#Alpha Tree Care

[wheneclipsefalls]

heyy i love ur works sm, could u possibly write a fic like the one you wrote about Lo’ak in Unmoveable, but with Neteyam as the alpha and the reader as the bratty/dominant omega. (Preferably fem reader) Tysm!!

Pairing: Adult Alpha Neteyam x Olangi Princess Omega Reader

Summary: Princess or not, a spoiled brat like you needs to be put in her place. And since you have been given over to him now, Neteyam is more than ready to put that attitude in check.

Warnings: dubcon/noncon, explicit MDNI, aged up Neteyam, omegaverse, dom/sub dynamics. power imbalance, very talkative Neteyam, breast play, nipple clamps, anal, punishment, kidnapping/arranged marriage, swearing, etc.

A/N: Hi anon...you probably thought I was never going to fufill this request😆😅 Hopefully you are still online to see this

Adult Neteyam pic by Cinetrix

Unmovable for reference

“What are you doing?”

“Waiting.” You reply simply, folding your legs upon where you are perched on a nearby boulder. 

“Is that so?” One of Neteyam’s hairless brows curves upwards into an unusual expression as he places his hands on his hips. You shrug it off as morphed social skills he has picked up, a consequence of living with Sky People. You don’t let it ruffle your feathers. 

“Yes. Soon you will have left and I will finally have some peace before my clan comes to get me.” You supply the information with a tilted chin and confidence oozing from every pore even as the towering alpha closes in on your space. 

“Your clan has given you to me, princess.” 

You refuse to meet the gaze that somehow manages to penetrate your defenses with a heated fire, contrary to his poised posture that emanates a relaxed grace. 

“An oversight on their part.” Your fingers interlock together and place on your lap. If he wants to put on a tough bravado why shouldn’t you? “Once they come to realize their mistake they will come to retrieve me. Until then, I wait.” 

However, waiting here may take more patience than you care to admit. The Olangi clan are known for their expertise as pa’li [direhorse] riders but even they may require a day or so to catch up to the point where Toruk Makto’s son has dragged you to. It's the furthest you have ever been from home. Consequently the first time you have seen the beautiful rolling grounds of the plains slowly transform into congested forest. 

You can only see a portion of the sky with these interlocking trees in the way. It pushes in on you like the bars of your enclosure, yet another representation of how trapped you have become in Neteyam’s grip. 

“I’m waiting too, paskalin [honey].” You shuffle slightly when he comes to sit beside you. The rich essence of his scent wraps around you in a vice-like grip. It has your inner omega running restless but you maintain a serene exterior. It wouldn’t be the first time an alpha has tried to rope you into submission with drifting pheromones. “In fact, we all are waiting.’ He gestures to the handful of Omatikaya warriors that have made the journey with him. They pretend to busy themselves with loading up pa’li that are already prepared. “Waiting for you to stop this tantrum of yours.” 

“Tantrum?” The word feels foreign on your tongue. 

“It means a child throwing a fit when they do not get their way.” 

“I am not a child!” You seethe, lips peeling back to reveal your pointed fangs. “I am a princess and-”

“And I am a prince.” Neteyam shrugs, cutting you off. “Yet neither of those titles mean anything out here.”

You scoff, allowing your hair to act as a protective curtain from his searing attention. A prince. What a laughable thought. A true prince does not drag a female away from her home with bound wrists and promises of mating. He has no right to call himself such a thing. 

Then again, your father calls himself Olo’eyktan yet he was the one that handed you over to the alpha. All for the promise of protection against the RDA. The Omatikaya could have asked for anything to seal the alliance between your two clans in battle but all that Neteyam had come to collect was you. 

Your father’s decision, however, could be forgiven in your eyes. He was doing what he thought was best for the people. His greatest error was believing Neteyam would be a suitable mate for you, for thinking that any alpha would be a good match for you after all that you’ve expressed against such a union. You are a free spirit. Despite your presentation as an omega you were never meant to live in an alpha’s shadows. 

“Look at me.” His voice is soft but firm. Another scoff of refusal is traveling up your throat but this time Neteyam doesn’t wait for you to follow his command. He captures your chin and forces you to turn and feel the weight of presence. It feels as if his alpha pheromones not only bleed into the space between you but also cinch around your throat like a claws. “I am your alpha now, your mate. That is the only title you should be focused on.” 

Neteyam is a strange alpha, that you have come to quickly realize. Where other alphas often raise their voices in demand for respect and submission he delivers his commands in the form of smooth purrs traveling down your spine. He uses force when necessary but never done rashly or out of anger, simply a tool to get you back to where he deems you should be. Among the other males there is no passive aggressive commentary or puffing of chests to remind them of rank. 

Instead he converses with them as old friends do. He leads the group in every sense of the word but it’s done with almost a playful hand as they laugh and make jokes with one another. And yet, after all of this backwards messaging, there is an air of dominance that laces his every move. He walks and talks with a relaxed expression as if he knows there is no need to prove himself. His supremacy is something that would not dare to be questioned. 

And somehow that comes off as higher snobbery than any other foolish alpha you’ve seen wrestle for your hand. 

“I don’t have an alpha. Nor will I ever.” With a tug your face is whipped from his hold. You manage to conceal the rush of heat to your cheeks by smoothly shifting your hair and facing away from him once more. “I suggest you accept that fact and stop wasting both of our time.”

Not a single bat of your eyes in his direction as you stare confidently ahead at the strange tree in front of you and wait to hear the party’s retreat. Instead your ears only catch the sound of a small sigh and shuffle before Neteyam is standing before you. 

“Come now, princess. It’s been fun but we still have ground to cover.” He reaches his hand out to help you up but you only gamble casting a glance at it from your peripheral vision. As far as you are concerned, Neteyam does not exist in your world. And so you treat him as such. 

“Neteyam!” A voice bellows across the distance. “We are losing daylight, brother. Are we set to travel?”

Neteyam doesn’t hesitate to send the other male a small smile before saying, “She is coming along now.”

“No I am not.” Your instant response is tainted with a gasp of offense. How dare he speak for you! “I am not moving from this rock until my clan comes to get me.” You insist, slapping his hand away. 

Neteyam remains unperturbed, simply giving a shrug before murmuring, “Have it your way then.” 

You aren’t afforded a second for a sense of victory to settle in before the prince is tossing you over his shoulder. Strongs arms wrap around the back of your thighs to keep you pinned there and decrease the range of motion for kicking. It doesn’t stop the gasp of outrage and pure spite that emanates from you. Limbs swinging in every which direction to deliver damage, you quickly resent the way his strength greatly overpowers your own. 

“I am not some fresh kill for you to carry home. Set me down right this instant!”

“I gave you the chance to walk over with dignity, princess. What else am I supposed to do?” He tries to retort but you can detect the grin in his voice. Even more humiliating, from your upside down position you are still able to spot the other males squirming to not laugh at your compromising position. 

“You are a mongrel of a man!” 

The scratchy venom of your tone is morphed into a surprised squeak when you are let back onto your feet. Regardless, you remain trapped in Neteyam’s arms as you are wedged between him and a pa’li. 

“Don’t waste your energy, tiyawn [love]. It will be at least a few more days before we reach Omatikaya soil.” 

They are surrounding you from every side. The five other males may wear amused expressions and appear to be enraptured in conversations with one another but you are no fool. These men are under Neteyam’s jurisdiction. At the first sign of trouble they will be snapping into action. Running now will only get you dragged back and fighting against Neteyam’s hold may get you flung into a humiliating position again. 

“At least let me have my own pa’li. I know how to ride.” 

Neteyam's chest heaves with the responding laugh that awakens within him. White pearly teeth on display, his amusement rises higher. Several of the others try and fail to not join in. It heightens your blood pressure until your face is hot to the touch.

“That’s a very good try, princess.” He beams, patting your hip. 

Neteyam unfortunately is not the fool you hope for him to be. Nor the arrogant alpha that would make the mistake of believing himself capable of catching you once you’ve set off on a pa’li. You’ve been riding since you were barely able to walk. The Omatikaya may understand the concept, but they hold not near the same precision and skill that your years of training have granted you. 

It’s a fact he seems acutely aware of because he doesn’t let you saddle up first. All it would take is a few seconds for you to make the bond and leave them in the dust. Instead, he hands you off to another male as he settles himself upon the creature and only after he has made the bond himself does he have you lifted to sit in front of him. 

By the time you settle around a fire for dinner and begin setting up camp, you can feel your eye on the verge of twitching. This journey has been nothing but painful and slow. So exceedingly slow. Although every step is one step further from your home that doesn’t erase the annoyance you feel at their painstaking pace. The only thing that stops you from snapping at them to hurry up is the hope that this extra time will help you come up with some sort of escape plan. 

It’s clear that your father’s remorse is far too sluggish for you to solely rely on at this rate, so it seems it is once again up to you to meet them halfway. 

However hatching up plans is exceedingly difficult when you have an alpha sculpted against your back, his essence clouding your mind and his eyes constantly peeking down at you as if he knows every thought swirling in your head. Try as you might, there is no reasonable way to veer away from his touch while riding the pa’li, at least not one that keeps you from developing excruciating back pain. 

Trying to set your inner turmoil aside, you focus on using this time away from the Omatikaya prince to properly set your head right. However, it seems Neteyam has different plans as he settles to lounge by the fire. He thanks one of the other males for a drink he is handed before his attention lands on you. 

“Come sit, princess.” He pats the spot beside him. There may be a warm smile to accompany his words but you know that it is nothing short of a command. The steely undertone of an alpha’s call reverberates in his tone. 

It locks your spine into a ramrod straight position and your tail already tries to tuck itself the longer you wait to obey. It’s irrelevant, however. You’ve become quite adept at pushing down your omega instincts in favor of following your own logic instead. 

With a smooth stroll and a feigned innocence to your smile, you maintain eye contact while making a show of sitting next to a different male across the fire. He’s a beta and your proximity immediately has him twitching. 

Neteyam’s golden eyes take on a darker hue, but he remains where he is. You’ve challenged his authority, in front of his men no less, but somehow you escape the night unscathed from his rath. Or so you think. 

It’s hard to say whether these sleeping arrangements are usual for the Omatikaya or rather just a setup meant for traveling. Either way, it is the most bizarre thing to sleep in a roll of fabric high up in the trees. Netyam claims it’s safer to stay off the ground during eclipse in the forest. A silly point truly when it’s just as dangerous, if not more likely, to turn over in your sleep and fall to your death. 

Climbing up to the hammock is all the more painful and terrifying than riding with Neteyam. He patiently trails behind, waiting and giving unwanted direction for your climb until you have finally cocooned yourself in the fabric. Still trembling but refusing to voice any complaints that could be mocked, you take a moment to catch your breath. 

That moment is exceedingly short.

The hammock suddenly swings and you look up to find the prince lowering himself down carefully from a branch above. 

“No no, absolutely not. This is my bed. Get out.” He chuckles as you try to push and swat at his muscular thighs but it’s no use when he is settled in the fabric a few seconds later. 

“Technically it is our bed.” 

“Then I will take my chances on the ground.” Your stomach somersaults at the thought of enduring the climb down. 

Comment ignored, Neteyam coaxes you to lay down before slipping himself behind you. You’re tempted to kick when he wraps an arm around your waist but the hammock is still swinging to a point of nausea. Best not to make it any worse. 

“You’re trembling, omega.” It’s murmured against the shell of your ear. There is no need to look down in order to confirm his assertion. How do the Omatikaya sleep peacefully up in the trees like this? You’ve never considered yourself to have a fear of heights but today has you questioning that assurance all together. 

“You look like you need someone to calm you down.” The palm of his right hand runs up and down the length of your arm, as if the transferring heat there would diminish your shivering. 

“What I need is a break from your pestering.” 

“I already gave you one.” His tale tickles at the back of your knee just as his accented voice deepens. “A break that I have still not received a thank you for.” 

“I wouldn’t hold your breath waiting, my prince.” You sneer. It wasn’t his decision to have you sit away from him during dinner. It was entirely your own and he is not about to receive acknowledgment as if he had any control over what you do. 

“I hope you know what you’re playing at, princess.” 

Those are the last words he speaks of the night and consequently the same ones that leave you restless and twitching. Sleeping like this is impossible. When you’re not worried about falling to your death you become acutely aware of every point of contact between you and Neteyam. His toned chest is like a bustling fire against your back. His tail at some point wraps around knee as if it belongs there. Even his silky ebony braids tickle at your neck, almost as bad as where his face tucks itself behind your ear. 

There is no forgetting who lays behind you. Sleep seems to never come because you are constantly trying to calm your raging heart and control the pheromones that threaten to slip into the air. That would wake him up far too easily. 

His breath is heavy, heartbeat consistent and strong from where it pounds against your back. You’ve been sure for a while now that he is fast asleep. Now is the time to make your move, but frozen you remain. Eventually you look down to find that your fingers have begun tracing the veins of his forearm as an anxious tick. 

Thank Eywa he seems to not wake up from the touch. Or perhaps it is the smooth caress that has coaxed him further into sleep. Either way, you hold very little hope of not only climbing down the trees without splitting your pretty head open but also doing so unnoticed. 

Sleep comes and goes along with the hours until waiting has wound you taunt. It is only a matter of time before the sun rises again and you’ve lost the window of opportunity. So with sweaty hands and a heart threatening to come up your throat, you cautiously slide yourself out from his hold. 

By some miracle it turns out that Neteyam is the deepest sleeper you have ever met, because even as the hammock sways from your climbing out, he simply lets out a sigh and turns his head further into the fabric. 

Scaling down the tree is a test in vigilance and patience. Every smooth breath you force yourself to take is a practice in these arts. Stubbornly you refuse to look down, knowing it will only bring forth nerve ridden mistakes. So with the pace of a snail you inch further and further down the trunk. 

