#to the top of the food chain. but he will always be that little mouse no matter how much he remakes himself into something terrifying

[raitrolling]

viltau is like the epitome of 'cool motive, still murder' because i could write a whole post about how he doesnt just enjoy killing people for the spectacle and to indulge in revenge fantasies and make a show of power to prove he is not to be messed with, but also because he sees comfort in the finality of murder. people die when they are killed, and dead people can no longer hurt anyone. izanam will never be able to harm jikiro or jamie again, eichio's lusus will never be able to harm eichio again (though he did not kill it with his own hands), and viltau's childhood bullies will never be able to harm him again-

but, at the end of the day. that's still murder, my dude

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - non/con, manipulation, mentions of breeding, and unbalanced power dynamics.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who's ecstatic the day his owner, Suguru, brings you home. He's the pinnacle of a spoiled pet, constantly showered in toys and treats and affection, but his owner's a busy man, and he tends to sulk when left home alone. He's had other companions before, another leopard hybrid who nearly killed him before being released back into the wild and a black panther who somehow proved to be a worse influence on Satoru than Satoru was on her, but you're supposed to be more permanent solution, another hosuepet to keep him company when Suguru can't. You're a sweet little housecat, all wide-eyes and raised ears, but still, Suguru wouldn't be surprised if you're begging to go back to the shelter less than an hour after meeting your new roommate.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who falls in love with you immediately. Suguru practically has to keep him in a chokehold while you explore your new home, eventually curling up on your new bed. Satoru's on top of you as soon as he gets loose, purring obnoxiously while he runs his bristled tongue over your cheek. Suguru's half-convinced that your first day's going to end with bloody claws and bandages, but you only nuzzle into his chest and knead at the blankets underneath you. Satoru's a difficult cat to put up with, and Suguru's relieved that you, at least, find him tolerable.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who's absolutely massive compared to you. The tips of your pointed ears barely reach his collarbones, and your wrist is only as thick as his fluffy tail. His favorite hobby quickly becomes carrying you from room to room despite your softly mewled protests, and he's not happy unless he's pressed against you as closely as possible. He used to force himself into Suguru's lap whenever possible, but now, he's unbearable unless you're sitting pretty in his. He doesn't even complain when you lose your temper and dig your little fangs (barely half the size of his - a poor imitation of a real predator's) into his arm, just grinning as he tugs at your ears and pinches your cheeks. He's not exactly a wild animal, but he's still at the top of his food chain. You're not quite a mouse, but you might as well be, compared to him.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who's calling you his mate after less than a full month. You don't know what it means, often parroting it back as more of a question than a term of endearment, and Suguru just brushes it off as Satoru being deliberately irritating. He keeps it up, though. even after you start refusing to respond to it.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who starts introducing you to new "games". You know you don't stand a chance against him, but somehow, he always manages to goad you into roughhousing, into squirming as he pins you under his full weight. He likes to dangle things above your head, to see how long it takes your instincts to get the best of you before your chest is pressed against his and you're pouting so adorably as you jump and bat at his hand. Sometimes, when you fall asleep mid-grooming session, he'll let his mouth wander lower than it should, and you'll wake up to his tongue lapping over your chest, his face buried between your thighs in a way that leaves you teary-eyed and warm. You've tried to tell Suguru, but you always get embarrassed and end up mumbling something as vague as 'Satoru's being mean to me, again.' In the end, Satoru only ever gets a slap on the wrist and a new reason to tease you, next time Suguru turns his back.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who fucks you whenever Suguru isn't home. He planned on waiting for your first heat (delayed by your shelter suppressants and the stress of a new home), and he knows he's not supposed to, but he just can't get enough of having your smaller body curled up underneath his, your tail thrashing from side to side as he lazily rolls his hips against yours. You tend to whine, at first, to go on and on about how weird it feels and how much it hurts, but as soon he gets his cock inside of you, all those complaints tend to go away. It's almost funny, how easily your stupid little kitty mind gets all hazy and cockdrunk. He always loves you, but he loves you most when you're drooling and purring for his cum, begging him to breed you properly between hitched moans.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who's not even mad when Suguru catches him bouncing your half-conscious, fucked-out body on his cock. He wants to be the best possible mate for you, and he couldn't do that if he wasn't willing to show you off <3

[mischieffae]

Immortal Ties | Loki x f!reader |

Summary:  Every year, the Gods descend to Midgard to choose mortal candidates for their brutal games.  If the last survivor wins, they will be blessed to have a seat within Valhalla and granted one glorious request.  Loki, God of lies and Tricks, settles upon his candidate Reader, a lone wolf desperate to claw her way from her harsh reality.  First chosen by mere curiosity Loki soon begins to realize they are more alike than he thinks.  Will the trickster fall head first for a mortal destined to win back her freedom?  And will you reciprocate said feelings for a God of Lies? 

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, blood, war games, eventual smut, cat and mouse, enemies to lovers

Chapter List - 1/? (this will be ongoing!)

Chapter 1: Hunger Strikes

A harsh punch struck your cheek, stars beginning to dance in your vision as you were lifted off the ground.  You’ve gotten yourself into trouble more times than you could count, but today was one of those days you would gladly take back.  Who knew that stealing an apple would cause this much havoc?  Ok, maybe it wasn’t just an apple, and perhaps one from the Goddess Idun herself, but at the time you were too hungry to care for the consequences.

Hunger always seemed to trump over sense.

You could feel a pool of blood begin to stir in your mouth, the copper tang causing your brows to knit before spitting upon the ground.  A small smirk formed on your face as the captor gripped tighter on your collar, shaking you with each biting word as if scolding a child.

“Is stealing apples your way of living, rat?”

You lift your chin defiantly, a single finger raised before giving a throaty chuckle.

“One apple, actually.  And don’t forget it’s golden hue.”

The farmer cursed under his breath before flinging your body to the ground, his hands patting together as if your very touch were filth upon his fingers.  A crowd had begin to form around you both, all eager to see how this show would play out.  But unfortunately for them, it would end all too soon.  Before the farmer could even turn his back, you were no where to be found, a puzzled look settling on his features. 

        · · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

“Here, don’t eat too much at once.”  

You threw the golden apple in your band of misfits’ direction, little hands lifting to catch the sacred fruit in excitement.  A mop of tousled brown hair peeked from behind a piece of hanging tapestry used as a doorway, his toothy grin widening happily.

“An apple from Idun?  How did you manage to get one of those?”

A group of curious eyes glanced in your direction, one of the children holding the apple as if it would burn their hands.  They were a rough patch, all ranging from the ages of six to sixteen.  The home life hadn’t been very kind to them, so naturally you gravitated to being their provider and mentor.  You had been living on the streets since the age of seven, so you’ve had your experience.  You had never belonged anywhere, always fighting for your way to the top of the chain while struggling to keep food in your belly.  If you could provide them with the things you did not have, your life would be fulfilled.

“Now now, you don’t ever question the whereabouts of a gift,” said Finn, the oldest child of the group.  He patted the curious one’s shoulder in reassurance, giving a small playful wink. 

“You really ought to be careful there.  If they catch you, we might become lost sheep without it’s herder.” 

You let out a teasing huff, settling yourself upon a decaying wooden crate while using a dagger to clean your nails.

“I’ve been doing this for a long time kid.  Catching me is hardly my concern.”

“But it is ours!  We-….”  Finn swallowed thickly, the other children noticing his tension.  “We would be astray without you.  Don’t make it harder for us than it is.”

The playful tone he once had soon dissipated with an unsettled aura,  the sound of munching apple filling the air as he whispered closely to your ear.  “You’ve done so much for us in such a short period of time.  Please, do not gamble fate.”

“Sometimes you need to gamble in life Finn.  You might win a mighty prize if you do.” His eyes filled with realization from your words, his throat bobbing with a thick feeling in his stomach.  “You mean to-..”

You could feel your heart clenching in your chest from his look of fear, but it was the only choice you had for their possible freedom.  The thought had crossed your mind countless of times before.  But now, it could possibly be reality. 

“If I can win the tournament, I can grant one request.  I can grant you all freedom, a life without hunger and fear.  A life where you will all be safe, happy, with a roof above your heads and a fire to keep you warm.”  You paused, tears threatening to fall from your eyes.  “You will all have the life you’ve always wanted, and I can sit in the halls of Valhalla knowing that you are all in good hands.”

“But you will be gone….forever.”

There was a long silence around you, those words a heavy weight you could not bear to hold.  Finn could sense your discomfort from the truth, knowing fully well that once your mind was made up it was almost impossible to persuade.  What if you did succeed?  What if they were able to have the life they always wanted?  But what if you didn’t?  What if you lose your life, and they lose not only their protection but their friend as well?

But, life is a gamble.  One that they all must take.  And if anyone deserved to have a happy ending it would be you.

Sensing the turn in thought, you reach for the young man’s hand with a warm embrace, squeezing tightly with a trembling smile.  You could only mouth the words ‘thank you’, tears running down your dirt covered cheeks.

He just hoped, and prayed, that they didn’t make a mistake.

                       · · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

You tug upon the hood of your cloak as you weaved in and out of the tight crowd of onlookers, the village’s once empty courtyard now riddled with excitement.  There was a cloud of dirt and smoke from the Bifrost’s landmark, various tall figures standing with a regal of importance.  There stood Thor son of Odin, Sif and the Warrior’s Three, and Loki Laufeyson, all eager to choose their mortal fighter.  The crowd hollered for acceptance, some trampling upon others to get in the front of the line.  It was like a hoard of mice.

Only one champion remained to be picked.  Loki’s regal blue eyes scanned the sea of onlookers, a slender hand outstretching to point at a brutish looking blacksmith.  The other hand, towards your direction.

“You, and you.  To the front.”  

A fire ignited behind your gaze, your lips forming into a smirk as the crowd dispersed to create a ring around you and the opponent.  This was it, this was the moment you were waiting for.

Your heart began to thud wildly in your leather bound chest, two daggers in each hand itching to land their mark.  

“You’re in my way, little mouse.  There is only one seat in Valhalla, and it shall be mine.” 

The blacksmith’s large war axe glimmered from the sun’s light, swaying back in forth in an intimidating motion.  But you have fought larger, and before you could form a retort the blade swiftly swung in your direction.  Easy, just move your body to the left and it will miss its mark.  Again, but the right side.  An irritated growl sounded from the attacker, your body moving in an elegant practiced form before landing a dagger to clang against metal.  He was faster than you would’ve liked, but still lacked the ability to properly dodge.  A hurl of your blade nicked his cheek, blood falling down freely to drip along his chin.  You stepped back to analyze more of the situation, his breathing heavy before launching himself forward in rage. 

This was the moment you were waiting for, a flaw in his stance.

With a dive of your body, you skidded along dirt to create a large cloud around you, his face contorting in confusion as your dagger embedded itself within the side of his throat.  Garbled sounds emitting from him, crimson coating your hand as you unsheathed yourself from his fallen body.

Silence, the crowd gazing dumbly from the actions that just transpired.  Your victory.

Your eyes linger upwards while catching your breath, landing upon the very God that would soon become your lifeline. His own gaze held mischief, a satisfied smile etching on his chiseled features.

“Let us travel to Asgard.”

Tag list because I almost forgot!!! @thefairywithboots @oswildin @stilleobjection @chokilaufeyson @aislinnshifts @rainbowfishstix @queen-b @astarions-girl-dinner

[theemporium]

Sirius Black was the bane of your existence.

In this world, it was a hunt or be hunted kind of world. Humans always assumed they were at the top of the food chain. They were ignorant and self-assured and always seemed to assume they were the predators everyone else should fear. They were stupidly arrogant with their own worth, and it was what made them the perfect prey for the true monsters at the top of the food chain—the vampires.

But that was where your kind came in, the true predators at the top of the food chain. 

You were the hunters. You were the ones who got rid of the fanged pests that roamed the Earth. You were the ones to protect the humans, to rid the world of the monsters that were nothing but parasites. 

And you were a good hunter. 

You were trained from a young age to be a killer of the killers. You were trained to be ruthless, merciless, unforgiving when it came to vampires. You were trained to evade their manipulations, to outsmart them, to beat them even if they are stronger and faster and older. You were trained to spot these monsters before you could even write your own name. 

It was your destiny, your fate, your legacy.

“Gonna poke me with your wee stick, love?” 

But for a reason that was beyond your understanding, the one vampire that always seemed to slip away was Sirius Black.

“Shut up,” you grumbled, panting softly as you straddled the boy with your knees pinning his arms to his sides and the stake in your hand just hovering over his chest. 

“What if I like the sound of my own voice?” He retorted, a teasing grin on his face as he looked far too relaxed for someone who was potentially seconds away from dying. 

It had been like a sick cat-and-mouse game. You would find him and trap him and have him in your grasp, and then he would slip away. He loved it. You hated it. But now you got him when he least expected it. The woods were currently swarming with other hunters that were looking for him, but now you had him. 

“I would say sorry to your ears,” you replied bluntly, pushing the tip of the stake deeper into his chest—just enough to make him a little hiss.

“Fucking hell, love,” he breathed out with a laugh. “You really don’t play about it.”

You ignored him, eyes narrowing in focus. “Any last words, Black?” 

“I have many words I would like to say to you,” Sirius confessed, the smirk still plastered on his face. “But I have a feeling they will just make you kill me faster.”

“You don’t seem scared,” you noted in annoyance.

“Why would I be scared when you’re on top of me, love?” Sirius remarked, watching in amusement at the way your face faltered a little with his words. “I happen to like attractive women sitting on me.” He paused as his grin widened. “Or on my face.”

“You’re gross,” you commented with a frown.

“But you’re not that disgusted, are you, love?” Sirius snapped back, raising his brows in a teasing manner when you fell quiet. “I can smell you, love. I know exactly how my words make you feel. I can hear how fast your heart is beating.”

“That’s just adrenaline,” you argued weakly.

“You want something that really gets your heart racing?” Sirius questioned, flashing you a glimpse of the sharp teeth poking his bottom lip. 

You barely had a chance to react before he had flipped you both over. Your body was pinned to the ground, the stake long gone and Sirius now covering your body with his own. He had your wrists pinned above your head, his other hand slowly tracing down your face despite you trying to jerk away from his touch.

“I could rip your throat out,” he mused as his fingers gently traced over your pulse point. “One move and you could be dead before you could even think about screaming for help.”

You squirmed beneath him. “Then do it.”

He just laughed, shaking his head. “But that’s not fun, sweetheart.” 

“Wanker,” you spat out, ready to say so much more until he rolled his hips against yours. An embarrassing noise left your lips, your cheeks burning when Sirius only grinned in response.

“Oh, you like that,” he hummed as he began to rock back and forth, letting out a low groan of pleasure. “Fuck, you don’t know how badly I wanted to fuck that attitude out of you.” 

You tried to pull on your wrists, tried to pull away from him but your attempts were weak, and you both knew that. You closed your eyes, trying to convince yourself that you didn’t enjoy it or that this was a part of Sirius’ sick game before he killed you. 

But then his head dipped down to your neck, his fangs scraping over a sensitive spot below your ear and you were arching into him. 

In another flash, you were pressed against a tree. Your hands were still pinned above your head, not that you were really fighting his hold now. His dark eyes found yours, something heated and primal shining that had you clenching your thighs together.

“I would have done this ages ago if I knew it shut you up so easily,” he commented jokingly, but your witty retort was lost on your lips when he was slipping his hand beneath the waistband of your training leathers. 

It was embarrassing just how quickly he had you crumbling, how quickly you gave into his touch despite the years of training to evade and avoid vampires’ tricks—including seduction. But he knew just where to touch you, knew just what spots tipped you over the edge, knew just how to make you whimper in that pretty, high-pitched way that he always dreamed of.

And before you knew it, both of your clothes were long gone, ripped and abandoned somewhere on the woodland floor as he fucked you against the tree. 

“What would your lil’ hunter friends say now?” Sirius teased as he gripped your thighs and guided your legs around his waist. “What would they say if they saw what a slut you were for some vampire cock?”

“Fuck you,” you muttered out between breathless moans as he thrusted into you, your tits bouncing with each move.

“I already am, sweetheart,” Sirius retorted, looking far too smug for your liking but you couldn’t even bring yourself to say anything. “And don’t you look fucking gorgeous when you’re all fucked out. My new lil’ toy, aren’t you, love?”

You whined, shaking your head but your walls clenching around his cock said another story.

“Gonna keep you around, sweetheart,” Sirius groaned, his teeth nipping your skin enough to make you choke on a gasped moan. “My pretty, cock-hungry hunter, hm? Think all my buddies are gonna be jealous.”

“Sirius,” you whimpered, feeling the coil in your stomach tighten at his filthy words. 

“Gonna fuck that stupid hunter training out of your head, love. You’re gonna be my cock-drunk whore, hm? My pretty slut.” 

And he could only take your response as a solid yes as you came on his cock, completely under his seduction and control.

.

[crowandmousewritingco]

A Taste of His Own Medicine

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x trans!reader x Ellaria Sand

Words: 3.1k

Rating: PG (there's some sexy flirting cause hey it's Oberyn plus some slightly darker elements)

Warnings: Attempted poisoning (reader receiving), getting revenge, sexy talk all around.

Summary: Someone was not happy about Oberyn winning his fight against the Mountain. Their new target? You.

Author: Mod Mouse (back from the dead)

You hated banquets. The food was always magically cooked and seasoned to perfect Dornish standard, and the wine was the top of the line. But it was the politics that brought down your excitement for such events. You would much rather be stuck in bed with Oberyn and Ellaria chatting and fucking the day away rather than hearing the annoying woes of some foreign dignitary. But Doran told Oberyn that if he missed another royal banquet that he would stop his access from the wine cellar. 

So begrudgingly the three of you prepared for the night festivities. To offset the unenthusiasm of the event, Oberyn insisted he have new outfits made for all of you to wear to such an event. His eyes had caught the attention of a local seamstress who was elated to create such beautiful outfits for the Prince who of course paid her handsomely. 

Oberyn made sure that he didn’t see the final product until the day of the event. He wanted to be surprised when he saw what masterpieces you both looked like in the new attire.  “You better have your eyes closed,” You called from behind the curtain where you and Ellaria were getting changed as you prepared for the evening’s events. 

“Of course I always obey my partners,” Oberyn replied from the bedroom. 

Finishing up the last touches you sneaked a kiss on Ellaria’s cheek before asking. “Are you ready, my viper?” 

Oberyn chuckled.” I’m always ready for you two.” 

You pulled the curtain aside and smiled as the both of you stepped into the bedroom. “Then open your eyes.” 

He obeyed and purred when he saw what you were modeling. For you a robe in a similar style as the Prince’s usual attire that sloped down your flat chest showcasing the prominent scars on your chest, marking you not only a man but a warrior. For Ellaria, a golden garment that flowed with her curves that followed down her body as easily as water flowed in the famous Water Gardens. A braided belt cinched at her waist giving her an hourglass figure both you and Oberyn savored at every chance. The fabric ended at her ankles leaving two long slits that exposed her legs up to her mid thighs. Golden chain adorned both of your necks symbolizing the partnership with Oberyn and was a gift for your one year anniversary. 

The sight made Oberyn saunter over to the two of you with an evil grin. His eyes hungrily took the creations. Oberyn’s fingers traced the metal down to your clavicle. “My darlings you look stunning in those garments,” He kissed your shoulder as his fingers tangled in the chains. He bit down on your neck as he pulled you in closer with the chain causing a gasp to escape your parted lips.

“My paramore, you mustn’t get our lover so riled up,” Ellaria teased as she pressed her body against your back, weaving her hands across your hips and resting them just above the hem of your pants. “We both know he can’t focus if he’s all worked up.” She nuzzled her nose against the other side of your neck just next to your pulse. 

“Gods be damned about this feast. You two are my meal,” You breathed raggedly as you hungrily kissed Ellaria, her soft lips pressing against yours. You wished you could keep kissing her throughout the night, keeping your flushed body company. 

Oberyn chuckled and kissed your cheek. “Unfortunately we must attend, but don’t worry my sunflower,” He paused to lean closer to your ear, “I will make sure you get all the sex and love for enduring such an affair.”  

Your body shivered as Oberyn’s body left your touch making you pout. Ellaria chuckled and kissed your cheek. “Now now little one you have both of us to accompany you.” 

Oberyn kissed Ellaria quickly before grabbing a cup of wine. “We will keep you by our sides for the whole event.” He leans down and while kissing your neck adds, “Plus I can tease you until we get back to our wedding bed.” He chuckled before taking along swing of the alcohol. 

“You two always know how to rile me up,” You shuttered and kissed Oberyn’s tan cheek. 

Ellaria smirked as she set the wine aside. “As much as I could watch you play, we must be seen at this event.” 

Oberyn sighed. “You are right my dove.” He offered his arms to both of you and you happily lace your arm through his, Ellaria doing the same. “Let us be off then.” 

The music grew in volume as you walked down the open halls of the Dornish castle. The ballroom was packed with people. Many nobles and lords across the kingdom of Dorne were in attendance, and even some foreign dignitaries were amongst the people mingling. You had always found these crowds to be overwhelming. 

Unconsciously you shifted your body to press closer to Oberyn’s side at the sight of the crowd, needing more of his touch to comfort yourself. Feeling your presence Oberyn glanced down at you and gently tipped your face up with his finger to meet his gaze. “My sweet dove, if this becomes too much, tell me and we will whisk you away to our bed for some much needed attention. My brother be damned.”

You relaxed and gently kissed his bicep. “I will love.” 

Oberyn smiled down at you before scanning the party. “Now let's find some refreshments.”

The event was in full swing. A glass of wine had eased your nerves and now your little group found a table, settled on Oberyn’s knee with Ellaria balanced on the other feeding each other the array of small snacks. You giggled as Ellaria would feed you fruit. Your tongue gently licking off the juices on her finger. Oberyn happily took in the sight of his lovers enjoying themselves.Time was flying by as your partners were the only thing in your vision. That was until Doran sauntered up to your table. 

“Ah brother I see you’re enjoying yourself,” Doran mentioned gesturing to the two of them. 

“Of course I am, I have the best entertainment in the kingdom right here,” He replied, kissing both Ellaria’s and your cheeks. 

“Yes and as much as I love seeing you with your um partners, you did promise to make yourself seen to the dukes and sorts here.” 

Oberyn gestured with his hands in a wide sweep. “People can see us can’t they?” 

Doran sighed. “Yes but you promised to talk to the Merchants Guild tonight lest you forget our little deal.” 

Your partner let out a long exhale before kissing your cheeks again. “My apologies, my paramores. I must attend to business.” He shot Doran a glare as you two stood up from his lap. “Forgive me. I shall return swiftly.” Oberyn followed his brother into the crowd. 

You sighed and took Ellaria’s hand in yours. “Well it seems like we must make our own fun now.” 

Ellaria kissed your lips with a quick peck. “Let's see what other delicacies we can occupy ourselves with.” You nodded and Ellaria led you through the crowded space. You weaved through the different groups of people chatting and laughing together. Everything seemed to be in order, but one strange person made you slow your pace. A hooded figure slipped around the corner, and you could swear there was a lion emblem on the back. 

“Everything alright my love?” Ellaria asked with a bit of concern etched on her face. 

