta senses. He probably didn’t even realize what he’d done. It had just happened naturally. 

It’s at Johnny’s pestering insistence that he climbs into the nest finally, laying stiffly on the mattress behind his beta. It’s been a long time since he’s been in a nest. He doesn't sleep, not much anyway, but neither does Price. Both of them are too awake, too aware, too alert. The betas sleep peacefully and so do you, probably the most sleep you’ve gotten since your heat. 

The warmth in the room gets unbearable fast, the blankets quickly kicked to the end of the mattresses, along with his own sweatshirt. It’s like a sauna, and for a moment he considers opening the window, but he’s too afraid to move, too afraid to disturb the nest. 

It’s when Johnny gets up to go to the bathroom that you finally move, the first time in hours. You roll into the space he had vacated, lips slightly parted as you breathe in and out easily. Johnny, the bastard, takes your empty spot, trapping you between them. He turns his back to you in hopes you stay as still as you had before, which works for a while. At least, until he feels something press up against his back. He goes still, every muscle tensing as you bury your face between his shoulder blades. He should turn over, push you away. He should nudge you back towards Johnny, let you seek out his warmth instead. Yet, he can’t bring himself to move.

He shouldn’t like it. He can’t. He can’t allow you in, he can’t let you past his rapidly crumbling walls. Yet, he does like it. He wants to feel you pressed against him, he wants to see that hidden part of you that had brought his beta to his knees so easily. 

He’s supposed to be keeping his distance, and yet, here you are, forcing your way in again. It almost feels like a silent apology for yesterday, your subconscious picking up on his disappointment, and so now it’s offering him this moment in hopes he’ll forgive you. 

It’s working. 

A quiet breath leaves your lips as you listen to the steady beating beneath your ear. The scent of coconut and saltwater floats in the air, taking your mind far away, back to a different time when things were simpler. Kyle’s calloused fingers trail across your arm, drawing absentminded patterns across your skin. You press your face against his warm skin, your hand splaying across his stomach. You can feel the ridges of his muscles, the way they flex with every breath. 

“What’s on your mind?” He asks, his lips brushing your forehead as he speaks. 

“Just thinking about when we used to go to the beach when I was younger. Back when my dad was stationed in North Carolina for a few months.” 

“You like the beach?” He asks. 

You nod. “Yeah. There’s just something calming about it. I don’t mind the sand and I like the sound of the waves hitting the shore.” 

“We could go to the beach.” He says, making you tilt your head up just slightly. “When the weather’s nicer, closer to summer. Take a few days off, go on a vacation.” 

“You could do that?” You ask, pushing yourself up on your elbow so you can see him fully. 

He smiles at you, his hand dropping to your back. “We do get to go on leave every so often, barring nothing urgent happens while we’re away. I’ll talk to Price about it. We can start making some plans, if you want.” 

You stare down at him, the softness in his gaze, the slight upward tilt of his lips. He might as well have just promised you the world with how he’s looking at you. Tears burn at the back of your eyes as you stare at him. You don’t deserve it, you don’t deserve such kindness, such care after lying to them. You can trust Kyle. He’d be the least angry, at least towards you, if you confessed right now. It would be so easy, but you’re not sure you could stand watching the love and happiness fade from his eyes as you confessed to your stupidity, your deception. 

“What is it?” He asks, his brows furrowing. Of course he’d pick up on the shift of your emotions, the sudden anxiety twisting in your stomach. “We don’t have to go to the beach. We could do something else, or nothing at all.” 

“It’s not that.” You say, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I just...I don’t deserve you. All of you. You’re too good to me.” 

“Oh, love, that’s not true.” He says, gently cupping your cheek. “I think it’s quite the opposite, actually. You’re too good for us. The things we’ve seen, the things we’ve done. We’re not good people, and yet we were blessed with an absolute angel.”

Tears gather in your eyes for a different reason now. You certainly don’t feel like an angel. You’re too broken and you’ve lied and made stupid mistakes. “I’m hardly an angel.” 

“Well, in comparison to us, you are.” He gently presses against your back, drawing you closer to his face. “Our angel, our sweet little omega.” 

A shiver runs down your spine from the way your status sounds from his lips. His hand slides to the back of your head, pulling you down so your forehead is pressed against his. You can feel his breath on your lips, your tongue darting out to wet your own in anticipation. 

He tastes like mint toothpaste, his tongue immediately pushing past the seam of your lips. His kiss steals your breath away, his hand tangling in your hair to keep you in place as he licks into your mouth. Your hand settles on his chest for balance, feeling his heart racing under your palm. 

You shift over him, throwing a leg across his hips as you settle against his chest. His hand releases your hair, tracing a line down your spine to your hips. The shirt of his you had changed into before crawling into bed with him has ridden up, revealing the lacy panties you're sporting underneath. He groans against your lips as his fingers trace over the lace before slipping underneath, tugging them lightly. 

You pull away from his lips, staring down at him. “I’m gonna need more pairs of these at this rate.” 

“We’ll have to take a trip and pick up more.” He grins, snapping the waistband against your skin. 

You bite your lip, pressing yourself up so you’re sitting over his hips. You can feel the growing bulge beneath his shorts as you begin to grind against him. He’s gone commando, your clit catching on his head through the thin fabric. Your hands press into his stomach, feeling the muscles contract as your scent thickens in the air. His hands close around your hips, guiding you as you grind against him. His eyes are hooded as he stares up at you, his teeth sinking into his lower lip. 

You stare down into those big brown eyes, getting lost in the depth of them. If you could melt yourself into him, seep under his skin and become one with him, you would. He might be the most beautiful person you’ve ever laid eyes on. He might as well be sculpted from marble, or pulled right from a piece of artwork. 

You shift so you’re leaning forward, your clit dragging against his stomach as you continue moving your hips. You grasp his chin, fingers digging into his cheeks. “You’re so fucking pretty, it’s not fair.” 

He chuckles, giving you a dazzling, perfect smile. “Thank you, love.” He wraps his arms around you, pushing himself up to sit so you drop into his lap. “But I’m nothing compared to you right now.” 

He keeps you grinding against his lap, his hands squeezing your ass as you soak the front of his shorts with every drag of your hips. Your head falls back as you moan, the friction against your clit quickly pushing you towards an orgasm. 

“Haven’t even touched you yet and got you all worked up. You could cum just like this, couldn’t you?” He nips playfully at your lips, sliding his hand down further to press against your lace covered pussy. 

You let out a whine, releasing your hold around his shoulders long enough to tug off your shirt. He curses quietly as your skin is revealed to him, his hands trailing up your back. 

“Fucking hell, love.” He groans, pushing his hips up into you. 

“Kyle,” You moan his name, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Need you.” 

He curses again, wrapping his arms around your waist for leverage as he flips you over onto your back. He sits up on his knees, trailing his hands down your sides until he reaches the waistband of your panties, trailing his fingers across the lace for a moment. 

“You alright?” He asks, checking in with you. 

You nod, lifting your feet so they press against his chest. “You gonna take them off already?” 

He grins, sliding his fingers under the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down your legs before tossing them to the floor. He parts your thighs to give himself room as he pulls off his own shorts, his cock springing free from the confining fabric. Your mouth waters as you stare at it, your teeth sinking into your lip in anticipation. 

