#me worrying about the American left again

[grudgecollector]

Afterglow | Nam-gyu / American!Reader

You're reading part five

Story Summary: Nam-gyu gets a new job and finds himself falling for the girl behind the deli counter.

Words: 2.3k

Tags/Warnings: Nam-gyu and Thanos have PTSD, canon divergence, Thanos lives, Nam-gyu doesn't know how to process negative emotions, angst, self harm, fluff, smut, dry humping, p n v, unprotected, creampie

A/N: Haiii what a whiplash of tags

It's been absolutely forever since I've written smut so I apologize if this isn't good LMAO

I just felt I might as well give you guys a little gift after last chapter

Anyway I'm not sure if this is going to be the last chapter. But I feel like it's a fitting end for these two. I might do some little tid bits in the future, I've got some ideas already, but you'll just have to bare with me.

I'm a little iffy about this chapter. I have no idea if it makes sense or if it's actually good, but I think that's only because I kind of struggled to write it and have been staring at it WAY TOO LONG.

MASTERLIST

Lightning strikes rippled through the dark rainy skies above Nam-gyu’s apartment. Streaks of yellow light blooming before each thunderous boom echoed above. The awning above shielded Nam-gyu from the downpour that fell in thick drops, smacking against the ground in quick succession. 

Nam-gyu’s chest felt hollow, emotions numb, but his head still had a storm raging inside. He felt terrible. You had been so excited to show him and Su-bong all that Halloween had to offer in America.

He would be lying if he said he didn't share your enthusiasm, but the events of this morning had ruined everything.

A particularly bad nightmare had woken Nam-gyu up. Sweat was covering his chest and the back of his neck. He blinked several times trying to register where he was, your horrified screams still echoing through his head. 

He had wanted to call you, to receive the comfort your voice always brought him, but he didn’t want to worry you so early in the morning.

Throughout the day his thoughts ran wild, the nightmare playing over and over in more and more gruesome scenarios. Nam-gyu felt like he was being sucked back into that nightmarish place with each minute that passed. 

Nam-gyu flicked the flimsy ashes of his cigarette onto the pavement below. He picked at the skin around his fingernails carelessly. His eyelids sagged a little, his lips downturned in a cold expression, irritation jabbing itself into his side. 

He honestly felt embarrassed, a brief insecure thought of “Am I overreacting?” passing through his head. Nam-gyu was used to acting like this around Su-bong, having witnessed each other at their very worst many times. But to have you see this part of him? It made him want to crawl out of his skin.

You shouldn’t have to be with someone so broken. 

Nam-gyu didn’t want to admit it to himself, but his friend was right. 

He couldn’t keep tearing himself apart like this. And he knew once he fell down that slippery slope, he would drag you down right alongside him.

He would become the worst version of himself all over again. The self centered, arrogant, careless asshole he always became when he was high. 

The cherry of his cigarette was so bright against the blackened night sky, the white paper burning back, peeling into a burnt black before turning grey as he took another slow drag. 

Just one more score… One more hit… Just one more bump… One last time…

The cigarette sizzled against Nam-gyu’s wrist, he sucked in a loud hiss through his teeth. The burning pain bloomed through his skin as he let the remains of the orange filter fall to the ground pathetically, an angry red burn staring back at him. 

~~~

The next few days dragged on at an agonizing pace. You hadn’t seen Nam-gyu or Su-bong since that night, and it left a pit of hopelessness in your stomach. You constantly had to remind yourself to put your phone away, rereading the text Su-bong had sent you over and over again. 

“Just give us a few days and I promise you’ll get some answers.”

Each passing second you waited for that chime to come. Glancing back to the black screen of your phone more often than you would like to admit. That nausea stirred by anxiety bit at the back of your throat for hours on end during the second day, tears threatening to fall from your eyes. 

In a way you were terrified that this would somehow result in the end of your relationship, overthinking every possible outcome that could happen once Su-bong finally does text you. 

You knew deep down that you were being ridiculous. But in the past your relationships have ended over much more trivial things. Stupid things that could have been talked about, solved with a simple conversation. 

No, this couldn’t be what ended things with Nam-gyu. You couldn’t let someone like him slip through your fingers like that. No matter how broken or bruised he thought he was. 

But as you sat on his couch listening to Su-bong recount the events they experienced while in South Korea, you finally started to understand. 

The blood and carnage they witnessed, it would have been unbelievable if Su-bong didn’t show you the articles to back up everything he said. 

“BREAKING: Underground deathmatch operation in South Korea finally comes to a halt, forty two people rescued, number of arrests unknown at this time.” 

You looked over at Nam-gyu who was at the other end of the couch, legs tucked into his chest as he smoked a blunt lazily, looking everywhere but at you. He hasn’t said a word since you sat down, his fingers dragging across his bottom lip softly as he listened to his friend talk. 

A tense silence hung in the air after Su-bong finished. His eyes lingered on Nam-gyu before looking at you. 

How does someone even respond to something like this? Where do you even begin? You have never watched someone die, let alone be murdered. In all honesty you thought that Nam-gyu might have just relapsed, and that he was too scared to tell you. 

You could have never guessed it was something as horrifying as this. 

Nam-gyu cleared his throat, “Please don’t feel like you need to pity me. The stuff we went through was… It was bad but-" He was quiet for a second, stuck on his own words, "Fuck I don’t even know how to talk about this shit, nevermind.” He laughed bitterly, going back to smoking. 

Being stuck in an environment like that can fundamentally change a person for life. Preyed upon at their lowest points, broken down into the worst versions of yourself. Hundreds of people ripping each other apart lest they fall first, having to fight your way out with no guarantee that you would live to see the sunlight again.

You couldn’t even begin to imagine what it must have been like for them. 

“All we’re asking is for you to be a little patient with us.” Su-bong said finally, picking awkwardly at the strings on his pants. 

You realize that they both must have felt extremely vulnerable right now. One of their darkest secrets finally out in the open, revealing the throbbing gash that was their minds. 

“Of course.” 

~~~

Nam-gyu’s room was freezing. A fan humming loudly in the corner of his room, the notch turned to the highest setting. The curtain over his window fluttered, the streetlights from outside briefly lighting his sparsely decorated walls, illuminating your soft gaze. Nam-gyu could almost trick himself into thinking stars were in your eyes, sparkling as they stared into his soul. 

Your fingertips kissed the skin of his cheek, your lips a sweet caress against his as you whispered softly to him. Words that soaked into his skin like sunlight on a summer’s day, he could almost hear birds chirp in the back of his mind as his eyes slipped closed.

That storm raging inside of him slowly turned into a soft drizzle, and for a brief moment Nam-gyu almost felt like a rainbow could bloom from behind the grey clouds of his mind. 

You made everything feel right. 

Every thorny fear stabbed into Nam-gyu’s quickly beating heart kissed away by each touch. 

“I love you, Nam-gyu… More than I have ever loved anyone.” You whispered against his cheek. 

His blunt fingernails scratched oh so softly at the skin under your shirt, drawing meaningless patterns as you continued showering him in your adoration.

Nam-gyu swore that his heart was going to beat out of his chest, the only thing that plagued his mind now was you. 

“I’m really sorry…” Nam-gyu finally spoke up, his voice weaker than he had expected it to be. 

You looked at him curiously, fingers combing through his hair gently. Goosebumps rose up on Nam-gyu’s arms as he tried to think about what he wanted to say next. 

“I know that you were really scared a few days ago… And I just feel bad, I should have told you about all of this sooner, but…” He took a deep, shaky breath, “I was terrified that you would see me differently. Like I'm some broken… thing that needed fixing.” 

A kiss was pressed softly to Nam-gyu’s forehead, then to his cheek, there was a long beat of silence. Nam-gyu could tell you were carefully figuring out how to word your response. 

“Don’t apologize for not telling me. I’m just thankful that you felt safe enough to let me in like this.” 

~~~

Over the next month things started to settle back down. Nam-gyu still struggled, as any normal person would in his circumstance. But eventually your usual routines were slowly restored, and things felt like they were back to normal again.

Nam-gyu was smiling a lot more, his usual playful attitude finally shining back through. It seemed as though a weight was finally being lifted from his tense shoulders, allowing him to relax back into his life. 

And as a way to provide a helpful distraction from their troubles, you got them into one of your favorite shows that you watched as a teenager. 

It was an American show that neither man had heard of before, they were interested enough to start watching it, and now they were hooked. You wished so desperately you could watch for the first time all over again. Wishing you could share their shocked reactions when their wide eyes would meet yours. 

“Oh my god- get this bitch out of my face.” Nam-gyu groaned, a particularly annoying character walking on screen. 

“He’s really not that bad.” Su-bong commented, crunching loudly on a piece of popcorn, “At least he killed that one guy.” 

Nam-gyu glances up at you from where his head was laying on your thigh, as if to say “Can you believe this guy?” before rolling his eyes and saying,

“Yeah that was the most useful thing he’s done this entire season.”

A small laugh leaves you, your fingers softly playing with his hair. Your fingertips softly brushed against the shell of his ear, making him shiver a little. There was a certain heat to your touch, grabbing his attention as you trailed closer to the base of his neck and around to trace the side of his adams apple. 

You watched him carefully. Watched as his hand slowly came up to your thigh, gripping just above your knee, his body was more tense than before. But his eyes didn’t leave the screen for a second, not even as your fingertips dipped below the collar of his shirt and your fingernails scratched against the skin just below his collarbone. 

~~~

His lips whispered across your skin, fingers gripping harshly on your hips as he brought you closer. You could feel how hard he was against your clothed center. You could feel the heat of his cock pressing into you as you grind down against him, small moans slipping from his mouth between breathless kisses. 

Your neck was wet with his spit, bite marks already blooming into delicious bruises. One of your hands weaved through his hair, deepening your desperation as his tongue made its way past your parted lips. 

He guides your hips with precision, the press of him making your desire heighten with each salacious movement. You felt like a woman starved, every fibre of your being craving him. With every sound that left his lips, every time your name dripped from his tongue. 

“Fuck, honey.” He whispered against your lips, he braced a hand on your back as he flipped the both of you over, his hips working against yours harder than before, “Fuck…”

Nam-gyu separated himself from you for just a second, pushing his boxers down just enough. You were quick to remove your own underwear, throwing it to the floor. Your legs quickly found their way back to his waist, your hands pulling him back down for another kiss. 

You couldn’t keep your hands off of him. Your lips pressed soft kisses to his jaw when he leaned his forehead against your shoulder, pushing himself inside of you so slowly. The stretch of his cock made your lips part with a gasp, your nails bit into his shoulder as he started grinding into you, the tip kissing your cervix. 

“Shit, baby, always so fucking tight.” His words sent jolts through your whole body, “So good...” He whispered into your ear. 

His first thrust almost pushed the air from your lungs, a steady pace being set as his hands explored your chest. He squeezed your breast before he brought his hand to brush his thumb against your throat. 

Sweet moans poured from his mouth as he pressed messy kisses to the side of your throat. His hips slapped yours loudly, his cock ramming so deep inside you that it leaves you breathless. You felt like you were vibrating with pleasure. 

“‘S fucking good- shit.” His hand trailed down between your sweaty bodies, his middle finger finding your clit. Sparks traveled through your body to the tips of your toes, his fingers massaged against your bundle of nerves softly.

“Please…” You whine out pathetically. 

“You gonna cum baby?” You could see the smirk playing at the corner of his lips. 

His hips were slamming into you harder now, fucking into you like it would be the last time. He was savoring every single drag of his cock inside your velvet walls, squeezing against him so tightly, pulling him back in. 

“Nam-gyu, oh fuck!” Your thighs shook against him as your orgasm crashed into you, your fingers clawing against his shoulders. 

“Shit.” He gasped, his hips grinding into yours and you could feel him twitch as he finally came, hot spurts coating your insides. 

Nam-gyu’s eyes met yours. They were soft, swimming with unspoken emotions, a small smile tugged at his lips. His fingers brushed away the sweaty strands of hair from your cheek, fingertips grazing your jaw as he brought you into a crushing kiss. A kiss that said, 

I love you… I love you… I love you…

[guavagyal]

I'd be cool with a lot of these edgy leftists on Twitter if they had actual, tangible plans for when shit hits the fan after Election Day. being snarky on social media isn't any form of mutual aid.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 1 - The Introduction

Summary: Captain Price has been fighting the requests to add an omega to his team until those requests become commands. You find yourself traveling half a world away to join a pack of highly trained soldiers to balance out their dynamic. Not all of them are quite so happy about your arrival, but you're a good omega who does as you're told.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, brief moments of panic on the reader's side, scenting, military inaccuracies, let's be real this is so unrealistic but it's a/b/o you're not here for accuracy.

Author's Note: I couldn't help it and I've found myself falling into the Call of Duty brainrot once again so here I am to bless you with some poly 141 a/b/o goodness. It's just part 1, I promise things will get better as the story goes along.

MASTERLIST | Next ->

“I don’t like this.” 

“Believe me, John, I know. But the higher ups are putting a lot of pressure on us with this initiative and I’ve pushed back as much as I can. They’re convinced it will be good for morale and team dynamics.” 

He wants to protest, but he’s been protesting this idea for three months. “What more can you tell me about her?” 

“Not much that isn’t already in her file.” Her tone is not lost on him. She can, but that’s not a conversation to be held over the phone. “She’s quiet and polite, a bit jumpy but she relaxes once she gets to know you. Remember, I picked her out myself.” 

That doesn’t make him feel any better.

He flips through the file again after he hangs up with Laswell. He almost has it memorized by now, having looked through time and time again since the letter was dropped on his desk three months ago. 

He stares at the photo, the headshot taken by the institute in her file. She’s cute, as most omegas are. American, but she had grown up on military bases. At least this world wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to her. He grimaces as he looks over her DOB below the photo. She’s young, younger than he would have liked, but at least she was old enough to drink. 

He sighs through his nose as he flips through her records. She’s been in the institute for nearly ten years, likely sent as soon as she presented. He flips through page after page of test results, notes from her instructors, personality and temperament analysis, essays and essays worth of information written on her and also by her. He didn’t care so much about what her instructors thought, he was more interested in her. 

“Christ.” He breathes as he pauses on the page with her statistics, rubbing his eyes. The file has everything in it, down to heat tracking and her early signs it was starting. 

As if he doesn’t have enough to worry about, now he’s going to have an omega under his care. 

He hasn’t considered taking an omega in well over a decade. Back when he had been young and reckless, he had once considered starting his own pack, but then his career in the military began to take off and he let that dream go. It became too dangerous, and he had seen many times what happened to omegas who were left behind during deployments for too long. 

His team didn’t need an omega. He had briefly considered it in the beginning as they adjusted to the new dynamics, but he knew it was too dangerous and their schedules were far too unpredictable for the sort of stability omegas needed. He had fought time and time again against the push to add an omega to the team. They had settled into their roles easily, and operated perfectly fine with the missing dynamic. 

Then the Omega Initiative was born and he found himself with no grounds to refuse anymore. Task Force 141 was getting an omega whether they wanted one or not. 

He can’t help the tickle in the back of his mind that something else might be going on. He flips back to the first page, staring at the omega’s photo. They’d be here in a week. She’d be flying with Laswell to London where she’d be given a few days to adjust before they’d fly in here and she’ll be left with her new pack. 

Price closes the file, leaning back in his chair. He has a lot to do in the next week. 

You stare down at the files laid out on the table. Four of them, hardly more than a single page each, most of which was blacked out. They’re all older than you, their birth years at least visible to you. Most of the things on the file you don’t understand, and you weren't even sure how tall they were since you can’t convert meters to feet in your head. 

You’re tired and on edge, nervous about tomorrow when you'd meet your new pack. You sit back in your seat, letting out a long breath. 

“I know.” Station Chief Laswell, Kate as you had been told to call her, takes the seat across from you. “You’re going to have to get used to hearing the word classified. What they tell you about themselves is, of course, up to them, but the things they do, the places they go, even with your security clearance as high as it is, that will all still be-” 

“Classified?” You finish for her. 

Kate smiles. “Exactly. It’s mostly for your safety. The less you know...” 

The less there is to make you a target. 

You’d been given that speech before you left D.C. You’d been given a lot of briefings, as Kate had called them, since you had been pulled into the director’s office at The Institute and told to pack your bag. You remembered Kate and the interview you had done a few days prior. It hadn’t been any different than the other interviews you’d done before, except that you were chosen this time. 

What had come after was three months of intense briefings and training, for what, you hadn’t really known at the time. They had told you little, at least until last week when Kate pulled you into her office and told you what was happening and why it was happening and where you were going. 

“You don’t have anything to worry about, though.” Kate continues, something you’ve been told over and over again during your briefings. “They’re all good men. John and I know each other well. I wouldn’t have picked you if I didn’t think you could handle them.” 

You continue to stare at the files. Two alphas, two betas. It wasn’t an unusual pack, evenly balanced, except for the missing omega. If the situation were different they may have elected to have two omegas to keep the even balance. This wasn’t a normal situation, though. This was a military pack, special forces at that. It wasn’t unusual for packs to form on bases, especially those stationed together for long periods of time. Alphas and betas united together with one purpose, one collective goal. 

That was why so many alphas were drawn to the military. 

That, and the excuse for violence. 

Omegas weren’t allowed to enlist, omegas weren’t allowed to hold many jobs at all. It was usually only in special circumstances, and even then, they were more likely to be assigned into a pack than be allowed to work and care for themselves. In a lot of ways you were lucky. You wouldn’t have to fight to find a pack, fight to find a match, fight for one of the few decent alphas left in the world. Your road had been chosen for you as soon as you presented. 

In a lot of ways, though, things were worse for you. 

“How do you feel?” Kate asks, looking you over. You’ve grown to like the beta Station Chief in the weeks you’ve spent together. 

“Tired.” You run a hand across your face. 

“The time difference will do that to you.” Kate says, giving you a sympathetic look. “Not to mention everything else.” Kate stands, stacking the files and pushing them to the center of the table. “I have a couple more errands to run, so get some rest. I’ll pick us up some dinner on the way back.” 

You look nervous. 

He can’t blame you. He’d felt a bit of a nervous twist to his stomach this morning as he’d finished ensuring everything was in place. He doesn’t often get nervous anymore, years and years of experience giving him the ability to expect anything and react accordingly. 

This is different, though. This isn’t a soldier he’s greeting, this is an omega. 

His omega. 

As Pack Alpha he had more of a claim to you than anyone else. It was his mark you’d wear, his scent that everyone would notice first. It was his duty to protect you, to ensure you have everything you need. You’re not another member of his team, you’re not even a soldier. You’re just a poor civilian that’s been thrust into this world of danger and secrecy. 

“Captain Price.” Laswell greets him, shaking his hand. 

He greets her back, but he can’t help his gaze as it flickers to the omega. You’re small, as expected of an omega. Your sweatshirt hides most of your curves, but your jeans hug your full thighs. Most omegas are small and soft, designed to be held and healthy enough to bear children when cared for correctly. 

He doesn’t even want to think about that. 

Laswell introduces you, your feet shuffling a bit as you step forward toward him. Coming from an institute, you likely hadn’t had much contact with alphas before now. You try to stand taller, look braver as you stand before him, but he can smell the tangy edge of anxiety surrounding your scent. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” You say, shaking his hand. It’s small and warm in his, your skin soft and slightly clammy. 

“The pleasure is mine.” He says, releasing your hand. 

You let it drop to your side, pulling your sleeve down over your fingers. You shift on your feet, your body language betraying your nervousness. Hunched shoulders, fingers tugging your sleeves over your hands, shifting your weight foot to foot as if you might take off running at a moment’s notice. Your eyes dart across the airfield taking in the movement around them. You’re on edge, alert, and likely a little overwhelmed. 

“I’ll show you around and let you get settled.” He says, his eyes shifting to Laswell. “You and I have some things to discuss.” 

You follow behind him with Laswell as he leads you towards the building that served as the 141’s home base. He points out different places you might find yourself visiting. The gym, the rec area, the mess hall, and finally their barracks. He leads you down the hallway where their rooms were located, pointing out each door before he gets to yours, sandwiched between his own and Gaz’s, with Soap and Ghost on the other side. 

He opens the door, letting you enter. He stays in the doorway, letting you explore the small space. Your bags had been brought in, the faint hint of the beta Corporal that had brought them in still lingering in the air. There’s four shirts folded neatly on the desk, one from each of them that they’d slept in for the last couple days to give you a chance to get used to their scents. 

“The lads are still running a simulation, but they’ll be done within the hour.” He says, drawing your gaze from the bed. “We’ll let you get settled in and I’ll come get you when they’re ready.” 

“Thank you, sir.” You say.

Laswell steps in as he steps away for a moment, letting the two of you say your goodbyes. You’d likely see Laswell again, and soon, but he knows after three months you’ll have bonded with her just a bit. 

Price leads Laswell to his office after she leaves your room, his ears picking up the sound of the lock clicking into place as they walk away. He’d left it on for a reason, wanting to give you the ability to feel safe and secure as you adjusted, even though you had nothing to worry about. 

“So.” Price says as he sits behind his desk, reclining back in his seat. “What can you really tell me about her?” 

Laswell gives him a knowing look. “The CIA has had their eyes on her for years now. The Omega Initiative as it is now, isn’t how it started. They were going to train omegas as agents, and she was one of the first names on that list. They had FIOT put a hold on her file once she came of age.” 

Federal Institute of Omega Training. The name was stamped on the front of your file. It was the highest rated institute in America, the place where most omegas born to politicians, government workers, and some military went. 

“They had agents go in and pretend to be interested parties just to make it seem like there was interest in her.” Laswell continues. “But, you know omegas aren’t cut out for this kind of work, so they changed the Initiative. She was still at the top of the list, but there were some...hesitations as to where to place her.” 

“What sort of hesitations?” He asks. 

“You saw those scores, John. She’s a good omega. Those purebred instincts are strong, and that makes her an easy target.” 

Most omegas born from an alpha/omega pairing were good at listening to their instincts. That was why they carried such a high standing, even among omegas. But, being so closely intune with their instincts made them more sensitive, more vulnerable. They were more likely to give in to an alpha, if the alpha knew how to play them right. 

Laswell pulls a file from her bag, sliding it across his desk to him. “She’d get walked all over in a larger pack, and the last thing she needs is to get hurt by an overbearing alpha.” There’s something hidden in Laswell’s words, his mind filing that away for later. “I need someone I can trust with her. She’s smart, learns fast. She needs a challenge, but also someone that won’t take advantage of her.” 

“It sounds like you’ve grown rather fond of her.” He says, flipping open the first page of the file. It’s the CIA’s data on her, everything they’d done in the last three months to prepare her for her life as a Special Operations pack omega. 

“Like I said, I’m the one that picked her for your team.” Laswell leans forward against his desk. “She knows what she’s in for. She was well prepared for this kind of life. She’ll let you mark her, no questions asked because that’s what she’s been told to do. She’s obedient, John, almost to a fault.”

“That could be dangerous.” Price says. 

“Yes, it could.” Laswell says. “I’m leaving her in your capable hands. She has my number, and so do you.” 

Price walks her back to the airfield, his head reeling a bit as he replays their conversation over and over. The hidden messages in Laswell’s words aren’t lost on him, and his gut feeling that something else was going on had been correct.

“Take care of her, John.” Laswell says. “I’m putting a lot of trust in you.” 

He hasn’t failed her yet. 

Your body is tingling. You’re not sure if it’s nerves or something else. You haven’t been around an alpha since the day of your presentation, when you had been pulled from your home and taken to the institute. You had nearly wanted to keel over when you came face to face with Captain Price. Your alpha. He’s a commanding presence, the tickling at the back of your neck still not quite gone even though the door is shut and locked. 

The bed is comfortable, not any worse than what you slept on in the institute. There’s extra pillows and blankets stacked at the end, likely for your nest when you finally settled enough to make one. The door to the private bathroom is cracked open, facing the end of the bed. There’s four shirts on the desk next under the window next to the bathroom door, and your bags are sitting in front of the dresser and closet situated on the opposite wall from the bed.

You push yourself to stand, ignoring the way your legs wobble as you stare down at the four shirts on the desk. They’re all olive green, folded neatly in the exact same way. You wouldn’t have known any different, except for the scents gently wafting from them, and the names on the tags. 

Price. You pick up the one that will be the most familiar, bringing it to your nose. Tobacco smoke, aftershave, something sharp like whiskey. All things you had scented on him in your short time together. Underneath you catch a whiff of his natural scent. Something woody, fresh. A tingle crawls up your spine, prickling in the back of your neck again. You drop the shirt on the desk, taking a step back to breathe in the unscented air for a moment. 

You’re breathing heavily as you go for the shirt next to Price’s. Garrick. You press the shirt against your nose, inhaling. Aftershave, different from Price’s. Some kind of lotion. Coconut oil maybe? You can’t pick up more than the base scent of beta, the soothing almondy scent. 

You take another deep inhale of it, letting the beta scent ease you before you let it drop to the desk beside Price’s. You grab the one next to it, looking at the tag. MacTavish. You lift it to your face, scenting another aftershave. There’s something citrusy mixed in as well, slightly watered down compared to the scent of the aftershave. Again, you can’t pick up more than the scent of beta, letting it ease the tickling on the back of your neck again before you let it drop back on the desk. 

One more to go. 

You pick up the last shirt. Ghost. The faceless one. You bring the shirt to your nose, wincing slightly at the sharp tang of gunpowder and metal, smoke and a lingering aftershave. You try to smell deeper, but your nose burns with scent blocker spray. You let out a huff, dropping it back onto the desk. 

This Ghost was dedicated to his anonymity. 

He’s going to be a problem. 

You sink back onto the bed, eyeing the shirts. Your senses have heightened, picking up the scents wafting off of them, mixing in the air. You pick up the sound of boots approaching, three pairs of feet making their way down the hall. You can hear them talking and laughing as they approach. There’s a pause outside your door and you hold your breath, sitting as still as possible. 

Of course they can smell you. You had sprayed yourself down with scent blockers before you left the hotel, but it had likely worn off by now. Even with the blocker, the scent of unmated omega wasn’t hidden easily. The entire base had probably caught a whiff of your scent by now. Caramel, vanilla, strawberries with the undertone of pure omega that made alphas go insane. 

“Coming, Si?” 

Your lungs burn as you hold your breath, and for a moment you’re afraid your heartbeat might be audible from how hard it’s pounding. Steps recede from your door and you don’t breathe until they’ve disappeared. 

You decide to unpack to keep your mind busy as you wait. You don’t have much, mostly clothes from the institute and toiletries. You don’t even have a photo of your family, that part of your life behind you. You put your clothes away, venturing into the small bathroom to put away your toiletries. There’s towels already inside, along with a few things like shampoo and soap. They’re all scentless, like the things you had brought from the institute. 

Nothing that could dampen your natural scent. 

You almost don’t hear the knock on the door, lost in your own thoughts. You take a steadying breath, hand hesitating over the lock. What if it wasn’t Price? What if it wasn’t anyone from your new pack? 

“Just me.” Price’s voice comes through the door. 

Of course he would notice your hesitation. He’s a trained soldier, he’s always going to be aware of his surroundings. You unlock the door, opening it slowly. 

Price greets you with a small smile, your nose picking up the scent of his aftershave and the lingering scent of tobacco smoke now that you’re attune to it. “They’re ready, if you are.” He says. 

You nod. “Yeah, I guess.” It wasn’t like you had much of a choice to say no. 

You slip out the door, closing it behind you. You’d ditched your sweatshirt, wearing a scoop-necked shirt to give them easy access for the scenting. Price leads you down the hallway, back towards his office. You’re not quite sure what to expect, the nervous twisting in your stomach coming back. 

“I thought we’d do it in a meeting room.” Price says, likely picking up on the change in your scent. “Somewhere neutral.” 

It’s smart, it’ll keep you from getting too overwhelmed by other scents or sounds. The last thing you need to do is panic and send them all into a spiral. Talk about a first impression. 

Price pauses outside a door, looking down at you. His gaze is kind, almost sympathetic as you take a deep breath. “Ready?” 

Not really, but you wouldn’t dare say that. You have to do this, and the sooner you got the awkward part over with, the easier things will get. You nod, hands tugging nervously at the bottom of your shirt. “Yes, sir.” 

Price opens the door, stepping in first. You’re glad for the few moments you’re hidden behind him as the scents in the room slam into you. Alpha and two betas, scents you recognize from their shirts. They stand as Price enters, and for a moment you want to stay hidden behind the alpha but you know you have to be brave. You were made for this. The words drilled into your brain over and over again at the institute flash through your brain. You have one job in life and this is it. 

You can hold power over them. 

The words from the book your bunkmate had smuggled in flash through your mind. “The Powerful Omega”, it had been titled. Authored by a progressive omega, it talked all about how powerful omegas could be, even those forced into traditional roles. You can get them all wrapped around your finger if you wanted to. 

You steady your nerves, clenching your hands into fists at your sides and step out from behind Price. Your skin prickles as three sets of eyes are set on you. Price is speaking but you’re not really listening as you take them in. You recognize the two betas from their files.

Gaz, you pick up Price doing introductions, has kind eyes. He’s tall for a beta, almost the same height as Price. He waves to you, offering you a small smile. 

Soap is the shortest of the four, more what you would expect from a beta. “Good to meet ya, lass.” He greets you, giving you a charming smile. He’s going to push your boundaries, you can tell. 

You’re beginning to see the dynamics already. 

“And Ghost.” Price says, your eyes finally moving to the place you’ve been avoiding since you walked in. 