You shook your head and kissed her softly. “Nothing my sweet. Oh look, they're putting out more sweets!” You said excitedly as you pulled Ellaria to the decorated spread. 

“Oh love, these look delicious,” You mentioned as your eyes scanned the fast array of food lined up for the guest’s enjoyment. Large beasts cooked to a golden brown dripped of oils and seasoning line the tables. As much as they were delectable to the sight, the desserts are what drew you in. Lines of freshly baked pastries and sweets arranged in a variety of patterns and shapes. The sight made your mouth water. 

One of the servants smiled as he set a tray of blackberry tarts in front of you. “If I may good Sir, these were made specifically for you at Oberyn’s request.” He smiled gesturing to the desserts. 

“Oh by the gods that's so kind of him! He knows I’ve been craving these,” You moaned as you grabbed two gently balancing them in your hand. “Would you care for one my love?” You asked. 

Ellaria shook her head. “As much as they look delightful, I am not one for berry desserts.” 

“More for me then,” You lightly tease and kiss her cheek. 

Your partner picked out a few desserts for herself. “I hope you enjoy them, Sir.” You gave a small head nod to the servant as you and Ellaria headed back into the crowd. 

“Now let's go to the gardens. It is unbearably stuffy here,” Ellaria mentioned gesturing to the crowd. You giggle and once again let her lead you to your destination. 

The scent of flowers hit your nose and you took a deep breath of the sweet aroma of the fast variety of blooms that filled the greenspace. The fountains trickled with water as it flowed throughout the greenery. Many arrays of flowers and foliage sprouted on the pathways contrasting against the rough stone. There was a variety of places to sit and enjoy the beauty of nature including some delicately carved marble benches. 

“Here is perfect,” You said pointing out a stone bench just enough away to be quiet, but close enough to still enjoy the ambience. 

Ellaria kissed your cheek and settled herself against the stonework. You sat beside her but wasted no time digging into the desserts. The soft and warm jam hit your tongue as it mixed with the buttery crust. “Oh by gods this is almost as good as sex.” 

Your partner chuckled. “Better than sex?” 

You playfully nudged her arm. “I said almost.” You share a quick laugh as you continue eating, spending only small moments savoring the dish. The tarts had disappeared by the time Ellaria finished one of her desserts. 

“Well someone enjoyed himself,” Ellaria teased as she kissed your cheek. 

“Can’t help myself. You know how I like to indulge,” You smirked as you kissed her lips. 

“Of course. How can you not indulge when Prince Oberyn has an eye for you,” Ellaria teased, taking your hand in hers. 

“A whole new world of possibilities has been opened to me since our first night,” You smile, leaning your head on her shoulder, enjoying the warm Dornish evening. 

“I’m glad it was you whom I can enjoy those possibilities with,” Ellaria sighed, kissing your head. You let yourself cuddle up next to her letting your stomach digest the delicious treats. But as the minutes ticked on, something started to feel off. 

You squinted, feeling a pounding in your skull as if something was trying to break out of your head. Where were you? Was this always your reality? What even was reality? Your mind spiraled at an alarming rate. Words and voices that you swear weren’t yours whipped around in your head. You must have let out a small whimper because Ellaria turned to you. 

“Darling what’s wrong,” Ellaria asked with a hint of worry in her voice, but that seemed so distant. When you didn’t answer her she asked again this time kneeling in front of you cupping your cheek in her hand. 

Ellaria frowned when she touched your skin. “You’re burning up,” She gently remarked as she felt your forehead. Sweat was already forming in your hairline as you tried to take deep breaths but somehow didn’t feel the need to. 

You tried to reply but your stomach cramp so hard that it sent you bent over pressing your heated skin into Ellaria’s cool shoulder. The whispers grew louder as you felt your stomach churn earning a gag emanating from your mouth. 

The world blurred as you felt Ellaria shift, her hands grasping the back of your head soothingly. Her voice said something but you didn’t understand what words were right now. The voices were loud and another whimper escaped your dry lips. 

“You’re okay Oberyn will be here soon,” You heard her comfort you as she shifted underneath you. The sudden movement made you gag again and Ellaria cursed under her breath as she shifted you up and away from her shoulder. The movement was just in time for you to throw up on the stone pathway with wet coughs. 

Minutes stretched as you heaved the remnants of your treats seeing the light of day again. You tried to catch what little breath you were able to get into your lungs, making your head spin more from the lack of oxygen. A hand soothingly rubbed up and down your back trying to give you some sort of comfort. A flash of yellow entered your vision as you heard the muffled voices of speaking once again. Another body entered your peripheral as a pair of strong hands touched your forehead. 

“Dove dove, can you hear me?” Oberyn asked gently, bringing your gaze back up to his. Your blurry eyes could barely make out both of your partners looking at you with intense worry. You whimpered softly and Oberyn leaned in to kiss your slick forehead. 

“Shhh everything’s okay. Let me look at you.” He gently lifted your hooded eyelids with his thumb assessing your eyes. You weren’t sure what was happening but the next thing you knew Oberyn was calling out for a Maester. Soon Ellaria replaced Oberyn when the Maester arrived, and hurriedly explained the situation. 

But you weren’t holding onto any of that. The world was slipping and you felt yourself trying to drift into unconsciousness. “No no not yet dove,” Ellaria gently shook you as Oberyn continued discussing with the Maester. She brought your head into her hands caressing the slick skin. “Stay with us,” She softly commanded as Oberyn knelt beside her once again. 

“Tip his head back,” He softly commanded as he uncorked a small bottle. 

Ellaria did as she was told and gently tipped your head back. You whimpered at the sudden shift and both of your partners shushed you softly. 

“Keep your mouth open,” Oberyn instructed as he tilted the vial into your mouth. The liquid slipped down your throat leaving an herby and spicy tang on your tongue. “Good boy. That’s it, everything’s okay.” He cooed and guided your head to his shoulder. But before you could make it, the world finally went black finally giving you a respite from these hellish symptoms. 

Soft whispers brought you back to consciousness. You opened your eyes, but quickly closed them again when the world was too bright. A few seconds went by before you tried again this time adjusting to the light around you. A steady pounding in your head made you want to stay asleep where the pain was absent, but soft voices piqued your interest. Oberyn and his head guard talked quietly off in the corner, Oberyn’s concern lacing his words. 

“We have to find him. I’m not letting him live after this,” Oberyn growled softly. 

“I know he won’t escape. We have witnesses noting his movement since he left the party. We’ll catch him before he gets on that boat,” The guard replied.

“Good now go gather as many guards as we can take with you,” Oberyn commanded and the guard bowed before slipping through the ajar door.  

A gentle hand caressed your hair in soft touches. You shifted your head slightly to get a better look. At your movement Ellaria glanced down and smiled when she saw your tired eyes. “My dove, you're awake.” 

Oberyn’s head whipped around when he heard his paramore speak. He was at your side in an instant, taking your hand in his. He planted a soft kiss on the palm. “My dear, are you alright?” He asked, kissing your forehead. 

“What happened?” You asked, your throat hoarse from being unused. 

Oberyn glanced up at Ellaria with a frown. “You were poisoned my dear.” She answered gingerly, running her fingers through your hair. 

“Poisoned?” You sat up a little at his words causing a cramp in your stomach. You winced and Ellaria gently guided you back down to the bed. A whimper escaped your chapped lips as the pain mellowed out. 

“Yes it seems like someone wanted to hurt me…by hurting you,” Oberyn explained softly kissing your temple.

“But why would anyone want that?” You asked, tears welling in your eyes. 

“Shhh my sweet dove,” Oberyn shushed as he gently laid down beside you pressing his body into your heated skin. “We’re figuring out why now. Can you tell us what happened?” He asked gently, caressing his fingers against your cheek. 

You nuzzle your face against his chest before settling. “Um all I can remember is we went to get some desserts and there were these delicious berry tarts that they said you had requested for me. And then we went to the garden where I enjoyed those tarts and soon after…” Your voice trailed off and you blinked your eyes closed trying not to cry again. 

“Tarts what tarts?” Oberyn asked in confusion, lacing his words as he gently stroked your cheek. 

“They said you had requested them to make those tarts,” Ellaria added, looking down at her partner. 

Oberyn frowned. “But I didn’t…” His voice trailed off and he scowled. “Those tarts. That’s how he poisoned you.” 

You opened your eyes to look at him, and he continued. “It was belladonna berries. They appear to be any other berry. So this person brought the berries to the chef ordering him to make these tarts using my name to get to you.” Oberyn scowled. 

You squinted as you tried to recall more of your memories. “There was a stranger darting out the door when we approached the dessert table.” 

“The head guard is gathering his forces to capture that man,” Oberyn reassured you before kissing your forehead. 

“There’s something else though.” You stated. “The stranger was wearing a cloak of some kind, but, I might be wrong, I think the cape had a lion embroidered on it. 

“A lion why would…” Ellaria started before her eyes went wide. 

“Why what?” You asked looking between your partners. 

“Those filthy Lannisters,” Oberyn growled and you were taken aback by how angry your viper had become. You had never seen your paramore so angry before. “Coming to take revenge on me.” 

“Oberyn?” You asked softly, placing your hand on his bicep soothing him with strokes of your thumb. 

The prince glanced down at you, a sense of eerie calm washing over him. “Don’t worry dear.” He kissed your forehead. “Don’t worry about anything.” 

You wanted to believe him, but staring at his almost black eyes, you could still see the anger brewing in his soul. War was coming for the Lannisters. 

All Works Taglist

@for-a-longlongtime @romanarose

Pedro Character Taglist

@littlemisspascal @burntheedges

@carusolikey @thebeldroramscal

@morallyinept @lady-bess

@pedrostories @rivnedell

@pascalsanctuary @readingiskeepingmegoing

Thanks to the lovely @tsunami-of-tears for the pretty dividers!

[zeroseuniverse]

Favorite Game

Word Count: 1.4K Summary: “Take off the disguise before you pick a fight with me.” She huffed, already having a rough day, she just wanted to complete her mission and move on with her night. “Ooh someone is feisty today.” Beomgyu taunted as he allowed his body to shift back into a human and landed right Infront of her, his body crouched as he looked through his eyelashes up at her. Pairing: Beomgyu X Fem Reader

Disclaimer: Please be aware that this is apart of the from the ashes series. This series will have aspects of violence, weapons, angst, blood, injuries, killing, and will heavily focus on oppression and segregation of mutants, Look after your mental state if any of these make you uncomfortable please.

Series Masterlist

The world had changed so fast—as soon as the mutant announcement hit the papers, it was like everyone decided overnight that people like him didn’t belong, and he couldn’t outrun the fear, the anger, or the sudden realization that he was prey in a world of hunters. The first time Beomgyu turned into a wolf, it wasn’t to hunt or fight—it was to escape, a desperate attempt to outrun the world that had always been quicker to cage him than understand him.

The tale had been spun many ways, driven by the oppression mutants were out for revenge, bodies began dropping as neighbors accused each other of carrying the gene and being a danger to the community. If you asked Beomgyu this was all just an excuse for humans to act out their darkest desires, killing those they once welcomed into their homes. Monsterization didn’t begin with mutants, centuries have gone on carrying tales of humans murdering humans in cold blood, even animals fell victim to their hands. Now someone topped the humans on the food chain and they were scared, their fear fueling the propaganda to exterminate the mutants, or even some encouraging testing to spread the mutations to make everyone of equal power.

He perched himself on one of the powerlines, watching as person after person entered a testing facility. He wondered if these idiots would realize that they were just being fed placebos, being scammed out of millions for something that didn’t work. But then again, fear had a way of clouding people’s judgment. The place wasn’t a lab; it was a trap. A way to gain control over everyone. The world was cruel, and Beomgyu had stopped caring whether it was ever going to change. All he could do now was survive.

His ears picked up the subtle sound of scraping, turning his head to face the roof next door. His face lit up into a mischievous grin. He was happy some things never changed, there she was. Her movements were similar to a cat, stealthy and sly. It’s time, his favorite show is starting. Beomgyu silently leapt from the powerline, landing gracefully on the roof of the next building. He crouched low, just out of sight, watching her with a mix of admiration and amusement. She was always a challenge, always a puzzle, and the way she moved was almost too perfect. “There you are, princess. Let’s see if you’re as good as I remember.” He hummed, sneaking around the roof. She wasn’t easy to track. He knew that from past encounters. Her agility, her quiet footsteps—she could slip past him before he even realized she was there. But that’s what made it fun. Chasing her was like playing a game of cat and mouse, only the mouse was clever, and the cat was anything but patient.

He shifted into a raven, dark wings cutting through the air as he took off silently, circling above her. Beomgyu knew she’d feel the change before she saw it—he’d make sure of that. The thrill of the chase surged through him, the anticipation building with each beat of his wings.

“Careful, little one. You never know what’s waiting,” He teased, his voice sounding so taunting, causing the prey to freeze, her eyes scanning the sky. The game had begun.

“Take off the disguise before you pick a fight with me.” She huffed, already having a rough day, she just wanted to complete her mission and move on with her night.

“Ooh someone is feisty today.” Beomgyu taunted as he allowed his body to shift back into a human and landed right Infront of her, his body crouched as he looked through his eyelashes up at her. Her heart stuttered, it would be a lie if she had said she didn’t think Beomgyu was attractive, and every time his brown eyes met her own she couldn’t help but wonder what secrets lingered behind those sorrowful eyes.

“I have business to do, can you not bother me just this once?” She asked, her sunken eyes almost striking a chord within Beomgyu- almost.

“Whose the target today?” He wondered, peering over the edge to look at the crowd of people, “Could it be that old bald man? Oh or how about that blabbering nerd trying to justify their motives to the protesters.”

Her gaze followed him, but she was already growing impatient with his antics. “Not your business, Beomgyu.” She tried to stay focused, but the pull of his presence made her nerves buzz.

“Maybe,” Beomgyu continued, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips, “but watching you is always my business. Besides, you’ve got that look in your eyes again. What’s really going on behind that mask of yours?” She took a breath, her chest tightening as she tried to push away the strange tension in the air.

"I’m not here to entertain you." He leaned in closer, the teasing edge in his voice deepening. “Then why do I feel like you’re always trying to run away from me?” Their proximity was almost unbearable, but she kept her gaze steely, not willing to let him see how much he affected her.

“I’m not running away from you,” she shot back, though the slight tremble in her voice betrayed her. “I just have a job to do, and you’re making it difficult.”

Beomgyu tilted his head, his grin widening as he took a step closer, the playful edge never leaving his tone. “Is that so? Or maybe it’s just that I make things interesting for you.” He reached out, fingers brushing the edge of her sleeve, his touch almost deliberate in its casualness. “A little too interesting for someone trying to hide something.” Her heart skipped, but she pushed the reaction down, fighting to keep her cool.

“Don’t touch me,” she snapped, stepping back a pace. Beomgyu raised an eyebrow, his grin deepening as he observed her reaction.

“What? Not even a little bit of fun? You’re no fun at all.” He didn’t move, his posture still casual but his eyes never leaving hers, filled with that same unsettling curiosity. “You’ve been running from me for months now, haven’t you? Always playing this little game, acting like you’re not curious about me at all.”

She clenched her fists, trying not to give in to the pull of his words. “You’re delusional.”

“Am I?” Beomgyu stepped forward, his voice softer now, but his tone laced with something dangerous. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention.” He paused, his gaze flickering down to her lips before returning to her eyes. “You’re not fooling anyone, you know.”

Her breath caught in her throat, but she recovered quickly, masking the brief flutter in her chest with a forced smirk. “If you’re so clever, why haven’t you figured me out yet?”

“Because I’m still having fun watching you squirm,” he replied, his voice a whisper now, as if the air around them had thickened with tension. “But soon, I will. And when I do, you won’t be able to run anymore.”

She took another step back, this time to steady herself, but the words lingered in the air, hanging between them like an unspoken challenge. “You’re too sure of yourself.”

“And you’re too stubborn for your own good,” Beomgyu shot back, his smile never wavering. “But I’ve got all the time in the world. Eventually, you’ll crack.” The tension was thick now, crackling with something both volatile and alluring.

Beomgyu’s eyes softened just a fraction, as if he recognized the fight in her—and the way she tried so hard to hide what he could see so clearly. “I don’t need you to figure me out,” she finally said, her voice low but fierce. “I’m not your puzzle to solve.”

Beomgyu studied her for a long moment, before his expression shifted into something almost tender—a rare moment where his walls seemed to falter. “Maybe you are,” he murmured, almost to himself. “And that’s what makes it fun.” The words lingered between them, heavy with the weight of something unsaid. She opened her mouth to respond, but Beomgyu was already turning, his footsteps light as he moved toward the edge of the roof. “Don’t make me chase you again,” he called over his shoulder, that taunting note returning to his voice. She stood frozen, her heart pounding, trying to make sense of the mix of emotions rushing through her. “I’ll be waiting,” Beomgyu added, just before vanishing into the shadows. Her breath escaped in a quiet rush, and for a moment, she was left with nothing but the sound of her own heartbeat and the feeling that this game between them was far from over.

[ninetyminutes]

Saturday Night - Daemon AU

Okay so some of these were harder than others, especially Lorne. I’m VERY open to other ideas, in fact, please give me your thoughts because I’m indecisive and love hearing what others have to say :)

Lorne Michaels - Unsettled/Clouded Leopard(?)

unsettled because he’s lowkey this mysterious enigma that no one can seem to entirely figure out, like people on SNL were obsessed with trying to figure him out but many really couldn’t. I feel like he’d switch between animals like a Fox, River Otter, Cheetah, Red Wolf, Crow, maybe even a Goose that bites peoples ankles idk

if he does eventually settle, like if I were to write this (and I might) I think I might chose something like a clouded leopard but idk y’all

clouded leopard is giving “small but mighty” vibes like you don’t realize they’re that small until you see them in person and also they just look super young no matter how old they really are

I feel like Lorne’s daemon needs to balance him out a bit like they could be something a little less high energy/ act first think later and more calm and calculated, hence the clouded leopard

but they could share some other traits like being extremely clever and confident, having this “I know what I want and I want the best” sort of vibe

Lorne is not confrontational like he seriously avoids it at all costs and feels threatened when put into those types of situations (real Lorne gets genuinely angry), which totally fits Clouded Leopard since they’re typically elusive

Others Considered: River Otter (very close 2nd, aren’t typically characterized as ambitious), Snow Leopard, Cheetah, etc.

***way more people under the cut ***

Rosie Shuster - Mink

independent woman who doesn’t let herself be defined by a man

maybe a little bit manipulative but NOT maliciously, more so clever and very convincing

more confident than arrogant, but is very witty and doesn’t shy away from snide remarks

Others Considered: River Otter

Chevy Chase - Swan

I’m not entirely sold on this one ngl so I’m accepting suggestions

arrogant and egotistical, truest definition of a pot stir-er, can be problematic, self centered

swans are loud af and also kinda aggressive which fits because Chevy is always running his mouth making rude comments and jokes about other people

Others Considered: Peacock, Coyote, African Painted Dog

John Belushi - Binturong aka Bearcat

binturongs are pretty aggressive animals tbh like do not mess with them

Gives another meaning to when Rosie tells John “with all that fur”

bearcats have the eyebrows™️

Others Considered: none because I’m too convinced with the idea of the Bearcat

Dan Aykroyd - Belgian Malinois

was originally African Painted Dog but I think Belgian Malinois might fit better

totally giving happy go lucky dog vibes

crackhead vibes for sure

Others Considered: African Painted Dog, Raccoon, Dingo, Golden Retriever, Australian Shepherd or maybe Border Collie

Andy Kauffman - Umbrella Cockatoo

idk the weird bird thing just kinda fits, you know?

Others Considered: Sun Conure, almost any parrot/macaw type bird tbh, Peacock (for the wierd factor, not the beauty), Mouse

Billy Crystal - Meerkat

def meerkat vibes

his African safari sketch

totally reminds me of Timon from Lion King, probably because he sounds a LOT like Timon from Lion King

Others Considered: none, it’s too good

Dick Ebersol - Beaver

kinda nervous and seems not super confident but is a network executive so he’s got to have some sort of backbone

a bit of a pushover until he’s not, like he can speak up for himself

very logical thinking and pretty smart I’d say, definitely prioritizes the facts which is definitely giving Beaver vibes

Others Considered: Ferret, Burrowing Owl

David Tebet - Leopard

it’s giving arrogance, ego, hotshot, top of the food chain, “I’m more important than you”, and “i can end your career with the snap of my fingers”

aggressive and threatening, overall just really really intimidating like just seeing them lurking or stalking in the background would be terrifying

Others Considered: Raven, Golden Eagle, Mountain Lion

Michael O’ Donoghue - Wolf

but specifically a darker furred one because his nickname is genuinely the “dark prince” so like c’moooon

it’s cliche on purpose

like he’s giving lone wolf but also protect my pack vibes? but a lot of lone wolf, dark horse sort of energy

Others Considered: Wolverine, Tasmanian Devil, Mountain Lion,

[1kook]

new parent syndrome

— kim namjoon x (f) reader

SUMMARY You love Namjoon, honest. But you love your daughter Hyejoo even more— it’s not a controversial sentiment when you know he’s the same way! —and going back to a regular adult life sans kids absolutely sucks. (Or so you thought.) WARNINGS dilf!joon, dreamy husband joon, loving parents au, jimin is also a dad, bathtub sexy times, exhibitionism 😳 kinda sorta, tiny praise kink, joon calls her wifey TT, fingering, cunninglingus, doggy style, it’s kinda cheesy n romantic /.\, unprotected sex, …. impreg kink RATINGS m (18+) WC 9.5k 

NOTES writing parent fics is harder than i thought :/ i had this idea last week n was like yes, lets write this fic that absolutely no one asked for... except me! <3 so here we are, fantasizing about dreamy dad joon.... as always i have to thank rumu ( @kigurumu​ ) who is kind enough to edit these n b like that don't make no sense -_- anyway lemme know what u think !! enjoy !!

No matter how hard you try, the letter f refuses to fit itself into Hyejoo’s phonemic understanding. She’s a growing toddler so it’s only normal that there are sounds she still can’t pronounce, words she doesn’t quite get. But her inability to say food or family or friends, which are undoubtedly the three most important things in her three year-old world right now, is definitely a setback you didn’t see coming. 

Your worrywart husband has taken matters into his own hands, using the power of Google and about twelve parenting books to create an extensive, one-hour-a-day, mini lesson to try and increase her pronunciation skills. Of course, Hyejoo already attends daycare in the mornings while you and Namjoon are off at work, and gets sufficient learning done there. So she can’t exactly sit through Joon’s lectures, no matter how pretty he tries to decorate her flashcards. She’s still tiny— she’s still your baby, and you want her to enjoy the last of her daycare years before you’re forced to submit her to the worst twelve years of her life (also known as compulsory education). 

But as you’ve mentioned before, Namjoon doesn’t quite feel the same way. 

“She can’t sound out the letter,” he mopes in bed that night. He’s laying down beside you, face smushed against your thigh. The lamp on your side of the bed is the only thing on, casting a faint golden hue on his cheeks.

This conversation has occurred a variety of times these past few weeks, and you’ve just about ran out of every comforting reassurance possible. You settle on stroking a hand through his hair. There are emails to respond to and clients to check in with, but there’s also a huffy husband in bed beside you who quite pitifully crawls up into your arms. 