You just need to make it to a pa’li.

That’s it. 

So close. So very close, you tell yourself, even as you know it’s a lie.

“What are you doing?”

Your breath catches in your throat, thighs tensing as you remember to still keep hold. Your muscles relax slightly, however, when you notice that the voice holds an Omatikaya accent but it is not Neteyam’s. The beta from dinner sits up in his hammock, eyes squinting at you through the darkness. Say the wrong thing and he is bound to sound the alarm. 

“You should not be out of bed.” He sighs. 

“I must relieve myself.” Biting your bottom lip you steer your features into confident defiance. “Or am I not allowed to do that too?”

The beta lets out a sigh and a curse you do not recognize. It must be part of the Sky People’s weird language. 

“Alright, I will assist you just wait for a moment.” 

“I don’t require an audience.” 

“But you do require supervision.” 

It’s difficult to argue when you remain clinging to a tree for dear life. So when the beta helps you make it down the tree foothold by foothold, there is nothing left in you to protest. Instead, you simply shift gears. 

“Be quick.” The male says, gesturing to a secluded spot behind thick bushes.

“It takes as long as it takes.” Head held high, you walk past him and into the bushes. Luckily the sounds of nocturnal creatures are loud enough to excuse why you are so silent in the bushes. Furthermore, it’s clear that male has at least some respect for your privacy as a woman when he doesn’t question again what takes you so long.

Those advantages aside, running now would still do you no good. He has steered the two of you further away from the pa’li and running on foot will only get you lost in this entanglement of greenery. And with a beta, one native to the area nonetheless, there is no chance of getting far. 

Lucky for you, there is always one sure fire way to disable a man without violence. 

“What did you say your name is again?” 

The beta straightens when you walk past him. 

“Um, I didn’t.” He picks up into a jog to catch up with your sudden retreat. Not a foot of space is granted between you two. He has grown suspicious. 

Shifting your long glossy hair over one shoulder, you look over at him with a subtle pout. “Well I don’t see how that’s fair. You know my name but I don’t know yours.” 

The beta doesn’t immediately melt at your softened composure like most males at home do. Rather he seems to clear his throat in discomfort before muttering out, “Ke’ve”

“Hm, Ke’ve.” You repeat back, as if savoring the taste of his name on your tongue. He’s nervous. No doubt, devoted to keeping his distance from the prince’s intended. There are ways to relax him, however. “Well Ke’ve, not every male is noble enough to lend his help in the middle of the night. You must know your presence has brought me great comfort out here.” 

His eyes scrunch but he doesn’t respond, perhaps unsure of what response would be safe. 

“You see,” With a sigh, you come to a halt. “I’m not very accustomed to feeling vulnerable. We are so far from home in a place I have never been but I still do not enjoy being seen as weak. So I wouldn’t admit this to anyone else but I feel as if I can trust you when I say,” You pause for dramatic effect and will tears to your eyes. “I’m scared.”

Were it an alpha, the essence of your fear would be enough to swoop you into their arms and make an oath of protection. Ke’ve on the other hand is a beta, so his response is more subtle. Yet just as promising when his expression falters and he looks on the verge of sighing again. 

“You are safe with us.” And as sure as the sun rises in the morning, so does that inevitable flash of concern spring forth. 

“I do feel safer with you.” Just a gentle brush of your fingers against his elbow. So subtle in wake of your shining vulnerability that he doesn’t shrug it off. “I can’t tell you how much that means to me.” 

A few stray pieces of hair fall over your cheek to frame your depiction of soft spoken innocence. You are perfectly poised like a flower ready to be picked, a delicate beauty that deserves to be protected at all costs. The same disposition that has had beta men falling at your feet time and time again. 

They are always enchanted by your demeanor. So much so that when the Olo’ekytan’s daughter suddenly spins the table so she is straddling their waist and taking control, they can’t help but hand the reins over. 

“Yes well you…you don’t need to worry.” Ke’ve’s eyes don’t hold the same snare that Neteyam’s do but you can already imagine how pretty they will look rolling to the back of his head when you have his cock in your mouth. Pleasure has a way of rendering a man defenseless, therefore giving you the perfect opportunity to carry out your plans. 

With the stealth and precision of a predator stalking its prey you snake your hand up his bicep and over one broad shoulder. Consequently it has your own face inching closer to his wrist where you sensually let his pulse point rub over your throat. It will leave the trace of his scent there, igniting a primal side of him that can be molded perfectly into your designs. “How can I repay you?” You ask, batting your lashes up at him as you begin the slow descent to your knees. 

But they never hit the ground. 

Sharp pain erupts along your scalp as a hand abruptly grabs a chunk of your hair at the roots. That hold is used to veer you back onto your feet and fall back against a warm chest. “I can think of a few ways.” 

Your carefully crafted composure shatters into a hiss as you try to recover from both the shock of being caught and the unforgiving grip Neteyam has in your hair. Even more so, the tingling sensation that brutal hold sends down your spine. 

“Ow! Let go!” 

“Tell the others I will be having a little talk with my omega.” Neteyam commands, ignoring your useless struggling. “You are dismissed, Ke’ve.” The beta doesn’t need to be told twice, already scurrying to get away. 

“Now let’s get you sorted out.” Still keeping his hand tangled where you try to dislodge it, Neteyam drags you further into the mysterious forest. You note that the distance, however, is not quite far enough to completely conceal your whining from the others. 

Feet stumbling once that hold is released, you find yourself unceremoniously deposited onto a large boulder. You can spot the cliff’s edge where it drops down into a waterfall and beyond is the rolling landscape of Pandora’s forest. The glimmer of eclipse is slowly shifting into the first ray of sunshine to cast over the horizon. 

“You just had to prove me right, tiyawn.” Neteyam tutts, squatting onto his haunches so that he is at your level. 

It takes considerable effort to get your brain back online and position yourself into a pose more flattering and fit for a princess. No male has ever handled you so roughly. They wouldn’t dare. But the sting of Neteyam’s tug on your scalp leaves a strange ache behind that has your mind reeling. Trying to put your confident mask back on, you fuss with your hair to get every strand back into place. 

“And you just had to act like a barbarian.”

“Did you really believe it was that easy to sneak away from me?” 

Your throat runs dry when you meet his eyes. This wasn’t a near successful escape, it was planned. One look at his face and it’s clear that he knew exactly when you left and exactly who was assigned to deter you. 

“Can’t a woman pee in peace?” You fumble out, making your last attempt at defending your story.

“I suppose not when it ends in you practically nuzzling at another man's tewng [loincloth] like a little slut.” 

Your jaw drops before you can stop it. Eyes ablaze and tail pointed on alert, you are tempted to throw caution to the wind and slap the alpha’s pretty face. No male, in fact no Na’vi, has ever used such a vulgar term to depict you. You’ve had your share of fun among the betas in your clan, but that makes you no less glittering of a gem. And certainly not a slut. 

“No man of honor would even think of using such a term, let alone directing it at me.” When you rise up to your full height, Neteyam stands in suit. “Is this why you asked for my hand? Any normal prince, especially the son of Toruk Makto, should have half the women in the clan begging to mate with him. But maybe even they could not see past your arrogant disrespectful bravado, so you had to travel to another clan entirely to find an unknowing prospect.” 

“Is that your theory?” Tone deceptively calm, the deep drag of his voice washes over you like silk. 

“You may think that you’ve conquered and can now return home with a pep in your step but no matter what you do, there will always be one truth that will haunt you.” 

You gulp down the lump in your throat when one of his long strides closes the distance between you. Regardless, you refuse to retreat. 

“And what truth is that, princess?”

Your wild eyes shoot to pierce through him. 

“That you chose wrong.” You let that statement hang in the air for a beat, hoping it will press down on him in the silence. However it is disappointment that lays a hold on you when his unreadable expression remains in place. 

“Is that so?”

He’s close enough to nearly feel the beat of his heart. 

“It may be your experience that omegas in your presence bow in submission and shudder beneath that charming grin, but I am not one of them. I am not subject to swooning for or baring my neck to any alpha. I am too independent for your tastes.” 

His chest vibrates with a deep chuckle, one that ironically holds no jovial warmth to it. Instead, paired with the sinful curve of his lips, it wraps thick tendrils around you that act as the calm before the storm. 

“You’re not independent, princess. You’re a spoiled brat.” 

He’s undeterred by your scoff or bat of your hands when he forcefully grasps your chin between two fingers. 

“When my father finds out what kind of man you-”

“Your father has done you a great disservice.” Two steps forward and Neteyam has successfully backed you up against the cool stone. “He has given you everything you’ve asked for, let you go entirely unchecked. We can place part of the blame on him for turning you into a spoiled little thing that thinks it only takes a bat of her lashes to get what she wants.” 

When your lips part to sneer a nasty comment at him, Neteyam swiftly presses his thumb over them. 

“It’s because of this spoiled attitude that you have not properly learned the pleasure of submitting to your nature.” He’s not trying to hide the shadow of his scent over you now, it circles you into a clouded dome. Leaning his head down, his lips just barely whisper against your own that are still trapped beneath his thumb. “You don’t understand the ecstasy of being tamed.” 

A warmth pools at the pit of your stomach. You recognize that feeling and what it means. Putting your desire to win this argument aside, it’s clear that now is the time to bow out before this escalates too far. 

“Get off.” At first it’s just a whisper. Then when Neteyam’s body remains curled over yours, rock hard and unmoving, your voice rises. “I said get off! You egotistical pervert!” Your cries don’t stop and neither does the useless rain of your fists against his chest. 

But then he is snatching your wrists and hooking a hand beneath your thigh to slide you up onto the rock. The stone is cold against your exposed back and ass, your tail becoming trapped beneath your own weight. Neteyam crushes all hope of sitting back up when he cages your smaller form with his own bulking frame. 

“Always have to make it difficult, don’t you, tiyawn?”

You fight the urge to squeeze the muscles beneath your captured hands when they land on his chest to push him away. 

“Maybe it wouldn’t be so difficult if you just got off of my ass for once.” 

“Oh but princess that is exactly where I want to be.” That devilish grin is accented by a ray of sunlight painting his features. 

Without an inch of personal space it becomes aggravatingly obvious how gorgeous the man above you is. Neteyam is the perfect contrast of broad shoulders and a slim waist shown off by his beautiful woven battle band. His immaculate braids swing down across his cheeks and collarbones to frame his intense eyes, sharp jawline, and lips that were simply made to do sinful things. 

 Your reflection is cut short when a band begins to wrap around your wrists. Squirm as you might, Neteyam holds no sympathy for your protests as he expertly ties the appendages together. Empty threats. Cries for help. None of them make an ounce of difference. 

“Scream as much as you want if you’re that eager to give the others a show.” 

That shuts you up in an instant. It confirms your earlier observation of proximity and immediately has you playing back the conversation to guess how much of it that other males have already heard. 

“You’re a monster.” 

“Hm, and all yours, princess.” A wicked grin across his lips, Neteyam secures your bound wrists to a low branch over the rock. You’re left stretched out and trapped laying across the boulder beneath him. 

That cocky expression blanches its color once he draws his nose along your neck. The exact spot you had tricked Ke’ve to scent you. Your heart hammers on its own accord when Neteyam’s wicked smile drops. Mere seconds ago nothing had seemed more appealing than ripping apart the alpha with the lash of your tongue, but now something in you warns to stay still. To stay quiet. 

“I was going to wait until we reached Vitraya Ramunong [tree of souls], in light of tradition.” His breath is hot against your neck, a heat that travels like lava down to your very core. “But it seems my little brat can’t wait that long.” 

His teeth sink in without warning. It takes a moment for the shock to fizzle out and allow you to feel the pain. Neteyam’s teeth bite and capture the soft flesh there without mercy before his lips suck a dark spot directly over where Ke’ve’s scent used to be. 

Your spine arches, hips already bucking without your consent. The only response to your screams and squirming is Neteyam’s own hips pressing you back against the stone. He is ravenous. Biting, sucking, and licking at that one spot until the area has become desensitized to his ministrations. 

Your body has spiked from zero to one hundred in a matter of seconds. Your head reels with the whiplash of having the male reprimand you one moment and the next sinking his teeth into a mark terrifyingly close to your mating gland. 

“Better.” Neteyam finally murmurs against your neck. He seals the mark with a deceptively tender kiss as you are left short circuiting. Your instincts flare, that primal part of your nature climbing out from under the rock you’ve kept it trapped beneath. 

“Are…are you insane? Biting that close-” 

“I won’t mark you there tonight, tiyawn. Want to be able to feel you through the bond when that happens.” A curved knuckle runs down your kuru, making your toes curl. “Once we are under the spirit tree together. There are still some traditions I’d like to keep.” He says with a grin that you could almost associate with a charming gentleman, not the same male that just savagely ravaged your throat like a predator of the night. 

“But we will need to find a way to get you to behave until then.” You can’t mirror the ease he feels as he speaks. It becomes clear now how dire your circumstances are. You had thought Neteyam wouldn’t dare to put a hand on you without permission but now he has proven to be more than willing to not only touch but leave marks behind. There is no telling where he draws the line. 

And you’re scared, just as you should be, but there is something else far more terrifying that plumps into your bloodstream. A dangerous intrigue that borders excitement. 

“How do you suggest we do that, princess?” 

No matter how hard you try, no humble response willingly bubbles to your lips. Neteyam is still an asshole, gorgeous or not. Alluring or not. No matter how tempting he may be, that doesn’t mean it’s worth exploring the mysterious punishment he has up his sleeve. And you…well you’re still pissed. 

“My behavior is nothing in comparison to yours. You-”

A hand comes down on the side of your ass hard enough to have you choking on those words. 

“You hit me!” Neteyam simply tilts his head at your accusation. 