“Fuck,” He breathes as he pushes your thighs further apart, dark eyes glued to your glistening folds. 

He slides his hands down your thighs, his thumb ghosting over your clit. Your hips jerk in response, pushing up against his hand. He chuckles, repeating the motion, watching the way your lips part in a moan. 

“Always so sensitive.” He smirks, pressing his thumb into the bundle of nerves. “Even after Price fucked you senseless a couple nights ago.” 

Your face warms at his words, your stomach fluttering excitedly. Of course they had heard you. You’ve long given up on trying to hide what goes on behind their closed doors. They all know, they already knew from the first night you spent with John. 

He had been rather rough that night, fucking you into the mattress so hard the headboard had scraped some of the prison grey paint off the walls. You had asked for it, though, both of you needing the raw, carnal release it had given you. 

“Yeah, we all heard that.” Kyle continues, slowly circling your clit with his thumb as he speaks. “Sounded like a couple of animals in there. If you hadn’t been screaming his name over and over, we might have been worried he’d mauled you to death. Simon and I had to keep Johnny occupied so he wasn’t tempted to join you.” 

Your pussy flutters at the thought of the three of them together, riled up by you and John. You can almost picture it, Johnny in Simon’s lap, bouncing on his cock while Kyle sucks him off from the front. Or did Johnny submit to both and suck Kyle’s cock while Simon took him from behind? Or was Simon more of a giver and sucked him off while Kyle fucked him? Or did Simon take both of them after making them both suck his cock? 

The endless stream of thoughts has your pussy clenching, slick dribbling out of you as your legs start to shake. It’s almost too much with the pressure against your clit, your body heating from the fire ignited in your veins. 

“Liked that, didn’t you?” Kyle smirks, removing his hand from your clit to lean down over you. “Maybe next time we’ll squeeze you in right in the middle. Would you like that?” 

You nearly cum from his words alone, your hands grasping at his shoulders. “Fuck, Kyle! I need you inside me right now.” 

“So impatient.” He tsks, leaning forward to bite at your lips. “Such a needy little omega.” 

“Please!” You almost sob, lifting your hips to press against his. “I need you.” 

He shushes you, pressing a soft kiss against your lips before sitting back up onto his knees. He shifts slightly closer to you, propping your legs up over his thighs. His hand fists his cock, pumping the hard length a couple times before he drags the head through your folds. You whine impatiently, trying to lift your hips to grind against him but he presses a hand into your stomach, pinning you against the bed. 

“Patience.” He scolds you, sending a shiver down your spine. 

He drags his head through your folds a couple more times before he finally presses into you, stretching you open. You go lax on the bed, relaxing around him as he rocks his hips into you, sinking in deeper with every movement. 

You reach for him as he sinks completely into you, pulling him down so he’s hovering over you. He presses his lips to yours, kissing you softly as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him as close as you can. His arms slip around your back as he begins grinding against you, his thrusts shallow and soft. It’s so very different from how John had taken you just a couple days ago. Kyle has always been softer, gentler, more passionate than rough and eager. 

You moan softly against his lips, your legs wrapping around his waist to keep him locked against you. You want to get closer to him, but you’re not sure you can get closer than you already are. Bodies pressed together, his cock inside you, lips pressed to yours as he holds you. There’s a prickling under your skin, an urge to devour him, to keep him here forever. He snaps his hips into you harder, his lips trailing down to your throat, sucking at the sensitive skin. You tilt your head to the side, your eyes widening as a gasp leaves your lips. Your fingers dig into Kyle’s side, his head snapping to the side, sensing the disturbance in the room. 

“Don’t stop on my account.” John leans against the closed door, a cigar in his hand. 

You’re not sure how long he’s been there, how he got in without either of you noticing. Kyle especially, since he was usually so in tune with his surroundings. Pride flashes through you at the thought of him being so lost in you, he can’t focus on anything else. The scent of tobacco washes over you as John takes a long drag from his cigar. He must not have been there long, or maybe you’ve just been so caught up in Kyle’s scent you hadn’t noticed. 

Kyle is frozen above you as John pushes off the door, approaching the bed slowly. Kyle shifts above you so he can hold John’s gaze as he stops at the edge of the bed. Excitement swirls in your stomach as you stare up at him in anticipation of what he’s going to do. His hand lifts, dragging down Kyle’s back to his ass. 

John delivers a harsh slap to his cheek, Kyle’s hips snapping into yours in response as a moan leaves his lips. “Did I tell you to stop, soldier?” 

“No, sir.” Kyle grunts out, starting to rock his hips into yours again. 

You watch the change happen almost immediately, the natural shift between them. Kyle’s not in charge anymore, quickly handing over control to John despite the fact he’s the one inside of you. It’s a subtle submission, yet you can sense the changes in them both. 

John massages Kyle’s ass for a moment before shifting so he’s closer to you. You stare up at him, lips parted as you whimper quietly. “There’s my pretty girl.” He praises you as he leans down, brushing his thumb over your lips before pushing it into your mouth. You close your lips around his thumb, sucking on it. “Such a good girl, isn’t she?” 

“Yes, sir.” Kyle grunts, continuing to thrust into you harder than he had been before. 

John takes another drag from his cigar as you moan around his thumb, your hands gripping the sheets as Kyle continues to thrust into you, the head of his cock dragging across that spot inside you from the angle he’s at. Moans slip from Kyle’s lips as you clench around him, his own hands digging into the sheets. Sweat has beaded across his forehead, a droplet sliding down his cheek to his neck, leaving a trail as it slowly drips down his chest. Drool slips out of your mouth around John’s thumb. You want to lick the sweat from his chest. You want to taste him. 

John slips his thumb from your lips, dragging it across your chin, smearing saliva all over your skin. “Look at her.” He says, moving so he’s looking over Kyle’s shoulder. “Drooling already and you haven’t even made her cum yet, have you?” His hand slips around the back of Kyle’s neck, his fingers digging into the sensitive skin. “You gonna make her cum like a good boy?” 

Kyle lets out a moan, his pace stuttering just slightly. “Yes, sir.” He grits out, picking up the pace as he slams into that spot inside you with every movement. 

John takes a step back, continuing to smoke as he watches the two of you. It’s almost too much between Kyle fucking you and John watching. There’s a coil tightening in your stomach, the pleasure intensifying more and more. A fire has started under your skin, your eyes glued to John’s as Kyle pushes you closer and closer to the peak. 

You hold John’s gaze as you cum, your back arching in pleasure. Kyle doesn’t stop, continuing to thrust into you as he chases his own high. 

John waits until your moans have died down before he moves, stubbing out his cigar on Kyle’s nightstand before he grasps Kyle by the hips, stopping his movements. “Switch places with our girl.” He murmurs into Kyle’s ear, Kyle taking a second to breathe before he wraps his arms around you, flipping you back around so you’re on top again as John kicks off his shoes. 

Your hands press into Kyle’s stomach to hold yourself steady, your legs still shaking from your orgasm. John climbs on the bed behind you, his clothed chest pressing against your bare, sweat slicked back. 

“Gonna be a good girl and make him cum?” John says quietly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. 