It’s with his face between your boobs that he speaks again. “What if she’s getting made fun of at school? Or her teachers think she’s dumb?” You roll your eyes. “My baby is not dumb, __,” he says, as if you don’t know. “Her IQ came back above average when I took her to the development specialist that one time, remember?” You have half the mind to tell him an IQ test on a three year old isn’t exactly valid, but there’s already enough stacked on his plate. Finding out he wasted a hundred bucks for an invalid test would just be the cherry on top of all his worries. 

Water clings to the very tips of his hair, remnants of his bath with Hyejoo. Namjoon is getting older now, nothing like the dashing grad student you had met what feels like a lifetime ago. There’s bags under his eyes, bags that surpass any all-nighter-pulling college student’s, induced by none other than the sheer power of becoming a parent. And still, he retains his beauty, looks like a doll with his skin so dewy from his skincare routine, lips puffy and red and kissable. 

He looks up, and you take the opportunity to place a kiss on his lips, his familiar scent making you melt into his arms. When he pulls away, there’s still a subtle furrow between his brows. 

“Hyejoo is fine,” you reassure him, carding his brown hair out of his face. He leans into the touch, eyes falling shut. “Our girl is the smartest three year-old out there,” you huff, feeling the slightest bit annoyed that he could even insinuate otherwise. “And if she was having problems at school, you know I would be the first one in there, fighting all the other moms.” 

Namjoon relents, face falling back into its haven between your tits. “Okay,” he mumbles, muffled from the way his plush lips drag against the soft skin over your sternum. 

The subject of Namjoon’s worries is in the other room sound asleep, not the least bit concerned with measly letters and sounds. It’s really only Namjoon who is, his stack of letter flashcards glaring at you from on top of the dresser. “Your mother hen is showing,” you tease as he slips beneath the covers, leaning over you to flick off your lamp. Just like everything else in your house, his t-shirt smells like him. It’s a natural, woodsy scent that floods your nostrils and makes your toes curl when he comes so close. 

Namjoon snorts as he settles beside you, beefy arm pillowing your head as he pulls you close. “I’m not a mother hen,” he says, hand on your waist, the tantalizing expanse of his neck before your eyes. “I’m the rooster— the cock,” he snickers, and you reward his terrible attempt at a joke with a pinch to his side that has him retreating to the other end of the bed. 

Hyejoo’s best friend in the entire world— or, as she says, her best pren in the entire world —is none other than Park Yerin from daycare. As the universe would have it, Park Yerin is also the one and only daughter of your college philosophy seat neighbor, Park Jimin. 

Crossing paths with him later down the road was not something you could ever anticipate, especially when you and Jimin were never that close in college to begin with. It was the only class you had with him in all four years, one where you had quietly acknowledged his charisma and occasionally shared homework answers, before never speaking to him again. You could have greeted him on campus, as you often crossed paths. But Park Jimin was a walking friendship magnet who seemed to bring with him a parade of followers everywhere he went, and approaching him required three layers of strategic planning if you wanted to catch him alone. 

So bumping into him at the entrance of Hyejoo’s daycare six years later comes as a bit of a shock. You had never pegged him as the type to settle down so quickly— you don’t mean to label him, but there were certain college stereotypes that he fit like a glove —but there he was, carrying the tiny love of his life who’s currently dressed in a bright pink Minnie Mouse dress. 

Unsurprisingly, just like her father, Park Yerin has the same enthralling personality that makes everyone in the three to four year-old daycare class want to be her friend, and your sweet little Hyejoo is not exempt. 

Long story short, out of all the kids at Sunny Side Daycare, Yerin is Hyejoo’s favorite, and Hyejoo is Yerin’s favorite. 

So now it’s been a little over a year since the two girls have established their friendship, which means it’s been a little over a year of acquainting yourself with Jimin again. He’s a house husband, something you never expected, and he loves his daughter like no other. Some afternoons after daycare are spent with Jimin and Yerin at the nearest coffee shop, watching the girls haphazardly scribble over every piece of paper they can get their hands on while the two of you catch up. 

Overall, you’re happy Hyejoo can have a friend like Yerin, and secretly, you're also happy you can finally befriend a fellow parent as nice and put together as Jimin. On top of that, Namjoon’s liked him on the few occasions he’s met him; the two have even gone out for drinks. 

However, befriending Jimin and Yerin comes at a cost, and that cost is seeing your little girl grow up.  

It’s your turn to mope. 

“Yerin asked her to sleepover,” you groan, sadly patting in your skincare routine the next night. Namjoon is somewhere behind you, his naked back glaring at you through the reflection of your vanity mirror. He’s so broad and big, sleep shorts clinging to his waist as he lotions up his body post-shower. There’s a thin gold chain around his neck that glints everytime he moves around, biceps flexing and bulging in plain view until he finally slips his shirt on. There was a time in your life where his back could not go more than two days unscathed, your rabid (read: horny) claw marks painting rosy trails down his spine. These days, you can barely remember the last time he’s held your hand. 

“Who?” he asks once he’s settled beneath the covers with whatever book he’s reading now and his thick-rimmed reading glasses. 

“Who else,” you say, tugging your night robe closer to your chest as if it’ll prevent your heart from breaking anymore than it already was. “Hyejoo’s first sleepover,” you sigh. 

You take it harder than you imagined. In the back of your mind, you’ve always known your little girl was growing up— hello, you were literally watching her grow more and more inches every single day —but you had convinced yourself she would stay your baby for a little while longer. As much as you wanted her to see and learn about the world, you selfishly wanted to keep her home too. She was your baby, your only one at that.

At least Namjoon feels the same way. “Absolutely not,” he squawks, abruptly slamming his book shut. He’s usually really meticulous about lining up his fancy bookmark right on the line he left off on, so his sudden carelessness tells you all you need to know about how he feels. 

You sit down beside him, hand over his. “It’s Yerin’s birthday,” you inform him in what you hope is a comforting tone; unbeknownst to him, you’re trying to reassure yourself as well. “And Jimin said he and his wife are gonna be there the whole night.” You trust Jimin, you really do. If there’s anyone who’s more in love with their kid than you and Namjoon, it’s Jimin. He would never let anything happen to his Yerin, and by extension, he would never let anything happen to your Hyejoo. He’s a good dad. 

Namjoon rubs at his eyes. In the span of two minutes, he’s aged about five years. “No,” he sighs softly, squeezing your hand tightly. “Once she starts going to sleepovers she’ll start wearing makeup and getting into relationships and having her heart broken—“ 

A kiss is enough to silence him when he gets like this, his warm breath fanning across your bottom lip when you pull away. “She just wants to wear tutus and sing Baby Shark right now,” you murmur, hand creeping up over his chest. His heart is beating fast as hell beneath his t-shirt, feels like it’ll burst straight out of his chest if you don’t calm him down. 

He’s the bigger worrier out of the two of you, has a classic case of paranoid parent syndrome. 

It’s no secret that Namjoon has a big brain; he’s an educated man with a respectable job. For every problem he encounters, he can procure a variety of solutions with different approaches. He’s always prepared and part of you thinks he’s a huge reason you managed to survive those first few weeks as a mom. Unlike you, who had attended a whopping two mommy classes in preparation for your upcoming child, Namjoon had studied up on parenting. A lot. He had read books and reviewed scientific studies, had learned about development on the chemistry level and the social level, did all he could until he was confident in his own dad abilities. 

But, for every solution Namjoon can find, there are always twenty-eight other factors to worry about. 

“What if she has an allergic reaction and Jimin doesn’t know what to do,” he pales, death grip on your hand. His matching wedding band digs into your skin and you have to wrestle his hand away before he accidentally breaks your finger. He nearly broke your neck once when you were in college, had almost sent you to the ER mid-thrust because he had underestimated his own strength while trying to choke you.

“Hyejoo doesn’t have any allergies,” you remind him, giving up on your awkward half-seated position as you clamber over him. His thighs are full beneath you, tense up as you move over him and he manhandles you into his chest. 

He’s not done. “What if she asks Jimin for a fizzy drink and he can’t understand her?” His eyes are owlish beneath his glasses, covered in what you can only describe as a visible sheen of absolute terror. “What if he thinks she’s saying ‘pissy’ not ‘fizzy,’ __— what then?” It’s amazing, really, how a man who graduated cum laude can hypothesize this many disasters pertaining to a four year-old’s sleepover. 

In the other room, Hyejoo calls for you, so you gladly take the opportunity to remove yourself from Namjoon and his spiraling thoughts. “Look,” you say, tightening the sash of your robe as you get back up. “I’m gonna go tell her that she can go to Yerin’s sleepover tomorrow,” you tell him, giving him exactly three seconds to groan dramatically, before continuing, “and you figure out how to turn that big brain off by the time I come back.” 

Luckily, the cause of Hyejoo’s sudden wake up is a tiny bug bite she got from playing outside that just won’t stop itching. “Mommy, it hurts,” she whines, digging her nails into the tiny red mark by her knee. 

“Uh huh, lemme see,” you order, turning on her bedside lamp to illuminate the space. Her room is the prettiest shade of yellow, fitting for a ball of sunshine such as herself. “Were you playing by the flowerbeds?” You ask, running a finger over the mark a little too weird looking to simply be another mosquito bite. 

She knows she’s not supposed to play near the flowers— the bugs like her a little too much. It’s with a hesitant little nod that she confesses to it. You give her a pointed look. “You’re not supposed to play too close to the flowers,” you remind her, a tiny scolding for now. 

With a sniffle she responds, “not by the plowers.” 

A little bit of anti-itch cream has her settling, and by the time you return to your bedroom, Namjoon is out cold. 

“How old is Yerin turning?” Namjoon asks her at the door, heartbreak clearly painting his features as you help Hyejoo into her shoes. 

“Pour,” she beams, her tiny hand held up to show four stubby fingers. She has Namjoon’s pretty smile, an honest look in her eyes that makes you want to put her in your pocket and never let her go. Alas, Yerin’s sleepover party starts at five and Hyejoo has been trying to leave since noon. 

“Pour,” Namjoon repeats, shooting you a pointed look as if to say see. He had fought the decision up until the end, had even tried to tactically convince your daughter to stay home by getting a head start on preparing her favorite food. And well. She said no. So now the two of you are stuck having dinosaur chicken nuggets for dinner without her. 

She’s got her little travel bag on now, tiny feet stuffed into her ladybug rain boots because it had rained last night and she’s awfully addicted to jumping in muddy puddles. She’s absolutely adorable, your little girl, and you think Namjoon might’ve let out a tiny sob earlier. (Or maybe it was you.)

Namjoon joins you at the front door. “Be good,” he warns her. His eyes are suspiciously wet, but you don’t say anything because yours are too. You’re both crouched in front of her, her big eyes glancing back and forth between the two of you without a care in the world. Mixing your self-assured personality with Namjoon’s (mostly) composed attitude was quite possibly the worst genetic crossover to ever happen; Hyejoo doesn’t even seem remotely bothered by the fact she’s spending her first night away from home. Meanwhile, you and Namjoon are on the verge of a joint breakdown. 

Anyway, Namjoon gives in first. “Love you forever, princess,” he tells her, their ritual expression, and kisses her forehead. 

She accepts it and then, in an unexpected turn of events, surges forward to hug him around the neck. “Love you pporever, daddy,” she repeats, and your heart feels so painfully full at the sight, like you just unlocked a new life achievement from seeing your daughter and her father be so cute together. You don’t get to coo at them for long, because then she’s giving you a warm hug as well, the same phrase muttered in your ear. 

It’s the hardest thing about parenting. 

Seeing your kid slowly broaden their horizons, meeting new people and learning new things. Leaving home. (Granted, she’ll be back by tomorrow afternoon but even that feels like an eternity away to the dramatic parents you and Namjoon have become.) The second goodbye on Jimin’s doorstep isn’t any easier, especially when Hyejoo tugs on your arm and asks you to “say night to daddy please” for her, and your heart breaks just a little more. Jimin flashes you an understanding smile but all you want to do is punch him in the nose for ever telling Yerin what a sleepover is. 

You get home and Namjoon is in a calmer state by now, some old sitcom he hates playing on the TV. Usually, this time of day is reserved for his daily phonemic lessons with Hyejoo, drilling the f sound into her tiny brain, so you guess this is his preferred method of coping in its place: torturing himself with some boring television show. 

“Hey,” he says, and you crawl into his lap with a sad sniffle. “Shh,” he soothes, hand on the back of your head as he guides you into his chest. You’re actually crying now, which is super embarrassing in itself considering you scolded Namjoon for this exact behavior last night. He doesn’t mention it as he pats your back, stupid sitcom paused in favor of soothing you with the deep vibrations of his voice. “Hye’s gonna be back tomorrow, baby.”

“I want her back now,” you huff, vaguely aware of how childish and silly you sound. The tables have turned, and you find yourself wishing you had the same emotional fortitude as Namjoon now. All those parenting books have clearly amounted for something. Somehow, you will the feeling back into your body and pull away from his chest. You must look a mess because he doesn’t even try to hide the amusement on his face. “This is the worst day of my life.” 

Namjoon laughs, deep and hearty, with his eyes squeezing shut from the force. “Come on, wifey, those chicken nuggets aren’t gonna eat themselves.”

It’s quite possibly the most boring evening you’ve had in years. 

(The internet calls it new parent syndrome, where you’re so undeniably in love with your first child and the parenting experience that the rest of the world is put on pause.)

You love Namjoon, honest. But you love your daughter Hyejoo even more— it’s not a controversial sentiment when you know he’s the same way! —and going back to a regular adult life sans kids absolutely sucks. (Or so you thought.)

Kids are prone to asking weirdly philosophical questions, a fact that had greatly delighted you when Hyejoo first started speaking. Who am I? What’s money? Why not? It could get annoying sometimes, trying to answer all of Hyejoo’s curiosities. But as you begin on your second batch of dinosaur chicken nuggets, all you can think about is how Jimin gets to answer them tonight. 

Anyway, seven rolls around and you and Namjoon are bored. You can only watch so many episodes of Seinfield before you get tired of feigning interest, so you retire from the living room for the night. “I’m gonna take a bath,” you tell him, but he’s as brain dead as you by now. 

A second later, “lemme join.” 

It’s been a while since the two of you have squeezed into the bathtub together, usually assigning each other days to individually join Hyejoo. So it’s really not either of your faults when you realize a second too late how small the space is. One on each end, feet bumping into each other with every movement, it’s like trying to squeeze two feet into one shoe. You try to readjust yourself, but the bath flooring is slippery and you nearly take away Namjoon’s procreative abilities with a mighty kick. 

To make a long story short, you end up pressed against his chest, Namjoon’s thick thighs framing you as you relax into the steaming water. Instinctively, he reaches for Hyejoo’s bottle of baby shampoo that sits on the tub’s ledge and only catches himself just as the first droplet is meeting his palm. “Oh, fuck,” he sighs, quickly closing the lid before he can waste any more precious product. “Shit, I’m so sad.”

You snort, sinking farther back into his chest. He’s warm and soft in all the right ways, the hot water making him slippery. “What did we even do before Hyejoo?” you ask, reaching into the deepest crevices of your mind for answers. Namjoon’s hand comes around, fingers sprawled out over your knee, the one you have propped up and breaking the water’s surface 

He makes a rather vague sound, something like I don’t know, as he lolls forward, forehead on your shoulder. “Go on dates,” he responds eventually. “Fuck like crazy.” 

You roll your eyes. “Besides that,” you chide, pinching the back of his palm. “Don’t we have any hobbies? Any interests?” He doesn’t answer, which is all the answer you need. Why didn’t you get into puzzle solving back when it was a trend? “Is this what our life has become? Crying in a bathtub at seven pm because our emotional support child isn’t here?”

“Our only child,” he corrects. Namjoon tries to placate your looming existential crisis with a kiss to your shoulder, lips against wet skin, that he trails up to your neck. “And what’s wrong with going on dates and fucking?” he murmurs, hands around your stomach. “That’s how we got here,” he teases, and you’re not sure if it’s the warm water or the way his voice is like melted chocolate dripping down your body, but you become all too aware of his presence at that moment. Particularly, of the plush lips mindlessly kissing your shoulder, the wet smack of their motions. 

Another kiss, this time right below your ear. It has your head rolling to the side, exposing more skin for him to kiss up on. There’s still that overwhelming cloud of worry in the back of your mind, but it’s gradually nudged away by Namjoon’s warm hands on your skin. Sensing your weakening resolve, Namjoon strikes again. A hand slips down over your stomach, brushes over your belly button and finds itself between your thighs. “You used to love date nights, baby,” he says, the pad of his pointer finger grazing your clit. 

It’s been so long since you and Namjoon have been alone like this, months since you’ve been able to touch him beyond a simple make out session, a halfhearted grope beneath the sheets. Your daughter, as much as you loved her, made intimacy impossible for the two of you. She was always around, always looking for one or the both of you, so there was never time to even think about getting frisky. 

Only now, with his finger circling your clit, do you realize the blessing in disguise that was your daughter’s first slumber party away from home. 

His finger nudges your clit, flicks it teasingly. “Why don’t you let me take care of you, hm?” he hums, the hand that had been soothingly stroking the inside of your thigh coming up to rub at your breasts. 

“Yes, please,” you whine. Resting your head on his shoulder leaves Namjoon with a clear view down your front, lips kissing and sucking along your neck. His huge hand palms your breast, massaging the sensitive skin. You hadn’t realized how sore you’d been until now, his nimble fingers pressing deliciously into the skin. If your nipples weren’t already hard before, they certainly were now. 

He traps one pearled nipple between two fingers, the sudden pinch making you hiss. “Easy, now,” he chuckles, his low tenor paired with his wandering hands making your eyes roll back. 

Namjoon liked to use a higher tone around the house. He read somewhere that children prefer lighter, sweeter tones, so the last few years have been spent listening to him lighten the tone of his voice for the sake of your daughter. The deeper, growlier voice that had first made you fall in love with him became a rarity in your household, reserved for quiet nights in the living room or long drives where Hyejoo was asleep in the backseat. Only then does he unleash the gravelly qualities of his voice. 

Then, and apparently, now. 

His doll-like lips press against your jaw, suck lightly enough to make your body tingle. “Do you remember how it was the first time?” he says suddenly, his hot breath against your neck. 

Namjoon’s got your clit trapped between two wandering fingers, has your pussy twitching with the vibrations of his voice alone. And for some reason, he’s trying to reminisce about your first time sleeping together. 

“N- Not really,” you confess, subtly reaching down. You cover his palm with yours, hoping your touch will encourage him to carry on with his actions. It doesn’t. It just leaves both your hands hovering over your pussy, your thighs instinctively closing in on them to keep him there. Namjoon responds to that, releasing the breast he had been gently massaging in order to pry your legs apart. He does it so easily, despite the way your legs feel tight as hell, and the fact makes you whimper. 

Once he’s got his hands back between your thighs— this time, he uses one hand to carefully part your quivering lips, the other one gingerly pressing down against your clit to draw the most heavenly sensations out of you —Namjoon feels the need to dive into a recap of your first fuck. “You were so cute,” he laughs, and you don’t know if you should take offense. Well, considering you're married and have a kid now, it’s probably too late to say anything anyway. His hand suddenly switches gears, three fingers joining together to begin caressing them over your throbbing clit. “Kept talking to me so politely, even when you were creaming my cock.”

You scoff, but it gets cancelled out by the moan he draws out of you. “D- Didn’t know you that well,” you remind him, your thighs twitching. You desperately want to buck forward into his giving hands, want to feel the true power of those long, pretty fingers on your cunt. 

Behind you, Namjoon’s cock grows thick, his breathing a slow and steady pace by your ear. You can already imagine how heavy he is, the vein that runs along the underside and throbs with each new bit of stimulus he receives. Normally you would reach back and try to offer him the same helping hand he gives you, but your thighs feel wobbly already. Your libido has been dormant for so long that even just the barest flick of his thumb has you dissolving into his arms like this is your first time. 

It’s as if Namjoon’s sensing your inner battle, a muffled laugh against the side of your neck. “This is about you,” he reminds you. As much as you want to protest, a sudden hard rub against your quivering lips has you gasping for breath. “Give me a kiss,” he commands softly, nudging his nose against the side of your face. It takes a second for you to ground yourself, draw yourself away from your building pleasure, to turn toward his waiting lips. 

Namjoon kisses you slowly, like he’s taking his time with you. For the first time in a long time, he truly can. He doesn’t have to worry about a certain someone waking up in the middle of the night or walking in or anything along those lines, lips molding against yours. Plush as always, the faint taste of dinosaur chicken nuggets clinging to his lips. It makes you laugh a little, drawing away with an airy giggle. Namjoon smiles at your reaction, murmuring a soft, “what is it?”

You shake your head, eyes fluttering shut as he continues his circular motions against your clit. “Nothing,” you pant, finally getting in your first thrust against his fingers. “I just really need you,” you say instead, pushing his hand harder down against you. 

You’re feeling a little antsy, having been deprived of this sensation for so long. Namjoon knows this, which is why he very purposely slows down. “There’s no rush,” he smirks, placing a kiss against your chin. “How do you want it, baby?”

The inside of your brain is a scrambled mess, filled with fantasies and ideas that have been plaguing you for months. There’s so much you want to do, want to try, but it’s like your brain completely blanks out when he asks. It’s just as you’re beginning to formulate a thought that you’re interrupted by the sound of your ringtone in the other room. Your husband’s arms tighten around you. “Don’t go,” he says quietly, the tip of his nose running along your neck. It’s so tempting to stay here, to let yourself go in his arms and chase the pleasure you’ve been craving for so long. 

But the endless possibilities of who exactly could be calling wins over. Was it work? Was it your parents? Jimin?

It is with a heavy sigh that you reach for Namjoon’s hand, slowly pushing him away from your cunt. “I’m sorry, honey,” you frown, standing up out of the tub. Your legs really do feel like jelly, and you nearly slip and crack your skull on the porcelain edge. Luckily, Namjoon is there to steady you with two secure hands on your waist. “I’ll make it quick,” you reassure him, dropping a kiss on his pouty lips as you fasten a towel around your body. 

The phone is just starting up its final ring when you reach it. It’s Jimin, and you’re torn between being thankful that you’re getting word on Hyejoo and full blown panic from the fact Jimin is calling you while Hyejoo is in his care. The unease has you accepting the call without a second more to waste. “Hello?” you say, hand tightening on the front of your towel. Stray water droplets trace ticklish trails down the backs of your thighs.

“__?” comes Jimin’s sweet voice. It’s normally soothing, but right now it has every hair on your body standing on end. Before you can even respond, Jimin is jumping headfirst into a whirlwind of a conversation. “Sorry for calling so late, but I just wanted to check in on you, babe. I know you were really panicked about Hye’s first night away from home, but don’t worry! Me and the missus are doing everything we can to make sure she’s fine.”

His confidence reassures you, lessens the weight that had been sitting on your chest all afternoon. But at the same time, you find yourself wanting to throttle him. 

Your gorgeous, sexy hunk of a husband is sitting in the other room, cock at full mast and ready to pleasure you to the moon and back, and here you are listening to Jimin brag about how good of a caretaker he is. You were definitely going to make Jimin pay for this. 

Deep breaths, you tell yourself, toying with a stray thread on your towel. “Really,” you drawl, and you can practically see Jimin’s ego swell over the line. 