“Good observation, tiyawn.” Not a hint of apology present. This man is not remorseful, he is proud. “If you keep running your mouth like that I will be forced to do it again. Knowing you, it won’t take long for me to tan that ass red.” 

Your father never spanked you as a child. It would break his heart to see his little girl cry the tears it would inevitably provoke. And with your dating experience exclusively being betas, no man has ever tried to right that wrong. Thinking of riding on a pa’li with a red ass now has fear jumbling threats past your lips haphazardly. 

“I swear on my-”

His right hand clamps over your mouth. The pressure is hard enough to have you whining beneath his skin. 

“That’s enough from you for now.” 

There is nothing left for you to do but watch. Body rendered immobile and now your last weapon at your disposal silenced, you are at the utter mercy of the prince. A mercy that does not appear to be afforded any time soon as his other hand trails down to start undoing the knots of your top. 

It shouldn’t be as scary as it is, watching string be string get unlooped as your crystal top begins to fall slack. However, this particular intimacy is one you are not accustomed to. 

It had started out as just a silly game you had played when you first started dating. Men were often foaming at the mouth to get a proper glimpse of your subtle breasts. It had been an immediate source of amusement as you’d seen how far they were willing to go for only a chance. And even more rewarding when you noticed how easy it was to never follow through with satisfying this desire. 

So it continued. It became somewhat common knowledge among your lovers, and any future interested prospects that you keep that part of yourself private. However, you hadn’t meant for it to go on as long as it did. Eventually you would cave to a worthy beta and watch him go feral, but that was before you discovered simply how sensitive your nipples are. It only took a few times of playing with yourself, brought on by your interest in nipple piercings, for you to see how vulnerable that area of you is. 

And now it is ironically Neteyam that uncovers that part of you.

He can sense the shift of your scent the moment it happens. With every tug on the feeble strings your essence takes on a darker hue. Pleasure and pain. Arousal and fear. These combinations are ones you have not been properly exposed to. Perhaps were it not for him, you would never have been humble enough to try them. 

The last undone tie allows the strung crystals to slide over the curve of your chest before dropping to the floor. What pretty little things you adorn yourself with, yet they do very little to protect you. Because it’s clear to him that in your eyes, protection is never needed. You can not fathom how much you have truly gotten away with.

Prancing around in your little outfits. Torturing men with what they want but can’t truly possess. Expecting the world to shift whatever way you desire with the wave of your hand. It’s laughable how you never imagined to face the consequences of such actions. 

You’re a haughty little thing just waiting to be put in your place. 

“My brat.” Neteyam smirks, leaning down to place a kiss at the slope between your breasts. Goosebumps ripple over your beautiful azure skin. It’s a visceral reaction to the smallest of his touches and it drives him near insanity. How perfect this pretty body of yours will be as a canvas for his marks. A vessel for his heir. 

Fuck, you are beautiful. 

Perhaps he can’t entirely blame you for being so arrogant. Your beauty is enough to hold a man captive with just a simple glance. And you’ve taken advantage of that far too many times. 

He allows himself to fall captive to it now. Unlike the others, he won’t need to starve after you once you’ve decided you’re done playing with him like a toy. No, you will be bound to him. You will belong to him completely. 

“So pretty.” He coos, his lips just barely painting over your right breast. When his bottom lip hover over your nipple he watches in awe as it hardens. “But you already know that, don’t you?” 

You’ve gone silent, but he can feel the stutter of your breath beneath his hand. It would be unfair to neglect the other side, so Neteyam takes his time showing your left breast the same gentle attention that has your other nipple following in suit. He’s heard of your reluctance to reveal such pretty breasts to your lovers, but he never imagined it would be due to such sensitivity. 

It’s like watching a flower bloom for him. The way you squirm and whine at even the drag of his eyes over your delectable form. Neteyam lets his hand slip from your mouth, no longer willing to explore only with his lips. 

His fingertips start a trail down by your navel and ascend up over your stomach and towards your chest at a slow pace. When he finally reaches to gently palm at your right breasts he feels your heartbeat pounding like a drum under his fingers. So many nights he has dreamed of touching you like this, rendering you utterly speechless before he has even started. Now as your lips part and breath becomes labored from his simple touches, there is no sight more delightful. 

You are perfect. You have an attitude that is in major need of fixing but even that is simply a beautiful challenge Eywa has created for him. The way you fit in his hands, gently massaging that supple flesh, it’s clear She crafted your body specifically for him too. 

The sun has finally breached the line of the horizon and now it sparkles along your chest in a dazzling show. The white crystals woven in your hair remind him of the halos worn by the angels his father has described. 

He applies more pressure with his right hand until the plump flesh is spilling between his fingers, giving him the perfect presentation for his salivating mouth. What starts out as an open mouthed kiss a few inches above your nipple quickly turns into sucking that flesh into his mouth until you are writhing. He groans at the sounds you make and when he pulls back to see the purple mark rising along your skin, the sight is enough to have him on the brink of purring in elation. 

Neteyam bends forward and starts crafting his brand on the other side so they are a matching set. This time he takes care in placing it further below your left nipple, at the crease where your stomach meets your chest. It will be difficult for you to find a top able to cover up this claim wrought by his teeth, a purposeful decision on his part. 

“Tey…mmm… teyam wait!” 

He grins at the cute nickname you’ve already coined for him, but that only buys you a few seconds before he is finally puckering his lips around one of your stiff points. The reaction is instantaneous, spine curving and a screech barreling up your throat. He doesn’t start off sucking too hard, instead just enjoys the way you feel in his mouth. Eventually, though, the whines you make are too decadent for him to resist making them ring louder. So he sucks harder at the little point and groans around the sensitive area so that it has vibrations shooting through you. 

“Finally being so good to me, tiyawn, aren’t you?” He says, taking a moment to release your nipple with an audible pop. “Laying yourself out for me to enjoy. I knew you could be a good girl.” 

You haven’t come to earn this praise yet, but it’s important to leave an alluring snippet that exhibits what could come if you only behave. As much as you may want to fight it, your nature won’t let you escape how good such praise feels. You are a stubborn woman but your body wants to submit to him. There is a part of you, no matter how deep you’ve buried it, that yearns to please your alpha. 

He snaps you back into the moment by softly closing his teeth around your left nipple. It takes a hand against your stomach to stop you from rolling onto your side and away from his soft torment. 

“It’s too sensitive! Stop!” Your pouted lips beg but your strengthening perfume gives your arousal away. Just as he figured, you’ve yet to experience how beautifully pleasure and pain intertwine. He rolls that bud sensually between his teeth before carefully giving it a tug. 

He alternates between tormenting your nipples and savoring the plush curve of your breasts with his hands and mouth. The skin is soft beneath his calloused palms. It has him wondering how it would feel to have that velvety skin squished around his cock and as he fucks your breasts. Neteyam swallows back the pooling saliva on his tongue, a string of it still connecting his lips to where he laid his last mark on your tits. It’s almost tempting enough to forgo his plans altogether and sate his lust driven curiosity, but Neteyam shakes it away.

The two of you will have plenty of time to experiment later. 

“Teyam, please no more. It’s too much!” Your pleas have died down in volume. Now they are coated with your labored breath as you try to control the pounding of your heart. 

“Too much, princess?” He questions and guides his hand down south to rest over your loincloth. “Or not enough?” When he cups your pussy through the fabric you roll up against him and chase whatever friction he is willing to give.  

It’s not nearly enough, he can tell from your disappointed expression when he pulls away entirely. Pupils blown wide and chest heaving to catch your breath, you remain silent as he reaches for the pouch attached to his tewng. 

Neteyam pulls out a line of woven crystals, much like the ones you wear in your hair but these were foraged from the caves near his home. There are fastens on either end of the chain that took far too much time for him to craft. 

“Is that for me?” Naturally you ask, that pretty face already showing how quick you are to forget what he was doing to you mere seconds ago once a shiny gift is presented. Neteyam fights the curve of his lips and keeps his every from rolling. Always so predictable.

“Just for you, princess.”

He had crafted it after his last visit to your village. Far before the Olangi clan thought the threat of Sky People was great enough to require protection but him and his father had been there to spread the news regardless. He knew before you even spoke that you thought the world was at your feet. Even the way you walked, spoke of a spoiled elegance. And when he had tried to sate his curiosity towards you with a conversation you were nothing but rude and spiteful towards him.

He knew then that you were going to be his, one or another. 

And so he started foraging for the crystals that first night back. 

“So pretty,” you murmur, voice airy. Those golden eyes narrow as you squint to look at it. Despite your current position and already wrecked voice, a sneaky little smirk forms over your lips. “But you miscounted. My hair is much longer than that.”

He lets you have your moment, watches as you grin up at him as if you have finally landed a critical blow. All for that to sizzle out when he bends down to whisper in your ear. 

“Who said anything about your hair?” 

The confused scrunch of your features doesn’t last long when he begins running the cool metal of the clamps up and down your right nipple. Nipple clamps are not a traditional erotic tool for the Na’vi so he’s certain you don’t believe your first instinct as to where that is going until he starts to pinch the right one to prepare it. 

“Neteyam, no! Get that away-” He clasps his other hand over your mouth again. Always the demands with you. Sooner than later you will learn that begging gets you a lot further with him. It’s a little trickier to prepare with only one hand available but Neteyam manages. 

The alpha plants a knee across your pelvis to keep you place while his right hand tugs at your nipples to confirm they are pointed enough to clamp onto. When the first clamp goes on your right nipple, your screeching goes up an octave. You know what to expect better when the left one is attached but that doesn’t diminish your reaction. 

Lovely little drama queen you are, the fit that follows is inevitable. He’s tested the clamps and consulted with several Sky People before deciding to use them on you so he knows there isn’t any real damage being done. Still, you are going to squirm and screech and, were it not for his hand, probably shout every insult you can think of at him, because you have never been punished like this. And your tantrums are what has worked for you in the past. 

He lets you fight it out as he holds you down. Neteyam doesn’t mind as it gives him time to admire his handy work. The chain of crystal connecting the clamps hang exquisitely between your curves. Those stiff points have turned a new shade of purple as they peek out between the clamp’s teeth. 

“Enough.” Neteyam finally quips back, tugging at the chain. A mix between a moan and groan rumbles from your throat. Once his hand has retreated he can hear the sound properly. Keeping his pointer finger curled around the crystal chain, the prince raises a warning brow at you. “Are you done throwing your fit?”

He watches your pupils dilate and lips curl into a pout.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you like my gift?” 

“It hurts.” You whimper with a quivering bottom lip. It’s difficult to say how genuine the reaction is considering what a good little actress you are. 

He nods his head, mocking your pout with a feigned one upon his own lips. That only whips your stare into pointed daggers. 

“It’s supposed to, tiyawn. That’s why it is called punishment.” He kisses right above your left clamped nipple. “A term you may become very familiar with if you don’t fix your attitude.” 

Pulling back from where you glare, Neteyam settles himself beside you on his side. His left arm props against the rock to casually support his head while the right drags down your torso. The alpha’s ears perks at the little hiss you release when he just barely brushes the chain but he continues down south. 

Another time when the moon is still out he will kiss every little tanhi that dots your precious body until you cry for more. For now, he is only focused on one location. 

Neteyam can sense the heat of your core the second his fingertips slip beneath your loincloth’s waistband. You are soft and wet, just like he had imagined so many times. Flared nostrils greedily inhale your scent as he pauses to cup your entire pussy. Much like before, you can’t help but react to his touch. With a little more pressure in his firm hold, a trickle of wetness drops onto his palm. 

Fuck, you are inescapable!

You may believe he is to blame for this arrangement but the truth is you are the one that has trapped him since the moment he caught a whiff of your essence. It is him that has been utterly destroyed by his constant thoughts of you. 

“But I know that isn’t all there is to it, is there?” He continues, softly kissing your shoulder. “It’s not just pain you feel. There’s something else.” 

Your poor bottom lip has been utterly abused by your sharp teeth. Whatever sacrifice it takes for you to keep from admitting the truth to him. He discards your tewng with one hand. 

“A unique sense of-” He spreads your folds to suddenly massage your peeking clit with his pointer finger, stealing a gasp from you. “Pleasure.” Neteyam finishes with a grin. 

You turn to putty in his hands. The tension riddled along your muscles unravel as he rubs circles along your clit with just the right amount of pressure. When he clasps the chain between his teeth and tugs your eyes fly open, taking in your surroundings as if the pleasure has made you forget where you are entirely. 

“Can’t space out on me yet, princess. We still have more to discuss.” 

Talking appears to be the last thing on your mind, hips already rolling to hump against his hand. So close to the edge already that it causes a burst of pride to warm in his chest. Warm thighs bracket his hand as if afraid it will pull away at any moment. Smiling softly at the display, Neteyam smoothly covers your upper body with his own, nose to nose in a matter of seconds. 

There is nowhere for you to hide now, every microreaction bared for him. Those vibrant eyes remain locked on his own, but he catches the way they occasionally dart to his lips before returning. 

He doesn’t need to be told twice. 

Your lips against his are like decadent chocolate, the swirl of his tongue around your own is another burst of flavor he simply can not get enough of. And so the prince swirls the kiss into a languid roll of passion that leaves your lips ruby red and breaths coming out in puffs once he pulls away. 

His hand is drenched in your juices. So much so that when he switches to his thumb rubbing your clit and pointer finger tapping at your entrance, those soaking walls capture him at the first sign of intrusion. Your tight heat sucks in the first digit, pulsing around him greedily as your eyes roll back. 

Another tug to the chain and he has your attention again. 

“Let’s start with an easy question, tiyawn.” He starts. “What were you going to do to Ke’ve?”