All hulking muscle, Ghost seems to take up the entire room. Your heart flutters nervously as you meet his dark gaze, his face hidden by a balaclava with a skull painted on the front. His presence is oppressive, tickling the back of your neck. You’re not sure if you want to run or submit to him, every inch of him screaming alpha. 

Price’s hand on your back nearly makes you jump, your gaze finally drawing away from Ghost and back to him. “Come on, take a seat. Tell us about yourself.”  

Price sits at the head of the table, Ghost, Soap and Gaz to his left. You take the seat on the right, staring at the other three members of your pack. You jump into your spiel, things that they already knew if they’d read your file. There’s not much else to tell, since everything about you was in that file. That was its purpose, to make you look as appealing as possible to potential alphas and packs. 

“What about your family?” Soap asks, the sharp scent of your nervous energy spiking for a moment. “Do you still talk to them?” 

You shake your head. “Not for a few years. Institutes don’t really encourage keeping ties with previous packs, but I know there were a few omegas that did. It was hard to keep track of where my family was.” 

“Your father was a Marine, correct?” Price, even though they already know the answer. 

You nod. “Yes, sir.” 

“You lived on base?” He asks. 

You nod again. “Yes, sir. We moved a lot, but we lived in pack housing on every base. We were a family pack, and I was number four of eight by the time I presented.” 

“When did you get sent to the Institute?” He asks, almost regretting answering it. 

It’s a sore subject, he can tell by the change in your face and the slight souring of your scent. “The day after I presented.” You say. 

The tension in the room is palpable, Soap and Gaz’s eyes widening in shock as Ghost's shoulders tense just slightly. Price stares at you with a sympathetic look in his eyes. He knew it was likely shortly after, but that soon? Most would wait until the presentation had finished at least, and usually there was some downtime when it came to getting into an institute as well. 

“My father was a traditionalist alpha.” You say, something they also knew by your status. It was printed all over your file, squeezed in every place it could be as a reminder of your worth to whomever was reading it. “It was because we were already on base that they got to me so fast.” You explain. “It was my dad’s status in the Marines that got me into FIOT.” 

“What was it like, in the institute?” Gaz asks, wanting to change the subject a bit, if only to ease the sourness in your scent. 

You huff out a laugh, the corner of your lips lifting in a smile. “Not unlike the military, I think. We had strict schedules we stuck to every day. Everything was dictated for us, what we wore, what we learned, what we did with our free time and how often we got it. Even what we ate was chosen for us. We always had to be ready to be tested at any time, and we were always being observed.” 

“Your test scores were high.” Price remarks. 

You shrug. “I’m a perfect omega, or so my instructors always said. It comes easily to me. I don’t really have to think much about it.” 

“Did you really kneel for two hours straight?” Gaz asks. 

You huff out a laugh. “Yeah. There was one day...it was a couple years ago. I don’t know what caused it but there was something in the air. We were all on edge and worked up. The director got tired of us and made us all kneel in the mess hall during our two hour afternoon break. No cushions, no pillows. Just all forty of us, kneeling on the marble floor for two hours. Not everyone could do it. Quite a few got too fidgety, couldn’t handle the pain. Three even passed out.” 

“How did you manage it?” Gaz asks. 

Price wasn’t a fan of using instinctual habits as punishment. It left a bad taste in his mouth, and he can only imagine what else you could say they forced you to do with such nonchalance. 

“To be honest, I don’t remember most of it. I just let my mind go somewhere else and before I knew it the time was up.” You shrug.

“We won’t make you kneel for two hours.” Price says. “And definitely not without a pillow.” 

You smile softly. “Thank you, sir.” 

Price watches you, the way your eyes dart around the room again, the sour edge of your scent gone, but the tang of anxiety remains. You’ve relaxed some, though, your shoulders are not quite so tense and you’ve stopped picking at your nails. 

Ghost has remained silent the entire time you’ve spoken, eyes glued on you. You’ve tried not to look at him, finding your words get stuck in your throat whenever you meet his gaze. 

He’s going to be a problem. 

“There’s some rules we need to go over before anything else.” Price says. “You have freedom to roam this building as you please, but one of us will escort you if you need to go elsewhere at least until you’ve been marked. There’s other alphas on this base and I don’t want them getting any ideas.” 

You knew well enough omegas frequented the barracks on bases often. You don’t want to be mistaken as one. Even with their scents on you, you know that won’t stop some. You’re not even sure a mark will stop them either. 

“I want full transparency. If something happens you come to me, or you call Kate if we’re gone. If you need anything too, the same order stands.” You’re beginning to detect the edge to his voice, The Captain slipping through his more casual demeanor. “We have some downtime to adjust for now, but sometimes we may leave for weeks at a time. It will be rough, I won’t lie to you, but Kate pulled some strings and there’s an Omega Specialist that’s been brought in for you. You’ll meet her later, I’m sure she wants to do a full workup.” 

You’ve met many Omega Specialists in your time. The beta medical professionals that go through specialized training so they can assist and treat omegas better than regular doctors and medics. Most of them go through a residency at Institutes, studying and practicing on young omegas. The thought of having at least someone who might understand you on a deeper level is comforting. 

“I’m starving, let’s get the scenting over with.” Soap nearly whines, rubbing his stomach. 

His words strike a chord of nervous energy in you again. You had been prepared many times for the scenting. You’d seen instructional videos and done mock practices with your fellow omegas. Yet you feel like it’s not going to be enough. These were real alphas and betas, your pack. What if you don’t like the way they smell? 

What if they don’t like the way you smell? 

“If you’re alright with it?” Price says, looking at you. 

You’re taken aback by the offer for consent. You weren’t expecting it, as this was something you have to do. What would happen if you said no? Would they respect your boundaries? The fact you had been asked at all is shocking to you. You won’t say no, because you’ll have to do it eventually, and at least this way you’ll be walking around smelling like them. If nothing else, it might make this transition a bit easier. 

“Yeah.” You nod, swallowing down your nerves. “I’m okay with it.” 

All five of you stand from the table, your stomach churning with nervous energy. You try to clear your head, try to calm yourself so you don’t stink them out with your anxiety. You need your scent to be clear, to be as tantalizing as possible. 

“Don’t look so worried, lass.” Soap says as they gather around you. “We won’t bite.” He winks at you playfully. 

Your cheeks warm as Price steps up to you. He is right, that would come later. Likely during your first heat when Price would give you his mark and claim you as his. It wasn’t unusual for packs with multiple alphas to let more than one claim an omega, but judging from what you’ve seen of Ghost, you’re not sure that’s going to happen. 

He had a right to claim you too, but from the look of it, he was the least excited about your joining their pack. 

You tense as Price’s hands settle on your waist, lifting you up so you’re seated on the edge of the table, putting you closer to being eye-to-eye with them. They’re all so big, the natural consequence of genetics and their jobs. 

“Ready?” 

You turn to look up at Price, close enough you can see the freckles on his nose and the grey in his blue eyes. You nod, pressing your hands into the table as you bare your neck for him. Your heart is fluttering in your chest as he leans in closer, pressing his face against your neck. His beard tickles your skin as he rubs his face against your scent gland, warm breaths fanning against your skin. 

He pulls away just slightly, baring his own neck to you. You press forward, gripping the edge of the table as you press your face against his throat. You catch the scents you had picked up on his shirt in your room, the surface level scents that were environmental. You close your eyes, inhaling deeper. Woody. Pine? Spruce? It reminds you of a candle your mother used to burn. There’s another scent, the one that lingers. Petrichor, you think, rubbing your face against his scent gland. 

His hand on your side pulls you back from your scent-induced haze, and you force yourself back from him. You take deep breaths of the sterile air in the meeting room, picking up his scent more clearly now as it mixes with the others. 

“Good girl.” He says, squeezing your side gently. Something flutters in your stomach at his praise, some deep primal part of your brain preening at the thought of making your alpha proud. “Ghost.” He says, stepping back from you. 

You’re snapped back into reality as the hulking alpha steps up towards you, moving almost silently. You try to keep yourself calm as he stalks towards you, his sharp gaze burning into yours. 

He’s testing you. 

You won’t satisfy him, holding his gaze as he reaches you, his thighs pressing against your knees. One hand comes to rest next to your hip on the table, his body leaning in towards you. You’re enveloped by the black fabric of his sweatshirt as his other hand reaches up to tug his balaclava up. Stubble tickles your skin as he presses his face against your throat, breathing in deeply. He lets out a quiet sound as he scents you, almost akin to a growl. 

He shifts his weight, pressing his uncovered scent gland against your face. You close your eyes, inhaling deeply. Gunpowder and metal stings your nose again, along with the scent of his body wash. You press deeper into his throat, seeking out his natural scent. Something deep and musky washes over you, like suede or leather. There’s something fresh in there too, almost like eucalyptus. You press your face closer, inhaling it deeply. Your head spins, and you’re sure your knees would have given out if you hadn’t been sitting. 

Something rumbles in Ghost's chest as you scent him in a daze. While all alphas’ scents carried a natural musk, Ghosts seems to shoot directly to some deep part of your brain even Price’s scent hadn’t reached. 

You let out a quiet whine as he’s pulled from you, his mask back in place by the time you pry your eyes open. Ghost is leaning back against the wall, eyes back to their icy stare as he watches you. Your head is still spinning as someone steps up next to you, taking Ghost’s place. 

“How ya doing?” Gaz asks, eyes assessing you. “Hanging in there?” 

You nod, taking a couple deep breaths to try and clear your head. 

“You’re halfway there.” He says, leaning in closer. “Got through the hard part.” 

His breath fans your neck as he leans in, the familiar scent of beta flooding your senses. He was likely doing it on purpose, trying to calm you after the intensity of being scented by two alphas. You breathe in the almondy scent, relaxing into him as he scents you. Your hands raise, gripping his shoulders as he presses his neck close to your face. You seek out the source of the calming scent, pressing your nose into his scent gland. 

You’re drawn from the room and to the time your family took a trip to the beach when your father was stationed in North Carolina. Salty sea air, briney and clean, and something else, something soft. Like the clean linen scented spray your mother used on the laundry. You’re clinging to him, his arms around you as you relax into his scent. The tingling energy that had begun to build up at the proximity to the alphas fades as you melt into the calming energy of the beta in front of you. 

“Easy.” He says, his hand on the back of your head as he pulls you away from him. You take a deep breath, trying to clear your head. “Still with us?” He asks, meeting your gaze. 

“Yeah.” You say, sounding breathless. You knew scenting could be intense, but you hadn’t expected it to feel quite like this. 

“Almost done, hen.” Soap says, taking Gaz’s place in front of you. “Lucky there’s only four of us.”

He’s right, you think as you bear your throat for him. You’re not sure you could have handled it had there been more of them. You already feel like you’re floating, enveloped in so many scents you’re not sure what to do. That tingling has begun at the back of your neck as Soap scents you, your eyes meeting Ghost’s. The look in them has changed, his body poised like he’s ready to strike at a moment’s notice. 

Soap pulls back, blocking your view of him as he bears his throat to you. You press your face into his neck, pushing past the scents you knew, and that beta scent, looking for him. 

You inhale deeply, the scent of warm spices invading your nose. It smells like the holidays, cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger enveloping you. You can almost taste the apple pie, see the gingerbread houses. You cling to his shirt, holding him against you as you rub your face against his throat. 

You’re trembling just slightly as Soap withdraws from your hold. It’s subtle, but to them, highly aware soldiers, it’s likely clear as day. Your skin is buzzing, like the fluorescent lights above you. You can hear it now, the buzz of electricity. Your pupils are blown, the room suddenly clearer and sharper. 

“There she is.” The low grumble of Price’s voice begins to pull you from your heightened state, your eyes turning to him as his hand cups your cheek. 

You press into the rough palm of his hand, eyes picking up the grey in his beard and hair as he stands in front of you. He’s older than you, they’re all older than you. Older than you, bigger than you, stronger than you. A small tickle of fear begins to itch in the back of your mind, drawing you from your daze. 

You’re vulnerable, entirely vulnerable and incapable of defending yourself against them. Forgetting second genders, they’re all much stronger than you, not to mention trained fighters. You’d be fucked if they decided to try anything, if they wanted to do anything. You’d be entirely helpless against them. 

They could if they wanted to. 

It would be well within their rights. Even though you had just met, even though you bore no claiming mark, there was nothing stopping them. You couldn’t stop them, and no one would help you. 

“You hungry, pup?” 

Price’s voice cuts through your fearful daze. There’s a slight furrow to his brow, likely picking up the sharp edge seeping into your scent. Omega fear and distress was the one defense nature gave to your kind, aside from the omega itself. It’s a putrid scent meant to ward off alphas and betas. You’ve heard it described as smelling like sulfur, burning coals, gasoline, melting plastic, and sometimes even the ozonic scent that accompanied alphas in a true rage. It was a warning, but it doesn't always work. 

Pup. Price called you Pup. 

You haven’t been called “pup” since you were a pup. It’s a commonly used nickname for any status. You remember your father calling your older brothers pup, even after they presented. It could be derogatory, but it’s more commonly used affectionately. He’s trying to ease your discomfort, the fear welling up inside you. 

The door is open, the fresh air of the hallway watering down the heavy mix of scents that had become trapped in the room. Soap and Gaz have already stepped out, Ghosts hulking figure blocking the doorway for a moment as he follows them, leaving you alone with Price for a moment. 

“Alright?” Price asks as your gaze meets his again. 

You nod, still leaning into his touch. “Yeah, ‘s a lot.” 

“I know.” His thumb strokes your cheek, a knowing glint in his eyes. He leans in closer, lowering his voice. “Don’t tell him I told you this, but Soap nearly passed out when we scented him.” 

You cover your mouth to stifle your giggle. It wasn’t unusual for scentings to become so intense that the receiver passes out. You’re sure if there had been more than four in your new pack you would have passed out. 

“Come on.” He says, wrapping an arm around your waist to lift you off the table and onto unsteady legs. He doesn’t even grunt with the effort, moving you easily. The thought sends a shiver down your spine, but it’s not entirely one of fear. 

His hand is warm on your back as he leads you out of the room, the clean air in the hallway clearing your head further. Most bases have circulating air systems, constantly filtering out scents to keep things as neutral as possible. They’re less effective in smaller areas though, especially after scents were intentionally projected. Most military members wore scent blockers, at least while performing their duties. You remember your father coming home at the end of the day with the dull burn of scent blocker still on his clothes. 

Your head is still spinning a bit as you follow them out of the barracks and towards the mess hall. They seem to almost walk in a formation, though you suppose with years of having it drilled in your head, it’s almost second nature. You’re sandwiched between Soap and Gaz in the middle, Price in front and Ghost bringing up the rear. 

The other personnel on the base give your group a wide berth, and even in the mess you can feel the glances, but none of the stares linger. Price guides you next to him as you get your food, adding things to your tray for you. That tickling feeling starts again at the back of your neck as he makes your plate, your omega preening happily at the knowledge of what he’s doing. 

He’s proving his ability as a provider. 

In more primordial times he might have gone out and hunted for food to bring back to you to prove his capabilities. Even in more modern times, he might have hunted as some alphas still did, or he would have gone to the store to keep the fridge stocked full of food. Alphas are good at adapting to their surroundings and situations. He’s proving his capabilities in the way he can. 

You’re also silently grateful to not have to think too hard about the choices in front of you. Even after a week, British food is still a bit unfamiliar to you. It’s not entirely indiscernible, though, and you’re sure you could pick out things that sounded good if you had to. At this moment, though, with your head still reeling a bit and the unsettling energy of a new place filled with unknown alphas and betas, you’re happy to let Price do it for you. 

He carries your tray and his to a table, sitting you next to him. Gaz takes your other side, Soap and Ghost sitting across from you. The choices in their seating arrangement don’t feel quite so random to you, and you quickly realize the arrangement is similar to the room setup in the barracks. 

A beta for each alpha, you think. Gaz and Price. Soap and Ghost. 

Then there’s you, stuck somewhere in the middle of them. Somehow you’ll fit between them, squeezing into their perfect dynamic. Omegas are supposed to help balance packs, but as you sit with the four members of your new pack, you can’t help but feel like you’re only going to make things more difficult. 

NEXT ->

I'm willing to put together a taglist if people are interested...

[princessbellecerise]

First Impressions

Summary ✩ If you want to make a good impression on your boyfriend’s family, then you probably shouldn’t get caught naked together

Warnings ✩ Smut, college!jace, Jace likes slow passionate sex I don’t make the rules, so many innuendos, Jace and the reader literally get caught by his whole family, humor, lowkey a crack fic

“But what if they don’t like me?”

“Babe, relax. They’ll love you.”

Jace stroked your arm lovingly as you sat on his dorm room bed, nerves and anxiety nearly eating you alive.

You were in the middle of finals, and not only that, Jace’s family had decided to come up for the weekend and visit him before winter vacation.

Every year, he usually travelled back overseas to be with them, but this year his family decided to stay in the United States and celebrate the holidays over here.

As his girlfriend, you were understandably worried because it meant that you’d be meeting them for the first time. Jace tried to reassure you that your fears didn’t matter, and that they’d love you despite what you thought, but you simply weren’t convinced.

“But what if they hate me?” You continued, chewing on your lip as you looked at him. “What if…what if they think I’m too…American or something?”

“What? Too American?” Jace snorted. “What does that even mean?” You groaned.

“It means they might hate me, or my accent, and they might try and set you up with a British girl or something, I don’t know.”

To your displeasure, Jacaerys merely laughed which made you pout.

“Jace! This is serious!” You whined at him, smacking his arm playfully. He shook his head.

“Like I said, they will love you and they will be very excited to see you. Especially my mother. She’s been dying to meet you ever since I told her about you.”

“But—!”

“No buts! Everything will be fine,” Jacaerys cooed, and you sighed as you buried your head in his chest.

“I hope you’re right,” You mumbled miserably, not wanting to even think about him being wrong. You loved Jace so much, and you couldn’t imagine not being accepted by the ones he loved the most. No matter how many times he reassured you that they would, the thought still terrified you to your core.

“Of course I am,” Jacaerys leaned his head down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, wrapping his arms around you as he did. “How could anyone not love you? You’re perfect.”

Quickly, a small rush of embarrassment flooded to your cheeks but luckily it was hidden.

“You really think so?” You mumbled again, and this time you felt Jace pulling you away from his chest so that you could look him in the eye.

Two pools of warm honey held nothing but confidence and reassurance as he nodded. “Of course,” Jace confirmed sweetly, and then he sealed his promise with a kiss.

Smiling, you welcomed his lips and relaxed as your fears began to melt away. As always, Jace had a habit of being able to calm you with the slightest touch, and now as you felt his plump lips against yours, your worries evaporated.

It was like magic how you could be so worked up one minute, and then completely like putty in his arms in the next. Forgetting your anxiety, you deepened the kiss with Jace and panted as you felt his hands roam over your body.

“Shouldn’t we…shouldn’t we be getting ready?” You asked him quietly, pulling away as you felt him hardening underneath you.

“We’ve still got,” Jace picked up his phone and tapped on the screen, grinning when it read 5:52pm. “Two hours until dinner, I think? That’s plenty of time.”

You grinned back and sank into another kiss, this time bringing your hands up to tangle in his curls. They were soft against your fingertips; a weapon you used to render your boyfriend defenseless as you crawled on top of him.

Moaning, Jace held your hips as you began to grind them, feeling the way his cock got hard as you did so. Jace’s hockey hoodie and your thin sleep shorts left minimum barriers between the two of you, but still, it was too much.

You needed to feel him as desire pooled in between your legs, a little wet spot forming on the crotch of your shorts.

“Jace. Help me take this off,” You said against his lips, and Jace, all too eager, obeyed.

You felt his strong hands tug on the band of your shorts, pulling them off and throwing them across the room. Then, Jace reached for the hoodie and pulled it up just enough to expose your tits, but he kept it on you because he loved the way you looked in it.

“Fuck you’re gorgeous,” Jacaerys groaned, leaning up to suck on one of your buds as you continued rocking against him.

The feeling of his soft tongue made your core clench with anticipation, throwing your head back as you panted. You weren’t really in a rush, so Jace took his time; sucking and biting and licking your flesh as he pleased.

Already, you could feel the marks on your skin forming, and you lightly pushed his chest to get him to stop.

“Don’t give me a hickey right before I meet your family,” You warned, but the damage was done and Jace was quite proud as he admired his work.

“Oops.” Your boyfriend smirked up at you, and then you squealed as he flipped you around. Now, your back was against his chest and Jace propped your hips up so that your ass was in the air.

You could feel him begin to grind against you now, pressing his hard cock against your body as his kissed his way down it.

He started with your neck, nipping at your sweet spots before eventually going lower. Jace pushed the hoodie up so he could kiss along your spine, leaving little marks wherever he pleased. While he did that, you shivered as his hands occupied themselves with your cunt, teasing your wet folds and ghosting over your clit.

“Jace,” You whined in the pillow, desperate for more friction as you wiggled against him. You were burning up, aching for his touch; and luckily your boyfriend wasn’t a cruel man.

“I’ve got you, Princess. Don’t worry,” He cooed softly. You felt the bed dip as he moved in between your thighs, placing a delicate kiss to each before going where you needed him most.

“God…” You moaned, biting the pillow as Jace’s lips attached to your cunt, tongue darting out to taste you.

He went slow at first, dipping his tongue in between your folds and circling your entrance. You whined as Jace pushed in, tongue-fucking you while his fingers came to play with your clit. His other hand occupied itself with steadying your trembling hips, keeping your cunt firmly pressed against his face as he messily ate you out from behind.

“Fuck, fuck! Jace!”

His name fell from your lips like a chant, your thighs shaking as your orgasm approached. If you could, you would’ve tugged on his curls but you had to settle for gripping the bedsheets as you made a mess on his tongue.

To Jace, you tasted so sweet that he just couldn’t help but to lap it all up; face getting drenched with the evidence of your arousal. He reached out to message your trembling thighs, placing little kisses on them before turning you over.

As he did, you couldn’t help but think how hot your boyfriend looked after eating you out. His face was glistening with your cum, his pupils blown and eager for more.

He couldn’t get the condom on fast enough, and you nearly started drooling when he teased his swollen cock head in between your folds.

You were still sensitive by the time he started to push in, but you welcomed his cock and eagerly held his body close to yours. As always, Jace held your hand and let out a shaky breath as he entered you. With his forehead pressed to yours, he gazed into your eyes and sank into your cunt until there was nothing left for him to give.

“Fuck!”

The two of you moaned in unison as he bottomed out, Jace trembling above you as your warm cunt squeezed him. He leaned down to capture your lips in a long, deep kiss, loving to make out with you while he fucked you.

It was one thing to be inside of you, but with Jace, he always felt the need to be consumed by you, taking you in every way he could think of. His lips upon yours, his hands holding yours, his cock deep inside of you.

The closeness, the sheer intimacy of it all always drove your boyfriend crazy, as he wanted to think of and feel nothing but expect for you. No matter what, Jace always poured everything he had into you—every bit of love, want, desire.

You could feel it in the way he moved his hips, desperately chasing the high only you could bring him to. You spread yourself eagerly below him, taking, wanting, craving for the same things.

Together, you held one another as your bodies moved in sync, giving and taking and fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle.

Jace’s cock began to tighten as he neared his release. Likewise, your core clenched, your head becoming fuzzy as he brushed against your sweet spot over and over again. Just as you pulled away from his kiss, your own lips—plump and swollen—let out a gasp as you came around him. All that you could see, all you taste and feel was Jacaerys as pleasure completely took over your senses.

And then, not even a second later Jace was collapsing as well, panting as he spilled himself into the condom.

You had the pleasure of hearing his sweet sounds as he did, rubbing his back and his ass gently to coax him. By the time he was finished, the condom was filled to the brim and Jace pulled it off, lazily tying it up and throwing it in the trashcan.

Pink puffy lips, bruised from kissing you and biting them so hard when he came, once again ghosted over your skin, Jace leaving a kiss on your forehead before collapsing beside you.

“I love you,” Your boyfriend said gently, taking your face into his hands. Soft cheek pressed against soft cheek as you curled into one another, still panting and glowing and smiling from your highs.

“I love you too,” You giggled as he squeezed your cheeks, pressing them together so your lips jutted out like a fish. “I lobe you, I lobe you, I lobe you, I lobe you—”

Jace laughed at your disordered speech, just about to comment on it when suddenly the door flung open, and Cregan Stark stood with his entire family behind him as he grinned.

“Surprise!”

“What the—?”

The smile on your lips died as you froze in shock, eyes coming to settle on the plethora of people that filed into the room.

They hadn’t noticed it yet, not until it was too late. There were six people in total, all too busy grinning with anticipation and chattering excitedly until they noticed exactly what they had stumbled upon—a very naked Jacaerys and his girlfriend.

“Oh,” Rhaena, who you had seen before in FaceTime calls and followed on Instagram, was the first to notice your predicament. Their eyes widened when they looked at Jace, stuttering but not able to warn anyone in time. “I…”

“Oh shit!”

“Are they—?”

“Dude!”

Jace was much faster than you to react; shouting at Cregan and telling him to close the door while his roommate stood there in shock.

Behind him, you could hear laughter and horrified shouts as Jace’s family looked at the scene; his step-sister Baela cracking up while who you presumed was his mother gasped.

“Jacaerys—” The white haired woman blinked, dumbfounded, and of course you would have the absolute unfortunace of locking eyes with her right before Jace exclaimed,

“Mom! Get out!”

The door slammed shut just as Jace began to scurry up, his face a violent shade of red as you blinked. In that moment, you couldn’t tell if you wanted to scream or just straight up die as you looked at Jace, horrified as you covered your naked body.

“I didn’t…I didn’t know…” He rapidly shook his head, trying to explain but you could obviously tell he wasn’t expecting his family to come here.

You were supposed to meet them at the restaurant at seven, and you still thought you had time to get yourself presentable.

You wanted to make a good first impression on the people who would hopefully be your future in laws, but now though, there was no such luck. His whole family had seen you naked, and now you had no fucking clue how you’d ever leave this room without wanting the ground to swallow you up.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. What are we going to do?” You asked, panicked as Jace paced around the room. “Your mother—Jace, your mom just saw my fucking pussy!”

“Or maybe she didn’t,” Jace countered, trying to delude himself and you into thinking the situation wasn’t that bad. It didn’t work. “Maybe they…maybe they only saw us in the covers, but didn’t see anything else.”

“Yeah right,” You scoffed, knowing damn well that wasn’t the case. “I’m pretty sure they’ve seen more of me than you ever have!”

“Shit!”

Jace ran a hand through his curls as commotion sounded outside. Cregan panicking and Baela laughing and Luke so horrified all he could do was stare at the wall.

They were all waiting out there to meet you but, “I can’t ever show my face again,” You wailed. “I was right. They’re gonna hate me and think I’m a slut and they’re never gonna want to see me again!”

“That’s not true,” Jace insisted, shaking his head. “Babe, they would never think that about you.”

“Yeah! We’d never—” Rhaena’s voice became muffled as Rhaenyra scolded them, but the fact that they could hear what you were saying just made you want to die even more.

“Jesus Christ. Is there no end to the embarrassment?” You groaned, flopping on Jace’s bed. You buried your face into the pillow while Jace rubbed circles on your back, torn between comforting you and yelling at Rhaena to fuck off.

“It’s alright. It’ll be alright,” Your boyfriend said awkwardly. “The best thing that we can do is to just go out there, and forget this ever happened, yeah? I’m sure after a few drinks no one will even remember this.”

Which might’ve been true, if half his family wasn’t under 21 and couldn’t drink in the USA.

You groaned. “Ihatemylife.”

“What?”

“I said I hate my life,” You pouted at Jace, pulling your face from the covers. “Only something like this could happen to me.” But eventually, you agreed to just bite the bullet.

You knew you couldn’t hide forever, and as much you wanted to, you couldn’t avoid the six people standing outside waiting for you and Jace either.

No matter how undignified you felt, you still got ready and you took a deep breath as Jace grabbed your hand.

“Let’s go meet them properly this time, shall we?”

—

“So how’s the bed—I mean, the bread! Sorry!” Luke blushed deeply while you sank into your seat, utterly mortified while Jace tensed beside you.

He still had yet to relax even though the incident had happened hours ago, and his family was graceful enough not to mention it save for a few accidental innuendos and stray giggles as they recalled the moment.

Cregan, who was also invited along, hadn’t stopped sending either of you apologetic looks since it was his idea to bring them to surprise Jace.

The poor guy had a wanted to do a nice thing for his best friend and ended up humiliating him in the process.

But you were so embarrassed you didn’t even care, not being able to even look at Luke while you answered.

“It’s good,” You told him meekly, even though it was obvious you had barely touched it. “A little hard, but...”

Daemon snickered as you suddenly stopped, stomach dropping when you realized you said. “I-I mean…I didn’t…”

“Babe,” Jace gave you look as he squeezed your hand under the table, shooting his step father an angry glare. “He knows what you meant. Right, Luke?”

“Yeah.” The sophomore in high school didn’t say anything else as he picked at his appetizer.

You sighed.

Quite frankly, it was awkward all around, making you feel like you should have just stayed in your dorm room.

What was supposed to be a normal family dinner was now overshadowed by the incident, and you felt like no matter what you did, something brought it up.

The last thing you wanted to do was make a bad first impression, and you had made an impression alright.

You cleared your throat. “So how was the flight?” You asked no one in particular, desperately wanting to change the subject. You didn’t think you’d survive another minute of this if not, but thankfully Rhaena ended up being the one who answered you.

