#you may recognize it from my banner

[insomniiuh]

unposted noodle doodle

[the-boy-meets-evil]

building blocks | yjh (teaser)

(agreeing to be the teaching assistant is the last thing you want in a semester where you're already swamped with work. but, you need a letter of recommendation from the professor and you're out of other options. enter jeonghan, the menace who signs up for the class seemingly on a whim and disrupts your entire routine.)

pairing: master's student!jeonghan x TA!f!reader genre: university!au, strangers to ?? | fluff, some angst, smut rating: explicit, minors DNI (for the full fic) word count: 842 for the teaser (est. 12-14k) warnings: none for the teaser (full fic: smut, drinking, eating, etc.) full fic: september 13th!

a/n: i wanted to drop a teaser of my fic for the TA collab hosted by the amazing @camandemstudios. those two have been working so hard on this and i can't wait to read all the fics. but go easy on me because i know next to nothing about structural engineering. credit to @caelesjjk for this banner, it's so amazing 🥰

join my taglist here or leave a comment to be tagged in the full fic!

Your entire academic (and professional, for that matter) career has been a battle. A fight to be taken seriously. A fight to get the right classes. A fight to make the right connections. A fight for every inch that you’ve gotten. There are times that you wonder if it’s all worth it, wonder if anything should be as hard as this. But, all you’ve ever wanted was to be an engineer. To be able to leave your mark in some sort of meaningful way, even if that’s also a little conceited. It’s all you want and you’re so close to getting some much needed room to breathe. 

Except…

You have to make it through one last semester of this damn Master’s program. You had been able to find a sponsor to allow you to commit to a final semester full time, with only part time research work. That’ll put you in a good position to carry on for your Ph.D, with your dissertation topic already picked and funded. Things had been going entirely too smoothly, in hindsight. You should have known. Everything about your application to the upcoming program is perfect. Except for the final recommendation. And, of course, the professor to give that recommendation won’t just give it to you to recognize the years you’ve put into this. No. He implies that there’s something he needs from you.

Nothing really awful, in the grand scheme of things. Not for someone that does want to return as a lecturer at some point down the road. It’s just that you didn’t really want to be forced into a teaching assistant position for Professor Choi’s introductory structural engineering course. It’s the course that weeds out who’s actually going to carry on with the civil engineer branch of the Master’s program from those who may switch out to something that better suits them. Which, again, isn’t a huge deal, except that you remember how burnt out the TA looked from when you took the course and it’s the last thing you need during your last semester. It’s also hard to know that some portion of your future hinges on doing this. It’s also hard to forget another friend of yours admitting Professor Choi had given him a recommendation without the hoops.

Whatever.

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger and all that. 

So you schedule your regular meetings with the professor, make a separate email folder for all course related communication, jot down the important dates, and figure out which lessons you have to help plan. First up is going to be the introductory class. Professor Choi comes in and introduces himself while you distribute the syllabus, an odd task when everything is available online through the portal, but he likes things in hard copy. Once he’s done his introduction, he leaves the rest of the first class to you, as he had with the TA in your course during your first semester. For a moment, you consider pointing out that this is a Master’s level course and you don’t really need to do the typical introductions. Most of these people have busy lives and, even though they’ll have to work together on projects, can manage without syllabus week. But, Choi is old school and you know it. You also need his letter, so what’s the point in trying to change his system? You’re not here to do anything other than fill a spot that he was having trouble filling, get your letter, and go. 

When you scan the roster before the first day, nobody particularly sticks out. There are a couple of relatively familiar names, though you’re not sure you can place faces to them, but most of the students seem to be in their first semester of the program. It only takes getting to the introductions for someone in the course to stick out.

“Well, I’ve always been good at building Legos. I figure, how different can it really be?” one student answers.

It takes everything in you to school your face back into a politely interested expression when the rest of the class bursts out laughing. Your initial reaction had been incredulity. Surely he couldn’t be serious. There’s no way someone just wandered into this program because he liked building Legos. The laughter from the rest of the class dies down and you keep your attention on him.

“Why did you really join the program?” you ask. That’s what every student was supposed to be sharing. A problem for this student, apparently.

“That is why I joined,” he says with an infuriating smirk. 

“What did you say your name was?” you ask.

“Jeonghan,” he answers without anything else.

You consult the roster in front of you and put a star by his name. This is someone you know you’re going to have to keep an eye on. 

“Did I get a star already?” he prompts, earning another few chuckles from his classmates.

“Something like that,” you say and then turn to the person next to him. “And why did you join?”

i hope you enjoyed it! and less than a week til the full fic is posted 🫣

taglist: @newjihoonie, @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizon, @klecksstorys, @sunflowergyeomie, @gyuminusone, @aaniag, @straykidswhoo789, @kimseokgen, @beomesbabe, @haolistic, @vanishingboots, @babybae-shisui, @harry-the-pottypus, @okiedokrie-main, @nuttywastelandmentality, @writingbarnes, @gyuhao365, @jjin-kun, @divinityyy, @dibidibidismynameisleeknow, @jelly-n (strikethrough means can't tag)

[ghostboneswrites2]

Safer

Summary: After the fall of the prison and a brutal assault, Daryl cares for you.

NOTE (please read): A mutual requested this a while ago. Took a long while to write, and tbh I considered turning the req down given the premise and my firm stance on writing graphic SA which you can find here. However, they explained to me that they are a victim of a violent s*xual assault, and they expressed it would be healing in a way to have a story where they were cared for by their comfort character. After some consideration, I decided to go for it. I'm sure a lot of us have been victimized by people who couldn't control their urges, or those who lacked respect for our boundaries, bodies, and consent. Myself included. So, this story is for us, to those of us that can stomach it. 

DISCLAIMER: There are no scenes of graphic SA, only the aftermath. While I will not be telling any descriptive scenarios of being assaulted, I do want to clearly express that this is a generally heavy story and it may not be suitable for all audiences. Please consume responsibly.

**I will not be tagging anyone on the taglist due to the content of this story**

18+MDNI ||  WARNINGS: non-graphic allusions to SA, violence, mild nudity descriptions, generally heavy content so I can't say it enough: TW!!!

Banners credited on my masterlist!!

        Daryl's vision was blurred as he blinked himself to consciousness. It took him some time to gather his thoughts and recognize his surroundings. His wrists and ankles were bound together, his mouth gagged with a cloth that tasted of sweat and filth. He stared up at the treetops towering over him. It was dark outside, save for the dim light of a dying campfire a few feet away. He lifted his head from the forest floor and looked down past his feet. Lumps of sleeping bodies under raggedy blankets and torn sleeping bags rested around him. His heart raced as his memories crept back in; of you, screaming his name, of him fighting off the group of men who caught him off guard, of twigs snapping and a searing pain over the side of his head. Was that why his face felt so sticky? Was it dried blood?

        His eyes strained in the fading light of ember and ash. Where were you? He noticed a crumpled form at the foot of a tree. Her breathing was shallow and her clothes were torn, pants not even pulled up over her bare behind. That much, he could see. His throat tightened. His eyes watered. What the hell had he let them do to you? How could he have let this happen? He had to get you out of there, and fast. If they hadn't killed him yet, that was surely on their agenda.

        He began to squirm and writhe against his restraints. Whoever tied him up had experience. Just as hopelessness began to set in and cloud his judgement with fear -- real, genuine fear -- he noticed a reflection in the leaves. Just a few feet past his boots, a man was curled up on his side, snoring lightly in the calm breeze. His back was turned to Daryl, and behind him set a grungy backpack with a blade sticking out of the smallest pocket in the front. He glanced back  to you, shivering on the ground, unsure if you were awake or unconscious or simply passed out from the exhaustion of prior events. 

        The sight of you in your disheveled mess was all her needed to kick him into gear. Carefully and hastily, he scooted himself down toward his only chance at redeeming his status as a loyal protector of the weak and vulnerable. Ideally, he'd be able to accomplish this in silence, but he was not in an ideal situation. His circumstances were heavy, laced in sweat and angst. The leaves beneath him rustled as his back slid across the ground, twigs snapping or moving to the side as he made his way closer to the large hunting knife. He'd pause between each scoot, studying the sleeping men around him for any sign of movement or wakefulness. When he'd decide the coast was clear enough, he'd resume. It felt like an eternity, but he made it there. 

        His core muscles strained as he sat himself up. He realized how sore he was. He must have taken a good beating. Seemed fitting, though. He was never one to go down without a fight. He left that sort of weakness in his past.

        He guided his shaky, bound hands over to the bag. He slowly slid the knife out of the front pocket. His heart raged against his ribs. He didn't dare take a single breath until it was secured. 

        Slow. Slowness. Slowly. He repeated every variation of the word in his mind as he positioned the knife between his palms and dragged it back and forth until the rope finally severed. A silent breath of relief escaped him as he ripped the gag from his lips and worked on the rope tied around his ankles. When he was free, he stood and counted the sleeping bodies beneath him. Excluding you, there were four. 

        He considered waking you up and running for the hills, but he couldn't leave any loose ends. No, he thought of it like when your t-shirt has a loose thread. You could leave it to keep unraveling, or you could burn it at  the base and extend the lifetime of your clothes. He decided he needed to burn this string before it could unravel any further.

        Starting with the man closest to him -- the one who so graciously left his knife in plain sight for the archer -- he krept over and crouched down, plunching the blade into the base of his skull. Then, he moved on to the next, and the next one, and the one after that, until they were all a problem of the past. Until that pesky little thread could do no further damage to the rest of the shirt.       

        When the dirty work was behind him, he dropped the knife and rushed over to you. Your wrists were tied like his, but you were tied to the tree so you couldn't run. He eyed you over and gulped. With your pants not fully covering you and your shirt all ripped up, he could see the finger-shaped bruises littering your skin. There was blood on your inner thighs. Your lips were swollen and cut. His blood heated until it hit a boiling point. His hands trembled as they hovered over you. Touching you  felt like a crime, but he had to wake you. He had to get you out of there.

        "(Y/N)." He whispered as he laid a hand on your shoulder. You were shivering in the cool air, but a thin layer of sweat blanketed your exposed flesh. He gave you a gentle shake. "((Y/N), c'mon. We gotta go." He pleaded softly.        

        Your body jerked and you jolted awake. You gave him no chance to explain as you scrambled to your knees and cowered away against the tree. 

        "(Y/N) it's me. It's Daryl." He attempted his most soothing tone of voice. "C'mon, let me get ya cleaned up."        

        He outstretched his arm, offering you his  hand. Without making eye contact you made a move to take it, but you were stopped by the restricting force of the rope that kept you anchored to the tree trunk. He moved quickly for the knife he tossed to the side earlier and returned with it. Without the pressure of remaining silent, he had your hands free in seconds.

        He wasted no time helping you to your feet and averting his gaze as he slid your pants up where they belonged. He found he had a hard time keeping his mind straight and focused as your weeping filled the quiet campsite. 

        "Shh.." He cooed, keeping one hand on your upper back as he ushered you along with him to gather his things and yours. A smart man would have rummaged through the belongings of the ones he killed, too, but he wasn't concerned with making a smart call at that point. He was only worried about you.

        "It's alright. C'mon. Let's get ya somewhere you can rest. It's alright. C'mon." He felt useless as ever, repeating the same generic words of comfort as you limped along beside him. He never urged you to up the pace, he didn't drag you along or have you carry your own bag. He felt like the least he could do was shoulder the weight of survival on behalf of you both. He couldn't get the image out of his mind of ou laying there,caked in blood, sweat, and bruises. A girl like you should have been caked in perfume and makeup. You hair should have been done up nice for a Sunday brunch, not matted with leaves and dirt. Your clothes should have been pristine and well fitting, unlike the filthy torn clothes that were beginning to hang off your frame like tender meat falling from the bone. You didn't deserve this. You didn't deserve any of it.

        Eventually he found an acceptable spot that looked like it could have been a den for a hibernating bear. It was a big shrub by a little stream, perfectly indented to give you both enough room to crouch under its foliage. He gently set you down, dropping his bow and your bags beside him. He crouched down in front of you and scanned you, worry written articulately over his features. 

        Your eyes remained glued to the ground. Your nose was upturned in disgust but your eyes told a different story; one of pain and despair and mourning for the person you were before that night. Your frown was deep enough to leave a scar. 

        "(Y/N)..." He breathed. Your eyes slowly found their way to his and welled with tears all over again. Of all things you had -- meaning, being alive and away from those men -- there was nothing you were more grateful for than his blue eyes staring back at you. You hated the way he looked at you with defeat and pity, though. You hated that he had one more thing to worry about. Still, he was there, and he was welcome. "Let's get ya cleaned up, okay?"

        You nodded once, if absentmindedly. Your thoughts were elsewhere. You couldn't pinpoint their location, though. They were scrambled, swarming all around you, like gnats you couldn't swat away.

        He pulled an old shirt from his bag and leaned over to the stream, getting it nice and wet before wringing it out. He turned back to you and brought it up to your cheek, gently dabbing and swiping away at the dirt, grime, sweat, and blood. He moved on to your neck and hands, then he paused. You both looked down at your jeans. You knew it needed to be taken care of, and he did too, but the question was really about which one of you would be brave enough to work on the gruesome scene between your legs.

        One look at your expression and he knew it couldn't be you. But, how could it be him? He couldn't put you in such a vulnerable position. No, not him.

        That's when the lightbulb went off over his head. The stream, of course.

        "Here." He offered you a hand. You took it slowly and he led you to your feet. "Wanna get in the water?" He asked. You stared down at the serene flowing water, trickling just before your feet. He cleared his throat. "I don't gotta look."

        You almost could have laughed. After everything that had happened, Daryl seeing you bathe wasn't really a concern. Still, you had to maintain some shred of dignity, and washing those men off of you was a much needed stride toward leaving that horrid night in your past. So, you nodded, and he turned away to start a fire where you could warm up after rinsing off.

        The button was busted off of your jeans. You guessed they couldn't waste their time with something as simple as undoing a button. You let out a shaky sigh and gritted your teeth. You moved to bend over and slide your jeans down, but a searing pain shot through your insides. You whimpered. "I can't." You barely managed.

        "Huh?" He asked over his shoulder.

        "I can't." You spoke up with a tremble. "I can't get them off. It hurts."

        His throat tightened up. Had they really been so cruel to you?

        "Ya want me to..." He trailed off.

        "Please." You whispered and shut your eyes. He stood beside you and pulled your pants down to your ankles, kneeling down as he did so.

        "Grab my shoulder." He instructed softly. You did. "Left leg." He said. You pulled it out. "Now the right." 

        With your jeans off, he stood up and looked down at your face, which you his from him, avoiding his gaze. 

        "Your -- Uh.." He glanced down at your underwear. You nodded, not needing to see what he meant. He followed the same process with those and turned away as soon as he was done. You cleared your throat. 

        "Can you help me sit?" You whispered. He sucked in a breath. It wasn't that you were annoying him. Anything but that, actually. He was glad to help you in any way you needed. It was the simple fact that you needed the help that was eating him alive. The thought that those guys could hurt you in this way, to this extent, was infuriating and heartbreaking. 

        He turned back to you and hovered behind you, placing a hand under each arm to support you while you lowered yourself down into the water. Once you were sitting on the creek bed, you adjusted yourself and sighed.

        "Just, uh, watch for snakes, okay?" Was all he could say before turning his attention back to the fire finally.

        Your frown deepened as you stared down at your bloodied thighs. A plop beside you startled you before realizing it was just the old shirt he was using to clean you up.

        "Figured ya might need it." He mumbled.

        You gripped the cloth in your hand and stared at it. Blood and filth stained it. Your lip quivered as you ran it over your inner thighs, scrubbing your own dried blood away and watching it disappear in the gentle current. You hissed and winced as you cleaned yourself where you were really injured. 

        When you were done, you peered over your shoulder, where Daryl stared at the small flame. He felt your eyes on him and he looked up at you. 

        "Need some clothes?" He asked.

        "Please." You replied. He nodded once and rummaged through your bag. He could only find a semi-clean shirt, but no more pants. He pulled his own bag forward and searched for the new two-pack of boxers he'd scavenged awhile back. 

        "I, uh, didn't see no more pants, but... You can have those." He said, holding your shirt and the fresh boxers out to you.

        "Thanks." You pressed your lips into a thin attempt at a friendly smile. 

        He turned away again so you could change your shirt, but you needed his help with the boxers, which he did without you needing to ask, and without a single peek at you.

        He helped you back over to the den where you could warm up by the fire. You kept the blanket in your bag, so he made sure to wrap it around your shoulders while you sat.

        "Ain't got no food." He broke the silence after a little while. You nodded.

        "Not hungry anyways." 

        "Mm." He hummed. "Get some sleep. I'll keep watch."

----

        By midday, you were on the move again, trailing right behind him as he stomped slowly over the underbrush so you could keep his pace. He'd stop every now and then, and though he didn't say it, you knew it was because he didn't want to overwork you. 

        By late afternoon, the sun was on the far end of the sky, casting an orange glow over the woods. 

        Daryl had barely been able to look at you, and you couldn't exactly claim any different. You two had taken a break again, sipping water and scanning around for any game or edible plants.

        "I want ya to know.." He cleared his throat, shattering the thick silence that glazed over you both all day. "I want ya to know I didn't see it. None of it."

        "I know you weren't looking." You deadpanned.

        "Nah, not at the stream. I meant -- I didn't see none of it." He clarified. He had a sneaking suspicion the reason you couldn't bare to look at him might have been the possibility of him seeing what had happened to you. He, however, just hated seeing you look so broken, knowing had he been more vigilant yesterday, none of those guys would have been able to sneak up on him. You looked at him finally.

        "I know. They hit you over the head 'cause you were fighting them."

        "Mm." He nodded. "I just... I need to tell ya I'm sorry." His voice cracked as he looked down at his hands and back up to you. His leg was bouncing anxiously and his gums must have bled from how hard he chewed at them.

        "Why?" You pushed your eyebrows together.

        "I shoulda been lookin' out. Shoulda protected ya. Shoulda--"

        "You were. You have been." You cut him off. "You've looked out for me every day since the prison. You've been protecting me since the quarry. You protect everyone. That wasn't your fault." You insisted. He just looked back down at his hands and sniffled, blinking back tears. He scolded himself for being the one to cry, when you were the one who got hurt. "Hey." You pressed on. "Listen to me. You got us out of there. You took care of them. You saved me. Then, you still took care of me. If we were still back there, they would have killed you and robbed you by now. And, if they hadn't killed me yet, I'd be wishing I was dead. I wouldn't be here without you. I would have never survived even before last night without you, and I wouldn't be sitting here telling you that today if it weren't for you."

        He looked you in the eyes as you spoke every word. It was a great relief to him that you weren't angry with him -- that you didn't blame him. Still, he felt so uneasy.

        "Can we camp here?" You asked suddenly. He shrugged.

        "Yeah. We can." He agreed. His voice was still broken.

        "Can I sit with you?" You asked. He looked confused but he still nodded, even if he was unsure what you meant.

        Ignoring the aches all over your body, you crawled over to him and sat in front of him, between his legs, leaning your back against his torso. He was stiff, unused to being so close to someone, but he didn't resist. As you settled in and got comfortable, he rested his arms by your sides.

        "You didn't fail me, Daryl. Nobody makes me feel safer."

Join the taglist || Masterlist

[nocturnalfandomartist]

✨️ TP Zelda doodles! ✨️

I love treating fictional characters like dress-up dolls. Each of Zelda's outfits here has a subtle nod to the Light Spirits in the pattern (and some other versions of Zelda). You may recognize the dusk-colored dress from when I drew this Zelda for the Zelda Creators banner a few months ago! I also gave her very faint Puppet Zelda scars in two of them. These designs will also be used for @meet-again-in-another-life when I'm able to post more for it. Close-ups under the cut!

you've been hit by TP Zelink propaganda. also i'm generally pretty happy with how Link turned out!! except for the fancy outfit doodle why did I think drawing first person POV was okay I literally never do that. also also should I change the background color?

Time Elapsed: 8 hours, 39 minutes

Program Used: IbisPaint

why did this take so long they're literally just doodles. anyway im gonna start doing commissions for pages like this very soon on my ko-fi, keep an eye out

REBLOGGING IS ENCOURAGED, BUT DO NOT REPOST.

[ldysmfrst]

American Mate (9) - Shadows of the Past (M)

Paring: Hybrid!BTS Ot7 x Plus-sized Human FemReader

Status: Ongoing series

Chapter number: 9 of unknown

Word count for Chapter: 10,612

Work count for Story: 53,505

Genre: Hybrid Playmate Au inspired by works created by @yoongiofmine

A little about the author: I am a mother of two beautiful children, one of whom has special needs and the other loves everyone. I currently am not working because of a broken foot. I started a Patreon, and I would be grateful if you donated to help me make ends meet while I am out of work.

Warnings: (I am not good at this, but I will try. Let me know if I missed anything!!) NOT BETA READ!! This story will have a bit of angst, fluff, smut, f/m, m/m, and m/f/m. This chapter does have pack dynamics, comfort, Alpha Space, Luna vibes, close proximity, multiple scenting, M/M mature scenes, good boy, and feisty Beta vibes.

SIDE NOTE: This is my first time writing second-base smut into a story. 💜💜💜

This chapter has a mature scene between BTS members. If you want to avoid this scene, at the start and end of the spicy part of the scene, the following banner will be displayed:

BTS HYBRID ANIMAL TYPES: Seokjin - Roan Ferret, Yoongi - Black Jaguar, Hoseok - Marten, Namjoon - Alaskan Timber Wolf, Jimin - Red Panda, Taehyung - White Southwest African Tiger, Jungkook - Flemish Giant Rabbit

AMERICAN MATE MASTER LIST / LDYSMFRST MASTER LIST

“Genevie Rose Elisey.” You growl out her name, step forward, and pull out of Yoongi’s tail. All eyes snap to you—well, all eyes except the little omega, who drops her eyes and scrunches her nose at the twist of your scent. 

You stalk forward and grip the back of her neck as if she were a kitten, scruffing her. Your scent has gone from sweet pea to something akin to lemons, almost acidic. The change in scent alerts your pack that you are not playing around.

However, the scent and display of Dominance causes a mix of reactions from the Alphas. Everyone here would be remiss in not recognizing who is currently in charge, and that does something to them.

Namjoon and the rest have seen you upset, but this… this is something else. While he is concerned for the Omega, not knowing what she had done to result in this type of reaction from you, he cannot pull his eyes away from how you hold yourself. It’s like you are taller and more assertive. 

Yoongi’s Alpha slams to the forefront when he sees you scruff the Omega. The feline mothering behaviors pull deeply at the primal aspect of the jaguar hybrid. His mind runs with thoughts of you scruffing cubs, but not just any cubs, his cubs. Shaking his head, Yoongi does his best to clear his mind and stay in the present; you are not his—yet.

Jimin is just lost. He has spent the least amount of time with you out of the pack. He has mostly been observing you and your interactions with his already-bonded mates. This Dominant, in-charge side of you is new and instinctively intriguing.

“Luna, I only meant to ensure they understood,” Evie says softly, trying not to offend you further. When the hybrid pack title is used, the three Alphas exchange glances of shock before settling their sights on you.

“It is not your place to remind others of something that happened when you were not present. In private, between our pack members, you can defend, rant, rave, and threaten all you want to,” you look to Derek.