“Yup,” Jimin agrees, and by the sounds of it, doesn’t seem like he’s hoping to end this call anytime soon. You want to shoulder part of the blame; you had been extra sad and mopey when you dropped your daughter off. On top of being a good dad, Jimin was also a good friend. It was only naturally he wanted to reassure you when he could. 

Still, the memory of Namjoon’s wet chest was calling out to you. 

“The girls are playing princess in the living room with the missus right now,” Jimin chats on. “New dresses and everything— the Yerin Birthday Special —and they asked me to be their handsome prince!” You sincerely cannot wait for the day you get to introduce Jimin to your right fist. 

“That’s great,” you offer, not that he’s really listening. He’s too busy talking about Yerin (and making sure to include Hyejoo in for your sake) and how amazing it is to watch your kids grow up before your very eyes. And while you agree with the sentiment, you really wish he had called you and told you this earlier, when you were at the peak of your motherly meltdown. Not now with Namjoon waiting for you in the bathtub. Was the water even warm anymore? 

The mind blowing orgasm practically slips from your fingertips the longer Jimin talks. “Anyway! Enough about them. I’m thinking of trying out that blueberry bread recipe that aired on TV last night. You know, the one they had that actress make.”

You’ve just about resigned yourself to listening to Jimin talk about his love for pastries for the next thirty minutes when something brushes up behind you. “What the fu—“

He’s so tall and broad, practically covers your entire frame when he stands so close. And his smile is so pretty when he aims it your way. “Sh,” Namjoon murmurs, gesturing towards your phone.  

“__?” Jimin calls. “Everything alright?” 

Namjoon nods eagerly, the hands on your waist properly positioning you in front of him. It’s with a shudder running down your spine that you respond. “I’m fine,” you tell Jimin, letting go of the front of your towel when Namjoon abruptly pushes you over. The white comforter infused with both of your scents comes all too close, your elbow barely managing to reach out in time to catch you.  

Wide eyed, you turn to throw Namjoon a scandalized look over your shoulder. He meets you with a close-mouthed smile, the dimples in his cheeks making themselves known. His chest is drier now, the smooth planes covered in a thin dewy glow and a spattering of droplets he missed. There’s a towel around his waist that’s barely doing its job, especially when you catch sight of the erection tenting beneath it. 

“As I was saying,” Jimin rambles on. Namjoon nods towards the device, refusing to move again until you finally turn back around to finish your conversation with Jimin. “That actress fucked it up so bad. They really give anyone with a pretty face screen time these days, huh? At least I know how to properly preheat an oven.”

You nod. “You do make the best cookies in town,” you respond, a ball of anticipation building in your throat from the mere fact Namjoon is standing behind you. 

It’s completely warranted once you feel two cold fingers trail up the back of your thigh, your towel gradually pushed up to drape around your waist. The air in your room is a little chilly, and the goosebumps that raise on your skin are partly due to that, as well as the ghostlike touch of Namjoon’s fingers. “Pretty,” he murmurs, so deep and gravelly it has you shuddering.  

Two fingers dance along your skin, and you subconsciously jolt away when they meet the tender skin around your pussy. By your ear, Jimin says, “if I completely fuck it up, we’ll just pretend this conversation never happened. Deal?”

Using your own body against you, Namjoon lets one finger dip just the smallest bit into your quivering hole. You clench up, thighs trembling when he eventually pulls it back out and traces your own wetness over your folds. “Perfect,” you bite out, clutching at the sheets beneath you as Namjoon reaches for your forgotten clit. It’s still so sensitive from your little fun in the bath, and it takes every ounce of strength in you to hold back the whiny gasp in your throat. 

Behind you, Namjoon suddenly presses in close. One hand on your hip, he gently encourages you onto the bed. Your knees sink into the mattress, one less strain on your legs. “Good girl,” he praises quietly, rewarding your behavior with a finger sinking into your cunt. 

“Joo—“ you almost slip, burying your face into the sheets just in time. 

A devastatingly slow pace, his finger just barely moving in and out of you. The bulk of your pleasure is coming from that bundle of nerves towards your front, but the teasing gesture isn’t appreciated anyway. When he leans over you, breath against your neck, you feel the length of his cock against your thigh. “He’s asking you a question,” Namjoon whispers, “answer him, baby.”

You nod, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he presses himself closer. Jimin hasn’t even noticed your lack of participation, mindlessly humming a song. The sounds of a running sink highlight his vocals. “Oh, absolutely,” you babble. “I wouldn’t tell a soul.” 

“Ha!” Jimin scoffs. “I knew I could always count on you, Miss __,” he snarks playfully. 

The hand toying with your clit comes around your waist, fingers stroking against your folds from this new angle. A silent moan has you writhing forward, unconsciously away from him as Jimin babbles on the other end of the line. He’s none the wiser to the lewd acts happening on the line, listening to the sound of his own voice. Namjoon lands a mean little bite against your shoulder, plunging his finger deeper inside of your clenching hole. 

Paired with his teasing fingers, it’s nearly impossible to withhold your moans, biting your lip until it stings. “Fuck, fuck,” you whimper against the sheets, holding your phone as far away as possible from your mouth as a litany of curse words spill from your lips. Namjoon chuckles at your dramatics, not like he has his fingers deep inside of you right now or anything. 

“So cute,” he hums, removing his hand from your clit to snatch your towel away. It gives way too easily, messily thrown over the edge of the bed. With your back completely exposed now, Namjoon wastes no time trailing a line of kisses up your spine, finishing off with an especially wet and hard one behind your ear. “Hang up now.”

His permission sets your body on edge, drawing your phone close again. Jimin is talking about dinner or something, you don’t even know. Not an ounce of remorse fills you when you clear your throat and hurriedly announce, “I have to—“ Namjoon’s cock, finally uncovered by his towel, presses against your folds and you nearly lose it. “—I have to go now, Jimin,” you say, leveling your breathing as best as you can. 

“Wait, what the fuck?” Jimin says, thrown off by your sudden departure. 

The mushroom tip of his cock kisses your clit. “Fuck— I really have to go.” And you hang up, chucking the phone off to the side hastily. With your hands both freed, you scramble onto your back, meeting the amused gaze of your husband behind you. “Fuck me, now.”

Namjoon laughs, reaching for the towel barely clinging onto his waist. One suave swoop later and it joins yours on the floor. “You did good,” he praises, lowering himself between your spread thighs. You roll your eyes, grabby hands reaching for his hips until he’s sitting snugly against you, cock resting over your throbbing cunt. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you snap, the tight feeling in your tummy growing with every second that passes. Namjoon isn’t as unaffected as he pretends to be, a pearly bead of cum appearing at the tip of his engorged cock. “Just fuck me now.”

He raises a brow. “Missionary?” As if it’s the first time. 

“Is there something wrong with it?” you ask anyway, self-consciously reaching an arm over yourself to cover your naked breasts. They’ve pebbled over just from his stare alone. 

Namjoon hesitates, the hand on your hip drawing slow circles with his thumb. Eventually, he responds with a halfhearted shrug. “It’s not the best.” This is news to you, and you find yourself sitting up at the sudden bomb he’s dropped. 

He’s still hard as rock between you, his dick laying almost artfully against your slit. You really just want to throw aside all reservations and begin grinding against him, penetration be damned, but now Namjoon’s got that thoughtful quirk to his lips. The one that usually accompanies any big brained idea, so you settle down, nudging him with your thigh until he’s looking at you again. “Penny for your thoughts?” What you really want to say is please fuck me like I’m just another cum rag of yours and make it hurt, but alas. 

Namjoon sits back on his haunches. “I read somewhere that on your hands and knees is the best way to get pregnant.” You choke on your own tongue, face ablaze from his forward statement. Meanwhile, Namjoon is looking as relaxed as ever. 

You hadn’t really discussed children after Hyejoo. The wordless agreement had been that sure, you were both down for another kid sometime in the future. But the exact date had sort of been murky. Hyejoo is three now, and you heard from another mom that it’s difficult for children with wide age gaps to get along. You don’t want her growing up being far removed from another sibling. 

But also, now?

It’s like Namjoon knows your thoughts before you even do. “Alright, wifey, say no more,” he says, leaning down to place a kiss against your lips. “I’ll get the condom, alright?”

And then he’s stepping off the bed, every muscle of his toned body flexing as he swaggers over towards the dresser. He’s a walking dream, the physical embodiment of all your crazy sex fantasies, and he wants to fuck a baby into you. Your pussy says yes, but your rationality is still on the fence. 

You roll onto your side, head propped into your open palm. “You want another baby?” you ask tentatively. Namjoon shrugs, carefully opening the new box of condoms you had bought half a year ago. 

“It wouldn’t hurt to have another kid,” he answers, procuring a tiny foil packet from the box and returning to his spot between your legs. It’s like staring at a marble statue from this angle, the defined planes of his chest and abdomen, the gorgeous slope of his nose, the sharp angles of his face. You really lucked out. 

Your decision comes just as he’s easing the rubber over the tip of his cock, the swollen head just barely enveloped. You place a hand against his wrist, earning his attention. “Take it off,” you mumble, and you swear on your entire life he swells another inch. 

“Oh, baby,” he groans, hastily throwing the condom somewhere across the room. He rolls over you, bulging arms sweeping you up into his embrace, lips capturing yours in a sloppy kiss. You whimper, letting his tongue push itself past your lips. When he pulls away, it’s with a wet pop and glistening lips. They’re so puffy now, flushed a nice rosy color, that makes him look even more handsome when he smiles down at you. “Gonna look so pretty all pregnant,” he beams, placing a chaste kiss against you one last time before he’s hurriedly rolling you onto your stomach. 

You hide your bashful expression against the sheets, suddenly feeling very shy before him. But then Namjoon’s cock is running along your lips and you’re left a shivering mess. “Please just fuck me,” you beg hoarsely, and Namjoon obeys. 

“Whatever you want, wifey,” he teases, and before you can call him out for his cheesiness, he’s pressing his thumb into your aching hole once more. “Is this okay?” he asks, somberly for the first time in what seems like forever. 

“I’m okay,” you confess, a little shyly now that you know his true motives.  

Namjoon chuckles, quickly removing his finger from inside of you to give your ass one soothing pat. “Going in,” he warns you, and finally, you’re rewarded for all your struggles. It’s only as his mushroom head squeezes in that you realize you could have done with a bit more stretching, but that thought fades away the more and more he pushes in. “Fuck,” he groans, the low intonation of his voice making your toes curl.

If it’s not his voice, it’s the sheer length of his cock inside of you. The girth makes your spine tingle, has you muffling a pitiful whimper into the comforter beneath you. “Relax for me,” he directs, and then suddenly he’s placing a palm against your back, pushing you further down. “Hips up.” 

You groan. The normally soft fabric of the blanket feels like hell on your sensitive breasts. “I’m trying,” you whine, pushing back onto him in an effort to familiarize yourself with his cock again. It’s been so long since he’s been inside of you like this, since he’s filled you so well, that your body acts a little stupid now. He hasn’t even begun thrusting and you already feel like you’ll cum just from this.  

The angle is different than your usual style, has him moving along every inch of you as he sinks in. Two big hands grab at your waist, manhandling you closer to him until you’re just like he wants you to be. “There we go,” he sighs, and with him motionless, you finally relax. It’s about a two second pause before he begins to draw himself back out. “How do you want it?” he grunts, but it’s lost beneath the moan that escapes you. It’s the same question he asked you in the tub, right before Jimin called, except this time you have an answer. 

“Fast,” you gasp, the pain from the stretch finally, finally, melting away as your body grows accustomed to his presence inside of you. “Do it fast, please.”

Namjoon does as he’s told, waiting until he’s pulled out until the tip to satisfy your requests. And then he’s off. 

Your body isn’t as young as it once was, left a little worn from the entire child-bearing process. Sometimes you wonder how exactly you and Namjoon would fuck until sunrise before, how your sex drive was so high that it allowed such a thing to happen. Admittedly, there’s currently a stiffness inside of you that has been there for a while now, and you barely remember how you got rid of it before. Apparently, this is how.

Namjoon’s hard cock rams into you once, makes you release the most embarrassingly loud moan at the sudden intrusion, and it’s like all those months of tension that built up in your body are melted away. His cock pushes past your folds, creating a lewd squelching sound that would otherwise leave you mortified to learn it came from your body. You shudder, desperately pushing your ass back against him in a feeble attempt to feel it again. 

“Still so fucking tight for me,” he growls, snapping his hips forwards. His skin slaps against yours, leaves you feeling tender from the brutal movements of his body. But at the same time, it feels absolutely terrific. 

Your lips are still coated in your own wetness, have him noisily moving in and out. “J- Joon,” you whimper softly, but you doubt he hears it over the sound of his own labored breathing. “More.”

He responds with a sudden piston inside of you that has the tip of his cock nearly kissing your cervix. “More?” he huffs, the hand on your back pressing down until you fear you’ll become one with the mattress. “You want more?” You nod hurriedly, somehow managing to stretch a hand down between you to toy with your clit. The brush of your own fingers has you bucking back onto him in surprise.

Wordlessly, he speeds up his pace, thrusting his hips into your velvety walls at a faster speed than before. It’s a weird sensation, a sort of ticklish feeling m that makes you tremble with each roll forward. You can’t say the two of you have done it in this position a lot, always preferring the more romantic missionary position to anything else, but this experience was quickly making you an avid believer of its validity as a top tier sex position. 

You swirl your pointer finger around your clit, trying to sync up your shaky touch with his steady thrusts. It’s useless, because every time you feel like you’ve gotten into the same groove, Namjoon one ups you by hauling you back against him. “Oh, f- fuck,” you sob, clawing at the sheets beneath you. 

Namjoon groans, momentarily pausing his rapid thrusts to roll his buried cock against you. “Come on, baby,” he husks, the hilt of his cock kissing your folds. 

There’s a lot of built up sexual tension inside of you, months on top of months of nothingness. Not to mention that little scene in the bathtub just now. So you’re not really surprised that your orgasm rears its head so early, curling up tightly in your stomach the longer Namjoon fucks you. He’s back to thrusting now, shallow little movements that make you see stars every time his cock glides inside of you. “Joon, I'm gonna...” you rasp out pitifully, grinding back against him. 

“Whenever you want,” he murmurs, leaning forward to press a kiss against your shoulder. It’s sweet, but on top of that, it has him pushing in further than before, finally pressed against that sensitive spot inside of you that makes your entire body lock up. You sob, thighs quivering when he reaches an arm around you. It’s almost romantic how your hands meet, his fingers covering yours as he guides them over your clit slowly. “Give it to me, baby,” he croons, lips pressed securely against your neck. He leaves soft kisses there, smooches really, that make you melt. 

Another shallow buck of his hips forward and you’re cumming, breaths picking up until they accumulate into a choked wail against the sheets. “Fuck— oh, fuck,” you cry, your thighs spasming from the force of your first satisfying orgasm in months. Namjoon holds you through it, slowly thrusting inside of you until he’s drawn out your entire orgasm.

The new added pleasure makes his movements sound even wetter, dirtier even. “That’s it,” he purrs, pushing himself back up to his full height behind you. You feel absolutely boneless beneath him, laying limply against the mattress as Namjoon repositions your hips for himself. “Can I finish like this, sweetheart?” he asks anyway, thumbs drawing a soothing pattern along your hip. 

You can barely catch your breath, so you settle on a halfhearted nod that has him huffing out a laugh. 

For some reason, Namjoon fucks you harder once he knows you’ve had your fill. Like he’s trying to draw another orgasm out of you, but is also the least bit concerned with you. Honestly, it works. He moves fast and hard, like he has no regard for your pleasure, and for some reason that turns you on more than it should. It’s this weird fantasy of yours, to be mistreated by a man as respectful as Namjoon, and you find yourself weirdly fulfilling it now as he fucks his cock into you. 

His fingers dig into your skin, wildly bucking into you as he chases his own high, and it’s embarrassing how quickly a second one builds up for you. You moan at one particular thrust, body sensitive all over. “Oh,” you whimper, “Namjoon.”

He grunts, your cries fueling him on as he continues his mad race to the end. “Gonna cum with me again?” he pants, his quick pace rocking you forward. You nod, using your killer grip on the sheets to ground yourself as you weakly attempt to meet his thrusts. “Aren’t you the sweetest,” he hums, and doesn’t let you respond as he continues to jackhammer his way into your pussy at a bruising pace. 

It takes a few more thrusts, and one whiny cry of his name— “come on, Joonie,” you whimper, turning to throw him a teary-eyed gaze over your shoulder; he shudders at the sight —until Namjoon is finally tipped over the edge, shooting his pleasure deep into you on the next thrust. It’s warm, paints your walls and threatens to spill out when he finally pulls out. 

But Namjoon has read up, using those big strong arms of his to keep you from collapsing onto your tummy as he scrambles around for something to keep your hips up. “It sticks better this way,” he says, a sheen of sweat against his temples when he flops down beside you. 

“What sticks better,” you groan, the achy feeling of just having your world rocked quickly settling into your bones. 

Namjoon leans forward and places a kiss against your lips, as if saying here, for all your hard work. “You know... it,” he shrugs, hands behind his head as he prepares himself to supervise your post-sex nap, just to make sure you don’t accidentally move around and let his cum leak out. “You did good, wifey,” he praises with another smooch. “Maybe we should let Hyejoo sleep over at Jimin’s more.”

Hyejoo’s return is the highlight of the year. 

You pick her up around noon, and your heart nearly grows ten sizes when you see her come running down Jimin’s front steps and into your arms. “Hi, mommy,” she beams, the same smile as Namjoon. And just like Namjoon, you can’t stop yourself from covering her face in tiny kisses. She says they tickle and squirms and squeals in your embrace. 

Jimin’s at the door with this weirdly blank look on his face. “Hey, Jimin,” you call out, helping Hyejoo load her bag into the backseat.

“Hey…” he greets, just as Hyejoo frantically begins calling for you to buckle her in. “Um, __,” Jimin says, but you’re a little busy securing the tiny love of your life into her booster seat, so you just throw him a quick glance to let him know you’re listening. Kinda. “There’s something I have to tell you—“

“I wanna see daddy!” Hyejoo babbles from the backseat, wildly waving her hands around as you finally close the door on her. With it shut, her loud voice is drowned out and you’re left raising a brow at Jimin as you round the front of the car. 

“What’s up?” you ask. 

Jimin comes down the steps, awkwardly hovering by the front of your car. “Um, when we were on the phone—“ Hyejoo knocks her tiny hands against the window, gesturing for you to hurry up. You flash Jimin an apologetic frown at the interruption. “Well, you see. She kinda heard us— well, me—” 

Another flurry of knocks, and you can’t wait to relay to Namjoon how excited your daughter had been to see him again. It’ll boost his ego, not that he really needs it to be any bigger. “That’s fine,” you tell Jimin, swinging your door open. Immediately, Hyejoo’s high-pitched voice fills the space between you and Jimin. “You know I don’t mind talking to the missus,” you joke, nudging his side. “She’s my friend too, ya know.”

“Gotta show daddy something!” Hyejoo shouts from the backseat, has this big smile on her face that makes you smile as well. 

Beside you, Jimin is quickly falling apart. “No, well—” you drop down into your seat “it wasn’t her who heard—“ You shut the door, lowering the window to thank Jimin one more time. Hyejoo beats you to it.

“Bye, Mr. Jimin!” she says, tiny legs kicking around all wildly in her excitement. You shake your head with a grin, waving goodbye to Jimin one last time as you pull out of his driveway. 

“Daddy!” Hyejoo shrieks upon entering your home. Her tiny overnight bag is tossed down at the entryway, ladybug rain boots haphazardly kicked towards the general direction of the shoe closet. Namjoon had been upstairs in his study when you left, but he now comes bounding down the steps at the sound of your daughter’s voice. He cries out a dopey, “princess”, as he scoops her up in his big arms. He does a twirl and everything, so dramatic. But it makes Hyejoo giggle like crazy. 

She allows one big fat kiss against her chubby cheeks before she’s shushing him with the news of her announcement. “Daddy, look,” she beams, holding his face between her tiny hands. “I can say the f sound now!”

Namjoon has been avidly working towards this ability for months now. Namjoon, who has spent nights reading every page of every child development book possible, who has spent hours decorating pretty flashcards for her, who has sectioned off time from his busy schedule everyday just to go over lessons with her. Well, Namjoon looks over the goddamn moon at the news. 

“Let’s hear it, honey,” you urge, stepping in when his happiness renders him incapable of speech. So he just nods along, looks like a bobblehead doll beside you. 

And with both of her proud, sometimes overprotective, parents standing before her, Hyejoo puts on a big grin and says, “fuck.”

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[identityvore]

Could we see some of the other photographers now? You got me hooked.

Bloody Sword: 

-He is probably one of the haughtiest, meanest vampire preds around.

-Being a spoiled noble, he often prefers having his prey tied up, prepped, and brought to him on a platter.

-However, sometimes he will have his prey set loose in his territory to hunt down. The fear and adrenaline gives a pleasant extra kick.

-It’s not uncommon for Joseph to drink his prey’s blood before eating them.

-He’s not quite at the top of the food chain. Count’s Banquet has had to swallow the little brat a few times in order to reestablish dominance.

Moonlight Gentleman:

-This wolfman is a very playful pred. There’s not much that excites him quite as much as a good hunt.

-Moonlight Gentleman will spend an extensive time licking and biting his prey to get them riled up.

-Might call you his “Red Riding Hood” just to tease.

-Joseph is fond of larger prey. It’s fun to squish down on his belly as it churns and gradually shrinks.

-That doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy small prey. They’re arguably even more fun for a game of cat and mouse.

Azrael:

-A surprisingly gentle pred for a being as powerful as him, Azrael often appears to people in their dreams.

-His stomach has a starry, cosmic pattern. It’s pleasantly soft and wet, perfect for falling asleep in.

-His hands are quite gentle as he kneads and rubs his belly, lips and tongue plush as he kisses your forehead and tastes you.

-Azrael’s stomach feels much like a blanket…one that can easily melt you and send you funneling through his intestines if he desires.

-Digestion is painless, even feels pleasant to some, and always ends with the dreamer waking up with full memory of the experience. Although, a number of people have ended up staying conscious throughout the experience.

[theanonymouswriterb]

Dusk til’ Dawn

Prologue: The Queen saved the King

Paring: Kim Taehyung x Reader

Mafia Au Series

Warning: SMUT, literally porn on paper 😗, lots of fluff, violence, gang, bratty!reader, dom!tae, daddy!tae, daddy kink, babygirl kink, punishment, bigdick!tae, rough sex, make up sex, lots of after care, pregnancy kink, oral!sex, deep throating and everything in between🤧

Warning in this chapter: just blood, wounds and guns, well a gun

Word Count: 5.1k

Summary:

Kim Taehyung, Now a feared and well known crimes boss but not was he always the man that he is today, searching for the women that saved him on the day that changed his life forever. Willing to sacrifice everything to find the women that could tame him.

One day after 5 years she shows up in his night club, will he be able to hold himself back from taking her and claiming her as his queen or will he do what he do everything in his power to make her his?