Smart little thing that you are, or perhaps manipulative is a more accurate term, you act as if the pleasure has completely swept you away from understanding him. Beautiful little whimpers rumble in your throat and a look of pure lust crosses over your deceivingly innocent features. 

Neteyam isn’t willing to wait to see how you act your way out of this. 

His finger stops curling and thumb halts before his other hand pushes your thigh upward so that he can land a crackling spank to your ass. 

“Princess,” Neteyam drawls out in a mocking sing-song voice. “I’m running out of patience.”

The charade drops but your body trembles from the sudden lack of stimulation. 

“I was going to distract him.” It’s spoken so softly that his ears twitch and strain to make sure he hears you correctly. The finger inside of you restarts, curling up against your g spot while his thumb torments that bundle of nerves from the other side. 

“That’s a nice way of putting it.” He slots his face against the slope of your throat. The fragrance that is so uniquely you is especially strong here so there is no stopping the way his tongue naturally flicks out to draw a wet line from your collarbones to jaw. “Let me be more specific. How were you going to distract him?”

The context clues were clearly enough to put two and two together, but he still demands that you say it out loud. The first step to developing remorse is acknowledging what was done. 

When you take your time thinking up a strategic answer he cruelly pulls his finger out and jams a second one back with it on the thrust. Your toes curl and your face is turned to bury in your hair. 

“Princess.” 

No response, just a small whine as he scissor his long digits to stretch those velvet walls. 

“Were you going to suck his cock?” 

Your silence is rewarded with his hand stilling. The disappointment has your lips parting to no doubt say something far outside of a good girl’s vocabulary, but one raised brow has you falter in that decision. 

He twirls the middle of the chain around one finger so it is shortened and with each word he tugs it back sharply. 

“Were. You. Going. To. Suck. His. Cock.” 

“Ah mm Yes!” You gasp, eyes squeezed shut but pussy wildly pulsing around his fingers. 

“That’s what I thought.” He revels in the naive relief you exhibit when he begins his ministrations between your thighs again. How cute of you to think that a little truth would forgive your earlier sins. 

Neteyam prowls down your body, savoring the slide of your skin against his own until he is settled between your thighs that are now pushed over his shoulders and he has an unobstructed view of your greedy cunt. While diligently pushing you closer to an orgasm, the alpha takes special care to decide where his next visual claim will be laid. He decides on two spots. 

The first one is atop your upper thigh where it will be in clear view of anyone you come across and the second is harshly sucked into the sensitive flesh of your left inner thigh. 

“You will never walk upon Omatikay soil without my marks.” 

You don’t appear to hear him.

“Oh mm Neteyam…feels so good.” 

It might just be the first good thing you’ve said all day and his inner alpha purrs in deep satisfaction. Unfortunately for you, punishment comes before rewards. 

Retracting his hand entirely, Neteyam swipes the remnants of your sticky arousal over your inner thighs, painting his beautiful canvas. There is no time to complain at the loss before he is running the flat of his tongue from your convulsing pussy up over your clit and even navel. 

That wet muscle dances along and between your folds in practiced precision. Your essence tantalizes his very tastebuds until he is producing so much saliva that it is difficult to say how much of the wet mess at your apex is made from him versus you. He supposes in some ways he is responsible for both. 

The prince’s lips shine with the evidence when he pulls back to speak. 

“Do good girls do that?”

“Huh…what?” 

“Do good girls try to suck cocks that are not their alpha’s?” He reiterates, weaving a firm steel into his voice. 

“I…uh…no,” Comes your timid response. 

Those thick lashes flutter when he returns to feasting on your delicious cunt. It only lasts for a second, however, before he is speaking against the soft skin of your thighs. 

“That’s right, tiyawn. Good omegas know who they belong to.”

Your body jolts as if stung by lightning when his thumb rubs at your sensitive nub again. He can see it in your face now. His omega is just barely tipping on the edge of release. 

“So what do you think you should do about it?”

Breath borderline erratic the muscles in your legs tense in anticipation of that wonderful release. The same one that he roughly rips away when you don’t respond, not daring to even breath across your cunt. 

“No no please! I’m so close! Just a little longer. I wanna come!” 

“What do you think you should do about it?” Neteyam repeats, tampering down the smirk that threatens to cross his lips when he sees the way you whine and tugs at your bonds. 

“For…for what?” You’re so genuinely confused he has to hold back a coo at how adorable you look. 

“What do you think you should do to make up for trying to suck his cock?”

That little head of yours is working overtime to craft an intelligent response. It becomes all that much harder when he starts playing with your clit again, keeping you tantalizingly close to the edge but never over. 

“I…I could…I..”

“Yes?” Neteyam considers himself very patient but he is forced to halt his touch when you take too long to respond and get far too close to coming. 

“No wait! Why did you stop?” Your foot stomps against the rock like the spoiled brat that you are, so utterly confused and crestfallen at being denied for the first time. Has any male ever even tried to edge you? If your response is anything to go off of, it’s clear that he will be the first to teach you the joys of orgasm denial too. 

“Answer my question, oeyӓ tiyawn [my love].” 

Frustrated tears run from the corner of your eyes and this time Neteyam is positive they are genuine. Your little pout is broken by sharp teeth torturing your bottom lip again while you try to get a hold of yourself to respond properly. 

“I…I could suck your cock.” It comes out almost as a question but the prince is eager to take it. 

“There you go.” He hoists himself up to deposit a kiss on your lips before shrinking back down and continuing a very special kiss between your legs. Your pretty thighs immediately clamp around his head, shaking so hard he can feel the vibrations. As much as he wants to taste your release properly he can’t pass up the opportunity to see your face for the first time as you come.

So the alpha escapes the cage of your thighs and replaces his tongue with skilled fingers the fuck up into your pussy and play with that precious bundle of nerves. He kisses his way up your body, this time being mindful of the crystal chain, until he is nuzzling against your cheek. The woodsy essence of his own scent will integrate there, letting everyone know that you have been claimed. 

“Such a smart girl my omega is. So good for her alpha.” 

That is your undoing. Like a woven tapestry he watches you unravel into an explosion of pure ecstasy. All of this time you’ve denied yourself the wondrous caress of an alpha’s praise. It’s left you with no defenses once finally showered with his sweet words. Neteyam groans deeply beneath your whiny scream, savoring the way his hand is now properly drenched as he rides you through the orgasm. 

You don’t register when Neteyam pulls away. In fact your head is so high above the clouds that it’s only when your hands drop like a dead weight against the boulder that you realize Neteyam has cut your bonds. 

It feels as if the world is a hazy blur of color, everything so vibrant and wondrous as you come down from that high. Even the simple kisses Neteyam gives to each of your wrists feels like drinking sunshine. In fact it is so incredible that you instantly crave more. 

More of him. 

More of this electric pleasure.

Anything and everything that has brought you into such a happy state. 

However, when the prince comes to carefully help you off the boulder and back onto your feet, it’s suddenly clear what it will take to get another taste of cloud nine. And in this case, that means tasting him. 

Neteyam hardly needs to prompt you onto your knees. Whatever is brewing inside of you is now your new addiction and somehow being at eye level with his crotch has never seemed more appealing. Your alpha wants you to atone for your sins, perhaps then he will grant you another orgasm. Well if taking him down your throat is redemption then you are going to be good at this game. 

Past experience is the foundation of your confidence. 

Hands still shaking with aftershock, they fumble to get a hold of his tewng. You’re about to catch hold of the waistband and simply rip the fabric down when strong hands catch your wrists. You look up at him in bewilderment. What type of man stops a woman on her knees second before he is about to get his dick sucked?

“We’re not going to do this your way, princess. If you want to make it up to me then you will learn to follow my instructions.” 

In some ways it’s borderline insulting. What is wrong with the way you suck a male off? No man has ever complained. And if they did, how would Neteyam even know? He’s never experienced nor witnessed what you do. But of course as an alpha he must believe he knows best. 

Typical.

Those thoughts don’t bubble into words, however, because as much as you would like to prove how fucking fantastic you are all on your own, you don’t want it more than another orgasm. Preferably by the means of his skilled tongue.

When he drops your wrists you shift uncomfortably, both impatience and the tight press of the clamps around your nipples creates the undeniable need to squirm. All while Neteyam simply watches you from above, perfectly calm and entertained by your position. 

That is until you go to shift the clamps and your wrists are immediately snagged again. 

“Did I say you could touch that?” He asks, that smooth voice taking on a smoky edge. Just when you are about to pout, however, Neteyam pulls your hands to place them along his upper thighs. You don’t need to be told twice. Running your hands along the smooth skin and squeezing the corded muscle there is a nice enough distraction to silence your objections. 

That is, until a new distraction presents itself. 

His long fingers carefully start to undo the ties of his tewng. Done at such a leisured pace it’s obvious he is determined to torture you, even pausing at one point to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before finally lets the cloth fall away. 

Excitement quickly mingles with apprehension when you see what you are faced with. 

Beta males have always satisfied you with their size, just enough to make you choke a little and hit that special spot inside of you. However, you’ve forgotten entirely what it means to be with an alpha. Neteyam’s cock curves up against his lower abs, fully hard and already sporting a drop of precum. But even the thought of fitting your mouth around that bulbous head, let alone trying to get the massive length down your throat makes your ears begin to twitch. 

All confidence quickly drains from your face. 

“Are you ready to listen now?” 

Finally peeling your gaze away from his twitching cock, you look up at him to see him staring down at you with the same intensity. 

“Yes.” You whisper, suddenly grateful for promised instruction now that you’ve been properly thrown for a loop. Perhaps you should have branched out to fucking with alphas at least once, just to know the difference properly. Because now you feel like a proper virgin waiting for their first lesson on giving a blow job. 

Surprisingly there is one feeling that rises higher than your trepidation.

Curiosity. 

Somehow the challenge before you sparks a further interest. A need to map out every part of his body until it has become less mysterious. Until it feels familiar beneath your hands.

And as if Neteyam can read your thoughts, he says, “You can explore now, tiyawn. Take your time.” 

Take your time. Not the direction you would expect from a male whose cock is fully hard and jerking against his lower stomach. You had thought all alphas to be forceful, wanting to claim and fuck in a quick and dirty fashion. But Neteyam stays true to his word when your hands slowly travel up his thighs. 

You are given more than enough time to familiarize yourself with the area. You start small, running the pads of your fingers down his muscular abdomen to feel each and every muscle there. Then once a little bit of confidence has been regained they come to rest around his base. 

The dark blue shade of his skin elegantly bleeds into a beautiful purple the closer to the tip it goes. All to then end on a subdued shade of pink along his head and balls. Even without the moonlight you can make out the small tanhi that dot along his skin. They lead along the side, creating a trail beside the thick vein lacing the underside of this cock before fanning out around the tip. As if they were perfectly crafted to entice your eyes towards the prize. 

Neteyam’s tail lashes the first time you run your fingers over him. His arousal is an essence that infiltrates the very air around you like a thick cloud. Surely he must be anxious for you to hurry up, but the prince keeps his body strictly in place for your exploration. 

It is only when he catches your tongue swiping over your bottom lip that he speaks up. 

“You can use your tongue, tiyawn.” With an inaudible gasp you pull back in surprise, practically forgetting he was there. An amused grin shows off his pearly white teeth, never faltering as you hesitate for a moment. “Are you feeling shy, princess?” 

“No.” You bite back even as your stomach does a somersault. 

“Remember, I will guide you. No need to stress.” His fingers run through your scalp and in spite of how good that feels you rear back and glare at him. 

You don’t need help. And you sure as hell are not shy. So what if you are a little caught off guard? That does not give him the right to treat you like an omega virgin ripe for the picking. 

So you draw forward and boldly draw the flat of your tongue slowly from the base to tip. Much like he had done between your own thighs. Because much like him, you are not afraid and you are not one to hand the reins over easily. 

What you do not anticipate is how the taste of him blossoms over your tastebuds. It sends a thrill through you that is difficult to conceal as you go in for another taste. It gets sloppy very quickly. The moment you try to take the head into your mouth, your nerves get the better of you and that ends up making you draw back. 

Just in time as Neteyam slots a hand in your dark locks and grabs hold of the roots. “Why are you rushing, omega?” 

“I am not.” 

“Follow my directions. No need to prove yourself.” He says, but he already wears a crooked smirk. 

It continues like this back and forth until you are finally tired of having your head yanked back by your hair so you wait for his instructions. Neteyam is meticulous in the way he has you explore, the way he forces you to taste him before even giving you the chance to take him into your mouth. 

But when you do finally take in the first few inches your inner omega springs forth without reserve. You feel every ridge and vein of his cock as they slip past your outstretched lips. And that stretch, that utterly deniable feeling of being stretched full, is what has you drawing in for more. 

Before now being on your knees has always felt like a place of power. You’ve riddle men down to whimpering messes just by the skilled trace of your tongue. You’ve swallowed everything they’ve had to give while they’ve sung curses to the sky. It is them that is rendered entirely insatiable as you hold their pleasure in the palm of your hand. 

It doesn’t feel that way now. 

It’s hard to determine what he awakens within you but every time you are pulled off of his cock and told to take a moment to breathe, it is you that feels insatiable. You figured it would get better once Neteyam fell deep enough into his own ecstasy but somehow the evidence of his pleasure only escalates your own addiction. You can never get enough of him. 

Never will you tire of seeing his magnificent neck on display when he throws his head back with a rumbled groan. Never will you suck down the taste of him enough to satisfy your carnal desires. And never will there be a more magnificent feeling than the wash of his praise over you as your throat contracts and you gags around him. 

It is him that leaves you ravenous. 

“All the way down now, princess. That’s it, you can take it.” 

You’d take just about anything this man says at gospel at this point. A fact that is evident by the way you no longer hesitate to sheath him down your throat when commanded. And when those sinfully gorgeous hips start to move, you fight every need for breath and simply let him fuck your throat without complaint. 