“Both of you have always been able to protect the pack in emergencies and express yourselves freely in the pack house. However, I feel that you both may have lost where the line of respect is when it comes to individuals outside of the pack who hold importance. You both realize that these three Alphas hold the key to my survival?”

“Luna, we do. Honest, we meant only to support our pack and defend you, our Luna, in your territory.” Derek says, bearing more of his neck in submission as the acidic smell consumes your sweetness.

Gesturing to the Alphas in the room, “If any of these three or their mates are offended…”

“One word,” your voice drops deep and gravelly.  “One word is all it takes from either one of you, from me, and your Luna would be without a job, a home. Then where would we be?”

Once your words are spoken, it takes a breath for both family pack members to shrink farther down in submission. Neither one had considered that you could be fired for something they did or didn’t do.

That is why you are the pack’s Luna. While your Beta and Omega have to deal with customers or clients that are Alphas, they only have to deal with them in short amounts of time. 

Your contract with the Bantang Pack was not going to be short. Realizing that they need to treat the other pack as a pack, not a customer, dawns on them. 

More than ever, Derek wishes he understood why the Bantang Pack took this path with you rather than the typical courting method. Maybe one day, he can find out.

“You will not threaten Alpha guests or ANY guest in our pack house. I know you are protective of me, both of you are, but I am an adult and the Luna of this pack,” you move closer to the munchkin hybrid. 

“Thank you for your kind, yet oversharing words, Omega. But you need to apologize to them for planning to neuter them.” 

“Luna Y/n,” Jimin calls your attention quickly. The sound of him using your family pack titles pulls at something profound and instinctual within you.

“I think Your Omega is right, Luna,” says Jimin softly. “I think she is right about a few things.”

He pauses to collect his thoughts, which are running everywhere now that he has watched your eyes darken as you correct the misstep of your pack member and dilate at the use of the Luna title. 

His Alpha coming forward for the first time since he has been in your presence. He is watching you closely and is keenly interested.

“Respectfully, Luna, we are starting a mile behind because we never saw you coming. Not everyone in Bangtan Pack has connected to our Miss y/n in the same way, which is no one's fault. It means that some of us, mainly myself, have a lot more than a mile to get things right.”

“Jimin, you really...” You are cut off when Jimin gently takes your free hand and pulls you towards him. Dropping the scruff on the munchkin hybrid, she backs away and curls into the beta.

“Let me finish, Luna, please.” You nod, breath caught in your throat. “This whole situation, mates– playmates, came in an odd way, and we really should do things right by you.”

Taking your other hand, he says, “I want to do things right by you. I want to do the right things with you. I know you can’t smell our scents, but we meant what we said last night.”

“We all want to do things right by you, Princess,” says Yoongi.

“Miss Y/n, I came here for a reason,” Jimin says as his thumbs rub gently over your knuckles. 

“I wanted to meet your family pack and reassure them that we are going to treat you right, take care of you like one of our own, spoil you silly, and support you endlessly,” he says shyly.

Quickly glancing at Namjoon, Jimin focuses back on you, “Each mate wants to spend a day with you—just you. We will take time with you so that we can learn who you are and show you who we really are.”

Your eyes are glassy, and your scent is losing some of the acid as he continues, “Will you grant us the honor to take you out? Allow us the pleasure of getting to know each other on a personal level, Luna?”

Once you agreed to the outings with the Bangtan pack, Evie brought out the cookies. Of course, while she was feisty, her Omegan side always wanted what she called poofy scents around. Her cookies never failed to lighten the mood.

Namjoon and Evie stood in the kitchen. Evie cleaned up from baking the cookies, and Namjoon avoided everything as much as he could. This seemed to amuse Evie to no end. No animosity could be seen or smelt between the two.

Jimin took the time to speak with Derek while sitting on my bed. You were pretty sure that they were practically interviewing each other. That or Jimin was trying to learn more about you through the beta. Derek looked like he was having a serious conversation and was concerned about what he was saying.

You had gone out onto the small balcony to get some fresh air. Emotions running amok:

The shock of the unexpected guests. 

The embarrassment of Evie’s declarations.

The fear of retaliation from the Alphas for those same words. 

The flutters of your heart at the reorganization of your status by Jimin. The ease of the kind words of the Alphas.

“Is there a reason why the pack Luna has come outside?”

“Yoongi,” you breathe out, trying to suppress a shudder at the use of your pack titles again. “I am sorting myself. So much has happened this week. I am not sure it has sunk in yet.”

Walking up behind you, he grips the railing on each side of you. Effectively caging you in. Resting his chin on your shoulder, breathing in your scent as it has settled back into sweet pea and vanilla.

“Is there anything that can help?” he asks quietly.

“You three are not offended by Evie's words, right? Or by how I acted, even though I am not a hybrid?” You say, still looking over the street below.

A gentle scoff is heard: “Your feisty Omega thinks highly of her Luna, and Your Beta does as well. I am not sure you remember everything from the breakroom, but Your Beta expressed similar concerns to us then. Your pack is concerned for you.”

You chuckle softly, “Yes, that they are. They always have been. I feel like I am letting them down with my issues. Like I am not strong enough for the position they have given me.”

“They wouldn’t be able to follow you as their Luna if they didn’t trust you to lead them. Now, as far as your actions.” Yoongi’s voice deepens. 

His nose runs along the shell of your ear, leaving hot puffs as he breathes, “Your actions were a sight to see, Luna.”

Stepping closer to you, his hands resting on your hips and making your back flush with his front. His heat pours into you as you feel yourself relax slowly into him. 

“So, seeing a human do that wasn't offensive?”

“Offensive is not the word I would use for it.” Yoongi sounds amused as he raises his hand, trailing it along your body, lightly covering your throat to grip your chin. 

Turning your face to his, he lets out a purr that vibrates your whole body. His nose runs along yours. “Intriguing, captivating, alluring would be better words to describe how your actions made us feel.”

He scents your cheek with his as he whispers in your ear, “Did you think scruffing the young Omega would do nothing for my Alpha, Princess?”

Your breath becomes difficult as your body lightly shudders at his words. Your mind runs scenarios through your head. Yoongi’s lips on your neck, or his teeth leaving marks on your skin. Fighting your reaction the best you can, nails digging into your palm.

You want to lean into his touch more than you already have, but your mind screams that you can’t—not with the knowledge that he has mates, and some of those mates are just on the other side of the sliding glass door. 

“I didn’t… I wasn’t…” Finding your words is complicated when his scent of rain washes over you. In your mind, you keep chanting that the closeness means nothing; it’s a hybrid thing. 

No, this has to be an Alpha hybrid thing. 

Alpha Hybrid thing.

“I know, Princess. You were being a proper Luna. Too bad Jungkookie isn’t here. I would like to see him hold back like the rest of us are,” he says, stepping back. His eyes are drawn to the glass door and his mates on the other side. 

“Hold back?” You question, turning around and following his gaze into your flat. Your eyes connect with those of Jimin’s.

“I think he would like a word in private with you, Princess,” Yoongi says as he goes inside without looking back. He harshly whispers something to Jimin, who nods with his eyes never leaving yours.

“Sorry to disturb your time with Yoongi-hyung, Luna. May I join you?” He asks while remaining inside the flat.

“Of course, Jimin. You weren’t… ah, you weren’t disturbing anything,” you smile softly, willing for the heat of whatever that was with Yoongi to go away with the breeze.

“Thank you, Luna.” You giggle at his use of your title, which causes Jimin to look confused.

“You guys don’t need to call me Luna. They only use it when they are in trouble.” You wave your good hand in front of you as you smile brightly.

“Oh. Umm… I just didn’t want to disrespect you in your pack house. With your powerful display of strength and the level of respect and honor you require of your pack, I would only want to support that.”

“Thank you, Jimin. I really do hope that none of you were offended. I know Yoongi said that none of you are but still.”

“No need to worry. None of us were offended.” Jimin walks over to the railing and looks at the sky. “Do you want to know what Yoongi-hyung said to me?”

Moving to stand beside him respectfully, “Only if you feel comfortable telling me.” Your response pulls a soft smile from him.

“He told me; he demanded me to find a way to connect with you,” he says, taking a deep breath, allowing your vanilla mate and sweet pea scent to give him the strength to continue. His sweet orange scent starting to mix with Yoongi’s rain.

“What did Manager Sejin tell you about our last Playmate? Did he say anything about how she left or what she said?” he asks, glancing over quickly.

Standing up straighter, the question catches you off guard. “He didn’t go into great detail. He did say that she was a permanent Playmate but found love in a human and broke her contract; however, she said some not-so-nice things.”

“That’s how the PR department told us to say it. We can say enough to answer questions but not enough to tell what really happened.”

Turning to face you directly. You follow his lead, giving Jimin your full attention. Your soul is willing Jimin to find his calm and strength to continue. 

“Jimin, I would rather hear it directly from you or your mates if any of you wanted to share, but I am also satisfied with only knowing what I do.”

“Hobi and Yoongi-hyung never got along with any of the playmates. The rest of the pack could always get along with practically anyone. We should have known from the beginning something wasn’t right when Alpha Kook didn’t like her from the beginning. Even then, she was with us for about three years.”

“I think she was around for so long because of me. I grew attached to her deeper than anyone else did. I even took her home when we had some time off. My former owner and family pack were shocked that I brought home someone other than a mate with me.”

“We never did anything. I never cheated on Bangtan, but I still feel like a part of me fell for her in a way.”

“Not every mate is a soulmate like you and Bangtan are, Jimin,” you quietly add. 

He chuckles and shakes his head, “True. Hybrids do have packs with non-soulmate bonded mates. Typically, these are caused by a strong connection with them, but again, it is rare, nearly unheard of, for that deep connection to be with a human.”

“Oh, I see. Evie and I are practically sisters, which is a version of a soulmate, I feel. Then Derek came along and I felt like I found a piece of me that I never knew was missing. Now, he is a member of the pack.”

“I thought she might be something like that with you,” you say, looking inside and watching your pack laughing with the other two Alphas.

“Oh no. The pack you have gathered, Luna, is one of a kind. I am in awe of the connection they have with you. You are different with them.”

“Different? Oh no. This is me.” you giggle.

“You have seen professional and pained versions of me. Honestly, I tend to react on instinct. I have no filter. I have a passion for my friends and family.”

Biting your bottom lip, you continue, “Genevie was right about what she said, though. I tend to put those important to me before myself. I have always struggled with my mental health, but I am a total goof and geeky nerd. You will see; you all will.”

“I struggled with some depression back in 2018,” Jimin admits, bringing his attention back to you. “I was still struggling with it until, gosh… 2020.”

“Seul-ki, the Playmate, was contracted on January 17, 2019. Now that I look back, I think she knew that she was not being accepted by the pack. She clung to me for security through my insecurities.”

Your heart breaks at his story. Stepping closer, you rest your hand on his arm, trying to offer any modicum of support: “They say hindsight is 20/20, but that doesn’t mean what she did was right or that you didn’t mean something to her.”

Looking at your hand on his arm, a soft smile graces his face. After taking a few moments to be in the moment with you and accept your support, he places his hand on top of yours.

“That wasn’t the worst part.” Clearing his throat, wetting his now dry lips, he huffs before continuing. 

“I am not sure, but BigHit believes that she might have broken her contract and shared private information. Seul-ki fell in love with a reporter from Dispatch. We think they met while he was tailing us like they always do.”

“To top it off, when she left, she said some things that tore at our souls. We, ah… we made her skin crawl when our animals would come out. It was disgusting to see such handsome men turn into such filthy animals.”

You quickly pull Jimin into a hug, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and your face buried in his neck. You are stunned by how hateful Seul-ki was to them.

Warm tears fall down your face and wet his neck, pulling a soft whine from him as he returns the hug. His arms wrap around your waist. You have always been emotional to others getting bullied because of your past.

“Sorry, Jimin. I am so sorry. Humans are mean and stupid. She shouldn’t have said that.  How can anyone say that? Something so barbaric,” you mumble into his neck. 

“It’s okay, Y/n,” Jimin says while rubbing soothing circles on your back. 

Leaning back, you wipe your face of the wet streaks, “You are so strong to come to PMS and look for another Playmate. Then you go and get stuck with me.”

“I know that we take a risk when we bring in a playmate. I was finally trying to get past what happened,” he pauses, searching your eyes. “I wasn’t ready to find you, and I am sorry that I kept away from you, but my Alpha got scared of my mates' reaction to you.”

“Please don’t worry about me. You can show me as much or as little of you without any negative consequences from me. You really don’t have to get any closer to me than you want to.” 

It's then that you realize you are engulfing the poor red panda.

Lowering your arms, you say, “I’m sorry,” and take a step back, only to be stopped by Jimin’s arms holding you tighter. “Jimin?”

“Just give us a second, please.”

Relinquishing your attempt at distancing yourself, you rest your arms around his shoulders again. Watching him map out every inch of your face. 

Being similar in height, you are eye to eye, allowing you to see his eyes' chestnut brown start to bleed through the whites and deepen into a darker reddish color.

Your breath catches in your throat, “Alpha Chim.”

A playful smile blooms on his face with a soft grunt, “Luna.”

The sound of your tiles coming from Alpha Chim feels like a wave of electricity falling over you, “Welcome to my packhouse, Alpha Chim.”. 

“Smell of Yoon."

“Yes, Alpha Yoon was with me before you came out. He scented me before going inside with your Prime Alpha and the rest of my pack. Is that okay, Alpha?”

“Mate scent, okay,” he says, raising his hand and almost cupping your face. “May I?"

“Yes, Alpha Chim,” you reply, tilting your head to expose your neck and closing your eyes. You have never been so thankful for wearing the sweetheart peasant shirt.

Jimin takes his time tracing your jawline and the outline of your ear. Then, as his fingers go down your neck to find your pulse point, he takes hold. He has a firm but comforting grip and massages your neck and shoulder. 

Now you can smell it, oranges. With Yoogni’s lingering scent,  you envision that this would be the smell of an orchard full of ripe oranges after a spring shower.

After a moment, his hand drops, but before you can straighten, you feel him move again. This time, he brings his nose to scent your skin where his hand was—finding the blend of Yoongi, your, and his scent. 

His warm breaths on your skin snap your eyes open, only to find you now have an audience. Pushing the Alpha away from you, he slowly releases you as he notices your sights are behind him.

“Princess. Jimin-ah. It's about time we head back to Bangtan packhouse,” Yoogni says with a knowing smile. Namjoon is standing behind him, questioning eyes trained on Jimin.

You nod and look at the Alpha holding you, and you are met with chestnut eyes, “Jimin?”

“Got it, Hyung.” He says, dropping his hold on you altogether. His posture has gone slightly stiff, but you don’t know if it's because his scenting was interrupted or something else.

Jimin went right inside. You felt like he was trying to find that distance again. You decided to wait just a few, take a few deep breaths of the pure, unscented fall air. It would allow you to collect yourself and give Jimin a chance to escape. Once back inside your flat, leaving was simple but dragged out. 

Evie had packed up the remaining cookies to be taken back to the rest of Bangtan. 

Derek and Jimin took your packed belongings to the waiting vans. 

Namjoon and Yoongi, clad in bucket hats and masks, went with you to talk with the manager about your absence. They were unwilling to let you do it on your own—something about potential confrontation and protecting you.

The building manager was a gentle older man who always greeted everyone with a smile and wanted to share some kind of treat when he had visitors.  Today, it was butterscotch chews, one of your favorites. 

After explaining the change in your job description and the requirement to be temporarily housed elsewhere, the manager said he would watch your flat. He also suggested that you put a temporary disruption of water, power, and gas utilities. 

After additional planning, Evie stayed behind to load your few plants into her car to care for at her house. Jimin and Yoongi went in one van to head back to the AirBnb.

Namjoon, Derek, and you went in the other direction to take Derek home since he carpooled with Evie. You weren’t entirely sure why he couldn’t just carpool back, but maybe the plants taking up too much space in Evie’s car had something to do with it.

The van had hardly been in motion when the Guardian of Y/l/n Pack came out of the lovely Beta fox.

“Prime Alpha, how do you think your pack will handle the dating Y/n?” Derek asks bluntly.

Apparently, the plants had nothing to do with his persistent need to hitch a ride with you and the Prime Alpha. Internally, you groan at your pack's bluntness and wonder why they have taken an informal approach to the Bantang pack. It's like they are testing to see if you are worth being around them.

“Derek!” you say, shocked. “They are not dates. They are outings to get to know each other. You know very well that they are a mate-bonded pack. You’re writing our contract!”

“Yes, I am well aware of your contract. I am also aware they left out their standard rut clause, and both sides are still requiring a full physical with inclusive testing.” He responds, rolling his eyes, “but that doesn’t explain how they will react to their non-dating dates with you.”

“Mr. Gulley, I understand your concern for your Luna,” Namjoon interjects. “Spending time individually with our previous playmates was normal for us because that is what any playmate is for. We also go out in pairs or small groups for outings.”

“The pack discussed it throughout today, and everyone is on the same page. We understand that some of us, such as Yoongi-hyung, have connected with your Luna on an instinctual level.”

“Others have expressed wanting that same level of connection with her,” he says, his eyes focused on you. “Jungkook, Seokjin-hyung, and now Jimin-ah have already started trying to connect. So far, no one has shown any signs of territorial dominance over your Luna.”

“Territorial dominance?” you ask.  Internally, you remind yourself not to melt at the continued use of your Luna title.

Derik answers, “Evie gave us a wonderful display today of how  Omegas and Betas are protective of the pack or pack house.”

“However, Luna, imprinting or becoming territorial towards a single member of the pack is common with Alphas. This can cause the remaining pack members to need permission to interact with the chosen member.”

“But I am not in their pack.” Looking at Namjoon, “I am not a member of your pack, Prime Alpha. Right?”

“Technically, you are not at this point. We cannot officially bring you into the pack, even as a temporary member, until the contract is finalized after your medical appointments.” Namjoon says, attempting to withhold his disdain for having you continue to think everything is temporary.

“Temporary pack member. You want me to be a temporary pack member. Are such things as temporary members? Can I be in two packs like that? What would I be in Bangtang Pack? I can’t be Luna to a pack of Alphas! Derek, what will happen to our pack?”

“The family pack with Evie and I will remain with you as our Luna. Nothing will ever change that. We will always have a place for you. While you are busy with your other pack, the leader tends to fall to the next in line, which is me.”

“Are you okay with that? Evie and you fight like cats and dogs… well, cats and foxes. You are also an amazing Beta and always take good care of her. You have taken care of both of us when we needed it. You also have Mathew, who can help if needed, I suppose.”

“Not to worry. I will be fine, Luna. Evie and I talked about it briefly when you were on the balcony. We are going to have dinner tomorrow with Mathew to settle a few things.” Derek smiles.

“Okay, you can always call me, though. I am still here,” you reassure him. “When are my appointments and the final meeting to sign the contract?”

“Ah yes,” Derek says, pulling out his phone. “Your medical appointment is tomorrow morning at 9:30 a.m. at the Bangtan Packhouse, and the contract signing is two days later at PMS, but the time hasn’t been confirmed yet.”

“Once the contract is completed with the Bangtan pack, you will gain access to the pack’s group and individual schedules. As to where you will fit within the pack dynamic, that is something you will just have to feel that out as the pack gets to know you and you to know them.”

“Jimin-ah, when I asked you to connect with Y/n, did you think I was trying to push you?” Yoongi asks the younger Alpha, sitting on the bench seat with unfocused eyes.

Shaking his head, he says, “No, but I couldn’t… no, I didn’t want to stop.”

“What do you mean?” Yoongi asks with concern.

“I came with Namjoon-hyung so that I could learn more about her. I thought that being in her pack house would be able to show me something. But, the closer we got to her flat, the more restless my Alpha got.” 

Jimin pauses to take a deep breath. “Then, when she went from Miss Y/n to Luna, I felt her energy, prowess, and dominance, and it intrigued my Alpha. He kept pushing to call her Luna just to see her reaction every time.”

“The lemon of her scent when she was in her Luna mode mixed so well with my orange. Then add on her natural sweet pea, your petrichor, hyung’s leather, and the vanilla mate scent,” groans. “It was so much. I can’t describe it.”

“Oh no, I get that. Trust me. My Alpha and I both reacted to her ‘little’ show. That is why I followed her outside. We had to be near her, get my hands on her, scent her. It’s irritating that she doesn’t recognize the mate scent and bonds that are forming yet.” Yoongi reminisces. 

“But, Jimin-ah, what happened when the two of you were alone?” Yoongi asks, moving to sit on the bench. 

After Yoongi moves, Jimin lies down with his head in the older Alpha’s lap, “I told her about Seul-ki.”

A soft gasp of shock comes from Yoongi. Immediately, the younger alpha is covered in soft rain, followed by fingers running through his hair.

“She cried for us. She apologized for what Seul-ki did. She promised that I could stay away, and she would be okay with it,” Jimin says softly. 

The weight of your words made his chest tight, “My Alpha came out and scented her, hyung. He accepted her declarations but got skittish when you came to get us.”

“Sorry to have interrupted that moment for you, Minnie. I know it's been a while since your Alpha has initiated scenting with anyone.”

“I don’t understand it, hyung. It’s like my heart is everywhere, and my mind is trying to keep up after staying away.” 

Yoongi watches as silent tears start to fall from his mate's eyes. Hooking a hand under Jimin’s neck and lifting, Yoongi leans down and softly kisses away the tears.

Jimin’s eyes flutter at the feeling of Yoongi’s lips on his skin. The jaguar's soft purr is heard as his kisses start covering the younger mate’s face. 

Opening his eyes, Jimin cups Yoongi’s face, which pauses his kisses. “Yoongi-hyung, please.”

“I got you, my minnie love,” Yoongi says as he leans down, lightly brushing his lips over Jimin’s.

A soft whine leaves Jimin before he moves to be more in Yoongi’s lap. His knees are curled against the back of the bench seat, and he is chest-to-chest with the jaguar. Yoongi continues to leave almost phantom kisses on Jimin’s lips. 

Once settled, Jimin rests one hand on Yoongi’s chest, his other hand sliding around to the back of Yoongi’s head with another whine.

“What is it you want, my minnie love? Use your words,” Yoongi teases with a slight nip to Jimin’s lower lip. 

“Alpha, help settle my… my everything. Mate, Alpha, kiss me, please,” Jimin begs, gripping the older Alpha with both hands.

“Hmm, there is my good boy,” Yoongi smiles, tightening his grip on Jimin’s neck and securing his other hand on the younger man’s thigh. 

Jimin instinctually tenses. After all, he is still an Alpha, and being trapped isn’t normal.  Breathing in for a few seconds, Jimin connects with their personal mate bond. It is almost instantaneous, and the younger man sighs in relief and relaxes into the security his mate’s hold provides.

Once that change happens, Yoongi kisses Jimin, grounding Jimin’s thoughts and feelings away from what has happened in the last week, bringing him to the here and now. 

Yoongi’s scent fills Jimin’s every breath.

Yoongi’s body heat penetrates Jimin’s very core.

Yoongi’s mouth pulls to be Jimin’s sole focus. 

It’s not a pretty kiss. Jimin is so scattered that the typically controlled minx of a mate is everywhere. The passionate pace with which Jimin attacks Yoongi makes the exchange wet and sloppy. 