A/N: Hi, this is the first chapter that I’m releasing and it’s basically the prologue of how they met, hope you guys like it, if you want to be tagged please tell me and don’t forget to leave some feedback. Also I might be releasing chapter 1 tonight or early tmr, I just need to read though it for mistakes. Much love 💕😗 -B

~

Next chapter

Five Years Ago

The sound of police sirens roams the city, as darkness and fog rain down on Seoul city. Helicopters roaring the skies and the bad guy trying to hide. Kim Taehyung, A man being tracked down by polices and rival gangs from a exchange gone wrong, blood spewing from his stomach and bruises on his face as he runs through the alley. The only thing in his mind right now is to survive the night and make it make it back home alive, or at least die trying.

He keeps running and running for his life as he hears footsteps behind him like the devil is chasing me to take away his life and drag him to hell but he isn’t ready to die yet! Not just yet. He still has a lot more things to accomplish and until he does that not even the devil himself can drag him to hell.

The cut in his stomach is deep and the pain his unbearable but he has to keep it up and there’s no stopping cause if he’s stops he’ll get caught like a mouse in a trap. But he is no mouse, no fucking mouse at all. He’s a fucking mighty lion, no a fucking Dragon that’s roaring and will get his revenge on the people that played him, the ones he thought were family and sold him out. He will kill who ever gets in his way but he’ll just have to survive the deadly night as it calls out to him .

The pain keeps worsening and worsening but he doesn’t know what to do but clutch onto the stomach and hope for the best. A dragon doesn’t die easily, it’s gonna take more than a pack of Hyenas to take down this mighty Dragon.

But the Dragon wasn’t always like this, he had a family, that until he was left in front of an adoption center with no note no fucking idea of where he came from or who his parent were, he spent all his life trying to find out what happened that night that someone decided to leave him, was he not worth the love that a baby deserved? Was he that worthless that his parents gave him up for adoption? Was he not enough. These sentences rang through his mad all his life up til now, the day he’s praying to what every god is listening to him to not let him die, he will keep fight on and on until he’s on top of the food chain.

Kim Taehyung grew up to do bad things, very bad bad things, join gangs at a very young age, was made into the leaders puppet and rose up slowly to be the right hand man of the Cobra gang.

The cobra gang was well known gang of youths in their 20s doing wilds shits like shootouts with the police and drug dealing and selling girls, the reason Kim Taehyung joined the gang at such a young age was to survive, he didn’t like the idea of selling people, doing drugs or anything as such but he had to survive, in a world full of

Cobras and Hyenas he had to survive. He mad a living out of this and he rose to be the right hand man of the Cobras but oh man, that didn’t didn’t go down well.

Did it!?

The thing that burns him was that he was never a Cobra, never was and never will be.

A few miles away at Seoul estate town houses ~

Walking into her house Y/N sighed, “can this day get any worse” she flopped down in the sofa and looked at her phone, hoping for a call from a certain someone, but what was she hoping for?

She got up from the sofa and strutted up to her master bedroom. From the ceiling hung a huge diamond chandelier, to the side floor to ceiling widows, fine famous artwork hung on the walls and in the middle room, her queen sized bed made for the queen herself. Her room was every girls dream, a large space with with many expensive things, a humongous walk in wardrobe filled with designer clothings, shoes, purses and more. Y/N could get anything she wanted, whether it’s cars, houses, clothes, she could get anything she wanted, but she was no brat. Well maybe sometimes.

Walking into the closet, she took her suit attire off, she was promoted to the creative designer of Givenchy and got everything she wanted on her way up the ladder but the pressure on her shoulders were too real. She looked at the mirror in mirror in front of her and saw her figure, she was a beautiful girl no doubt about that, she was fine as hell, the only thing that could fault her was her mind, the mind that thinks she could be a failure to her family.

After changing into a white tank top and joggers she walked back out into her bedroom and down towards the living room that Intertwined with the kitchen.

Y/n turned the kettle as she walked from the kitchen to the living room, she sat down on her sofa and smiled as she turned in the tv “ finally, I get to sit the fuck down” she groaned. As she scrolls through Netflix a call comes through a phone. She looked at her phone screen and smiled at the name of no one else but her best friend E, short for EziKia, a girl she has known since she was a baby, their fathers grew up together and were very close with each other and that’s how they greet up to know each other. “Hey bitch” her best friend spoke “ how was work?!” She continued. As Y\N looked at the TV she replied “girl it was a disaster, you know how I get when I have to present my work”. “I know” her best friend laughed “But I’m sure you did fine and I’m sure they loved every bit of your design for the new collection” her best friend smirked as she spoke, “I’m already proud of you, I’m fucking excited for the new collection to drop”

Y/n’s a young girl, she always grew up with her parents love and affection but couldn’t find her place in the world, alright she had everything she wanted from her parents, finding love within her self was hard. Yes she has confidence, yes she’s amazingly breathtaking and beautiful, she doesn’t need anyone to tell her then cause she knows that and she knows she bad and she can get everything she wants in this world. She knows she worth all that. But why is it so hard for her to find love, not with any man but within herself, it is almost as if she hides behind this facade of confidence. Her insecurity’s ushers to come out of her but she builds this facade to hide it front he world. And the one thing she is most scared of is losing her family if she doesn’t make them proud. She feels as if it’s hard to love herself and make everyone else proud of her.

Y/N groaned as we moved on the sofa and said “I hope so, enough about me and my day, how was yours?” Ester sighed “ my day was amazing until I got home and got into an argument with my Khai” Y/N rolled her eyes and asked “what was the argument about this time?!” “ He dreamt that I cheated on him and he got mad at me!” Y/N couldn’t hold I get laughter and laughed out loud “ what the hell, now that is too funny”

“ well now he’s still mad at me for no reason and I won’t be the first person to apologize cause it wasn’t me fault to begin with”. EziKia replied

“Well it was your fault” Y/N began “ you cheated on him” “In his dream”they both said at the same time.

Ezikia and her boyfriend Khai have been dating for a while now and they’re hopelessly in love but they argue about the summery things in the world, which is why Y/N think they’re a perfect match cause they’re literally dumb and dumber.

The kettle hissed and Y/N spoke “ what’re you up to now anyways” as she Stirred her tea waiting for ester to reply. “ nothing if I’m honestly just playing games at the moment” she laughed out,”what about you”. “ just made some tea and about to watch haunted on Netflix” Y/N replied and she sat down on the sofa and pressed play.

A moment of silence filled the room.

“Have you spoken to J yet?” The voice of her friend E rang through the phone

“Who?” she replied

Sighing out in frustration her friend spoke “ You know who Y/N, you can’t stay mad it him forever he’s also your friend”

“I’m not mad at him E” she hushed out looking at her phone.

J short for Jungkook was Y/N other friend, they were very close, they loved each other but they both didn’t have the guts to tell each other that, it could fuck up the friendship but it was only friendship right?, they would always fight and instantly make up but this was different, they weren’t speaking but it’s not like it’s her fault....right? J was always a nice guy, treating her the best, they would always flirt with each other but it wasn’t anything serious, it was always just games but when she saw him kissing another person, her heart felt like it exploded and she felt like she had been betrayed and betrayal was too real to bear.

But how could this be a betrayal if they aren’t in love? That’s what they both keep telling themselves right?

He’s not her responsibility and she doesn’t love him like that, but she keeps lying to herself and he betrayed her and so she can’t let it go. Not just yet, she just needs to stay mad at him just a little longer.

The rain began to fall as she spoke to her friend, they laughed and continued speaking, hours has passed and the clock struck midnight and they said their goodnight and they both hung up. As she continued watching the tv, the rain outside came worse, Turning into a thunder storm. The wind whistled outside and lighting struck and she could hear the Thunder roaring. She began to shiver at the should and the flashes outside her windows “ why the fuck am I sacred of thunder” she whispered to herself as she continued to watch the series, it still came as a shock to her at how she was some what scared of the sound of thunder and lighting but she’s able to sit through and watch a full series of horror stories by herself at night.

Hours and hours had passed as she watched the series and she felt her eyes beginning to fall close and she then drifts of to sleep on her cloud like sofa and feels like dreams.

She dreams about her future, what it would be like if she followed what her parents told her to become, maybe then she would think she wasn’t such a Failure to her family.

Although her parents were always supportive, Y/N felt that she wasn’t enough, she saw the look on their face of disapproval when she said she wanted to become a fashion designer, it was like she disappointed her parents saying what she said and wanting to become a designer instead of a doctor. But her parents were always proud of what a women she had become and loves her deeply. However she felt that just In case her fashion career doesn’t workout, she learnt a few tricks from her older sister who was obviously a doctor about how to deal with someone is had been wounded.

The man still on the run 10 minutes away~

Kim Taehyung on the other hand was also having the worst fucking day of his entire life! How could this get any worse, first the drug and money exchange gone wrong with the rival gang, obviously he was set up to fail by you know who and now he’s not just running from the gang who are out to kill him for more money and truce between the gangs as Kim Taehyung’s boss thought he was out to take his place on the Cobras throne.

Now with the police are after him too, since he was like the “ right hand man to the king “cobra” he knew a lot about him and the police where out to shut all the bullshit down but Taehyung had his loyalty, but how loyal can a ‘dog’ be if he’s been abandoned but he never snitches. Running from the gangs, Taehyung has a run in with the police and they saw him at his venerable place, bruised up and cut deep, so they decided to take him out to show the “king cobra” what they could do with his “people”.

But obviously that was fucking useless cause they used him and played him hard.

And Taehyung was no longer a cobra at this moment of betrayal, Kim Taehyung knew where his loyalty lies and that was with himself, he will get his revenge on everyone that played him, the cobra, the police & his family.

He continued running as his life depended on it, but he never looked back to see if he was being followed he kept his eyes straight forward and went on. The rain kept pouring on him as he ran and ran and ran like there was no end to the road, he suddenly slowed down as he crouched down in pain and held his stomach, “fuuuck” he groaned. He wasn’t going to let today be the day that he died, he had a lot to live for if he wanted his revenge. He got up again clinging to stomach and continued walking. As he approached a few blocks of town houses, he had to get out of the rain and get some help of else he might die, he walked up the stairs to bang in the door but there was no response. He then continued to the next few houses but there was still no response. He groaned in frustration as there was no one to help him. He then saw a light at the end of the block of houses and walks towards the light, walked up the stairs and banged on the door as if trying to break down the door.

He continued banging on the door as if it was his last resort which it was, he whispered out all his might but the only thing that came out was a soft breath “please help” he never thought he would have to resort to begging but here he was outside a strangers door, hair and clothes drenched from the storm asking for help not knowing if the person inside would be kind enough to help a poor stranger in need.

As if he gave up, he leaned against the door and shut his eyes closed, but then he heard foot steps coming from the other side other door and the locks clicked and the door Swung open. He looked up slowly from down at the strangers feet to the face and he saw the stranger in front of him, “wow she’s beautiful” he thought to himself,

“Thank you” he sighed out of relief as his vision became blurry and everything went black.

At Y/N House ~

Y/N woke up from her sleep hearing banging on the front of her door, she lifted herself up from her sofa that was way to comfortable to leave the room and groaned out “ who the fuck is banging on my door at the hour”.

As she got up she realised that she fell asleep on the sofa and left the lamp on.

She looked at her clock and it was almost 3 am, she then whispered “ why do I always either get waken up or wake up at around 3am” as if she was scared and her suspicions came creeping in the back of her mind. And she thought ghost always wonder around at 3 AM. She then was pulled from her thoughts by the loud bang at the door again and she slowly made her way to the front of the house and she saw a figure standing outside, she thought to herself thinking she shouldn’t open up the door to strangers at this hour, as she slowly turned to leave she suddenly hears a cry of help “please help” the stranger whispered silently.

As she heard the cry of help, she thought to herself “ I should probably help this person” “ but what if the pardon is a Pedophile or someone really dangerous” as if her demon and angel thoughts were fighting each other she huffed out a breath and walk towards the door turned the lock opened the door. There stood a tall man twice her size, built like a Greek GOD, dressed in a suit that was drenched from the rain droplets of water falling from his fringe a hand holding onto his stomach that was bleeding, bruises on his face and the other hand holding onto the doorframe. The man then looked from down at her feet, then his eyes lifted up to her face, she then saw him smile for a second then his eyes suddenly shut closed and he fell forwards towards her.

Her eyes grew wide was she was trying to hold her balance and trying to hold a man twice her size that just fainted at her door step. Not knowing what to do as the man’s head laid on her shoulder, she then whispered “ fuck it” then leaned sideways and the man dropped to the floor. Sighing she looked down at the stranger that passed out on her, who she then dropped to the door, frustration and guilt overpowering her mind and she closed her eyes and thought for a moment.

She then crouched down, grabbed him from under his armpits and dragged him a little further into the house and closed the door. She then began to slowly drag him through her house to the living room, “ damn he’s fucking heaving” she choked out. After a though 20 minutes grafting him through her house, She then was able to lay him on her couch that she adored very much and said “ well maybe that wasn’t the best idea” as her white couch began to turn red form blood stain that fell form the stranger. Then her eyes turned to the gun that sat perfecting in the holster wrapped around the mans body. “Shit”. Her face was stoned cold from shock, asking herself why this man had a gun on him and why he was bleeding and she palmed then slapped her forehead, sighing out loud in frustration and anger at herself for helping this possibly dangerous handsome man.

She looked at him and for a few seconds fought with her self, asking herself if she should still help this stranger for all she knows he could be really dangerous. She shook off her thought and went into her bathroom to the her first AID kit to help this poor, passed out man on her couch. She ran back into the living room, crouched down lifted his shirt to tend to his wounds and bruises.

As she opened up his shirt she saw how beautiful he was built, the tone muscles that covered him and the tattoos that bloomed on his chest. She also noticed that he had many scars in his body, the ones where it shows be fought for his life.

As time passes, she stared at the beautiful but bruised up stranger and couldn’t help but feel bad for him, she thought of many things that he must have gone trough and couldn’t help but wonder who this man is.

Time deciding to go really fast~

The clocked struck 7:30 am and very loud pound bang came though the house from the door at the front. Y/N opened her eyes slowly and saw the stranger lying into of her, she hadn’t know that she fell asleep looking at the stranger and she drifted into her thoughts. Then the loud bang pulled her from her thought and she hurried to her feet and went to the door. The door opens and she saw a group on men in uniform. The mother-fucking police. “ Hi miss, sorry to disturb you this fine morning, We just wanted to ask you a few questions if that is ok” she nods her head and the police proceeded to ask the questions. “ Did a man came knocking on you door last night?” She hesitated for a moment and shook her head no and the made some notes in their notebooks and proceeded to ask another. “ Did you see or hear anything suspicious last night” she shook her head again said “ no officer” and the officer furrowed their eyebrows and said “Miss your are not lying to us are you?” she then replied “ no “ and they ushered “ Miss you need to tell us if you saw anything cause this man is a very dangerous man and he killed a lot of people and we need your help” The silence loomed around them but Y/N didn’t say a word. Although she just heard of how dangerous this man was, she helped him and already lied and there was no going back.

She could be arrested for helping a criminal and lying about it. The shock on her face was clear but she payed it off well and shook her head in disagreement and said “no officer, i didn’t see anything or any man of any sort” and smiled softly hoping to get them off her back.

The police stared at her as if they knew she was lying carried on saying,

“ Then miss what is this blood stain that is here on your door step?” She was surprised as she didn’t realize there would be blood at her door step even though a bleeding man was just at her foot steps a few hours ago. She then huffed out trying to sound as smooth as possible, then lied “ You see officer, last night I came home late From my boyfriend house and I forgot my underwear at his house, you know what happened there” she winked “ I came on my period and bled on the floor and I forgot to clean it up” she then thought “what the fuck was I thinking lying to the police like that, this is embarrassing” They’re not gonna believe that are they?

As she opened her mouth to speak again she stopped her herself as she saw the flustered faces on the officers, they then said “ oh, sorry miss, s-sorry to bother you and thank you for your help” then then bowed and turned and walked back to their car.

Y/n shocked at her own words hurriedly shut the door and leaned against it and spoke” fuck that was embarrassing”. As she turned she was greeted with a shirtless man with patched of wounds that SHE patched up holding a gun towards her head. Her eyes then widened in shock but not fear, “ so this is how your gonna treat your saviour?!” She spoke, the silent that came after could Pierce through someone like a knife, he then softly growled in a low husky voice “ thank you “ and lowered his gun. “You’re welcome “ she said as she rolled her eyes, bumped his shoulders and walked past him back towards the kitchen.

He then turned to follow the small girl that helped him last night. As they entered the kitchen he spoke lowly “ so YOU were the one that was bleeding in front of your own door” he asked, she then said with confidence “YES, the reason I said that was to save your ass and I don’t even know you” she turned to look at him and met his ice cold gaze, if looks could kill she would be dead right now. “ that’s right, you don’t know me” he hushed out “ so why would you help me” he raised his gun again. “ Will you stop raising your gun at me” she shouted, he then touched his stomach in pain. She then asked with worry in her voice “ are you ok”.. nothing, there was silence as she watched him crouch in pain. “Yea....I’m fine for now” he whispered, y/n furrowed her eyes brows and looked at him with sympathy and said “ do you want some pain killers?” He nodded and she turned on her feet to search trough her drawers for pain killers and sprung back into the kitchen to give home the medicine. She watched as he gulped down the pain killer with a glass of water and smiled, relieved that she was able to help him. She then broke the silence, “ since I don’t know you, want to tell me who you are?”

“No” he bluntly said he got up to pick his shirt up from the side of the sofa and put it on. “Also, who gave you permission to take my clothes off” he said glaring at her. She then scoffed “ dude, you seriously need to get you anger and manners in check, I helped you and this is how your repaying me!” His gaze soften at her words but then he frowned again saying “you don’t have to tell me every minute that you saved me”

Y/n couldn’t believe what the hell was going on, this man she just saved from DEATH itself never mind the police, DEATH! was treating her like this. But maybe he was right she thought, maybe she didn’t have to shove it in his face every minute that she saved him, “sorry” she said Turning from him as he was finally dressed in his bloodied clothes.

As she walked away, he slowly turned his head and leave into the kitchen, he thought to himself that he should be great full that this beautifully kind stranger helped him when no one else would. He then followed her into the kitchen and watch her make food for them. He watched as she busied herself in the kitchen with her task and a smile crept of his face. There was literally and angel right in front of him but he couldn’t give her the satisfaction of that and so his smile disappeared as she turn to look at him.

They then stared at each other for a few minutes and as if time slowed down he couldn’t believe his eyes, it was like love at first sight, he couldn’t believe he was falling in love with this stranger at their first meet but it couldn’t be love could it? He’s just great full for her helping him...isn’t he?

“What are you staring at” she broke the silence

“Obviously not you” he replied harshly

He has to be rude and he can’t fall in love with her not now and not ever, because of who he is, if he falls in love with her she could be a target to the gangs and it’s not like she’s in love with him anyway, she’s probably so scared for him and wouldn’t want anything to do with him after he leaves. He thought and sighed.

Y/n watched him as he lowered his gaze and thought to her self what this stager has gotten himself into that he’s running from the police, he’s such a beautiful and muscular man with tattoos that covered his body and instantly she almost fell in love. ALMOST. She was just glad she was able to help him and continued looking at him in pity.

A few moments had passed and she continued making the breakfast and he gazed up at her and watch her work.

She could literally be the light of his world but his world is to damn dangerous.

A few minutes later she had made breakfast, she turned and shoved the plate towards him “ Eat . You’ll need the energy” “thanks” he whispered and they both ate in silence. “I’m Taehyung” she looked up towards him as he broke the silence “I’m Y/N” “nice to meet you” he countered and then said softly “thank you for saving my life Y/N”.

Then awkward silence filled the room.

She shyly looked up from her plate and broke the silence again saying “ Why were the police looking for you?”

“ That’s none of your business” he said harshly and glared at her with his Piercing eyes

“Well it’s now my business since I helped you, why the were the police chasing you?” She shouted back

“ I don’t give a fuck that you helped me, I can literally kill you right now” laughing as he spoke out.

“ You really have a rude temper you know that?” She glared

Gazing back at her slowly, he opened his mouth to speak.

“I know” he spoke softly as if she just tamed him.

He watched as she got back to eating, and he watched the way she ate her food and how her lips moved as she continued speaking..as if he couldn’t like her more than he already does, everything she does changes him and makes him weaker than he currently is.

She was a girl full of sassiness and confidence but was also very kind and warm hearted and he couldn’t help but fall hard.

Was it wrong?

He got up as her gaze came up to meet his face,

He then leaned in over the small table and pecked her lips with his.

SMACK!

Out of shock her hand landed in his beautiful bruised face and he groaned out in pain “fuck, I deserved that” as he leaned back in his chair.

“ yes you deserved that!” She shouted back and he rose from his seat, rounded the table and approached her, grabbed her face and kissed her hard on the lips , flames rose up Y/N face and she shoved him backwards and slapped him hard again “ the fuck is wrong with you” she screamed. Taehyung held his face and smirked saying “ thank you for saving me princess”, he turned, put on his blazer then left, Y/N still shocked from what just happen lifted her hands to her lips and touched her lips softly with her fingers as she heard the door closed.

That was the first and last time last time they both saw each other.

The King just met his queen.

Tags: @sugarplummies

[fragileizywriting]

marinette and luka getting ready to go to a party or whatever, something very casual-- but full to the brim with friends-- maybe it's a baby shower, who knows. or maybe it's just a "hey i haven't seen any of you in so long, let's cater at my place" party that i know many adults have (at least, we make sure to do it a lot with many brazilians we know that live around here). anyway.

marinette puts on a maxi dress, just a plain one, with delicate ribbon tassels for the straps, and luka loves it. it's plain and pink, with absolutely no pattern to it, but it's not too long and ends at her ankle just where it's supposed to be. it displays her shoulders. which have freckles. she's paired the simple little dress with her miraculous, changed to a thin gold chain and a gold coin in the middle for modern times. her hair is down, but pulled back with a sparkly piranha clip with pearls, showing off pearl earrings.

a couple of them drift off from the main party and join a few stragglers on the balcony. it’s quiet, laidback, and sweet, but the two of them get left alone juuust for a tiny little bit while alya goes to refill a couple of trays of food with whatever’s in the oven.

and they’re left behind just for a little while. this short little thing, not enough to really do anything except exchange a few words about if they want to leave or if they want another drink or anything like that.

"you really like this dress, don't you?" she teases him over the table.

"why's that?"

"you can't stop looking at me."

"i always can't stop looking at you," he smiles. the conversation dies down just a bit between the two of them as he keeps looking her over. "you look so pretty in that dress. it’s hard to find dresses that long for your height, isn’t it?"

“yeah… it’s hard being a short-top. either i make it or i have to get so lucky,” marinette laughs.

“i guess you did, since you look perfect in it.”

she blushes. even after so long of knowing each other, it’s always easy to make her pink. "i'm going to tell you a secret-- you’ll have no idea where i found it.”

“where? second-hand?”

“no, no. you know that maternity store in forum des halles? we passed by it last week—”

“is that the store where you saw the pink toddler dress with the little mouse on it and you tried your hardest not to cry?”

she snorts into a smile. “yeah. i caved and went in just to look at it because it was so cute and i found this there, too— it's a maternity dress. it's supposed to stretch throughout the nine months."

he short circuits. “you—”

“it was an accident, but it fits totally fine, doesn’t it?” she picks lint off, shyly, letting him fit in the gaps. how… how is she going to look when she’s round and full in it? “so, i guess i’ll have this for a long time.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

By the king’s hand 🐍 III

Warnings: warnings to be added as we progress but this series may contain non-consent, violence, death, and other triggers. (This chapter: oral)

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You await the king’s next move.