“It was boring. Kind of long, actually,” They shrugged. And then they added, “T-The flight, I mean,” which only made the situation worse.

Baela shook her head. “I don’t know. It was kind of short to me,” She grinned, laughing when Jace glared and kicked her under the table.

“Baela!” Rhaenyra scolded her, shaking her head. Like you, the woman seemed to be at her wits end with how much more she could take.

It was embarrassing enough for you to experience it, but you couldn’t imagine catching your own son naked. Rhaenyra was probably the only one more mortified than you and Jace, and so she was a bit more sympathetic than the rest of her family.

“That’s enough. Stop torturing the poor girl, will you?”She warned. “Y/N, honey, I’m so sorry,” She then said gently, and you gave her a tight smile, hating yourself for not ordering a stronger drink.

Thankfully though, you were saved by the waitress coming around. You and Jace let out a sigh of relief as the food momentarily distracted everybody. Baela stopped smirking, eyeing her spaghetti with joy. Daemon no longer stared at you accusingly, just waiting to for the chance to jump in and embarrass Jace. Eveything seemed fine again; that is until she set Jace’s entree down.

“And here is that shrimp for you, sir,” She smiled at him politely, and you could see Cregan absolutely loosing it as he stood up.

“Fuck—I’m sorry man. I can’t, I just…” He crackled all the way to the bathroom, his laugher echoing through the whole restaurant. A few people stared at him as he passed, but the waitress didn’t seem too bothered by it.

She turned to Rhaenyra, handing her a red drink and said, “And here is that cocktail for you.”

Rhaenyra stared at the drink, not even knowing what to say as her children burst into giggles. Not even Daemon could hold himself back, laughing into his wine while Jace laid his head on the table.

“Is there anything else I can get for you all?” The waitress asked, chewing her lip at the scene. She obviously didn’t understand what was going on or why everything she said was so funny.

“A gun,” Jace whispered from beside you, catching her attention. His red face was as buried into his arms due to permanent shame. “I would like for you to bring me a gun, please.”

“Excuse me?” Your waitress reeled back, her eyes going wide at Jace’s words. The tray she carried momentarily shook in her hands, and—not wanting for her to call the police and make this an even worse situation—you quickly stepped in.

“I-I think he means that we’re all satisfied, thank you,” You told her weakly.

Your whole body burned from shame and embarrassment, and you were surprised that you didn’t catch on fire right then and there. You certainly wished you would, as it would save you from the absolute worst dinner of your life.

The woman nodded slowly. “Alright then. Enjoy,” She said cautiously.

And then, without missing a beat, Baela looked straight at you and giggled. “Oh, I’m sure she did.”

[trashmouth-richie]

𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞 — eddie x fem reader (7.1k)

summary: 2011– your roommate drags you to a frat party and ditches the second she sees the guy she’s been fucking. left by yourself, you meet someone by accident, someone who isn’t in the fraternity 

warnings: smut, underage drinking, p in v, unprotected sex, grinding, dancing, eddie is trying to be cocky but he’s just awkward and silly

notes: i had a blast deep diving back into my hs and college days to reminisce with this. i hope if you were growing up during this time you can giggle along with me. love youuu oooh! also i hid some easter eggs in here (they’re not hidden at all)

The basement was steamy, and not in a ‘oh it’s a little warm in here but more like, every single person is drunk off their ass and the walls are sweating’kind of way.

College was everything you’d hoped it to be and more.

Your roommate, Kenzie was the type of girl who had an ‘open closet’ policy letting you wear her clothes almost more than your own. You weren’t too keen on sharing a dorm room with a girl you’ve never met before, but thankfully—you had gotten lucky. 

You had heard the horror stories from your older sister about her terrible roommate freshman year and you worried for most of the summer that you’d strike the same type of fortune. It wasn’t until you got a friend request on Facebook and a cheery little message : 

[Kenzie Walmen 2:07 PM: heyyyy roomie (;] 

that you knew you had nothing to worry about. 

She was from the west coast in sunny California, that bright western sky seeped deep into her personality. Kenz was sun kissed and bright haired, pretty ocean dipped eyes to give her the All-American type of aesthetic that most girls wished for. And maybe it was her laid back disposition, or her thrill for living it up and every hour of the day— that landed you here tonight at Delta Kappa Sigma. 

It wasn’t your scene.

You weren’t shy or new to getting drunk, you had even been so brave to take the occasional hit from a homemade bong in your neighbors dorm a few times, but the frat parties were known for their out of control Project X style of getting shitfaced. 

And something about guys with too much testosterone and too much Adidas cologne made your skin crawl and not in a good way. 

“Prints always look weird on me,” you grumble into the mirror eyeing your curves in a leopard lace tank top and black skirt, “is it too much?” 

Kenzie adjusts her off-the-shoulder top, adding a bit of shimmer powder to her exposed shoulder, “absolutely not, if anything it’s not enough.” Neon feathers decorate her bouncy curled hair as she eyes you in the mirror, “add that silver chunky necklace, and you’ll look bomb.” 

She was right, the necklace really pulled the entire look together, and if it were Halloween weekend you could even pass as a Spice Girl or maybe Snookie. 

“Sooo, is Steve gonna be there tonight?” You ask elongating the vowels in the aforementioned name, followed by some kissy faces and porn worthy moans. 

Kenzie rolls her eyes, a dusting of pink warming her cheeks, “yeah… about that. He said he has a “surprise” for me when I get there, so if I disappear, I’m just with him, okay?” 

“Wait wait wait—” you protest, holding a death grip clutch on a bottle of UV blue. “We aren’t even at the party yet and you’re already planning on ditching me?” 

— 

And that’s what got you here, a little more than drunk, holding a piss warm Green apple flavored Four Loko to your mouth, leaning against the corner basement wall in hopes to maybe disappear, wishing you were anywhere but in this cesspool of basement. 

The “DJ” (a frat guy wearing neon glasses with bars across them, scrolling through an ipod and a playlist more than likely named ‘Get Crunk’) was playing Kid Cudi, again. Everyone was screaming along to the chorus like he personally wrote it for them and their experience at college. A headache was brewing behind your eyes as the beat thumped loudly into your chest and radiated to your temples. 

Kenzie left almost immediately upon arriving. Swooped up and tossed over the broad shoulder of Steve the minute he answered the door. You laughed and shook your head, imagining how she was probably face down in navy cum stained sheets by now. 

The hours she spent on her hair and makeup went to waste, only being seen by the dead catalog eyes of Playboy’s finest from their pinned positions on the walls of Steve’s shared bedroom. 

Another sip from the overly carbonated beverage has you shuddering, the fiery ripple of fruit flavored [vomit] alcohol scouring through you like lava, causing your face to screw into a disgusted look.

How can people drink this shit? 

Your bladder screams at you to break the seal, demanding to find relief, immediately. The black lights were zero help in disguising if there were any doors that might lead into a bathroom. Pushing from the wall and taking the last hot sip from your drink, you navigate your way to the stairs. 

A table holding lone solo cups in formation from a forgotten beer pong game is now the proud owner of your empty can.

Weaving through the jungle of fist pumping douchelords and tipsy sorority girls making out for risqué facebook pics labeled [*~Freshman Y3ar!~*] you finally emerge from the sweaty pits of fraternity hell and climb the beer stained steps to the main floor. 

The monotonous beat from the music thumped a little less loudly up here, as if the noise was absorbed by the maroon colored carpeting and the oak cabinets in the foyer. 

The house was dated, decorated with a clash of orangey dark wood mixed with emeralds, dark reds and gold. As if this house was based out of Tuscany instead of midwest nowhere— complete with the rubbery fake fruit and vines that stood solely to collect dust. 

You had never been here before and didn’t know where in the hell to start looking to find the bathroom, and like Alice, you figured you might as well try every door knob in this type of Wonderland. 

The first door you peeked into looked like it was a formal dining room, but instead sat a television on the great oval table blasting obnoxiously loud as a pornstar moaned ripples of “pleasure” through her pink pout. Above her was an extremely tanned guy rocking a set of hard abs, thrusting in a slow rhythm that didn’t match her orgasm. 

A snicker slips from your lips and you gently pull the door closed with a small click, loud whoops and whistling from what you could only assume were a couple of frat guys erupt behind the door.

Watching porn together. 

You’ll have to add that to your growing list of things you didn’t know about the brotherhood behind a fraternity. 

The second door looked more hopeful as it was adjacent to the kitchen area. Upon nearly peeing down your leg, you were shocked stupid when you yanked the door open to find a closet housed with cleaning supplies. 

What the fuck? 

How could a frat house not have a bathroom? 

Your bladder squeezed in on itself and you were certain you couldn’t hold it any longer. Just short of giving up on this quest of relief and going back to your dorm, a gaggle of girls run down the steps leading to the top floor, where you could only assume the bedrooms were. 

“…why are frat bathrooms always so fucking dirty?!” 

Bingo.

Hustling up the never ending carpeted stairs, your bladder was on the brink of exploding as you shoved past a wooden door with a paper sign that read, “no jerking off in the shower!! pipes are clogged!” 

Your sandals clapped along the sea foam tiles floors as you slipped into one of the many metal stall doors. With a swift hike of your skirt up to your middle and pull of your panties, you were finally able to pee. 

A choir of angels sang the HallelujahHallelejuah chorus as you went and you sighed in relief that you had made it. 

“..yeah yeah, okay asshole,” a loud voice sounded from just outside the bathroom door frame, “you still owe me from last time,” the voice now echoed as it hit against the tiles and cement block walls, “no, payment is cold hard cash buddy, I don’t care if you have to dip into your trust fund.”  

A pair of black docs stomp into the tiled bathroom, nearing the stall you were in. There's no way he’ll come to this stall. 

“Tell daddy that you need more money for polos or Jordan’s— I really don’t give a fuck, but you need to pay the fuck up.” 

But as fate would have it…and in your hurry to get to the toilet before pissing all over yourself… and forgetting to lock the door in your haste… the stall door swings wide open— revealing a very bottomless you, to a pair of very wide dark, deer-in-the-headlight eyes. 

A beat that feels like an eternity passes, his hand is choked against his belt in a yank to unthread it, his phone wedged between his shoulder and ear. Your hands fly to cover yourself the best you can, panties still at your ankles, skirt still around your midsection. 

It’s all yells and screams with this random guy stumbling over himself dropping his phone on the ground and spewing, “Shit! Sorry! Sorry!” and you yelling for him to shut the fucking door already. 

His apologies don’t stop as he pulls the door closed, and from the other side of it as you pull up your underwear and adjust your skirt. 

“I swear! I didn’t think anyone was in there! I promise!” 

Your face burns in embarrassment as you contemplate melting into the floor and becoming one with the poorly aimed piss stains and the dirty grout. As good as that sounds you still have to leave, you still have to pass the guy who just saw your bare vag and you still have to navigate your way out of here. 

His phone lays face down on the floor, and you pray it isn’t broken for his sake. You pick it up, flipping it over to see that it scathed by with just a fine crack from one corner to another. His screen saver is a picture of a group of guys in a skatepark in the dark, smoke billowing thickly to cover their faces as they stand on the boards, the one with dark longer hair is shirtless, and painted with tattoos. 

“Shit,” you breathe quietly, “your phone is cracked.” 

You can see the shadows of his feet pacing back and forth but when you speak they stop, “oh..,” he mumbles, clearing his throat a bit, “umm, yeah, no biggie it was broke like that already.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah— hey, if you wanna slide that under the door I can um, let you ..ahem.. finish up in there.” 

Shit. Duh he needed his phone, and you were just holding it hostage in here as your shame hung thickly in the air. God this might really couldn’t get any fucking worse.

A deep breath in through your nose, you fake a mask of confidence and open the stall door. 

You hadn’t gotten a good look at him when he barged in on you, but now in the fluorescent dust covered light you dared to look a little longer at him. 

Long locks of honeyed brown locks fell onto the tops of his shoulders, covered with a green plaid flannel that hung open showing his neck and a flick of dark lines from a tattoo hidden under a black band tank top. His eyes were just as brown, round and flocked with a grove of thick lashes. Clearly he was the shirtless one in his background picture. 

He smiled sheepishly, pulling his jaw taunt as he averted his gaze to the toe of his boots, noticing your hand stretched out before him to give him back his phone, he glanced at your face, skimming his hand over your palm.

“Thanks— uh…” he started, shifting his weight to lean back against the many rows of sinks, “sorry again, I promise I don’t normally walk in on ladies using the facilities.” 

His eyes met yours and you instantly felt a heat run to your throat, his lips were impossibly plump as he drew them into a tight smirk. 

Fuck are those dimples? Of course they were. God he’s so pretty. 

You smile, “normal people lock the stall, but I was in a hurry… well I was lost!” you exclaim in a huff, fully hands on hips annoyed, “why the fuck would the bathroom be on the top floor?” 

You asked him incredulously like he should know. But on second thought…

“uhh… I dunno,” he shrugs, sliding his phone into the front pocket of his light wash colored jeans, not even looking at the broken screen as he leaned back again, “I’m not exactly an architect.”  

“But you live here?” you question, turning on the sink to wet your hands, “haven’t they ever thought of putting even a half bath on the main floor?” 

He rumbles out a laugh that makes your cheeks tingle, your buzz still in full force, “nah, you got it all wrong, I’m not a member of the ‘fraternity brotherhood of Alpha Mega Steroid’”, he jokes with air quotes, smiling wide when your lips tick up at the ends. “But I am a frequent guest, of sorts…”

This guy seemed to be one of those people who can make a nun blush, witty and dripping with a sexual charm that radiated from him like a ray of fucking sunshine. And fuck that grin of his. You’re in trouble. 

“Ahh, okay,” you banter back easily, shaking your hands to dry them since there were no paper towels in sight, “which one is your boyfriend? Let’s see I know.. Kyle? I think is his name, reddish hair, kinda feminine hands, or are you fucking Steve because I gotta say, I think my roommate might be giving you a run for your money right now.” 

Eddie’s eyes light up, a quirk in his brow as he asks, “Blonde girl? Kinda naive, head over heels for that mop of perfectly styled hair? Shit, what’s her name…Kelly? Kitten? She’s your roommate?” 

Of course he would know her, Kenzie knows everyone, and seems to leave a kind of impression on people that you envied. As bright as she shined, you were the shadow behind her. 

“Yeah,” you say, not hiding your annoyance, remembering how you got into this predicament in the first place. 

Eddie looks just as pissed as you’re feeling, “Oh, Stevie boy and I will be having words later on his lack of tact. They’re the reason why I was out wondering the halls like a fuckin’ ghost in a haunted mansion.” 

He takes note that you’re in the same boat he’s in but in your case, it’s a little worse, being a girl alone in a frat house never ends well. 

“I’m Eddie, uhh…designated dealer,” he says in almost a whisper, “for the deep pocketed asshoels full of daddy’s money.”

You connect a few dots, realization hitting hard in your frontal lobe from conversations you’ve kind of listened to from Kenzie about Steve. 

“Ahh, okay… now that you mention it, Kenz has talked about you before. You’re Steve’s old friend, Munson? I thought she meant like a forty year old or something.”

He laughs, loud and belly rolling like, “nah, minus a twenty from that. Steve and I are just close friends ‘s all… and no, not boyfriends.” 

You laugh then, all bubbly and light hearted that has his own skipping beats. Saying your name, he repeats it, a little grin on his face that he tries to hide, “mm that’s cute.” 

“Cute?” you question, an eyebrow raised as you fold your arms in on themselves, poking a hip out. 

“Yeah… cute,” he says standing fully and peering down at you, “your name is very fitting for you.” 

You roll your eyes playfully at his flirty words. Even though your stomach is somersaulting at the way his eyes seem to drip from heaven when he looks at you, your cheeks heating beneath his gaze.

“Is this the part where we exchange our hometowns and majors, because I’d rather get run over than do that right now.” 

Eddie chuckles, “oh yeah, well I’m actually here on an athletic scholarship.” 

“Really?” you question, eyebrows cocked in disbelief. 

“Yes!” Eddie jokes back, trying to bite back a smile, “if you must know it’s for Tennis, but please don't bother me for an autograph. I'm just trying to be a normal guy tonight.” 

“Noted.” You giggle, admiring the way this banter is coming so easily, maybe it was the liquid courage taking over or the fact that he was actually fun to talk to— either way, this night is starting to take a turn for the better.

“So, what does a Tennis star/designated rich boy drug dealer usually do at these kinds of things besides bursting in on girls using the bathroom?” 

He smiles, dipping his chin and looking at you through those impossibly thick lashes. Pushing off the sink he asks, “Sell a little here and there, sometimes dip into my own stash…what do you usually do at these things?” 

“Well,” you tease, twisting on the ball of your foot and heading towards the door out to the hallway, “I’m not usually at these things.”

“Ohh my god,” Eddie preens in his best valley girl/ Kourtney Kardashian impression, “you’ve never been to frat party!?” 

You smile, at his stupid joke, “Noo, I haven’t actually. Kenzie drug me out for a little pick me up after we bombed our History midterm, to…y’know— live it up— YOLO, all that.”

“Okay okay, letting off some steam after the stress of class, I get it...school was never a cake walk for me either.” 

“Yeah! But then your friend snatched her up, and since I don’t know anyone here… I was doing a very impressive wall flower guise, until my bladder interrupted that… and then a guy barged in on me in the bathroom.” 

Eddie stalks towards you, his eyes roving over your body, “Well… now you know me, soo Miss Lady Wallflower,” he cracks, “shall we descend to the basement and keep this party going?” 

His infectious smile stretches wide, practically ear to ear and you find yourself grinning just as wide, trying to twist your lips to at least hide your enthusiasm a little bit but goddamn— something about the way those dimples compliment the fucking christmas twinkle in his eyes.. ugh. 

He was trouble. The kind you had always craved but never dabbled in. But when in Rome…

“Lead the way.”

—

Eddie had made a pit stop in the large kitchen before returning to the basement. 

“Now sweetheart,” he purred, fishing around the shelves, of a pantry, moving cans of food and bags of chips, “I didn’t plan on drinking more tonight, but I’m not gonna let you drink by your— aha!” 

Eddie stands upright, brandishing a large box of saltine crackers. Your eyebrows furrow in response and he bows low, puts his hand inside the box, “I present to you, Stevie’s not so secret hiding spot,” pulling out his hand, his fingers are wrapped around a bottle of Burnett’s Vodka.  

Your eyes widen with devilish glee as you smirk, “how did you know it’d be there?” 

Eddie unscrews the cap and puts it to his lips for a long six second pull. 

You weren’t watching the way his throat bobbed and gulped when he swallowed each burning swig. Nope, not at all. You definitely weren’t memorizing each valley of cords and muscles as a single drop fell to his sharp chin and jaw. Never, not you!

And you weren’t holding your breath right along with him only breathing when those fucking glorious thick lips popped clean from the mouth of that bottle… his lips shiny from the bitter alcohol like a gloss you desperately need to lick clean. Yeah… no. that was not you…

So it’s only fitting when he speaks hoarsely and clears his throat that you are snapped back to the moment, your core keeping its own pulse. 

“He’s been keeping vodka in the same box in a food pantry since we were in high school, guy is the most unoriginal bastard I know,” he shrugs, wiping his lips with the back of his hand, and you can’t help but almost pout in the wasted opportunity. 

His eyes meet yours and they look just as hungry as you were feeling. He smirks crookedly and you practically flatline from the depth those molasses colored eyes hold. He moved first, inching towards you like a wolf stalking its prey, your pretty chapstick smile daring him to come closer. 

But the fuse between you is snuffed out cold as a crying girl erupts from the basement steps, her gaggle of friends helping calm her down as they leave the house. 

Eddie shakes his head and clears his throat as if he was just as bothered by you as you were of him. Turning towards the fridge he asks, “I’m sure they’ve got some Sunny D you can chase this with if that’s cool?” 

—

The basement proved to be in the same situation you had left it in: hot, sweaty, sticky. 

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes hotly behind you, loud enough to hear him above the music, “it’s like a furnace down here, no wonder that girl was crying.”

You lead him to the corner you were tucked in before, your drink still sitting on the beer pong table. By the way he is standing you can tell that this really isn’t his scene either, but after a while of passing the vodka and orange juice back and forth between you, he seems to loosen up a bit. His shoulders relax as his back leans against the wall next to you. 

Eddie’s words slurring together as his stories became more and more animated, and you giggle along, never taking your eyes off of him. Completely enamored. 

Your stomach burned with a flurry of butterflies when a few of his clients came up to him to buy, each more nervous than the next. Eyeing you suspiciously, questioning if you were some sort of a narc. 

Eddie stepped ahead of you, his shoulders squared and chest out to casually announce that you were cool and were with him. 

You didn’t know that he was waiting for you to object to it, to shove away from him and call him a pig for even assuming that you’d ever be seen with the likes of him besides in the dark, but you never did. 

Hours pass and the music just gets worse. Wiz Khalifa starts singing about colors and Eddie looks at the crowd of people grinding and rolls his eyes. 

The alcohol has you feeling tingly, a buzzing of flirtation sparks your blood and you are closer to Eddie than ever, the smell of his musky cologne and laundry detergent invade you.

Like any drunk girl, you start getting antsy, a little more touchy, and a lot more feely. Standing around isn’t cutting it anymore and you want to move, toss your hair back to some cheesy song, want to feel those hands you’ve been staring at all night run along your body as your hips move against him. 

Running your forefinger along the inside seam of Eddie’s flannel shirt, you look up at him through your lashes. 

“I’m assuming you’re not one to dance to a club remix?” 

Eddie watches your finger stroke up and down, your knuckles barely grazing his abdomen, but the small touch sending electricity to his spine. 

He leans into you, following your lead and pinching the hem of your skirt between his large fingers “you’d assume correct, the music I listen to is a little more head bangy than this.” 

“So,” you say coyly, pulling him towards you just a fraction more, “what you’re really saying is that you can’t dance.” 

Eddie scoffs, throwing his head back, his throat sticky with sweat and the hair by his ears wet and curling into ringlets, “oh I can dance my ass off honey, taught Channing Tatum everything he knows.” 

His hands find your hips, and you almost lose the little bit of confidence you have gained when the warmth of them seeps through your shirt, his blunt nails skimming your skin in small strokes.

“Do these little white lies masked as dorky ass pickup lines work for you?” Your hands are on his chest now, the black light illuminating each letter of his Deftones shirt to sparkle like snow beneath your fingers. 

“I don’t know,” he whispers into your ear, pulling you tight against him so your chest is pressed into his, “you tell me.” 

The music changes and a throwback song  

comes on, one you haven’t heard in years. 

“Guess you’ll have to show me those moves, because in typical drunk girl fashion… this is my song!” 

You grab Eddie’s hand and stomp to the middle of the floor, pulling him along with you until you’re shoulder to shoulder with other drunk and sweaty college kids. 

“Get low?” Eddie asks from behind you, his mouth dangerously close to the shell of your ear as his hands land heavy on your hips, “seriously?” 

Leaning your head back so your lips could reach him you talk loud enough just so he can hear you, “stop talking and fucking dance with me already.” 

“Goddamn…” he groans when you finally push your body fully back into him. 

It’s sloppy and horribly uncoordinated the way your drunken hips move beneath his hands. You’re both swaying along with the music, trying like hell to match the rhythm of everyone else around you. But in the tiny square footage you have in this cluster fuck of a space, Eddie has all the right moves. 

His palms are pressing you tighter into him, making sure you can feel just how hard he is, how hard you are making him. 

Courage and a few prom night dances under your belt have you dropping low and coming up slow, your skirt fanning out the tiniest bit as your knees are bent to the ground.

And Eddie is practically thanking God himself when you run the fattest part of your ass up his body, on the bunched denim by his shins, skimming the barely there fabric of your skirt against the hole in his knee, and finally up where he desperately needs your body the most. 

When you come back up he moves your hair from the side of your neck, his lips puckering around your earlobe as he nibbles lightly, “spin around so I can see you.” 

He groans again when you shake your head and laugh at his dismay, as much as he is turned on and bothered you are too, but the power of keeping him like this, teasing him with your body— turned you on even more. 

You snake your hands upwards seductively, landing daintily at the nape of his neck, twirling the wet tendrils of curls round and round pulling gently. Eddie hisses through his teeth, his hands roaming freely from your hips to your ribcage running them along the length of your sides, bruisingly hard. 

One minute you’re facing away from him, eyes closed in pleasure as he roves over your body, his lips pressed to your neck, and in the next he’s spinning you around so that you’re face to face— eyes locked on eachother, the heat and the alcohol and the endorphins are too much to handle. 

Your once labored breathing snuffs out to nothing when he leans in with licked lips his eyes fixated on your mouth. Standing. Staring. Staring and standing. You’ve had enough of this cat and mouse game. 

“Fucking kiss me alrea—”

His mouth with its plush pillow lips slam into you. He tastes like tart orange juice and a bite of alcohol. Like the way a summer day would taste if it were bottled up. He licks into your mouth and you whine for more of him, clutching onto his neck and pulling him further into you. 

When you break for air it’s loud, smacking lips and lapping tongues, tilting your heads to line up perfectly. When you twist yours again, Eddie holds onto your neck angling it just so with a glint of trouble in those whiskey eyes as he dives into the supple skin at the column of your throat. 

Sucking, swirling— his tongue is hot against you and you’re clutching onto his shoulders, your nails digging into the pilling fabric like he was the only thing keeping you Earthbound. 

You wiggle in his arms, squealing and whining out but he’s holding you tightly against him, moaning words into your neck that you can’t hear above the music. Then he’s on your mouth again, working you into a fit. His big veiny hands move along your back, grabbing your ass softly, then work up to wrap in your hair or lightly scratch at the inch of skin between your skirt and your tank top. 

Doing your own little damage to him, his shirt is shoved up over his chest, your fingernails trailing down his tattooed skin. A rise of goosebumps following in their tracks, and he stops kissing you to suck in a breath, your smile on his lips as you laugh and he whispers a breathy ‘fuuuuck’. 

Your fingers trail down to his waist band, tickling his skin as you suggest an idea with your eyes, one that you’re certain he would understand.

“C’mon,” he mouths, gesturing his chin to the exit as he slowly begins to pull you from the dance floor, up the stairs and into the kitchen area.

Eddie knew what he wanted. Knew it the second you walked out of that stall with that sweet fucking smile on your lips, shy and coy when he called your name cute, like you weren’t at all used to the type of attention he was giving.

And maybe you didn’t want this with him. Maybe you were a: ‘fuck-me-in-the-dark-so-I-won’t-be-embarrassed-by-being-seen-with-you’ type of girl, but you did dance with him, you laughed at his stupid jokes, stuck by him almost all night, but still he needed to be sure. 

He thought maybe in the brighter light you’d change your mind about what you wanted, what you needed from him, but you surprise him when you cling to his side, going up the steps, and backing into a wall pulling him with you by his shirt needily when you reach the top.

“D’ you uh..wanna get outta here?” he slurs, almost sleepily, his bangs fucked up beyond belief, his hair drenched and sticky with sweat and humidity, lips swollen red.

“My dorm isn’t far,” you say, looking up at him through your lashes running your finger along the waist of his jeans, “across campus.” 

Eddie chuckles, “fuck…” he sweeps a thumb over your pouted lips, groaning as he bites his own. “I’d crawl to fuckin’ Alaska for these, honey.” 

Your cheeks burn sweetly from his inebriated compliments. And even though you’re tipsy and so is he, you feel an odd sort of comfort with him—one you haven’t experienced before. 

“Let’s go then,” you whisper into his ear, “I want you inside me.” 

That did it for him. 

Eddie was all but running with you across the campus green, but not before taking off his long sleeved shirt and placing it over your shoulders murmuring how it was freezing and you’d probably get sick. 

Your combined laughter ricocheted off concrete forums and neatly trimmed grass. Passing by the fancy Chemistry Lab building, the Art Museum, the Med School and finally to your painted black brick dorm building: “Wheeler Hall” 

“Here’s home,” you sing out, placing your key into the door and pulling on the steel handle. 

The Wheeler Dorms were the newest addition to the college town. Named after a family that was killed in an accident back in the 80’s or something… you didn’t really remember what happened. 

The side door you had come in through was closest to your room, 011, on the first floor, again, the universe being kind to you. 

“Never been here before,” Eddie said looking around with wide eyes, “any of the dorms actually.” 

You smiled upon unlocking your room and entering, hanging up your keys on the command strip hooks by the door. Whatever confidence he had back at the party is now deflated a bit once he realizes just how different the two of you are. What the hell was he doing here? You’re in college, he’s only here because he deals. 

“Uhh..?” he questions, eyeing the lofted bed, “you know I was joking about being an athlete, right?” 

You giggle and toss your purse onto the futon, “relax, that’s Kenzie’s bed, mine is the shorter one.” 

“Oh thank fuck,” he practically sings letting out an over exaggerated sigh as he plops down on your futon, eyeing the leopard throw blanket, “I may look like a suave Casanova but I’m about as agile as Mr. Bean.” 

Laughter fills the room and you click on a lamp throwing the room into a cozy ambience as you slip off your sandals and sit on your bed, leaning forward, “you’re way hotter than him.” 

Eddie blushes a bubble gum pink sheen, using his still damp and unruly hair to cover his face, “keep being sweet on me see where it gets you.” 

“Is that supposed to be a threat, or a promise?”

“Oh baby, I don’t make threats, not to a girl that’s like you.” 

“Like me?” 

“Yeah you,” he deadpans, standing up and waltzing towards your bed, crowding you in, “funny, sexy, and by some greater power— digs me… at least I hope.” 