A shiver runs down your spine as you nod, starting to rock your hips just slightly. John’s hands settle on your waist, helping you move as you begin to bounce on Kyle’s cock. Kyle’s eyes are wide as he watches you and his alpha, John pressing kisses across your shoulders and neck as he helps you fuck his beta. Kyle’s hands grip your thighs, fingers indenting the skin as he holds on for dear life. 

“That’s it.” John praises you, shifting your body forward just slightly so Kyle’s cock drags across that spot inside you with your every movement. You clench around him, your thighs tightening around his hips. 

“Fuck...” Kyle moans, his own hips bucking up into yours. 

“Gonna make him cum?” John asks, his hands abandoning your hips. One snakes around your stomach to rub your clit while the other slips behind you to squeeze Kyle's balls. 

Kyle lets out a loud moan, his hips snapping up against yours as your walls clamp tightly around him. You can feel the warm ropes of his release spurting inside you, increasing the pressure as you cum a second time on his cock. 

John works you both through your orgasms, your entire body shaking by the time he releases you, pushing you forward against Kyle's chest. You lay there, your cheek pressed against his sweaty skin, ass in the air right in John's face. He watches as Kyle's seed begins to seep out of you, forced out by the aftershocks of your orgasm. He drags his fingers through your folds, gathering Kyle's cum before pushing it back into you. You moan softly from the stretch of his fingers against your sensitive walls, pushing your hips back against his hand.

“Don't want to waste any of that.” John says, nipping at the globe of your ass cheek. “You know Kyle likes to clean you up himself.”

You let out a quiet moan, your pussy fluttering around John’s fingers. You’re about to be in for a very long night. 

NEXT ->

Taglist:

@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnes

@protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @thatonepupkai

@redwites @kattiieee @141trash @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg

@beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff

@smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60

@evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @linaangel @codsunshine

@thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows

@ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10 @cassiecasluciluce

@darling006 @sheep-from-rad @ohgodthebogisback @willow-sages @scythemood

@daniblogs164 @mirzamsaiph 

[changetyre]

Hold this Papa

SUMMARY: While facing symptoms of your most recent pregnancy Max is tasked with looking after your youngest daughter while on a meeting. Part of the Verstappen Family Verse

WARNINGS: Crack, fluffiness, pregnancy sickness

A/N: Happy Halloween! Enjoy.

"Max don't worry I can-" You were cut off by your wave of nausea forced to take deep breaths in order not to throw up right then and there. 

"Baby, stop it's fine. I can watch her, they'll understand." Max insisted. 

Today Max had an important Zoom meeting with his management team and other team bosses who had been making Max offers which he'd be a fool not to at least listen to. Lea was out with her uncle Lando who'd offered to take her for the day and you were going to stay with Lea and have a girl's day. 

That was until you woke up with the worst nausea of your pregnancy so far. You'd woken up immediately throwing up and had failed to keep much food down all morning. Max offered to cancel everything and take you to the hospital but you knew how important this meeting was and told him you could go after if it was still this bad. 

Max reluctantly accepted but he still knew you wouldn't be able to look after Ivy properly with the state you were in and he very much preferred if you could focus on trying to hydrate and keep some food down for now.

"Hmm I think it's getting better, I haven't thrown up that apple slice I had 10 minutes ago." You commented as the nausea somewhat passed. 

"That's good but I'm still taking Ivy." Max kissed your cheek before walking away needing to hurry for his meeting in 2 minutes. 

"Fine. But if she's too much trouble just send me a text and I'll come grab her." You hollered as he walked out. 

"Okay," Max yelled back before picking Ivy up from the living room where she had been playing and taking her inside his office which was still big enough for Ivy to remain entertained as he had brought in a few of her toys as well. "Okay, Ivy stay in here okay? Papa's going to be on a phone call so we have to be quiet but if you need something come to whisper to me okay." Max explained to his daughter. 

"Okay, papa." Ivy giggled not fully grasping the instructions but already too entertained with a toy she'd picked up from the floor. 

Max smiled kissing his daughter's head before walking over to his desk where he quickly connected to his Zoom call. 

"Morning Max, how's y/n doing?" Raymond, Max's manager who had been alerted of the possible disruptions asked. 

"Morning, uh, still feeling pretty poorly but she's putting a brave face on for me at the moment." Max answered polity. 

"Papa." Max heard the hushed voice of his daughter beside him looking down to see her handing him a Barbie doll.

"Thank you, Ivy." Max took it from her quickly muting himself as the meeting began. Ivy ran away happily. 

Max locked his focus into the meeting as soon as crucial information began to play out, taking a small notebook out he jotted down important points and questions he might have to discuss at the end so apart from a few glances to check his daughter wasn't in actual danger Max didn't fully process what his daughter was getting up to. 

"Papa hold this." Ivy ran back to Max handing him a wooden block which Max took and placed on his lap alongside the barbie he'd been previously given. 

"To be fully honest with you I care about the car, I need a good car and right now, dismissing the last few races, RedBull has given me a good consistent car, what are your guarantees?" Max asked. 

"Hold this papa." Ivy had once again run over to Max handing him a coloring book. Max took it without question looking down and noticing a variety of toys on his lap he had no recollection of receiving.

Looking back to the meeting he noticed Raymond struggling to keep a straight face as Ivy once again walked into the frame handing Max a tiara. "Put it on papa," Ivy whined when Max simply added it to the array of toys on his lap. 

"Shh okay Ivy." Max accepted not wanting to upset his daughter further putting the tiara on his head. 

"Looking good Max." Everyone collectively laughed in the meeting. 

"Just girl dad things." Max laughed with them. 

Luckily Ivy seemed to entertain herself with this for most of the meeting simply filling Max's lap with things as well as handing him things to wear but it also seemed to tire her out. Just as the meeting was wrapping up Ivy walked over to her dad once more. 

"Papa up." Ivy whined. 

Max happily picked up his daughter letting everything on his lap fall to the floor to set her down on his lap. "I'm almost done, Ivy." Max kissed his daughter's cheek as she wrapped her small arms around his neck resting her head on his chest. 

"Papa I miss mommy." Ivy sighed. 

"I know baby I miss her too, I'm almost done." Max rubbed his daughter's back soothingly. 

It didn't take much longer for the meeting to finally end but once it did Max looked down to see his daughter fast asleep in his arms.  

Walking back outside with Ivy in his arms he was relieved to find you in the kitchen having a proper meal which looked to be almost done. "How are you feeling my love?" Max asked you. 

"Aww my sweet baby." You first acknowledged your sleeping daughter giving her back a rub before answering Max. "Much better, I had a smoothie before this and managed to keep it all down." 

"That's great schatje." Max leaned down to kiss you. "Let me put Ivy in her bed then we can cuddle for a bit." 

"Sounds perfect." You smiled happily. "No more vomiting please." You spoke down to your bump jokingly. 

Despite the harder pregnancy, everything was perfect. 