In fact it is you that complains when you are given a chance to breathe, tears streaking down your face and drool coating your chin. 

“No whining.” Neteyam tsks, wagging a finger playfully. It would normally piss you off but now it only registers as the absence of praise. So when he continues to the pattern, moaning and bucking his hips only to pull off seconds later, you bite back the urge to cry and beg for his cum. “Just get me wet, princess. Tongue out. There you go.” 

It makes no sense, but then again that seems to be the theme when it comes to Neteyam. He demands you suck him off only to deny you the pleasure of feeling him shoot down your throat. Your pretty face is nothing but a mess of tears and spit when he finally rears you back for the last time. For a moment it seems possible he will jerk himself off and finish across your face or pinched nipples but his next direction has your tail tucking. 

“There’s my good girl. Now stand up for me.” 

“Neteyam.” You whine but he is quick to grab hold of that crystal chain and force you to your feet as your nipples ache. 

“Are you still wet for me, omega? Spread your legs.” He slides a hand between your thighs to inspect the evidence of just how aroused you truly are. “Very good girl.” He grins against your ear, as if he didn’t already know how desperate he has made you. 

It’s only a second of attention to your clit before he is taking your hand and dragging you through the forest. 

Neteyam has always been known for being meticulous. Or in Lo’ak’s words, obsessive. He has lived his life with a plan and great attention to detail. So when he has you following him, your hand in his own, he can’t help but look for the perfect spot to take you. The ideal place where he can admire you spread out for him and finally experience what it is to be inside of that sweet little body. 

He’s pleased to find you put up no fuss when he coerces you onto your stomach with your face down and ass up. In fact, your spine curves as you look back at him, a seductive gleam in your eyes that says you are still not above playing games to get what you want. 

“M’ready.” You sigh against the grass, tail curling upwards to give him access. It may as well be the equivalent of snapping your fingers in a fetching command. Regardless, Neteyam decides to let you off this time, especially when you are creating the most gorgeous display for him. 

Your pussy clenches around open air, your cunt an absolute mess that has dripped down between your thighs. There is no mistaking what you want. 

But that doesn’t mean that is what you’re going to get. 

You don’t immediately react when he uses both hands to knead and spread your plump cheeks apart, but when he begins to push a finger at your tightest hole, you squeak and draw back. With a stern hand gripping your hip he pulls you back against him where he kneels. Tentatively you trust him once more only to squirm when he only sticks his fingers into your pussy in order to collect your slick arousal and spread it between your cheeks. 

“Neteyam!”

“Mawey, princess. You’ll like it, I promise.” And you will, despite your better judgment. 

“No, not there!” Were it not for the hazy glow he has you in now you surely would claw his eyes out for even suggesting such a thing but with his thumb reaching down to rub at your sensitive clit, your defenses are greatly weakened. 

“And why not, tiyawn?”

“I want you to fuck me.” You drawl with a whine. 

“And I am.” Neteyam slinks up so his chest is pressed against your back, pushing away your hair so he can whisper in your ear. “I am going to fuck my spoiled brat until the only words she can manage to utter are thank you and my name.”

You sputter at his sensual words, pussy trying to clamp around the finger that swirls through your juices. 

“But that’s…t-that’s not what I mean.” 

“Are you nervous, tiyawn?”

“N-no.”

“No male has ever tried to stretch this little hole before, have they?” 

You simply attempt to tuck your face away from him as it turns a lovely shade of red. Neteyam grins and kisses your cheek. 

“I am going to take every first you have left, princess. I will fuck all of your holes over and over again, including this naughty little hole.” A shudder ripples through your trapped frame. “Your greedy pussy too but the first time I do that we will bonded beneath Vitraya Ramunong so until then…” He grips your hip to keep you in place when his lubed finger finally starts pushing past that clenching rim.

“Breathe oeyӓ tiyawn.” He hushes your whines. It takes considerable effort to coax you into relaxing for him but Neteyam finds that the right amount of praise and gentle kisses seems to get the job done. 

Fuck, you are so incredibly tight! It feels as if you are trying to cut off the circulation in his fingers as he adds another. His heart races at those pulsing walls around his cock. You do nothing to aid his patience as little pants filtering from your lips and soon your eyes are fluttering closed. 

You won’t want to admit it, but this new pleasure has you entirely hooked. A strange sensation no doubt, and even uncomfortable at times he can tell as you struggle to take a third finger but so too do you eventually start pushing your hips back against the intrusion. 

Holding you in place is no longer required, allowing his other hand to slip to the front of your body and resume strumming your clit. Grass becomes intertwined with the sparkling crystals in your hair due to the way you keep turning your head to whine and squirm. 

“I wish you could see how perfect you look like this. Sweet little ass sucking in my fingers like it was made for this. I knew I’d see you like this someday, my pretty brat learning to behave.”

“F-fuck you.” You sputter.

Neteyam can’t even find it within himself to be mad when you are clenching around him like this. He’ll take care of that naughty mouth soon, but for now he is content to focus on making your body fully submit to him. 

“As you wish, omega.” 

The prince pulls his fingers out and makes sure to spread more of your natural lube over his cock. He feels like he could bust any moment just looking at your hole clenching at the loss. The gleam in your eyes when he lines the head of his cock up to your tightest hole gives him all the information he needs to know. 

“Teyam!” You gasp just before his head makes it past the entrance. 

“Doing so good for me, omega. Stay nice and relaxed.”

“It’s not going to fit.” The protest is greatly undermined by the way your pussy leaks juices down your thigh. 

“Don’t worry, princess. I’ll make it fit.” 

And true to his word, Neteyam patiently rears forward and rubs sinful circles over your clit until his pelvis is cushioned by your plush ass. 

“Oh my Eywa!” You quiver, thighs no longer doing the work to keep you up. 

“What was it you said about getting off your ass?”

“You fucking…Oh…asshole.” Your insults are barely tangible as he begins with shallow thrusts. “Oh my…oh…aahh.”

“Different than you thought, isn’t it?” He smirks, but even he has to close his eyes and take a moment to breathe. Your walls cinch around him so tightly it feels as if you're trying to strangle his cock. Even his shallow thrusts take considerable effort, even more difficult not to prematurely fill you with his seed every time those gummy walls pulse. “Deep breathes. Let yourself enjoy it.” 

“M-more.”

His ears perk, wondering if he has misheard you.

“What was-”

“More! Move now! Move fucking now I swear-” The air is punched from your lungs when he harshly rears back to the tip before plunging himself all the way inside again. The noise that escapes you is one he has never heard before and he knows for a fact that it rings loud enough through the trees for the others to detect. 

Grasping a handful of hair he pulls you up onto your knees so that your back is flush against his chest. From this vantage point he can see the crystal chain sparkling in the sunlight. 

“Is that any way to ask for what you want?” He rumbles against your ear. 

The sound of clapping skin echoes through the forest as you eagerly push yourself back against his now brutal pace. 

“Teyamteyamteyam,” Comes your endless spew, head thrown back against his shoulder. He’s too lost in his own ecstasy to chew you out for not answering his question. Instead he roughly manhandles you off of his cock and pushes you to lay down on your back. 

“But-”

Legs thrown around his waist he sinks back inside to the hilt. “You need to learn some fucking patience, princess.”

“I’m sorryyyyy!” You drawl but those little hands are already grasp at his biceps, demanding that he slots himself closer. Looking down he swears he can practically see his cock moving in your stomach. 

“How are these pretty tits doing, hm?” Swooping down, he leaves sloppy kisses around your secured nipples, groaning when your fingers claws at his hair to pull him closer. “Tell me the truth now, princess. Tell me how much you love me my cock in your ass.” 

He knows you're far gone when a response comes back without any fight. “I love..ngh..ah…I love your cock in my ass. Don’t stop, alpha. Pleasepleaseplease.” 

“Take a breath for me.” He commands softly and the second you comply he undoes both claps in tandem. In some ways he has heard that taking them off is more painful than putting them on. If that is true, you must have a secret love for such pain because you bare down on him so hard that it takes everything within him not to bust inside of you. 

“Fuck!” You curse, yanking him down impossibly closer. “Neteyam!” 

“Good girl, princess. My good girl.” He murmurs between sloppy kisses laid on your chest. He licks gently over your pointed nipples in efforts to soothe them. 

Neteyam’s own patience is quickly unraveling but he wants to come in time with you. He wants you to squirt across him as he paints your walls white. So with his own breaths coming out in pants and hips ricketing at a desperate speed, he reaches between you and assaults that little bundle of nerves. 

“Come on, brat. Do as you're told for once and come for me.” 

You steal the very air from his lungs. Your silky walls milk him dry as you come around him. Stars dot his vision and his abdomen flexes at the pure pressure of his own release. He spills himself inside of you as your nails dig into his shoulder blades. 

When he finally does come down from that high, your grip won’t release. His name is a whispered mantra on your lips as you pull his heavy body atop of yours. He falls without resistance, crushing you beneath him. 

You’re overwhelmed. It makes him both proud and spiteful that no other male has truly managed to get you into this floaty state before. From the way you claw at him as if he is the very oxygen you rely on, it’s clear you don’t know how to handle such new intense emotions. To think you’ve gone so many years without truly satisfying your omega. 

“I’ve got you, omega. Your alpha’s here.” He tries to prop himself up on an elbow to relieve some of his body weight from you, but that has your panic rising. With an endless draw of sweet nothings he presses himself back down just in time for your lips to demand his. 

That anxiety gradually smoothes away the longer he indulges the impromptu makeout session. When his tongue swirls around yours, your movements become more leisurely. Even the very nature of the kiss becomes lazy while you softly play with his neat braids. 

“Teyam…”

“Yes princess?” He checks to make sure your breathing has finally turned back to normal after pulling away. 

“I’m ready to sleep.” You say as a matter of fact. 

“No tiyawn we still-” It’s too late. Chest somehow managing to rise and fall beneath his weight and eyes fluttered closed, you are dead to the world. Very typical fashion for you to simply state your wants as reality without waiting for any protests. 

He rolls his eyes fondly before carefully situating both of you onto your sides. His legs feel like thin vines walloping in the wind. Neteyam has to hold back a groan when he finally manages to slip out of you. Bathing in the sunlight with you tucked against his side, he allows himself one moment to recover and bask in the feeling. 

And when that moment is gone, he does everything in his power to dress and clean up both of you without disturbing your slumber. Your hair is still tangled and the echoing screams are sure to be enough evidence of what has happened between you two but when he walks out carrying you bridal style, he playfully glares at the other males who are anxious to make their teasing comments. They will beat him up about it later, for now it is important that you sleep. 

With narrowed eyes and a hiss he demands their silence before he situates you in front of him on the pa’li. Facing sideways on the horse you snuggle closer in your sleep, body shivering. You only wake for a second so that he can slip his thick poncho over the both of you. This way you are kept warm and eyes are shielded from the sun as you sleep.

“Well?” Tak’nal, his second in command, asks with a raised brow. 

“Problem solved.” Neteyam says simply. “Let’s go home.”

Writing this felt like a fever dream😂🫠 Please don't be shy, let me know what you think😚💗

Unofficial Taglist: @pandoraslxna @ikeyniofthetayrangi @plantgirliewholovespandora @nakedinthetrees

[sweetvoidstuff]

Bound by Fate, Chosen by Love I Part 1

Jungkook x Reader I Werwolf x Witch I Fated Mates I Slow Burn I Strangers to Lovers I Supernatural Romance I Protective Jungkook

Summary : A witch bound by duty. A werewolf bound by instinct. When fate intertwines their paths, they must decide if love is worth defying expectations. Hunters threaten their people, forcing them to fight side by side. As tensions rise, so does the pull between them—soft moments turning into something far more intense. A quiet invitation, a lingering touch, a whispered question that changes everything. In the end, choice matters more than destiny. But with danger still lurking, will they have the chance to choose each other?

Word Count: 42K

Masterlist

A/N: Well, I wanted to post this as one, but Tumblr won’t let me… so I’ll be posting Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3 back to back. Sorry about that! Hope you still enjoy it!

Part 2 / Part 3 / Epilog

The scent of blood clung thick in the air, mingling with the dying embers of the village’s fires. Jungkook stood at the center of the devastation, his hands clenched into tight fists, nails still lengthened into claws from the fight. Sweat and blood coated his skin—some his own, but not all of it. Far from it. His chest heaved as he struggled to steady his breath.

Around him, his pack moved swiftly—gathering the wounded, checking the fallen. They had fought hard, but the ambush had been unexpected. Hunters had found them.

Namjoon lay motionless on the ground, his usually strong and commanding presence dimmed by the severity of his wounds. Seokjin knelt beside him, pressing firm hands against a deep gash along Namjoon’s side, his face tight with worry.

“We can’t treat this here,” Seokjin said, his voice rough with strain. “The wound is poisoned, cursed, I don’t know. Normal healing won’t work.”

Fear clung to his words. If their Alpha, their leader, there friend died… there would be others to take Namjoon’s place—Jungkook and Seokjin among them. But so soon after such a devastating attack, a power struggle would only weaken the pack further.

Jungkook cursed under his breath. He knew what had to be done.

“The witches,” he said, the words tasting forbidden on his tongue.

Seokjin’s eyes snapped up to meet his. “You know it’s forbidden to cross the valley,” he murmured, voice low, as if even speaking of it would summon trouble.

“I don’t care,” Jungkook growled. “If there’s even a chance they can help, I’ll take it.”

The werewolves had always been wary of the witches who lived beyond the valley, deep within the hidden grove. Myths claimed they were descendants of the devil, that they meddled in dark magic. But Jungkook had never put much stock in those stories. The truth was, their kinds hadn’t mixed for centuries. Not enemies, not allies—just strangers who respected the unspoken boundary between them.