“I’m not the type of girl to bring a guy back to my place, Eddie,” you nearly whisper, putting a finger into his dangling necklace and pulling him forward, “you’d be the first.” 

Eddie places his hands next you on the bed, “like your first? Or just here in college first, I’m cool with either I just— are you sure you want this? I can leave if y—”

Cutting him off you kiss him, but not like the heavy kisses earlier when you two were making out like you were each other's oxygen masks, this one is sweet, like melted  sugar on Eddie’s tongue. 

“You talk too much,” you say with a warm smile, wrapping a finger around his curled ends of hair, “no more of that, just kiss me.” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

Eddie wraps his arm around your waist and shifts you up further into the bed, laying your head on a pillow his body pressed into yours. He takes his time with you, kissing your lips then your jaw, working his way down your neck to where the bruises he’s already sucked into your skin were painted. 

Your moans and little breathy sighs have him hard against his zipper, his hips bucking into the tiny fabric of your panties that’s covering up that sweet pussy he got a glimpse of earlier. 

His shirt is somewhere on the floor, you had pried it off of him between locked lips and groans of having to move your lips from his that earned you a throaty laugh from him and the sexiest eyes that drove into you with an intense ferocity. 

He lowers further down your body, kissing every inch, moving your tank top out of the way to eye your orange bra, his mouth between your cleavage, moaning about how orange is now his favorite color. 

Eddie’s everywhere all at once, a hand traveling up and down your thigh, from the crux of your knee to the waistband of your skirt, the other hand is popping your tits out from that new found favorite colored bra of his —smiling wickedly at your peaked nipples. 

You moan lustful bliss as his tongue circles each one, giving equal attention to both, “you like that?” he asks.

“Feels so good,” you whine, “more, please.” 

Eddie smirks with your nipple between his teeth, “don’t have to ask me twice.” 

You weren’t a virgin, but holy shit you felt as if you had never had sex before, well never sex like this. Eddie teased you with his fingers, his thumb rubbing your clit while his fingers pumped inside of you, each curling inward towards a place nobody has reached before. 

He groaned with his bottom lip tucked between his sharp bite rubbing his achy cock through his jeans when you pushed your skirt down laying there in a matching orange lacey thong, bedazzled on the hips. 

“Would it be corny if I say you look like a Goddess?” he asks sheepishly, pinching the stretching fabric around your hips, “because… wow.” 

You bite your finger as if you were really thinking hard on this, hiding a smile, “you’re too much, Munson.”

“Too much?” he scoffs, pulling down your panties and settling himself between your legs, “you haven’t even seen my dick yet.”

You sit up, tits out and naked from the waist down, “well by all means, show me.”

“Greedy girl,” Eddie smirks, “did you bring me here just to get me naked? I’m appalled!” 

You move to your knees, sitting upright a bit so your face is level with his. You kiss him softly, moving to his neck and sucking just right to pull those deep moans from him that make your knees shake. 

Feather light touches skate along the expanse of his chest, working down down down until you’re undoing his belt, thumbing open the button on his jeans and yanking down his zipper.  

When your hand slides between him and his boxer briefs,  Eddie hisses, watching you pump him slow and tight. The feel of your smooth palm against his velvety shaft makes him almost cum right there and then, it’s been awhile since the last time. 

But you’re not hesitating or questioning yourself and he isn’t either. It’s almost fluid like a rocking wave the way Eddie lays you down, a team effort to swiftly shove down his jeans so you can finally feel eachother where the desperation is needed most. 

Legs hiked over his hips, he lines himself up with your gummy slicked entrance. It’s a deep and achy stretch for you, a vice grip for him. The lazy gasping moans you both emit are drawn out, yours practically breathless. 

“Holy fuck,” you breath into his mouth as he peppers you with kisses. He drags his hips out at a measured pace, pushing in just as unhurriedly, enjoying the way your body adjusts, cuffing him like a glove. 

Eddie breaks away from your lips to watch your bodies join together, moaning your name as he presses his forehead on yours collecting your mouth with his. 

“Shit…This okay?” he asks earnestly, nipping at your ear. 

You nod in gasping silence, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he speeds up. Your hands are skimming down his bareback, pressing him further into you with every thrust, begging him for more. 

He snakes a hand between you, rubbing circles in your puffy clit as he thrusts harder, trying to get you there before he loses all control. “Want you to feel good sweetheart, fuck— keep making those pretty little noises, you’re squeezin’ the hell outta me.” 

And he does. You cum hard around him, your walls fluttering and pulsing so fast you practically black out from the mixed pleasure of his fingers rubbing your clit and his cock stuffed in deep. 

His name falls from your lips in tiny little whines and he bucks into you a hard and final time before he groans, holding onto your headboard for support as he’s bottoming out, stringing rope after rope of hot spend inside of you. 

“Baby,” he whispers, “God—” he stops cold, realizing what he just did and what he didn’t do. “Oh shit, fuck fuck fuck! I didn’t pull out, I'm sorry! I’m so fucking sorry!

You laugh wickedly, your body shaking beneath him at his worried panicked face. 

He’s a babbling, out-of-breath mess, “’s not funny! I just got caught up in the moment and you felt so fucking good and I’m still a little dru—”

“Eddie, it’s fine,” you say, holding his cheeks with both hands squishing them together so his lips pucker like a fish, “I’m on the pill.” 

His face is still squished together when he speaks, “oh, well… okay.” 

“You’re fine,” you coo, coaxing him down from the ledge of regret and self hatred, “I—” you lean up and kiss him square on the mouth, licking into it and sliding your tongue against his, “I liked it.” 

His eyebrows disappear into his bangs and before he can open his mouth to speak you’re pulling him onto you kissing him deep and needy. 

The two of you end the night that way, him holding you, your hands in his hair, kissing so much your lips are chapped— never getting enough. Legs entangled together like a weaved basket. You fall asleep before he does, your little huffed breathing making his skin damp as you curl further into his chest. 

Wonder if Verizon is open tomorrow? He thinks when he remembers that his phone is definitely broke from it landing on the bathroom floor—but he’d never tell you that. 

He also wouldn’t tell you how he was supposed to go back to Steve’s tonight because they were leaving to see another old friend in California for the weekend— or how they needed to be at the airport by 2 AM for a 4 AM flight.  — or that Eddie was Steve’s ride because he lost his license in July. 

Nope.

He wouldn’t tell you any of it. None of that seemed to matter when you were sleeping so cute on his chest like that. 

When late morning comes you’re at it again, this time you’re riding him on the futon, slow like a twangy country song his hands rocking your hips. When you both finish you drag him to the showers, pumping some expensive shampoo into his hair and giggling when you tell him to be quiet so you won’t get caught. 

Steve called Eddie’s phone all night, and all morning, sending duplicate texts of rage, wondering where the fuck he had gone. 

Eddie silences the last call from Steve as you’re getting dressed, wearing a black pair of yoga pants and a zip up hoodie. He smiles when you offer to comb his hair, grabbing your wrist to pull you onto his lap kissing behind your ear. 

His voice is low, soothingly sweet and minty from your toothpaste as he asks, “can I take you to breakfast?” 

[catboybiologist]

Yay I'm going to get all Political and angry again.

So pretty much every trans American is probably aware of the Sarah McBride situation at this point, but here's the bullet point summary if needed for anyone else:

Sarah McBride gets elected to the House as the first transgender member of Congress in US history.

Republicans predictably flip their shit. They pass internal rules of conduct that prohibit trans people from using bathrooms of their gender and stating that bathroom use is defined by AGAB. It obviously singles out McBride, but I believe there are trans staffers that are also affected.

McBride issues a statement that she will abide by these rules, and pretty much only use the bathroom directly associated with her physical office. She issues a statement saying she "wasn't elected for bathrooms" and will instead fight in issues that matter, with a milquetoast criticism of Republicans for wasting time on this.

Many trans Americans are predictably scared and disappointed by this, especially because this internal house rule is being used as a blueprint for more extensive laws, including a likely ban on trans people in gendered bathrooms in all federal land and buildings (including, notably for me, national parks. Which breaks my heart, but that's a different rant.)

There's been a lot of disappointment and criticism of McBride over this. The general leftist reaction has been criticism. There's lots of people that have expressed disappointment or rage, including Erin Reed, and also more "personality" type people like Vaush and Jessie Gender.

Now.

I'm disappointed too.

But. And please keep reading before chewing me out for being an apologist.

I think we can all understand that McBride is in an impossible situation. If she fights this too hard, then it vindicates the Republican rhetoric that Dems are crazy trans obsessed leftists. But there's a fear that this will only lead to more infringements of rights for trans people. McBride is completely stuck, and is a junior, freshly elected member of Congress who is trying to figure out how to make her voice the most effective.

I am so, so fucking tired of rights being ceded one by one. So I'm disappointed. But yeah, I understand McBride's statement.

But there's just one tiny. Eeny weeny. Minor. Itty Bitty question having over all of this. Just one little concern.

Where.

The fuck.

Are the rest of the Democrats?!?!?!?

There is a PAINFULLY fucking easy solution to all of this. McBride needs backing, solidarity, and other people to speak for her. If she's worried about her voice being effective, and being branded as the crazy trans representative, then step the fucking up, you spineless liberal slimebags.

AOC is the only one that I know of that has expressed any real opposition or anger. Her statements are getting aaallll the airtime.

But the real story is McBride's sentiment being echoed amongst the entire party. This is absolutely some kind of official platform. The fucking grumbling, milquetoast finger waving and "well I don't like this, but there's nothing to be done! Anyways"

Of fucking course minorites are abandoning the left. The message they're sending is "we'll abandon you with the most pathetic of excuses. We don't give a shit." Trimming groups out of their support one by one.

McBride is doing the impossible calculus of trying to be the most effective on the house floor. It's an insane task for a trans woman. And yeah, she got it wrong this time. But where the fuck is the anger for her cis colleagues? Why the fuck aren't people angry and terrified for everyone that let this shit happen?

As much as people love the narrative of the line wolf resistor, resistance takes coordination, effort, and solidarity. Without that, what would McBride raising opposition even be? One representative against the hundreds of others.

And yeah, of course I didn't expect any better from the Democratic party. But you should be disappointed and mad at your representative, not just McBride.

[r4spb3rr13s]

holds out my hands

greeting my mcbling angel

maybe i pretty please ask for shoto, iida and denki meeting their own mcbling hottie 🙏🙏🙏

- 🍥 anon

pro heroes meeting their mcbling gf

♱ todoroki, iida, kaminari

♱ pt.1 here pt.3 here

notes : ur too cute anon 🥰🥰

Shoto has been stood staring at his options for soba for the past ten minutes. He’s deep in decision, hand on chin, in the middle of the store just before closing.

So deep in thought, he’s completely oblivious to you strutting round the corner to the aisle he stood in.

You’re on your phone, moving by muscle memory. Your favourite noodles are always in the same spot, so your uggs lead you to where the soba is-

But you look up.

Shoto- your favourite pro hero, for reference- is stood like the motherfucking Thinker. In your presence.

You backpedal, but it’s too late- he’s seen you!

Shoto turns you to and his eyes widen. You’re in a neon pink graphic cami, big hoops hiding from beneath (locs/braids/curls/strands) and as his eyes trail down…

His cheeks go as pink as the thong peeking out your pants’ waistband. I mean, Shoto didn’t really have time to register your slack jaw.

There’s so much running through your head at the minute- who wears a black compression shirt to the store? How are his muscles bigger in real life than on billboards? Why does his hair look so soft?

He coughs and it breaks the moment.

“Oh- sorry, can I just-”

“Yeah, I apologise,” He replies. When you lean over to grab your noodles, a waft of sugary, almost sickly, perfume hits his nose. It was intoxicating- not in a bad way.

You’re trying to steady your breathing- he’s just another guy, Y/n, chill! Boys fall left and right for you, just breathe.

Breathe.

“You’re Shoto right?”

Ohmygodidiotidiotofcoursehe’sshotowhaythefuckyo-

“Yes, that’s me.” He smiles slightly, corners of his lips lifting. Every nerve in your body is screaming to swoon - maybe he’d catch your fainting body?

You could look into his gorgeous eyes, and he’d brush the hair from your face-

“Is everything alright?”

You snap out of your daydream and smile awkwardly. “Uh… I’m just a big fan, is all.”

He nods and smiles down at you, softly. You clear your throat and hoist your bag further up your shoulder.

“I like your clothes.”

Your world stops for a minute. How do you breath again? It’s not hard, Y/n, come on-

“Where did you get the inspiration?” He says. Shoto makes no move to leave - you’re not an annoying fan, begging for his autograph.

Plus, you have the prettiest eyes he’s ever seen.

You blink owlishly at him - his heart skips a beat, of course - and you just nod dumbly for a second. Then, it registers that he’s actually interested in you?

“Umm… 2000s stuff, American celebrities mainly. What about you?”

Shoto huffs a chuckle, “I don’t really have style.” He glances at his watch, and his smile morphs into a… pout? It’s subtle, but his brows furrow ever-so-slightly, and his bottom lip just out a little bit.

“Oh God, don’t let me keep you,” You hurry. Good lord, your face is burning up aggressively.

He shakes his head, but bites his lip still looking at his watch. “No, I’m on shift soon… it was nice meeting you…?”

“Oh, Y/n!”

Shoto smiles again, glances at his watch with an internal frustrated groan. He needed more time to talk to you, to understand you, to get to the bottom of the neon pink and leopard print-

Oh, right.

“Could I get your number, Y/n?”

:::

Tenya spent his nights going on walks. Why? Because he liked to meet his neighbours’ dogs… did he know that’s why he liked them, however? No. He just thought walking around gave him immense joy for no reason.

And they call him ‘smart’.

His favourite dogs were the least of worries when he walked past the park and heard shouting.

Tenya’s head snapped to, and he was marching through the park gates.

You, a grown woman, were stood on a table, wafting away… chihuahuas. You, in a tiny denim skirt and a babydoll top, were using your small purse to shoo away a trio of stray chihuahuas.

In all fairness, Tenya disliked chihuahuas the most of all the dogs he’d met, but he’s never seen someone in platform sneakers clamber onto a picnic bench to get away from them. Or scream at the top of their lungs at the tiny puppies.

He could not help but let out a laugh at the sight, making you look up at him. You straightened up a bit and stopped screaming, but still sounded shaky.

“You’re that hero right?”

“My name is Ingenium, yes,” he replied. One of the rat-dogs had turned to growl at him now, but Tenya paid no mind to it.

You pointed at the dogs. “Could you… y’know, be a hero and save me?”

He raised a brow without meaning to. He shouldn’t be judging you for your fears - he’s a hero! Here to help everyone!

But still… three tiny dogs?

He sighed and nodded. Suddenly, all three dogs were in his arms, and being carried towards the kid’s sandbox. He paid no mind to them nipping and jumping up- not like they could escape his large forearms.

Large firearms that you were looking at with much interest…

He returned, ignoring the yapping puppies trying to escape the gates, but not being tall enough to get out. “I’ll call animal control, Miss…”

“Oh, just call me Y/n. What should I call you?” You asked, taking his hand and stepping down.

Tenya tried to ignore how small your hand was in his, or how your skirt hitched up your thighs when you stepped down. Instead, he helped you stand upright on your wobbly legs, and pushed down his blush when you thanked him.

“Iida. Tenya Iida.”

You looked him up and down. Tenya Iida was tall, broader than a fridge and had glasses you desperately wanted to push up his nose for him.

“Well, Tenya Iida… can I take you out for a drink to thank you?”

Tenya froze and he couldn’t stop the red that stretched across his face at your question. But he nodded. But it was so unprofessional! A true hero would never use a victim’s position to their advantage, the power imbalance was-

“I’ll need your number then!” You sang out.

Tenya’s internal protests were lost as he passed you his phone, and you type in your digits with your long, zebra print nails.

:::

Now, Denki has met a few of Mina’s friends. They were all… nice. He flirted casually, maybe exchanging numbers with them, but they never ended up getting a call.

So when Mina announced she was bringing ‘fresh meat’ to their group’s monthly reunion, he didn’t really prepare himself for much.

Then, you walked in.

All giggles, sparkly black eyeshadow and lipgloss. Mina was whispering in your ear before strutting you through the doorway, but Denki was more focused on your shiny lips curling up into a grin.

A black tube top held you in, pink bikini straps wrapping around the back of your neck. His eyes travelled down- shamelessly, might I add- to the leggings hugging your curves. ‘PINK’ written on your ass caught his attention like a siren, and your matching hot pink toes from your sandals didn’t help either.

“This is Y/n!”

Katsuki and Eijiro barely looked up, immersed in an aggressive game of … cards, or something - Denki was not paying attention to them. He was, however, paying keen attention to the once-over Hanta gave you.

Mina grabbed your bangled-wrist and tugged you to sit with her between the two boys.

The unmistakeable scent of sugar and apples wafted over his face when you sat down. You shot him a big, toothy grin and Denki thought he was going to short-circuit right there-

He didn’t realise he actually was letting off electricity until he watched your hair stand on end.

“What the…” You tried to pat your hair down, while Mina cackled behind you. The pink woman draped an arm around your shoulder.

“Aww, Denki’s all nervous! Look at him!”

You stopped focusing on your hair and looked at the man next to you. Lean, tan and blushing furiously. He was, in truth, letting sparks fly off him like a faulty wire.

You chuckled, “You alright?”

Denki did not know what to do. You were staring at him with a cheeky smile, eyes wide and soft, and his friends were laughing and pointing at him behind you.

“Yes.” It was the only word the poor boy could get out. You snorted at him and rolled your eyes, pulling out your phone.

He watched with wide eyes as you grabbed his hand but you pulled back for a minute when he shocked you.

“Shit- sorry-”

“Just put your number in my phone, okay?”

You held out the device in your hand with a cocky grin.

Mina had to usher him to another room to calm down before he blew your phone up in his hand by accident….

note: pls shoto is so OOC IDFK HOW TO WRITE HIM 😭

[wileys-russo]

a deals a deal II l.williamson

"where'd you find this place?" you smiled in awe as you followed leah into the arcade, the blonde not missing the ways your eyes had lit up the moment the two of you had even parked outside, exactly the reaction she'd hoped for.

it having been your girlfriends turn to organize date night leah reveled in the fact that it was already seeming to be a success before it officially started, and you had to admit the older girl knew you like the back of her hand with this choice.

with both of you working full time, leah as a footballer and you as a primary teacher you both made a commitment early on, the moment things started getting serious, that despite your hectic schedules you'd still make every effort to keep consistent with spending quality time outside of work together.

and so the weekly date nights came into effect.

they weren't always big significant events nor did they always mean the two of you left your shared home, the key takeaway was quality time and so long as the two of you were focused on one another then that was guaranteed.

"lotte put me onto it, tao brought her here on one of their first dates." leah admitted as you gasped sarcastically. "and you're not even taking the credit? oh baby i'm so proud of you!" you cooed mockingly, pinching her cheeks as the taller girl shoved you playfully, the two of you making your way to the counter.

"i'll be taking credit for all the games i'm about to smash you at my girl, don't you worry your pretty little head about that." leah smiled smugly as you rolled your eyes and she hooked you both up with a large bag of tokens, even further fueling your excitement at the fact they still ran their games the old school way, physical tickets printed and all.

"oh my love me and my pretty little head cannot wait to watch you eat your words!" you grinned in response to her call out, and given neither of you liked to lose and were incredibly competitive, it was sure to be an interesting night.

there was a reason the two of you stopped getting invites to game night with leahs family, both of you banned until you learned how to behave like well mannered young women and not hotheaded impatient numpties, in the words of her grandmother.

"well either way you can consider tonight endless tokens, if you can spend them then i will buy them gorgeous." leah promised, pecking your lips sweetly with a charming smile and offering for you to pick the first game.

"mm good question babe. what do i want to beat you at first?" you pondered, stroking your chin as leah sighed dramatically at the time you were taking, tapping her foot and shoving her hands into the pocket of her jacket with a bored look written into her features.

"oh come on!" leah groaned impatiently as you pivoted away from yet another game, amused smirk on your features as you finally stopped and nodded happily.

"basketball. lets start off simple!" you decided, grabbing your girlfriends hand and dragging her over toward the game, the blonde hurrying to yank you back as a gang of young boys sprinted past almost smashing into you, leah looking after them with a deep seeded scowl.

"hey lee, need i remind you this place is actually designed for kids baby, relax." you smiled poking at her cheeks as she huffed air out of her nose but focused her attention back on you, both of you slipping tokens into your sides as the game lit up and a strong american accent yelled out the rules.

"ready...set....go!" leah counted down as the buzzer sounded, both of you scrambling to grab the balls, zoned in on your own rings as the points started to rack up for both of you.

leah snuck a quick glance to your side, bright eyes widening in shock seeing you were in the lead and by quite a significant amount. and just as you said neither of you liked to lose, which is what lead to her next move.

"oi!" you gasped as the defender leaned over and knocked the ball out of your hand, shooting with her other, doing it again and again as you reached for the basketballs.

"leah!" you laughed at her blunt competitiveness, shoving her as the final buzzer for the game sounded and the blonde cheered victoriously, pumping her fist and doing a victory wiggle having just beat you by two points.

"you are such a cheat and a shit loser." you shook your head as leah continued her victory dance, snatching her tickets from the machine and shoving them into her pocket.

"nah i'm not, cause i didn't lose." she booped you on the nose with a token as you smacked her shoulder. "right well if you want to carry on like that. would you care to make this interesting then williamson?" you challenged, crossing your arms over your chest.

"mm perhaps, what do you have in mind for a wager pretty girl?" leah raised an eyebrow curiously, cocky smirk still curled into her features.

"if i win, you do all the dishes and the laundry for a month." you stated, leahs jaw dropping and your smile widening knowing she detested the two tasks and would often offer you anything in return for not having to do them.

"a month!? nah two weeks mate max." "aw, are you that scared you'll lose baby?" "i am not! fine, a month then."

"but if i win... then you have to do that thing i've been asking you to since christmas, with my special gift." leah cocked her head to the side, storm blue eyes roaming over your body hungrily as you frowned a little in confusion before it clicked just exactly what she was after.

both half jokingly and half seriously the blonde had gifted you a very ill fitting maids costume for christmas, stating as part of your gift to her you should spend the day wearing it, claiming it would be great motivation for her to join you in doing the housework.

you only laughed and put it away, teasing that not even that would get her to pick up a dirty dish.

but every now and then leah would find it in the back of the wardrobe and the begging would start for you to live out what was clearly a fantasy for the taller girl, and each time you'd just teasingly shake your head in amusement and depart the room with a kiss, leaving her without a real answer.

"fine, a deal's a deal." you shrugged in agreement which was clearly to your girlfriends surprise as her eyebrows shot up in shock and you extended your hand, wiggling your fingers eagerly.

"brilliant. a deals a deal." the blonde echoed as she shook your hand but not before using it to pull your body into hers, stealing a kiss and nipping at your bottom lip, pulling away with a cheeky grin as your head spun and your cheeks flushed pink.

"right, my turn to pick then. and unlike some i won't take an hour to decide!"

~

"how in the hell do you even do this? its got no bloody control!" leah huffed, the two of you sat on motorbikes as you raced around the track on the screens in front of you, the girl beside you far from getting the hang of it despite it being the second time you'd raced, leah demanding a rematch after crashing her bike and earning a loss.

"like this, winner!" you cheered loudly, pumping your fists in the air as you zoomed across the finish line sitting back smugly as leahs eyebrows furrowed into a deep frown and she smacked at the handle bars in annoyance.

"loser." you pointed to her now with a wink as she flipped you off, rings glinting in the bright neon lights above.

"maybe i should get a motorbike." you teased, turning your body as leah jumped off the bike, appearing instantly in between your legs as you stayed sitting side sadle. "over my dead body, maybe focus on learning how to drive a car first babe." leah teased making you roll your eyes, her hands settling on your thighs and squeezing them with a grin.

"i'm a great driver thank you very much." "mmm but those handful of fines in your glovebox say differently baby girl." "those are parking fines leah, not driving offences." "oh i'm so sorry. correction then not only are you a shit driver but you're an appalling parker as well, can't even be trusted when the car is stationary!" leah tutted with a dissapointed shake of her head as you punched her in the shoulder and scoffed.

"sorry let me just get a score check, whose winning?" you asked, cupping a hand over your ear and leaning toward leah whose smile dropped.

"shut up." she mumbled with a small pout as you slid off the motorbike, the two of you wandering around for a moment as leah took her time choosing.

"perfect!" the taller girl grinned spotting a football shootout game in the back corner. "and how many goals do defenders normally score?" you hummed, pretending to be lost in thought as leah slotted in some tokens and rolled her eyes.

"don't be bitter that they don't have a teaching game babe, times tables aren't exactly something kids do in their time off for fun!" leah pouted sarcastically at your chosen career, you now the one to flip her off and gesture for her to start.

"right go on then superstar, dazzle me."

you had to hide your smile behind your hand as leah missed more kicks than she scored, the game clearly designed for a child with much less leg power as every ball sailed up and over the goal.

you watched as her shots became sloppier the more wound up and angry she got, only fueling her to continue to miss time and time again. "nah this is bullshit that's rigged!" leah scowled, kicking at the machine once her turn was over and grumbling under her breath.

"leah!" you scolded, moving her away from causing actual damage as she wound up for another kick.

"hey. breathe for me please, it's just a stupid arcade game, you're still a champion of europe baby. nothing takes that away!" you grabbed at her face, placing a soft kiss to her lips and feeling her body relax somewhat.

"...its just a good thing they didn't need you for any penalties because those attempts? massive yikes." "oi thats a red card for you my girl, absolutely uncalled for!"

~

"right, this ones the final game." leah glanced at the time and announced with a clap, the two of you so caught up you'd not even realized the time and how long you'd been here.

"oh how convenient, we're tied." you rolled your eyes, not believing that the 'score card' leah had been in charge of was really all that accurate, having been typed up in notes on her phone.

"and what is that supposed to mean?" "i'm accusing you of score tampering, williamson." "no idea what on earth you're on about love, i'll even be so kind as to forfeit my turn so that you choose our last game." "wow, and they say chivalry is dead?"

"mmm that one." you nodded to a shooting game in the corner you'd not yet tried, leah humming in agreement as you made your way over. "was that your stomach?" you asked in disbelief hearing a loud gurgle.

"yes! i'm fucking starving." leah moped with a huff, earning herself an unimpressed look from a mother standing at the next game with her two young kids, you smacking leah lightly and mumbling about her language.

"sorry miss." your girlfriend teased with a cocky smile as you rolled your eyes and gestured for her to take her turn. the gunner shot down 8 tin ducks out of 12 and shrugged, seemingly happy with her efforts.

"beat that, four eyes." leah smirked, flicking at your ear as you smacked away her hands and shot her a dirty look.

you only wore your glasses when you were using your laptop, reading or occasionally when teaching, and as much as leah found you utterly adorable in them the english captain also would never miss an opportunity to rib you about your poor eyesight.

"happily, noodle legs." you quipped back with a smile, grabbing the gun as leah mocked you under her breath and ordered for you to hurry up as her stomach rumbled again.

closing one eye you balanced the toy gun on your arm as the game commenced, shooting down six ducks with ease, a few more to go and you'd win still with plenty of time left to do so.

however as you placed your finger on the trigger, the timer counting down from ten, a set of hands wrapped themselves around your waist, one hand in particular slipping up the inside of your top and harshly squeezing at one of your boobs.

in shock at the unexpected touch you squeezed the trigger and dropped the toy gun, missing the ducks by a mile as the timer went off and leah's hands suddenly disappeared, your skin burning where they'd once been.

"oh that is so not fair! you. are. a. dirty. dirty. dirty. dirty. dirty. little cheat." you protested with a growl, turning on your heel to glare towards a smug looking leah, poking at her chest angrily with each word.

"i simply do not know what you're talking about gorgeous, i guess your aim was just off. and that is not my fault!" the blonde simply smiled cockily, knowing she'd now won.

though sensing your rapidly growing annoyance leah reached for your hand, pulling your body into hers and stepping the two of you in between two pinball machines, briefly tucked away from sight.

"leah catherine williamson you are an unbearably bad loser, a big child, bad mannered, short tempered and-" not even giving you the time to finish your sentence the taller girl cut you off by bringing your lips together, pressing your body against the arcade wall.

leahs hands settled themselves on your hips tucked away under her jacket you'd stolen from her earlier in the night, the defender slowly swiping her tongue against your bottom lip, taking control of the kiss as your arms wrapped around the back of her neck, tangling themselves in her recently chopped short blonde locks.

though before the two of you got any further carried away someone winning a game meant a loud siren went off behind you, the two of you jumping away from one another in shock at the abrupt noise of the machines, sharing a look before breaking out into soft laughter.

"come on hangry, lets go get you some food then." you smiled with a sigh as leahs stomach rumbled yet again, previous annoyance melting away as it always did when it came to the mischievous footballer you were head over heels for.

"no i think we should head home, i'm hungry for something else now." leah murmered quietly, thumb stroking your jaw, lips curling into a smug smile at how your cheeks flushed scarlet at her suggestive tone.

"plus i think you're due for a little outfit change baby girl. a deal's a deal and you're nothing short of a woman of your word, right?"