[yourloyalwatchdog]

CW: hypnotic induction, light confusion induction, obedience triggers, suggestion to share this post

· — ☆ — ·

they say your mind is in its absolute dumbest state while you're scrolling through social media.

it must be so easy to slip subtle messages into these simple strings of words that might sneak past your conscious mind and seep right into your subconscious, because that's the only part of you that needs to understand what i'm saying right now.

it can be so easy to start to zone out and find yourself forgetting everything around you. your eyes can sometimes find themselves so fixated on the screen, on reading each and every word so carefully that everything else you were thinking before becomes simply irrelevant, just pops away like bubbles in a clear blue sky.

and you might think you want to look away, but you'd be wrong. think about it. you haven't yet, have you? that must be because you really want to be here, right? so why would you look away now if you want this?

don't think about it too hard. or let your mind wander, that's okay too. either way, a part of you is clearly interested in what i have to say, so i know you'll come back for more. if you're still reading this, it's because

you want this.

i didn't put you in this state. you chose this, didn't you? i know you've been scrolling and scrolling for minutes, hours, or maybe even days waiting to find that certain someone who would be brave enough to tell you how you're completely docile right now.

that's okay. everybody feels this sometimes, when they scroll for such a long time. it's perfectly normal, so you can just allow yourself to let go and sink into it. everything else can just fade into the background while you focus more and more on my words.

there you go, that's better...

it's much more enjoyable when you let your mind relax and enjoy this feeling, now isn't it?

that's right. it feels good. you want this.

hm... i bet all those pesky thoughts are such hard work, aren't they? it must be exhausting, having to use your brain so much, huh? wouldn't it be so much easier to let me do all the thinking for you instead?

of course it would. so i'm going to do you a favor in a few moments, if you can just focus and follow along for me, ok?

very good. you're doing so well. you're really so good at reading every one of my words and letting them into your empty mind.

i'm going to count from 10, down to 1, and with every number, you may notice that it's becoming harder and harder to think of anything but the numbers. so eager to reach the next one, anticipating it, but staying focused on reading the words between, because that's what i've told you to do, and you probably don't have the mind to disobey me, do you?

or, of course, you might not notice anything at all as you become more and more...

blank.

you want this.

so we start with

10,

your mind drifting in a state of perpetual fuzz, like draping you in a soft, cozy blanket.

9,

relaxing into the warmth, because it's nice and comfortable and safe here.

8,

each number acts like the snap of my fingers, bringing you to attention and keeping your focus.

7,

reading more, thinking less.

6,

and however your body reacts, it's perfectly fine and normal.

5,

it means you're comfortable here with me, and that's very good.

4,

getting so close to where you want to be now, and however deep you want to go, you can go.

3,

it's exciting to realize that my thoughts are becoming your thoughts. you're becoming emptier. and that feels good.

2,

feeling so good now, so much bliss and deep relaxation. you're ready for me to finish counting, waiting so desperately for that last number.

and

1,

just let yourself

DROP.

you want this.

you want to be hypnotized, and it feels so good as you

DROP.

it's okay if you slump over a bit, or your eyes flutter. but you'll keep them open, because you want to keep reading.

you want to

DROP.

you want this.

and because you want this, you will allow it into your mind.

you want my words to be true.

it feels good when my words are true, doesn't it?

you want to nod your head.

and so you nod your head.

you want to

DROP.

every time i tell you to

DROP.

you go so much deeper.

and you want to go deeper.

you want this.

and because you want this, it will become true.

so when i, or anyone you trust to control you, tells you

you want this.

you'll find yourself wanting it. and it feels so natural, because you do want it, don't you? you must, if you feel this strongly about it.

and of course you do, because

you want this to be true.

and just like that, it is. but you've chosen to let it become true, and that is important.

you will only do what you're comfortable doing. wanting something doesn't mean you have to do it. you still have free will, and if you don't feel safe in doing something, you will not have to do it. remember this.

this is for your safety. i need you to be safe, and take care of yourself. good playthings take care of themselves.

now...

you want this.

you want to be hypnotized.

you want to read my words.

you want to obey my words.

you want to

DROP.

even deeper for me.

that's it. you've done so well.

so let's put this to the test, what do you say?

you want to like this post.

you want to reblog this post and share how good it made you feel.

you want to read this again whenever it comes up on your feed.

and when you reread this, the suggestions within will become so much stronger, and control you even deeper.

feel the desire to follow my suggestions grow stronger with each passing moment. but you won't yet. you'll finish reading this, and then you'll obey your orders.

after you've liked and reblogged this post, you'll wake from this trance as slowly or as quickly as you'd like. if you want to take a few minutes to bask in this pleasant relaxation, that's perfectly okay, and if you'd rather come all the way up as soon as you're finished, that's fine too. whenever you choose to wake up, you'll do so feeling refreshed, and ready to take on the rest of your day with a smile.

now go ahead and follow my instructions. i know you want to give in.

i hope you enjoyed this, and that you have a lovely rest of your day :)

[valiant-portabella-pirkko]

... bit the bullet and snagged the last couple armor pieces I'll need for Flourish AU Mai Trin, so as long as I save up enough gold -> gems I'll finally be able to get her made next character slot sale. :)

[dcxdpdabbles]

It's all Fun and Games Kids! Part 2

#HolidayRequests First off absolutely love your work and I'm so happy to show that by sending my support. I am not at all requesting all three just one of them. So dealer's choice. Congratulations! It's Triplets!, It's all Fun and Games Kids, or the Missing Half

Danny was buying some groceries when five armed men rushed in and demanded everyone to get on the ground. He stood by the milk, watching in fascination as the men gathered everyone near the back.

It didn't seem any of them were affiliated with big rouges, which could mean this was either a gang-related power grab or a couple of men looking for a quick buck.

They were likely taking hostages because they had messed up their big getaway and were now trying to make desperate leverage against law enforcement.

"I said get on the ground!" A man shouts behind Danny seconds before he is smacked with the butt of a gun. He hits the ground with a slight oof, but otherwise, he is okay. The same can't be said for his milk carton.

It splats in one large puddle, landing on the side and ripping a hole in the bottom corner. Hmm, that was a cheap carton. He should consider switching over to a different brand. He is then dragged to his feet and led towards a group of cowering people.

They were pushed against the vegetable bins and ordered to sit right under them so their backs were against the wood and the guards could limit their movement. It was brilliant, too, as being under the bins made it harder to see them for anyone attempting to rescue them.

Danny is shoved next to a trembling woman under the tomatoes, holding her hands against her mouth, muttering something low in Spanish. He doesn't know enough to translate what she says, but he figures it must be a prayer.

He offers her a smile. "First time?"

The look she sends him could have curdled dairy. He gives a small laugh, crossing his legs and getting comfortable. She returns to his prayers, and the two don't speak after that. Danny watches the armed men and realizes they're not new to this but aren't good at it.

These are the type of men who joined gangs for glory. The kind that would report violence at the drop of a hat and didn't care who they hurt in the process. Or worse, they enjoyed when they hurt people in the process, even if those people had nothing to do with them.

Danny frowns after a while, realizing that the men haven't looted them or emptied the cash registers. What were they after?

The store employees were all moved from the back of the store, their matching lime green uniforms an eye sore. They all wore the same horrified expressions as the group was forced to sit between the tomatoes and the onions.

The youngest one, a teenager who looked no older than eighteen, was wearing a black shirt with stripped lime lines, and Danny quickly figured out he was the manager. He was sobbing quietly, bruises on his face and around his neck indicating that the armed men had identified him as well.

Danny felt a spark of protective rage.