Yoogni matches the intensity of the kiss and follows Jimin's pace. As turned on as he was at the Y/n display as Luna, he knows this is not about him.

When Jimin licks at the seam of Yoongi’s mouth, he immediately gives in, allowing the young Alpha to explore and try to find some form of control. 

Jimin's taste is beautiful, and the feel of his tongue tangling with Yoongi’s is mesmerizing.

However, Jimin doesn’t want to be in charge. He wants the older Alpha to put him in his place. So he changes tactics, sucking not so gently on Yoongi’s tongue, pulling a groan from the older mate. With that delicious sound, Jimin knows he won't stay passive much longer. 

After seven years of learning what every noise, scent change, and muscle movement means, it isn’t hard to play each other like a fiddle. 

One more harsh suck of Yoogni’s tongue, matched with a tug of his hair, causes both of the older’s hands to grip tightly. Yoongi’s hips jerk up, aching for some friction.

Pulling away from Yoongi, Jimin says in a sultry voice, “Something wrong, Alpha?”

“No, but I think you might want to ask yourself that,” Yoogni smirks. Quickly, he uses the grip on his neck to angle Jimin’s body to lay across his lap, with his back resting against the side of the van.

Confusion furrows Jimin’s brow, “What do you…Ahhh!” Jimin’s thoughts are cut off at the feel of Yoongi palming his growing erection. 

Cupping Jimin’s length through his tight, dancing pants, Yoongi slowly moves his hand up and down. Relishing every twitch of the younger mate’s member.  

When God created Jimin as a short man, it was because someone added inches to the wrong leg. Out of the mates, Jimin was unmatched in length. 

Paying attention with a tighter grip at the head, “What was that, minnie love?”

“Alpha... Ahh... aaalphha,” whines Jimin as he starts to rut into Yoongi’s hand. M…mooore please, Alpha.” Any dominance or control the younger mate thought he had from before was lost in the waves of pleasure Yoongi granted Jimin.

Glancing out the dark-tinted windows, Yoongi is starting to recognize some of the surroundings, meaning they are close to the packhouse. “You think you can finish before we get to the packhouse, minnie love? Are you going to be a good boy and give me your release?”

“Yes, yes, Alpha. Please let me, Alpha. I’m a good boy, please,”

“Mmm… I do love it when you are my good boy. Asking so politely,” Yoongi quickens his speed, which causes the red panda to groan unapologetically. 

The graceful bend of his cock barely keeps the young mate's impressive length below his waistband. A dampness started to form on Jimin’s pants from the pre-cum steadily leaking out. 

The sight is making Yoongi’s mouth water. Seokjin may have an oral fixation, it was Yoongi with the tongue technology. The jaguar hybrid’s textured tongue was a bonus for his mates when his desire to drink them dry took over. 

A brief moan escapes Yoongi at the thought of what you would taste like and how you would react to the feel of his tongue on your skin and in your various depths. A high-pitched whine from the panda in his lap brings Yoongi back to his current task.

Changing his rhythms, Yoongi brings Jimin closer to their goal, their aroused scent growing thick in the air. Yoongi makes a note to compensate the driver for his discretion and for taking an extra long route back.  

Slipping his hand down to play with Jimin’s taught balls, “Ohh minnie love,” squeeze, “My good boy is sooo heavy. You’re so full. Have you been saving it for me? Hmm, my good boy?”

While Yoongi may be playing his body like a pro, it’s Yoongi’s words that bring Jimin into a headspace of comfort and grounding. Purring the words out, he says, “Good boy. Such a good boy for me. Saving everything for me. How I wish to swallow you all up, but that will have to be for another time.”

Glancing up one more time, Yoongi can see the packhouse gate. With a firm squeeze, Yoongi palms Jimin with a tempo fast enough that Jimin can only go along for the ride. His muscles strain to hold on just a little longer as the coil in his abdomen winds tighter.

His whines and pleas are like music to Yoongi’s ears. Mixes of Alpha, too much, don’t stop, good boy, and please fire off in random order from Jimin as he holds on for dear life. He is curling into himself as he builds higher and higher.

Yoongi solely focuses on the pleasure displayed on Jimin’s face. He encourages the red panda to lose himself in the heat of the moment, praises him for being such a good boy, and always reminds the young mate that Yoongi has him. 

At the sound of silence followed by a gasp, Yoongi knows Jimin is right there and waiting for his Alpha, like a good boy.

Tilting Jimin’s head back and into his shoulder, Yoongi growls one command before biting over Jimin’s mating mark, “Cum.”

The reaction is immediate and without thought. Jimin lets out a high-pitched whine with his back bowed as he gives Yoongi his release. Rutting against the older man’s palm, he rides out his high, giving everything to the older mate as a good boy should. 

“Look at you. Such a good, messy boy cumming for me,” Yoogni says, his eyes now admiring the sizable dark patch showing on Jimin’s pants. “I think you deserve a reward for being such a good boy. Don’t you agree, my minnie love?”

“Yes, please. Good boy for Alpha.” Jimin huffs between breaths, his unfocused eyes searching Yoongi’s face for what to do next.

Namjoon may be the Prime Alpha, but Yoongi was one of the Dominants in the pack when it came to different forms of pleasure. Yoongi has set rewards and aftercare requirements for all his mates.

“When we finish parking, you will wait for your reward in my den. Understood?” instructs Yoongi softly, running his hands over Jimin’s thigh and massaging his neck.  

“Yes, Alpha.”

After dropping Derek off at his apartment, Namjoon, having explained that everyone should be home already, you both decided to bring home dinner. This time, the Pack Alpha picked the meal.

The food smelled divine but spicy, which worried you because spice was definitely not your thing. However, you were reassured that only a little over half of the food was spicy because Taehyung couldn’t handle spicy either.

Once at the packhouse, Seokjin helped Namjoon bring your bags and dinner inside, allowing you to carry only your purse. You were surprised that Yoongi or Jungkook were not waiting for you. 

Reminding yourself that they have a house full of mates that would also need some of their attention, you attempt to push any negative feelings away. You had better not get used to monopolizing any of their time starting now. 

Going into what would officially be your room by the end of the week, you looked around and imagined what you would do with it. It’s not like it's permanent-permanent, but still, having a plant or some books. Maybe photos of your pack would be nice.

Agh, first you have to do something with the bed. You were given a lot of pillows and blankets, but they were piled in various ways. It would be what your mom would call “a down-right mess.” Letting out a deep sigh of sadness, you started to rearrange everything. 

Putting things back into what would be considered a proper bed. Laying the pillows at the top of the bed and smoothing the blankets as flat as possible with one good hand.

Growing up in a family that insisted on perfection, you always hated making your bed in the mornings. Keeping your room clean and having a 5-star hotel-looking bed helped overshadow some of your shortcomings. 

Your friends in Colorado were always impressed with your cleanliness, which was a point of pride and joy for your mother. One of the few things your mother would praise you about was a spotless bed and awards from horseback riding competitions. 

Once you moved to California, Evie and her siblings never understood why your mother would yell about your bedding habits. You always tried to brush it off and avoid having sleepovers at your place because of it. 

“Y/n?” The sound of your name being called pulls you from your thoughts as you look to the doorway to find Hoseok.

“Hi, Hoseok-ssi. Did you have a good day today?”

“Hi. Yeah. Just got some new things this Airbnb didn’t have for the pack.” Looking around you with concern, “Are you going somewhere?”

“Umm… no, well, the dining room in a moment,” you answer, looking around to ensure you are done.

Standing and walking to him, you say, “I think Jin and Prime Alpha should have everything set out by now. We stopped for takeout at JinCook, a local Korean restaurant nearby.”

Even though you walk closer to him, his eyes stay focused on your bed.

“I'm sorry my bed is still messy. It's harder to make it with only one hand than one would think. I would have made it this morning, but I was in a rush.”

“I am not… it’s not… it’s well made. You make a bed better than half the people I know, but why? It's already getting darker outside, and you will be sleeping soon.” He asks, his eyes finally looking at you.

“Mother always said, ‘If you make your bed every morning, you will have accomplished the first task of the day, and if you cannot do the little things, then you can never do the things worth being recognized for.’” you recite the words that have been ingrained in you for years.

“Your mother said that? She made you break down… I mean, remake your bed every day?”

“Yep, and I would be in trouble if I didn’t. There’s nothing wrong with making your bed and keeping a clean house, Hoseok,” you pat his arm and move past him, heading to the dining room. 

Hoseok remains in the doorway. Glaring at the bed and processing what you said.  Soon, the smell of cherries grows more substantial, “Jin.”

“Hello, Hoba,” he stops, glancing over Hoseok’s shoulder, “Where is Y/n?”

“She went to the dining room, but look,” he moves to the side, allowing the eldest mate to look at your room.

Looking in, Seokjin smiles. He sees that you used the travel gear he left for you, and it pleases his Alpha to provide something. 

His eyes then travel to your bed, smile dropping, “Her nest.”

“She tore it down, hyung. I caught her trying to fold corners with one hand, and then she apologized for it still being messy,” Hoseok says, his voice hushing with astonishment.

“What? First off, she needs to teach me how to make those corners, but more importantly, why?” he comments and asks as he walks farther into the room. 

“Jin! Hoseok! Jimin! Yoongi! Jungkook! The food is going to get cold,” you yell from the dining room. 

They both look towards the dining room, “She knows about nests. She told me last night when we helped gather materials. She keeps emphasizing that she was making a blanket fort or human nest.”

“Namjoon said there was an interesting interaction at her pack house, and she asked Yoon and Minnie if they were offended by what she did because she was human.”

“What did she do?” Hoseok asks, turning his attention back to his mate in the room. 

“I didn’t get details other than she proved why she is the head of her pack. Well, that and she has a feisty Omega,” Seokjin informs Hoseok. 

“She may know what it is, but does she understand what it means to us? Or that we would be okay with her keeping it? Rather, we would want her to keep it, right?” Hoseok worries.

Taking Hoseok’s hand and gently kissing the back, he heads toward the dining room. “Of course, she could keep it. I don't know what she knows about nests, but I did mention that she should build one with Jimin.”

Hoseok stops abruptly with a gasp. Hurrying back to your room, he shuts the door while glancing at the stairs, “Jin-hyung, could you imagine how Jimin would react to seeing her nest gone?!?”

“Even though he didn’t say anything, he looked happy to see her have one. It's something to connect with her about,” Hoseok says, rejoining Jin. “Her nest and the inclusion of the pack are what made him confident about seeing her this afternoon.”

“Oh, yeah, no. He doesn’t need to see that,” Jin agrees.

The boys find their seats and start to dig in. Shortly after, the remaining three joined the table with wet hair and looked ready for bed. You note they all look still pink from their showers and wonder how hot they take them. 

Dinner was yummy, all thanks to your non-spicy companion sitting next to you. Taehyung saved you more than once from eating something that you were sure would equal the death of your stomach.

Conversations were more manageable than yesterday. Everyone seems to talk around or over the others. They randomly jump from topic to topic. It’s a bit of chaos, but they are mates, and it feels oddly domestic.

Not once did you feel unable to keep up. However, after you yawned for the “millionth time,” according to Yoongi, you were ushered off to bed. You knew the boys had to be tired, but they all seemed far from ready to sleep. 

You crawl into bed after changing and using the skincare products left in your bathroom. You spend the next few minutes pushing, pulling, stuffing, and rebuilding your little blanket fort. 

This time, you try out Jimin’s body pillow, Taehyung’s blanket, and Hoseok’s pillow, even though you really want to use the ones left by Yoongi and Jungkook. You figure that this would be the first small step to pay attention to them equally. 

It's not professional to have favorites, right?

Once you close your bedroom door, the dining room goes silent. They all listen to your movements before anyone says anything. As soon as nothing is detected, Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jimin are the pack's sole focus. 

“I guess a pack meeting is in order for a few reasons,” Namjoon starts. 

“A few reasons? That is one way to put it,” Jungkook chuckles, his eyes roaming over to Yoongi and Jimin before settling back on the Prime Alpha. 

“I will let Yoongi explain Y/n’s living situation first. Then, we will talk about how things went with her family pack, answer any questions, and make any necessary plans. Yoongi-hyung?”

All eyes shift to the jaguar, stoic-faced as ever, weighing how to explain anything that has happened today.

“Well, Y/n lives closer to PMS in the Downtown LA area with rather high crime rates. My Alpha is not happy about that. Her building doesn’t have any gates or locks to get into the building,” Yoongi starts with the most concerning part of the visit for him as your protector. 

“Even though she lives on one of the upper levels, she only has a simple deadbolt and chain to keep herself safe.” Sounds of displeasure rise in the room, but they are still respectful to you sleeping nearby.

“When I went to drop her off, she wouldn’t let me in her flat. She mentioned a nearby place she frequents for coffee, tea, and food. It’s really a gem of a place and could easily grow with the right guidance, but that isn’t the issue,” he continued.

“If it’s a gem, why is there an issue, hyung?” asks Taehyung, who was thinking of ways to help the business before the crypticness set in.

“Carlo, a domestic Mexican dog Hybrid, runs it. He said his hybrid side is called a Chamuco. Anyway, he runs the kitchen and orders the food. He is happily mated to his wife, and they are waiting for their second litter.” 

The pack smiles at the happy news, but their faces still show confusion about where the issue is.

“His business partner, Payu, is a Thai human infatuated with Y/n. He got defensive with me regarding her, especially when I couldn’t explain my intentions or who I was,” Yoongi tries to tell his mates without a hiss. 

“She is a lovely person. I am not surprised that she has admirers and it’s nice that she has someone that looks out for her. His crush will fade eventually,” Seokjin comments, still confused about why it’s a problem.

“No, Hyung. He told me he planned to ask her out the next time she stopped by the cafe.” Yoongi stressed how soon things may get even more complicated.

“She is living here now, so going all the way to the cafe will be hard. We just need to make sure to avoid the area. Send its location to the pack chat, Yoongi.” Namjoon instructs, giving no more for discussion.

Nodding at the order, Yoongi does just that. The ping shows a photo of the two owners in front of the business doors. 

“I know we all want to keep her safe, which we can while she is here, but we cannot do anything right now about her flat being where it is. However, it is rather small for a pack house,” Namjoon continues.

“Yeah, I am pretty sure that the whole packhouse could fit in our current living room,” Jimin comments. 

“Seriously?” Hoseok exclaims but is quickly hushed by the other pack members. “Sorry. How does she have the basics needed for survival in a small place? You said it was the packhouse, too?”

“Yeah,  her family pack would refer to it as the packhouse. It haaaas enough to get by, I guess,” Jimin shrugs. 

“I spoke with her beta, that fox hybrid from her work,” he says, looking around, making sure everyone remembers who he is talking about. “He says that the packhouse moved there about two years ago, and about a month after she accepted him to the pack.

“Who accepted him to the pack?” Jungkook asks, his ears standing tall, and he starts thinking of how to impress the Alpha of your pack. 

With a smile remembering the moment in the flat when the pack dynamics took over, Jimin looks directly at the youngest Alpha, “Their Luna, Y/n.”

Jungkook’s bunny ears drop at this newest information, “Luna Y/n… Y/n is the Pack Luna… like the head of the pack is our Y/n?”

Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jimin nod as they watch the rest of the pack process the information. 

Seokjin and Hoseok seem shocked, but this makes sense, given how you have behaved around them thus far. However, they still wonder why you keep getting shocked at some of their Alpha behaviors, as you act as the equivalent of an Alpha in your pack. Wouldn’t you know these things already?

Jungkook, on the other hand, is going through so many emotions. His mind is filled with images of him scenting you, his mate, who is also a Luna. God, if he had known that last night… 

“Does she acknowledge herself as Luna, or is it like an honorary or teasing title between friends?” Jungkook asks, his face almost as stoic as Yoongi’s, “Hyungs, be serious, please. Honestly, is she a Luna?”

Clearing his throat, Yoongi leans forward with a smirk, “Put it this way… After Her Omega decided to threaten the pack with being neutered, Luna Y/n scruffed the Omegan cat to remind her of her place in front of everyone.”

The tension rises as the thought of you holding any type of power intrigues and entices each of them in different ways. Most of their minds wander to ways of getting you to use that power with or around them, dominating and controlling different situations. 

On the other hand, some want you to relinquish that power and control, allowing them to dominate your every sense, getting you to relax fully into their Alphas, and accepting the safety they will provide you. 

“In the heat of the moment, she is by all means ‘Luna Y/n’ with no questions asked,” Jimin interjects. “However, when I called her Luna, she became flustered and was concerned about her and her Omega offending us.”

“Let's just say Y/n has had to do many things and has become skilled in ways that most humans wouldn’t even try properly. She certainly doesn’t abuse that power like some more dominant humans do.  Though, I am not convinced that even Y/n knows where she stands in the overall scheme of things,” the Prime Alpha comments.

Looking at each of his mates, Namjoon says, “I spoke with her Omega. I learned a decent amount about Y/n interactions with Mrs. Genevie’s family pack. What concerns me was Genvie explaining that Y/n took to the pack quickly, almost as if she was an orphan.”

“An orphan?” questions Seokjin. “What about her mother or father?”

Namjoon’s face fell, “After talking with both members of her pack, I only learned that she came to California with her mom and brother. Her mom made sure she never talked about her father or that side of the family.”

Seokjin and Hoseok share a look, both remembering what you did to your nest.

“I think her mom was quite controlling and..” Seokjin pauses, looking at Jimin. “And I think she has something against hybrids. Which doesn’t make sense because Y/n’s mom allowed her to be friends and interact with her Omega’s family pack.”

“Why are you looking at me? Why do you say that, Hyung?” Jimin asks, scooting forward in his chair. His orange scent is curled with worry. His eyes look between the two older mates as they share his concern.

“We all saw that she made a nest with our things when we left this morning. Before she came in here, I was talking with her and well… she made her bed,” Hoseok says with his eyes never leaving Jimin. 

“Wha..What do you mean?” Jimin pushes.

“I mean, she tore down her ‘blanket fort.’ Put our extra materials at the foot of the bed, and it looked the same as when we arrived for the very first time,” Hoseok explains. 

“She didn’t break it down because she wanted to. She broke it down because her mother drilled it into her to do so—to the point that she would get into trouble if she didn’t,” adds Seokjin while slightly glaring at Hoseok.

Jimin stands and paces behind his mates' chairs. He is trying to keep the memories at bay—the memories of his former owners—the voices of his former owners scolding him, the feeling of worthlessness, and the sounds of flesh beating into flesh. Did you live like that, too? Were you raised to be someone who you really are not, just like him?

Most hybrids were purchased or raised by the small percent of the world who had more money than they knew what to do with. Jimin’s mother was pregnant with him when she was bought. After he was born, they trained him to be a showpiece.

They thought that because he was male and a bear, that automatically made him an Alpha. 

As a young boy, Jimin was soft and cuddly. He learned to build nests from his Omega mother, but they had to hide them. If their owners saw him build or sleep in a nest, they would tear it down and beat him.

After he presented as an Alpha, they would beat him if he displayed any non-Alpha behaviors, such as scenting, cuddling, purring, and even denning, which was the Alpha equivalent of nesting, but the stupid humans didn’t know any different.

It wasn’t long after he presented as an Alpha that his mother passed away. When they attempted to breed her again, she was too old to carry cubs. The owners didn’t care. All they knew was that she was a sow that had successfully had other cubs, so why not more?

Once his mother passed, Jimin shut down and became the perfect Alpha for his owners. He was the perfect gentleman at events and the amazingly attentive ‘toy’ for their close friends, male or female. 

The only time Jimin felt like himself was when they went to extravagant galas, and they would make him dance with anyone willing to spend money. He would lose himself in the music. 

It wasn’t until his owner’s best friend mentioned how Jimin’s flexibility and graceful movements would look beautiful on stage that he found some form of reprieve. 

That reprieve came in the form of schooling. His owners sent him to a performing arts University to learn several dance, writing, and singing styles. The goal was to find more ways to make money off of Jimin. 

During this time, a scout approached him and asked if he was interested in becoming an idol. After some discussion, Jimin jumped at the chance to be an Idol. It would allow him to escape his owners and find his freedom. 

Luckily for him, not only did he find his freedom, he found his mates. 

The pack took the new information to heart and agreed to use the pack nesting room tonight for the first time. It would allow the pack a chance to connect again, and, with all the disturbing news, they all needed the comfort. 

It took Jimin and Taehyung about 15 minutes to build up to an acceptable level of comfort. Using some of the new bedding that Hoseok had gotten to replace what they had given you.

Seokjin lay against the far wall under the large panoramic window. Jimin pressed his back into his front. Finishing the Jimin sandwich was Yoongi. Seokjin and Yoongi wrapped their arms around Jimin to ground him to the present. Both of the older Alphas saw the shadows of the past haunt their precious panda’s face and wanted to offer solace for him.

Jungkook and Taehyung were cuddled together on Yoongi's side. The former became the latter’s pillow for the night. Taehyung curled an arm around the bunny, and the other hand was tucked into Yoongi’s hair, absent-mindedly scratching his scalp behind his ears. 

Hoseok smiled at his mates, already hearing soft snores from a few but noting that the Prime Alpha had not yet joined. Listening through the house, he could hear movement down the hall.

Softly closing the door to the pack nest, Hoseok went to find the missing Alpha. It didn’t take long to find him as he was pacing the dining room and kitchen. His eyebrows furrowed, his tail hanging low, almost touching the ground, and he seemed to be in his own dark world. 

“Prime Alpha?” Hoseok calls softly, trying not to startle his leader. 

The calling of his title snaps Namjoon out of his thoughts, “Hoseok-hyung, why are you still up?” 

“I could ask you the same thing,” he responds, walking closer to him. The Prime Alpha’s faint leather scent tells Hoseok more than enough. Closing the distance, the marten pulls his wolf mate into a tight hug.

Melting into the hold of his mate, Namjoon breathes in his lilac and vanilla scent. Allowing the presence of the pack’s sunshine mate, as they call him, to calm the racing and running of Namjoon’s mind into something more manageable. “Are we doing the right thing by Y/n?”

“Oh, Joonie. I know I was harsh, and the pack didn’t respond well to your idea, but I think it was the only way you thought would help us keep her,” comments Hoseok, rubbing his back in comforting circles. 

“I believe the mate bond is already starting to work magic, Joon. She may be human, but she isn’t immune to it. Remember last year you read all those studies?” Hoseok questioned.

“I remember. You were so interested in the results. They showed that humans can respond to the bond just as strongly as a hybrid, but they just take a while to recognize it.”

“She won’t be mad that we are lying to her? That we are doing all of this with alternative intentions? That I am a horrible Prime Alpha because I didn’t act on the bond right away?” Namjoon asks rapidly. 

“Joonie… Joon…” Hoseok tries to interrupt, “Alpha!” The title again stops Namjoon from continuing to spiral. Pulling back from the hug, Namjoon looks at Hoseok with his eyes, searching for answers that he knows only Y/n holds. 

“Prime Alpha, Namjoon, our wolfie,” Hoseok coos. “Y/n may be all those or none of these. Just know she is also kind. She seems to be just as insecure about everything as we are.”

Namjoon’s eyes focus again on something Hoseok cannot see, “I want to talk with her family pack again without Y/n. At least I would like to let them know she is our mate. Maybe they can help us.”

“That is a brilliant idea, Joon!” smiles Hoseok. 

“Do you think maybe we should all meet with them, just me or a few of us?” Namjoon asks as his focus returns to the mate in his arms. 