[merchelsea]

i can take it — logan sargeant

pairing: logan sargeant x girlfriend!vowles!reader

summary: she finds out about what her father (her boyfriend’s team manager) has been doing to him.

author’s note: i know it has all been denied by logan himself but i wanted to do it anyways. DO NOT TAKE IT AS A FACT OR TRUE EVENT.

word count: 1k

warnings: idk if there's any cursing, not proofread, sad logan, kind of daddy issues (?)

masterlist | requests

you were at home, laying down on the couch watching a show while you waited for hunger. everything you had to do was already done and dinner was ready, but you weren’t hungry to eat it.

you were tired, tho. you could easily go to sleep right now, but you knew better than to go to sleep without eating first.

that was when your phone started to ring and your best friend’s name appeared on the screen.

you stopped the show and picked up the call, putting it on speaker.

“hi?” you stretched your body on the couch.

“hey, have you talked to logan recently?” she asked, going straight to the point.

you could notice in her voice some kind of worry.

“hm, yeah… why?”

“and your dad?” she asked again.

“what? no, not really.” you answered, not sure about what was going on.

“open up twitter, babe.” her voice sounded alarmed. “i think you might want to do this on your own, i’ll hang up now.”

you simply hummed a goodbye and started to see the panic on your twitter mentions.

everyone knew about you and logan by now, so you were not surprised with all the tags from his fans, but it seemed like they needed explanations on a certain allegation.

“what the fuck?” you screamed as you saw the caption of a podcast, your mind going red immediately.

it’s like you were only capable of feeling anger.

that’s when you threw the blanket you had over your body away and got up. not caring about your clothing, that was just a pj, you got to your keys and left the house.

getting in your car, you drove as fast as legally possible to get to your father’s office.

while driving, your mind recalled everything you had learned about your boyfriend’s situation in williams.

a friend of a friend of logan told on a podcast that your boyfriend wasn’t even having fun in the team anymore. that was happening because of your father. apparently, the older vowles wasn’t giving logan the feedback he needed anymore and they were not on speaking terms.

you know how you say good morning to everyone? yeah, not even that.

you were more than pissed about all of this. you could understand that your father no longer had faith in logan, you did not agree with him but you could comprehend. but not even speaking to him? this was another level of childishness.

you got to your dad’s office in a matter of minutes and immediately asked to talk to him. you were told to wait, but, impatiently, crossed the building until you reached his room on your own and didn’t even bother to knock before going in and slamming the door behind you.

“what the fuck is this about?” you threw your phone on his table, an article opened.

“what?” vowles asked, a puzzled expression on his face. he started to read and his expression went from confused to worried in mere seconds.

“you are using silence treatment on logan?” you asked, disbelief clear in your voice. he sighed as he supported his head with his hands. “you can not do this to a driver”

another sigh.

you wanted him to say it was all a misunderstanding, that maybe this person was wrong or even lying. but you were just hurt when he spoke again.

“oh… this.” he finally looked up at you. “what do you want me to do? pretend i’m proud of the american like i don’t regret having him in my team?” all you wanted to do in that moment was punch your father in the face. it was so not fair.

“you’re being childish.” you pointed out.

he angrily looked over at you, as if you were in the wrong. as if he was the one who had to explain how you were wrong and why.

“he’s not talented enough for f1, y/n.” you were already angry, but when you heard your own father talk about the man you loved that way you completely lost it.

you could not care less about how loud you were being. maybe it wasn’t the most mature thing to do, but calling your father and imbecile felt pretty damn good.

“how the fuck is he supposed to deliver good results when he doesn’t have a clue about what’s going on?” you asked, honestly waiting for an answer before you started speaking again because the man in front of you was speechless. “the car isn’t good and the team isn’t good. you’re ruining it even more. he is talented and you know that, you just want to blame him for YOUR OWN mistakes.”

everything you had been holding in for some time, just because he was your father, was finally out. it should feel better than it did. you should feel way better than you did.

“that’s not true. and you should be ashamed of your little boyfriend for spreading things like this around.”

you couldn’t comprehend where this attitude came from. i guess you could really see how money changed people.

this was not the man you looked up to. this was not the father you wanted to be like when you were younger. and you had no problem of saying to his face that he had failed as a father.

“if there’s anything i’m ashamed of, is being your daughter.” you heard him start to complain, but you're already out the door when a proper word came out of his mouth. you rushed outside, too tired to fake smiles to people around you.

you needed to find logan. that was the only thing in your head.

tears already filled your eyes when you started the car, and you couldn't see properly, because of them, the whole way.

but you never gave in, none of them fell from your eyes until you were at his door and he looked at you, worry stamped on his eyes.

"hey? baby?" his hands rushed to the side of your face to make you look at him.

you couldn't help but notice how selfless he was. that made your heart sink. the way he always worried about other people first, even when he is in the worst position possible.

"i hate you." you let out, in a cry, and let your arms circle his body, pulling him to yourself.

logan let go of your face to pull you inside, and closer to him. he was as confused as one could be. and the circumstances he was put in during the day did not help him.

"baby, please tell me what's going on." he asked once your grip over him loosened and he could look at your face again.

"my dad..." logan's heart skiped a beat. he knew the older vowles disliked him, but he never thought he could actually put himself between you and logan. he was desperate to know the rest now. "what he's doing to you, that's so not right. so not fair." you finished, and heard your boyfriend let out a relieved sigh.

he was actually happy that it was about the whole williams situation, and not your dad poisoning your mind.

"baby." the driver starts, but his face tells you he doesn't regret not telling you. that doesn't anger you, like you thought it would. it actually makes you fall in love with him a little more.

"you never said anything, you stupid american." he couldn't help a chuckle at the nickname and you punched him in the chest. he realized just how serious you were about this and guilt rose in his chest.

"i didn't want you to worry, y/n."

his blue eyes were a little darker because of the lighting but you could still see the pain in them.

formula one was his dream as a kid, as a teenager and as an adult. he fought like hell to get there, and even when things got tight, he never gave up. you knew all about the financial struggles that would've ended his dream if it wasn't for williams.

they noticed his talent and helped him get to better categories of the sport he loved so dearly. and the boy? he loved that team and was so thankfull for them that it actually hurt you. your father actually helped ruining his path at formula one and still, that boy stood loyal and helped the team and his teammate in everything. standing by their calls and decisions even when they jeopardized his races.

"logan, i should've known about this from the start." you knew you could've done something for him if you knew about the situation sooner. maybe if you had talked to your dad, bringing some sense into that old head of his. anything but let this circus keep going until it reached this point. "what they're doing to you... it's so unfair."

"but i can take it, love." he smiled softly at you and you almost felt the urge to punch him. how could he think so low of himself that he didn't see how much he didn't deserve that treatment.

"i know you can, the thing is you shouldn't have to. let alone go through it on your own." you said in a higher voice, capturing all his attention. "logan do you realize that you're not having fun racing? you said it yourself." tears were no longer falling out of your eyes, and the ones on your face were starting to disappear. "you have loved this sport ever since you were born, and they are ruining it for you."

"i know that." he almost screamed. he was quick to apologize with his eyes, but you couldn't care less about the tone he was using. you wanted him to be angry, you needed him to let everything out. "i hate it all, y/n. but it's my dream to be where i am today."

"i know, logan. and that's what makes me more upset. their ruining your dream and you're smiling through it, letting it happen."

"i'm not 'letting it happen'." he said, hesitating a little. "i'm just... maybe if i did things a little better, i would not be in this situation but i didn't. and i have to deal with it." your expression softened and you let out a sigh.

"it kills me that you think that this is your fault." he started tearing up and you pulled him to yourself. he hid his face in your neck and you gently stroked the back of his head. "it's not your fault, baby. you are doing amazing for someone with so many difficulties."

you took your time in each others arms, calming down while feeling the touch of the person you loved.

"i'm sorry that i never told you. but it's your dad and i needed you by my side." he pushed himself back to look you in the eye. "i don't know if i could do it without you."

you were still not over everything he had told you, and would definitely come back to the topic sooner, but right now what mattered most to you was that logan felt loved and appreciated.

he was already going through a lot, and it killed you to see the man you loved like that.

"you will never have to worry about that because i'm here, logan. and i love you, always."

with his face in your hands, you leaned closer and peck his lips. that's enough for him to remember everything he was fighting for. he had to fight for himself. and with you by his side, he believed it was possible.

"i love you too, always." he leaned his forhead against yours. "thank you."

[mrtelevisionlover]

can i request a chrismd one where you where one if the girls in the 20 women vs 1 youtuber football edition and fans start to ship you two? even the guys haha! loving your work btw!!

Yes!! Loved writing this, enjoy!

(Can you tell I know nothing about football?)

words: 1500+

Style

When Y/n got a DM from Chris’ manager asking her to be in this video, she wasn’t too sure what to think. She wasn’t very lucky in the dating scene, only going on a few first dates, and had never had a boyfriend. She didn’t really want to embarrass herself in front of his millions of subscribers but she had been a fan of his work for a while and had always wanted to meet him so…why not?

The morning of, she was very nervous. She had bought a new shirt to wear, and paired it with some shorts. She braided her hair into a simple french braid and stepped into some worn out trainers. She decided to go without makeup, as she was probably going to sweat it off. Also the weather outside was horrible and she didn’t want mascara dripping down her face…And she was late for the train.

When she arrived on the pitch, she saw 19 other girls, all very pretty. She suddenly felt insecure, especially as no-one was talking to her. She decided to go over her pickup line, seeing as that would be his first impression of her.

Soon, the cameras started rolling and one by one, the girls would introduce themselves to Chris and his two friends, Calfreezy and ArthurTV. Eventually, it was just her left. She watched Chris say goodbye to Loretta, who she eventually learnt had been on a few dates with Chris already. Once his manager gave her the green light, she walked over to the table.

“Wow-Hello!” Chris smiles. He takes a moment to look at her face, admiring her.

“Hi! I’m Y/n and uh…Can you be your striker? I'm only aiming for your heart.” Y/n giggles slightly, and the sound brings blush to Chris’ cheeks. 

“Aww, that’s quite sweet.” Arthur coos.

Freezy pauses, then points, nodding his head. “You know what, I like it.” 

Chris shakes his head slightly, and presses a hand to his cheek. “Are you any good at football?”

“I play with my dog sometimes?...” She shrugs, embarrassment painting her cheeks slightly.

“Oh…Okay. Well, I wish you the best of luck.” He smiles.

“Thank you!” She takes a few steps away from the ball before running towards it and kicking it with all her might. Unfortunately, the ball narrowly misses the goal, and goes over the top.

“Ooh! That was good, I’ll give you that.” Chris exclaims, clapping his hands together in celebration.

Cal sighs, “That almost made it too.”

“I’m actually surprised I got it that close. I thought it’d end up behind me.” Y/n gasps as two hands cover her mouth. She was quite awful at football and really surprised herself.

“So, what’s the verdict?” Arthur looks towards Chris in anticipation. He knows Chris already likes her, he can see the look in his eye– it was the same in school.

“Yeah, you’re through.” He smiles. Freezy takes note that this is the widest he’s smiled so far.

“Really? Thank you!” Y/n does a little jump before waving goodbye. She walks over to the rest of the girls where they actually start to talk to her. She starts talking to Rose, an American streamer who flew all the way over to be on this video. She seemed to really like Chris and Y/n started to get a little nervous, Rose was very pretty.

“She seems really sweet.” Arthur whispers to Chris as you walk away.

“She’s really pretty too.” Chris blushes, sending a shy smile towards him.

Freezy perks up, “Uh-oh, Chris is falling already.” He laughs.

Soon after, they moved into round two. Twelve girls remained, Y/n included, and they had three free kicks. Chris, Freezy, and Arthur stood in a line a few metres in front of the goal while the girls aimed for it, the 3 of them often getting hit. 

“Hello Y/n.” Chris beams. Cal laughs at him while Arthur nudges his shoulder. 

“Hi again.” She smiles, waving to the 3 of them. She’s incredibly nervous. She worries her luck has run out and has a bad feeling she’s going to hit one of them.

“Any technique you're aiming for?”

“Um…To score? Hopefully” She laughs. Chris giggles, Arthur and Freezy give each other a look

“Okay, Well…Best of luck.” He smiles.

Y/n steps back from the ball, lets out a little breath, and kicks the ball. It goes over their heads, and misses the goal. “Aww, come on!”

“It’s alright, you got two more!”

She kicks the ball again, she uses less power and it rolls towards the goal slowly. Arthur lets out a little laugh and Chris hits his chest with a scowl. 

“One more, give it some power!”

“Okay.” She mutters to herself as she walks back to the line. “Just score one, please.” She whispers, closing her eyes.

Y/n lets out another little breath before kicking the ball with all her strength. She watches the ball fly through the air and…Hit Chris right in the groin.

Arthur screams, “OHH!” as Chris falls to the floor, Calfeezy struggling to breathe from laughter. 

“Oh my-Are you okay!?” Y/n quickly runs towards him, leaning down to check on him.

“There goes my ability to have kids.” He groans, rolling on the floor.

“I am so sorry, I didn’t even know I could do that-” She apologises as her face is flooded in guilt. 

“It’s okay, I’m okay.” Chris slowly gets up, Y/n helping him.

“Are you sure? I’m just gonna go-”

“No! You’re through.”

“Wait, what!?” Cal exclaims as Arthur gives the camera a look of bewilderment. 

“Really?” She gasps.

“Yeah, you’re really sweet.” Chris rubs his hand down her arm, soothing her slightly.

“Oh, thank you. Again, I’m really sorry.” Y/n face plants as she walks away, her face flushed with embarrassment.

“You are insane.” Arthur mutters.

“What can I say, I really like her.” Chris shrugs, then wincing

 For the third round, the nine remaining girls had to show a talent. Y/n watched girls throw and kick footballs, recite poems, and participate in an arm wrestling contest. She decided to do some gymnastics, as that was the only thing she could come up with. 

“Hello Y/n, what will you be showing us today?”

“I will be doing some gymnastics.” 

“Oh cool! Ready when you are.” 

She starts by doing a handstand, then holding it for a few seconds before falling into a bridge. She stands up and does a simple cartwheel, then falls into the splits. She hears the guys cheering her on and she giggles slightly. She decides to finish it off with a few flips, landing in front of the table. 

“Wow…” Chris stares in awe.

“That was so cool” Arthur exclaimed, shaking Chris slightly.

“It’s a yes!” 

“Really? Thank you! See you later.” You wave them off. Chris watches you walk off, subtly checking you out. Freezy notices this and laughs at him, smacking him over the head.

“So…It’s Y/n and Rose, right? Those 2 you were smiling the entire time.“

“Yeah…Yeah, it’s them.”

“So…We’ve made a decision and we’ve decided to put Y/n and Rose into the final.”

“Woo!” The rest of the girls clap.

Both girls did rock, paper, scissors to decide who was starting first and Y/n won. Chris held an Umbrella over her head as he led her to the goal.

“So uh…What baby names do you like?”

“I like classic ones like Charlotte, or Henry.”

“Oh nice. I like Heather.” 

“Aww, that’s really cute. How many kids do you want?”

“As many as my wife will have, I don’t mind.”

Y/n smiles and realizes she's at the line. She says a little goodbye and watches him walk away. 

Eventually, Rose had scored 2 out of her 4 tries, and Y/n only had scored 1 out of her three. If she wanted a chance, she’d have to score. Y/n stands in front of the ball and closes her eyes, and slows down her breathing. She shakes her hands, stretches her neck, and kicks the ball.

She watches the ball fly through the sky, miss the goalie, and hit the net! She hears the guys celebrate behind her and realises she’s back in the game. 

She then watches Rose hit the ball for the final time, and watches as it narrowly misses the goal. Y/n hears gasps next to her as someone shakes her shoulders.

“If you score this, you win! No pressure though.” Arthur smiles at her sheepishly. She nods, still in shock. Y/n turns to Chris as she walks away and he gives her a reassuring smile, and a thumbs up. 

Y/n turns to the ball and eyes up the goal. She lets out one final breath and kicks the ball. It feels like everything is going in slow-motion, and she can’t watch anymore. She turns around and covers her eyes, only opening them when all 3 guys scream in excitement. 

She turns back around to see the ball in the goal and she gasps. “I did it!” Chris runs over and gives her a hug, congratulating her in her ear. She hugs him back, and squeals in surprise when he picks her up. Chris then gives her a gold envelope with a lot of money inside.

“No-I can’t keep this.” Y/n tries to give him back the envelope but he puts up his hands

“Yes you can, you won.”

“No-” She tries.

“Yes.”

“A date with you is the prize.” She pleads.

He smiles, before pushing the envelope back in her hands.

The video then cuts to them both skipping into the distance, with cute music playing over the top. It then fades, the video ending.

Comments: usera: Hello!? The chemestry between the two? SO glad she won

userb: rose was robbed tbh

userc: DOES ANYONE KNOW IF THEY ACTUALLY WENT ON A DATE I NEED TO KNOW!!

userd: who's wating for arthurs ai generated comment?

usere: you could see how much chris liked her from the start. who knew he was such a blushy boy!?

userf: so cute! Hope to see her in other videos

userg: him picking her up at the end? they better be together

userh: her talking about men's mental health? chris, she's a keeper!

Well, I hope you like it. My first real fic, done!! also, ignore any mistakes, i'll go over them tomorrow x

[shanastoryteller]

tony gets kidnapped on his way to a business meeting or something and he goes with it because they’re in a pretty crowded area and he doesn’t want some innocent bystanders getting hurt in the scuffle. the team will notice eventually and his overprotective boyfriend captain american is going to 1. notice very quickly and 2. freak the fuck out, so he’s not really risking much here

also these kidnappers are sort of stupid and he’s not really worried about escaping later. except even though they’re stupid they mention things about the avengers and shield that they really shouldn’t know so tony decides to stick around to see if he can figure out if they lucked into hacking past his security (not likely) or if there’s some sort of mole

except the leader and the underlings get in an argument right in front of him because apparently they were supposed to capture captain america, not iron man, and the guy who grabbed him is like no, no, this is better! we have his boyfriend so we can lure him here instead!

meanwhile tony is just stating in disbelief that these idiots manage to string two thoughts together. there has to be mole. or someone else really in charge. or something.

and the leader is like fine whatever. he takes tony’s phone and opens the contacts and snorts, “this is what you have him saved us? pathetic”

tony looks at the contact labeled <3 <3 love of my life light in the dark wind beneath my wings <3 <3 and is sort of glad he’s gagged so he can’t say anything

he still doesn’t really know what’s going on and jarvis is still trying to hack their system an there’s no harm in sticking around a little longer since these people are. you know. idiots

except approximately fifteen minues later rhodey is busting down the wall and taking out all these guys in thirty seconds flat and tony slips out of the ropes that he’d undone about five minutes after being put into them (thanks nat) and pulls down the gag and says, “i thought you were on radio silence on a mission in ghana”

“i thought you could be trusted on your own, so it looks like we’re both wrong,” rhodey says. “what were you playing at?”

“i would have told you not to come if i’d known you’d get the message,” he protests. “i was working an angle here, okay, jarvis are you into their systems yet?”

“yes,” his trusty ai says from his phone from one of the kidnapper’s pockets. “tracing the origin of their financial backer now.”

“you really didn’t have to stay kidnapped for jarvis to do that,” rhodey points out, brushing him off and checking him for injuries.

tony shrugs. “i didn’t want to risk one of them getting away and tipping them off. take care of them i could. do it before they got a signal out without the suit? maybe not.”

this very reasonable discussion is interrupted by the rest of the avengers coming in swinging and then left blinking except for steve who feels the need to fuss over him while tony whines and complains and pretends he doesn’t love it

he says they were after steve anyway, he was just bait and steve frowns and is like well, why didn’t they try and contact me then? we knew something was wrong because of the stark industries security footage

and natasha, the sneak, has picked tony’s phone from the kidnapper’s pocket. he lunges for it but she skips back from him and says, “well it looks like they tried. they just messaged the wrong person”

steve takes the phone and sees the contact name and that the kidnappers sent the message we have your boyfriend and if you don’t do exactly what we say you’ll never see him again and is like. this is what rhodey is saved as in your phone?? what am i??

“look, the things is, it’s not like i actually use anyone’s contact, or look at it, i just tell jarvis who to call, so you really shouldn’t take this personally,” tony says.

steve types in his own number and stares in disbelief. “captain? i’m saved in your phone as CAPTAIN?”

“okay well when you gave me your number we weren’t dating and also you were being very mean to me at the time, so,” he says, resisting the urge to hide behind rhodey because he doesn’t think that will help

steve turns his gaze to rhodey. “what is tony saved as in your phone?”

“i really don’t think that’s relevant,” he answers, looking back at the hole in the wall like he’s considering flying out of it.

“jarvis, what’s tony saved as in rhodey’s contacts?” steve asks.

tony says, “j, don’t-“

“sir is saved in colonel rhodes’s contacts as baby,” jarvis answers.

clint is laughing so hard he’s going to break a rib. natasha raises an eyebrow, which is about the same thing

steve’s face is pure betrayal

“it’s because he’s an infant,” rhodey says, “and very needy and he throws up on me a lot.”

“hey!” tony scowls. “i haven’t done that in years!”

“and when you were texted about your boyfriend being kidnapped, you just knew it was tony?” steve asks.

rhodey shrugs. “well, who else would it be?”

even steve doesn’t have an answer to that

“it’s purely platonic,” tony says reassuringly, “carol would scratch my eyes out.”

steve scowls and sulks until tony changes his contact name

except now he’s in tony’s phone as captain handsome. he tells himself it’s an upgrade

[warping-realities]

Animal I Have Become

Alright, I promised I wouldn’t write any more. But this one’s short and I cranked it out in less than two hours. The inspiration is obvious for anyone who’s a fan of "Karate Kid"/"Cobra Kai," since I just finished the first part of the last season. And for those worried about my studies, don’t sweat it—I was on my work shift, which I never use to study because it seems to attract all kinds of chaos. Anyway! If any quick ideas pop up, I’ll post them, but no more long stories packed with plots for a while.

I only agreed to go back to the place of my humiliation for one reason: Mikey was my best friend throughout high school until he decided, right in our senior year, to join the karate team of the new P.E. assistant teacher. Then, like magic, the skinny kid with a sharp sense of humor who could discuss everything from experimental physics to pre-Columbian American history, the guy I knew so well, was replaced by this arrogant musclehead who struggled with math and was totally incapable of having a history discussion that didn’t revolve around bragging about how today badass America was, and whose idea of a joke involved talking about tits or letting out a stinky fart. Apparently, it was a courtesy of the insane amounts of protein he started chugging to maintain his suddenly beefed-up physique. How the hell was it possible to gain that much muscle in such a short time? Maybe steroids, but the one time I asked about that, I ended up stuck under his stinky armpit. And what was up with that new nickname? “Snake!” How pretentious was that? But apparently, everyone in the group had a “badass nickname.” Ah, the joys of the standard American jock… Still, I tried to hold on to some of our friendship; God, did I try.

I even agreed to join a couple of those damn team practices, knowing damn well I didn’t have the physique, the skills, and maybe most importantly, the real desire to be there. I ended up getting ridiculed by everyone, including my so-called best friend.

I should’ve never talked to him again after that week of “practices.” But, being the idiot I am, all it took was a poorly worded apology full of grammatical mistakes that my brain refuses to recreate:

“Sorry, bro, the sensei got pissed at the guys when he heard their jokes about the size of your… well, you know. He wants you to meet us in the locker room today so we can apologize the right way. If you don’t show up, he’s gonna make us skip training for the whole week. Come on, please, for our friendship!”

… and there I was in that locker room. I should’ve left those morons without practice, but I decided to be the good samaritan.

Walking into that crap hole, what a surprise! It was empty. The pungent stench of sweat filled the room and humidity on the walls made it feel like the locker room was actually a beast whose musk drips off its body after a vigorous workout. But that didn’t matter; apparently, either the coach didn’t give a damn about what happened, which I should’ve figured, since he was just an older version of the ogre crew he trained, or he didn’t even know what went down, and I was about to be the victim of another lame prank.

Thinking about the danger, I quickly turned to leave. Then I noticed… on the other side of the room, hanging on one of the lockers… had that been there before? A piece of red fabric… oh, of course. A red gi from the team; they even gave themselves a pretentious name…. The fight practice was happening right at that moment. It was hard to think about it. I said so much crap about the team on TikTok and Instagram, tarnishing the reputation of the strong and disciplined image they worked so hard to create outside those walls that they probably hated my guts now. All those arrogant alpha dogs were arrogant and obnoxious. What the hell was I thinking trying to fit in? Nerdy little dudes like me didn’t really belong there. Even the jokes about my dick; if I were one of them, I’d just throw a punch or come back with some barbaric, macho comeback and everything would be cool. But I wasn’t like that, and my frustration with all of it was proof of that.

I never really liked the Gi. That red color always seemed way too aggressive, and for some reason, it always looked oversized on me, with sleeves and pants that were way too long and baggy. I had to wrap the belt around me twice just to keep it from falling off my skinny frame. Apparently, it never crossed the sensei’s mind that a little guy like me would have the audacity to try to join his team. Thinking about it, it wasn’t that I didn’t like the Gi; I hated it. It represented everything I despised about that bunch of trolls and also my lost friendship.

I stepped back and slowly turned my head back to the locker with the gi. Did it belong to someone? normally they were used by any of the team's bodies, one size fits all, or almost, when I was still there... anyway... after training they went straight to the laundry before returning for the next training session. Not that any washing would really get rid of the complete animalistic musk that infested their fabric. So why would someone leave it here?

Not my fucking problem. Probably just a spare or something. I think, walking resolutely toward the door, and I crack it open slightly. I turn back. I guess there’s no one using it. That means someone’s gonna grab it soon. Something’s bugging me. But what is it? I get closer, the musk intensifying. That gi definitely isn’t new and hasn’t been washed recently. And what’s this? There’s a note along with it. I sit on the nearby bench to read.

“Sorry, bro, today’s practice was super important, and the sensei didn’t want to wait for you. But he left your gi here. Put it on and come train; this time it’ll be different, I promise. Trust me, for old times’ sake.”

Old times? Maybe… maybe I should give it a shot. God, what a weird thought. Why would I want to do that? But while I’m thinking about it, my feet are already moving me to stand up and head toward the locker, while my hands are grabbing my shirt and pulling it up. I should stop. I need to stop. I should leave now, but the shirt comes off and goes over my head, landing on the floor. My pants are unbuttoned, and soon they join the shirt. I really should stop. Why do I want this? It’d be better to stop, but soon I’m in my boxers holding the gi in front of me. First, I put one leg in... then the other... then the arms, and then the belt… why is it black? I wonder, confused… but then that consuming need fades away.

I look at myself. As always, it doesn’t fit. I look like a kid wearing his dad’s suit at some event. I sit back down on the bench. Alright, that strange urgency is satisfied. So now I can just take this damn thing off!

But I don’t want to, for some strange reason. I feel more comfortable than ever. It’s like that mismatched uniform was made for me. My delicate hands wander over the ill-fitting outfit, the long sleeves sliding down my shoulders. I try to adjust them back into place, but they stop midway as I start to feel the material against my skin. The feeling of power it gives me… the feeling of strength… was it really this good when I was practicing? No, definitely not; if it was, I wouldn’t have quit. Man, this feels amazing... I feel the weight of the gi on me, both real and metaphorical… the weight of what it represents… my hands roam over its wide shape… it’s not just a uniform… it’s an armor… a sacred cloak… this is so cool… I can hear them in the training room… too bad I can’t join them... I wish I could... and they asked... didn’t they? I shift a bit on the bench and let my arms fall to my sides. Weird, I didn’t seem that far from the ground before. I feel cozy; the sweat smell doesn’t bother me, the whole atmosphere feels familiar, even comforting, like coming home after a long day and sitting in your favorite chair. I feel dizzy, like I’m about to fall asleep...

My rational mind, or what’s left of it, doesn’t notice. But unconsciously, I do… my muscles are slowly expanding, my skinny body pushing against the bench while my hands gently massage my slightly protruding belly that’s slowly flattening, the little bit of fat there seeming to be sucked in with every circle my hand makes. My shoulders are also widening, getting broader, as I grunt happily, a tingling sensation creeping up my body.

Feeling that, my eyes suddenly open, a jolt waking me up a bit from that stupor. What the hell was that? I look at my belly, and it’s widening as I’m hit with shock. I’m getting ripped! My hands trace the outline of my abs as the little muscle blocks there grow and harden, turning into six distinct shapes. As I stare at that in fascination, the stupor hits me harder.

The rigid stones of my abs aren’t the only things getting harder. My arms and legs are swelling with new muscle, keeping pace with my ever-growing body. And, well... I gently pat my groin. It’s definitely there too… a solid extra four inches, and still soft… As my body keeps expanding, the sensation turns pleasurable, like scratching an itch that’s been bugging you for ages, so I let it wash over me. My mouth opens in a gasp, drool spilling out as I pant like a dog. For some reason, it’s easier to breathe like this. Maybe because my nose is breaking and reforming a few times without me even noticing? As the drool runs down my pecs, I bring my hand to them and feel them grow, making my hands look tiny in comparison to the two meat packages they become. I shake my hand a bit, sending the drool flying, and with each shake, I see it grow too, turning into a massive paw, perfect for smashing some unsuspecting fool. Looking at that seems… really good… and I laugh. And out of nowhere, the other hand starts growing too, while my feet expand like crazy. My size eight shoes will never fit those paws; what size are they now? 14? Or maybe 15? A good kick with those surfboards and you’re down for the count… cool… hehehe...