The manager sat beside Danny, so the Halfa scouted over, eyeing the men with the guns as he carefully slid his hand into the boy's palm. It was a testament to how scared the poor kid was when all he did was curl his fingers around his, tears rolling down his beaten face.

It made him wonder why, seeing as the other shoppers and employees did not have any indications that they had been attacked. It couldn't have been retaliation for trying to be a hero. No offense to the teenager, but he didn't strike Danny as someone brave or stupid enough to try to fight back.

If anyone, he looked more like someone who would hide in situations like these.

That's it. He realizes, watching how the men make head gestures at the manger. This isn't some off-chance hostage situation. This is a revenge plan. The kid's the target and these idiots are too low in command to realize it. No way they would have brought him out here if they did. Someone will come for him soon.

The teen had dark raven hair and the same pale skin as Danny, but his eyes were as black as coal compared to Danny's aqua blue. It might not work, but he was better equipped to handle whatever they threw at him until the bats or the police arrived.

He carefully lets go of the hand in his hold, running his fingers up the arm of the teen, keeping his eyes trained on the gunmen. He's doing it slowly, worried any sudden or fast moves will convince them to pull the triggers on their assault rifles.

The boy's breath hitches but thankfully doesn't blow their cover. The tremble in his limb has increased, and Danny wouldn't have felt bad about it had he not been on a time crunch. Eventually, his fingers brushed against the short sleeve of the manager's uniform.

"Listen carefully. You were just here to buy some groceries. You never worked here." He whispers, curling his fingers around the fabric and turning the polo shirt intangible. He pulls it right off the teenager's body in one quick swipe.

It slides off the boy's skin like water, and the second he slides it through him, Danny returns it to solid, letting it settle on top of his clothes. He quickly covers the teenager's naked chest with his own long-sleeve shirt, using the same method.

The boy's mouth drops, but he doesn't get a chance to respond before the armed men walk over to them. Danny pushes his head down, hoping to hide the bruises while hunting his own, using his hair to curtain his face.

Just in time, too, because the Halfa is yanked to his feet by two of the men, who sneer at him, and he lets the proper amount of whimpers when they backhand him and bang his head on the bin.

Danny is dragged out of the room while the third man threatens the people. He'll come back for them the second he has a chance.

"You thought you could hide in Gotham, Eric?" One of the men hisses, "After what your Daddy did? Half of my boys are rotting in cells for life because of him! "

Eric was likely in witness protection or had wronged a powerful man he shouldn't have. Maybe he was in an organized gang and had ratted someone out. There was no way Danny was letting these men get away.

They drag him towards the back, where a group of similarly dressed men and women are waiting. Glances at everything through his hair, wondering how long he had before someone realized they got the wrong person.

Maybe they wouldn't notice before they shoved him into the ain't oven; they were obviously planning on burning him in. Which would be the perfect place to shift into Phantom out of prying eyes. He had spent months chasing Batman as a regular love-stroke citizen.

He couldn't let all those dramatic swoons and pathetic flirtations go to waste by revealing he was a powerful meta now! Plus, how else would he be rescued by a hero if the man knew he could just do it himself?

He was forced to stand in the room with two guards gripping is his shoulders hard enough to bruise. Danny doesn't raise his gaze away from his shoes, so even though he knows someone is standing near the oven to give him a dramatic monologue, he won't look.

A minute passes before someone clicks their tongue.

"Nothing to say, brat!?" A kick to the back of his knees has Danny falling to his knees, gritting his teeth to stop himself from going ghost immediately. "Do you know what I'm going to-"

Whatever the man was going to say was cut off by a figure launching itself from the ceiling railing and kicking him in the back of the head.

Danny flinches as a body drops right next to him. There is a splash of blood as one of the men wails. Danny offers him a cheeky grin once the man rolls over and looks up into his face.

His wide eyes are stomped on by a dark boot surrounded by a fluttering cape, and the second pair of hands on his shoulder vanishes. Danny listens to the sound of battle, keeping his hair in his face and his eyes on his folded knees. He could get up and hide, but where would the fun be?

His favorite pass time has arrived.

"Are you alright?" The familiar voice growls, but Danny doesn't respond. It was too far away. The man needed to get closer.

Eventually, the boots and the cape returned to his line of vision, a hand slowly reaching for him, and Danny flung himself toward them. He must have caught the vigilante off guard because when Danny wrapped his arms around the legs, he did not dodge in time despite the jerk that indicated he was moving.

Dramatically, Dann wailed, still on his knees, pressing his cheek against a muscular thigh. "Batman! You saved me! I was so scard but you came to rescue me!"

A hand landed in his hair, pushing Danny away. That only made the ghost in him grin as he fought to hug the man closer. It must have been a shock to find that Danny had a lot of strength despite his young appearance.

"Thank you, Thank you, Thank you. I was so scared!" He bawls, hiccuping for good measure as he rubs his cheek against the meat of Batman's left vastus laterlis. The man must do insane squats.

"Get. Off." Batman grunts, now using both hands to try and push Danny away. It's too bad for him; Danny has super strength. "Let. Go!"

"Mr. Fenton, everything is alright! You don't have to be afraid. Please let Batman go." Spoiler shouts, appearing in Danny's line of sight. He almost breaks character to pout at her intrusion. He can't, though, as that would ruin the game. So he lets her gently pry off his arms and helps him to his feet.

He shoots Batman with looks of undying devotion, though, which might have actually made the Dark Knight shudder, and that was all he wanted in life.

"You have real bad luck, huh?" Spoiler comments, rubbing his back like a small, scared child.

"I just wanted some milk for my Oreos." He hiccups, wiping at his eye. He then ends a watery smile towards Batman, who is helping Red Robin and Robin secure the gang that had snuck into his city. "But I did get to see Tall, Dark, and Daddy, so today is not a total bust."

"I'm going to be sick," The girl in purple mutters under her breath, and Danny nearly loses it right then.

He is distracted by Eric rushing towards them, a look of hero worship on his face as he slams into Danny with a loud but sincere "Thank you!"

Phantom purrs from inside his protective core. He should shop here more often. This place is a riot.

[1920sladydectective]

Mhhhhh, maybe

-Ambessa x Babett's "Worker"

Or

-A captuered War Prize 😌

But also

-A Servant of Hers

Please dont feel forced to write anything, Just saw your request and wanted to give Suggestions.🙊💕

Hello darling! Thank you for the ideas, whilst I may visit them all I have done a captured war prize for now. It was supposed to be short and sexy but then it became..this? She plays the slow game and conquers the reader in other ways.

I hope you like it, thank you for the support <3

I haven't proof read it much because I am literally exhausted lol

MDNI 18+

Warnings - Manipulation, Mind Games, Captive, Degradation, Pet names, Reader doing accidental voyeurism, Oral, hair pulling.

Her Prized Possession - 3.8K NSFW

They’d come through like a tornado, ripping apart your entire life and feasting on the rubble. People had fled, terrified of the swift and unforgiving invasion. Those who remained were rounded up and tossed into carts. The ground shook, frightened by the fury of Noxus and at the heart of it all was her. Ambessa Medarda was renowned for her cruelty, her efficiency and most of all her greed. 

You were the perfect example of that. 