“Well, tomorrow, Jin-hyung has a plan for y/n. He wants to start the one-on-one dates and has already ensured his schedule was cleared. So maybe something with you and Yoongi-hyung?”

“That is a good idea. I am glad Seokjin is going to start the dates. He always has a level head when it comes to bringing mates into the fold. Unlike me and my muddled mind and Kookie wanting to jump right into things,” chuckles Namjoon. 

As he relaxes, his leather and vanilla scent returns in full. Taking Hoseok’s hand, the two start walking to the pack nest. “I think tomorrow, I will let the rest of the pack know and ask who wants to join me.”

“Sounds great, Alpha. Now let’s go to bed,” agrees Hoseok as he opens the door and leads the Pack Alpha into the nest.

Glancing over the nest, seeing each of his mates with soft features of sleep gracing their features makes love in Namjoon’s heart blossom. He always wanted to be the Pack Alpha, and then when it was apparent all his mates were also Alphas, it was an honor to be recognized as their Prime Alpha. 

He was lying down, with Hoseok curling along his back and acting like a koala by hooking his limbs around him. Sleeping Hoseok was just as clingy if not more so, than awake Hoseok.

Focusing on the partly open door, the smell of Sweetpea blows in, mixing with Hoseok’s lilac, Jungkook’s snickerdoodle, Taehyung’s ebony, Yoongi’s petrichor, Jimin’s oranges, Soekjin’s cherries, and all with the rich undertone of vanilla. 

The scents reminded the Prime Alpha that his mates were at least safe in the packhouse. Namjoon sighed, his body succumbing to sleep while his Alpha settled, a bit more at ease now with the plan that had been made.  

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[rintoshis-archived]

— 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 ft. nanami kento ♡

SYPNOSIS. ''When I'm fucked up, that's the real me, yeah'' You had one too many shots, with the help of your dear friend, Gojo Satoru. You could thank him, too. He hooked you up with one of his friends, Nanami Kento. His fierce and cold attitude, it only made you shiver with fear, but it posed a challenge. How can you make this hell of a man crack? WORD COUNT. 3.7k words PAIRINGS. Nanami x Fem!Reader WARNINGS. semi public sex (bathroom), public teasing, gojo and reader are sluts, mentions of alcoholic drinks, fubu trope with gojo, spanking + slapping (reader receiving), drunk sex, p in v sex, no condom, pussy eating, lmk if there's more. (you're in for a ride) OTHER NOTES. hello hello, I'm back with our nationwide husband, nanami :) enjoy this one || header art credits: @/oretsuu on X, mdni banner by the lovely benkeibear < 3 !

''Are we fucking when we leave the club, or nah?''

You could hear Gojo say from miles away, probably pestering another girl at the bar. You would be lying if you said you weren't looking for some dick, but he's just purely shameless at this point. The girl is sitting on his lap on a barstool, Gojo's tricky hands slipping under her dress. Vile, you thought.

It's not like you haven't experienced these things either, you weren't new to this ''City girl'' lifestyle. Sure, you've fucked around in a few bathrooms and storage rooms, but being out in public is just crazy. ''You have my number,'' the girl said, hopping off his lap. ''Give me a call, yeah?'' She walked away, an empty glass clasped in her hands.

Those cheap fake nails would fall off even before she gets a chance to touch Gojo's cock. You were Gojo's best friend, and vice versa. You let him meet your friends, and he lets you fuck around with his friends, too.

Some may say that it's a ''friends with benefits'' type of friendship, and it's true. You could fall for your best friend easily. But tonight, you're not out to look for true love. This time, you wanna forget.

You wanna forget about your problems, and once you enter the bright and erotic environment with beaming lights, you forget everything you know easily.

You walk up to Gojo, drinking up another shot. '''Toru.'' You say, taking the seat beside him. He drops his glass and removes his tinted shades just to take in your appearance. ''Hey, sugar. What'cha doing here?'' He didn't have to, but he recognized your voice even with his eyes closed.

''Nothing.'' You mutter, and he laughed at you. He didn't know exactly what you were doing here, but he knows you'll only end up doing the same thing over and over again. ''You wanna take home another man who can't last 15 seconds, darling?'' He beckons over the barista, asking to fill his glass.

''I'm right here, doll.'' Satoru teases, his hand landing on your thigh. ''I'm not one of your girls, 'Toru.'' You say, but letting his hand rest on your skin, his rings and bracelets indenting a cold feeling. ''Whatever, your loss.'' He jokes as the barista comes back with his glass filled.

Your hands grab it before he gets the chance to even smell it, and down it immediately. Gojo smiles at you and shoos away the barista. ''Someone's pretty sad tonight.''

He grabs his phone out of his pocket, the brightness of his phone lighting up his ocean eyes. Not gonna lie, if you aren't careful enough, you could actually fall for this man. ''And I know exactly what'll cheer 'ya up,'' Satoru says, his smile growing as a text conversation appears on his phone.

You roll your eyes, not really getting what he meant. But whatever it is, you knew Gojo knew the best for you.

Suddenly, Gojo rose up from his seat and took your hand. ''Alright let's go.'' He said, and you frowned. ''What the hell? I haven't even spent an hour yet!'' You tried fighting his grip on your hand but you couldn't. In the end, you gave up with your heels clacking on the floor

Satoru's eyes scanned the room, looking like he was looking for someone. ''What are you doing?'' You ask, curiously looking for no one in the crowd.

''Has anyone caught your eye?'' Gojo asks, his hands reaching down his pocket to put his black shades back on. Your eyes sweep the floor, looking for a meal tonight. You never find someone interesting just from one look. You didn't believe in love at first sight or cupid, but the lonesome man in the corner on his phone, drinking whisky- there, that's the one you want.

You didn't like boys who were younger than you, from your experience, they all seemed like amateurs. But, when it comes to a man who knew how to work a girl, hits differently. There's just something about this man, something so chilly that made you wanna break it.

''Blondie over there, that's mine.'' You say, smirking at Satoru who looks overjoyed. You were confused, it's as if he was hoping you would choose him, but whatever. Gojo knew your taste, and you were happy.

''Good girl.'' He says suddenly, and he walks over to the solitary man.

After a few minutes of walking through sweaty and smelly bodies in the pit of people on the dance floor, you make it to the 3rd bar of the club, where Mr. Hottie is sitting at.

''Nanamin! You made it.'' You froze. This fucker knew him all along? ''Gojo. What's this 'emergency' you were speaking of? And, it's Nanami.'' Fuck. His voice. You were melting from his chiseled face, big biceps, and the way he dressed, God he had you gobsmacked. You blink and step up to him.

''Y/N, Nice to meet you.'' You smile at him, his eyes trail over to your face, and down to your feet. You were never one to be embarrassed to wear whatever you wanted, but his eyes made you shiver from nervousness immediately. Just my fucking type, you thought.

He offers his hand, decorated with a watch. You accept his hand, feeling his rough skin on yours. You sneakily check his fingers, empty. You celebrated a little in your head and shook his hand, thank God you won't have to deal with another scandal.

''Nanami, you probably heard.'' You giggle a little and Gojo was already sitting on Nanami's left side, as you take the empty seat on his right. You try to stir up a conversation, ''Yeah, what 'emergency' were you on about, 'Toru?'' Nanami's eyebrows curved at the nickname.

''You would've come here nonetheless, Nanamin.'' Gojo joked as he asked the barista for a drink. ''False. I wouldn't have come here if you didn't disturb me from my work,'' Nanami raises two fingers as a signal to the barista for two. ''Oh? What work, Nanami?'' Nanami only stared at you, dissecting everything your body could offer.

You leaned back in your seat, giving him a good view, swinging your leg over the other. ''I'd prefer you call me Kento,'' Gojo smirked, his plan going smoothly but carefully.

It didn't take a while for girls to start crowding around Satoru, girls with their tits almost spilling out their dresses. You scoff, but Nanami paid it no attention. He's used to it, huh? You thought. Maybe you should hang around Gojo more, so you would be more unphased by bullshit.

''I better be going, I'll leave you two.'' The ''heartthrob'' sat up from his seat and entertained the mob of girls. ''Your drink?'' Nanami asks. ''Those are for you two. On me.'' Gojo finally left and you smiled to yourself. ''He won't ever change, huh?'' You pop a joke, taking a sip from your beverage.

''Now that he's gone, I hope he never does. Even though I wouldn't admit it myself.'' Nanami didn't drink whatever Satoru told the barista. Instead, he took the decorative flower from the side of the cup and twirled the stem of it in between his fingers.

''You seem young. What are you doing hanging around a man like him?'' You were flattered, honestly. A lot of people have told you that you looked like you were in your early 20s. In truth, you weren't that far from Gojo's age.

''Why thank you.'' You smile at him, taking another drink. ''Well, be it no surprise, I'm almost the same age as the lunatic over there.'' Your eyes point in Satoru's direction, where a girl is bent over in front of him, while others are feeling him up. You earned a small chuckle from the man in front of you.

All you really wanted was to get fucked dumb by Mr.Hulk over here. But, you knew he wasn't a sex-crazed boy who would fuck any loose hole he could fit his cock in.

''You didn't answer my question, Kento.'' You say, finally setting down your drink to give him your full attention. ''I work at the same place as your best friend does,'' Nanami answered, but you needed details.

You can't just survey a man you just met. 'Where do you live? Do you have a girlfriend? How many exes do you have? Are you a virgin?' No, that's weird.

An idea emerged in your head, a classic. ''Hey, let's play a game.'' His expression didn't change, but his body faced towards you, seeming intrigued. ''Two truths and one lie. You have to take a shot for every guess you get wrong.'' ''Simple enough.'' He added.

''I'll start then.'' You say, taking a shot glass from the stand, filling it up with Bacardi, and passing it to him. ''Alright. I work at a hospital. I hate going out. I enjoy clothes designing.'' You say, staring at his face while trying to figure you out, like a puzzle.

You purposely smiled at him, confusing him further. But, he doesn't budge, he looks like he's got you all figured out. ''Well, the lie was that you hated going out, is that right?'' You put your hands together to clap for him, even though you went easy on him.

''You work at a hospital?'' Nanami asked, seeming genuinely curious, and you understand. Who would've thought a nurse in the day would become a party hopper every night.

''Yeah. Surprisingly enough.'' You took the shot as a penalty for failing to trick him. ''That's amazing.'' You were happy he acknowledged your hard work, but now it's his turn.

You weren't gonna lie, your eyes were turning a little blurry and your head was starting to spin. You put your head in your hands as you await his answer. ''I was once a salaryman. I hate bread. I love mentoring students.'' You were thinking.

Not about his question, of course.

''The lie was that you were once a salaryman?'' You ask, confused. Trying to read his expression, you find nothing. Not a muscle- even an inch moved. ''The lie was that I hated bread.'' He said, skillfully flicking the glass to you with his index finger.

''I was a salaryman, but I changed paths.'' You drank the liquid, quite numb to the burning sensation you would feel in your throat. ''I left my original job to be a salaryman, but came back soon after I-'' ''My turn.'' You interrupt.

This was going too slow, and you were getting bored. You needed him right now, and this kid's game isn't helping you to get used like a toy by him.

You originally had planned to know more about him, but the alcohol is taking over your sentiece and is talking for you. Nanami's mouth curved into a small smile, almost invisible to the naked eye. ''I was fired at my old job, I'm a virgin...

And I want you right now.''

You look at him through your lashes, awaiting his next move. He didn't seem surprised at all, despite the bomb you had just dropped on him right now. The salaryman's smile only grew wider at your divulgence. ''You better be careful,'' Nanami said, pouring more into your glass.

''Don't start something you can't finish.'' He adds.

You grow curious. ''What are you suggesting, sir?'' You play innocent, drawing circles with your wrist with your glass in hand, swirling the alcohol around. Nanami's eyebrows raise, the sudden change of demeanor catching him off guard.

''Curiosity kills the cat.'' You pout at his words. You didn't expect him to be this dead to the world, unless...

He knows your tricks and he's playing with you. Damn. You curse in your head.

You're starting to get tired of this. You were willing to settle for a man who could only last 15 seconds- just to get rid of this stupid feeling. You weren't an animal in heat that just went to clubs and get rammed by random dudes, but this was boring you.

Who were you to blame? You were getting played at your own game. Someone could come over and crown you as ''The sore loser of the night''.

You drank the last stein, and picked up your purse. ''Game's over.'' You set the empty glass on the table and adjusted your skirt down to your mid-thigh, preparing to leave and go fuck around somewhere else.

This is another reason you didn't believe in cupid. Especially when the son of a bitch is Gojo Satoru. You kinda wish you had his bow so you could pierce an arrow through his skull, maybe then would he have good ideas.

You attempt to step away, but got pulled back into your seat. ''I haven't made my guess yet, you princess.''

Did his voice get deeper or are you getting fucked in the head?

Even though you didn't like getting pushed around and doing shit you didn't want to, the way his hand just swallows your wrist and the veins- God the veins.

''Are you listening?'' Nanami gave you a chuckle. Was he making fun of you? ''You're making this too easy for me, sweetheart.'' He says, his hand letting go of your wrist, trailing to the necklace you had wrapped around your neck, and starting playing with the cold metal.

''Easy? How?'' Your eyes narrow, first he was laughing at you, and he's basically saying you gave the answer away.

Well, you did. That was a last-ditch effort to get this man to crack, but it didn't work. So fuck that. ''Your thighs are shaking.'' You didn't even notice his free hand on your tights, caging your thigh in his large hands.

''J-Just get this over with.'' It's the alcohol, you swear. It's not the effect this man had on you. ''The lie was that you're a virgin.'' His other hand let go of your necklace and seized your throat as his now occupied hand took the filled glass.

''Open up, sweetheart.'' His finger pulled your lower lip down, beckoning you to open up your mouth. You oblige, as he poured the liquid into your mouth, the hand on your neck massaging the sides of your throat. ''Good fucking girl.''

You close your eyes, trying to feel if all of this was real. The moment the alcohol stopped dripping into your mouth, you open them, seeing Nanami slightly smirking at your appearance.

Some of it spilled down your chin and onto his hands, but when you tried to wipe it off, he swatted your hand away. ''Lick it off.'' He said, offering his dirty hand to you, facing it towards your needy mouth.

You didn't hesitate, but your hands slowly took his, and licked the excess off of his hands, making sure to clean it up nicely. Nanami let out a low grunt, feeling your hot tongue on the surface of his hand.

''Fuck, let's go.'' Nanami pulled out a few dollars out of his pocket, which looked like a 20 bill. He slid it to the barista and she gave him a quick nod as a sign of thank you. You smirked, the action only adding to your arousal.

Nanami led you to an empty stall in the bathroom, pushing you against the wall of the cubicle, your leg wrapping around his waist. Your hands tangle in his hair at the back of his head, pulling him into you.

You kissed him passionately, as your free hand made work into unbuttoning his dress shirt, feeling his hard abs over the fabric. You could almost moan, and you haven't even touched him fully yet. His tongue was dominating yours, fully tasting everything your mouth had to offer.

His hand trailed to your ass, giving it a hard squeeze and landing a small spank. You squeal into his mouth, while he smiled into your mouth, enjoying your sounds more than he expected. His fingers slip under your skirt, pulling down your tights and feeling your wet heat over the cotton of your panties.

''N-Nanami-'' You fail to speak, his mouth not letting you mutter any other words. His fingers hook under your underwear and move them to the side. His thumb toying with your needy clit.

You moan into his mouth, back arching. Your hand unzips his slacks, not even caring to take off his belt. Your hands find the opening of his boxers, and let his cock spring free.

Nanami let out a grunt, as you started to palm his dick. He finally pulls away from your swollen lips, admiring the work he did. ''Beautiful.'' He said, unbuttoning your shirt, exposing your cleavage. His hand grabbed your tit and let it spill out of your bra and shirt.

You turn your head away from his stare, but his hand quickly grabs your chin and places your head back to its original position.

''Look at me while I make this needy pussy feel good, baby.''

Nanami kneeled in front of you, placing your leg on his shoulder, while the other was still on the floor as his hand hooked around it, keeping you glued into your place.

His free hand pulled your panties down with your tights, fully exposing your wet pussy to him. His mouth almost watered at the sight, and buried his face in between your thighs, lapping up your essence with his tongue. Your hand covers your mouth, a weak attempt to not let any sound escape.

Nanami's mouth was busy, but his other hand wasn't. His hand unlaced his tie with one motion, the sight of his hands making you clench over nothing. You swore you felt him smirk against your pussy. His eyes looked up to you while he offered the tie to you, and you knew exactly what he wanted you to do.

You put the tie in your mouth, while his teeth lightly bit your clit, making you jerk in response. The slight twinge of pain and pleasure drove you fucking crazy.

His fingers entered your cunt, curling into the spot that made you mad. You bit down on the tie, trying to hold in your noise. You grinded into his fingers, needing and begging for more. ''More...'' Even though he probably didn't understand it, the more your moans grew louder, he knew you became more and more desperate.

His cock was leaking precum, already wanting to replace his fingers inside of you. Your hands tangled into his hair, pulling him closer to your cunt, while his mouth worked magic into sucking your clit in between his teeth.

You were gonna cum, fuck you were gonna cum. ''Gonna- mm- cum 'fo me, princess?'' He asked you, while his mouth was still busy with sucking up all of your juices. You nod for him, your climax edging closer and closer.

''Cum- fuck, cum for me, let me see how pretty you get when I make you feel like you're in the heavens.''

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, as his fingers curl one last time, your orgasm hitting you like a bus. Your thighs were already shaking, and you almost collapsed as you released all over Nanami's face.

His eyes didn't leave your face, firmly observing the way your face turns into when you cum. He didn't waste a drop, as his tongue licked all of what you gave him.

He took your trembling thigh off of his shoulder and wrapped both around his waist, pushing you up into the wall. ''Fuck, look at what you do to me.'' His cock was throbbing, rubbing himself in your pooling heat.

''Hurry up...'' Your words came out as a whisper, but he stopped, his dick resting on top of your pussy. ''Don't tell me...'' He took his cock in his hands and aligned it to your entrance, collecting your juices on the tip. ''What...'' He pushes himself in,'' To..'' deeper, ''Do.'' and deeper.

Your moan gets trapped by his tie, while your nails are digging into the muscle on his back. He groans at the crescents growing on his skin, surely going to bleed.

His hips roll like a pornstar, while his hands grope your ass. ''Kento!'' Your words were almost inaudible, as he thrusted faster into you. Your hands took the tie out of your mouth and pulled him into a kiss.

You could taste yourself on his tongue, while he ravaged you completely. Everything was moving so fast. It felt like you were just sitting across the man making you see stars right now. The previous headache you got from the alcohol dissipated immediately.

''C-Cum-'' Was the only thing you could manage to let out, as his tongue entangled with yours. His hands landed another spank on your ass, for sure going to leave a handprint.

Suddenly, Nanami pulls away and stops his hips. You frown at his action.

His hand which was on your ass, moved to your face, landing a slap on your cheek. ''Who's been a good girl?'' Slap. You didn't answer at first, the pain stinging on your cheek.

''Answer.'' Slap. ''Me!'' You answer quickly. Slap. ''Who's the prettiest girl in this building?'' Slap. ''M-Me.'' Your cheek must be red already, the heavy but restrained slaps turning you on but than you expect.

''And who's gonna cum tonight?'' Slap. ''Me...'' You say, as he kissed your red cheek as a reward, and snapped his hips into you, his length reaching deeper in your hot cunny. Your eyes close, feeling your climax inch closer and closer.

Nanami kisses your neck, leaving bites and sucking hickies. ''Fuck, 'M cumming.'' Nanami buries his face into your neck, savoring your scent.

His hips stutter, hesitating whether he is going to release inside of you or pull out, but your legs wrap around his waist, caging him in. Your mind was melting, the lingering smell of his cologne only made you dizzier.

He squeezed your ass, emptying his load inside of your tight cunt, drowning it in white. He raises his head from your neck, eyeing the mess on your face. Smudged mascara, messy lipstick, your hair almost messy- but it looked perfect to him. It was a sight that deserved to be plastered onto his bedroom ceiling.

Your hands run in his scalp, brushing all of the hair stuck on his forehead away. His lips crashed onto yours, but you heard a knock on the stall.

''Ya done? The club's closed, lovebirds.'' Gojo said.

wowow feels good to b back!!! i love taking on big projects like this so i can get back ti writing. anyways, love you. take care ... ‧₊˚ ⋅ fusaes 2023 do not copy

[itadores]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐅𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆

synopsis: you like buying little gifts for your boyfriend. it only makes sense for you to buy him a photo-card of his favorite idol when you come across it in a JPOP store.

note: my silly guy <3 haven’t written in ages so i’m a bit rusty

pairing: tōdō aoi x gn!reader

word count: 2.2k

tags: gender neutral reader, fluff, established relationship, petnames (tōdō calls reader babe, reader calls him baby), reader’s love language is gift giving, tōdō is bit of an overdramatic crybaby (affectionate)

You happen across the store as you’re walking through the shopping center that you typically frequent. It’s a new shop if the banner with the words “Grand Opening!” printed in bold block letters was anything to go by. However, the banner is not what originally caught your eye as you were passing through. It’s the name of the place itself that did: JPOPTOWN. Admittedly, you’re not an avid fan of JPOP, moreso a casual enjoyer, but your partner on the other hand…is a very big fan. Very. Honestly, Tōdō is the main reason why you know what you do about JPOP.

You make the quick decision to enter the store, simply out of curiosity for what it may hold within its walls. Maybe, you can find something to buy for your boyfriend. As soon as the door slides open, a catchy tune croons out from the speakers scattered throughout the store. You recognize it as one of the top trending JPOP songs at the moment, having heard it numerous times over the radio or in other shops. Your eyes rove over the walls and shelves of the store, unsure of where to start your journey now that you’re inside. There’s simply so much merchandise of various JPOP artists lining every space of the store that you’re a bit overwhelmed at first.

However, once your gaze lands on an idol more than familiar to you, you immediately gravitate towards the section, your feet leading you to the area solely dedicated to your boyfriend’s favorite idol: Takada-chan. You idly peruse the numerous shelves full of her merchandise, looking over what sort of items they carry. A lot of what the store offers are items that your boyfriend already owns, which makes you deflate a bit.

You were excited to see what this store held within once you had gotten a glimpse of its name in hopes that you could buy a little something to surprise your boyfriend with. Not for any sort of special occasion, but you enjoy surprising Tōdō with little things when you could. His reaction whenever you present him with some trinket or snack is one of your favorite things in the world, especially since he’s always so animated. You would think he’s playing it up to boost your ego with how overdramatic he can be, but you know that your boyfriend is simply like that.

You feel nearly defeated, ready to leave the store empty handed until you see something in your peripheral vision that makes you instantly perk up. There’s a plain binder propped open in the midst of a sea of Takada-chan merch, displaying an array of photo-cards of her.

Tōdō already has quite a few of her photo-cards, even carrying one in his wallet alongside a picture of you, but his collection of her photo-cards is small in comparison to the rest of her other merchandise that he's amassed throughout the years. You only hope that you can find a photo-card that he doesn't already have and doesn't break the bank for you.