But he would break that boundary tonight.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The night was heavy with mist as Jungkook approached the village hidden within the thick embrace of the forest. The air hummed with a power he had never felt before—subtle but undeniable. The trees seemed taller, the shadows deeper, longer, as if the very land itself was old but alive. He shifted back into his human form as he neared the entrance, not wanting to provoke a reaction by approaching as a wolf.

Jungkook barely made it past the first set of dwellings before three hooded figures emerged from the darkness, surrounding him. Their movements were precise, silent, and before he could decide whether to fight or speak, one of them grabbed his arm.

“You will come with us.”

Jungkook didn’t resist. He went willingly—fighting would do nothing but worsen his chances. He was here to plead, not to battle. His people had suffered enough.

The witches led him through winding stone paths, deeper into the heart of their village. Eventually, they reached what looked like a grand council hall, its high ceilings glowing with floating candles, its walls lined with ancient symbols that pulsed faintly with power—none of which Jungkook had ever seen before.

At the center of the room sat an elderly woman, her hair white as snow, neatly pinned in a bun. Her wrinkled eyes held a sharpness that spoke of wisdom and experience. She wore a simple black dress, a dark brown knitted shawl draped over her shoulders, her presence both commanding and eerily calm. She spoke in hushed tones with someone seated beside her—someone who caught Jungkook’s attention for only a second before he was shoved forward, forced to his knees before the elder.

The old woman studied him with knowing eyes.

“A werewolf in our village is an unusual sight,” she said. “Why have you come?”

Jungkook took a deep breath, his voice steady but urgent.

"My pack was attacked by hunters. Our leader, Namjoon, is dying. The wound – we have no way to heal him, but your coven might. Please—I am asking for your help."

Hushed whispers filled the hall. The mere mention of hunters sent a ripple of unease through the gathered witches. A long silence stretched between them before the old woman finally sighed, shaking her head.

"I am sorry for your inevitable loss," she said, her tone laced with genuine sympathy. "But we will not spare a healer. Not when the risk is so high."

Jungkook’s jaw clenched, his fists curling at his sides. Fury burned hot in his chest. "You would let someone die when you could save him?" he snapped. "What kind of magic do you practice if it lets you turn your back on those in need?"

Jungkook’s jaw clenched, his fists curling at his sides. Fury burned hot in his chest.

Before anyone could say more, you spoke.

“I will go.”

The room erupted.

“You cannot!”

A man standing near you—clearly a guardian of some kind, given the leather tunic and sword at his hip—stepped forward in protest. His dark eyes flashed with barely contained anger. “You are to be the next coven leader! You can’t risk yourself like this.”

His voice, though laced with frustration, carried a melodic smoothness that could captivate anyone who listened. If Jungkook hadn’t had heightened hearing, he might have missed it.

The old woman beside you—your grandmother, Jungkook realized—looked equally outraged.

“We will not allow it,” she said firmly.

But you didn’t waver.

“This is not up for debate, Jimin, Grandma,” you said, voice unwavering. “If we don’t value life, then why teach me compassion in the first place?”

Your grandmother exhaled through her nose, clearly displeased but knowing she could not sway you. Jimin, however, wasn’t done fighting. He stepped even closer to you, his presence protective, his stance firm. Jungkook clenched his jaw, a sharp irritation flaring within him. It was unreasonable—he knew that—but the way your guard hovered so close to you made something in him bristle.

"Then I’ll come with you," Jimin insisted, his voice tight. "I will not let you go unprotected."

"The journey will take three long days on foot," your grandmother agreed. "Through dangerous terrain, and the risk of hunters seems high. If you leave at sunrise, you may have a better chance of avoiding them. I will ward you with protection.”

Jungkook forced his focus back to the conversation, though the irritation lingered beneath his skin. "We won’t be going on foot," he said. "In my wolf form, I can carry you. We’ll be way faster that way. My people… many were already at the brink of dead when I left for help."

Jimin’s expression darkened snapping at Jungkook at the suggestion, his lips pressing into a thin line. Jungkook could practically feel the waves of protest rolling off him. The idea of you leaving with a werewolf clearly did not sit well with him, and for some reason, that only aggravated Jungkook further.

You, however, had already made up your mind.

"Then we leave in an hour," you said, ignoring the tension between the two men. "I need time to gather what I might need—medicines, supplies, charms for protection." Your eyes flickered to Jungkook. "You should use that time to rest. You look like you need it."

Jungkook exhaled slowly, nodding. He wouldn’t argue. His body still ached from the battle, and if they were to travel fast, he would need his full strength.

Jimin wasn’t ready to back down. He stepped closer, voice edged with disbelief.

“This is reckless,” he argued. “You—of all people—leaving with a stranger? A werewolf? In the middle of the night?” His tone was sharp, laced with concern and anger. "Do you even hear yourself?"

Jungkook was on his feet in an instant. The sheer ridiculousness of the situation struck him—did they really think he would harm you? He had come here, humbled himself before your people, and still, your guard stood as if he were some mindless beast ready to strike. His irritation flared, but he pushed it down, focusing instead on what truly mattered.

Jimin moved swiftly, placing himself between you and Jungkook, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. The air in the chamber grew thick with tension, the silent challenge crackling like fire between them.

Jungkook squared his shoulders, meeting Jimin’s stare head-on. His voice was no longer just steady—it was unshakable.

“I swear on my life and the honor of my pack,” he declared, his gaze locking onto yours. “As long as you are with me to help my people, I will lay down my life before yours. No harm will come to you—not while I still breathe.”

The words rang through the hall like iron striking stone, unwavering and absolute. Jimin’s fingers twitched against his sword, his instincts screaming at him to remain wary. But before the tension could spiral further, your hand came to rest on Jimin’s shoulder.

It was a small gesture, yet Jungkook watched with silent irritation as the effect was immediate. Jimin stiffened, then exhaled sharply, lowering his hand from his weapon.

Jungkook pushed his tongue into his cheek, fighting the unreasonable annoyance curling in his chest. Why did it take you to calm him? Why did the sight of your hand on someone else—your trust in someone else—bother him? He shoved the thought aside, focusing instead on you.

You turned your gaze to him, your voice steady and sure. "I believe in the wolf standing before me."

The words settled deep inside him, quieting some of the storm in his mind.

"What is your name?" you asked. Voice gentle.

For a moment, Jungkook just looked at you. Then, finally, he answered. "Jungkook."

A small nod. "I am Y/N."

Your guardian pressed his lips together but said nothing more, stepping back begrudgingly. Jungkook ignored the strange sense of satisfaction that settled in his chest at that.

He would rest. And then he would take you with him—away from here, away from the witch who stood too close, and back to his people where he knew, without a doubt, that you were meant to be.

You watched as Jungkook was led to a quiet, secluded resting area, tucked just behind the stone walls of the ancient temple where he could rest and refresh. His figure was striking even in the fading light. His broad shoulders were slightly hunched, a subtle sign of the exhaustion that weighed on him, but there was an undeniable strength to his presence that couldn't be overlooked. Beneath the dark fabric of his tunic, his muscles shifted with each movement—taut, coiled, ready.

When his right arm flexed, the intricate tattoos etched into his skin caught your eye. Black lines, sharp and deliberate, curled around his bicep and stretched down his forearm, their design a seamless blend of power and artistry. They weren’t merely decorations; they were a story—one inked into his very flesh, speaking of battles fought, victories earned, and oaths sworn. There was a rawness to them, a quiet energy humming beneath each mark, as if the wildness within him had been woven into his very skin. You found yourself wondering about their meaning, about the stories they told. About what it might be like to hear him speak of them in that low, gravelly voice.

His steps were steady, though they carried a weariness, as if every movement he made was deliberate, measured. His raven-black hair, damp with the sweat of the day’s battles, fell slightly over his forehead in messy strands, and you couldn’t help but be drawn to the sharpness of his jawline, defined and strong, yet softened by the tension that gripped him. His eyes, dark and intense, seemed to absorb everything around him, calculating each moment, each movement. They flicked over his surroundings with a restless energy that mirrored the storm raging within him. But despite the tension in his posture and the storm brewing in his eyes, there was something almost magnetic about him—something that made your chest tighten with a deep, instinctive need to help.

You couldn’t help but follow his movements with your gaze, a knot in your chest that you couldn’t quite explain.

You forced yourself to turn away, breaking the hold he had on your thoughts. There was no time for hesitation. Swiftly, you gathered what was necessary for the journey—water, herbs, bandages, protective spells small enough to carry. A few potions to ward off fatigue, perhaps, and to keep danger at bay. A change of fresh clothes. Your mind was already calculating what else you might need, but you didn't want to over-pack and burden Jungkook with the extra weight. You needed to travel light, to move swiftly.

As your hands worked with practiced efficiency, your mind wandered back to the way his gaze had lingered on you earlier, to the quiet intensity of it. And to the strange sense of steadiness you found in his presence.

A glance at the hour told you it was nearly time.

You changed into something more suited for travel—comfortable, form-fitting clothing, easily allowing for movement. No time to waste now. You gathered the small satchel and backpack with your essentials and moved toward the door.

When you found Jimin outside, he was pacing, his brows furrowed in agitation. As you approached, he stopped and eyed you critically. His concern for you was as obvious as his mistrust of Jungkook.

“Are you sure about this?” Jimin’s voice was low, his tone edged with uncertainty. “You can’t just trust a wolf pack, no matter what promises they make. They’re dangerous. This—this whole situation—it’s too risky. I don’t like it.”

You met his gaze head-on. “Jimin, I trust Jungkook. I don’t know why but I do. He promised to keep me safe, and I believe him.” You paused, watching the flash of skepticism in his eyes. “I won’t be alone. I’ll have him with me.”

Jimin’s jaw tightened as he shook his head. “How can you? We don’t know him! And I’m still coming with you. No matter what you say, I don’t trust any of this. Not the wolves. Not the way you’ve been acting... I’m not leaving you to deal with that on your own.”

You didn’t argue further. Jimin was stubborn, and you knew he would follow you regardless. But you could see the worry in his eyes—he was protective, and though you appreciated it, you had already made up your mind. With a final glance at him, you turned and strode toward the temple’s back entrance.

“Just tack us,” you said firmly. “We need to move quickly.”

Jungkook was already waiting in the clearing, the silver moonlight carving his silhouette from the shadows. He stood taller now, more at ease, though his eyes still carried the weight of unspoken thoughts.

As you approached, his sharp gaze flicked to you, and for a moment, it was as though time itself slowed.

“You’re ready?” he asked, his voice low, a soft growl underlining the words as he stood tall. His wolf was closer to the surface now, the tension of his form palpable.

“I’m ready,” you answered, nodding. There was no more hesitation, no more doubt. The air between you seemed to hum with an energy you couldn’t name.

You nodded. The space between you seemed to hum with something unspoken.

Jungkook exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "Climb on after I shift. Sit between my shoulders—that will be the most stable. Hold on tight. I won’t drop you."

You nodded, preparing yourself to ride with him, Jimin stepped forward with a sharp glance at Jungkook. “I’m coming with you, too,” Jimin said firmly. “I’ll follow behind you—don’t think I’m just going to let you take her off with you, no matter what promises you’ve made.”

Jungkook’s gaze flicked briefly to Jimin, a flicker of irritation crossing his features. But there was no argument. He simply nodded, understanding the need for caution your people held, though it was clear he wasn’t thrilled about having Jimin follow.

Without saying another word, Jungkook began to shift. His muscles rippled beneath his skin as the transformation started. The air around you grew tense, and a low, resonating growl rumbled deep from his chest, even as his body expanded and contorted in ways that felt unnatural. You stepped back instinctively, your heart pounding in your chest as you watched him.

And then he was there—a massive wolf, his midnight-black coat gleaming under the moonlight. His sheer size stole your breath, a creature built for speed and strength, every movement fluid and deadly. His eyes, glowing with an ethereal green, a piercing intensity that seemed to look straight through you.

Jungkook’s form was stunning. His wolf was a creature of power and grace, exuding an aura of raw, unbridled energy. There was an elegant savagery to him, and yet, in his eyes, there was still something familiar, something that made your heart skip in your chest.

Jungkook’s gaze met yours, steady and unwavering. Slowly, he lowered himself, his body still, waiting. The weight of his presence was overwhelming, and you could feel it in your bones. Jungkook’s eyes softened as he studied you for a moment longer before his body tensed again. He let out a soft huff, almost as if in a silent communication.

You stepped forward, your heart racing as you placed your hand gently on his back. His fur was impossibly soft, but beneath it, you felt the solid strength of muscle. For a brief moment, a thought flitted through your mind—what would it feel like to touch him like this in a moment not marked by war and urgency?

You swallowed, pushing the thought away, and climbed onto his back. With a deep breath, you swung one leg over, your body steadying as you positioned yourself on his back. Jungkook’s massive form shudder and shifted slightly, adjusting for you. The moment you were fully settled, he rose slowly to his feet, making sure not to jostle you. His patience was unexpected, his careful movements at odds with his sheer size and power. His wolf was patient and aware, moving with a grace that belied his size. You could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath you.

Jungkook took a cautious step, testing your comfort level. You relaxed slightly into his back, gripping his fur more securely, and with that, he picked up his pace, moving forward with a slow, powerful jog. You felt his muscles ripple with each stride, his movements precise and fluid, the ground beneath you blurring as he gained speed.

The hours stretched on, the landscape shifting from dense forest to open plains. The journey ahead was marked by quiet but steady progress. As Jungkook's powerful form cut through the forest, the world around you seemed to blur with speed. The trees and the shadows that once felt imposing now seemed like mere silhouettes, passing by in the blink of an eye. His powerful legs pushed him forward with a grace that made the air hum around you. The moonlight filtered through the canopy above, casting pale beams that illuminated the path, guiding him as naturally as if the forest itself had parted to make way.