No, not cool, not cool at all! This damn outfit is doing something to me! I stand up and grab the gi by the sleeves at my shoulders, ready to rip it off, and then…. I fall back onto the bench, my eyes unfocused again as a sudden wave of pleasure hits me like a tsunami. Yeah, a torrent of testosterone floods my body as my jawline becomes prominent, my chin broadens, and little tufts of freshly trimmed hair cover my chest and armpits. My mouth opens again, drool spilling out as my neck thickens, and my Adam’s apple sticks out, while my forehead becomes more pronounced, with low brows creating a scowl that makes it look like I’m always ready to fight, and my hair gets shaved on the sides, completing the look of a total douchebag. I try to care, I try to fight... fight... good… fights is good... no… not fight like this... I start to lift my arm, now powerful and making the gi look slightly tight… my biceps must be huge… hehhe… then it drops again… I look at my altered reflection in the mirror and see someone who could easily roll with Samue… Snake and the other guys… who knows, maybe now it’ll end… maybe I’ll finally break free from this stupor and get out of here… But then the real nightmare begins, as a web of powerful veins snakes through the swollen muscles of my body, a myriad of intrusive thoughts starts to slowly shape my mind, no matter how hard I try to resist. They break through my defenses with such force that my illusions shatter quickly as I start to forget. Memories of long hours of studying slowly morph into party after party with my friends, working out with them, training with them, watching my body swell and grow; time spent on pop culture becomes time spent watching football, hours and hours perfecting my college resume turns into hours and hours of sweat and sacrifice perfecting my fighting technique to the point of perfection. Just like my friends. Just like the sensei taught us to be. And we owe it all to sensei. Especially since he’s gonna figure out a way to get me into college, get all of us, in every corner of the country, ensuring that his teachings are passed on. Just one of us in any student group or, better yet, a fraternity, and boom, a new crew of brothers ready to spread the word… ha… word… funny… as if we needed to talk… no… our way is the way of the fist!

Shit, I can’t believe I slept through practice! Sensei is gonna rip me a new one! I shouldn’t have hooked up with those hot girls from college with Snake last night… dude, I couldn’t miss that hookup… I’ll just have to take the sensei’s punishment like a man… and I AM THE MAN!”

I stand up and groan, my voice deeper, with a bit of a growl. I turn toward the door, bracing for sensei’s yelling… Eh, screw him. He’ll put on his show about my tardiness, and I’ll play my part as the remorseful kid, and everything will be fine. It’s not like I skipped out or, God forbid, quit the team; I can’t even imagine the things he’d do to a damn deserter. I stretch a bit, admire myself in the mirror… Mad Dawg, you’re so swole… damn… you big, hot son of a bitch!

And then I finally walk toward the training room to join my brother’s in arms. Today’s practice is gonna be awesome; I can feel it, but honestly, it always is; I was born for this.

[skirter01]

AU: Dukes got a strange new teacher, Jason has a weird neighbour, Dick helped a poor civillian with two broken legs, and Tim's got a bad feeling about the knew Wayne Enterprises employee. Who knew they'd turn out to be the same person? Or... Dannys stuck in Gotham, how, why, when? To be confirmed, although, he's positive its something to do with a certain time-turning asshole. But now he's got bats on his tail and a serious case of the munchies. Good thing Sam and Tucker learned early on to slap a tracker on his phone.

----

Smol Teaser

Dick stumbled forwards, chain rattling around his foot as it pulled taunt. He hit the deck.

“No!”

Duke closed his eyes – and for a moment, he wondered what it would’ve been like if he’d just stayed home like he’d planned to – as Danny descended, mouth split into a feral smile and scythe in motion.

Then, “Bang!”

Dukes’ ears screamed as something exploded, a sonic boom erupting somewhere to his right. A fiery green blast flashed through the air, smacking into Danny like a sledgehammer and sending him hurtling into the concrete pillar in a blast of dust and debris.

Duke took in a sharp breath, eyes fettering over where the teacher landed. His eyes locked on Dick, who was staring over his shoulder from his place on the floor.

“Ha! Bullseye!” Duke startled at the voice and whipped to his right. “I am literally a God.”

Had he been transported to Men in Black right now? Because there was no other explanation for what this was right now. The owner of the voice was a young African American, with neat cornrows and dressed in a suit straight out of MIB, save for the sunglasses which were substituted for a slick pair of black framed glasses.

With a huff, the newcomer hefted an enormous smoking bazooka to rest between his shoulder blade and collarbone. He looked over the room with a grin. “Worry not ladies, knight with shining armour reporting for duty.” He proclaimed with a cheeky grin and a wink, patting the weapon’s steel side fondly, “No, need to thank me. Just doing my job.”

There was a click, and the stranger froze, “Who in the hell are you?” Jason growled through his modulator, stepping out of the shadows to the left of new guy, pistol aimed for a head shot.

The stranger’s eyes slid, acknowledging Jason’s gun from his peripheral. “Sure…” He drawled cautiously, ‘shoot the man with the bazooka. Do it.”

Jason pulled out his second gun. Head titling in challenge.

New guy grinned. “Geez, calm your tits. Names Foley, Tucker Foley.” He reached into his blazer pocket, pulling out a badge. “FBI”

The FBI?

Jason lowered his pistols. “The fuck is the FBI doing in Gotham?” Duke would like to know the same thing.

Tucker shrugged, “Shits and gigs” he said, dropping the bazooka from his shoulder, and catching its nose on his foot before he propped it up against the closest wall. He swivelled, jabbing a finger over at the downed spectre. “Mostly that troublemaker though. Do you mind if I–actually, why am I even asking you?” He stalked over to the cracked concrete pillar and jabbed at foot at Dukes downed teacher, shifting his lifeless body “Oi, Danny.”

Duke didn’t know how to break the news. “Um, Mr. Foley? He’s not–Well, he was killed by something, we don’t know what exactly. I don’t think he’s–yeah…Sorry.” Ever so eloquently put.

Tucker raised a brow, “Are you trying to tell me he’s dead?”

Duke resisted the urge to point out that this Tucker guy did actually shoot him into the wall with a bazooka. He was dead before anyway, but still.

“Obviously,” Jason grumbled, crossing his arms. “Some occult thing.”

“Right.” Tucker’s face twisted into a slight frown, and he nudged the body again. “Danny, stop foxing and get up.”

There was a groan and Duke took an involuntary step back.  

Tucker prodded Danny again. “C’mon, up and at ‘em.”

“5 more minutes.” Danny rolled over onto his side. “M’kay?”

Dick’s mouth was wide open at the scene. “Are you serious right now?”

Danny popped his head up, hair and face covered in dust, his eyes narrowed. “You’d think coming at them with a scythe would scare them off, right Tuck?”

“I told you it wasn’t going to work.” A feminine voice came from the doorway, and a woman stepped into the room. “But please, feel free to be disappointed.” She was dressed in back cargo pants, and a cropped purple tee, dark hair neatly braided down her back. She leaned against the door, “You missed our anniversary.” She said pointedly towards Danny.

Danny dropped his head back to the floor. “Can we go back to when I was just a lifeless corpse?”

Tucker gwuaffed. “You’re already a lifeless corpse, there’s nothing to go back to, stupid."

[msbigredmachine]

Checkmate - A Roman Reigns One-Shot

The new Smackdown GM reminds the Tribal Chief who’s boss, in more ways than one. The aftermath of the highly entertaining WrestleMania 40 Press Conference.

Pairing: Roman Reigns/OC

Word Count: 5.9k

Warning: Smut

Click here if you want to be on my tag list. If I’ve forgotten anyone please let me know so I can add you.

-----

Answer your fuckin phone.

She's been expecting his text message, to add to the half-dozen missed calls he's already deluged her phone with. His WrestleMania plans were thrown into disarray tonight and for some reason he thinks she has something to do with it.

Too bad she doesn't give a fuck what he thinks.

I'm calling you one more time. You better pick up.

So bossy. Always has been. But he knows damn well who the boss really is. When her phone springs to life again with his beautiful face snarling at her through the screen, she rolls onto her back with a heavy sigh, smooths down her oversized t-shirt and presses the green button, waiting to hear his deep voice on the other end of the line.

"What the fuck, Joy!"

Damn. Even when he's pissed, he sounds sexy as hell; it's the same menacing timbre he adopts when he's folding her up and turning her out. The memory makes her hot between her thighs.

"Reigns." Her voice is calm and steady despite the thumps of her heart, calling out to him even when she doesn't want it to.

"Why was Cody there tonight? Hmm?" he demands, his temper simmering beneath his words. "I coulda sworn he agreed to step aside for Dwayne. Why he change his mind? Did you have something to do with it? What'chu say to him, huh?"

She extends her left hand to inspect her ombre-colored acrylic nails. "Calm your tits. I don't control Cody's actions, I'm Smackdown's GM, not Raw's. He won the Rumble and he has the right to choose who he wants."

"Don't patronize me, Joy! Rock and I were a done deal!"

"You sound tense, Reigns. Paranoid, even," she smirks, "Worried you can't beat the American Nightmare a second time? Besides, you heard the fans...they wanna see you and him-"

"Bullshit!" he cuts her off. "This wasn't about no fans. You wanted this and I know why. You saw the pictures of me and Venita over Christmas and you been in your feelings ever since."

It's a predictable, childish response, and though there's some truth to it, she dismisses its immature delivery. "What you do with your bitch is your business. You are marrying her, after all," she says coolly, hearing him bristle at the other end.

"See? We ain't had a civil conversation since those photos got out. I know exactly how you feel about her, so tell me I'm lying."

"Don't ever question my ability to separate business from pleasure. You are walking proof of that," Joy warns him. "My problem is with you questioning my authority, with your silly little threats and your temper tantrums. You did it leading up to the Rumble and I'll be damned if I let it happen again. In case you forgot, I run Smackdown now. You work for me. The Mania match is scheduled, so your ass better show up in Philly, you understand me?"

A long, tense moment crawls by.

"Are you done?" he says, sounding bored.

"No. Whatchu gon' do about it?" Joy challenges.

"You looked hot as fuck in that dress tonight."

She rolls her eyes. Of course he deflects. But it's not going to work this time. She wants him to feel as frustrated as she has been over the last couple of months. "Ain't your fiancée over there with you?" she retorts, her tone clipped and snarky.

"She's in the Hamptons. And even if she was here, that ain't never stopped us anyways," he calls her out.

"Whatever." As flippant as she's tried to be about it, she is growing tired of the same old song and dance between her and Roman. She's allowed him to juggle her and Venita, and she blames herself for not leaving him alone when he chose to stay with her. Perfect, pretty little naive Venita. The IG influencer extraordinaire whose only two cares in life are her follower count and the picture-perfect aesthetics of the 'Roman & Venita' brand.

Whatever helps her sleep at night, I guess.

Joy had wondered just how perfect they really were the first time she saw the couple backstage in the Thunderdome, with Venita looking bored as hell the entire time she was there. It was clear that she had no interest in Roman's world, and Joy told him just that. Certain she would be fired on her first day for opening her big mouth, he had merely laughed and agreed, and it was then she found out she was his producer for the upcoming Bloodline saga. Onscreen, they created magic with the now legendary Tribal Chief storyline, but the magic they soon began making behind the scenes and between the sheets was even better and way too hot for TV.

She's never had time to be ashamed of inserting herself in someone else's relationship, mainly because her career has accelerated to the top of WWE's creative hierarchy. Plus, she's not about to give up such great sex, not with a stroke game that superb and a libido as high as her ambitions. Sometimes she wishes she doesn't have to share him, but she accepts that she can't have it all. After all, she already lords over the A-show as Smackdown's General Manager, meaning she is virtually unstoppable now, with money, power, and most importantly, the balls of the biggest star in the industry in the palm of her hand. Literally.

But he's pissing her off right now.

"Look, I want us to talk. Come see me." He's turned on the charm but Joy refuses to fall for it.

"What I want is an apology for your constant disrespect ever since I became GM," she replies, "I told you; I don't give a damn that we're fucking. Do not make an enemy out of me, Roman."

The Tribal Chief sighs heavily. "Look. You're right. Let me make it up to you. Come to my room so we can talk things out."

"No. You just want pussy."

"That too," he snickers.

Joy bites her lip as she idly circles her middle and ring finger over her pussy lips. She had no prior plans to touch herself, but listening to his deep, haughty voice has sparked a throbbing between her thighs that needs urgent attention. "Right. Well, I don't feel like leaving my room. This bed is way too comfy," she emphasizes.

"Mine is comfier. Are you alone?" he asks.

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Woman, you better not be givin' my pussy to nobody else," he growls, making her laugh.

"You're hilarious. My pussy is mine and mine alone, no matter how good you beat it and eat it," she reminds him, her smile widening as she hears him taking deep breaths, trying to compose himself.

"I see that you get off on testing my patience. Does that turn you on, baby girl? Hmm? Does it make that pussy wet? I bet you wet right now." His voice drops an entire octave at that last part, and she bites her lip to keep from moaning when her slick honey pools around her fingers.

"I might be," she gasps.

"Then bring your ass over here and let me take care of it."

Joy huffs, determined to resist him for as long as she can. "I can take care of myself, Reigns. Matter of fact, I'm doing just that as we speak..."

"Aww, babe, don't be touchin' on my pussy without me," he grumbles. His frustration makes her grin in triumph. She holds all the cards and she's enjoying listening to him squirm.

"I wanna see you, beautiful. We ain't been together in so long. I miss you," Roman continues.

"Is that right?"

"Uh huh. Don't you miss me, Joy? Don't you miss this dick? It definitely misses you. Listen..."

The slippery, sticky sound that follows his words is unmistakable, and her heart pounds in her chest at his soft groan. The image of him lying in his bed, probably naked, jerking off to her, makes her stomach flip and her pussy spasm beneath her fingers. The tension crackles over the phone, simmering with the same intensity as though he were right there in person.

"Hear that, baby? That's how bad I need you. Come over." His silky-smooth whisper finally loosens the last thread of control she has held onto tightly up to this point. She knows that ultimately, she won't deny him...she never does because she can't, and he knows that.

"Gimme ten minutes," she relents.

"Make it five."

"I said, ten. Text me your room number." Cutting the call before he can respond, she leaves her bed and searches for a couple of accessories to wear. After a quick check in the mirror, she picks up her phone and sees he's already sent her his room number. The thought of what is about to transpire hastens her flight out of the room, the dead of night no match for her rapidly burning need for him. She has since accepted that she will always need him, too.

His door swings open seconds after she knocks, and a surprised yelp escapes her when he yanks her inside and tugs her flush against him. He is barefoot, in gray sweatpants slung low on his hips, and shirtless to show off the majesty of his massive, inked chest. Joy meets his loaded stare head-on as he drinks in her own appearance. She is in one of his old Nike hoodies that she swiped from him and never gave back, with the open zipper in the middle showing the swell of her breasts underneath. Long pastel-pink stockings run up to her brown thighs with gray Crocs on her feet. As his eyes crawl hungrily up and down her frame, her body thrums with realization at just how hard he is, his sizable erection poking her lower belly. Despite their back-and-forth, it's no mistake that she intoxicates him, and that power thrills her.

"Like what you see, champ?" she asks, staring him down for his response.

Roman's moan is ragged as he clamps his huge paw around her throat and covers her mouth with his, and she instantly melts in his arms, her nerves alight from his touch. She is swept up in the softness of his lips, the sweetness of his taste that contrasts erotically with his aggressiveness and the eager, hungry flicking of their tongues as the kiss heats up. He feels wonderfully warm and smells incredible like he always does.

Reluctantly, his mouth retreats from hers and he tucks his face in the hollow of her neck. He nuzzles his cheek against her skin and inhales the fragrance he's missed so much, her hushed moan caressing the depths of his senses.

"You a vindictive little bitch, you know that?" he mumbles, pressing a kiss to her throat.

"Only when I wanna be," she hums, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

"You musta loved watching me lose my cool tonight," he adds, "I saw the look in your eyes on that stage when I got into it with those two bums. That shit turned you on. Your nipples were hard through your dress. And I'm sure that pussy was soaked."

Truth be told, seeing his cool calm composure collapse, with his long hair flying and cocky countenance as he talked shit to Cody and Seth, made her so wet she had to run into a restroom stall to take off her panties, forcing her to go commando for the rest of the night. She'll never admit it though; she never likes to give him the upper hand. "How do you know?" she challenges.

"Cuz I know you. I know everything about your body, sweetheart," Roman brags, "I know what you like, and I know you love testing me cuz it makes me wanna fuck the attitude outta you."

"So what are you waiting for?" She licks her glossy lips, full and pouting, goading him with her bedroom eyes. But the Tribal Chief can feel her body trembling, betraying her bravado. This time he has the upper hand and he plans to exploit it.

He pulls her hoodie over her head and his eyes immediately drop to the thin beaded belly chain adorning her slender waist, accentuating her delicious curves. Desire gleams in his brown irises at the sight of her bare breasts, the fleshy mounds popping out at him, her nipples hard and aching for his touch. "Fuck, you're sexy," he murmurs. He massages each one then leans down to lick and suck on them, his tongue and hands working together to pleasure her.

"Ooh, that feels good," she moans, placing her hair behind her ear to get a good look at him feasting on her nipples. Ever the multitasker, he grabs her white lace thong at the hem, yanking impatiently until it rips from her body. Joy bursts out laughing at his savagery. "I knew you was gon' fuck up my panties," she jokes.

"I replace 'em, don't I?" He abandons her breasts and kisses her again, this time sliding both hands down to her round backside and lifting her up to press her against the wall. The friction of their bare chests pressed together, nipples grazing, her legs wrapping around his waist and bringing them even closer, builds the desire. He grinds his throbbing hardness against the open heat between her thighs, and she gets him back by reaching inside his sweatpants and grabbing his dick, stroking the turgid flesh as it jumps in her grasp. "Mmm, baby you're so hard. Put it in me," she orders.

"Not yet," he cuts her off, his huge biceps flexing as he carries her across the lavish suite. "Come over here, you little slut. Come suck my dick in front of this great view of the Strip."

Next to the expansive window is an L-shaped sofa large enough for a good trip to Pound Town. As he takes off his pants, Joy can't stop herself from drooling at his towering form. Six foot three, bronzed Adonis with chocolate eyes, luscious hair, massive and muscled and all man, with a long, hefty cock pulsing between those powerful thighs. He looks like a demigod in all his glory, and she venerates at the altar of his beauty.

Roman settles himself at the other end of the sofa and eyes her down with a smug smirk. Tucking his hands behind his head, he spreads his legs. "Crawl to me," he commands, his smirk widening when she advances towards him on all fours. Joy is a work of art, with nicely sized titties, round hips, thick, mouth-watering thighs and ass and that fat pussy he dreams about at least once a day. Every part of her is real and silky soft to the touch. It's been years since he first tasted her, and he is still drunk off it. She is a potent drug he can't wean himself off of, and frankly, he doesn't want to. He loves Venita, but for all her prowess in bed, she does not possess a fraction of the wild thrill that encapsulates the woman before him. He wants Joy, needs her like he needs to breathe, and he always will. He will seek his fiancée's forgiveness when that day comes.

Joy slowly slithers up the length of his body, ignoring his erection for now as she straddles him and plants a long, wet kiss on his mouth, the sound of their lips meeting and parting filling the suite. Her hands caress the tight muscles of his body, having memorized all the spots that make his breath quicken and his pulse spike. He puts his hands on her hips, but she seizes them and pins them above his head without breaking stride, laughing when he moans out with frustration. She catches his tongue as it slides into her mouth, and she proceeds to suck on it, her head bobbing like she is sucking his dick. Saliva quickly gathers around their joined mouths as she feasts on only his tongue. It's the messiest, sloppiest, hottest kiss they've ever shared, and the tension is reaching fever pitch as a result.

"You want me to suck your dick like this, baby?" Joy asks. When Roman nods, she tugs his lower lip between her teeth. "Say it," she orders, her fingers digging into his wrists. Her hips are rolling too, moving in a seductive, serpentine dance that short circuits every fiber of his being. He can't move even if he wants to; his senses are pinned down to the bed along with his body. The Tribal Chief is helpless, forced to endure the sweetest agony, with the head of his dick grazing her wet slit and driving him insane. An uncharacteristic whimper deserts his lips as his blood pumps with agitation.

"Yes," he responds breathlessly.

"What's the magic word?" Joy presses. The mocking smirk gracing her pretty features should infuriate him, but it only arouses him instead.

"Please," he concedes, knowing full well that she will drag out the torture until he succumbs. With a triumphant smile and one more intoxicating kiss, she finally takes pity on him and makes the descent down his heaving body, soothing his butterscotch skin with soft kisses. As she nears his groin, his eyes squeeze shut, and he takes deep breaths to remain focused.

"You think you're in control, toying with two women's lives." Joy shakes her head. "Hell no. I'm in control, Roman. I own you. You're mine to do with however I want. And you know the best part?"

She closes her mouth over the tip of him, giving it a gentle suckle before driving home her point. "Deep down, you love that shit."

Roman merely grins. The power has shifted back in his possession and she doesn't even know it. He shows her when he strikes with lightning speed, grabbing her and twisting her around so her legs are on either side of his head. Stunned, Joy grabs his thighs to steady herself, as he's already grabbing handfuls of her ass while using his tongue to part her lower lips. Her body jerks from the warm fat wetness of his tongue lashing around her sensitive crevices, softening her up with his saliva. Heady with desire, she just lays there with his dick in her hand, too overwhelmed to do anything else but moan with pleasure.

A sudden, stinging smack on her left ass cheek jolts her back to earth.

"You gon' suck me off or what?" Roman demands impatiently before refocusing on his own task.

Regaining her senses, her mouth engulfs his length, her head bobbing with her wrist twisting around the base. She cups his balls and rolls them in her other hand, making him groan wantonly. Her mouth is warm and her pouty lips are tight around him, sliding up and down with her tongue trailing saliva along his hard flesh. He retaliates by spreading her pussy open and holding her down on him, sucking and licking her folds with rapid strokes and enjoying her sexy throaty sounds that mingle with the sloppy slurps of his mouth on her. The increased pressure on her sensitive pussy has her moaning and squirming against his face, which in turn floods his tongue with her taste. His appreciative groans while licking her in rhythm with her rolling hips sends shivers down her spine.

Mustering all the strength she possesses, Joy frees herself from his clutches and crawls back down his body, her juices smearing a slick trail along his torso as she guides his length inside her with impressive quickness. She moans out loud as he fills her, her head tipping forwards as his big palms paw at the supple flesh of her backside. Roman groans at the wetness that welcomes his dick as it disappears into the warm canal of her pussy. "Yeah, fuck me good, baby girl," he growls, slapping her ass in encouragement.

Holding onto his ankles, she rocks up and down his erection, winding her hips with each drop down to take him as deep as she can. His husky moans and his tight grip on her waist empower her. Joy seizes every chance she can to turn him into putty in her hands. Because the motherfucker never likes to relinquish control, always determined to break her down into submission; whether it's with his God-gifted tongue, or his huge hands choking her, or with that big ol' dick, fucking her against the wall of her office, bending her over the table in his locker room at TV, or making her ride him in the bowels of his private jet. It's fun taking control from him and showing him who's boss, on the job and especially outside of it.

"You love it when I ride this big dick dontcha? Got you deep in this pussy just the way you like it," she purrs haughtily, upping the ante by reaching down to grip his cock.

The Tribal Chief realizes she's on demon time to be stroking his dick while riding him. She looks so sexy on top of him, in them pretty waist beads and stockings. Her thick hips roll back lavishly, her even thicker ass presses down on his pelvis, grinding and twisting and nudging him all the way up in her creamy pussy. Damn. He loves the way she fucks him. Baby girl has mad skills and a juicy pussy, and he is glad to be the one she uses them on. "Go faster, baby. Bounce on my dick," he cajoles, massaging her ass cheeks and groaning softly when she obeys, "Uh-huh, just like that, babe, unnnh..."

She can almost see the look of pleasure on his face. She can definitely hear him as he tugs at the soft flesh of her butt, lost to the depths of her warm wetness, in the erotic sounds of their sex noises and their slapping skin filling the big room as she bounces on his dick. Another moan escapes her, her head tilting back as he angles his hips to make his dick reach that oh-so-sweet spot inside her. He smacks her ass again, earning yet another whimper from her lips as her juices trickle down his length down to his balls. Her thighs are starting to burn from her efforts, but she can't stop, not when she's so close...

"Uhhhn baby, I'm comin'," she gasps, leaning back to rest her hands on his chest as she gyrates her ass on him. Roman's breathing is as heavy as hers, his fingers digging into her hips to steer her movements. The sensations are overwhelming as her walls contract around him, her pussy moistening as she leans forward again and rides him even harder. Seconds later, a flooding orgasm bursts inside her with such power that it wracks her entire body with tremors. Through the thick fog of numbing pleasure, she hears Roman's surprised grunt as her cum leaks all over his groin area.

"Damn baby, you nuttin' all over me. I knew you been needin' this dick," he taunts her.

Truth be told, she wasn't expecting to come this hard, but fuck it always feels so good when she does. "Oh my god," her voice trembles, her hand clutching the headrest to keep from collapsing in a heap.

Roman spanks her again. "I ain't tell you to stop. Keep goin'..."

"Hol' up, you got me shakin' so much," Joy groans, her thighs still quivering. He is still deep inside her, his dick throbbing impatiently inside the warmth of her tight walls.

"If I take this shit over, you won't be able to walk in the morning, that's a promise," he threatens.

"Then quit talkin' and do that shit," she bites back, glaring at him over her shoulder.

"A'ight then." He pulls her backwards on top of him, with her back to his chest. He grabs her legs and holds her up by her knees, thrusting upwards into her, reveling in her surprised yelp that quickly dissolves into loud moans. This new position feels so good that she's whining and making noises that only seem to turn him on as he strokes in and out of her pussy from underneath, making her body react and remind her exactly why she's not leaving his trifling ass anytime soon.

"Uhnnn yes, Roman, fuck me," she whimpers over and over, her mind spiraling, her eyes rolling back. He is relentless, pulling her legs further back and pounding her faster, sparking another intense orgasm. She squirts so hard that she's left dizzy and boneless, causing her to slip off his sweat-slick body, a shivering crumpled mess. She curls up into a fetal position and gives in to the intense euphoria of her release. With a proud snicker, the Tribal Chief caresses all over her body, then rolls her onto her stomach, spreading her thighs to observe the damage he's inflicted on her pussy.

"We ain't finished," he informs her, tapping his hard, slickened dick against her soaked, puffy folds. She tenses and arches her back on instinct, anticipating his invasion. He smiles behind her, grabs her hips, and drags her limp body up and onto his hard, waiting dick. The moans they exhale together is a symphony that serenades the pair as he continues his hard, deep thrusts. With her hips in the air and her backside in his calloused palms, she is at his mercy yet again, and her vision swims at the feeling of him practically in her spine. She knows just how deep that big ass dick of his can get inside her, but it never fails to wipe her mind blank when it does.

"Oh, fuck," she mumbles into the couch, her face sinking further in it as he drills into her hard and rough. It hurts so good that it's quite literally taking her breath away. "Shit, fuck Roman, wait, wait," she pleads, reaching behind to push his thigh and forcing him to halt his movements.

"Too much?" he asks, laughing as he presses gentle kisses along her spine, feeling her body shiver from the contact. "That's what you get when your pussy is so good. You was talkin' all that shit earlier, best believe I ain't lettin' up, baby girl. Who owns who now, huh," he says, swatting her ass and starting again.

"You're a cocky asshole," she moans shakily, defiance swirling in her lust-filled gaze.

Roman's smirk is diabolical and panty-wetting. "And don't you forget it. Now shut up and take this dick."

Joy winces as his hand curves around her throat, the other clutching her lower hip as he fucks her prone body into the sofa. She clings to the cushions and her sanity with everything she has, tears filling her eyes as he pummels her with hurried, lethal thrusts, making her ass jiggle and her pussy drip some more as she's dragged dangerously close to the precipice. He pushes the arch out of her back and flips her around, sliding right back inside before she can regain her bearings and dropping his body weight on her. His intoxicating cologne surrounds her as their mouths crush together in a hungry, toe-curling kiss. Incoherent moans leave them both as he rolls his hips against hers, nestling his dick right there, eking a sob out of her as she falls apart again.

"Aww, f-f-fuuuck..."

"I know baby, I know it feels so good," He kisses away her tears and then her cheek, his fingers curling over her breast in a light squeeze which in turn squeezes her walls around his pounding thrusts. "Mmm, this pussy so tight and wet. Keep comin' for me, baby, gimme all that nut."

His sultry command sends another wave of pleasure crashing into her like one of his trademark Spears, and her jaw drops from the force of her orgasm, her pussy clenching painfully around his dick. Her pitiful moans that she struggles to muffle against his tattooed shoulder are music to the Tribal Chief's ears as his own body is moments away from the same fate.

"Shit," he groans gruffly, shuddering breaths tearing from his lungs as his balls tighten and his strokes become sloppier, heavier, "Fuck, I'm boutta buss..."

Joy lifts her left leg up and rests it on his shoulder, digging her other heel in his lower back to pull him in deeper and finally take him down. She runs her hands all over his sides, his back, his ass, her moans mingling with his as his hips snap harder and faster. Their foreheads touch, and a devilish smile forms on her face at the helplessness in his glazed eyes, licking his lips in between throaty gasps of pleasure. She has him right where she wants him. "There you go baby, pound that fuckin' pussy, fill it up," she coaxes.