You carefully flip through the plastic sleeves containing the photo-cards. You'd hate to accidentally damage them in any way. Tōdō was too rough once, too excited at the prospect of purchasing a Takada-chan photo-card, that he accidentally damaged a whole sleeve full of them. The amount he had to pay in damages that day makes you shudder just thinking about it.

Your eyes scan over the photo-cards as you try and recall which photo-cards Tōdō already has in his possession.

He already has this one, already has that one, already has this one too…

Your eyes light up when they land on one that you know he doesn't have yet, and if you're remembering correctly, he mentioned wanting this one as well. You're pretty sure he shoved his phone in your face to show you how another photo-card collector had it in their possession, but wasn't willing to trade or sell it to him no matter how much he flooded their DMs with vague threats. He ended up blocked after that.

You’re even more delighted when you read the little white sticker with the price in the corner of the plastic sleeve and realize the photo-card is well-within your budget for a little gift for your boyfriend. With the utmost caution, you gently slip the photo-card out of its slot from within the binder, cradling it carefully in your palm. Once you’re sure the photo-card is safely in your possession, you lift your head up, craning your neck around as you search for the photo-card holder area of the store.

As soon as you spot it, you make your way over. Presented with so many options, you’re now faced with the difficult decision of what photo-card holder you should buy for Tōdō. He’ll be pleased with anything you get him, but you want him to like what you get him, not because it simply came from me, but because he genuinely likes it. That means you need to find something that you (and Tōdō) will find cute but not overwhelmingly so.

You stand there for awhile, mentally comparing and contrasting photo-card holder versus photo-card holder until you finally decide on one that you think will suffice. You pluck your chosen photo-card holder from where it's hanging on the wall, turning it over and over in your hand, inspecting to make sure it's in perfect condition. It's a soft plastic photo-card holder with black stars of varying sizes covering the front's borders and the entirety of the back. It's simplistic enough, but still cute, meaning that Tōdō will (hopefully) like it.

After making sure once more that the photo-card holder and the photo-card itself are in pristine condition, you make your way over to the cashier, paying once it's your turn to check out and then exiting the store, more than satisfied with your unexpected purchase. Giddiness floods your system as the door to the shop closes behind you. You can't wait to surprise Tōdō.

With your free hand, you dig your phone out of your pocket, opening the messaging app to shoot your boyfriend a quick text, asking if you can swing by his place in an hour. You don't even have a chance to exit out of the application before you receive a response from him.

aoi ♡ : Is that even a question? You're free to come over always.

You huff. Of course your boyfriend would say something like that. If it was up to Tōdō, you would probably never leave his place. You quickly reply back, informing him that it’s polite to ask and that you’ll be over soon before closing the app and slipping your phone back into your pocket. You readjust your grip on the bag containing the goodies for your boyfriend. A small smile graces your lips.

Time for you to make your way to Tōdō’s now.

The commute to Tōdō’s place doesn’t take long, and sooner than you know it, you’re at his front door. You raise a fist to knock, startling when the door swings open right before your fist can make contact. You place a hand over your chest, willing your racing heart to slow before tossing a glare at the offender standing in the doorway.

“Aoi, you scared me half to death!”

“Sorry,” he responds, entirely non-apologetic as a grin spreads across his face. He takes a step towards you, bundling you up in his arms in one easy swoop. You make an undignified sound at the sudden action, but you quickly relax in Tōdō’s hold. The familiar and comforting scent of his cologne infiltrates your senses, and you can’t help but squeeze him a little tighter. “I missed you babe.”

You laugh lightly, pulling away so you can look at Tōdō, who still has a wide grin on his face. “We just saw each other earlier this week, Aoi.”

“And? I can’t miss you when you’re not around?” The corner of his lips pull into a frown, prompting you to playfully roll your eyes.

You sympathetically pat him on the bicep. “Of course you can.”

When you’re met with nothing but an expectant look, you squeeze Tōdō’s bicep and huff in slight amusement. “And I obviously missed you as well. How could I not miss my lovely boyfriend after spending so much time apart?” Your hand glides up from Tōdō’s bicep to gently caress his cheek, which he leans into. Your lips curl into a small smile.

You may be teasing Tōdō, but you did truly miss him as well. The two of you stand there for a bit just enjoying the moment.

“Now, are you going to invite me in or are we going to spend all day out on your doorstep?”

Your words quickly spur Tōdō into action. He grabs the hand resting on his face and entwines it with his own, dragging you inside his place. You stumble a bit (Tōdō sometimes forgets his own strength), but you manage to regain your balance as the door closes behind you both.

Much to Tōdō’s dismay, you let go of his hand to take off your shoes, placing them on the shoe rack before sliding on the slippers designated as yours. They’re of a silly pattern, but Tōdō insisted on getting matching pairs, and well. Who are you to deny him?

“What’s in the bag?” Tōdō questions, pointing a finger at the bag in your hand as he follows you into the living room area of his apartment.

You plop down onto the couch, tucking your feet beneath you before patting the cushion right beside you. Tōdō sits down next to you, his thigh pressing against yours and an arm around the back of the couch.

“A surprise,” you simply say.

His eyes light up.

“For me?”

You huff. You consider teasing Tōdō, but you nod, replying “Yes, for you, baby.”

He crowds into your space, nearly squishing you against the arm of the couch. His eyes shine brightly with unbridled excitement. “Can I open it right now?”

You hold the bag up between you. “Go ahead, baby.” Before Tōdō can grab the bag from your hand, you warn him, “It’s nothing too big, so don’t get too excited.”

He rolls his eyes as he takes the bag from you. “I’ll cherish anything you get me no matter how big nor how small it may be.”

“Okay Romeo, go ahead and open your gift then.” You wave your hand, urging him to open the bag. Although you did give Tōdō a warning that you didn’t get him anything too big, you have a strong feeling that he’ll like what you got him.

It doesn’t take Tōdō long to open the bag. As soon as his eyes land on its contents and his brain processes what he’s looking at, he makes a noise that sounds almost like a squeal. His hands are shaking as he carefully takes out the Takada-chan photo-card and the accompanying photo-card holder out of the bag. The plastic bag drifts to the floor, now forgotten.

When Tōdō finally tears his eyes away from the photo-card that he’s cradling oh so gently to look at you, his eyes are shiny with wetness. His lower lip wobbles.

“Babe, have I told you that I love you and that you’re the best partner a man could ever ask for?”

You smile, reaching out to place a hand around the back of Tōdō’s neck. “I’m glad you like your little gift, Aoi.”

His eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. “Babe, I love it. Are you kidding me? I’ve been trying to trade or buy this photo-card for so long now. I can’t believe you found it.”

Tōdō carefully places the photo-card and the photo-card holder you’ve bought for him on the table in front of the couch before turning back towards you to engulf you in a tight hug. You yelp as you're suddenly pushed back onto the couch. Your hands cling to Tōdō's shoulders as he slides a hand behind your head to make sure you don't bump it against the arm of the couch.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he repeats over and over, littering kisses wherever he can on your bare skin. He presses his lips to your neck in chaste kisses before moving onto your face, kissing your forehead, nose, and cheeks over and over before he finally presses a kiss to your lips.

"Thanks, babe." He says once more, pressing another kiss to your lips. You slide your arms from his shoulders to wrap them around his neck, pulling him closer to you. Tōdō bends to your will, but is careful to not crush you beneath his weight.

You lean up to kiss him this time, and he chases your lips when you pull away, making you giggle lightly.

"Anything for you, Aoi," you softly say. You're sure that you have a terribly lovesick expression on your face, but Tōdō isn't faring much better. A small smile tugs at your lips.

You'll gladly buy Tōdō little gifts for the rest of your lives if it means you'll get a reaction like this from him every time.

[ellethespaceunicorn]

🧚🏻‍♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must share a hoe drabble about:

Landlord!Ari + being caught watching you while you sleep

Well, it took me a couple of days but I did it!! Oh, and it's the longest drabble in the world. Did y'all know a drabble is only 100 words???? I thought it was 100-500...I still wrote way more than that, but still.

Title: No Good Deeds

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Landlord!Ari Levinson x Reader

Word Count: 1.6K

Summary: Moving out on your own is challenging, but your landlord, Mr. Levinson is kind and helpful. But he may want more from you than your tenancy.

Prompt: Landlord!Ari + being caught watching you while you sleep

Warnings: age gap (Ari is mid-40s, Reader is early-20s), yandere Ari, drugging, non-con fingering (f receiving), non-con p-in-v intercourse, non-con creampie, choking, dead dove: do not eat

A/N: Hahahaha this was supposed to be a drabble. Thank you to @peyton-warren for the beta!

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

Moving out on your own isn’t exactly the easiest thing for you. You spent four years living in your college dormitory, but you always had at least one roommate. So, signing a lease and accepting the single set of keys was a huge accomplishment.

Your landlord, Mr. Levinson, is so great. He told you to call him Ari more than once. From the first tour of the apartment to the day of your move-in, he offers his help in many ways. Where the best farmer’s market is, how to reach him if you need any repairs, and even when the local bars close are just a few tidbits he leaves you with.

You get to know him a bit more during a block party one Saturday night. The two of you talk over cheap beer, tamales from Señora Cruz, smoked brisket from Mr. Lorenzo, and lasagna from Mrs. Di Paolo. Ari seems like he is lonely, and your kind heart can’t stand to see someone in need. 

Before you know what you are getting into, you agree to have a weekly tea date with him. It’s during one of those visits that you realize that something is a bit odd about Ari. He tries to cover up how he knows what cabinet you keep your tea in, but he makes up some dumb excuse that it would just be “the perfect spot”.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom as he busies himself with setting the tea, and when you come back, a steaming mug is waiting for you on a saucer on your coffee table. Usually, you make the tea, but Ari wanted to help out, and you had a long day at work, so you accepted.

“What is in this tea? It’s almost spicy,” you ask, taking another big gulp of the tea you don’t recognize.

“Is it spicy? Well, it does have ginger and cinnamon in it. Some chamomile, too. A little benzodiazepine in there,” Ari clambers on, trailing off at the end.

“D-did you say benzo…dia…zep,” you slur, reaching for Ari as you sit on the couch, but you end up passing out with your head in his lap.

When you come to, you struggle to remember what happened. Your heavy head pounds as you turn it to the side before putting the heel of your hand to your still-closed eyes.

“Take it slow, Bunny. You must’ve been really tired,” he consoles, from the other side of your bed.

“Mr. Levin-”

“Uhn uh. Call me Ari; no more of that Mr. Levinson polite shit, ok?” he swears for the first time in your presence.

“Um, Ari… What are you doing in my bedroom?” you ask, your mind a blank slate from earlier.

“Oh, Bunny. You invited me over for tea, and then you weren’t feeling well, and you asked me to stay until you felt better. Next thing I know, I’m carrying you in here because you fell asleep on me with that sweet little face of yours right in my lap,” he comforts, the knuckles of his hand sliding down your face before he boops your nose.

“Why do you keep calling me Bunny?” you mewl, still trying to get in control of all your limbs.

“When you sleep, you furrow your eyebrows and scrunch up your nose like a little bunny. It’s one of the cutest things you do,” he admires, his hand now moving down your neck and through the valley of your breasts to get to where your skirt rides up your thigh.

“Mr.-Ari…I think I feel better now; you don’t have to-” 

Your words are cut off when Ari reaches under your skirt, and you specifically remember having on panties earlier today, but his fingers are touching your tender pussy directly. Did he take off your underwear?

“Fuck, you’re so wet. Must’ve been all that time I spent rubbing your cute little cunt through those white cotton panties. God, those little moans you were making went straight to my cock, Bunny. Feel it,” he dares, grabbing your hand and resting it against the thick outline of his dick through his Wranglers. 

While your hand is on his length, he shoves two of his fingers into your wet heat. At first, you are surprised by the shock of it. But soon, you can tell that he knows how to work your body. You scream out his name, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, he shoves one hand over your mouth and gets close to your ear.

“You’re not gonna ruin this for me. You have been parading yourself around here like you’re some holier-than-thou sweet little thing. And I knew you’d end up letting me smash at some point. But I didn’t wanna wait anymore, Bunny. You have had me wrapped around that little finger of yours since you moved in. It’s time that I get what’s owed to me-what you’ve been flaunting in front of me,” he sneers, pulling his fingers out of you and sucking them clean before opening his pants and pulling his dick out.

He lines up with your sodden core before thrusting in with no grace or elegance. Slamming himself inside your tight snatch for the first time feels like he is splitting you in two. You’re no virgin, but you also don’t have much casual sex, so Ari’s thickness was a shock, to say the least.

“Sweet Bunny, you’re so tight. What a good girl! You’ve been waiting for me like I’ve been waiting for you, huh? Fuck, you’re like a fucking vice. You hear that, Bunny? Hear how that cunt loves it when I fuck it? Love that loud, sloshy pussy,” he beams, his wide hips between your legs making your joints hurt.

You’re in stunned silence as Ari uses your body to chase his release. Your mind is bringing up all the times it seemed like he was getting a little too close for comfort. All the times when he would talk to you about his divorce, or his current dating trend, or the fact that he once told you that a pretty thing like you belonged locked up in a tower for a prince to come and free you.

Did he think he was a charming prince?

“Oh, Bunny, fuck, I’m not gonna last much longer. Look at me; wanna see your eyes when I cum inside you,” he blurts, holding your face in his hands as you look into his dilated, hungry eyes. “Take it. Just. Like. That.” The last few words are punctuated with thrusts as he paints your walls with thick, milky ropes.

Once he closes his eyes, his hips remain still, and his forehead meets yours. This would be almost romantic if Ari didn’t make it beyond creepy by whispering how perfect you are and peppering kisses all over your face. His softening cock finally slips free from you, and you are happy to be empty until you feel the flow of his semen leaking from you. He notices your discomfort and mocks your whines as he pushes his jizz back into your swollen hole.

“Don’t worry, Bunny,” he starts, moving off of you to recline next to you, “Not gonna leave this bed ‘til you’re knocked up. As soon as you are, I’m gonna move you in with me. You are gonna be well taken care of, too. You are so perfect-every little thing about you. And when the baby comes, we are gonna be the perfect little family. You wouldn’t wanna ruin our family, right? You’re gonna be a good girl for me, huh?” he implores, holding your cheeks in his hand so your lips poke out a bit.

You nod while tears stream from your eyes, finding it hard to form words. But what would you have said? He seems to like you mostly silent; you haven’t uttered a single word since before he was inside you. It wasn’t too late to try, but it was too late to have hope; at least that’s what you told yourself.

“I don’t know about you, but I am starting to get hard again just looking at you. On all fours for me, Bunny. I know you got it in you,” he orders, no kindness in his voice.

You quickly scramble to get on your hands and knees for him and are happy that he is pleased with your speed. As he slides into your sensitive folds again, you grimace but hold in your noises of pain. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of making you hurt, even though what he is doing is traumatizing. He relishes in the gushy sounds your pairing makes and the mighty “oomph” you make when he wraps an arm around your neck and flattens you down to your belly.

He has you in a chokehold while his hips canter back and forth, plunging his length deeper and deeper inside you. When he hears you start to sputter and gulp in air, he removes his arm from around your neck and holds your face cheek-down on the bed.

“Look at her, taking my cock just like she should. You’ll be the prettiest little wife and mother, won’t you? Gonna keep you nice and round as much as I can. My perfect little Bunny…ugh, fuck,” he blurts, his release surprising him suddenly.

When he pulls out, he smacks your ass and lays down next to you while your life flashes before your eyes. He moves closer to you, readjusting your body to lay on top of his as he rubs your back. He kisses the top of your head in such a kind gesture that you feel your eyes stinging with unshed tears. 

You can’t even bring yourself to fully cry, the tears streaming down your face just to splash on Ari’s denim shirt. Forgotten and dried up to never be seen again.

A/N: This was supposed to be a drabble!!!!

**Tag List**

I also didn't know who to tag since this is the first time I wrote Ari.

[thought--bubble]

All of your senses

Ettore X (Riding Ettore Reader)

Word Count: 2,082

Ettore Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners & Dividers by @arcielee

Based on THIS request

Warnings:: Ettore, Dubcon, smut (PinV unprotected). Male whimpering because I wanted it, and I can! Hehehe

Therapy! Ettore scoffs at the thought. As if therapy could ever help him. As far as he understood himself, he didn't need therapy.

Therapy is something to help a person sort through their emotions. Ettore simply doesn't have any. He does not feel things in his head or his heart. The only feelings he recognizes are physical.

You can't hurt his feelings, but you can break his nose. You can't send his heart a flutter, but you can get him off.

In order to be cleared for that damn space mission in which he would be made part of a co-ed population of inmates, he had to go through therapy and nothing was going to stop him from getting on that ship and once again having access to women.

So, with full fledged irritation and annoyance, he drudged his way down to the prison shrink. A guard flanked him on either side.

He thinks it's a bit dramatic. Yes, he can be violent, but it's actually pretty rare. Only when it serves a purpose and beating down the person who could clear him would be counterproductive to his plans.

When you open the door and beckon him inside, he becomes painfully aware of why the guards are necessary. You're his preferred victim type. A young voluptuous woman, long silky hair, skin-tight pencil skirt, and button-up top. The only thing that can make him lose control.

Ettore walks into the room, the chains connecting his hands to his feet scraping across the floor.

"Hello, Ettore." Your voice makes a shiver run down his spine. He doesn't answer you. Instead, he steps closer and sniffs before one of the guards grabs him and pulls him back, shoving him into a cold metal chair before proceeding to strap his arms and legs down.

Once Ettore is securely fastened to the chair one of the guards turns to you with concern.

" We really should stay. This inmate can not be trusted...... around women"

You chuckle at this. " therapy doesn't work well with an audience. I trust that you have fully secured him?"

"Yes, but-" you stop him with wave of your hand.

"I have full faith that he will stay right where you put him. You can wait outside the room."

The guard mumbles under his breath as he motions for the other guard to follow him out into the hallway. He gives Ettore a final stern look before closing the door, leaving the two of you alone.

You sit down in a plush chair directly across from Ettore with his file in your hand. You had been reading everything the prison had on him for the last week in preparation for this evaluation, and you had a pretty good idea of how he ticked.

"So Ettore. How are you feeling today?" You knew this approach most likely wouldn't work with Ettore. Making him comfortable didn't matter. He wouldn't open up to you just because of some pleasantries. He doesn't know how to open up, and if he did. He still wouldn't.

Ettore stares back at you blankly, his eyes endlessly scrolling the length of your form, yet never looking into your eyes.

It's carnal, the ache he feels inside at the sight of your soft skin. His fingers twitching around the arm of the chair. He wants to touch you. He needs to touch you.

"Why don't we start with your childhood. Your file says your mother died when you were young and you were left with your father, who may have had a bit of a drinking problem." If your words were affecting Ettore, you would never know by looking at him.

His eyes continued to ravish you from your neck to your knees. His heart pounding in his ears. What he needs is right there in front of him, yet just out of reach. He once again fights subtly against his restraints. The inability to move suffocating and controlling his every thought.

"Losing your mother so young, coupled with the nature of your crimes. It's my belief that you are in need of a gentle touch." Ettore finally lifts his eyes to meet yours, and you smile back at him.

Touch? His favorite word. Not care, support, or love, as all the other therapists have deamed. No. You used the word touch, the simple phrase having the desired effect.

You stand from your chair and step toward him slowly, his eyes darting down to your legs watching each step.

"Something ....... soft. " You walk up to the side of Ettore's chair and gently graze his cheek with your finger. You can see his arms and wrists fighting against his restraints, and you chuckle.

Ettore's eyes darken at the sound. How lucky you are that he is strapped down to this chair. If he were not, chuckles would not be the sound to come from that pretty little throat.

"Oh, no need to worry." You lean down and bring your mouth right up next to his ear and whisper, "I'll be gentle."

"I won't be." He growls in response, his patience waning. This challenge to his dominance is not something he likes or is willing to accept.

From this angle, you couldn't see his face only the back of his neck where the hairs stood on end, his breathing controlled and heavy.

"You will." You coo in his ear.

You place your hands on the back of the chair, one over each of his shoulders, and bring your mouth close to the nape of his neck. Just gently breathing, letting him feel the ghost of a touch across his skin.

"I'll teach you"

You enjoy watching his response. The tightening of his shoulders the flex in his bicep as he pulls and pulls against his restraints with no hope of getting loose.

"You need some tenderness. That's all. " You walk back around to the front of his chair, Ettore looks up at you, rage clearly written across his face.

A caged animal. Face to face with his prey and unable to act upon his most primal desires.

You hike your pencil skirt up to your mid thighs, and Ettore's eyes instantly drop. The look of anger quickly replaced with hunger, his arms again pulling against his restraints.

"Tsk tsk." You gently rub at his wrists. "Stop that silly boy, you're going to hurt yourself."

His eyes flit about your body wildly, and you smile before placing yourself in his lap, your legs straddling either side of his hips.

Automatically, Ettore thrusts his hips up toward you. "No," you gently scold and hold him down by the hips. "Gentle"

Ettore closes his eyes and breathes deep. A predatory grumble rattling in his chest.

"Now, sweet boy." You bring your cheek up to his, the stubble on his face a little coarse against your skin and the tightness in his jaw apparent.

"Relax," You roll your hips against him slowly, his thin prison pants giving away his excitement.

Ettore again desperately pulls against his restraints. You can't have the power here. He can't let you have the power here.

"Stop," you say, voice firm. You bring your hand up to his chin and gently message it with your thumb. You gently tug on his bottom lip before leaning in and placing a soft kiss against his lips. He doesn't reciprocate. The feeling so foreign, so strange.

"Doesn't that feel nice, sweet boy?"You move your hands so that you are cradling his strong jaw. Holding his face so he has no choice but to look at you.

"Just what the doctor ordered, hmm?" You bring your lips down to him again. Slowly pushing your tongue into his mouth. Not aggressive, not passionate.

You move your tongue in his mouth, and you feel him start to kiss back, aggressively at first, but you keep your pace steady and soft.

You bring your hands to the back of his head, tugging briefly on the hair there. You control his movement this way. Too aggressive, you tug him back.

You roll your hips against him again, falling into a steady rhythm.

With his head pulled back and his neck craned completely powerless as you grind yourself against him, he whimpers.

"What was that sweet boy?" You grind yourself harder against his erection and he whimpers louder.

"Tell me" you demand as you again increase the speed and pressure of your movements.

"Please." He finally croaks out, followed by another whimper. "God please"

"Oh, poor thing." You keep his head pulled back and lick a stripe up his neck. "Am I teasing you?"

Ettore groans, and you slightly lift yourself from his lap.

"I don't want to drive you mad." You release his hair, and he looks at you, panic in his eyes.

"No, wait," Ettore tries to reach for you but is trapped by those damn restraints.

"Oh. Don't worry, sweet boy. " You grab his cheeks and squeeze them briefly. "We aren't done"

You reach beneath you and shimmy his pants down just enough to free his cock. His mouth opens slightly at the feeling his eyes glazing over.

"Slow and gentle." You nuzzle your nose to him as he holds his breath.

He looks so desperate. So pathetic. It's so satisfying.

You press the head of his cock to your entrance and sink down just enough so the tip breeches your walls and nothing else.

Ettore instinctually bucks his hips once before you again grab him and hold him in place.

"Tsk tsk," you scold him as you hold him down and slide up and down over just the tip of his throbbing cock.

His body starts shaking so harshly that it's nearly convulsing. It takes your full strength to hold him in place, his hips desperate to move.