You settled into the rhythm of the journey, allowing yourself to simply experience the moment. The first part of the trip was uneventful, save for the occasional snap of a twig beneath his paws or the distant hoot of an owl. It was almost peaceful, the kind of serenity that seemed almost too perfect to last.

Jimin had fallen back, fast. As the hours passed and the night wore on, you couldn’t help but notice how steady Jungkook's movements were. Despite the urgency of his mission, there was something almost meditative about his pace. It wasn’t rushed, but rather deliberate, as though every step was carefully planned to ensure both of your safety. His breathing was steady, his heart beating in sync with the rhythm of his movements.

The landscape around you began to change slowly. The dense forest gave way to more open terrain, where the trees were spaced farther apart and the underbrush gave way to dry grass and wildflowers that swayed gently in the wind. The journey had already taken hours, but the night was still young. The stars above sparkled brightly, as if even the heavens had conspired to light the path ahead.

The pace never wavered. Despite the exhaustion weighing on both of you, the steady rhythm of Jungkook’s run, coupled with the cool night air, kept you energized. Occasionally you spoke softly to him, asking if he was alright, but each time, he simply grunted in response. A little later, Jungkook began to slow his pace. You didn’t protest. Your muscles ached, and your eyes were heavy, though your mind remained alert.

His muscles rippled beneath his fur as he lowered himself into a seated position, gently lowering you to the ground. You slid off his back, feeling the familiar earth beneath your feet. The forest around you was peaceful, almost too still, and you felt a brief, unsettling silence settle in.

Jungkook shifted back to his human form almost immediately, his movements smooth and deliberate. He let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping for just a moment before he straightened, his eyes scanning the surroundings.

"We should rest," he said, voice rough. "You’ll fall off if we go any further."

"I can keep going," you protested, but even you weren’t convinced. Your body ached from the unfamiliar ride, your legs screaming in protest.

He gently shook his head." I need a break as well. I’ll take the first watch."

You nodded. You settled down beside him, trying to ignore the gnawing exhaustion creeping into your bones. As Jungkook moved into a watchful stance, his eyes scanning the surroundings, you finally allowed yourself to lean back, staring up at the sky.

In the stillness of the night, with the sound of Jungkook’s steady breathing beside you and the distant rustling of the wind in the trees, you finally allowed yourself to close your eyes.

Jungkook sat against the trunk of a tree, his sharp eyes flicking between the darkness of the forest and your sleeping form. His ears, still heightened even in his human state, picked up the soft rhythm of your breathing, the way it had finally evened out now that exhaustion had won over your wary mind.

You slept, oblivious to the war raging inside him.

A witch. His mate was a damned witch.

The bond was undeniable. The second you’d touched him, he had known. But did you? Or were you oblivious, unaware of the pull tethering you to him?

His fingers twitched, resisting the instinct to reach out. The need to touch you was maddening, but what would it change?

You shifted slightly in your sleep, the soft rise and fall of your chest impossibly steady, as if you weren’t lying beside a wolf who was questioning everything he knew about fate.

Jungkook exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. There was no escaping this, no denying what had been set in motion. His jaw tightened as he tried to reason with it—as if rationalizing it over and over would make it more bearable. It didn’t.

He had heard of mates bonding outside their own kind. Shifters mated to humans, vampires, and even once, an old elder claimed a siren had been bonded to a wolf long ago. But never a witch. Not in any history he knew. And it had to be him.

Not only that, but you weren’t just any witch. You were someone important, someone powerful. You had defied your own coven, risked a lot to help his pack, and now, whether you knew it or not, you were his.

What did that mean? For him? For you?

Would you accept it, or were you like some humans, oblivious to the bond, requiring time—or worse, never recognizing it at all?

His fingers curled into the dirt, suppressing the urge to reach for you, to brush his skin against yours and feel the bond’s pulse again, just to be sure. But what was the point? The fact remained: you were a witch, and he was a wolf. And right now, you were his only hope.

Jungkook sighed, forcing himself to rest, even as his mind refused to quiet. Instead, he listened to you, to the even rhythm of your breathing, to the small, unconscious sighs you made in sleep. He hated how much it soothed him.

His attention flicked to Jimin. He didn’t want to be impressed with Jimin, but he was. The man had trailed you both far longer and closer than Jungkook had expected. His nose and ears should’ve caught Jimin falling behind immediately, struggling to keep up. Instead, Jimin had barely made a sound, his scent present for quite a while but never overstepping for the first two hours. That kind of skill wasn’t common, even among their kind.

Jungkook let the night pass, letting you rest as long as possible before the first streaks of gold kissed the horizon. He turned toward you, placing a careful hand on your shoulder.

You jolted awake, blinking up at him, eyes still hazy with sleep.

“Is’t’time to switch?” you mumbled groggily.

Jungkook shook his head, hiding a small, almost amused smile. “No, we keep moving. By midday, we’ll reach my village.”

You sat up quickly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before nodding. “A’right.”

Without another word, he shifted, his massive wolf form towering over you once again. You climbed onto his back, hands gripping his thick fur.

Jungkook took off, the forest blurring around you as he ran.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The closer they got to the village, the more the air changed. Jungkook smelled it before he saw it—the thick, coppery scent of blood, the acrid sting of burnt wood and fur. Even from a distance, his stomach twisted. The attack had been worse than he thought.

But there was no time to dwell. His pace never slowed, his focus never wavered. He didn’t stop when distant figures noticed him and called out. He didn’t stop when the pack members turned, some running to greet him, others frozen in shock at the sight of the stranger riding on his back. He didn’t even acknowledge the murmurs that rippled through the village as he raced straight to the Pack House.

He only stopped when he nearly slammed into the doors.

You jumped off his back just as he shifted, barely taking a second to regain his human form before grabbing your wrist and pulling you inside. The scent of sickness, of suffering, was even worse in here. Bodies lay in makeshift beds, wolves in both human and shifted form, their wounds bandaged but still raw. A few heads turned, weak eyes barely registering his arrival before exhaustion pulled them back under.

He barely had a moment to breathe before a figure blocked his path.

Jin.

And beside him, Hoseok—whose face was twisted in fury.

“A witch?!” Hoseok snarled, stepping forward, his teeth bared. “You really left us to go get a witch! For all the problems we have, you thought bringing one into the mix would help?”

His glare snapped to you, and before he could move, before he could even think about lunging, Jungkook was there. His body moved on instinct, stepping between you and his furious friend, his own teeth bared in a low, guttural growl.

Hoseok froze. His amber eyes flicked to Jungkook’s face, the realization dawning like a slap across the face.

“No,” he breathed, barely above a whisper. His eyes darted between you and Jungkook, horror creeping into his features. “Tell me you’re joking.”

Jungkook didn’t respond. He just kept his stance firm, his growl deepening as his fingers twitched at his sides, ready to strike if necessary.

A moment of heavy silence passed before Jin sighed, rubbing his temples. “We don’t have time for this,” he muttered. “If she can help, she stays. If she can’t, then this argument is pointless.”

Hoseok didn’t look convinced, but he took a step back, his lips still curled in frustration. He shot you a final glare before turning on his heel. “If this backfires, it’s on you,” he snapped at Jungkook before storming off.

Jin exhaled heavily, looking at you with far less hostility but no less wariness. “You sure you know what you’re doing?”

You didn’t hesitate. Instead of answering Jin’s wary question, you turned to him with crisp authority. “I need a lot of hot water, at least two sets of helping hands—people who will follow my orders without hesitation—and as many of your local healing plants as you can gather.”

Jin blinked, caught off guard by your sudden command. He hesitated for a second, clearly unused to being ordered around, but you didn’t give him the time to argue. “Get to it,” you said sharply, already moving.

You pulled your hair into a quick ponytail as you retrieved a piece of chalk from your satchel. With quick, practiced strokes, you began writing intricate symbols on the door behind you, then moved to the windows, murmuring under your breath as you worked. Protective runes, sealing wards, and cleansing scripts—each one carefully placed to strengthen the space around you, to keep the sickness from spreading and the darkness from lingering. Jungkook watched you with a furrowed brow, confusion flickering across his face, but he didn’t interrupt. There was something about the way you carried yourself—an unshakable presence that made even the strongest warriors in the room hesitate to question you.

Then, the work began.

The next several hours blurred together in a haze of movement and whispered incantations. You barely had time to think as you worked, your hands steady, your magic sharp. Jungkook remained by your side, assisting without hesitation. Whether it was holding down a thrashing patient, keeping pressure on a wound, or simply fetching what you needed before you asked, he was there. Others, however, were less trusting. When one of his pack members hesitated too long, questioning your methods instead of acting, you threw them out without a second thought. There was no room for doubt, no time for superstition. Every move you made was precise, every incantation purposeful, as if everything you did from the moment you entered was one long healing ritual. The tension in the room was thick, but you ignored it.

Hoseok entered once. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, his sharp gaze watching and waiting for you to make a mistake. If you noticed his presence, you didn’t let it show. You had no time for petty pack politics—not when lives were on the line. Eventually, even he had to acknowledge that whatever you were doing, it was working. The air in the Pack House shifted. The stench of death and decay lessened, the oppressive weight of sickness lifting, if only slightly.

Jungkook had seen magic before—had fought against it, had learned to be wary of it. But he had never seen this. You moved through the room like a storm contained in human form, commanding not just the space but the people within it. Never had he seen a witch walk into a den of wolves and take control like the very air bent to their will.

It made his skin crawl.

Not out of fear. No, the unease twisting in his gut was something far more dangerous than fear.

It was recognition.

Because as he watched you move—commanding the space like you had been born to lead, unwavering even under the weight of distrust and still showing compassion—something inside him whispered the truth.

Mine.

It was infuriating.

Because you weren’t just any witch. You were powerful. Respected. Feared. And now, for better or worse, you were his mate.

The idea that fate, that anything, could have decided for him that a witch of all people was meant to be his mate. His future. The thought unsettled him. Witches and shifters did not mix. It was unheard of. And not just any witch, but you. The next in line to lead your coven if he heard right. Someone who, from the moment you had stepped into this house, had taken control with an ease that made his pack uneasy.

It made him uneasy.

By midday the next day, after working non-stop since the moment you stepped into the Pack House, much had changed.

Of the seventeen wounded, seven were finally strong enough to sit and speak—even Namjoon was coming by. Three had insisted on leaving, eager to return to help with the aftermath of the attack. But one life still hung in the balance—a child, their small body ravaged by a cursed weapon. You had done nearly everything you could. Every herb, every spell, every ounce of magic you possessed had been poured into saving them. Now, the rest was up to the child’s spirit.

But not everyone was willing to accept that answer.

“You saved the others. Why not my son?” a voice snapped from the corner of the room. It was a woman, her face drawn with exhaustion and grief. You turned slowly, your own exhaustion heavy in your bones, but your expression remained unreadable. “Magic is not a quick fix, it means sacrifice, it means willpower.” you said, your voice steady. “I have given him every chance, more would be reckless. Now, he must choose to fight.”

The words hung heavy in the air, met with silence and barely concealed tension.

“There has to be something more you can do! ” the woman demanded more from you, her voice sharp with grief and desperation, Jungkook felt the tension in the room spike. The mother’s pain was suffocating, but the Pack’s suspicion was heavier. It was clear what they were thinking. That you had chosen who to save and who to let die.

That you had let the boy suffer.

Jungkook stiffened, ready to step in, to defend you. But before he could, another voice cut through the space like a blade.

Hoseok.

His closest friend. One of Namjoons most trusted like himself. And the one person he knew would not let this go easily.

“Can’t,” Hoseok said, his voice low and sharp. “Or won’t?”

Jungkook stiffened, was about to snap—was about to remind Hoseok that you had spent the last day and night healing their wounded without so much as a break.

This situation was dangerous.

Hoseok wasn’t just questioning you—he was challenging you.

And yet, instead of backing down, instead of shrinking under the weight of an entire pack ready to turn on you, you moved.

Fast.

Around Jungkook. Right in front of Hoseok.

A bold, reckless move.

No one challenged Hoseok like that—not unless they wanted a fight. But you stood before him, meeting his glare without flinching. Your voice, when it came, was cold. Calculated.

For a split second, Jungkook forgot to breathe. For a split second, everything in him went tight—instincts roaring to life at the sight of you placing yourself between two wolves. He almost grabbed you, almost pulled you back, but you weren’t afraid.

Not of Hoseok. Not of anyone.

Instead, you lifted your chin and met his glare with something colder. “What would you willingly give to save the child?”

A beat of silence.

Then, a scoff. “What?”

You turned away from him, eyes locking onto the mother. “His name,” you demanded.

The woman hesitated, confused, but answered in a shaky breath. “S-Sunwoo, a-and I would give anything.”

The shift in the room was immediate. Tension coiled tighter, like a wire pulled to the breaking point.

Jungkook saw it—saw the way something flickered across your face at the name. It was gone in an instant, replaced by something unreadable, but it was there.

Hoseok noticed too, but he didn’t take it seriously.

“What, you think saying his name is gonna fix this?” He let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “You’re not a god, witch.”

The snarl in his voice was met with something colder in yours. “I never claimed to be.”

Then, before anyone could react, you grabbed Hoseok’s wrist.

Jungkook saw it happen in real-time, and yet, he still couldn’t believe it.

Your fingers locked around Hoseok’s wrist.

The entire room reacted.

Wolves tensed. Muscles coiled, teeth bared. A ripple of aggression spread through the Pack like a match to dry grass. Hoseok froze for a split second—shocked, furious—but before he could yank back, you pulled him forward, dragging him to the child’s side with an ease that sent a whisper of something dark through the watching crowd.

Jungkook was stunned.

No one touched Hoseok like that. No one dared.