Note: One day off. Managed to get this done!

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

When at last you managed to look away from the likeness of the imperious king, you tried to sit. You found it hard to stay still however and instead, paced the expanse of the chamber. You stopped at the tall windows to look out onto the palace lawns, a glimpse of the city visible beyond the walls. Would you ever see the other side of them again?

You looked down at yourself as you swept away from the glass panes. The gaudy gown made you grimace and you went back to your restless strides. You rung your hands and made yourself stop, fidgeted with the thin fabric that swished around your legs, and squinted closely at the few pieces of miscellany scattered on tables; a few pens, a ring, and a bound book.

The sound of boots came muffled from the corridor and you turned as the doors shifted. The guard without pushed inward and stood back as the king swept past him. You stopped behind the sofa and watched Loki as he didn’t seem aware of your presence. A boy, about fifteen or so, followed at his heels and barely evaded the snap of the doors as they shut.

You bowed and waited for his acknowledgement. You received none as you kept your head down and followed him with strained eyes as he crossed to the set of doors painted with winding snakes. The young boy opened them and the king disappeared beyond them, though they remained ajar.

You waited, hands folded, chin lowered, and listened. The soft rustle of clothing, the ruffle of activity unseen. It was a time before the king bid away his servant.

“Go.” His voice slithered through the silence, “Fetch my dinner, boy.”

You held your breath as the adolescent emerged and swiftly crossed to the other doors. He left you there and another deathly hush rose around you, laced with anticipation and impatience. You heard soft footsteps approach the open doorway and halt upon the threshold.

“Little mouse,” the king said cloyingly, “You might stand up straight now.”

You bit down and raised your head. Your eyes met his as he smirked across at you. He wore a deep green robe embroidered with golden serpents, tied loosely at his waist to allow a glimpse of his pale torso. His silk pants were loose as finely stitched slippers poked out from beneath the hems. His crown did not top his locks as they hung loosely along his shoulders.

“Why, you do look much recovered,” he purred as he casually pushed away form the doorframe, “Better, even.” He did not come close, merely went to the table and pulled out a chair to perch. He slung a leg over the other as he bent an elbow on the tabletop. “I was, most irritatingly, called away to council.”

You were quiet. You stayed on the other side of the couch as if it were a barricade from his lingering gaze.

“Come closer,” he beckoned with two fingers, “I should like a proper look at… the gown.”

You hesitated. Your flesh, though healing, was still tender along your back. You went to him with careful steps and stopped a foot away from him. He looked you up and down. He reached out and his fingers closed around your wrist and he drew you between his legs as he uncrossed them.

His fingertips flew quickly to the beading along your bodice and he traced the curve of your side. He hummed as he peered up at you, your chest obscuring you slightly.

“Hmmm, I think I preferred you naked and chained,” he snickered. “Do you feel me still? Is the lesson still seared into your flesh, little mouse?”

Your lip curled and you swallowed. You nodded.

“Speak, when you are addressed by your king.” He demanded.

“Yes, your majesty,” you uttered, “The marks remain.”

He bunched your skirts in his hands and bared your thighs. He tickled your skin and pushed firmly to knead the muscle.

“Alas, I did send for my supper and I would not the boy happen upon my little games,” his thumb grazed the crease of your pelvis, “He is innocent and easily frightened.”

You stood, tolerant of his touch, as you felt a peculiar tingle inside. Disgust laced with something more; something you wanted to deny. His hands dropped reluctantly and he shifted in his seat.

“You will sit and eat. I understand you did little of that during your internment,” he said sharply, “I suspect it is the reason you had to be dragged out of there. That I did need to charge my staff with reviving you.”

“Must be the reason,” you muttered as you sat in the other chair across from him. You caught the gleam in his eye. “Your majesty.”

“Throughout your tenure here, thus far, I’ve a chance to learn more of the errant trespasser,” he preened, “Your uncle, Bo, he is a crafter and a merchant. You were charged with shaping clay pots for his shelf. Your little friend, Gilla, she is a baker’s daughter. I did not care much for her though.”

“Gilla…” you repeated quietly. “You…”

“I did not harm her. I only asked her some questions.” 

The door opened suddenly and he sat up. The boy was accompanied by two other servants who set out wine, glasses, and plates. The flurry of activity departed as quickly as it had arrived and you were left alone once more with the king.

“She’s a talkative one but she does not say much of substance,” he mused as he took his fork, “But I still learned much.”

“Oh?” You twirled your fork anxiously.

“Nothing more than I couldn’t surmise on my own,” he shrugged, “I’ve come to realise your obstinacy.” He mused, “And let me say, that will not hold and I do look forward to testing it.”

You frowned and he bit into a morsel of pork. He chewed and swallowed emphatically.

“Oh, that look,” he pointed at you with his fork, “It assured me I am right.”

🐍

Your stomach was both happy and sore from the meal. It had been long since you had eaten much more than broth and hard bread, if anything at all. While the food was delicious, the circumstance was less than. You found it less than hospitable to be under the gaze of the king. Though he was not so intent, his eyes returned often enough to make you worry. You were wise enough to know that when the meal was over, there would be no pretense left, though you could not guess exactly at what he meant to do.

The young boy, who he called Hal, cleared the table and left another bottle of wine in his stead. Loki poured another glass for himself and glanced at the one you’d barely touched.

“I’d suggest you drink but truly it makes no difference to me,” he winked as he took a gulp of his own. “But you do seem rather… antsy.”

You said nothing and took the glass. You drank deeply and nearly spluttered. You drained the cup and placed it back on the table.

“I do not enjoy your ploys, your majesty, I would prefer you be to the point,” you said, “I am not naïve and the idea would be entirely unknown to you.”

“Ploys? To the point? I haven’t an idea of what you mean, little mouse.”

You drew your brows together and blinked. “If you long to see me squirm, I already am.”

“Oh, I do see it but I will not be done with you so quickly,” he threw back the last of his glass and set it beside your own, “Come.”

He took your head and led you to the door of his bedchamber. You had the urge to stop before you could enter but let him guide you. The black drapings of his bed, the silver sheets, and the lush pillows assured you of your fate. You knew what would come but you could not fathom the extent of his cruelty.

It was said that it hurt the first time for maidens. You suspected the pain would be worse with him. He didn’t make anything easy. He always added to any discomfort. He pleasured in it.

“Squirming, shaking, or shivering, mouse?” he wondered as he neared the bed and you trailed behind him. He tugged you onward. “Is it fear? It must be for there is no draft.”

“Stop, stop, please,” you said breathily, “Do not draw this out any further.”

He tilted his head as he turned and sat on the edge of the bed. He released you and untied his robe and lifted himself to drag the tails from under him. He tossed it away and sprawled across the mattress with a sigh. He sidled over and bent an arm behind his head. You tried to ignore the bulge in his silk pants as he rubbed the space beside him.

“I had the impression that you already slept for quite a time but… I suppose the dungeon still takes a toll,” he remarked, “Lay down, little mouse. You might put out the light before you do.”

You looked around and went to the lamp on the round table in the corner. You blew it out and the silver slats of moonlight lit your path back to the bed. You slid your slippers off before you touched the woven blanket. You lifted a knee onto the mattress and the king gripped your wrist again. He pulled you down against him in a single motion.

“I am rather tired. My day did stretch on,” he said as he nestled you against him. His other hand went down and rested over his crotch. He rubbed himself and groaned. “A good night’s sleep would do us both well.”

He retracted his hand and pulled your arm across his torso. The taut muscles of his stomach were warm against your skin and sent a tickle along your spin.

“The nights of late summer do tend to grow chilly,” he reached over and played with the embroidery of your bodice. “And I find myself restless.”

He let out a long breath and the tension left his body. You laid in silence, eyes wide as you waited for him to do something. Anything. A rumble went through his chest and made you flinch. He chuckled.

“In due time, little mouse,” he promised, “Our games are not over yet.”

🐍

You didn’t recall dozing but you awoke gently to stirring beside you. The king slipped his arm from beneath you carefully. You were surprised by his caution. The bed moved slightly as he shimmied to the other side and stood. He moved in the dark as you remained as you were.

He rounded the bed and paused. He slid his hand along your thigh, your skirts tangled in your legs. He drew away and you listened to him retreat to the bath chamber. There was the subtle swish of water and dainty activity beyond. You wanted to fall back asleep and escape the odd reality.

Then you heard more. A low groan that soon grew to laboured breaths. It went on for several minutes. You crushed your head into the pillow as you tried not to listen. A stifled grunt ended the illicit rhythm. Another sigh.

He didn’t emerge for a few more minutes. He went into the receiving chamber and you heard the other set of doors creak. Shortly, you heard the thin voice of the boy, Hal, and the king returned to let the boy dress him. You watched him by his shadow in the early morning light.

“Go to Birger and fetch the rest of the girl’s wardrobe,” he bid, “I expect that all will be put away before my return. Bring her some food when she wakes and ask Birger to help you, should you require it.” The king strode to the door and stopped again, “And make sure the guards remain on watch. She is more trouble than she seems.”

You laid still until you were certain they were gone, though Hal remained in the receiving chamber. You wouldn’t fall back asleep. You were too on edge. So you stared up at the ceiling and brushed your arm over the spot where Loki had slept beside you. 

It hadn’t been at all what you expected. It was like you were holding your breath, waiting for the tension to snap the branch beneath you. Waiting for Loki to be just who you knew him to be. The king who had lashed you in the dungeon, the arrogant prince who demanded and got all that he wanted.

When you dared to rise and poked your head out into the next chamber, the boy hopped up from where he sat before the hearth. You were careful not to take long steps as the skirt threatened to bare more than you wanted. 

“You don’t have to,” you waved him down, “I can tend to myself.”

“I must bring your morning meal,” he insisted. “As the king wishes.”

“The king,” you mulled as you took a seat at the table, “Is he kind to you?”

He narrowed his eyes and thought, then shrugged. “Well, I suppose he is crueler to others so yes.”

“That is hardly kindness,” you said.

“I’ve had worse masters,” Hal replied. “And less rich.”

You nodded and ran your fingernail along the tabletop. “Well then…” You tapped the wood, “Go on then.”

The boy left and you let out your breath. You hung your head and rubbed your eyes. You listened to the morning birds and the breeze in the leaves. You knew the calm would give way soon to a great storm.

🐍

After you picked at a hard-boiled egg and some rashers, Hal returned with Birgir. They carried a large chest between them and set it down heavily before a painted armoire in the bedchamber. You watched as they hung the silks, satins, and brocades. Slippers were placed along the lower shelves and a few cloaks slung alongside the numerous gowns.

Birger bid you change your outfit and you placated him if only to rid yourself of his disapproval. You dressed in a burgundy dress with a similar cut as the first. None offered much more coverage, often less, and you scowled at the thought of donning them. You tucked your feet into a pair of slippers and washed your face of the make-up that remained from the previous day.

You were once more alone and left to languish in the king’s empty chambers. You thought of the dungeon. At least that was not a farce. At least the dank, dripping depths did not try to disguise your sentence.

You pulled the curtains back from the glass doors in the bedchamber. A balcony stood without as the sun peaked. You slowly turned the curved handle and pulled them open. You stepped out tentatively and looked around. You inhaled the scent of the wind and pollen. You hadn’t been outside in so long that you were overcome with nostalgia, with longing and dread. 

Would you ever know what it was to run across the grass again? To watch the rivers flow and dream of following them?

You went to the rail and looked down at the trimmed lawns and their pristine hedges and the beds of colourful buds. Birds danced along the rims of the fountain and other critters dove in and out of the maze of greenery. You leaned your elbows on the marble rail and stared down. It was far; far enough to kill.

You looked at the balcony, at the slates of the railing, at any foothold that might be found along the wall. You bent further over as you tried to spy those below and if they were close enough to land. Your thoughts ventured to escape, as risky as it might be, and you were want to laugh at your foolishness.

You felt something in your skirts, then a firm grip on your ankles. Suddenly you were tipped over the edge and you cried out as you were certain you would plummet to your death. You grabbed onto the marble slats as you we held dangling over the rail and you looked up at your accoster.

The king guffawed at your fear as you clung to the side of the balcony and slowly pulled your feet back over to the other side. His hand slid up your leg and ass and he grabbed the back of your bodice as he drew you up straight. He caught your hand before you could slap him.

“Now, now,” his hand crushed yours, “Did we not already learn this lesson?”

“You could’ve killed me!” You whined.

“I could’ve. And still could,” he smirked as he trapped you against the rail. “There is much I could do to you.”

You stared at him in disgust as he pressed his body to yours. His hand went to your chin and he framed your face with his long fingers.

“I could bend you back over this bannister and let my kingdom hear what it is I want to do to you,” he sneered. “Gods, the thought has me harder than last eve.”

He dragged his thumb over to your lips and poked inside your mouth. You resisted for a moment, until it hurt, and he pressed down on your tongue.

“If you were to be on your knees, no one should see you,” he said, “They wouldn’t know why it was you kneel before me…”

You swallowed as your stomach filled with bile. He pulled his thumb from your mouth and took a step back.

“So on your knees for your king,” he pushed apart the tails of his overcoat and lifted the bottom of his tunic as he unlaced his trousers, “I’ve been rather patient and it is not a habit I know well.”

You stared in aghast as he rubbed himself through his trousers and winced. His eyes flicked back to you and his face darkened.

“I said ‘on your knees’,” he barked, “Little mouse, you must really start obeying me or I shall have to repeat that lesson.”

You slowly bent your leg and rigidly got down to your knees. He pushed open the front of his trousers and stepped close. You stared at the ground as he pulled himself free and stroked his length. He grabbed your chin again and forced your head up. You tried not to look at his member bobbing in your vision.

“Open that trite little mouth. I will make better use of it than your bitter words,” he squeezed and you gasped at the sharp twinge it sent through your skull.

You opened your mouth and he pressed his tip to your lips. He rested it there and rubbed it back and forth teasingly. You closed your eyes and he slapped your cheek lightly with his fingers.

“No, no, keep those eyes open,” he demanded, “They look so nice staring up at me.” He slid slowly inside your mouth, “So frightened. I daresay, you look, almost, innocent.”

He pushed further in until he was at your throat. You gagged and he went deeper with a snicker. He gripped your head with one head as he thrust to his limit and your eyes welled as you struggled to breathe around him. You’d never done anything with a man more than a playful peck on the lips. You never spent very much time thinking of more.

He eased you back and you took a deep gulp of air before he invaded your throat again. The sickly noise of your spit and his member was repulsive. His eyes held yours as he moved his hips slowly and you latched onto his belt to keep from slipping.

“Little mouse, I only hope your mouth is an omen of what else you have to offer,” he purred as he rocked his pelvis, “A delight…”

Each thrust felt deeper than the last, harder, faster. His groans rose in the warm air as he was encouraged by his own voice. He grew louder as your eyes threatened to roll back and his face contorted in his pleasure. He kept a hand on your jaw and the other on the back of your head as he used your mouth.

You were dizzy as his intrusion felt as if it would never end. He threw his head back and you dared to close your eyes as your mouth turned salty. His voice rose louder and louder and filled your head. He dipped down your throat and his motion staggered. He gripped you tightly and moaned as he emptied himself down your throat.

He grunted with his few final jerks and pulled out sharply. He released you just as quickly and you fell to the side as he backed away and panted. You coughed his seed up onto the stone as he watched you. You could feel his shadow as he neared and you looked up as he cradled his glistening member.

“You’ve made such a mess, little mouse,” he reproached, “I shall forgive it this time, but the next, you won’t muddy my floors so.”

You choked as you sat back on your heels and stared at him with wet eyes. Your throat ached horribly and your head still spun.

“Go on, clean me up, darling,” he looked down at his cock in his hand. “I suspect I am late already.”

You shoved your repulsion down and neared him on your knees. He angled his tip back to your lips and you took him again in your mouth. You pressed your tongue to his member and slowly pulled back as you lapped up the last of his cum. He guided you up and down a few times and relented once more. 

He parted from you again, content, and tucked himself away in his trousers. As he laced himself up, he cleared his throat.

“Well, little mouse, I will say, I’ve done little for my patience,” he chuckled, “I do suggest you might have some wine before I return again… it is said to dull the pain.” He neatened his tunic and overcoat and ran his fingers through his hair. “And I promise, there will be a lot of pain.

[starkeristheendgame]

Hunter!Tony x Demon!Peter AU

Hunter!Tony binds Demon!Peter to himself in order to find the monster that murdered his late fiancée. Lead down roads he’d never imagined himself taking, Tony discovers that maybe revenge isn’t the only thing he’s hungry for.

TW/Tags: Supernatural AU | Enemies to something | Hurt/Comfort | Angst | Injury | Blood | Near-death experience | First kiss

“Is being a pervert part of the hiring process or are you just getting your money’s worth?”

Tony couldn’t see it, but he knew regardless that those plush lips would be pushed into a pout and those arched brows would be furrowed into a petulant scowl.

“If you’ve got me running around like your little errand boy, the least you could do is be nice to me,” a high, sweet voice simpered back. The face that belonged to it was just as youthful when it appeared in the mirror over his shoulder, watching him button his shirt with vested interest.

Tony didn’t deign to dignify it with a reply, staring down the pretty little monster until it let out a sigh.

“Fine. I have your lead. Arkansas, a seedy little dive known as the Dog Den.”

Something hot and rabid twisted in his gut and he had to pause his motions, hands trembling almost imperceptibly. It felt a lot like rage and a little bit like hope.

“Are you sure?”

Eyes the colour of fresh honey rolled so hard he could almost hear the muscles stretching. “No. I asked a magic eight-ball.”

He twisted with a snarl, reaching out. The ring on his finger pulsed with a molten orange glow and between slender wrists a chain that shimmered transparently flared to life, forming a delicate set of shackles no wider than if he’d wound a necklace there.

He curled a finger in the glowing links, dragging the Demon close enough that he could see the flecks of gold in those dark eyes. 

“I’m sure,” it repeated, softer, quieter, holding his gaze with wariness, but not fear.

He let the chain drop after a moment, grunting as he turned around and finished buttoning up his shirt. When he twisted to reach for the jacket the lithe figure was sprawled out on his bed, artfully arranged as the Demon flipped through a magazine Tony knew hadn’t been in his own bags.

“You know,” the Demon piped up again as he tucked in his shirt, “maybe if you smiled a little more, the ugly things in the dark wouldn’t try to kill you as much.”

“Shut up.”

“Not possible.”

“I’ll make it possible.”

“Oh, you always promise me a good time and never deliver.”

Despite himself, Tony found he had to wrestle fiercely with a smile. “Peter.”

That heady, dangerous gaze pinned itself to him again. He met it evenly, ignoring the thrum of his pulse. The Demon really couldn’t have picked a prettier vessel to take over, a smudge of parasitic darkness inside the prettiest packaging.

That pink little mouth opened like it was considering another witty retort, then closed. Instead the Demon - Peter, merely hummed and went back to flicking through his magazine, disinterestedly glossing over half-naked women and gossip scandals.

It was almost disconcerting. To look at the pretty little slip of a thing sprawled out on his bed like some rented whore and to know that behind that pretty face was a being of Hell’s creation. Something twisted and dark, a corrupted soul festering behind a distracting smokescreen.

Peter Parker was the sort of face Tony would’ve fallen for like a rock, if he hadn’t been the one to summon the Demon to the surface.

Perhaps that’s why the Demon had chosen such a nice outfit. A desperate bid not to get ganked the moment he crawled out of Hell.

“You’re thinking too loudly,” Peter sighed, turning a page idly. He’d rolled over onto his stomach now, jaw propped in his palm. 

“You can’t read minds. Don’t get comfortable, we’re leaving soon,” he grunted in reply, shrugging on a jacket.

“Can’t I just meet you there?” the Demon whined, looking up with (literally) sinful puppy eyes.

“No.”

He left it at that, flat and unforgiving, as he had to be. In another life he’d have fallen for that soft whine and that pleading look. Might’ve taken his shirt right off and crawled onto the bed, put that open mouth to good use.

But this was not that life, and that pretty face was stolen.

He checked all his things then reached out, plucking the gossip rag from Peter’s hands and throwing it in the trash. “Meet me at the car.”

“I was reading that,” Peter huffed indignantly, glowering up at him before he disappeared, leaving behind nothing but a dip in the bedspread and the scent of copper.

He was sprawled in the backseat when Tony made his out to the 1970 Challenger he called his own, a set of stylish shades covering his eyes, fluffy hair unkempt and arms folded behind his head.

“Feet off the upholstery,” he huffed as he turned the key, swinging the car out of the parking lot and onto the road with a loud rumble of the engine.

“I know for a fact you sleep in this car and my shoes are clean,” Peter answered primly, angling his head towards the open window and the warmth of the morning sun.

Arkansas was a three day drive. They spent the first in almost complete silence, although the Demon did sulk when they stopped for gas and Tony declined to buy him anything. Rather than waste money on another motel he pulled onto a quiet patch of land behind a thicket of trees, settling across the bench seat with a sigh.

“Fuck off and come back in the morning.”

“Eloquent as ever,” Peter griped, leaning over the seat, arms folded and chin atop them. He looked laughably angelic in the darkness, all soft edges, voice quiet enough that a mouse wouldn’t flee it.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispered, and when Tony cracked open an eye to repeat his command, he was gone.

Gone, until he thumped his fist on the window at the ass-crack of dawn, looking chipper and cheerful, Starbucks cup in hand. “Up and at ‘em, sunshine! The monsters aren’t gonna hunt themselves!”

Tony considered stabbing him there and then, but Peter was unfortunately an asset he couldn’t afford to lose. Invaluable, as much as it stroked the Demon’s ego. He settled for glaring, baring past the Demon as he stomped off to relieve himself. 

The next two nights went much the same, although Peter got chattier the more bored he became. Fiddled with the radio, disappeared for moments only to return holding an ‘interesting’ leaf or rock, scooped up from the side of the road Tony had just driven past.

Arkansas was crisp and bright and dewy in the mid-weeks of spring. It was so different from the New York of his youth, with it’s towering glass jungle and concrete pillars. It was a visceral reaction to think of the scent of flowers and clean air in Sicily, of pink lipstick smudged on his jaw, a laugh fading slowly, overtaken by the rumble of the engine.

Countryside became a smattering of industrialisation, bars and houses, garages and stores. He wanted to keep on going, chase that tail until he caught it and tore it off, but he knew better than to rush in half-blind.

He had to eat something proper. Had to rest. Had to learn everything he could from the paltry little stack of papers that Peter had given him, printed out at a library miles and miles back in the time it had taken Tony to piss and buy a bottle of water at a gas station.

Food, first. 

The diner was like every other. Gaudy and cheap with food that was more grease than nutrition. Peter’s nose scrunched the moment they entered and he looked nonplussed when they were guided to a booth.

The Demon made a big show of pulling out a pack of wipes from the pocket of his fitted jacket, scrubbing the table as the waitress listed off the day’s specials. Tony rolled his eyes before ordering coffee and a slap-up breakfast, about to dismiss the waitress when Peter cut in with a saccharine smile. 