"Fuck fuck fuck" He whimpers loudly. "I need it. More. Fuck more!"

"More?" You sink down just a smidge further and watch as Ettore's head lulled, and his eyes started to roll back.

"Ahh!" He clenches his jaw and moves his hips subtly, getting himself just a tiny bit further.

You slide down further, now halfway down his shaft.

"Kiss me nice and gentle like I taught ya" He lifts his head and looks at you with confusion.

"Not moving another inch till ya do," Ettore quickly brings his face to yours. He tentatively kisses you with slow unsure movements.

As the kiss continues, you slide slowly down the rest of his shaft until your ass rests on his thighs and he moans into your mouth.

You smirk, you have an apex predator beneath you, whimpering, moaning, and begging for relief.

"See? So gentle you are. " You softly blow into his ear as you roll your hips slowly.

Ettore gasps at the sensation, his entire body vibrating. He's been in this prison for two years already, with no one but his hand to keep him company.

The pressure builds up in the base of his spine quickly, but he fights the urge to buck his hips, knowing you would stop if he did.

"You wanna cum sweet boy?" He nods a pained expression on his face.

You lean back in and kiss him again, this time with more urgency as you bring your fingers to your clit. The perfect mixture of his soft kisses, your nimble fingers, and his thick cock scraping against your walls bring you over the edge quickly.

As your cunt pulses around him you grip his hair again exposing his neck to you.

"Cum sweet boy. Right now, " He has no choice but to comply he bucks his hips twice and then spills himself inside of you, his mouth wide open and eyes closed.

You kiss him once more, but he is spent, mouth just hanging open lazily. You hop off of him and fix his pants as he smiles up at you, a smug look of satisfaction on his face.

You fix yourself and, without another word, to him open your office door telling the guards to take him back to his cell.

On his way out the door, he keeps his eyes on you, tripping over his shackles and being caught by a guard.

You pay him no mind and quickly close the door behind him and sit down at your desk.

You fill out the sheet you were given approving him for the mission, and of course, suggest a few more therapy sessions before he goes.

To be added to taglists please click Here

[azrielsdove]

Castles Crumbling: Reader x Rhysand

Warnings: Violence, Angst

***

It was never supposed to be like this.

The sounds of screams and blades clashing faded around you as you took in the carnage the battle had bestowed upon your homeland. Bannermen bearing the green banners of the Spring Court rose high around you.

Mistake. Mistake. Mistake.

You turned in a slow circle, noticing the deep purple banners of your own falling. Hardly any remained, small spots of hope drowned out in a sea of green.

You have lost.

You couldn’t help but think back to the fateful moment this war began, to what you could have done to avoided this. Perhaps nothing. Perhaps everything.

***

BEFORE

“High King? They wish for you to rule over Prythian?” You asked your husband, in shock at this news.

“Not just me,” he spoke earnestly, pulling your hands into his, “us. You will reign as High Queen, as my equal.” Your eyes connected to his, worry filling them.

“Husband, they have chosen you, not I. Who is to say they will even accept me? If they even planned for a High Queen?” Already you could see how the fae may react, as they had reacted when he made you High Lady.

Rhysand pulled you closer, arms loosely circling your waist. “Nonsense. They know you serve here in this Court, why should that change? Besides, if I am to be High King they will have to accept my rulings. If I say you are High Queen, so be it.” You sighed deeply, laying your hands flat on his chest.

“You cannot begin your rule by making a claim none wish for. If the fae do not want me I will not contest them,” you spoke plainly. Rhysand frowned, one hand coming up to cup your face.

“They will wish it so. Do not worry yourself over this.” His thumb ran over your cheek, calming your thoughts. You leaned into his touch, a small smile gracing your lips.

“As you command, my King,” you said teasingly, squealing with laughter as Rhysand pulled you closer and peppered kisses to your skin.

“Call me that again.”

***

“All Hail the High King and High Queen!” Boomed through the room, you sitting proudly on your throne next to Rhysand. No fae contested your claim as Queen, the other Courts bowing easily to you. You smiled down upon them now, the golden crown heavy on your head. Rhysand laid one hand over yours, looking out over all you would rule.

“To a new, better, united Prythian!” He shouted out, earning cheers from the fae gathered before you. The energy in the castle was high, everyone excited at what the future would bring. In hindsight you really should have expected peace would not last long. All the Courts High Lords had come to recognize you and Rhysand as the new High King and High Queen, save for one. The Spring Court did not send any well wishes your way. You can’t say you were truly surprised, as the rivalry between Rhysand and Tamlin ran deep. Though you were a bit taken aback, as you hadn’t taken Tamlin for one who would choose to display such a blatant form of disrespect.

It all made sense when the letter arrived.

You stood completely still in front of the grand window in Rhysands office, looking out over the grounds. The two of you had chosen Velaris to be the royal city, opening up the lands to all the Courts. Now that Prythian was unified, fae from all different backgrounds could choose where they wished to reside. It wasn’t lost on you that a few from each Court had moved up here, yet none from Spring. Holding the elegantly written scroll in your hand, you now knew why.

“My love, what ails you on this fine morning?” You turned at the sound of your husband’s voice, clutching the letter tightly.

“Spring has written,” you choked out, “she declares herself High Queen.”

Silence.

And then laughter. “Why would she claim such an absurd thing? That is a joke, wife. Do not fret over the words of someone like that,” Rhysand soothed, placing a gentle hand on your cheek. You shook your head, handing him the letter.

“Read it.”

High King Rhysand of Prythian, we wish to congratulate you on your new title. While our Courts have not always gotten along, we are proud to have such a strong ruler over us now. Forgive our absence at your coronation, as we were not sure how to address the crowning of the False Queen.

You see, Feyre is your mate, is she not? Cauldron made for you. Of course your pairing was not destined to be a love match and you went your separate ways, as we know. I myself have wondered many a night why the Cauldron would have mated the two of you. Now I see why.

Feyre is the true High Queen. She was chosen by the Cauldron for this very purpose. I implore you to have your wife step down so the rightful Queen can rule by your side. If you do not abide by what has clearly been predetermined, I will have no choice but to bring this case to the other fae. All may not agree with me, but enough will. Do you wish war so soon on your lands?

I hope to hear a response promptly. Your rightful Queen will be waiting.

Tamlin, High Queen Feyre’s consort

Rhysand looked up at you, tossing the paper onto his desk before placing his hands on your waist and pulling you in close. “Do not listen to them. The fae have already accepted you as High Queen. There is no official ruling for how this should go. We are the first in this position, if I set it so my wife is queen then so be it. They can try to push for Feyre on the throne, but no fae will uphold it. Do not fret, sweet one. You are the High Queen and that is how it shall remain.”

You looked into his eyes for a long moment before speaking. “What if he is correct? The Cauldron had mated you, perhaps it was for this purpose. Am I to deny the Cauldrons power?”

Rhysand sighed deeply, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “To Hel with the Cauldron. It does not choose what we do with a mating bond, it can only set them. I was given the honor of High King and in doing so I chose my own ways to rule. I would not have deemed you High Queen if I did not believe you would be a grand ruler. Feyre is not cut out for it. Trust me, they will not gain the amount of support they need.”

Doubt clouded your mind, but you nodded in agreement with his words. Rhysand was High King, surely Tamlin and Feyre would not be so foolish as to start a war over this.

***

“He’s recruited his own Court for his cause. I’m receiving threats by the day. Fae are truly believing his words,” Rhys says, addressing the room before him. Azriel, Cassian, Amren, and Mor sit and wait for further instruction. “We need to squash this imminently. This delusion cannot be allowed to be spread around. I have set out to create a land of peace, I will not stand by and allow him to destroy it! We need to send some Illyrians, persuade him to step down with this idea.” You placed a hand on your husband’s shoulder, calming his anger slightly.

“We must not act rashly. Spring will be expecting retaliation. We do not know which of these High Fae truly believe him or which have been threatened to act accordingly. I refuse to become violent rulers so quickly,” you said, squeezing his shoulder gently. He sighed deeply, resting his head on your arm.

“You are right. We must figure out some way to address this peacefully.” Rhys waved a hand at Mor. “You should go, debate with Tamlin and Feyre. Get them to see how they are acting is foolish. You are the best of us at handling stubborn attitudes.” Mor laughs and bows her head.

“I’ve had lots of practice.”

***

MOR

“Welcome to our home, Morrigan. I assume you have come with some plea for peace?” Tamlin taunted, a cold laugh accompanying his words. “We will not step down with our claim. It was a mistake for the High King to send you here.” With a snap of his fingers guards surrounded Mor, weapons drawn. She looked around at them all most unimpressed.

“Now, Tamlin, is this really necessary? I have only come to speak with you. Do you truly believe me to be such a threat?” She widened her eyes and appeared the true picture of delicate innocence, a small pout on her lips. Feyre scoffed from next to Tamlin, shaking her head.

“Don’t act like we are stupid, Morrigan. I assume the High King does not agree with what the Cauldron has decided, as he has sent you to do his dirty work for him.” She stood taller, towering over Mor from her place on the steps. “I am the rightful High Queen, regardless of whatever you believe. You have crowned a phony in my place. Am I to sit by and allow my throne to be taken from me?”

It was Mor’s turn to laugh. “You are more ignorant than I thought. The crown belongs to Rhysand, who chose his wife to be High Queen. You are nothing more than a lady of spring.”

In a heartbeat one of the soldiers had his blade tight against Mor’s neck, restraining her with his other arm. “Enough. I will give you a choice, Morrigan. Pledge your service to the true Queen, and join us on the correct side,” Tamlin said, opening his arms wide. “Or die. The choice is yours.”

Mor looked up at the once peaceful male she knew, when they were all children. She took in the young female next to him, the human girl who saved Rhysand’s life, who saved most of Prythian’s lives.

And then she spat on the ground.

“Kill me then. I’d rather be dead than a traitor.”

Tamlin gave a sympathetic sort of smile. “So be it.”

***

Reader Pov

“THEY KILLED HER! THEY CUT OFF HER HEAD AND SENT IT BACK TO ME!” Rhysand yelled, anguish in his voice. You stood stunned, staring at the bloodied head of your beautiful friend. She had been dropped off with a note from Tamlin.

Such a pity to see this one go.

This is what happens to those who refuse their rightful Queen. Make your choices carefully, High King Rhysand. Your true High Queen awaits you here.

The remaining Inner Circle had been summoned immediately. Cassian had let out a strangled shout when he had seen it, Azriel going deadly cold. Amren said nothing, just focused onto Rhys with those ancient eyes.

“They have officially declared war. We need to gather our allies, and fast. Cassian, you need to go to the Illyrians and make sure they’re with us. Azriel, go to Dawn and Day. Amren, I need you to check on Winter and Summer. No doubt Tamlin already has Autumn on their side, as it’s the closest court to him. He also has Lucien as his closest friend and emissary. We need to secure the support we do have. Can you all handle that?” Rhysand instructed, looking carefully at his family. Azriel gave a curt nod before he was gone in a blink of darkness, not waiting a second more.

“I will go easily. What they have done to her is an act of cruelty I have not seen in many moons. I will not allow our new peace destroyed by tyrants.” Amren kept her cool demeanor, the only sign of her pain was the way her hands were clasped tightly together. Rhys nodded his thanks as she left, before turning to Cassian.

“The Illyrians are sworn not only to the two of you, but to me. I will ensure their armies at your side,” he spoke, eyes remaining upon what remained of Mor for a second longer before he turned from the room.

You hadn’t moved from the spot you were in when the head was dropped unceremoniously at your feet. You had loved the high open windows until now, until the severed head of your closest friend was tossed through them like some sort of sick toy. This is my fault.

“It is not.” Rhys stood in front of you, blocking your view of Mor’s head. He tucked a hand under your chin, pulling your face up to look at him. “Shields up. We need to be more alert than ever. What has happened is not on you. Tamlin and Feyre have chosen to shed the first blood in this war. This pointless war over a throne that already has a crown. We will make sure they do not do any more damage. It is important that we remain strong throughout this, that we stand before Prythian united.” A single tear slid down his face, his own emotions too intense to hide. You reached up and brushed the wetness away, keeping your hand on his cheek.

“Together,” you whispered, staring deep into his eyes. Trying to convey all the unsaid words and emotions. “The sooner we address the fae the better. They need to know the danger that may be coming. Those who are sick, or elderly, or have young children need to be given a chance to flee if they so wish.” As much as you did not want to speak before them at this second, it was essential.

“You are right, as always.” Rhysand tucked a loose strand of hair back behind your ear. “Let us do our duty as rulers.”

***

“War has been declared upon us by those who reside in Spring. They are claiming made up lies as truth, and have killed one of our own. The Morrigan has been slain in cold blood, all for not bowing down to their rumors. We are preparing with our allies now, with the promise that Velaris will remain the safest place in all of Prythian. However, for those of you who do not wish to stay, safe passage will be granted out to Montesere. As High King I devote my life to you all, and will strive to protect each and every one of you the way I would myself. We will not fall!” Rhysand ended his speech by thrusting his sword up in the air, thousands of fae following suit with loud cries. You looked out over the crowd, chills running down your spine.

Everything had changed.

***

“Summer has declared for us. Dawn and Day have offered armies of their own. The Illyrians will fight on our side. Winter is trying to remain a zone of neutrality. The odds are currently stacked against Tamlin and Feyre, but it is important to know that can change at any moment.” Cassian laid out your allies upon the strategy board as he spoke, before turning to you. “My Queen, it is no longer safe for you here. I strongly advise you to go to the safe house in Montesere.”

You shook your head slowly. “No. I will not flee. I belong here, and as High Queen I will defend not only my throne but my people.” A hand clutched tightly to the sword strapped to your side. “I am as well trained in combat as any of you. I have deep running magic that have bested a thousand fae. I will fight alongside those who have trusted me with their futures.” You looked pointedly at the board in front of you, refusing to look at Rhysand. You knew that he understood you were correct, but it didn’t stop him from wanting to protect you. You didn’t wish to see the pain on his face.

***

The first battle did not reach the edges of Velaris. In fact, you did not know the first battle had happened until it was over. Not until Cassian came bursting in to the study, eyes wide. “It has begun.”

Rhysand stood, walking over to his brother. “Who?” You held your breath, anxious to hear what had taken place without your knowledge.

“Winter declared for Feyre. They invaded the Summer Court. It was pure bloodshed, I am told. Summer held up well against Winter, until the Autumn and Spring Courts came in. They destroyed them. Anyone they didn’t kill pled allegiance to Feyre, to Spring.” Cassian paused. “We are down to Dawn, Day, and the Illyrians. The Seasonal Courts are marching towards us now. We must prepare for battle.” Your blood ran cold at his words, at the danger that was heading towards your doorstep.

You stood, moving to stand next to Rhysand. “Send messages to our remaining allies. It is of upmost importance they arrive here as quickly as possible. We also need to remain sure of their allegiance to me. We must continue to stay strong, confident. If we falter in our beliefs our armies will fall. Go, Cassian. Quickly,” you commanded, sending the general on his way. You turned to look at Rhysand, chest tight with worry. His hands came to rest on that familiar place on your waist, pulling you close to him.

“He will get to them in time, my love. Besides, you and I are the most powerful fae in all of Prythian. Just the two of us hold the power of an entire army. I will not let them touch you.” He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. You relaxed into his hold, savoring these last moments of peace.

It was time to head into war.

***

“False Queen.” Hissed from around you, angry faces of fae swimming in front of your eyes. Rhysand straightened at your side, towering down over them. “I’d choose your next words very carefully,” he spoke, voice deadly cold. The fae who were taunting you sneered at him, any respect they once had gone.

“You have gone against the Cauldron, my King. You have gone against what is right. You crowned the false queen and have brought war to our lands. High Queen Feyre did not wish for it to come to this, did not wish any harm on us or on your wife.” They turned to you, the once joyful beings turned into ruthless monsters. “You tried to trick us in the beginning, making us believe you wanted the best for Prythian. Instead you only wished for power. High Queen Feyre is what is best for us.” Rhysand stepped in front of you, shielding you from further insult.

“Enough. We remain loyal to Prythian, to those who are loyal to us. If you wish to present yourselves as enemies, you will be dealt with as enemies.” With barely a flinch he melted the minds of the three fae in front of you. Three fae who had attended your coronation, who had pledged themselves to you. Who had gladly accepted you as High Queen.

Now they lay dead at your feet.

A horn broke you out of your anguish, attention drawn to the horizon. You reached out for Rhysands hand, clutching it tightly. You watched in anger and horror as the armies from the Season Courts breached your home. The home you had so carefully created. The home you had planned to rule for centuries with Rhysand at your side. The home you were going to bring your children into.

You squeezed your husband’s hand one last time before dropping it, bellowing as you lead your army into battle. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Rhysand go into full beast form, a deadly shadow cast upon the enemy armies below.

The next hours were long, filled with blood and death. Your army fought valiantly for you, defending you at every turn. Yet slowly they began to fall. More and more fae turned to High Queen Feyre as the battle went on, desperate for the fighting to end. You watched as fae who had cheered for you moved to despising you. You fought and fought, arms growing heavy from the use of your sword, body going tired from the use of your magic. You stood in the chaos, realizing you were losing.

You watched Rhysand fall from the sky. You watched the green-armored soldiers flank to him. You knew it was over.

It was all over.

Feyre was in front of you now, a wicked smile upon her face. “Oh, poor thing. All you had to do was hand me my crown, and all of this could have been avoided. You allowed this to happen.” She clicked her tongue sympathetically. “Now your oh so lovely High King is dead. A shame, to see one so powerful fall. It is your fault, you know. You have killed him.” Your heart shattered in your chest, the realization that Rhysand was gone ripping you out from the state of shock you were in.

“You dirty bitch!” You screamed, rushing forward to plunge your blade into her heart.

“Ah, Ah. We can’t have that, now can we?” Feyre said condescendingly, looking at you pitifully. It was then you felt the blade that had been pushed through your stomach. An arm wrapped around your neck from behind, the blade twisting inside you. You gasped out in pain, turning your head just enough to see the golden hair that belonged to Tamlin.

“Trying to kill the High Queen? Traitor.” He twisted the blade again, pain rippling through your body. “You have no one left. All your banners have fallen. Anyone who was still fighting for you has bowed down to Feyre, or has died.” Another twist. “I killed that filthy Cassian myself.” Tamlin laughed. “ Once he fell, your little Illyrians came right to me. Said that I was the rightful leader now, having bested their old one.” Twist. Your vision began darkening, death looming closely. “Lucien did Azriel in. You should see him with a bow and arrow. He’s a rather nasty shot. Especially to birds.” He started dragging the blade up, a scream caught in your throat. “Feyre got Amren. You should’ve seen it. Did you know she holds the power of every High Lord? Amren fought hard, sure, but even old beasts have their limits.” He laughed. “And Rhysand. Watching him fall has been the highlight of my day. We did not even have to try! He worked himself to death, fighting for you. How romantic.” His sword slices higher. “Too bad it was all for nothing. Look out over your pretty little city. You brought all this death here.” He removed his blade and pushed you forward, laughing as you tumbled into the bloodied land. You turned your head just enough to look up at him taking Feyre’s hand, to see her condescending little smile.

“Tamlin will be a fine High King, don’t you think?” She looked up at him, placing her hand lovingly on his arm. “Kill her for me, my love. I’m tired of looking at her pathetic state.” Tamlin smiled wide, kissing Feyres hand before raising his sword once more.

It was over.

***

Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii. I know this is quite a rough one to start back up with but I had to write this idea. It was heavily inspired by House of the Dragon and the song Castles Crumbling by Taylor Swift. I hope you all enjoy and I have missed writing and interacting with you so so much. Here’s to many more stories ❤️

[suudonym]

stream of consciousness thoughts about jp>en translation as it pertains to closeness in demon society, etc.

it's no mystery that when iruma asks azz and clara if he can think of them as friends, the word he uses is 友達/tomodachi. it's a casual word that denotes... you know, a friend. someone you like to spend time with. very straightforward.

there's also a more formal word for friend, 友人/yuujin, but to the best of my knowledge this one doesn't get used in mairuma, and this may be because it seems to strictly avoid using the 人 kanji (hito/jin/nin/person). it's often said that the way 人 is written makes it look like the two strokes are supporting one another, implying that people are things that live with the support of others. to my understanding this isn't the actual origin of the glyph, but it is a fairly common saying - and so it fits the worldbuilding nicely that the highly egocentric demons don't have 人 in their language. they do use the word "hito" sometimes, but I can't recall seeing it written in kanji

speaking of words demons do have, we see 仲間/nakama quite a bit, but while there are plenty of situations where it's valid to translate nakama to "friend," you don't actually have to like someone to consider them thus. someone is your "nakama" when you're united under the same banner, so to speak. it could be a classmate or a teammate or a coworker - anyone you share circumstances and goals with. the fact that this is one of the most friend-adjacent words demons have is also very like them.

demons also have 仲良し/nakayoshi and 仲が良い/naka ga ii, both of which describe getting along with and having a good relationship with someone. so demons do clearly have the concept of friendship, even if they don't have the word for it.

anyway, soulmates. the word iruma uses to describe what azz is to him is 親友/shinyuu, which is... I mean, it's really hard to translate this as anything but "best friend." it's a very close friend and/or someone you've been friends with for a long time. however, there's two reasons it's hard to translate 親友 to "best friend" specifically in the context of mairuma, both of which are summed up in this exchange:

it's a word that azz doesn't recognize. demons have the word "best" and azz knows the word "friend," so why would he have to ask what a "best friend" is? shinyuu sounds completely unlike tomodachi, so to have the same effect, the english word used to translate it also has to sound completely unlike "friend"

iruma's kind of embarrassed about it. "best friend" is usually a rather light term in english and not one we'd typically get flustered talking about. your best friend might just be the person you like spending time with more than anyone else. you could be talking about the past and say someone "was your best friend back then" and it doesn't necessarily suggest that you had a falling out or anything, you might have just kind of drifted apart or met someone else you got even closer to or something similar. I don't know if I'm explaining this completely accurately but from what I gather, "shinyuu" is more of an intimate, time-tested friendship. there seems to be a certain level of emotional vulnerability associated with it that "best friend" doesn't always convey by default.

if absolutely pressed for an alternative translation, I might posit "kindred spirit," but that doesn't quite feel like as natural a thing to say as "soulmate." I do think it's a shame that it has that automatic romantic connotation, but honestly that's society's failure. embrace the concept of platonic soulmates, you cowards.

anyway, them's the thoughts.

[the20thangel]

The Comforts in the Flames

Cregan Stark x Velayron! Reader

Summary: As the realm grieves for Prince Jacaerys, Cregan Stark arrives with his men to support the queen and bid farewell to the prince. There, he meets you, a Velayron Couisn, who is also deeply mourning a sweet boy you knew.

Tags: This is my first time writing for Cregan; please be gentle in your feedback, and I hope you enjoy it. Stay tuned for more fanfics

Word Count: 1.5K

Masterlist

Dragonstone was a chaotic mess; the servants and noble houses were running around, saddened by their grief as they tried to prepare for the funeral of Prince Jacaerys. Many houses, especially those who met the prince, came to show their condolences to the Queen over losing her heir and son, but most importantly, to show their honor in keeping their oath to the late prince. They honored their promises to House Targaryen, Queen Rhaenyra, and Prince Jacaerys. One of the great houses was House Stark, led by Cregan Stark, who was stricken with sadness over the boy he saw as a brother. 