"Unhhh, shit," Roman's whines disintegrate into a whimpering cry as his big body trembles viscerally against her own. Joy's toes curl as he lodges his dick all the way inside her, making her feel each throbbing spurt of his warm seed spilling generously in her pussy. She never minds him coming inside her; her IUD is always in place, mainly for his benefit and hers. His deep, sexy grunts as he rides out his nut with stuttered ruts of his hips wash over her, leaving her breathless and weak-kneed for him.

Kissing her leg and letting it down, Roman finally pulls his dick out with a hiss and strokes out the rest of his cum onto her softened, battered pussy lips. Joy stares dazedly at the ceiling, her body humming from the last vestiges of her orgasm and a touch of pain. She feels his big arms slide around her waist and draw her in so their lips meet, savoring their collective taste with their tongues as they bask in the afterglow. He takes her arms and winds them around his neck before picking her up, transferring her from the sofa to the king-sized bed a couple of feet away. He lays her carefully on the bed and sits at the edge, watching her snuggle against the soft sheets and pillows with a satisfied sigh. The outdoor lights peeking through the window cast a glittery shadow over her nude body, making her look even more beautiful. And speaking of beautiful...

"I got you something," he announces, taking a small gift box labeled Van Cleef & Arpels sat on the nightstand and handing it to her.

"What's this?" she questions, slowly sitting up.

"Just a lil' sumn I thought you'd like," he simply shrugs. "Open it."

Eyeing him suspiciously, she unties the ribbon at the top of the box and removes the lid. Nestled in navy-blue velvet are an eighteen-carat yellow-gold Alhambra bracelet and matching earrings. She wishes she disliked the warmth that blooms inside her at the sweet gesture. She meets his eyes, noting his cocked eyebrow and cocky smirk as he gauges her reaction.

"This a good enough apology for you?" he asks.

Joy smiles gratefully and kisses his lips. "They're beautiful. But I keep telling you, you don't have to buy me anything," she says.

"Well, I want to. Sue me." He goes quiet for a few seconds, contemplating his next words. "You got tickets to the SuperBowl, right? Let's go together. We can hang out in my skybox."

"And have people talk about us? We got reputations to uphold. And what about Venita?"

"She'll be there. She's still clueless about us. And I told you, ain't nobody gon' say shit. Between your lawyer and mine, all them NDAs are water-tight." When he speaks again, his voice is much softer. "I just miss spending time with you. I miss when we weren't at each other's throats like we are these days."

"That's only cuz you make my job harder, Reigns," she points out, scooting over when he rolls into the bed and sits up against the headboard next to her.

"And you, mine. But despite all of that, I would do anything for you. You know that, right? That's why I agreed to that damn match. For you," he adds, biting his lip as he caresses her chin and gazes tenderly at her. Joy feels her heart flutter as his chocolate-colored eyes gleam with that familiar, intense passion that the two of them have been sharing for almost four years now...

"You're so cute when you get all soft and sweet on me, champ," she smiles, leaning in for another kiss that lingers pleasantly this time. It's little moments like these that try to con her, even to this day, that their affair has veered towards the romantic side. She thanks the cynical businesswoman in her for swiftly kicking that childish notion to the curb every time the delusion attempts to rear its ugly head.

Their embrace is interrupted by the grating sound of his phone vibrating, forcing him to pull away from her with a tired sigh. On the nightstand, a text message with Venita's name lights up his phone screen.

Countin the minutes till I touch down in Vegas 🥺😍 Can't wait to see you again! Love you Baby Boo 😘

"Aww, poor baby," Joy's giggle is dark and mocking as she looks over Roman's shoulder. Snatching the phone out of his hand, she opens up the message and begins typing.

"Don't start no shit, now," he sighs, but makes no move to stop whatever havoc she's causing through his device.

"Relax, Baby Boo," she teases, pressing Send and holding his phone up to his face to show him her response.

I'm waiting for you babe. Can't wait to see you 😍 Love you sm.

"See? I was nice," she says, putting away his phone and climbing on top of his big body.

Roman rolls his eyes and runs his hands along her thighs. "I guess I should thank you, then?"

"Oh, no need to thank me. I'm just being a good, caring boss," she replies, bending to kiss his lips, trailing her tongue along his bearded jawline and tasting her dried juices. "You're my star employee, so it's important that I always give you what you need. And I always give it to you, don't I?"

Roman groans into her mouth as she kisses him harder, her dainty fingers stroking his dick which immediately pulses in her grasp as though it hasn't been touched all day. "Yeah, you do," he rasps, his body heating up as she starts to descend on him. "Oh shit, baby, you feelin' generous tonight..."

"Mmm, more like selfish..." She sits all the way down with a gasp, making both their hearts race with each twitch of his cock inside her. "Cuz I want that dick again, and I'm taking it..."

She is already moving, hunched over him, her titties in his face, sucking them both back into that sensual place of pleasure they like to visit together. He answers to her, in more ways than one, and he won't have it any other way. "Anything you want, boss. Anything you want," the Tribal Chief croaks out, allowing himself to sit back and enjoy the ride, quite literally.

THE END

--------------

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[cosmicpearlz]

hopelessly devoted

summary: the four times you and joão spill about your relationship and the one time you guys finally hard launch it.

pairing: joão félix x actress!reader

-one-

"hello gq! my name is y/n and i'm here to answer your burning questions," you said as you wiggled your eyebrows in a teasing manor.

"what was it like filming with jenna oretega?"

"it was absolutely amazing. jenna is like my sweet little angel. for those that don't know, me and jenna play adopted siblings for this movie called all for love. you should go check it out or whatever," you shrugged your shoulders, throwing the card behind you.

"who makes you laugh the most?"

you looked down at your feet, sporting a huge smile. "my boyfriend," you picked your head up towards the camera and giggled.

"boyfriend? are you saying that you're not single?" one of the producers behind the camera said.

"yeah, ya girl is off the market."

"can you tell us more?"

"well all i can say is he's a well known athlete. we've been together for almost a year now and i'm very happy."

"will you ever go public?"

"maybe or maybe not. who knows," you throw another wink to the camera, causing everyone in the room to laugh.

-two-

with you being out the country for a new movie, you couldn't attend joão's game. you were left feeling bummed that you couldn't be there to support him in person. it didn't stop you from watching the game in your hotel room, texting him throughout it. he wouldn't be able to see all the texts until after the game but it never mattered to you. you practically jumped off the bed, watching your boyfriend score the winning goal. sending a quick text, stating how proud you were and how much you loved him. you kept the channel on, waiting for his interview.

"joão, you had a really goal. you must've been delighted with that finish."

"yeah, i think it was a good goal. uh, well played since the beginning, since the net. and then with the neto pass. it was kind of easy from that spot," joão gave the interviewer a small smile.

"and who will you be celebrating this win with?"

"celebrating with my girlfriend over facetime. she wasn't able to make it here today but i know she's been texting me updates while she was watching. i look forward to calling her and seeing what she's been saying," his smile grows more being able to talk about the love of his life.

"congratulations again and thank you for your time."

"thank you," joão shakes the interviewer's hand before walking towards the locker rooms.

it didn't take long for joão to get home. he was quick to drop his stuff off at the door and greet floki. picking up the small dog, he heads to the couch to call you.

"babyyyy! ah, i'm so so so proud of you," you screamed into the phone speakers upon answering the facetime call.

"meu amado (my beloved), thank you for watching."

"i'm always watching. you literally couldn't get me not to watch your matches. now, where's my son?" joão chuckles, flipping the camera down to floki, who rested comfortably in his lap.

"starting to thing you love him more than me."

"i could never."

"well maybe just a little bit. but to be fair, i love you both equally."

"we love you too babe."

-three-

another day, another interview. you were so glad that you got to do this one at home. you set your computer up in the kitchen and only worried about putting on a fancy top. from the waist down, you were wearing joão's basketball shorts and a pair of his socks. his closet was pretty much your closet too.

"in a recent interview with gq, you mentioned that you had a boyfriend," you nodded with a smile. "what song reminds you of the relationship you guys have?"

"um it'd have to be 'so american' by olivia rodrigo."

"he isn't american?"

"no, he's actually portuguese. unfortunately, he doesn't laugh at all my jokes because he thinks i'm corny sometimes but i'm very much in love," you replied, locking eyes with joão while he quietly tiptoes through the kitchen. he blows you an air kiss, making you wink at him.

"was that him? is he with you now?" you cover your mouth to hide your smile and incoming laugh.

"yes, i'm home and he's here too. i believe he just came in from training. it's nice being able to come home to someone."

-four-

"i'm joão félix and here's ten things that i can't live without."

for the next thirty minutes, he explains the stuff he brought in. from his training gear and cleats to his dog to his phone and even his favorite cologne. the last item, wasn't an item but a person.

"she's not here right now but meu amado is the last thing i can't live without. i feel like she constantly grounds me when i need a pick me up. it's been nice having someone to come home to. i also love that we're able to support each other throughout our busy lives," he smiles off to a distance, recalling moments from your relationship.

"nah nah, bro just wants to talk about her all day," his teammate noni rushes into the frame.

"get out, this is my video!" joão says, while laughing behind the words.

"you guys don't understand. i genuinely don't think he can function properly without her. you should see them when we have away matches, just on the phone the entire ride."

"i can't help that she's the love of my life. now, shoo."

-the hard launch-

you were buzzing with nerves while getting dressed for the film festival. you knew all eyes were going to be on you because of the movie that you were in. you also knew, with joão by your side, you could do anything. you were finishing getting ready, when a knock on the door sounded through the room

"come in," you yelled out, thinking it was either your boyfriend or someone from your team. the door opens and closes, footsteps getting closer, you're met with your boyfriend. joão whistles, eyes traveling you from head to toe.

"my god, you are a beauty."

"oh stop it," you close the distance between the two of you and kiss his cheek. he lays his hands on your hips, pulling you closer to his body.

"i'm serious bebê, you are gorgeous. i cant wait to shout it to the sky that we're dating."

"i'm excited too. i can't wait for people to know that my boyfriend is one of the best footballers ever."

"now you're just saying that."

"no, i believe it. there's a difference love."

"y/n, it's time to go!" your manger yells through the closed door.

"you ready babe?"

"always. after you my love," joão says, letting you take the lead.

getting closer to the carpet, your nerves were back. it was as if he could sense it because you felt a squeeze on your hand. you looked up from your lap, locking eyes with your boyfriend.

"no need to be nervous, i'm right here," joão whispers to you, while gliding his thumb across your hand. "are you feeling doubts about us going public?" as much as he didn't want to admit, he would be hurt if you said yes. joão had been waiting to go public for some time now but he knew if you had doubts, he would respect your wishes. your eyes widen upon hearing his question.

"no! babe, i don't doubt a thing when it comes to you. i'm just nervous because it's my first time being here. i don't want to disappoint anyone."

"you won't. you're going to do amazing," he leans over to press a kiss to your lips. leaving a couple pecks and then leaning upwards to kiss your forehead.

when the car comes to a stop, joão is the first to get out. coming around the other side to open the door for you. the screams were already loud when he step out of the car but it doubled as he helped you out. joão fixes the train of your dress before you guys walked hand and hand down the carpet.

"so he was the boyfriend, huh?"

"yes, he's my talented and wonderful boyfriend," you giggled, meeting his gaze. joão shakes his head and joins in on your laughter.

"we're here for her not me. I'm so proud of her and her hard work."

"I'm surprised fans didn't pick up that the two of you were talking about each other the whole time. it really does make sense now," the interviewer let out a chuckle of realization.

"you know, now that you say it, i'm surprised too. our answers were almost always the same," you looked up at him, finding he was already looking at you.

"i don't care, i can finally kiss her in public. i'm dating y/n y/l/n!" joão grins during his mini speech. your smile grows and you pull your joined hands closer to your heart.

"and i'm dating joão félix!"

"talk about hard launch of the century. congratulations on the movie y/n and i wish you nothing but the best."

"thank you for your kind words. it truly means a lot and my best is standing right next to me," you replied to the interviewer. joão's smile grows even bigger and he places a delicate kiss to the top of your head.

"she's my best as well. if anyone cared to know!"

[ldysmfrst]

American Mate (12) - Everyone Deserves a Second Chance

Paring: Hybrid!BTS Ot7 x Plus-sized Human FemReader

Status: Ongoing series

Chapter number: 12 of unknown

Word count for Chapter: 9,975

Work count for Story: 91,306

Genre: Hybrid Playmate Au inspired by works created by @yoongiofmine

A little about the author: I am a mother of two beautiful children, one of whom has special needs, and the other loves everyone. I started a Patreon, and I would be grateful if you donated to help me make ends meet while I am out of work.

Warnings: NOT BETA READ!! This chapter does have pack dynamics, comfort, possessiveness, angst, minor mentions of past trauma, and self-doubt.

BTS HYBRID ANIMAL TYPES: Seokjin - Roan Ferret, Yoongi - Black Jaguar, Hoseok - Marten, Namjoon - Alaskan Timber Wolf, Jimin - Red Panda, Taehyung - White Southwest African Tiger, Jungkook - Flemish Giant Rabbit

AMERICAN MATE MASTER LIST / LDYSMFRST MASTER LIST

Can you do that? 

Can you give them a chance?

Yoongi has more than once said that he would protect you, and now he seems also to want to protect you from his pack if they overstep. Is that something you should be worried about?  Could you really ask him to stand against his pack for you? No, not really.

Then again, they are already protective of you– like all of them. They want others, non-pack hybrids, to know that you are theirs. If this morning was any example of them being protective or possessive, does it get more or less dramatic from here? 

Are they just words they will use, or are they actions, too?

You are special to them. Jin told you this during your non-date date and changed the contract to show this. The rest of the pack seems drawn to you and finds ways to get close to you, seemingly without your knowledge. But oddly enough, you are not offended that they are doing such a thing. 

The bigger question is, what will they show you off as? 

As of right now, you are only you.

You will find your answers over the next few weeks – you have to.

“Prime Alpha? Luna is ready for us to return to the conference room,” Derik informs him with a smile as he takes in the stressed appearance and scents of those in the breakroom. Knowing these Alphas are mated to his Luna calms his heart and his Beta. 

“Thank you,” Namjoon says as he moves to leave. 

Yoongi bolts from the room faster than the rest as his Alpha tries to claw his way out from being separated from you. At this point, he couldn’t care less about following any kind of protocol. His only goal is to make sure you are all right since he was not around to protect you. 

Jungkook flits between wanting to go after Yoongi and wanting to respect his Prime Alpha. Unlike Yoongi, he knows he cannot test Namjoon the way Yoongi, Seokjin, and even Taehyung can. 

“Joonie,” Jin calls, pointing to the fidgeting youngest mate, which causes both remaining older Alphas to smile. 

“Jungkook-ah,” Namjoon says, gaining his attention with wide doe-like eyes. “You can go ahead. Make sure Yoongi-hyung allows our new mate space to breathe. We will follow.”

Breaking into a big toothy smile, Jungkook nods rapidly with his bunny ears flopping along. He takes off down the hall without a glance back, leaving Derik, Namjoon, and Seokjin chuckling. 

“Common, let us go and see if everything has settled with your Luna, Derik,” Seokjin says, taking Namjoon’s arm and pulling him along. He is just as excited as he is worried about the answer.

Walking down the hall, the conference room door is still open, and the scent of vanilla and sweet peas soothes the frazzled nerves of the Bangtan packmates as they reenter. 

At this point, the Director has moved to the head of the table, and Derik moves to an empty seat next to him. Y/n is sitting with Yoongi to her right, Taehyung to her left, and Jungkook standing behind her with Jimin and Hoseok on each side. 

Not wanting to crowd her anymore, Jin and Namjoon return to their seats and smile at the sight of their mates. All of them happily talk together, and all of them touch each other in some way. 

You rest your good hand on Jungkook’s while it is resting on your shoulder as you talk to Yoongi. Yoongi has his tail wrapped around you again but is leaning against Jimin. Hoseok runs his fingers through Taehyung’s hair while listening to him talk about what happened this morning. In the meantime, Jimin is holding onto Taehyung’s hand.

“If I didn’t know any better,” Seokjin whispers to Namjoon. “I’d say she was already bonded with all of them.”

Before Namjoon can reply, Manager Sejin enters the room with a stack of papers in hand, “Well, the contract has been finalized with BigHit, and I have everyone's copy with me. Prime Alpha, do you want me to keep the pack’s contract in the main binder?”

Namjoon’s eyes crinkle into small slits as his posture visibility drops in relaxation as he hears the news. Looking at you after, he says, “You signed.” 

You return his smile; this time, it reaches your eyes as you nod your head, “Yes, Prime Alpha, I signed. I had some worries,” you glance at the three you kept behind, “but your pack is persuasive.”

That breaks the gate for celebrations all around. All you can do is giggle as the group of Alphas acts like clowns with funky dancing, shouting, and hugs.

“Well then, I’d hate to disrupt the mood, but Mr. Gulley and I must return to work,” Director Johnson announces as he and Derik stand to leave. 

You also stand, “Thank you for your time, Director. I will maintain reports to you as required. Also, if the new girl needs any advice or help, please let her know to give me a call.”

“No worries, Luna. She is doing great, but we will keep that in mind. You just worry about healing and seeing where this,” Derek points around the room at the Bangtan pack, “all goes.”

“I think I have no choice but to heal,” you respond, shaking your braced hand at him with a chuckle. However, the look on Derik’s face makes you slightly falter because his eyes are reflective, making you think he is talking about something other than your hand. 

After those two leave, Manager Sejin announces that he has arranged to have food delivered to the pack house soon since it is past lunchtime. This prompts everyone to head out to the vans. 

Like the last time you left the office, you find yourself stuck in the middle, but the whole pack is present this time. Everyone has started talking in smaller group conversations that you end up just listening to, as most of it is in Korean.

One thing is certain: your Korean should improve by the time you finish the contract. The thought causes you to sigh to yourself and catch Jimin's attention.

“You okay?” Jimin asks, coming to walk by your side. 

“Yeah, everything is going to be okay. I’m just realizing that I will need to brush up on my Korean more to keep up with everyone, but other than that, I am actually okay,” you smile. 

“That’s good. You can also help us with our English. Remember, if we are ever too much, which we will be, you can always go to your den. That is your space, and we will only enter if you request us to or if we think you are in danger,” he says with a seriousness that resembles your time with him on the balcony. 

“I will and will follow the same respect with each of your dens,” you smile back.

Exiting the elevator, which surprisingly held all of you, the boys come to a stop. Glances are passed between everyone, and some are glaring at the vans. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask them with a sigh. You hope they are still not holding on to what happened this morning, but Taehyung won’t meet your gaze, and you are pretty sure it is still the issue. “Do you guys still have an issue with James?”

“No, we don’t,” responds Namjoon, to which you raise your eyebrow. “Mr. Green is fine, and we will be fine with him as one of our drivers.”

Sighing, you cross your arms and ask, “So what’s with all the glances and glares?”

“Sugar, the vans only fit five passengers,” Jungkook says as if you should know what that means.

“Yeah, I know. There are eight of us, so we have to split up. We did that before,” you say with slight confusion. “Can we not do that again?”

“What our youngest isn’t saying, Princess, is that everyone wants to be in the van you are in,” Yoongi clarifies, which makes you blush slightly.

“So, what do we do? Play rock, paper, scissors?” you say jokingly. Only they don’t see it as a joke, immediately turning into a circle and standing at the ready. “Wait! You aren’t really gonna do that, are you?”

“To be honest, it is the fairest thing to do,” Taehyung says. “However, I get an automatic seat because I am in service to you, right, Namjoon-hyung?”

“True, he has to stay with you. However, the rest of us will play gawi, bawi, bo, the Korean version of your game of luck. Everyone ready?” Namjoon asks, and everyone nods. 

“Taehyungie, call it out,” says Jimin.

After a hysterical match, your van ends up with Jimin and Namjoon. To your surprise, the driver is James. Before you can say hello or get in the van, Taehyung walks up to James and bows, “I am sorry for my rudeness this morning, Mr. Green. I was not aware of your friendship with Miss Y/n.”

James happily accepted the apology but still seemed stiff around you. You don’t blame him for how things went down. Though, you do hope that he will relax around you again. Maybe he will when he doesn’t have a tiger hybrid looking like he is still about to hunt him down still.

Getting in the van, you sit in one of the swivel chairs, only to be pulled onto the bench seat with Taehyung to your left. Glancing at him, you can see that his face is trying to be relaxed, but the thinness of his lips gives him away. Leaming slightly toward the tall hybrid, you whisper, “Still feeling possessive, Taehyung?”

His eyes widen at your question, “Sorry, I struggle with that often, especially when someone is new to the pack. Are you okay with this? I mean, with me sitting here?”

You glance at Namjoon and Jimin, who are observing. You know, somehow, that if you had a problem with the seating arrangement, either would switch in a heartbeat; however, all three of them are leaving it up to you to decide. It gives you this strange, bubbly feel.

“The driver doesn’t know about the agreement, and even though he signed an NDA, you can never be too cautious, but if you require me to kneel,” Taehyung glances at the open petition, his voice soft as not to carry. “I would kneel as ordered.”

Returning your gaze to Taehyung, you consider his words, slightly surprised that he would still kneel in the van. Apparently, this is going to be a thing everywhere. However, he is right. Unfortunately, some people don’t follow the NDAs, and you don’t know James that well yet. There is no promise that Taehyung’s submissive behavior won't get out to the wrong people.

“No, this is fine. besides, you need to wear a seatbelt.” You agree but decide to clarify: “For safety reasons, I would like to modify the Acts agreement when dealing with transportation. I propose that you sit behind me, and if no seat behind me is available, you will sit on my left. Are the modifications acceptable?”

“As you wish,” Taehyung agrees. His posture remains slightly stiff as he buckles up. He doesn’t think you fully understand your position, but you will in time. 

“Ooohoo, it is always a treat to see a tamed tiger every once in a while,” Jimin smiles, and you giggle. 

Tamed tiger, your ass. 

He is stronger and an Alpha, and nothing is tame about him. Even so, his choice to be put in this position is entirely on him. You are sure there are a hundred different things he could do to get out of having to be like this with you, but for some reason, he didn’t argue about it.

Trying to avoid that thought process, you redirect the conversation, “I told Yoongi that I wanted to get him and Taehyung a bell because they are both sneaky. Jungkook is sneaky, too. If it weren’t for your manager, I would have been so upset with Thumper and Kisa when they hid from me.”

When Yoongi’s nickname is used, Taehyung and Namjoon start chuckling. You get slightly embarrassed thinking you should only use the nicknames when talking with the corresponding person. 

“Oh, don’t mind us,” Namjoon says. “We are just remembering how excited he was to tell us you gave him a pet name.”

“Oh, I am glad he is excited and not ashamed,” you smile, still making a mental note to talk to them about when it would be acceptable to use your names for them. 

“Trust me, Hyung is not one to keep quiet about something he doesn’t like,” Jimin adds. “He can be kind of rude about it sometimes, but he will also apologize right after.”

“Good to know the jaguar is hot-tempered like a normal feline. Gotcha.” You shake your head and smile. “Are you also hot-tempered, Taehyung?”

“Could you not tell this morning?” he snarkily replies.

“Miss Y/n,” Namjoon calls your attention. 

“Namjoon, you are stuck with me for the next two months, and the rest of the pack has dropped the formalities with me, and I with them for the most part. You can too if you want to,” you offer.

That pulls a smile from Namjoon, “I would like that. I do have something that I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Sure, what’s on your mind?” you ask as you sit back in your seat and turn to face him fully, giving the Prime Alpha your undivided attention.

Taehyung has angled himself in the corner while his tail brushes your arm slightly, his eyes also on the Prime Alpha. Jimin has also rotated the chair to face Namjoon as the van quietens. 

“Well… ah… now the contract is signed,” Namjoon licks his lips and glances at the other two hybrids. “You went on your date with Seokjin-hyung. Did you think it went well?”

“Hyung,” says Taehyung with a sneer. “You know it went well. I heard you and Jinnie-hyung talk about it after they got home.”

You put your hand on Taehyung’s knee, which shocked him. You answer, “Yes, Namjoon. It went well. I have never had an experience like that. It was nice to get to know Jin. I am sorry, was I supposed to report that to you?”

“Oh no. You don’t have to report anything like that to me. I was just,” Namjoon pauses. “Y/n, I want you to accompany me tomorrow night.”

“Oh, of course,” you respond, pulling out your phone to enter the request into your calendar.  Part of being a Playmate means that each Bangtan Packmate can request you, and it’s more on a first-come, first-served basis. “What times are you requesting? I think Hoseok wanted to request time tomorrow with some of the others as well, but I didn’t get a time frame from him. Maybe you can join?” 

Looking at the calendar, you notice how blank it is right now. Your life is so simple. Each day is practically clear, but you have a feeling it's about to get filled quickly.

You hear snickering coming from Taehyung before he says, “Hyung, that isn’t how you ask a lady out.”

“Ask out?”  you ask. Looking up from your phone, you see the Prime Alpha, the Alpha Wolf, blushing. Then it hits you. Namjoon wants his not-date date with you to be tomorrow.

“Yah! I was getting there,” Namjoon sighs, flustered with the situation. 

“Namjoon,” you sweetly say his name. “Are you asking me to join you like I did with Seokjin?”

Another sigh leaves the Alpha sitting before you, “Yes, but it would be in the evening. You would have time to spend with Hoseok-hyung in the morning. Maybe.” 

Namjoon straightens his back, causing you to do the same, and looks at you, “Y/n, would you please be my date to the LACMA Gala tomorrow night? It would be an honor to have you by my side to get to know you better and show you to the world.”

“You want me to go to the LACMA Gala? With you? There will be lots of paparazzi there, and it’s a Gala. A huge, fancy, very publicized Gala!” you say with a quickening pulse. While you were ready for another swanky dinner, you were not ready for an event as publicized and extravagant as this. 

After taking your phone and passing it to Jimin, Namjoon holds your hands, sending out his vanilla and leather scent to calm your nerves.

“Y/n, there will be cameras, but there is nothing, absolutely nothing, that would stop me from having you by my side. I have arranged for gowns to be brought to the pack house, as well as make-up and hair noonas to help prepare you,” informs Namjoon without any hesitation.

“Hyung is going to take care of you, Y/n,” Jimin voices. “You will be treated like a royalty. If there are too many cameras for you and it just feels too soon, we can arrange something so you don’t have to walk the carpet. But you are going to have to get used to cameras eventually. It's hard not to when you are around us.”

“Are you sure you want to be pictured with me? Like at all?” you question Namjoon but look at everyone in the van. “I wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation.”

Growls resound through the van, causing you to jump slightly, but Namjoon only holds your hands tighter, “Y/n, I thought Hoseok covered this earlier, but let me remind you… Bangtan Pack does not allow for any self-deprecation.”

Shit. 

“I… I wasn’t. I was worried about Army,” you scramble to cover what you said. “They don’t know you have a new playmate, which may cause a backlash.”

“Nice try. We smelled your scent tinge like perfume when he brought up the fact that it was a Gala, which means you are worried about getting your photo taken, how to behave, or what to wear,” points out Taehyung.

“I know how to behave at a Gala,” you defend yourself. “My mother used to make me go to them all the time. That is the easy part. I was worried about the attire, photos, and Army. I know how much they mean to you all.”

“Let us worry about the fans. I am sure Manager Sejin and PD-nim have a press release ready to send. Our true Army will be happy for us, and those who don’t will have to deal with it,” Jimin adds as if it’s no big deal.

“We have everything covered. We have been working on everything since the day you greeted us, as Hobi-hyung said,” continues Jimin. “Let Namjoon-hyung escort you to the Gala, please?”

You are amazed at the three Alphas' confidence regarding this very public event. More so, the intonation that you are more valuable, maybe more so than their Army, sends a slight tingle up and down your spine. 

“All right. I trust you three.” Focusing back on Namjoon, you smile, saying, “Namjoon, I would be honored to be your plus one at the Gala.”

The rest of the afternoon was relatively simple. Everyone ate the late lunch together and then broke off into different activities. The maknae line decided to play video games while Jin and Hoseok were watching. Namjoon and Yoongi decided to work on new tracks, each tucked away in their respective dens on personal laptops.

You decided that it was a good time to unpack. With everything signed now, there wasn’t this hovering anxiety that they would suddenly shove you out the front door and laugh at you the whole time. 

You left the door open a crack in case anyone needed you or for when they would call for dinner later. Supposedly, Jungkook was to cook tonight. You would have to learn their cooking and cleaning rotations to see where you could help them or squeeze your way into a slot. 

As a child who spent a lot of time alone, you tended to listen to music while doing things. You put on your Pandora, mainly listening to Alternative and American Pop music from your youth and K-pop. 

Currently, you were rocking out and dancing, as much as you could, to God’s Menu between re-folding the clothes you dumped out of your luggage bag Jin let you borrow. 

Unknown to you, Taehyung had lost at the video game and came looking for you since it was his “punishment” to help you. Hearing the music coming from your room, he figured you were relaxing. However, when he looked through the crack in the door, he was just in time to watch your body move to Felix’s part.

It became a mini battle within himself to watch you. 

He loved how your body moved, even when you had a miss-step. Your musicality was pretty spot on, and your voice was cute when you tried to hit the epically low notes for which the typically blonde-haired Stray Kids member was known. 

He knew he could watch and listen to you for hours. However, he was jealous that you were dancing to Stray Kids and now to the song One by Astro. Why were these not BTS songs? 

He wants to hear you sing their songs. 

He wants you to be Army. 

He wants to watch you move to the sound of his voice in more ways than one– preferably while under him.