“Bacon too, please. Crispy. And a milkshake. Thanks a bunch, darling.”

She arched her brows but made no comment, glancing at Tony before leaving. Then it was Tony’s turn to stare and quirk his brow, watching the Demon shrug lightly. 

“What? I get cravings.”

Peter fiddled with a napkin as they waited, as Tony read through the sheets of paper. Folding it over and over into a little crane that he perched atop the salt shaker. 

“Where did you even learn origami?” Tony grunted, watching it sway before it stabilised. Peter’s gaze flicked up to him and there was something unexpected there. A hollowness, heavily guarded but flickering in the gold of his irises even so. 

“Even the worst of the worst need hobbies, hunter,” he uttered softly, and then their food arrived and they were lost to the silence that overcame those sating their hunger. Peter ate with an almost childlike manner, easily distracted, toying with his straw before each sip. He even swung his legs a little and drummed his fingertips on the table top.

The perfect performance.

He looked away.

Peter was unusually quiet after that, subdued as they made their way to a motel relatively close to the Dog Den. He didn’t even pester the receptionist or try to embarrass Tony by pretending to be some sort of rent boy as he purchased a key, eyeing the Demon consideringly.

When Tony slipped beneath the sheets Peter disappeared without argument, offering only a mock salute before he flickered and was gone, leaving nothing but a wisp of dark smoke.

He wondered where the Demon went. Back to Hell? Some run-down library to read through the night? An empty motel room to pilfer their cable connection?

The disconcertion over Peter’s silence left him the next day, when he commanded Peter to steer clear as he got dressed to hit their lead.

“You can’t go alone,” Peter announced, frowning.

“I can and I am. You’ll just attract attention,” Tony pointed out, shrugging on another flannel and tucking the flask of holy water against his belt.

“And if you die?” Peter shot back. It surprised his brows into lifting as he met the Demon’s gaze, tipping his head.

“Then you’ll be free of your bindings and there’ll be one less hunter ganking your friends. What’s the problem?”

Peter’s mouth opened, then closed, as if he was only suddenly remembering that he wasn’t in this little dynamic duo willingly.

“I get the Challenger if you die,” the Demon said instead, turning away from.

And maybe Tony should’ve thought more about that demand, because the only thing he could think of as he lay bleeding in the middle of the woods several long hours later was that Peter would most definitely get the car all scratched up and dirty.

Demons had no respect for vehicle maintenance. 

He coughed wetly and grunted, pressing a hand to his bleeding chest. They wouldn’t, he supposed. Demons could just fly everywhere.

Peter had adamantly argued it was not teleportation.

He breathed out a sigh and shifted fumbling for his wallet. His fingers smeared blood against the white edges of the crumpled photograph in there and he stared at his wife’s smile, frozen in time and taken just days before a Demon on a murder kick had burnt her soul up from within her, along with their unborn daughter.

“I’d say see you soon, but. W’both know m’goin’ to Hell, not where you are,” he told her image softly, giving it a weary, slow smile.

“Hell would ask for a refund,” came a familiar voice, and moments later there were warm hands on his jaw, tilting his head up. “You stupid bastard. I told you not to go alone. I could feel there was someone stronger in this town!”

Peter’s eyes were wide and round, plump lower lip between his teeth as he dropped his gaze, eyeing where Tony was slowly leaking his insides all over his outsides. “Shit,” the Demon breathed softly.

Tony made an agreeable sound. Shit was about right. He’d run head first into the messy, gruesome end that almost every hunter found themselves at. The end of the road; the final curtain; bleeding out somewhere at the hands of something twisted and ugly and evil.

“Guess you get th’car,” he rasped, aiming for humorous. It fell short when he blanched and more hot fluid slid down his throat and his chest, pooling at his navel. 

“Shut up,” Peter growled at him, letting go of his head to pull up his shirt. His fingertips were light, but it still felt like fire. Hot and licking over everything he touched. “God, you’re so fucking stupid. I told you to take me. I told you I should go.”

“C’n you save th’gloatin’ ‘till I’m dead?” he asked, frowning. Most hunters probably didn’t get this much conversation on their deathbeds.

Peter shot him a positively scathing look, pressing down hard on the wound. It made agony flare up his torso, smothering his pathetic yell of pain into a weak, thready rasp.

“This is gonna hurt us both,” the Demon muttered, looking inexplicably angry as he settled his palms flat atop the worst of the wound. A muted sound was all Tony could manage, watching the Demon with hazy confusion.

For a moment, nothing happened. 

Or at least, Tony didn’t notice it happening. 

But then a strange, new type of pain began to lance through him, battling against the numbing burn of his torn organs. It crept through his veins and branched out, a tingling, almost electric sensation that had him tensing as best as his broken body would let him.

He opened his mouth and if he’d had the energy left for it he’d have reeled in surprise when Peter leaned forwards, slotting their mouths together firmly.

The Demon’s lips were soft and plush, with the faintest trace of soda. His lips were warm, too, just a breath above what would be normal for a person. 

Tony almost didn’t know what he should be recoiling at the most; kissing a Demon, or kissing what was for all intents and purposes a sixteen year old.

Peter didn’t try to do anything else and Tony realised in the timeframe that he’d been internally broiling over the situation, breathing had become easier.

The fire was dulling to a simmer; a slow ember that still ached but no longer made him feel like he had one foot in the gates of Hell. His breath hitched and Peter pulled back slowly, keeling to one side slightly and almost falling over as he drew away.

His eyes were pools of inkblack, shiny and void as the Demon sucked in his own rattled breath, pulling shaking hands away from Tony’s torso.

He let his gaze fall slowly to his chest. He was still covered in blood, but the flesh there looked smooth and unmarred. Where he was once carved open like a pot hole there was once again closed off muscle and flesh.

He looked up in surprise. Peter was on his knees, hands braced on his thighs as he rode out the strain of wrangling his leashed powers. His eyes were slowly returning to the human hue, red-rimmed as if he’d been crying, plump lips downturned.

Tony licked his own, jerked straight back into the sensation of Peter’s mouth on his.

“Why?” he demanded roughly, bringing a hand to subconsciously touch his chest.

Peter shot him a sidelong look, the effect slightly dampened by the way he looked vaguely sick.

“A thank you might be nice,” the Demon sneered at him, huffing a twisted curl from his eyes as Tony pushed himself to his feet, ungainly and uncoordinated. Bracing himself on a tree, Tony stared down at the Demon.

At Peter, who’d saved his life. Against all he stood to benefit from Tony’s death, against all that he’d done his best to kill him when he first discovered he’d been shackled to Tony. 

Coughing, Tony did his best to pull his shredded shirt closed before he made a rough gesture. “Get up. You’ll have to take us back to the motel. My car’s still at the bar.” Smashed up or stolen, he realised with a pang of sadness and anger.

“Oh no, lover-boy. You’ve been keeping me at half-mast all year. One night of fun has done me in for the night. I’m limp - get your own ride into town.”

Tony glowered, but all his frowning and snapping proved fruitless. Peter’s powers had been bound tight for almost a year and he really was burnt out, looking every inch as young as his vessel as he wobbled to his feet. The most he managed them was a few meters down the road when he tried.

It took them until sunrise to come close enough to the town that Tony could hotwire a car from the side of the road, ditching it a reasonable way from the motel and wiping it down with a clean patch of his shirt to get rid of his fingerprints.

He wasn’t bothered about Peter’s. Peter had mentioned having this particular vessel for over fifty years - his prints would be written off as a glitch on the system.

He went straight for the shower, scrubbing his skin pink as he tried to sleuth off the memory of being cut open, of dying alone in the dark and the cold, certain that this was his one-way ticket downstairs.

Brushed his teeth; trying to rid himself of the guilt that came with realising that the kiss had been pleasant, to a degree. Soft, pink skin, the sweetness of a soda consumed while Tony had been-

He shut off the water.

When he stepped out, Peter was actually curled up in the bed, looking almost infantile with the covers pulled up to his jaw. He seemed only half-awake, barely stirring when Tony entered the room. He was pulling on a new shirt when Peter spoke, voice sleepy and quiet.

“My Uncle taught me.”

Tony paused, glancing over his shoulder.

“Origami,” Peter clarified softly. “You asked me. At the diner. Where I’d learned origami. My Uncle taught me when I was thirteen.”

Pulling on a pair of sweatpants, Tony took a light seat on the edge of the bed, each of them facing a separate wall. He was quiet for a little while, digesting the information.

“Thank you for saving me,” he grunted after a moment, uncomfortable with the intimacy of the words. It wasn’t anything he’d ever thought he’d say to a Demon. Peter had gotten him out of scrapes and healed up wounds before, but always under command and never anything so serious.

Desperate to rein back some control, he slid under the sheets and stared up at the ceiling. “If you ever kiss me again, I’ll use thread soaked in holy water and sew your mouth shut.”

Irritatingly, Peter snorted. “That was hardly a kiss.”

“You’re in a snot-nosed brat’s body, what would you know about kissing?” Tony shot back, brows pinching into a frown.

“This,” Peter huffed at him, rolling over and on top of him.

Tony blamed the fact that he didn’t pull away on simply being too tired to.

[just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi]

The Lonely House

Another thing with Teddy when he was still an unnamed whumpee. and a picrew i guess. 

CW: Captivity, food mention, easily angered whumper, blood mention, someone else cutting your nails, implied isolation, brief noncon touch (nonsexual), restraints mention.

Teddy carefully measured out the oats into a little cup, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the other hand. He added the water and salt before putting it on the only burner that worked. 

His ankle chain dragged across the ground as he got the milk from the mini fridge. 

There was still a little left, but he marked it on the pad stuck to the fridge. Milk, protein bars, oranges, body wash. There was a little box at the bottom, meant for special treats, where he had just written “colored pencils.” He tried to keep the requests simple, preferring to keep the option rather than write something too big and never be allowed it again. 

It had said “going home” for weeks at first.

The oats boiled and Teddy went back to check on them. He had enough until the day the Man would come back, but it was still a bad idea to waste food. Seven days; it was always seven days but Teddy didn’t know what day it was. He liked to think the visits came on Saturdays, but it could have been a Tuesday for all he knew. Regardless, it was still two days away. 

The Man would come up from the hatch in the floor and talk to him for a little bit. He’d take the list, take the trash, and then Teddy would be alone for another seven days. The attic apartment was small, but it was worlds better than the coal shed. 

There was a small kitchen - really only a broken stove top and a sink. Next to the sink, a curtain obscured a small alcove with a toilet and showerhead. There was a window above the sink, but it was boarded over. Light still trickled through the cracks, sending sideways shafts of yellow warmth onto the old tile floors. There was space for a normal sized fridge, but there was only a small one in its place. The other side of the kitchen was made nearly unusable from the slant of the roof. 

Teddy got his oatmeal and walked around the single wall to the bedroom area. As he walked by the locked trap door, he heard a noise from somewhere farther down in the house. He froze instantly, hand over his mouth. He was supposed to be silent. Fully silent, always silent. The Man was home, the man was in the house. Teddy could never tell, never knew when he was actually there or not. 

After agonizing moments spent staring wide eyed at the hatch, Teddy uncovered his mouth to give a shaky exhale and rub his eyes under his glasses. Holding the mug of oatmeal with one hand, he gathered his chain in the other to keep it from dragging too loudly. 

The bedroom area was the same size as the kitchen, twin bed pressed as far as it could get to the side. Because of the roof, there was the smallest of spaces between the edge of the bed and where the slant met the floor. It was his hiding place, but one rendered completely useless from the chain that would lead up to it. But for now, Teddy was fine with just sitting on the bed to eat his breakfast. The wall had a bookshelf and a little table and chair. 

It had come with a few books, which Teddy had read by this point, but he was nervous to ask for any more. 

The Man didn’t like it when he got greedy. 

Teddy at his breakfast in silence and rinsed out the mug. Another thing that the Man didn’t like was if he got messy. No, he wanted Teddy quiet and clean and behaved. The shed had been a nightmare, small and dirty and dark. Teddy didn’t want to go back, didn’t want to be dragged downstairs and outside by his hair. So he did the washing and folded his clothes and kept his attic clean. He kept the floors swept and the tile mopped and the spines of the books upright and in order. 

After breakfast had been eaten and cleaned up, Teddy made his way back to the desk. One of the books was an old algebra textbook. He had sworn to himself that he would never touch math the second he was done with school, but here he was. Doing algebra. 

He was considering asking for another type of workbook. Something else, maybe something a little harder? Math wasn’t his favorite but it would be the one to keep him occupied for longer. Science or history or languages would be - hard. Not to learn, but to have to live with the knowledge that he couldn’t see them for himself. It wouldn’t matter how much he learned, how fluent he became, that wouldn’t unlock the cuff from his ankle or the padlock from the door. 

Maybe if he didn’t write anything for a visit or two and then asked it wouldn't be seen as greedy. 

Teddy worked a little longer before he heard the sounds of someone moving around again below him. He bit his lip, knowing that he had been quiet. The lock clattered and he scrambled for the bed. 

The latch opened and the ladder went down past where Teddy could see. Pressing himself against the flat side of the wall, comforter huddled around him as he peeked out from behind his knees. Sometimes, sometimes the man did just come up, but it was always nerve wracking. He had done what he was supposed to, so maybe it was just an extra visit? 

The man slowly appeared, smiling at him. “Hello there little mouse.” 

Teddy didn’t say anything, didn’t move as the Man came closer. He was older, salt and pepper in his hair and his beard. He was dressed nicely today, as if he had just come from work. 

“What have you been up to today?” He asked as he slowly sat on the bed, leaning forward a little to keep from hitting his head on the roof. Teddy wet his lips. 

“I, I made breakfast, and worked on some math.” 

The Man smiled and reached out to pet Teddy’s gray hair. “Good boy, look at you. Everything all cleaned up?” 

Teddy nodded, shivering from the touch. He didn’t like it, didn’t want it. “Yes, sir.” 

“Good.” The Man tapped Teddy’s nose lightly before reaching into this pocket to get something. “I don’t have much time today, but I remembered something that I’ve been neglecting. Hand.” 

He put out his hand expectantly, waiting for Teddy to extend his. Teddy froze and stared at him, unfamiliar with what was happening. The Man sighed. 

“I said I don’t have much time, son. It’s this or the coal shed.” 

I’m not your son, Teddy thought as he slowly gave his hand. The Man hummed for a moment and then produced the nail clippers that he had brought. Teddy nearly sighed in relief. He wasn’t allowed anything sharp, anything that could be used as a weapon or that could hurt him. 

“Still biting your nails, I see,” the man chastised as he clipped Teddy’s fingernails. Teddy didn’t answer, all of his energy focused on not yanking his hand away. He shifted how he was sitting and Teddy got spooked, moving his hand and causing the clippers to cut into the skin of his finger. 

“I told you to stay still,” the Man growled. No you didn’t! Teddy’s mind screamed, but he didn’t dare say that out loud. 

“S-sorry,” he muttered as the man finished with his pinky. Angrily, he shoved it down and roughly grabbed the boy’s other hand. 

“Sorry, Who?” he was grabbing Teddy’s wrist so tight he was afraid it might bruise. 

“Sir! Sorry, Sir.” 

The Man grunted and Teddy tried to keep his teeth from chattering. He finished without saying anything more, then stood and went to the kitchen. As he collected the trash on the other side of the wall, Teddy looked down at the bleeding place on his finger. He might have some bandaids, somewhere. When he looked up, the man was standing at the ladder with the bag in one hand and Teddy’s list in the other. 

Making direct eye contact, the man ripped the box off the bottom on the sheet and dropped it, not looking down as the slip with “colored pencils” written on it drifted to the floor. He stared at Teddy, expectantly. 

“Thank you, Sir,” he said softly, knowing he was always supposed to thank him when he took the list. He depended on that list, on the Man. He swallowed, eyes lowered, silently mourning the loss of the small luxury. 

The Man said nothing to him as he climbed down the ladder and locked it again. Teddy sighed, faintly wondering if it would be seven days or nine alone in the attic.

[sideblogformindtrash]

SUMMER OF WHUMP - DAY 4 - ABANDONED

Mind the huge cw. Is mostly just discussing it, but still.

CW: Insinuated no-con; past-abuse; relieving past trauma; abandonment; very low self esteem; humiliation; accidental triggering; bait dog; whipping; starvation; shoved in luggage bag; bitten by mice; gross food; claustrophobia; burns; no-con drugging; no-con touching; mentioned amputation; pet whump; multiple whumpers; human trafficking; muzzle; starvation; neglect; manhandling; cruel/intimate/neglectful whumpers;

“H-hello and welcome to BB’s and Pastel’s show!” ...Pastel turned the octopus plush around as BB turned the camera on. It went from a pink, smiley octopus, to it’s frowning gray insides. Pastel pulled the blankets over his head, leaving only his eyes out “...I’ll be your host, BB, and this is my assistant, Mr.Tonsils!”

BB lifts Mr.Tonsils in front of the camera, waiving his little furry paws so he can say hello to their audience. They pick up the camera, and take it to the bed with Pastel, capturing his pretty pink-ish eyes. 

“C-come on Pastel! Say hi!”

Pastel shifts slightly under the blanket.

“I’m… Not a fan of cameras, BB'' his voice is just a whisper, as he twists the blanket. BB thinks he is kneeling “...I’ll just… be your audience today, okay?”

“O-oH! Sorry!” BB stepped away. That was right. Pastel didn’t have good memories about that. BB pointed it away, making sure only they and Mr.Tonsils were on frame. Pastel seemed to relax, even sitting back and lowering his blanket cocoon “...So, due to technical issues, Pastel won’t be joining us tonight. But that 's okay. BB and Mr.Tonsils are here to entertain you!”

BB smiled, making sure to show the missing little teeth. Just like Blue. Just like Blue… before, at least. 

“...Well, for tonight’s show me and Mr.Tonsils prepared a top 15 review!” BB wasn’t sure if it really classified as such. But it sure sounded nice “BB will be going over all of our old homes!”

They noticed as Pastel frowned, suddenly changing their expression, way more alert. BB only felt more excited. If Pastel was paying attention, it clearly meant the topic of the video was interesting! Audiences would love it! Even… Even if this was never going to be aired. BB could picture the audiences!

...With a deep breath, they braced themselves and started. They had prepared for this. They could do it.

“...BB’s begun it’s life like us all, in b-between white walls and tiled floors of the training grounds. They were worthless and ugly and dumb, BB’s smile never charmed anyone! It took a long time in the store before BB got home. It was and old lady that said BB was so ugly that it hurt, and dumb as a door, but worked well enough to, to scrub her floor” BB smiled, remembering the cozy attic, where they made their first friends, among piles of boxes that compiled their first owner’s life. Long nights they spent alone there, digging through piles of pictures, trying to piece together what a human life was like. Nonsense, it was, because it just filled BB’s head with a lot of silly thoughts.  They lifted Mr.Tonsils for the camera “...BB worked the day and spent the night locked away. In the house’s attic, BB made their first friends. They were Mr.Tonsils crowd, a family of mice, and BB befriended them all, even if they’d bite BB’s feet while it was trying to sleep! BB loved the house, their first owner, and e-every single mouse!”

BB hugged Mr.Tonsil, swinging him around. Pastel was biting his lip, pulling a thread out of the blanket. Good! He was enjoying the story! And BB felt like they were doing good, too. Better than they did at any of their homes.

“...First owner got tired of BB because the stupid Pet let her cat flee! All BB wanted to do was help and clean, but the cat saw their chance and ran away. First owner took BB to a store with a mean looking clerk. They agreed BB was ‘So ugly it fucking hurt’, hoping BB would only stay a few days and them someone would want them” BB rubbed their hand together. That didn’t count as an owner, did it? It was only temporary, in nature. Not that owners lasted very long “BB was at the store for almost a full month, during which they got to eat, sleep and there was no work. BB wanted to make friends with other pets in cages, but they never stayed for long, after all - good pets get good homes!”

...BB was still upset about the store. All of those Pets had looked so nice, so much better than they are… And they never tried to talk to BB. They were all scared they’d be beaten down if they tried, but never were. BB was the only worthless one, that got the punishments… for everyone!

“...BB was bought by creepy looking guy who stuffed BB inside a cage and on a plane and was flown away” BB gestured with their hand, copying the movements of a plane. They had to be on the chair, so it would look nice on video, but otherwise, they would have liked to run around with their arms opened “...Creepy man named BB Bait. They were a teaser for a larger, angrier Pet named Spike, who had on BB a nice punching bag who couldn’t put up a fight. They were nice to BB and even a friend, but scary and cruel when the Master decided they needed to beat them. So BB was Spike’s chew toy, but when they were nice… BB was always filled with joy!”

...They closed their eyes for a second. Those two lives were merged together. One of them had been so short, they could barely remember the second dog.

“...After Spike got tired, BB was sold again, to be another dog's punchbag. And he was the third friend BB had! He refused to hurt BB, would even cuddle them to sleep, and then I was severly punished… For making the Master's dog weak. It was the first time BB tasted a whip, and with dark bruises on its face, BB was sold again”

...They stood in that second store for a week. With no food, and no sleep. They were dirty, and cheap, not worthy of caring for.

“The next Master had BB as furniture for his house. All he did was snap his fingers and that was BB’s call. It would crawl and hold things very still and keep his glass fill, he would rest his feet over BB. If it got boring the cane was always on hand, he could crack in on BB’s back and get it all shades of purple and black. BB didn’t sleep there much at all, it had to stand still behind his bed, all night long holding a water jar upon a tray, in a perfect 90° degree, or there was always hell to pay” BB touched their arm, absentmindedly, a small scar on their elbow where bone had poke through “But BB was ugly furniture, bad and broke away, when Master tried to sit over its back one sad summer day. BB tumbled to the side, knocking Master to the floor. BB got a broken arm and was kicked out of the door!”

“...The next Master that took me in was cruel and harsh, with unusual punishments that left some scars: fingers pulled back until they snapped, weights to BB’s feet, heavy chains and painful strains and the worst - the oven’s flame” BB tilted their head. That Master, too, had scars. They didn’t know how she had gotten them, it was not it’s place to ask. They… They were happy to leave that one “...BB was then lost in a card game, and doesn’t remember much at all. Pills made BB sweet and kind and small. What BB doesn’t get is that they never needed pills - they would never disobey, even if put through awful, lingering pain, they’d love Master all the same.”

...Hazy. Foggy memories. Hands over them, and brushing their cheeks, and so much drool because they were never cohesive enough to form words or move. Blinking white lights, whispered little things that returned to them in dreams.

“...When BB was sober again, they found themselves in a shed, where they were always so alone. The Master was a mountain who only came at night to beat BB down. The days went by slowly, loneliness crushing down, it was dark and cold and hungry, and there were spiders all around“ BB stopped their speech for a moment. This next part was something… that still haunted them. They had done… awful, awful things. They covered Mr.Tonsils' ears. They were afraid of what he would think “...BB, on that shed, made things it would rather forget. Just like the Master forgot BB had to fed! BB might have eaten a few of Tonsil's friends, please don’t let him know, is just BB’s stomach hurt so much and it was the only thing that could stop the growl”

BB releases Mr.Tonsil’s ears, hearing a gasp from Pastel. They turn and smile, but his face is… Pale, horrified. BB shrugs. Pastel always worries faaaar too much. Next one… Made BB feel nostalgic.