Cregan felt out of place here; the island was grey and gloomy, almost like it knew of the tragedy, with dragons crying in the distance, crying for their fallen sea dragon prince—nothing like Winterfell, with the white sheen from the snow and howls of direwolves in the distance. He tried to stay distant from the funeral preparations, another aspect in which he felt inadequate. In the North and Winterfell, they place their dead in the crypts while House Targaryen makes pyres. He respected his Queen and her house customs, but it did not stop him from feeling like an intruder. 

As He walked to the clearing where the funeral would take place, he saw someone wearing teal blue clothing and white curly hair standing infront of the ever-growing pyre. He recognized you as someone from House Velayron, Prince Jacaerys second family. House Velayron had arrived a fortnight earlier, and Alyn and Corlys Velayron expressed regrets to the Queen for not being able to bring back the prince’s body for the Targaryen funeral. It was a tense time for both houses, having lost three prominent figures in such a short amount of time. Ever curious, Cregan allowed himself to walk closer to you, seeing how meticulously you wrapped the banners of Houses Velayron and Targaryen, representing both sides of the prince. Deciding to make his presence known to you without frightening you, Cregan cleared his throat, defeating his purpose as it made you jump slightly from hearing such a deep and foreign voice. 

Cregan huffed, trying to mask his slight laugh as a cough, “My apologies, milady, I did not mean to frighten you.” 

You placed a soothing hand on your chest to calm your slight nerves as you turned to the deep northern voice. You replied, “Oh, hello, Lord Stark. There is no need to apologize. I should be more aware of my surroundings. What kind of sailor can I be if I am not always aware of my surroundings?” 

Cregan smiled at the lady, “I still apologize. May I ask your name? I figured from your clothes and previous comment that you are from House Velayron.” 

Turning to face the Wolf Lord, you took in his handsome features. However, you were used to seeing Valyrian features from Houses Targaryen and Celtigar prominently being so close to your own; you could not help but marvel at the handsomeness of the Blood of the First Men shown in this man before you. 

“I am (name) Velayron. Lord Corlys is my Lord Uncle.” you introduced yourself to the Lord of Winterfell. 

Cregan tried not to frown. He did not want to offend, but the only brother he knew of Corlys Velayron was that of Vaemond, and he never spoke kindly to his Queen or her sons. You noticed the winter wolf’s face change and quickly commented further. 

“Oh! I am the daughter of the youngest brother of my uncle. Vaemond …was my uncle, and we tolerated him at best.” You laughed nervously, not wanting to speak badly about your late uncle, but it was true. Besides his immediate family, Vaemond made it extremely difficult to care for him.

Cregan flushed in embarrassment that you hurried to defend yourself due to his facial reaction. 

“I again apologize, Milady. It… it's just that he was not seen in a positive light…” Seeing his ever-growing nervousness show through his red face as he tried to defend himself, you thought how cute it was. 

You gave him a wide grin and decided to ease his misery: " There's no need to keep apologizing, my lord. I knew my uncle, and he was rather unkind to everyone. He was vulgar to my cousins, Prince Jacaerys, Prince Lucerys, and Prince Joffrey.” 

You grew sorrowful again at the mention to both Jace and Luke. Both were taken so young from this world. Feeling tears prickle at your eyes, you turned slightly back to the pyre, trying to finish the last details before the funeral. You wanted everyone to see that House Velayron, the true Velayron, recognized Jace as a Velayron and wanted to honor him. Seeing your sorrow, Cregan also turned to the sea, frowning that it had swallowed two princes, and instead of a body, they would be burning clothes.

Not wanting to take more of your time, Cregan announced he was going to the castle for a while but would see you during the funeral, which promoted a nod in agreement for you, wishing him a restful break before the funeral.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As what seemed the whole island made its way to the cliff where the pyre was located, House Velayron stood somberly but proudly behind their queen. You were standing by the Queen’s side, holding objects from Prince Jacaerys that would burn in place of his body. The queen called for her dragon to come forward and asked her beloved Golden Lady to light the pyre as the She-dragon was too mourning another son, Vermax.  After Syrax crawled back from lighting the pyre, you handed the Queen the first piece of clothing. Even in her moments of grief, Rhaenyra gave you a small smile, always remembering how your Velayron side always defended her boys, and she even considered once a marriage between you and her boys. But that was all in the past, and now she can only be grateful you were here to support her in her grief. Once the funeral officially ended, the queen left with the crowd following her back to the castle. On the other hand, you stayed behind, watching the last embers burn; as you let tears flow, you began humming a Valyrian Lullaby, hoping the prince would hear it in his journey to Balerion’s realm. 

Cregan once again stood next to you, silently listening to the tune. He held something in his hand. As you finished humming the song, you turned to him. Seeing his uncertainty, you decided to be brave and ask him what was bothering him. 

Cregan turned his grey eyes to your purple eyes; you gulped at his intense stare. 

“ I… I was hoping to burn a few things, Jace- I mean, Prince Jacaerys left me during his trip to the north,” whispered Cregan. 

You gave a watery smile and touched that the Winter Lord wanted to honor the prince. 

“Of course, I will help you throw them into the pyre. May I ask what they are?” you pondered, hoping you didn’t cross the boundary with him. 

Cregan opened his hand with a wolfish grin, revealing a letter and a small sea dragon brooch. You smiled, recognizing the brooch. 

“This was the last letter he sent me, and he gave me this brooch to signify our brotherhood; he said it was special to him.” croaked Cregan as he remembered the brave prince. 

“Yes, I’m glad he loved that brooch…” you started saying while staring at the stark lord; seeing his confused state, you continued. 

“I gave him that brooch. After his father Laenor passed, he was worried about the future, and I gave him the brooch to remind him that he was a Velayron prince as much as Targaryen. It was also my symbol declaring my loyalty to him and Queen Rhaenyra. I’m glad he cared about you and trusted you so much that you could hold onto it.” 

Cregan gaped. He felt guilty for throwing it into a fire and stated he should instead return it to you. You quickly grasped his hand, closing it tightly around the brooch. 

“No, my lord, he gave it to you. It should stay with you or return with Jace as he enters Balerion’s realm. Either way, I know the brooch will be with someone who rightfully should have it. So choose, my lord, it stays with you or goes with Jace.” 

For a moment, Cregan stared at you in awe of your kindness. Both of you gazed into each other's eyes, hands intertwined. After another beat, Cregan raised your hands, pressing a light kiss to yours as he asked you to throw the brooch into the dying fire. Blushing, you took the letter and brooch, telling Cregan to follow you closer as you both stood infront of the pyre. You said a quick prayer as you threw the items into the fire. Staring as the flames change colors due to the minerals and jewels of the brooch. You both mourn the loss of a prince who was deeply loved and cared about by many, including you both. Your hands lightly graze each other, finding peaceful comfort and solace in each other.

[navybrat817]

Preliminary

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Andy Barber x Female Reader Summary: You give Andy a call, but may have more questions than answers. Word Count: Over 1.3k Warnings: No major warnings. Reader is broke (is that a warning?), Andy Barber (he's a warning, okay?) A/N: Follow up to Keep the Change and building this world! Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby (thank you!), but any and all mistakes are my own. Moodboard by yours truly, divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics, and warning banner by the wonderful @sgt-seabass. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are welcome!

You weren’t sure how you made it through the rest of your shift when all you wanted to do was call Andy. It was late by the time you got home and refused to disturb him at that time. You couldn’t sleep though. Not when your mind raced with the possibilities of what the potential job could be.

Maybe he needs a personal assistant. Could I handle someone that handsome being my boss?

Researching Andy on the internet didn’t calm your thoughts. From what you gathered, he had practiced law before he invested in a friend’s real estate company. When that took off, he invested in additional real estate and a range of various businesses and companies. He did well for himself, but you refused to look at his speculated net worth.

It’s not like he’s going to hand any of his cash directly over to me.

Andy was also single. At least, he wasn't married anymore. A quiet divorce before he made his money. You could only imagine how difficult it had to be for him to date. How many people wanted his money and nothing more?

A man as handsome as him, you couldn't picture him sleeping alone. Was it wrong that your gaze lingered on a few photos of him in his suits? Was his beard as soft as it looked?

You decided to call him the next morning. Normally you would have had your first cup of coffee consumed by then, but you didn’t want to be jittery on the call. Your fingers drummed nervously on the counter anyway as you waited for him to answer. Maybe it was too early. Or maybe he was like you and needed caffeine before he conversed with others.

“This is Andy,” the deep voice rang through the phone once he picked up.

“Hi,” your voice cracked. Cringing, you pulled the phone away to clear your throat. “Sorry about that.”

“Hi, honey. Don’t be sorry. I was expecting your call,” his voice softened, a bashful smile forming on your face when he recognized your voice.

A smile that quickly shifted to a yawn.

This call is off to a wonderful start.

“You didn't just wake up, did you?” he asked. "Did you sleep okay?"

“I'm fine. I just haven’t had my caffeine yet,” you tried to joke.

“I know that feeling,” he chuckled. “I hope it wasn't rude of me to ask. I just want to make sure you’re getting enough rest.”

“So you overtip when someone stiffs me, you want to make sure I’m sleeping enough, and you have a possible job for me?” you asked.

You didn’t want to sound suspicious since he was nothing but kind to you. The question is why he’s so nice. You weren’t naive enough to ignore that he was somewhat of a powerful man. Probably liked being in control. Money could get people like him far. You, on the other hand, didn’t have any. Power, money, anything.

You didn’t want to be a charity case.

“You don’t trust my intentions,” he mused.

You bit the inside of your cheek as you thought of how to respond. Saying the wrong thing could cost you whatever he had to offer. On the other hand, transparency might be the best option.

“I want to trust your intentions. It’s just that most people today don’t display kindness without expecting something in return,” you said carefully, keeping the device at your ear as you grabbed a coffee mug out of the cupboard. “I don’t want to lump you in that category and I hope it doesn’t sound like I am. I think part of me is waiting for the other shoe to drop because my luck hasn’t been so great. I guess I’m being cautiously optimistic.”

Andy hummed on the other end of the line, but didn’t say anything.

You closed your eyes, an apology on the tip of your tongue as your stomach sank. Why did you have to say what you did? It didn't matter. Beneath the nerves, you were proud of yourself for answering truthfully.

Though at this point, you waited for Andy to tell you to get rid of his card and not call again.

Would it be a blessing if he stopped coming into the diner so you could save face, or a curse that you pissed off a great customer and might never see him again?

"I appreciate your honesty."

You opened your eyes and pulled the phone away for a second to look at it. Surely you misheard him. "You do?"

"Yes, I do. You wouldn't believe how many people tell me what they think I want to hear instead of the truth. Maybe they do it to spare my feelings or avoid confrontation, but it's a hindrance more than anything."

"So you prefer honesty?" you asked. "Even if it's something you don't want to hear?"

"One thing you'll learn about me is that I value honesty," he said.

You wondered how many other things you'd learn.

"An ex-lawyer who likes to hear the truth."

"You did your research on me," he said.

"I may have a little," you admitted, your cheeks hot when he chuckled again.

I can't think a laugh sounds sexy if I work for him.

"Research is a good thing. I would expect anyone to do so before switching jobs."

"Speaking of that," you began, eager to shift the conversation to work and not about looking him up on the internet. "You still haven't told me what this job is all about. I'm not even sure which business it's for."

"Do you have your resume ready?" he asked.

Why isn't he answering my question?

"I do," you answered, glancing at your printer where your recent copy was sitting. "Though I can't exactly tailor it to the specific job if I don't know what it is, Mr. Barber."

"Call me Andy," he said. It was more a command than a suggestion, but somehow made you feel at ease. "I'd prefer to discuss the details in person."

You took a chance by calling, now you could take it a step further and meet him.

"And where would you like to discuss the details, Andy?"

"Are you free for lunch today? We can meet at The Courthouse at 12pm."

The Courthouse was one of the nicest restaurants in the city. The tip Andy left you the night before could maybe cover the price of an entree. Thankfully you still had a couple of decent outfits from when you had an office job.

"I'm free," you said. Luckily you had the day off. "I didn't know they were open for lunch."

"They usually open at 4pm, but they make exceptions."

What's it like to have that kind of sway over anyone?

"I don't want to go to the trouble of doing that."

"I already did," he said confidently. "I told you I was expecting your call."

"What if I had to work today?" you asked.

"I would have had to find a way to convince you to call in. And if I have my way, you'll be quitting there very soon."

"That's if I accept the job," you said, smiling as you leaned your hip against the counter. "But I'll be happy to discuss the details over lunch."

"I can send a car to pick you up," he offered.

"I'll take a cab, but thank you."

A car was too much for a job discussion and you didn't want his driver to see where you lived.

"I'll cover the cost of the cab and lunch," he said, leaving you no room to protest. "I look forward to seeing you."

You tapped a fingertip against your mug when he hung up. His businesses looked legitimate, so you didn't believe he would ask you to do something illegal. He also didn't seem like the type to waste his time and play games.

You had nothing to lose.

Here's to being cautiously optimistic.

Are we excited to meet Andy for lunch? Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Andy Barber Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[reareaotaku]

I Am Not A Clone [Series]

Where the Fuck am I

Summary: You accidentally get enrolled into Clone High, even though you are not a clone. Instead of kicking you out, Principal Scudworth decided to keep you to see how the clones react to a real human- Not a clone. Pairings: Various x Reader

You groaned, rubbing your head. You didn't remember what happened or where you were. This- Caused a panic to stir in you. You quickly sat up and looked around what looked like an office. Well- more like a science lab with all the flasks and mysterious liquids.

You frown, rubbing your head, before sitting up. You yawn, walking towards the door, but you are grabbed and pushed back into the chair. You looked around confused only to see a crazy-looking man in a lab coat. He had yellow rubber clothes, which were clasped together. A banner of his name 'Scudworth' was engraved into it. This was the moment you were going to die.

There's a moment of silence before he speaks. "You may be wondering why you're here."

'No shit,' You thought, trying hard to contain your eye roll.

"It seems the administration made a mistake when enrolling you."

"So, you can unenroll me, right?" You asked hopefully, your eyes nearly shining with glee and hope.

The man smirks, as if you had just told him a funny joke. "Unenroll you? Now why would I do that? This is fate."

"Fate?"

"Yes!" he stands up, his chair spinning as he walks over to your side, "The first Natural-born human amongst clones of historical figures of the world. This is what was meant to happen."

"What was?"

He turns away from you and looks over at his many degrees on the wall. You hear him chuckle, causing you to worry. "Why you coming here. You were meant to be here. To see how the clones would react with you. It is the perfect science experiment. It will determine how they will react to the..." He turns back to you, "Natural World."

"And I have to be an unwilling participant?"

"Well, it's not like you have a choice. Just imagine the possibilities."

You frowned, "Possibilities?"

"Yes," He turns back to you, and pats your shoulder. "A new year has begun and things will be... incredible."

'Oh my god, this man has lost his mind,' You thought, shaking your head. "You can't do this to me- I have rights-"

"Do you? Besides, this is a regular school, so there is no reason for you to go to another school. It will be in your best interest to stay in this school."

'Is he threatening me?'

A smile over takes his face and he claps his hands, "Alright. Go, go. You will definitely be popular."

---

You sat in a room full of strangers- Well, they weren't really strangers. You recognized a few of them as historical figures such as Joan of Arc, Abraham Lincoln, and Ghandi?

"The first day of school is always awkward. I just want you to know I can relate. You see, I'm not just your kindly history teacher. I'm also the first mostly-human clone."

You have to hold in a gag when seeing the creature. God, this had to be some type of crime against humanity.

"Spliced in a little sheep DNA." He pats his arm with his cane. Which is fine with me."

"You can't even tell, Mr. Sheepman."

'Ah, yes you can,' You thought to yourself, but you'd never say that aloud.

"Thank you! Before you leave, we have an announcement from Miss of Arc."

"Now, I know I don't have to tell you how committed I am to community service."

You frowned, before tilting your head. 'What the fuck is she talking about? She's nothing like THE Joan of Arc.'

"That's why I'm starting a teen crisis hotline and I'm looking for volunteers."

'Nevermind. Maybe she is.' You quickly raise your hand, but immediately put it down when seeing the look of disappointment cross her face. 'Bitch.' Though you were the only person left in the classroom, so she had to go with you.

"I've never seen you before, are you new?"

"Something like that." You pick up your bag, before putting out your hand, "Y/n L/n."

She looks at you confused, "That doesn't sound like any historical figure I know."

"Yeah, because I'm not."

"What?"

"I'm not a clone."

You can see the look of confusion appear on her face as her eyebrows cross, "What? But this is Clone High? Why would you not be a clone in clone high?"

"That's a good question. So, when do you need my help?"

---

 You walk through the halls, gawking at the many historical figures, impressed by the many you could see. Though, you should have paid attention to where you were walking, because you ran into a taller man.

The man turns around, but makes no move to help you. Instead, he gestures at you as a whole, "Aye- You're new?"

You turn towards the voice. Your eyes nearly popped out of your skull when you saw him, "Oh god, you're John F Kennedy!"

He laughs, shaking his head, "Yes, Yes I am. And who are you?"

"Y/n."

He hums, "I don't remember that name-"

"It's complicated."

He laughs, "Haha! Complicated. I like you. I'm having a party Friday, you should come."

"Party? Like highschool party?"

"Aye, you are so funny!" He clasp a hand on your shoulder before letting out a hardy laugh. He wipes a tear from his eye and takes off.

"Oh, wow, your first party. Maybe this year will be different."

[ktwritesstuff]

Into the Fire (a Game of Thrones fanfic, sort of...)

Title: Into the Fire Fandom: Game of Thrones, with all due disrespect :D Rating: Explicit Characters & Pairings: Oberyn Martel x Targaryen!reader (with a side of Ellaria) Word Count: ~4,000 Summary: Prince Oberyn saves your life and eventually does what Oberyn does with you. Beta-read by the illustrious @bs-fangirl. Additional content notes below the cut.

Content Notes: I don't know that much about Game of Thrones and most of what I do know I don't care for. But I do like Prince Oberyn. Expect a bit of violence, first time, light breeding kink, oral, poly-dynamics, unprotected p-in-v, probably a bunch of other tropes I've missed. It's Oberyn, "dead dove, do not eat" applies.

Into the Fire

You had escaped the madness at King’s Landing (in part thanks to the belated arrival of Ned Stark’s troops and the ensuing confusion among the enemy’s forces.)  You did not make it five miles–on foot at night–before being set upon by slavers, opportunists taking advantage of the chaos.  At least they saw more value in you alive than dead.

You were frightened when the soldiers came, thinking they must have been sent by Baratheon the usurper.  From the wagon at first all you could see was the flash of a golden spear in the firelight.  A whole troop of men fell upon the bandits, but there may as well have only been one.  He moved so swiftly and so well, like a tongue of red flame wicking through the forest.  

He was the most beautiful creature you had ever seen, even before they pulled you from the wagon and you saw the banner emblazoned with a red sun.  These men were of House Martell, not Lannister, and if your luck held you might live to see another day.

“What is this?” asked the man in red.

“A Targaryen bastard by the looks of her,” one of the soldier’s growled, seizing a handful of your corn-silk hair and turning your face toward the fire.  Your looks were not so other-worldly as your cousins, but at least you bore a close enough resemblance that he did not mistake you for a Lannister.    

“I’m nobody,” you pleaded.  “I’m nobody.”

The man in red drew close enough that you could make out the features of his face.  You had seen Prince Oberyn only once before, at Rhaegar and Elia’s wedding feast, but his looks were unforgettable.  You were surprised it had taken you so long to recognize him and even more surprised that he seemed to recognize you.

“I know your face,” he said.  “You were a maid to Princess Elia; you were at King’s Landing.  Tell me what you saw.”

“I hid–” you whimpered as the soldier pulled your hair.  

“You abandoned your lady,” he said.  

“No,” you cried.  “When Lannister turned on us, the guards took her.  I hid in the servant’s passages.  I heard Tywin Lannister give the order to the one they call the Mountain to murder Elia’s children.  I went to the nursery, but the children were gone.  I searched for them–”

You admitted to all that you had seen.  The gore, the horror.  Elia cleaved in two from root to navel and her children smashed.  The anguish that would never leave you.  All the while Prince Oberyn’s face remained still as a stone, but you could see the sorrow and rage behind his dark eyes.

“You lie!” The soldier accused.  “How could a mere girl escape such chaos unspoiled?”  

“The same way anyone does,” you said.  “Blind luck.”

The prince paced alongside the wagon, assessing you, sizing you up.    

“And you’re sure it was Tywin who gave the order?” he asked.  

“I swear,” you nodded.  “On my life.”  

The prince wanted to ride for King’s Landing immediately and dispatch Tywin himself, but ultimately his generals dissuaded him from such rash action.  In the meantime, they gave you bread and wine and allowed you to rest in the first safety you had known in days.  It was dawn before you saw the prince again.  Even with a frown and deep lines etching his forehead, he was still the loveliest man you had ever seen.

“I can leave you a mount and a bit of gold for your journey,” he said.  “But I cannot spare any of my men to return you to your people.”

Over time the sacred words of your house had become twisted.  The life-giving warmth of fire and the sacred blood of kinship and covenant had turned to violence and ambition.  Was it any wonder that Aerys’s reign had festered?  But sweet Elia, a gentle princess and devoted mother, you would have followed her anywhere.

“I loved your sister,” you said.  “Her people are my people.”  

“Very well,” Prince Oberyn said, and for a moment a look crossed his face.  You would have sworn he was pleased.  “We sail for Dorne first thing tomorrow.”

 

You had passed six long years in Prince Oberyn’s harem, wanting for almost nothing.  The court at Dorne was filled with carnal delights you have never before experienced: music and dancing, glittering jewels, perfumed baths, and the finest food.  All of it available to you.

And the prince’s other concubines doted on you.  When you first arrived in Dorne at 19 they considered you a baby.  Meanwhile gossip at court held that your young cousin had been married off to a Dothraki warlord across the sea.  Not that you would have traded places with young Daenerys, but in six years Oberyn had not once invited you to his bed.  Besides the occasional chaste kiss on the hand or cheek he had not laid a finger on you.  

Ellaria counseled you to be patient, that your time would come.  But after so much time you were beginning to think Prince Oberyn had only taken you in as a matter of duty–that he had no desire for you at all.  Like all the prince’s lovers, you were free to have any man or woman you desired, but you didn’t want another lover.  You wanted the prince.

For your twenty-fifth nameday, the prince’s concubines plaited your hair, painted your face, and dressed you in fine silks.  You felt lovely and terribly grownup, despite your lack of experience.

“Come,” Ellaria said with a conspiratorial grin.  “Let’s go bathe in the southern garden, where the prince will see you from his window.”

The southern garden was a lush oasis tucked inside the palace walls.  There was a clear saltwater pond surrounded by dry grasses and desert flowers.  You disrobed in the shade of the palm fronds and slid into the water.

The lack of modesty among the prince’s inner circle had of course taken some getting used to after the formalities of King’s Landing.  But ultimately you came to realize, there were many worthy admirers of your particular pale softness among the hard and tanned bodies of Dorne.  Why should you deny them their pleasure, when those who didn’t appreciate your form were free to look away.