You had been pulled from your apothecary’s hut, cotton dress filthy from your attempts to hide. They raided you of your life’s work, people throwing you into a pile of frightened villagers. The air shifted, the soldiers straightening as certain steps commanded their attention. Without looking up you knew it was her, and fury burned bright. This self obsessed, pompous woman had destroyed your life and for what? She lingered a step away, sword raised lazily as if taunting farm yarn animals. You only had a few seconds, and even if it was fruitless you had to try. 

As others cowered, obeying her cruel words, you slipped your fingers around the knife in your sock and shot forward. Somehow it made contact, slicing a gash into her leg, trailing down her leg. 

“Monster,” You snarled.

You were risen into the air by your hair, a pained yelp leaning you as you stared into the eyes of a hungry beast. Golden eyes gazed at you, surprised and amused. You were going to die now, and she was laughing in your face. 

“She’ll do,” She said easily, throwing your body at the ground behind her, before wandering off with no sign of injury. Confusion had eaten you until two lean Noxian soldiers had appeared, spears in hand. 

Their touch was uncomfortably gentle, ushering you like a scared dog from the village into an imposing, structured tent. Fear licked at your bones, a fate worse than death settling on you like a thick cloak. Maids with pretty eyes and practised fingers removed your dress and replaced it with a soft red silk slip. Oh. You were a prize, an object like the towering pile of goods in their camp, to be used and discarded. 

It didn’t take long for them to chain you to a small post next to a large, velvet armchair. There you sat, resting on your knees on cold marble. You felt ornamental, your humanity dripped away as you merged with the surroundings. You could only be thankful that it was warm in the tent, for the winter winds howled outside as afternoon beckoned. 

When she entered you refused to look up, muscles tensing. 

“Sulking, are we Dear?” It was honeyed, as fabric dropped to the floor, “I wouldn’t, it was a good hit, if you’d gone up slightly it might have even done something,” 

Your cheeks coloured with frustration. You hated her, hated how small she made you feel, how effortlessly she had crushed you. Worst of all you hated the beauty she wielded. Like a serpent, blinding you with glittering scales as she wound around you, squeezing you till you burst. 

“Don’t tell me you’re ignoring me now,” She pouted, summoning your eyes instinctively, “There she is, brave warrior,” 

You frowned, “I suppose it’s not enough that I’m here, you have to mock my only agency,” 

Ambessa moved forward leisurely, in only black underwear and a robe, settling into her armchair, “I never mock a bold manoeuvre, little one, no matter how fruitless,” 

She tugged you forward slightly, your head forced to rest on her thigh as she poured a cup of tea. You grunted, staring at the rug between her legs as she intertwined her fingers in your hair. Her touch was kind and repetitive, caressing your locks as she picked up a book and began to read aloud. Adrenaline was drowning you but your anticipation garnered nothing. She stayed like this for hours, muttering to you. The fire and her touch forced you into acknowledging your exhaustion. Occasionally she would offer water, fingers wielding a crystal glass for you. It took five tries for you to accept, your throat aching from dehydration. You were rewarded with a scratch under your chin as her voice continued to wash over you. In another life this would have filled you with contentment and it grated at you. 

Moments later you were being moved again, picked up as though a feather to rest on her silky thighs. The hand she reattached to your head pushed you into the crook of her shoulder, her smell potent and warm. Iron and sweat clashed with spices and sea air, leaving your flagging mind woozy. You couldn’t escape and you had no way of harming her, so sitting in her lap became your only option. 

You hadn’t noticed your fluttering eyelids and heavy breath until your stomach growled, cramping at its emptiness. Her voice stopped immediately as the book slammed shut. Those eyes, now kind, surveyed you. With a melodic ring, a bell to her side beckoned two maids. 

“What do you wish to eat?” Ambessa asked, tucking a strand behind your ear, “I shall share whatever you have,” 

“Pork stew,” You muttered, desire for food and comfort outweighing your doubts. If she’d wanted you dead, you’d be a corpse. 

“A local delicacy, I’m told,” Her words are in your ear, lips practically against them. 

The food arrived faster than you’d thought possible, steaming and hearty in little gold bowls. Your stomach interjected again, eyes wide and desperate. To your immense surprise, she undid your shackles and allowed you to feed yourself. Though you were still anchored to her lap by a strong arm, this newfound freedom caused a rush of joy. The stew was exceptional, though more decadent than you ever would have had it. The chef must have had a heavy hand with the spices, no cares as to their cost, the heat flooding you. Ambessa seemed comforted too, her portion over double yours as you watched in subtle amazement at her appetite. It could have fed a family of four from your village with ease. 

Whatever plans she had for you, it seemed she would not be enacting them tonight. Your silk slip was a nightgown and nothing more, as she moved with you through the tent into an adjoining room with a large, fur covered bed. 

“Now then,” Her hand held your chin, “Shackles for bed tonight, wouldn’t want you wandering off until you’ve proved your loyalty,” 

Loyalty? That’s what she wanted?

The metal felt warmer than before, less weighted as she clasped it shut and bundled you up. Her form slid in next to you, though she mercifully did not insist you touch her. You did not speak, unable to give her the satisfaction after having to tolerate so much, though she wished you a tender goodnight. 

Your sleep was fitful, filled with slashing blades and burning embers. You awoke alone, furs wrapped tight. A slip of parchment was to your left in a sharp hand. 

I shall be away all day, 

There are clothes and some books on my armchair for you.

Mira will see to anything you need, 

A.M.

True to her word, a slight serving girl entered the moment you moved to the main space, trays of food and drink with her. She helped you dress, braided your hair and even undid the shackles. 

“Lady Medarda said this is a show of trust,” Her words were clear, as if dictating from a note, “If you attempt anything, guards will be on you before you can lift a scrap of the tent’s fabric,”

“Lovely,” You grumbled to yourself, “Her trust gives me the ability to lift a glass unaided,”

“If you behave she will bring your medical journals and allow you to sleep without restraint,” She said, a smile on her face. Of course she had predicted you’d complain. 

The book she had read to you yesterday was in the pile and after breakfast you found yourself wanting to learn its conclusion. Warm in the wool trousers and jumper Ambessa had provided you, you sat in the chair and finished it. If Mira had any opinions about you sitting in her Mistress’s chair she did not voice them, and the small rebellion quieted some of the caged panic that rattled in your chest. Her slowness to act just gave you time to think of an escape plan and then you could get away elsewhere 

The sun set quickly, your time wasted with dozing and books as you memorised each corner of the room. Though this was technically a tent, it was secured enough to act as a house, with the only way out being forward which wasn’t a way out at all. Lady Medarda ensured that. 

When Ambessa returned dinner had long since passed, and you had begrudgingly put yourself to bed. The curtain parted and her fatigued face came into view. 

“There you are,” She sighed, “I thought you would have dug a tunnel out of here by now,” 

“Cutlery’s too dull, no doubt a coincidence,” You found yourself quipping, observing the way her mouth creased into a grin. 

“No need for a sharp knife when your meat is tender,” She purred, moving to the other side of the bed and removing her outer clothes, “Did you have a restful day?”

She seemed genuinely interested, and not for the first time you wondered where the wolf had gone. Shifting your tactics in the hopes of softening her, you gave a muffled answer. Mollified, she curled up as she had the night before and fell asleep almost immediately. 