“Next… Was the trucker! He liked BB a whole lot, and let BB on the bed and the passenger’s seat! He and BB traveled a lot, seeing magic and beautiful places. BB spoke on the radio, and… And… Had a name! Was called Oreos...” They messed up their rhymes. This… This wasn’t how it was supposed to go “...BB was… Was happy then. His spouse didn’t like me, and… And behind his back, gave me away”

BB’s nails sunk on their arms, as they hug themselves. They… missed those days. It was good, good nostalgia, but what followed made them sick. They had just learned how big and beautiful the world was…

“Next Master… Stuffed BB into a bag, small and stinky with heavy leather smell, with no room to move at all, so much BB’s limbs collapsed when it was finally left out. It travelled around so much, but BB never got to see outside. It was let out during the night to be with Master, and shoved back on the bag once he was satisfied” BB shook their head, as if that would send the memories away. They hated it, hated that bag so, so much. Terrible, suffocating and endlessly boring and aching. And worse… that’s when they lost their name Oreos. They had loved that life. They truly had. “It didn’t matter much, BB was soon thrown away again. Unlovable and worthless, no one could stand BB for much longer either way. BB was sold and sold, always on their way. Next Master was confusing – gave BB many orders and functions, then beat BB down for following the instructions! They likes to trick BB, make plenty of cruel jokes, BB was just a dumb dog, one they only named Mutt!”

...They smiled then. The next one was also nice. His name was Wolfgang, but he was not a wolf. Not that BB could remember.

“And BB’s following owner sold stuff door to door! Saw BB – or Mutt then – and thought they were good charms! BB helped with the sales, being all cute and sweet, and Master was happy at first, but eventually… Sold me!”

And the next Master was…

BB shivered. This one… Hurt a lot. A whole fucking lot. It had been one of the longest lasting homes they had. It had changed the way they saw and thought of themselves forever. It was where they became BB. Bootleg Blue. Fake, useless, worthless.

“…Next was Owner Alvin, who BB loved so, so, so much. He said he would always care for BB… if BB could be someone else. BB had never ever been loved, and the feeling was so gentle and sweet! BB finally understood why no one else had loved it, and what it needed to do so that it would. Blue, a pet who had videos and fame, who had scars BB didn’t have… But I wanted to gain! BB left their teeth rot, BB scarred their own face, Master got angry – Bad BB, bad…” No, no, no. They couldn’t start to lament now. Not when they had gone so far on the video, already, and trough some of the hardest part “Alvin gave BB a room with a  plain white dresser, four pairs of clothes and double of socks! BB knew them all by heart and cherished them, BB loved Alvin, loved him, loved him so, so, so much. 

But …Alvin wanted BB to be Blue, but wouldn’t tolerate it when BB got the knife and tried to make the change. BB watched the videos on repeat, hundreds, thousands of hours on end, BB could cite them by head!

But BB wasn’t Blue, and can never be. BB is unworthy, and no one could love me. BB was shoved in a car and Owner broke his promise – he decided not to keep me, he, he, h-he… He, he…”

BB closes their eyes, bites back a sob. They are almost done now, and even if they completely messed up the last part…. they can push through! They can still make a nice video… Maybe the audience will like that they can be a little emotive?

“...Shoved BB in a car, drove them to a dead end. Left them alone on the streets to fend for themselves. BB stayed there alone and scared and sad, hoping someone would come… Or that somehow, their pain would end. And then Paul and Reina appeared, finding the ugly pet on the streets. Reina said BB did look like Blue! So she wanted, she wanted BB too!” BB smiled a little. Reina was pretty. She gave me good headpats… But BB didn’t miss them a lot. Paul wasn’t so nice “Paul knew BB was worthless, but Reina still wanted BB. BB was taken to their house and for a short span of time, BB was pampered, happy and loved, an illusion that didn’t last. They figured BB was fun to hurt and start to get their way – not that BB cared, loved them all the same”

They turned around for a second, smiling at Pastel. This was something they’d truly love to talk about, for once.

“But the best part was that BB made a friend when living at their place. Pastel was his name! Pastel held BB and told me it would be okay. BB didn’t have to be Blue – they loved me either way. Pastel took punishment and tried to keep Master’s away. BB cuddled them to sleep and they loved each other! They did!” 

BB smiled at this, hugging the plush. One drop of joy, as small as it had been. One that wasn’t stripped away. But the show hadn’t ended.

“…Alas we got back to IF. IF my desired owner, the true maker of Blue, the one who could make BB worthy of love… If he had wanted to. He shoved BB in a cage and tortured Pastel instead, and it was so, so awfully cruel!” BB shook their head, lamenting “But last and not least, Master Fairyman appeared! He took BB and Pastel to live with him! And he has been so nice so far, giving BB colored books! Lovely, nice and nice! And Pastel Is with me too, BB don’t know how long it will last, but BB is so, so to be here with you!”

BB finished, looking back at Pastel and drawing a heart in the air with their fingers. Pastel… is tearing up. He jumps from the bed, not minding the camera anymore, and hugs BB. BB melts, leaning onto the hug. Soft. Kind. Loved. 

“BB…” He finally speaks, still not letting them go  “Did… Did you rehearse this?”

“Many times in BB’s head!” BB smiled. Many, many, many times, all those years… “Did it come out nice?”

“Yeah…” Pastel rested his head on BB’s shoulder, hugging them tight “I love you, you know?”

BB smiled.

“I know”

tagging: @summer-of-whump@pinkraindropsfell

[is-that-another-soulmate-au]

Sun Touched Zuko AU!!

Tag list @chaoticidiott @mypureessence @fae-tales-personal

This won't be a soulmate AU but it will be Zukka for sure.

Zuko was born sick, so sick in fact that he was going to die. His mother prayed to Agni that he would live, prayed that the sun spirit would save her first born son. In the gardens she held him up to the Setting sun pleading. The suns rays caught in the amber stone on top of the alter set for worship and moved to Zuko's eyes. His hair changed from solid black to a golden blonde, he opened eyes and began to cry. He was touched by the Sun and lived.

Ursa couldnt have been more happy, her son was alive. "My little sunshine" she whispered with tears rolling down her cheeks as she held him close and rocked him in her arms.

When Ozai saw his son's golden hair he demanded that it be dyed black, but was willing to compromise when Ursa suggested they wait until he turns 5 so that the dyes don't harm him.

The first time they dyed his hair he asked his mom why, his bright molten eyes looking at her with confusion "because your father wants you to feel safer my sunshine, people will stare at you with that bright shining hair of yours"

"Oh, okay" was his only response that day. He never questioned it anymore when they touched up his roots weekly.

After his mother left him he felt alone in the world, his dad still staining his golden hair each week with more and more ink. All the while berating him when he couldnt control his fire well. Even with being touched by the spirit and having powerful fire he couldnt manage to control it, couldnt understand how to. Until master Piandou taught him swords and he applied his teachings to his fire.

The first time he used his swords to control the fire Piandou was more than impressed "Prince Zuko! That was amazing!"

"Thank you Master, thinking of the swords as an extension helped me control the flames better" his smile soon faded when his father appeared

"Yes, great work Zuko, I am pleased to see you have learned how to control your flames, however mixing these arts in this fashion is unacceptable. Come with me"

After that he wasn't allowed back at Piandou's unless he was accompanied by either his father, or an advisor to make sure he practiced correctly.

On the day of his fated Agni Kai Zuko had just gotten his roots retouched before entering the war meeting. When his father burnt him for speaking out of term his tears felt like lava running down his cheeks. He could smell the fresh dye burning and it hurt his lungs.

His Uncle immediately took him under his wing when he was banished "Zuko, my star," his Uncle pleaded when they were at the western airtemple "i need to dress your wound, the sun spirit would not want you to lose your eye"

Zuko reluctantly let his Uncle clean and dress his wound several times on their travels until it healed and scarred over. When it finally healed over Iroh smiled "there you go sunshine" he said as he wiped the tears forming in Zuko's good eye away "do not cry Prince Zuko, you are safe"

He still dyed his roots every week to uphold his place as prince. He did not know that his golden hair was his own symbol or royalty, that the sun chose him. Sure he knew the sun saved him, but he could not understand that it was because he was chosen.

When he arrived at the South pole and discovered the Avatar, he felt a breath of relief wash over him. He was going home, but he heavily underestimated the Avatar's abilities and lost him.

Soon he started a cat and mouse game with the monk and his two southern water tribe friends. After the northpole he slacked on dying his hair, not because he didnt want to, he simply didn't have the resources to do so. So his roots started to grow in gold.

"Well your looking golden Zuzu" Azula's voice startled Zuko when he walked into the hut they were staying in.

"Azula, what are you doing here" he glared at his younger sister

"You know, im my country. We greet one another before asking questions" she responded coldly "i was just passing through"

"To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit Princess Azula?" Iroh piped into the conversation

"No wonder you two click, always so quick and to the point. Father sent me, family is suddenly very important to him." She turned her head to look out the window "father regrets your banishment. He wants you home"

Zuko was frozen in place "father regrets?"

"I can see you need time to think this through, ill be by to collect you in the morning" Azula smiled softly before a flash of worry flashed on her face for a split second as she walked out the door.

When Azula's true intentions were revealed Zuko and Iroh managed to flee from her and her soldiers. When they stopped at the river to cut their hair Zuko looked at Iroh when he watched the inky hair fall into the river "your gold hair will conceal your identity fairly well my nephew"

"Yeah, it'll hide me pretty well" nobody had seen Zuko with his golden hair before. He hadnt seen his hair fully gold since age five.

On their travels his hair grew fairly fast now that it wasnt being dyed so often. It would catch the eye of several earth kindom citizens when he passed through towns. When he and Iroh were sitting against a building with a hat in front of them a young woman approached them and slipped a few gold pieces in "I know this might sound creepy, and I'm only asking this because I cannot resist. But may I kiss your hair sir? You can say no, I won't take my money back."

Zuko flushed a light shade of pink and scratched the back of his head "uhm, s-sure?" He mumbled out and leaned his head towards her. She placed a tender almost motherly kiss to the top of his head.

"Oh, your hair is so beautiful sir, it's like a million rays of sun. I wish you luck, i can only spare a little but if you'd take these small meals Im sure they'd help you" she said while offering two wrapped meals

They accepted and thanked her with small bows "what a nice young lady, huh?" Iroh said and nudged Zuko's arm

"Yeah, she was very nice"

When Zuko and Iroh found Azula and Aang battling in an abandoned earth town Azula pointed out his hair "wow Zuzu! You look just like a star! Where'd all that ink go?" When the fight ended and Iroh was injured Zukos cheeks felt like magma was pouring from his eyes.

"Zuko, I can hel-" Katara approached them

"LEAVE!" Zuko cried out, turning to Katara with golden tears running down his face.

While on the Ferry to Ba Sing Se Zuko was angry, not angry at anyone or anything in particular, he was just angry. "Hey" the voice of a man at his right side broke his brooding "names Jet"

"Lee" Zuko muttered out how cover name

"Yknow Lee, I hear the captain is eating like a king while we're stuck eating all his left overs" he paused "want to help me... liberate some food rations?"

It didn't take much to convince Zuko to join him. They liberated the food quickly without getting caught. Zuko found himself wandering the the front of the lower deck, leaning on the railing. "You know, as soon as I saw your scar, I knew exactly who you were" he paused as he approached Zuko "youre a refugee, like me. Thing is though, I've never seen hair like yours, let along your eyes."

Jet reached out and brushed Zuko's hair out of his face. "The freedom fighters could use a starlight like you, what do you say?"

Zuko smacked Jets hand away gently "thanks, but no thanks, you don't want me on your team, trust me"

In Ba Sing Se Iroh and Zuko made a life for themselves. They managed to have their own tea shop and apartment. Things were doing great, until Zuko went after the Avatar's bison, mind you he went there originally to take the bison captive, but when he saw that the creature was hurt he sheathed his swords and removed his mask, letting his golden hair free as he approached the bison "hey buddy, are you okay?" His voice was much softer than usual "oh no, here let me help you, this is going to hurt and I'm sorry, but I need to pull out this thorn" he talked to him the whole time he was pulling out thorns, gently rubbing the fur near it to sooth him.

When he pulled all of the thorns out he took out his swords "alright buddy, dont worry about the swords, im going to use them to cut you out of these chains, shhh its okay, you're okay" he continued to talk him through each of the six shackles "there we go big guy, now you need to get out of here, go find your friends- ah! Hey!" Appa knocked him over and gave him a thanks with a big sloppy dog like lick across his torso and face before taking off.

"You did well my nephew" Zuko shot up at his uncle's voice

"Uncle?" His startled voice wavered

"Now lets get you out of here and back home." And that they did.

When they made it back to their apartment Zuko felt dizzy, he held his head in his hand "I dont feel good" he managed to get out before collapsing and breaking a vase

"Zuko!" Iroh shouted as he rushed to his nephew to make sure he didnt hurt himself on any broken glass.

In his Angst coma Sokka heard his mother singing

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me Happy! When skies are grey. You'll never know dear, how much I love you, so please don't hide my sunshine away"

His sisters voice mocked his hair "youre hair makes you look like a dandelion, a weed can't take the throne!" Her cackling filled his ears.

There was a blinding light and a woman appeared with flowing gold hair and bright fire eyes "my dear star, why do you let yourself hurt so much?"

"I don't, who are you?"

"I'm Agni my dear, you do know I chose you right?"

"Why?"

"You are special my dear, your mother made sure to get my attention and I am so glad she did" the woman spoke as she placed her hand on his cheek. Filling him with the image of her reaching out to kiss his eyes as a baby. "You are meant for great things little star." Her voice faded as she herself did

He soon woke from his coma with a fresh breath. Taking charge in making sure his Uncle's tea shop did well, and helping him where he could. However Azula soon found them and summoned them to the palace under the guise of serving tea to the king. Things didnt end well and Zuko was thrown into a cave beneath the City with Katara.

"Why would they throw you in here!" Her angry and hurt voice filled his ears as he tried not to make her feel more uncomfortable by staying as far from her as possible.

when she mentioned her mother he turned around and spoke "thats something we have in common"

"What?"

"My mother was my only source of safety... she was the only one who defended me against my sister and my father. And one day my father was ordered to... do something terrible and my mother protected me somehow, I dont know what happened but when I was half awake she told me goodbye and when I fully woke up she was gone."

When they were separated and Azula had Iroh trapped she approached "Zuko, nows your chance to come home. Help me defeat the avatar and you can come home. Without inking your hair. Isnt this what you've always wanted? You'll have your honor back, you'll have fathers love back"

And despite all he had gone through he still chose the path of returning to his father. When he did return his father wanted to dye his hair but Azula spoke up against it "father, if I may. Zuko's hair is a symbol of the fire goddess Agni, if he were to take the thrown it'd be best to show that she has chosen him"

"Yes, that is true. Alright, off with you two"

Reuniting with Mai wasnt smooth, she confessed to him that her and Ty Lee connected and while he was saddened he just smiled "I'm glad you two are with eachother, you work well"

On the day of Black sun, with the information he had learned from Iroh and armed with the fact that his father was practically powerless without his bending. He approached him.

"Zuko, what are you doing here?"

"Im here to tell the truth"

Ozai let out a snort "telling the truth during an eclipse?" He waved off his gaurds "what do you have to say"

"First of all, Azula lied to you, she was the one who shot down the avatar"

"What?! Why would she lie about that?"

"Because the avatars not dead, he's probably leading this invasion right now"

"Get out! Get out if you know what's good for you!"

"Thats another thing, I'm not taking orders from you anymore"

"You will obey me or face the consequences!" As Ozai stood Zuko drew his dual swords and took a stance

"Think again. I am going to speak my mind and you are going to listen"

He went on to question his father "you knew Agni chose me as a child and that was the reason my hair turned gold. You knew this and yet you hid that from the world, you darkened my hair for years, and you have the gull to tell me I was lucky to be born. You! The tyrannical leader set out to destroy the world. you! My own father challenged me to an Agni Kai just for speaking out of term, how could you possibly justify a duel with a child!"

"It was to teach you respect!"

"It was cruel and it was wrong"

"Then you have learned nothing!"

"No! I've learned everything, and I've had to do most of it on my own" he paused "Growing up we were taught that the war was our nations way of spread joy, what an incredible lie that was, the other nations don't love us, they fear us, and they are right to fear us, we've brought the world to an era of hate and suffering, now we need to fill it with one of peace and joy"

"Your uncle has gotten to you hasnt he" Ozai laughed

"Yes, he has, and I've come to another decision, im going to join the avatar, and im going to help him take you down."

After announcing this he turned to leave but stayed to learn about what happened to his mother

"She's alive?" He said in a soft voice as a single golden tear rolled down his cheek

"Perhaps," Ozai paused "now i see that banishment is far too small of a punishment for treason" he said as he gathered lightning and shot it at Zuko who quickly redirected it right back at him before escaping.

After finding that Iroh had broken out of prison Zuko fled the firenation in a small war ballon and followed the Avatar's Sky bison to the western air temples. Their first encounter didn't go so well and he managed to burn Toph's feet but after helping them defeat the assassin and managing to form his words more properly and giving a genuine apology to Toph he was on the team.

Some time after joining and managing to break Sokka's dad, Suki and Chit Sang out of prison they were all sitting around the fire. "So.. uhm Zuko" Aang started

Zuko turned to look at him "yeah?"

"I have to ask, pretty bunch nobody in the firenation has golden blonde hair right?" Zuko absentmindedly ran his fingers through his hair at the question

"Yeah, and when you were first chasing us your hair was black, whats up with that?" Sokka added

"Oh, uh, well my hair was always dyed black because my father doesn't like my gold hair..." he paused "when I was born, I was sick, so sick that my parents thought I was going to die. But my mother pleaded with Agni to spare me, she took me to the sun worship alter in the palace gardens at sunset and held me up, pleading. When the last ray of light from Agni, my hair turned golden and I began to cry. So, in a sense the sun gave me my life"

"Like Yue!" Sokka piped up

"Like who?"

"Princess Yue! She was born sick just like you, and the moon spirit saved her. Well, she's the moon spirit now"

"Woah woah wait, is this the girlfriend you said turned into the moon?"

"Yep!"

"Well, just don't go falling for Zuko now, dont want to have your first boyfriend turn into the sun" Suki teased him

"Hey, at least I'd have a full set of spirit lovers"

Zuko's face turned beet red and the group laughed at him. Over the next few weeks of them being in close quarters Zuko found that he was growing feelings for the water tribe boy. Anytime he'd look at him he felt his stomach do a flip. But he didnt have time to think about his feelings.

Even though the sun touched prince tried not to think about Sokka on the mission with Katara, he couldn't help it. When they were returning Katara piped up "I know you like him" she paused to watch his surprised face "its okay you know, its fine if you like him. I dont have like you to let my brother like you. I may be cold to you but im not a monster like your father" she tied off the sentence by staring off "and besides, if Agni chose you, I think you would be safe for Sokka"

When they got back he heard sokka shout "You're back! Thank La youre safe!" Turning to Katara he expected to see Sokka running to hug his sister. Instead he was tackled to the ground with a hug from Sokka "how did it go Katara?" He asked from the ground while quite literally snuggling into Zuko with this hug that was still very much happening.

"I found him, and he was just so pathetic, i couldnt kill him"

Sokka then stood up and helped Zuko to his feet and placed a quick sneaky kiss to his cheek before moving to hug his sister, leaving Zuko frozen in confusion. He remained frozen until Suki came up to him "he's trying to confess silently, he's weird like that, corner him later if you want to hear an actual confession"

He however didn't manage to corner the now seemingly overly flirty blue boy until they were at ember Island. It wasnt until just before bed when Sokka was walking past Zuko's bedroom door. He reached out grabbed Sokka's shirt and yanked him into the room before slamming the door shut and pinning him to it. "What are you doing?"

"Wh-what do you mean? You're the one who dragged me into your room, what are you doing?"

"Dont play dumb with me Sokka, you've been flirting with me since I got back from my trip with your sist-"

"Actually ive been flirting with you since the temples, you just didn't notice until I kissed you"

"You mean until you missed"

"What?"

Zuko smirked "you missed" he mumbled before leaning closer "you went for a kiss but you missed"

They ended up spending the night sharing a room and a bed. When the morning sun peaked through the windows Zuko curled back into sokka who in turn pulled him closer. Both refusing to wake up until Katara knocked on the door and opened it "breakfast is ready, if you two love birds want some warm food you better hury and I better not see any hickeys"

"Ugh! Katara we just cuddled!" Sokka said as he burried his face in Zuko's hair.

Katara simply laughed "alright, but still, hury up."

When the day of the comet came and Zuko had to separate from Sokka he saw the worry in his blue eyes "Ive got this Sokka, Agnj chose me remembe, besides, I've got Katara with me and she's powerful" he placed a quick kiss to Sokka's lips "go take down those ships, and I'll see you by the timd the sun rises tomorrow."

And he was right, even though he was shot with lightning and Sokka broke his leg they both came out of the battle alive and together. When Zuko woke up to find Sokka curled up against him he smiled and let out a soft breath of pink fire. Relief.

"Woah, do that again" Sokka's groggy 'just woke up' voice rumbled against his shoulder

"Sorry I didn't mean to wake you, do you mean this?" He let out another breath of fire, this time a pale purple

"I didn't know you could do other colors of fire"

"Well, I couldn't until I went to the sunwarriors, Agni spoke to me there"

After Zuko's Coronation the firenation began righting their wrongs. It was a long struggle for sure. However two years into his reign with Sokka having practically moved in he found that he would soon have a partner to help him through these struggles.

The day had only just begun but Sokka was dragging Zuko to the turtleduck pond where they often sat together to simply relax. Sokka seemed a little antsy this time though "what's wrong Sokka?"

"Uhm, well, I have something I need to ask you," he paused and reached into his pocket while sinkning down to one knee. Zuko's breath caught in his throat as he saw Sokka pull out a betrothal becklace, the band was made with a fine red silk and the center piece was gold with a carving of a sun with a wave inside of it. "Zuko," he took a shaky breath "you've been by my side for two years now, you've held my hand through war and peace, quite literally, and you've done so while loving me whole heartedly. I can't imagine my life without you in it." Zuko could feel golden tears threatening to fall fram his molten eyes "Zuko, will you marry me?"

"Yes!" He heard himself responding before he could even think "Agni, yes Sokka, of course I'll marry you!"

Sokka moved from his kneeling position to lifting Zuko up into a kiss, holding him right under his rear. Zuko held his face in his hands as he pressed his lips to Sokka's as he was lifted up quite unceremoniously.

Once he was set down Sokka helped him put on the betrothal necklace. He reached up to touch the Golden pendant and smiled up at Sokka with gold tears falling down his cheeks.

Their marraige was held not long after, joining the southern water tribe and the firenation in a strong Union with a mixed culture wedding blues, silvers, reds and golds filled the wedding and reception as well as suns and moons.

Agni smiled down on the wedding that day, her chosen sunshine found his moon.

Yue smiled on them that night as they stood on the balcony holding one another. The boy who protected her finally found his light.

>Woo boy that was a long one! I sure hope you enjoyed it!<