It wasn’t until It’s Gonna Be Me from N*Sync came on that he couldn’t stay away. He knew this one, and it wasn't a rival K-pop band.  When the chorus hit, he pushed open the door and joined in your dancing and singing. 

“But I'm not like them. Baby, when you finally get to love somebody, Guess what?” he croons along with the boy band and dances his way to you.

“Taehyung!” you exclaim, shocked at the hybrid tiger’s entrance and intense look. 

Pulling you close at the end of the chorus, he looks you in the eyes and sings, “It's gonna be me.”

You would freeze in your step, but the ‘lady’ your mother trained to be kept you moving.

“Keep dancing with me, Y/n. You have great rhythm, and it looks like you know a few different choreographies,” he comments, hoping you will allow him a few more moments of your body moving with his.

“Oh no. I just play around with what I have seen.” Then it hits you… he said a few. Pulling out of his hold, you back up to your phone and pause the music. You look at him with squinted eyes, “How long have you been watching me?”

Biting the inside of his cheek at his misstep, he says, “Just two songs. Astro and Stray Kids. Really? No BTS songs?”

You smile softly, thinking this could go one of two ways. Either he will understand that you do like BTS but that they weren't in your Top 3, or he will get possessive because you’re his Playmate and had better like BTS.

“There are BTS songs. Like Zero O’Clock, Run, ah um… Oh, I have Rainy Days and Arson too,” you scramble to list the titles of songs you think deal with BTS. Silently hoping to mention his song gave you bonus points.

Your response grants you a smile from him, “Alright. One of these days, I want to hear you sing one of our songs.”

“Ah, no, thank you. I don’t sing,” you say as you return to folding clothes. Wait, these look already folded. 

Damn.

“You sounded pretty good to that Astro song. I am sure Eun Woo would appreciate your rendition of his part,” he says, joining your side and looking at the folded clothes.

“Not gonna happen. Like I will ever get a chance even to meet a member of Astro, that is if Astro still will stay together after everything,” you said absent-mindedly, rubbing the memorial tattoo for Moonbin on your arm.

“Are you okay?” Taehyung asks, noting the sadness in your voice and the hint of mold in your scent.

Glancing up at the man next to you, you see the concern on his face, and his ears are trained on you. Smiling through the sadness of the industry's loss of such a talented person, you nod, “Moonbin’s passing still kinda hits me hard, ya know? He was my first bias, I guess you could say.”

Holding back a growl at the idea of you liking someone else as your bias, Taehyung wraps his tail around your thigh to show comfort– not possession. 

While he wasn’t close to Moonbin, they were all acquaintances because Kookie and Eun Woo were close. A death in the industry hits everyone hard because they all know how hard it is.

“Facebook showed me an ad for True Beauty, starting with Cha Eun Woo, which led me to discover Astro, in turn, Moonbin and the rest of the K-pop world. His dancing was on point, his voice soothing, and his looks were unique in their beauty,” you say with a slightly thick voice, holding back emotions because you weren’t lying when you said it was hard. “I wouldn’t know much more about the industry or Korea if it wasn’t for him.”

“When he passed away, a bunch of Aroha designed this tattoo,” you pull up your shirt, showing your side and the purple crescent moon with the Astro band’s star logo.

“That is a great way to honor him,” Taehyung says as he traces the outline, which shudders your body.

Dropping your shirt back down and blushing, you pick up your clothes and put them away. Clearing your throat and changing the conversation’s direction, you ask, “What do you need?”

“Well, you should be sitting and telling me where to put those. Remember,” he points to himself. “Servant for the foreseeable future.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot that part. Umm… well, can you hang those up and give Seokjin the luggage cases back, please?” you ask. 

“You got it, but I think his intent was giving them to you,” the tiger says, moving to do as you requested. 

“Oh, he doesn’t need to give me his stuff. I have a smaller set that I can use for now. If I need to buy something bigger later, I will,” you comment, leaning against the end of the bed.

“Who’s buying something bigger?” says Hoseok from the doorway. “Are we going shopping? You know you need me there if we are gonna shop.”

Coming out of the closet, Taehyung smirks, “Your Doll thinks she is gonna get away with buying a new luggage set for when we move cities.”

You scoff at him. What does he mean you think, you know. There is no thinking going on. 

“Oh, a luggage buy, that is a Jinnie-hyungie department. He likes everyone having the same set in their color of choice. You better talk to him first,” advises Hoseok.

“I am perfectly fine with getting my own. It doesn’t have to match anything,” you grumble to yourself; like hell, you can afford to buy a matching Rimowa set.

“Ah huh, yeah, sure, I will let him know you need to talk, Y/n. I will give these back to him and see if there are any plans for tonight, and then I'll be back. Is that okay?” Taehyung asks, his hands full of empty cases, as he heads to the door.

“Yeah, that’s fine. It’s late, though, so I think I might just get something small to eat and then head to bed,” you say.

“I will tell him you are hungry too,” notes Taehyung, and out the door, he goes before you can stop him. Seriously, you just said you might eat. 

Re-stacking the clothes in the open drawer, your mind wanders off to how you might have to watch everything you say because it seems like someone has something to do with it, no matter what you say.

“Doll?” Hoseok calls for your attention. “Out of all of us, Seokjin is the most caring. For all intents and purposes, he is our Luna, and with that, he makes sure to feed the pack and ensure we have everything we need. That includes you now, too.”

“I know. I mean, like, I know, but I don’t know,” you let out a slight whine as you shut the drawer and walked back to the bed. “I know because I have been told, but I have never had someone who would take that role with me.”

“I am Luna of the pack. I am the friend who stops fights, even if they get physical. I am the one to buy things for people in need,” you tell Hoseok.

Hoseok smiles as bright as sunshine and sits beside you, saying, “Doll, you can relax now. You have seven mates all looking to spoil you silly.”

“Seven mates that are bonded to each other, you mean?” you correct his statement, which causes him to panic internally because he didn’t even notice his slip-up. 

“Bonded or not, you are part of our pack for now. So much so that I heard you have a Gala to attend tomorrow,” he nudges your shoulder with his.

“Yep,” you say, popping the ‘p.’ “Namjoon wants to introduce me to the world.”

“As he should. The Prime Alpha should be the first person to be seen with you in public. It’s his honor to have that privilege,” says Hoseok. 

You nod in agreement. It's odd to think that doing anything with you would be a privilege or an honor, but hybrids have their own culture towards that stuff. 

“I know I mentioned spending time with you and a few others tomorrow,” he says as he puts his hand up just as to snap to him with an apology on your lips. 

“We would still like to spend time with you tomorrow. The team of noonas that will get you ready will come around 11 am so we can have breakfast together and maybe help you prepare for your debut,” he excitedly tells you.

“That would be wonderful. Thank you for understanding, Hoseok,” you say as you lean against him. 

“Of course, Doll,” he says, loosely wrapping his arms around your shoulders, allowing you to pull away if you didn’t want the skinship. When you relax more into his hold, he can’t help but chatter quietly in happiness. 

The rest of the night is simple.

Jin orders food for everyone because you are hungry now and wouldn’t listen to you saying you could have some fruit, telling you that fruit is a snack and not a proper meal. Also, allowing the youngest to cook would “take too long.”

He also makes you sit with him to order a complete set of matching deep purple suitcases. He refuses to let you pay him back, nor will he tell you how much it costs. 

All of Bangtan is amused by your interactions and the thought that you still believe you have any choice in matters involving Jin and his deep-seated need to care for others. 

When you woke up the following day, you found yourself lying on top of Jimin and Jungkook’s body pillows, with Hoseok’s pillow under your head, Yoongi’s pillow between your knees, and Namjoon’s blanket covering you.

You had no idea how you got from where you started to where you were, but someone must have carried you to bed since you last remembered watching some Marvel movie.

Fluffing the pillow under your head a bit, you frown. Something feels off. Maybe you should get your own bedding soon. The ones the boys gave you are starting to feel like they aren’t enough. It’s not that they are flat, but they just feel off. 

It doesn’t surprise you, though. Back at your place, your coat closet is more like a linen closet just for blankets and pillows that Evie’s family and your pack keep rotating in and out for you.

After washing your face and throwing on a tank top with a built-in bra and yoga pants, you start to break down your blanket fort, smelling each one along the way to see if it needs to be washed before you return it.

Knock knock

“Come in, I am up,” you call to whoever is on the other side of the door.

Glancing at the opening door, you are greeted by a sleepy-looking shirtless Taehyung, who zombie walks over to you and promptly falls face-first on your pile of folded bedding.

“Tae, I just folded those. If you are so tired, why are you down here?” you question, pulling some of the blankets out from under him.

“Because a certain rabbit told me my Mistress was awake and moving around too much,” he says, grabbing the blanket and pulling, which effectively pulls you down with it. 

Grappling you like an octopus, Taehyung makes you lay with him. With one eye open, he asks, “Why are you up at 7 am?”

Mind you, he completely ignored the shrieking epp sound coming from you as he maneuvered you to where he wanted you, which caused a stampede of hybrids to come running down the hall. 

Meanwhile, all you could do was try not to die. 

Your mind is short-circuiting at the fact that the stoic, possessive tiger-turned-koala now has his legs intertwined with yours, his nose pressed into your hair as he buries your face into his non-shirt-covered chest. 

“Sugar?” comes Jungkook, leading the mini stampede into your room only to come to a dead stop and get hit from behind by Jimin. Both are now gapping at the image of your entwined bodies.

“What the…” breathed Jimin as he noticed your tank top had ridden up, allowing them a glimpse of your lower back and some purple ink on your right side. 

“You said Y/n was awake, and now I am making her go back to sleep. It’s only 7 am. That is no time to break down a nest,” muttered Taehyung as he attempted to pull you even closer.

“Y/n, why are you breaking down your nest?” asked Jimin, stepping around Jungkook. His eyes take in the almost put-away nest, his memories trying to take over his mind. “Taehyung, who said you could be in her nest without permission, too!”

“Minnie-hyung, it’s okay. She isn’t in trouble. You aren’t in trouble,” Jungkook says, pulling Jimin into a hug as his scent starts souring.

“Taehyung! Let me at least look at them to talk to them,” you command as you try to turn around with your eyes closed while trying not to touch the firm expanse of his chest before you.  

Reluctantly, he loosens his hold and helps maneuver to make you the little spoon and him the big spoon. Burying his nose in the back of your neck and shoulder, he breathes deeply, allowing your sweet pea and vanilla scent to soak in. 

It’s then that he realizes that you have a tank top on. Nothing is a barrier between him and your pure morning scent at your neck. There are faint traces of some of the pack on you from the bedding, but it’s very faint compared to your natural, untainted scent. 

Your skin feels warm against his face and under his arm from where your tank has moved. He melts into that feeling of warmth and belonging. 

You belong in his arms, even if you don’t know it yet. 

“It’s a habit to put away and make my bed every morning, mother’s rules. Well, that, and I figured that you guys might want your things back. I can ask Derek or Evie to bring over some of my bedding or buy new ones,” you say to calm Jimin.

“It is also about time some of it gets washed, Jimin. I don’t want to make a bad impression on you guys,” you continue to focus on the now teary-eyed red panda. 

“You don’t,” Jimin starts before he pauses to wipe his eyes. “Sorry...” he clears his throat. “You can keep your nest up all year if you want to. No one will make you break it if you don’t want to.”

“Oh, it’s not a nest,” you smile and giggle. “It’s just bedding. Like a mountain of fluffiness with amazing smells.”

A low growl from the base of your neck vibrates through your body from the hybrid behind you, “It is a nest.” 

Moving to lean over you, Taehyung pulls you to lay on your back, saying, “You have scented bedding from each mate of the Bangtan pack that you surround yourself with every night.”

Jungkook sits next to your head, looking down at you, “You couldn’t sleep until you were surrounded by us, so to speak. Your instincts only settled once you smelt the pack.”

Your mind blimps out at the mention of instincts settling. You always knew the scents were important to you, but that’s just because you associated them with good things. So, why would the pack’s scents already be a good thing for you to relax in?

“My previous owners used to make me sleep without a nest,” Jimin says. “If I built one and didn’t break it down before anyone noticed, I would be beaten like a misbehaving animal.”

Your heart clenches at the similarities in your history, “My mom always said if you couldn’t make a proper bed, then how could you do anything of worth in a day? She would take a belt or shoe to me until I put it all away.”

As silent tears fall down Jimin’s face, you continue, “I learned to go to bed after she did and to wake up early enough that she would never know that I made my blanket fort.”

Low growls resounded from the two closest to you. 

“No more. If you want a nest, or whatever you want to call it, in your room, you can make one and keep it up,” says Taehyung.

“If you need new bedding because they are dirty or our scents have faded, please let us know. We will give you something else to add to your nest so that you will always feel at ease,” offers Jungkook.

“You could also, I mean, if you wanted to,” struggles Jimin. “You can also use our pack nest. I am sure the hyungs won’t mind. Or we can make a big one in the living room.”

“Jin mentioned you are the one who makes the nests for the pack, Jimin. He mentioned that maybe we could make one together. I told him I didn’t have a clue how to make a nest, just a fort,” you say before a growl interrupts you, but you continue, “but maybe you can teach me more about what makes a nest… well, a nest?” you offer.

“Really? Do you mean it? You want to make a nest with me?” he lights up, effectively melting the three of you on the bed. “I would love to teach you about nests. I haven’t seen yours fully made, but I would love to.”

“Then it is settled. We will make one together soon. I don’t know how late Namjoon and I will be home tonight, so I might not get a chance to make one before I crash out,” you thoughtfully mention.

“We got you. Just show us the nesting materials that need to be replaced, and maybe,” Hoseok glances at Jimin, “Jimin can have a nest built for you when you get home?”

“Ooohh, a personally built nest from Jimin? Why don’t I get that?” whines Taehyung as you giggle. 

“I could do that for you, Y/n, only if you wanted, though. I don’t want to overstep any boundaries,” offers Jimin, stepping closer to the bed.

“I would love to come home to a nest made by you,” you agree with a smile. 

Jimin only responds with a deep blush and a stilted whine, to which Jungkook and Taehyung chuckle. 

Taehyung looks at Jungkook and says, “That’s three times now she has done it.” Both of them picked up on you calling the packhouse “home.”

“It’s instinctual,” responds Jungkook as he leans forward, giving Taehyung a soft peck over you. All you can do is watch, but then you realize what you just saw and look away. 

“Ah, guys, umm... I should get to separating, and oh yeah! Breakfast with Hoseok,” you say as you wiggle your way out from lying between the two lovebirds. 

Standing up, you and Jimin make a lovely blushing pair, you from feeling like you are imposing on the two remaining on your bed and Jimin from the idea that you would love for him to make a nest for you. Taehyung and Jungkook end up laughing even more. The three of them end up helping you strip your bed completely, deciding that the central sheets were too chemical-smelling for them. 

You end up with three piles: those that need to be washed, those that need to be scented, and those that need to be tossed out altogether. Walking out of your bedroom with the maknae line in tow gains you some smiles from the rest of the pack. 

You are immediately brought into a hug by Hoseok, the only one sporting a frown, prompting you to ask, “What’s wrong, Hoseok?”

“I will have to cancel helping you get ready for the gala. I forgot I must go with Jin-hyung and Taehyung-ah to a meeting Namjoon-ah scheduled this morning,” he tells you. 

Pulling out of his hug, you look at the rest of the pack, who all have dopy looks on their faces. “What?”

Yoongi walks up next to you, his tail wrapping around you. “You smell like the young ones, and you let Hoseok hug you, Princess. That is a big step for you, no?”

Your face drops into thought at his comment. 

First, Taehyung grappled you while (and still) half naked, then Jungkook kept leaning against you to grab stuff, and Jimin laid his head in your lap as you discussed why you didn’t like how some of the material felt, hence the toss out pile.

That was a lot of touching. 

Now Hoseok is hugging you, but you don’t pull back until you notice the others watching the two of you. 

“I guess I am just trying to follow the hybrid pack mentality. Evie and Derek are also very touchy-feely. Getting around your idol and bonded mate status takes time,” you attempt to reason out.

“Anyways,” looking back at Hoseok. “I guess then it’s just breakfast with you, Tae, and Jiminnie? If that’s okay with you? It’s almost done. Jin-hyung is making us quiche,” he says with hope.

“Sure! I love quiches. Especially with spinach or mushrooms and tons of cheese!” you say, licking your lips. The action caught everyone’s attention for very ‘innocent’ reasons. “Where are we going to eat?”

“We can eat in the dining room, living room, or one of the dens, really wherever you want to?” offers Jimin.

“Well, I normally don’t eat in bed,” you say, making a few of them give you a shocked look. “Unless it's for a special reason. So, I think that living room would be more comfortable, but what about the rest of you?”

“I am headed to the gym near the guest house with Namjoon,” Jungkook says. “I'm going to grab my towel and meet you there, hyung.”

“I will head to my den and work on some solo stuff. Call me if you need me, Princess,” Yoongi says, kissing softly on your hair before going down the hall with his coffee. 

“I will eat in the kitchen and then get ready for the meeting,” Seokjin mentions as he bolts to the kitchen, hearing the timer.

Watching the pack runoff, you shake your head, “You guys really take things seriously, don’t you?”

Grabbing your hand, Hoseok pulls you to the couch and puts you in the middle, with Jimin on the other side. Taehyung heads to the kitchen to help Seokjin bring out everything.

“With a pack like ours, you kind of need to. I don’t understand how Alpha Seung-Cheol does it with 13 pack members,” comments Jimin. “Then again, they mostly have Betas and Omegas. Maybe it’s easier that way.”

“My Omega, Evie, comes from a pack of 10. They didn’t have an Alpha either, but her dad, Papa Earl, sure as heck acted like one.” Settling back against the couch, you smile softly, remembering the mixed cat pack.

“Besides being a larger pack of Alphas, I will always be serious about spending time with someone I think is worth it,” Hoseok says. “So yes, if anyone had stayed behind, they would have been sent off with orders to practice the updated dance routine or something.”

Draping himself over your shoulders again, he continues, “This is my time with you, Doll. Jimin-ah is lucky to be allowed to join, and well… Taehyung has no choice.”

“I heard that,” Taehyung says, bringing in plates of food. “She could have sent me away if she wanted me to go, but she is the only one who can right now.”

“Thank you, Taehyung,” you say as you accept your plate. “Wahhh, this smells amazing, Jin! Thank you for making it!”

Seokjin carries a tray of drinks as he blushes at your comment, “It’s nothing. I figured this would be quick and easy to make. There is more in the kitchen. I already saved food for anyone else who might eat. Now you all have fun.”

Seokjin follows through with his promise to eat in the kitchen and then go upstairs. No one walks through the living room while the three of you talk about what is to come for the boys regarding the tour. 

Taehyung adamantly chooses to sit on a pillow at your feet and feed you. Hoseok and Jimin tease him for being a ‘good boy.’ You don’t mind; eating hasn't been easy with your dominant hand in a brace. 

However, your eyes keep wandering to his bare chest, and you continuously internally scold yourself for the distraction. He is just helping in penance; it’s not sexual, it’s not flirting, it’s not the K-drama male lead feeding his lover move… it’s not!

Thankfully, no one has commented on your distraction, even though they have all noticed it. 

Taehyung keeps a mask of indifference while feeding you but still attempts to find ways to flex more when you look his way. There is a slight disappointment in your lack of reaction to his physical display, but he thinks you may be more for one to be chased. His Alpha doesn’t mind playing a game of cat and mouse with you– he is a tiger, after all.

Jimin internally laughs at your reluctance to give in and watch Tae’s muscles move with the darkness of his eyes as he feeds you. Meanwhile, Jimin notes that Taehyung is always eyeing your feet when you aren't looking at him, or he is not feeding you. Jimin wonders what color the tiger wants to paint them for you.

Hoseok, on the other hand, attempts to keep you engaged and help you while mentally preparing to scold the younger one for not getting dressed appropriately. However, the tint of arousal in your scent makes him question if he should praise the tiger instead.

By the time you are done eating, your stomach is full, and so is your calendar. Hoseok had noticed that you had not been added to the group calendar or the group chat since the meeting, so he added you to both. 

“Well, Doll, it was a pleasure having breakfast with you, but Tae-ah and I have to get ready for our meeting. We leave in about 30 mins,” Hoseok says, taking Jimin’s plate and nudging the tiger to stand.

“I think Hyung said the team would be here around 11 or 12 to have you ready. He also ordered you lunch,” Taehyung added as he took your plates and his to the kitchen. 

“So, I have a couple of hours till then,” you hmm, thinking of what to do. 

“I could show you the pack nest so you can see how big they can be,” timidly asks Jimin. 

“Oh sure,” you smile at seeing such a precious area. “Hoseok and Taehyung, I am going with Jimin. Have fun at your meeting. I guess I will see you later.”

“Probably not, actually,” Taehyung says with a scrunched-up brow. “I think Jimin and Yoongi are on guard for today, which is one of the only non-schedule things that would take me away from serving you as promised.”

“Yeah. So, Yoongi and I can be around you until the noonas come. When they arrive, we will make sure no one bothers or scents you until you are with Prime Alpha for the date tonight,” informs Jimin.

“Oh, that’s right,” you frown.

“Hey, hey,” Hoseok says, taking your hands in his. “Remember, no one is leaving you behind. We wish we were around you, but this is just something that helps our Alphas. Also, please allow Namjoon to show you who he is.”

“I will,” you smile. “Everyone deserves a second chance.”

You have never… NEVER… seen a pack nesting room that big. Maybe it was because they are all Alphas?  You know from Evie’s family that Omegas can get exceedingly picky about how a nest is set up. So, her packhouse ended up with 4 to 5 nests at a time. 

The other glaringly obvious difference between your ‘human nests’ and a hybrid Idol’s nest was the quality of the nesting material. If you thought the bedding in your room was luxury, then the nesting room was made for royalty. 

There were plans to take a trip to Hastens to pick out new materials for both the pack nest and your human nest. You tried to look it up, only to have Jimin take your phone away. 

Apparently, I shouldn’t waste my time looking because it can only be felt, and he was paying, so picking the cheapest won't work, especially since they don’t have a website and don’t list their prices. It’s one of those places you must reserve and leave your credit card on file to walk through the door. 

While in the nesting room, you respectfully stayed off the actual nesting bed out of respect, but that promptly went out the window when you stood up to greet Jungkook when he entered, and he bulldozed you on it. The excuse is that you can’t plan what you are doing if you don’t know how it feels. 

It was like a cloud and a lot colder than what you were expecting.

“How is it so cold with all these blankets on it?” you asked no one in particular.

“Cooling water system,” replies Namjoon, standing in the doorway in a gunmetal gray suit and tie similar to the one he wore yesterday, but this one just enhanced the colors of his hybrid ears and tail. “Since hybrids run warmer than humans and Alphas run the hottest, they came up with a tube-like cooling system with water that runs under the mattress.”

“Does it only cool, or can it heat?” you ask because you could totally use that in any bed you slept in.

“Y/n, with seven Alphas around, if you ever get cold… I am sure someone would be willing to warm you up,” says Taehyung as he walks into the nesting room dressed in a solid black-on-black three-piece suit. 

You unabashedly trail your eyes over his form. Like you can’t help it, his pants hug his legs almost like skinny jeans but formal. His jacket accentuates his muscular but slim build. 

“I, umm,” your eloquence is astounding. Luckily, a flying pillow from Jimin saves you.

“Yah, you can’t just go around saying things like that,” the panda yells.

Namjoon picks up the pillow and tosses it back on the nesting bed, “Taehyung isn’t wrong though, is he? Tell me which of us would deny a request to cuddle with Y/n to make her more comfortable in the nest.”

“Who is cuddling with my Dear in the nest? I get first dibs,” Seokjin says, wearing his drop-dead gorgeous brown sandstone suit. 

The hell?

When did you walk into a CEO/Hot Professor Fanfic?

You aren’t even walking; you are just lying there… they came to you.

“Sugar, you are starting to smell even sweeter. Are you gonna survive when we all have to suit up for an interview or an awards show?” whispers Jungkook.

Looking quickly at him, you see his face is super close to yours, and your breath catches.

“Yeah, no, maybe. Do I have to be there? I don’t think… won’t I be in the way?” you say again, showing exactly how much you didn't learn much in college, which is why you left.

“Alright, that is enough from you, mister,” Yoongi instructs from the door. “Give my Princess room to breathe. Namjoon-ah, the car is ready to take you to your meeting.”

“Thank you, hyung. Y/n, I will see you tonight. The team will be here in about an hour. I told them to set up between the living room and your room,” Namjoon says.

“Have a good time with our Prime tonight, Y/n. I hope I get a glimpse of you before you go. I missed seeing you dressed up for Jin-hyung,” sighed Tae.

“Maybe one of your guards will grace us with a quick shot, with your permission, of course, Doll,” mentions Seokjin. 

“I wouldn’t mind that. Yoongi? Jimin? Would either of you be willing to do that for your mates?” You ask, looking between the two of them.

“We can try, but we can’t get too close. Maybe we can find a way to do it when you walk to the car,” thinks Jimin aloud. “The open air will help our scent not cling to your dress.”

“Gotta get you used to all the camera flashes before you leave,” Yoongi teases. 

“Oh, that’s right, Y/n. PD-nim sent out the announcement that you would become our playmate this morning. Your director thought it would be best to do it now since the contract is signed,” announced Namjoon.

“So, I have to face the paparazzi, then,” you sigh. “There's no point in trying to skirt around it. All that would do is make me look weak and give you all a headache.”

“You will look amazing, my dear. Now, we had better go. Yoongi, make sure she relaxes and enjoys her time getting ready,” says Seokjin, hooking his arm in Taehyungs and pulling him out the door. 

“Bye, guys. Love you all!” Namjoon says as he bids farewell. You sigh internally, rolling your eyes because you know Lily would faint if they ever heard Namjoon say that.

“Wait for me!” yells Hoseok, running down the hall. Practically skidding to a stop, he pops into the nesting room. 

Yeah, you have Jungkook’s answer. You won’t survive all of them in a suit. You might have gone up in flames after seeing Hoseok in a fire engine red suit.

“Hey, Doll. I just wanted to say… have fun tonight. Namjoon-ah is more nervous than you are. I can promise you that! Bye,” says the marten hybrid, and off he goes to join the others.

You end up staring at the space where he was, flashes of the boys going around in your head with snippets of things they said like “Love you (all)” and “Someone would warm you up.”

“I think we lost her,” Yoongi says, standing closer than before. When did he move?

“Sorry, I was just thinking of ways to… deal with tonight,” you lie, trying not to reveal your not-so-innocent thoughts.

“Ah huh, we are just gonna pretend to believe you on that one,” comments Jungkook as he takes in the sweet tang of your arousal.

Pushing Jungkook away, Yoongi offers to help you, “Come on, I think you have time for a bath. The noonas have some way of washing your hair.”

Taking his hand, you stand up and follow him towards your room, “I already started a bath for you, but I think I may have to add more hot water. Namjoon asked me to use the vanilla bath bomb today. Is that okay with you?”

“Sure, vanilla or jasmine would be nice and calming, but can you put my hair in a bun to stay dry till the team gets here?”

Yoongi nods as you enter the bathroom. The scent of vanilla is light and pure, the tub is filled with bubbles, and some soft music is playing in the background. 

“I put a towel on the toilet again, but Namjoon’s bathrobe for you to use,” Yoongi points to the dark blue, almost purple silk robe hanging up. “As the Prime Alpha, he enjoys when his called upon to smell of themselves and him only.”

“So, Namjoon’s scent is vanilla?” you ask, your brain cutting through all the times you smelled vanilla. You could swear it was on everything, but it was never vanilla alone.

“Not exactly,” Yoongi hesitates to answer honestly because he cannot just say it is the pack's mate scent. If you knew that and could smell it, you were smart enough to know that 1 + 1 equals you’re their mate. 

“The vanilla compliments your natural scent, Princess, and it is considered a pack favorite,” offers Yoongi, hoping that he sounds convincing while putting your hair in a bun. 

Still, considering the different scents you have smelt with the pack, it would make sense that they all enjoyed it. You have also always loved vanilla-scented candles and flavored candies. 

Taking off your brace as Yoongi warms the bath, you ask, “So, I take it after I get in, I won’t see anyone till you and Jimin send me off like parents with their kid going to prom?”

“Prom?” Yoongi questions as he dries off his hands. “I think that is an American thing. But, yes, you won’t see us much until then. If you need anything, you can message the group chat or either of us individually.”

“Thank you,” you say as he excuses himself and closes the bathroom door.  

Stripping down and getting into the bath, you shake your head at the fact that here you are again, in the bath, thinking of how crazy things have been. This time, however, you are not as panicked. 

Well, sorta. 

The contract is signed because everyone wants you here. You want to be here. They feel something special is happening between the eight of you to the point of possible integration. 4/7 of them look damn good in a suit, and you are going to go to hell for your non-good girl thoughts. 

If they keep up the teasing, flirting, and various states of dress (Taehyung’s bare chest flashing through your head), you will have to find some personal alone time to release some of that particular tension. 

Finding that private time when Jungkook can apparently hear you roll over in bed will be a problem. Maybe your bathtimes can be a bit more relaxing…

Oh, who the hell are you kidding? You haven’t been able to get off since, like ever. Toys used to work until you lost the baby. Now, nothing works, just like your ex used to say. 

You are broken and disgusting.

But the honest attentiveness toward you and the heated looks from a few of the Bangtan pack have lit something inside you that you thought had been long dead. 

Maybe you aren’t broken, and maybe you aren’t that disgusting.

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