“Aren’t you coming?” you called to Ellaria, who was sunning herself in a chaise.  

“I’m quite happy to enjoy the view,” Ellaria said as you swam.  You chuckled at her playful flirting.  You could understand, despite her low birth, how she could command so much of the prince’s affection.  In all of Dorne, her beauty knew no equal and her charm was irresistible. 

You loved to swim–floating, mostly–especially when the water was so cool and inviting.  It was still early, the sun had not yet reached its apex, but the air was already hot and dry.  You could see the prince’s window, watched his curtains moving in the warm breeze.  You saw the prince come to the window, looking as if he had just roused from sleep.  He leaned on the sill, watching as you stroked your way lazily across the pool.

When the sun had warmed your belly, you turned over to paddle your way back into the shade.  You lost sight of Prince Oberyn, only for him to reappear on the steps down to the garden in his splendid red robe with a sheet of fine linen draped over one arm.  

“You should keep this one out of the sun, Ellaria,” he warned.  “She wasn’t made for it.”

You frowned as Prince Oberyn beckoned you to him.  You rose from the pool reluctantly and he wrapped you in the sheet.

“I’m not afraid of being burnt, my Prince,” you protested as he draped the fabric over your shoulders and rubbed your arms to dry them.  

“I’m well aware, my little dragon,” he said, touching your chin gently.  “But how would it look for my prize to wander through Sunspear as red as a berry.”

You tucked the sheet under your arms and tied it off to secure it.  

“Isn’t she beautiful, my love,” Ellaria said, rising from her chaise to join you in the shade.  

“Very beautiful,” Oberyn agreed.  He rested his hands on your shoulders, looking past you to gaze at Ellaria.  “All the more reason to keep her from burning to a crisp.”

“Hair like spun gold,” Ellaria noted, gathering your damp braids in her hands, wrapping them back into your gold hairpin. “Skin so smooth, just like fresh cream.  And so soft.”

The prince hummed to himself, watching her work.  

Ellaria pressed her front against your back, she was almost a head taller than you, and you could feel the warmth of her sex against the small of your back.  Her hands moved down your neck, her fingertips brushing the tops of your breasts.     

“You like her soft, don’t you, lover?  I’ve seen how you enjoy a bedfellow who gives.”  

“I do,” said the prince, dipping his mouth toward Ellaria’s lips, perched beside your ear.  “Why do you think I keep her so well?”

A jolt of excitement raced up your spine from your core as they kissed. You realized you enjoyed hearing them talk about you, around you, like this.

Ellaria slid her hands around your waist to the prince’s hips, pulling him into your body.  You could feel the hardness of his cock pressing into your belly.  

Ellaria moved one hand to the side of your head, turning away from the prince to catch your mouth in a kiss.  Her lips were impossibly soft against yours and she tasted like honeyed wine.  Then Prince Oberyn bowed his face toward yours and you didn’t know whose tongue was in your mouth.  You felt dizzy with pleasure.  

Ellaria pulled away and you moaned for the loss, but Prince Oberyn was holding your face in his large hands and his tongue was moving past your teeth, delving toward your throat.  Your body felt like soft clay, molding into them.  Ellaria kissed your neck, taking your hands in hers, moving them into Prince Oberyn’s robe.

“Like this,” she whispered, guiding your hands over his chest, fingernails scraping against his nipples, palming the hard muscles traversing his abdomen.  

The prince’s skin was nearly as smooth as yours, until your hands reached the wiry hair trailing down to his swollen cock.  The prince moaned into your mouth as Ellaria positioned your hands around him.  

“Gently,” she instructed.  “You’re doing so well.” 

As you carefully stroked the prince’s shaft, Ellaria’s hands moved across your body, kneading your breasts, traveling down the soft curves of your belly to grope at your mons, assessing the wetness of your inner folds. 

“She’s ready,” Ellaria said.  “Take her.”

Prince Oberyn pulled away from you panting.  Your own chest heaved with exertion and your head swam.

“Are you coming?” he asked.

“Not today, lover,” Ellaria said, running a perfectly shaped fingernail down your nose affectionately.  “Today is for our little dragon.”    

“Come,” Oberyn instructed, leading you by the hand up the steps to his bedchamber.  “There’s another nameday gift waiting for you yet.” 

You hesitated, turning back toward Ellaria, looking for assurance or permission.

“Go,” she said, shooing you along with a friendly smile.  “Go!  Enjoy yourself.”

You followed Prince Oberyn up the stairs, full of uncertainty and excitement.  His bedchamber was the finest you had ever seen: the heavy wooden furniture was ornately carved and polished to a mirror-like shine, hand-woven rugs stretched nearly from wall-to-wall.  At the very center of the room was an exquisite canopy bed with silken drapes of red and gold.

“Sit,” the prince urged, motioning to the bed.  

You took a seat at the end of the bed, leaning back on your forearms, anticipating your long-awaited ravishing with something akin to glee.  Instead, the prince retrieved a lidded basket from the table and brought it over to the bed.

“For you,” he said.  “A gift; be gentle with it.”

Your lips parted in surprise.  You lifted the lid of the basket, gazing down into its contents:  armor-like scales, writhing, and hissing softly.  You counted three pointed, perfect heads with shining black eyes. 

“Oh,” you sighed, reaching into the basket, allowing one of the serpents to coil around your fingers.  “They are beautiful, my prince.” 

You lifted the first creature out of the basket; its scales shining copper in the sunlight as its forked tongue darted out to catch your scent.

“Are they dangerous?”

“Only if they bite,” Oberyn said, reaching into the basket to retrieve another snake for you to examine.  

“Are they likely to bite?” you asked, the snake in your hand coiled its tail around your wrist.  You marveled at it, reaching for its final companion, a tiny, emerald-green thing which wove its head in and out from between your fingers.

“Not these hand-raised babies,” Oberyn said, pressing his face toward the snake’s in a show of faith.  “All they want is to be kept warm and safe and fed on the finest rats Dorne has to offer.”

“Like me,” you laughed.  

“Are you partial to rat, little dragon?” Oberyn smiled, returning the snakes to their basket.  “I will have to inform Cook!” 

You laughed, leaning back in Oberyn’s bed as he set the basket aside.

“Thank you, my Prince,” you said.  “I adore them.”

“I am glad,” Oberyn said, returning to the bed.  “Rumor has it your cousin has added three dragons to her command, but this is the best I could do.”

“They’re splendid, my Prince,” you said.

Oberyn leaned over you, placing a hand on the base of your throat as he kissed you.  

“I can’t wait to show the others.”  

“Catalina is afraid of snakes,” he warned, his mouth trailing down your neck.  You cradled his head in your hands, tilting your chin back to expose your throat.

“Then Catalina will learn to stay out of my room,” you chuckled.

Oberyn paused as his mouth reached the space between your breasts, curling his fingers under the sheet that still covered you.  His eyes darted to your face.

“May I?”  

“Please,” you gasped, arching into him.  

Oberyn opened the sheet, taking each of your breasts in his hand, pressing the flat of his tongue against each nipple one after the other, nipping and sucking until they were swollen and sensitive.  You could feel your arousal coiling like a snake at the base of your spine.

“So beautiful,” he breathed against your skin.  “So sweet.”

“Now you,” you pleaded, touch the collar of his robe.  “Please, my Prince.”  

Oberyn grinned, rising from the bed to undo his robe.  His body perfectly lean and hard and golden stood in stark contrast to yours.  His cock thick and long, sprouting from a nest of dark hair fully erect; you thought he must be large, though you didn’t have much to compare him to. 

You turned over on the bed, crawling to him on hands and knees.

“Can I taste you, my Prince,” you asked.

Oberyn took your face in his hand, playfully squeezing your cheeks until your lips pursed.

“How could I deny this face,” he said, settling onto the bed.  

Oberyn turned onto his back, supporting himself on his forearms so he could watch as you moved over him.  You took his shaft in one hand, lapping at the tip.  It was different than you expected, a heady, earthy musk, salty and sour on your tongue.  Oberyn made a soft, satisfied sound from deep in his throat.

“More,” Oberyn instructed, placing a hand on the back of your head.  

You opened your mouth wide, wrapping your lips around him.  Oberyn sighed, letting his head fall back against the cushions.  Try as you might, you could not reach to his root, surfacing for air only to gag yourself in the next attempt.  As you moved up and down Oberyn’s length, the sounds of pleasure turned to something more like discomfort.

“Stop,” he ordered through gritted teeth, silk sheets bunched in one hand.  “Stop.”

You sat back on your heels with a frown as Oberyn sighed with relief to have his cock freed from your toothsome maw.  

“I’ve displeased you, my Prince,” you said, horrified that the unbreakable prince of House Martell would lay down his weapon rather than suffer your untutored enthusiasm.  

“No,” Oberyn beckoned you to him.  “Never.  You need more practice, that’s all.”  

You stretched out on the bed beside Oberyn and his hands explored the curves of your body.  

“You shall have your pick of my men as a bedfellow,” he assured you, interlacing his fingers with yours, lifting your hand to his lips.  “And once you’ve had sufficient preparation, we can try again.  You’ll have many more opportunities to amuse me, little dragon.”

Oberyn’s fingers wandered, tracing each of the pale lines adorning your breasts and belly.  If one didn’t know better, they might have assumed you had already had a baby.

“I’m going to put my fingers inside you,” Oberyn explained.

“On my honor, I am a maid, my lord,” you said as his fingers circled the sensitive jewel at the peak of your folds.  The serpent in your belly that had lain dormant for so long coiled tighter.

“On my honor, I care not,” Oberyn teased.  “Though it is a special pleasure to be the first to delve into this cave. I don’t know what tales are circulated by Targaryen oldwives, but in Dorne our women are taught never to suffer inattentive lovers.  Maid or not this should be quite pleasurable for you.”  

You bit your lip as Oberyn probed one finger past your entrance, then a second.  A little tight, a little stretched, but not uncomfortable.   

“More?” he asked, probing deeper.  You gripped his shoulders and shook your head.  

“Not yet,” you said.  

Oberyn waited, pressing his thumb into the peak of the wishbone between your legs.  The serpent writhed.

“What are you doing to me,” you moaned, clutching the silk sheets.

“You’ll know soon enough,” Oberyn said, his fingers curling inside you.  You shrieked as he touched a place inside you that sent a lightning bolt of pleasure racing up your spine.  

“There,” Oberyn chuckled, withdrawing his hand to hold your face as he kissed you.  “I’m sorry to report you are too small to take all of me.  There are, of course, other avenues we can explore.”

Oberyn reached around you to squeeze the globe of your ass and you gasped in excitement.  

“But that is for another time,” he said, moving over you.  “Today is yours to enjoy.  When I press into you I want you to close your legs so I can fuck your thighs while I fuck your cunt.”

You nodded, spreading your knees so that Oberyn could settle between them, aligning his cock at your entrance, rubbing against you spreading the slickness of your arousal over himself.  You felt a sharp tug as you closed your knees around him.

“Pain?” Oberyn asked, slowly pressing his hips into you.  

You shook your head.  “It’s not bad.”  

“Breathe, little dragon,” he said, bowing his head to kiss your breasts.  

Oberyn’s movements put pressure against that sensitive spot and as he flicked his hips into you, you could feel the serpent in your core coiling tighter and tighter.  You moaned with abandon, letting your head fall back against the cushions.  

“Good?”  

“Yes,” you panted, clawing at his arms, his back, scrambling for purchase. 

“My little dragon has a fire in her belly,” Oberyn teased. “So hot for me, strong and eager.”

You moaned, arching into him. 

“Tell me,” you pleaded, reaching to pull him into another kiss, hot, wet, and hungry.  “Tell me more about what you want to do to me.”

“Such a needy little girl,” Oberyn panted, gripping your thigh.  “Already drunk off my cock.”

You purred in agreement, biting down on Oberyn’s lower lip, your pupils blown so wide your pale eyes were nearly as dark as his.    

“I’ll make you mine,” he said.  “A finer mount than any dragon. My love, my plaything.”

“Please,” you mewled. “Anything…anything you desire.”

 Oberyn ran a hand down your body, arching his back like a cat, his gaze settling on the space below your naval. 

“I’m going to fuck a baby into you,” he said. “I want your breasts to swell and your belly to stretch with my child.”

You moaned, dragging your hands down his sweat damp back to grip the hard muscles of his ass.  The snake coiling in your belly finally struck, every fiber in your body crackled like hot coals.  You gasped as Oberyn fucked you through your climax. 

As his thrusts slowed to a desperate grind, he withdrew from you and spent his seed on your belly and chest.  He rolled off of you, onto his pillows, dragging one hand through the mess he had made of you. 

He pressed two fingers to your lips and you took them into your mouth, suckling his spend from them like a newborn kitten after cream. 

“You’ve done me wrong, Oberyn,” you sighed, turning onto your side to meet his gaze. 

Oberyn reached over you to strike your ass with the flat of his hand once, hard, and you yelped. Another thrill of pleasure raced through you. 

“You forget yourself,” he warned. “I am still your prince.”

He grabbed your face and kissed you, claiming your mouth with his own.  You panted as he finally released you, resting your hands on his chest. 

“You promised me a baby,” you said. “And all you’ve made me is a mess.”

“In time, my sweet,” he said, gathering your body into his. “I’d like to have you to myself a while longer.”  

Oberyn brushed your sweat-damp hair from your face and kissed your brow. 

“You need another bath,” he warned. “To freshen up for the feast.”

“What feast, my prince,” you asked, tracing the neat line of his beard with your fingers. 

“We could not let a 25th nameday go unmarked,” he said with a wry smile. “Just a small celebration, little dragon.  My brother has graciously allowed us use of the great hall to mark the occasion, or at least he will.”

“You spoil me, my lord,” you sighed.

 

Prince Oberyn escorted you to the great hall himself; there was already a fire raging in the very center of the room filled with wine and laughter and gaiety.  You didn’t even notice Ellaria until she managed to slink up behind you to whisper in your ear.

“You are glowing,” she said and you laughed as her arms trailed around your waist.  "I take it you enjoyed your time together."

“Very much,” you said.  “Truthfully I’m surprised I’m still standing.”

“Then sit,” she said.  “Lover, we’re going to sit.”

She leaned over to kiss Prince Oberyn on the mouth–the same mouth that just hours before had transversed every unspeakable place on your body.  You took a seat on a cushion at one of the low tables surrounding the fire and Oberyn summoned a page to bring you wine and sweet date cakes, before running off to make merry with a handsome young courtier.  

“Did you put him up to this?” you asked as Ellaria draped one arm around you.  

Ellaria scoffed.  

“Hardly,” she said, twisting her fingers through your hair.  “A nudge, that’s all.  Just a little reassurance.  Even princes know to fear dragons.”

You took Ellaria’s hand in yours and placed a kiss on her palm.

“Thank you.”   

End Notes: Ta da! Thanks to all who voted and all who've read this far. What do you think? Are you interested in more?

[maple-seed]

Thrown - Chapter 46: Lokabrenna

Summary: Loki makes an escape with you.

Word Count: 1,482

Author's Notes: We are back. 6 chapters to go and I'm going to do my best to keep to the once-a-week schedule.

Thrown Masterlist Loki Masterlist

Bruce Banner was a perfectly tolerable person to be around, probably. Loki could recognize this in an objective sense. He was polite, deferential even. Quite intelligent. He had a decent sense of humor, in a quiet sort of way. Easily the most amiable Avenger to have in one's company. Loki also knew, logically, that Bruce Banner and the Hulk were two separate entities that merely shared a common point of origin, on occasion. Still, despite all of this, when Loki was in the presence of the mild-mannered scientist he could think of little else aside from the marble floor of Stark's penthouse, and the sound it made as Loki passed through it.

As Bruce had stepped off the quinjet Valkyrie greeted him with a grin and a punch to the arm. "Hey, big guy." He responded with a nervous smile while rubbing his arm. "Hey." Before he had a chance to recover, Thor had swung in with one of his exuberant hugs. "Banner! Welcome back to New Asgard!" "Yeah, thanks, good to be here." Banner met Loki next and extended a hand. "Hey Loki, are you... uh, how are you?" The man seemed to be uncertain even of the question he was asking. Loki shook his hand, pleased that it seemed the discomfort wasn't entirely his to bear. "I'm well, Dr. Banner. And you?"

Loki had been made aware that Banner had played a key role in the Asgardians' escape from Ragnarok, and then Thanos after that. This explained the warm welcome he had received from the citizens of New Asgard. It did not explain the strange closeness he shared with the Valkyrie. It was Loki's understanding that she had sold the Hulk into slavery on Sakaar, yet they seemed to be on very friendly terms. There must be more to that story, but Loki considered that he may not want to know. Then again, she had also sold Thor into slavery and now she was essentially his advisor and lieutenant. Perhaps she was simply very gifted in making amends.

Part of the agreement that allowed the Æsir to settle here on Earth involved certain aspects of trade. They would be given a place to make their home, and in return the Asgardians would share their knowledge and technology with carefully-chosen human parties. Additionally, in exchange for allowing New Asgard to be built here specifically, several benefits of Stark Industries were being extended to the mortal town. Banner was here to oversee progress and move forward with these trades.

Blessedly, this meant that Loki's presence was not needed, as most of Banner's interactions were with the Æsir engineers and human officials. And so it was not much of an issue that Loki had somewhere else to be, and he quietly excused himself and slipped away from the clamor.

You had suggested another hike to spend the night on the mountain and Loki jumped at the opportunity. He hadn't told you of the dream he had when he was away at the compound, but the images from it had lingered in his mind. It was something he longed to recapture. You had invited Thor, but he declined, citing all the work that needed to be done. Loki had never been so grateful to his brother.

As he approached your cabin you were on the porch, laying out supplies that you would likely be asking Loki to transport. You straightened and smiled. "What took you so long?" "I beg your pardon." He leaned in to plant a quick kiss. "We received Bruce Banner along with a number of his apprentices today. I had to perform certain duties before I could diplomatically extricate myself." Your eyes lit up. "Bruce Banner? Bruce Banner is here?" Loki raised a brow. "Yes. He's here to learn of our technology and to grant us some of his." "Why didn't you tell me?" You turned your head toward New Asgard, peering down the road, as if you could see him from here. "Why is it of such keen interest?" "It's Bruce Banner! A world-renown scientist! The Hulk!" You eyes were still fixed down the road. Loki frowned. "Need I remind you that you dine with gods on a regular basis?" You waved dismissively. "Exactly, you're old news." He narrowed his eyes. "You shouldn't test me today, little bird. Soon we will be isolated on a mountaintop, alone in the darkness, far from help." He pulled you in close. "I'll have you completely at my mercy." You bit your lip and grinned with a new excitement in your eyes. "You promise?" He chuckled, his nose grazing yours. "I would say I should teach you a lesson but something tells me you would be too willing a student."

You laughed as he released you, then turned back to the provisions you were organizing. "How long is Banner here?" "A few days, at least." "Great, we can have him for dinner tomorrow." He sighed. "Must we?" You smirked. "Aw, are you still sore from that time he beat you up?" You offered him a mocking pout. "Show me where it hurts." Loki sulked. "My pride, mostly." "Well, that's ideal. You've got plenty of that to spare." You straightened and swung a pack over your shoulder. "No reason why we can't be social." Loki folded his arms and leaned against the post of your porch. "Perhaps I simply prefer not to?" "Oh, don't worry." The mocking tone had returned to your voice. "It's just a little dinner. I promise I won't let the big scary monster get you." Loki glared. "One day, you will reach the edge of my patience." You grinned. "Not today? I'll keep looking for it." You gave him a conciliatory peck on the cheek. "Now magic up these supplies so we can hit the trail." "Your mortal frailty is the only reason I tolerate this treatment." Loki begrudgingly waved a hand and vanished the items, then followed you down the road to the trailhead.

The climb felt different this time. It felt almost clandestine with just the two of you. As if Loki was sneaking away from all of his troubles. Like you were leading him to a paradise where they didn't exist. The hike was easy, with light spirits and laughter.

You grew quiet as you reached the end, and stopped altogether before stepping out onto the terrace. You stood for a moment, looking out onto the outcrop, and it occurred to Loki that this would almost certainly be your first time here without Ash. He reached down and to your hand in his. After a moment you sighed, squeezed his hand, and managed a slight smile as you looked up at him. "Come on, let's go make camp."

After a brief stop to admire the view, the both of you set to work. You pitched the tent, Loki gathered firewood, though not nearly as much would be needed this time. Spring was waning and the nights were growing warmer. Dinner was cooked and shared, and afterward Loki found himself seated on the ground, his back against a boulder near the fire. You were stretched in front of him, with your back to his chest, your head resting back against him. His arms wrapped around you and in turn your arms held his. The two of you gazed out over the landscape, which was bathed in gold and shadow as the sun began its descent. A few quiet words were shared but it seemed agreed upon that this moment was meant to simply be absorbed.

Sequestered away here with you, this was exactly the peace Loki had craved. He wanted to tell you about his dream. He wanted you to know that for him the majesty of this place was intrinsically tied to you, so much so that when he was longing for you this is where his mind brought him in his sleep. It felt like something you should know.

Before he could find where to start, you raised a hand toward the horizon. "Hey look, your star is out." The sun had begun its retreat in earnest, and the first stars were making their appearances. Just above the horizon was the one you were pointing out. "Our star." He corrected. You turned your face toward him, a brow raised. "Our star?" He nodded. "You told me it was named 'Lokabrenna', correct? My burning?" You looked back to the horizon, as if the star could explain. "Yes, that's right." "Then it is our star." He assured, leaning forward to graze his lips against the shell of your ear. "For I burn for you." You turned to him again with a wild affection in your eyes, which he could only appreciate for a moment before you pulled him to you and kissed him with a fervor that was unexpected but immediately reciprocated.

Loki felt the rise of familiar flames.

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@mischief2sarawr, @imalovernotahater, @norestfortheshelbywicked, @purplekitten30, @ozymdias, @pdraxxi, @goblingirlsarah, @chantsdemarins, @n3rdybirdee, @marvel-love24, @lokiprompts, @ladymischief11, @gigglingtiggerv2, @lilmilkbun, @huntress-artemiss, @ellooo0ooo, @femme1fatale, @clairewinchester14, @glitterylokislut, @psychospore, @ladyloki3, @skinij3fx, @iamlokisgloriouspurpose, @lunarnights95, @callxmexnadine, @lilibet261, @valeave, @f2mhg2lt2rta, @fruit-caught-on-camera, @ladymischief11, @paetonnn, @confusedpanda-777, @honeyrydernot, @sarcastic-siren, @wolfsmom1, @lokisgoodgirl, @cakesandtom, @unlucky-number-13, @rinnwylde, @javagirl328, @josiedoesdoodles, @rose7420, @ultrasnakesona, @vickie5446, @superficialdomina, @ireallyneedtherapy, @weirdowoody, @hotmesshobbit, @buttercupcookies-blog, @km-ffluv, @mrsbarnes32557038, @tallseaweed, @leothecat97, @soulpiercing, @axen-gers, @im-a-slut-for-fluff, @jainaeatsstars, @whattwhoo, @xxfaithlynxx, @thisisew, @rvautomatic, @herdetectivetheorist, @rhiannon-russo, @loki-godofstories, @thedistractedagglomeration, @halepack2011, @kalibrate, @fireflymoonwitch, @runesgarde, @nelachu2423, @caelinoria, @anthc