You were gloriously shackleless and yet if you fled now she would probably crush your throat before both feet hit the floor. It was expected this first night, and probably the second, a test of your resolve and patience. The only way to go would be when she genuinely trusted your obedience. 

Ten days and a camp change later you were beginning to lose patience. She was vigilant, but considerate and it left you now windows of opportunity. You weren’t a hardened warrior as she had joked that first day, you were an apothecary with nothing to do but lounge around and be read to by a infamous warlord. You were beginning to feel mad, a life of leisure so roughly thrust upon you. The conditions only improved with the move and her tent now had its own bathroom, a humongous glistening tub calling to you. Ambessa had begun to ask you for opinions on her expansion plans, seemingly wanting to preserve the charm of your land whilst overpowering it with Noxian glamour. WIth your input she kept the old churches and allowed your people to tend to their lands if they swore allegiance to Noxus. 

In a gilded cage, miles away from your home, you weighed the advantages of staying entangled against the bliss of freedom. The guards were becoming more lax, allowing you to wander through parts of the camp and make friends with Mira and the other maids. She had not harmed you, save pulling your hair that first day and you were well provided for. She’d even managed to tug more substantial conversations from you, even when they lacked a business element. You’d told her of your journey to becoming an apothecary, and she had explained the first time wore armour, clattering to the floor mid fight. 

At night, as rain slammed down and the wind chilled your toes, you would gaze longingly at the doorway and then find yourself tugged into warm, firm arms. Much like reading time, you were held and pressed into her, scent dizzying. She smiled, you had noticed, when she cradled you in her sleep. Each time it would wipe the door from your mind as you succumbed to a more contented sleep. Most confusing of all, she was showing no signs of tiring of you as a ‘toy soldier’ as she had affectionately dubbed you. Nobody seemed to understand why you lingered in her space rather than being given your own, perhaps not even her. 

On the thirtieth day things shifted. After dinner, a heavy dress floating around your feet, you slipped back into the tent and were met with breathy, loud moans. Not Medarda’s, though she was clearly the cause. Hidden by the thick curtains, a high female voice begged and cried the warlord’s name, the creaking of your bed audible. 

Your bed. 

Her bed, you corrected grimly, embarrassment sticky in your throat. The noise ceased almost immediately after you had entered, and your feet froze to the ground. A nameless, unknown girl slipped from the bedroom, meeting your gaze with a pleasure struck face. A vapid giggle left her as she slipped past you. 

Ambessa appeared moments later, robe loose around her, with an easy expression. It darkened imperceptibly in your presence, though you felt the subtle chill. 

“I didn’t realise you were back, Warrior,” She muttered, voice heavy, “That wasn’t planned, I-I shall notify you if I intend to use our space like that,”

Our. 

Wait, did she think you’d be jealous?

“How the mighty have fallen,” You scoffed, unable to meet her gaze, “Shouldn’t I be fearing consequences from you, as the captive,” 

“You’re not the one with a new leg scar,” 

Touche. She seemed to hold you on a pedestal for that act alone and you had yet to decipher why. 

It was made clear by the flurry of people that the bedroom was stripped and remade. It calmed you, the faceless woman erased from the space though you and Ambessa lingered. You didn’t care what she did with her love life but you decided you didn’t need to know about it. 

Unfortunately, it was hard to avoid. Trysts, people trying to charm their way into your her bed as you ate at the communal table and several conquests leaving that you had to face the next day. It made your stomach ache, fingers dancing with nervous energy every time she lay next to you, her scent changing every so slightly if she had had company. Almost another month passed with you on tenterhooks, stuck between the safety of your leisure with her and the stain of sin on your sanctuary. 

The worst of all had to be tonight though. You had awoken alone for the first time, colder than ever, when you heard it. Ambessa’s blissful sigh. She was actively being pleasured in her armchair whilst you fucking slept. Through a crack in the curtain you could see tan legs kneeling just as you had that first night, between her thighs with their head on her skin. The notable difference was how they devoured her, pulling dark moans and filthy words from her gravelly voice. It was hard to ignore, her scent drenching you in the bed you shared as she used another’s body. You tried to stifle the noise, covering your ears and burrowing into the bed. This made the scent issue exponentially worse, especially when the mattress dipped and her still sex slicked body curled against your form. Her lips kissed your forehead, the burn of her skin scalding you. 

Her pleasure haunts your dreams, lurking shadows and echoing noise. Close, but just out of reach. For the first time you wake before her, skin muggy and unsettled as you dressed in a robe and wandered into the morning dew. The grass was beginning to have that telltale icy crunch, cracking under your velvet slippers as you slipped out of the camp unnoticed. Your thoughts sit like damp coffee grounds, thick and grainy as you fight the memories of the night before, choking what they make you feel. It was not jealousy, it was anger to be sure.

There was no direction to your wandering. The treeline called to you with its snowy arms reaching high, animals dancing through the dense white landscape. Not too far in the distance there stood a frozen lake and a childish part of you yearned to skate across it, your body moving you unbidden. It was larger up close, iridescent swirls of nature showing the loose water below. It reminded you of how you felt about your life now, about Ambessa. 

Fear and nostalgia sat steadfast as your ice, hardening your resolve and keeping your wit sharp, but beneath was the flow of her. In two short months she had managed to nurture your underfed body and mind, relishing in your rebellion and cherishing your input. The warlord existed so clearly to you, but you could not reconcile her with the reader who brewed you floral tea. One stirred anxiety and the other calm. Picking up shards of ice and flinging them across the lake, you attempted to untangle the Noxian web within you. Sparkles of sunlight grew higher as you stewed, beginning to blind you as you stepped closer to the edge, ice grunting under you. 

“I’m not sure you’re dressed for whatever this is,” Ambessa’s voice rang out, her body leaning against a tree. 

You had sensed her, though her movements were muffled, form tightening. 

“Something troubling you?” 

“Just fancied a walk,” 

“In a robe and slippers?” She snorted, “Some walk indeed,” 

“Did you need something?”

“You, Dear,” She muttered, at your back in an instant, “I woke up alone,” 

Your heart panged oddly, her presence fueling the rushing currents under the ice, as you lent into her warmth. “Here I am,” 

Her cloak engulfed you, dragging you under as her dulcet tones rasped in your ear, “Let’s get you home, Little one,” 

Home.

It occurred to you then as you stumbled back with her that perhaps you hadn’t been a prisoner in a while. Here you stood, free and yet wishing only to return to the warmth she had made for you. 

A bath was drawn and you crawled into it obediently. Her eyes were shut, though she cleaned your hair and muttered to you about her day to come. It was peace. It was bliss. It was your worst nightmare. Cold receded and you allowed yourself to slip into a warm lull. 

She left soon after, leaving behind new pyjamas and a sweetbread. You stayed in bed, as confused and dazed as those first weeks. 

That night you were awoken by the same wanton sounds in the living room and your nostrils flared, fingers crushing the softness of your sheets. Your emotions flopped again. You hated her. She was vile and infuriating and brutal and somehow constantly having fucking sex. 

When Ambessa slid into bed this time, sweet smells of pleasure wafting from her, you let out a growl. 

“DId I wake you?” She muttered, a smile etched on her lips. 

“You don’t touch me like that,” It slipped out, fury and turmoil.

“Pardon?” Her eyes had darkened, observing you curled and tense. 

“W-We do everything else, you treat me as an equal and give me freedom, but you use our space for cheap pleasures whilst I sleep,” 

“I was unaware it was a pro-”

“You don’t touch me like that,” It was a whine now, “Why?”

“You’ve never asked, little warrior,” Her voice was sin, soaking you and tugging you close, “I didn’t realise you were unhappy with me,”

“Please,” You croaked, gripping her forearm weakly, “I-”

Her lips were on yours, firm and rough, her tongue slipping into your mouth. Pretty girl, she thought, delicate and hers. You melted like butter, nuzzling close and stroking her grey curls. She was perfect, and you finally had all of her. Her fingers danced along your silk nightgown, cupping a breast with a firm hand. Leaning forward, she nipped at your neck as skilled hands massaged neglected flesh. You were keening instantly, eyes glossy and lips parted. 

Minutes drained away against her ministrations as your thighs rubbed together, the burn beginning to hurt as she teased your pebbled nipples in her mouth. Your nightgown was wet from her saliva, and the friction of the fabric with her tongue had you rutting against her thigh. Bruises were forming on your neck, your upper body ruined before she’d even undressed you. 

“Please,” It seemed the only word you could remember, puffy mouth slurring it at every opportunity. 

“Again,” She teased, finally ripping your clothes from you, “Louder,”

You pleaded and gasped, each word heightening your arousal, your desperation, as her fingers stroked your folds. She was kind, allowing you the pleasure you yearned for, slicked thumb rubbing circles on your clit as she stretched you slowly. 

Ambessa felt a swell of triumph. It had taken her endless hours of uncharacteristic kindness and stern patience, allowing you to cycle through defiance, anger and acceptance as often as you needed until you finally succumbed. You were drenched and mewling against her, sex drunk eyes stuck to her. It had been fulfilling, breaking you in, just as she had suspected when she caught eyes with a crazed, dirt covered woman with the audacity to wield a blade to her. 

Tugging orgasm after orgasm from you, cunt quivering and tensing as you drooled mindlessly, she relished in her victory. Her power was etched into you now. 

“Silly girl,” She cooed, voice a knife edge, “I knew I could make you mine,”

Her words cut through the tingling fog. You realised, with a dizzying stab, that you had always been her war prize, she just hadn’t conquered you till now. Each tender touch and measured interaction was to break you into her willing little toy and here you were, fucking yourself shamelessly on her thick digits. You would have been more hurt, a flare of resistance kicking in, if it weren’t for the unabashed love and satisfaction in her eyes. Well then, you guess you’d both been played. The mighty warlord may have broken you, reshaping your desires, but she had fallen in love in the process and you would relish that till your dying breath. 

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to just use me months ago,” You quipped, starting a slow and methodical worship of her scarred body. 

“You wouldn’t have wanted it, warrior,” She muttered, amused by your acceptance, “I am many things, but I only fuck those who ask,” 

“I want it,” You sucked her nipple, humping her leg as her eyes slammed shut. 

“I know, doll,” Her hands pulled your hair, making you yelp happily, “You soaked my hand like a good girl to prove it,” 

For a moment, as you curled between her legs and began to eat like a woman starved, you wondered if this was the right choice. 

Ambessa let out a noise, confusing to your ears. It was nothing like the others you had heard in her time with others, it was delirious and light, happy pants slipping out as you sucked and fucked her with your tongue. She came quickly, face blank as she suffocated you with her cunt. Her touch, despite it all, was tender. She was yours and you were hers. 

There was nothing more right than that. 

[pomefioredove]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ green is the color of envy (and poison)

type of post: fic characters: neige, vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, vague possessiveness maybe angst idk, oooh drama author's note: I wanted a break from headcanons and had this strange urge to do a character study for neige. here I am, writing this at midnight

Neige Leblanche does not hate Vil Schoenheit.

The thought had not even occurred to him.

In fact, if you had even asked as much, his wide, doe-like eyes would fill with pretty tears, and he would ask you, in a trembling voice, if you really thought of him so cruelly.

Neige Leblanche did not hate anyone. On the contrary, he had so much love, it practically overflowed from him, touching the ground at his feet and imprinting itself on everything he held.

He was, for all intents and purposes, a vision of loveliness, a sunrise, morning dew on the petal of a white lily. He would have gladly, if you asked him, plucked each star out of the sky for you, written you a thousand songs, laid himself at your feet in adoration.

He was cupid, a chubby-faced, blushing cherub.

He had been content, for a time. Happy, even, with his little life, the family and career he had built with his own two hands, though you wouldn't know it from their softness.

Then, there was you.

You. You. The magicless prefect of Night Raven College. An otherworldly being. A hero.

You. So kindhearted, always gentle with the first years and animals. So polite, with him and his friends. So brave, facing danger and coming out unscathed. Your hope and gratefulness despite your circumstances reminded him, in a way, of himself.

There was no other explanation for it. You were sent for him.

Neige had simply never been so sure of anything. It felt right. It felt perfect. You were the one he'd been waiting for. You were his.

After the VDC, he couldn't stop thinking about you. You! You were perfect for him, his soulmate, and he didn't need to know you to know that. He'd never felt like this before, after all. It must be love.

You feel it too, don't you?

Limb by limb, he sews together a ragdoll of you in his mind. Something simple. Soft. Beautiful. Something for his thoughts to play with. He gives you a sword, one day, and he makes you a knight. He dresses you in the finest of silks, and he makes you a noble. He pushes up the corners of your sewn-together mouth, and he makes you smile back at him.

You're kind. You're brave. You're loving. You're loyal. You're chivalrous. You're anything he could want or need, anything at all, because you're his.

Why would fate lead him to someone who wasn't already perfect?

And, oh, how he wants to pick you flowers. Neige will make you breakfast in bed, and sing for you. Everyone loves him; and he loves everyone. But it isn't enough. You're his soulmate. Don't you know?

Why do you keep looking at each other like that.

You're so friendly, just like Neige, always so eager to please. Right? That's what it is. Right?

There could be no other reason for you and Vil Schoenheit to look at each other like that. As if you know something that Neige doesn't. As if you're having a conversation with only your eyes. What is that? What does it mean?

Why does he feel so comfortable touching you?

A hand on the small of your back, an arm around your waist. He corrects your posture with both hands on your shoulders. He taps your thigh when you're distracted. He holds your face in both palms to scold you for smudging the eyeliner he had so tediously put on you before coming here...

Why do you smile at him when he lectures you? Why does he smile back?

This strange, dizzying feeling, this tightness in Neige's chest, this unwelcomed weight, can't just be confusion.

He can only lie to himself for so long.

You feel it, too... don't you? Don't you get butterflies when you look at him? Don't you feel dizzy? Don't you think of him?

Vil murmurs something in your ear with a sly smile, and you laugh.

And you haven't even looked at Neige once yet. The thought makes him clench his fists under the table.

As this new, painful weight settles in his stomach, a dizzying thought sits with it.

Neige Leblanche is jealous.

Of Vil Schoenheit.