And yet, here you were.

Gasps echoed around the room. The Pack’s unease morphed into outright hostility. Several wolves growled low in their throats, eyes flashing with warning, but you ignored them all.

You had everyone’s attention now.

“A miracle,” you said, voice laced with something ancient. Something powerful. “Fine! You’ll get a miracle. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You offered a gentle hand to Sunwoo’s mother, inviting her to take a leap of faith.

And she did.

Slowly, carefully, her trembling fingers found yours.

Jungkook felt it before anything else.

As you started to murmur, the air shifted. The words you spoke were unintelligible, a language he had never heard before. Even your breathing sounded melodic, weaving through the tension like a song long forgotten.

The magic curling through the room, thick and cold, the air turning sharp enough to taste. His wolf bristled beneath his skin, instincts screaming danger. Every instinct screamed at him to move, to stop this, to protect.

But he didn’t.

Because he didn’t know how to protect you from something you were obviously the cause of.

He swallowed down the urge to growl, but others weren’t as restrained. A ripple of unease spread through the pack, some baring their teeth, others shifting on their feet like they were fighting the urge to move.

Then the sky outside darkened.

Not like nightfall. No, this was unnatural—shadows stretching long where there should have been light, the temperature in the room plummeting.

Hoseok stiffened. “What the hell—”

He tried to pull away, but you tightened your grip. “If you move, the boy dies.”

The mother trembled. A dead silence.

Then—

A flash of silver.

Jungkook lunged, instincts overriding thought, but it was already too late. Before he could react, you had already moved.

The blade cut clean across Hoseok’s palm.

Not deep. Not fatal. Just enough.

Blood welled up on Hoseok’s skin. Another on the mother’s hand.

Then—

Yours.

The scent of it filled the air, sharper than the rest. Jungkook’s wolf reared in his chest, nearly throwing him forward, but he held himself back.

Your blood hit the boy’s skin, mixing with the others.

The second it did, the world lurched.

A pulse of magic ripped through the room, snapping against his senses like a whip.

Hoseok’s breath hitched, muscles locked like he was fighting something unseen. The mother gasped, eyes going wide as her fingers trembled in yours.

Jungkook fought the overwhelming wrongness of it all, his wolf howling in protest, instincts screaming—

Then you looked at him.

It was brief. A single glance.

But it was enough.

Because in that moment, as the spell took its toll, you knew.

For better or worse, he would be the one to keep you alive.

Then you collapsed.

His body moved before his mind caught up.

One second, you were standing—the next, you were falling.

Jungkook caught you before you hit the ground, his arms locking around you instinctively.

Dead weight.

Limp.

Too pale.

Too still.

For a single, horrifying moment, he thought—

No. No, you were still breathing.

Hoseok snapped out of his daze, golden eyes flashing with fury. “She—”

Jungkook could already hear it coming.

“Jungkook,” Hoseok growled, voice sharp with rage. “She attacked us! She—”

“Enough.” Jungkook’s voice was steel, sharper than fangs.

But the argument never even started.

Because behind them—soft, barely audible at first—a sound shattered the tension.

A sob.

The mother.

And then—

A small, shuddering inhale.

Jungkook turned just in time to see the boy’s eyes flutter open.

The Pack House fell into stunned silence.

Sunwoo was alive.

You had done the impossible.

But as Jungkook looked down at your unconscious form in his arms—too fragile, too vulnerable—he knew one thing for certain.

Whatever you had done…

It had cost you.

And now, unconscious in his arms, you were more vulnerable than ever.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Warmth.

That was the first thing you noticed as you slowly drifted back into consciousness.

Not the suffocating, burning heat of magic consuming you from the inside out, but something gentler. Something that cradled you rather than scorched. A soft, steady warmth, surrounding you like a cocoon.

You shifted, blinking slowly as your vision swam into focus. The ceiling above you was wooden, dark beams stretching across a thatched roof. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine and something clean. Not sterile, but fresh—like newly laundered clothes, like herbs hanging to dry.

You inhaled deeply.

Bad idea.

Pain lanced through your chest, raw and sharp, like your ribs had been scraped raw from the inside. A low groan left your lips as you tried to push yourself up, but the aftermath of the spell was still weighing you down. Blood magic was always nasty. You had known it would take a toll, but even this was worse than you had expected.

The sound of movement snapped you from your haze.

A shadow shifted in the corner of your vision, and before you could react, Jungkook was at your side.

You blinked up at him, startled. He had moved fast, so fast you hadn't even registered it. His dark eyes were locked onto you, sharp and searching, but his touch was careful as he slid an arm behind your back, steadying you as you struggled to sit upright.

“You’re awake,” he murmured, his voice low, unreadable.

You stared at him. Really looked at him.

His face was tense, jaw set tight like he was barely keeping himself from saying something else. His brows were drawn together, but the emotion in his eyes was harder to pin down. Frustration? Relief?

You swallowed, glancing down at yourself. You were covered with a thick, woolen blanket, the rough texture oddly grounding. Beneath it, you could feel the stiffness of dried blood clinging to your skin and gauze placed on the cut you forces on yourself.

“I am not dead?” you finally rasped, voice hoarse.

Jungkook blinked, momentarily thrown. “…Why would you be?”

You exhaled a weak, humorless laugh. “Well, I did cut two of your—what is it called? Mates? Pack friends?”

His lips twitched, but he didn’t let himself smile. “Pack members.”

“Right.” You frowned, trying to make sense of it all. “And they didn’t kill me in my sleep?”

Jungkook’s expression hardened. “No one was going to touch you.”

You searched his face, trying to understand. They had been furious with you earlier—cautious, wary, resentful of what you were – he had been. And yet, here he was. Sitting beside you, supporting your weight, his voice steady and protective.

“…Why?” you finally asked.

Jungkook’s jaw flexed, something flickering behind his eyes. “I swore to protect you, didn’t I? Not that you make it easy for me.”

You studied him for a long moment. He wasn’t lying. But something about the way he said it made you uneasy. Not in a fearful way, but because it felt… too certain.

Your gaze flickered around the room. It was small but cozy. The wooden walls were lined with shelves, neatly stacked with supplies—herbs, dried meat, woven baskets filled with folded blankets. A fire crackled in the corner, its glow casting flickering shadows across the space.

“You are in my home,” Jungkook told you, watching your expression carefully. “You were unconscious for a few hours.”

You exhaled. “Only hours? Lucky. I feared it could take days.”

Jungkook leaned forward slightly, his dark brows furrowing. “What did you do?” unsettled by your remark.

You sighed, shifting against the pillows. “A spell like that—one tied to blood and life—it doesn’t simply heal. It rewrites fate. But magic is never free. Something had to be given in return.”

Jungkook’s expression darkened. “And what did you give?”

You hesitated. That was the question, wasn’t it? You felt the price deep in your bones. You had rewritten the boy’s fate—tied it to his mother’s love, to the wolf’s strength, and to your belief in the old ways. It would keep him alive, for as long as all three remained. But how to explain it that it made sence?

Jungkook seemed to sense your reluctance, but he didn’t push. Instead, he leaned back, rubbing a hand over his face before speaking again.

“The boy woke up minutes after you collapsed,” he finally said. “His mother… she was beside herself. Crying, thanking you, thanking the gods.”

You nodded slowly. “And the rest of the Pack?”

Jungkook’s jaw ticked. “Weren’t as forgiving.”

That didn’t surprise you.

“Hoseok wanted me to kill you,” he admitted bluntly, watching your reaction.

You snorted, shaking your head. “That tracks.”

Jungkook didn’t look amused. “Namjoon woke up before it came to that.”

You straightened slightly. “The Pack leader?”

Jungkook nodded. “The Alpha” helping you jet again with the terminology of his people “He wasn’t happy about the blood magic, but he told me to stay with you until we could all talk. He wants answers.”

You let out a slow breath. That was better than you expected. “Then I suppose I should clean up before I meet him.”

Jungkook hesitated, his wolf bristling. You felt the shift in him, the restless energy rolling off him in waves.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, voice lower now, softer.

You met his eyes, really met them this time. Despite everything, there was something grounding in the way he looked at you—like no matter how much he didn’t understand you, he was still there with you.

“I will be,” you finally said.

It wasn’t a lie.

Jungkook studied you for a long moment, then nodded. Without another word, he stood and helped you up, steadying you when you wavered on your feet.

“This way,” he murmured.

He led you to a small adjoining room, where a simple wooden tub sat against the far wall, filled with water still warm from the fire. The room smelled of clean linen and dried lavender.

Jungkook hesitated in the doorway, his muscles still taut with tension. His wolf wasn’t at ease—not at all.

“I’ll be close,” he said, his voice almost a warning. “Call if you need anything.”

You nodded, and with one last, reluctant glance, he stepped away.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

When you finally emerged, fresh and wrapped in a black dress, Jungkook was waiting. His dark eyes scanned you once, checking for any lingering signs of weakness. But only found you stunning. Then, without a word, he gestured for you to follow.

The walk to Namjoon’s home was not a quiet one.

Some villagers greeted you with cautious nods. Others weren’t as welcoming.

A low growl rumbled in the chest of one passing wolf, his lips curling in an unmistakable snarl.

Jungkook was on him in an instant.

A single warning glare was all it took—the wolf backed down immediately, lowering his gaze. But Jungkook didn’t move until the threat had completely passed, his posture stiff as he resumed walking beside you.

By the time you reached Namjoon’s home, you could feel Jungkook’s closeness, his silent protectiveness pressing against you like a shield.

Inside, Namjoon sat at the head of a long wooden table. Beside him stood two men—Jin, whose gaze was neutral, and Hoseok, whose was not.

You took a breath, then stepped forward, bowing slightly. “Leader of the wolves,” you greeted with as much respect as you could manage.

Namjoon studied you for a moment, then nodded.

“Witch from the valley. Sit,” he said.

Jungkook, still hovering close, pulled out a chair. You sat.

Hoseok exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “So, we’re really trusting her now?”

You didn’t react.

Namjoon silenced Hoseok with a sharp glare before turning to you, his expression unreadable but not unkind. “Regardless of what happened,” he said, voice steady, “you saved lives today. My life included. For that, you have my thanks.”

A small flicker of surprise crossed Jin’s face at Namjoon’s words, but it was gone just as fast. Hoseok, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to argue, but Namjoon’s authority weighed heavier than his temper.

Still, gratitude aside, there was something else Namjoon wanted to know.

“But that still leaves the question—why are you here?” His dark gaze settled on you, unwavering. “What brought you to us?”

Before you could answer, Jungkook shifted beside you. “Hyung, after the attack, after Jin told me that with our healing there wasn’t a chance for you and the others to survive…” He exhaled sharply, hands clenching at his sides. “I went and got help.”

Namjoon’s brows lifted slightly. “Help.”

“Yes,” Jungkook confirmed. His jaw tensed, the weight of something unspoken pressing against his ribs. He had found you. His mate. But he wouldn’t—couldn’t—blurt that out. Not yet.

Namjoon, however, wasn’t interested in hearing the story from Jungkook. His attention remained on you, gaze steady. “And what about you?” he asked. “Why did you come?”

You met his eyes without hesitation. “Because I wasn’t going to sit back and do nothing when I could save a life.” There was no waver in your voice, no doubt. “More than that, our people—your pack and my coven—have an unspoken truce. A natural understanding. You know it as well as I do.”

The reaction to that was immediate. Jin’s lips parted slightly in surprise. Hoseok’s entire posture stiffened, his jaw going tight. Even Namjoon blinked once, as if processing your words.

“Your coven,” Jin repeated, carefully.

You nodded, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, then smoothly changed the subject. “But I didn’t come here to debate history. I came here because you were attacked, and such attacks are never random. We need to talk about it.”

Namjoon leaned forward slightly, but before he could respond, Hoseok’s temper snapped.

“Oh no,” he growled, stepping forward, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “We’re not just moving on like that. You think you can wave your damned magic around, bind me to some spell, and walk away without explaining a damn thing?”

Jungkook’s body tensed beside you, ready to step in if necessary, but you didn’t seem the least bit rattled. Instead, you simply turned to Hoseok with a look that nearly belittled him. His misconceptions about magic, about what you had done—it was almost amusing.

But you didn’t explain. Not really. Not the way you had to Jungkook in his home, when you had taken the time to tell him why blood magic was what it was. Hoseok didn’t deserve that much.

Your silence only seemed to enrage him further. “If you could heal the kid that way,” he snapped, “why didn’t you do it from the start? Why not remove all spells while you’re at it?”

Your lips curved into something that was not quite a smile. “You’re under the impression that magic is a game, wolf.” Your voice was calm, but there was something sharp beneath it. “That I pick and choose on a whim. If I could take away all spells, don’t you think I would have? Or do you think I enjoy exhausting myself to the point of collapse?”

Hoseok opened his mouth to argue, but you didn’t let him.

“I came here to help,” you continued, voice steady. “But if my presence is such a problem, I can leave.”

Jungkook hated that. The very idea of you leaving made something raw claw at his chest. His wolf snarled inside him, restless, angry. But then you added something else.

“My guard has been following me,” you said, ignoring the way Jungkook’s entire body went rigid. “he’ll arrive within the next two days. That will give me a safe way back.”

Jungkook hated that more.

Because your guard meant one person in particular.

Jimin.

A cold possessiveness curled in his gut at the thought of you leaving with him.

But it wasn’t just Jungkook who disliked the idea. Namjoon exhaled slowly, considering you for a long moment before shaking his head.

“You’re already here. You saved too many of my people for me to let you walk out without proper thanks.” Namjoon’s voice was firm, final in a way that left no room for argument. Then, after a brief pause, his eyes flickered to Hoseok with disapproval. “But maybe we should talk without an audience.”

Jungkook tensed beside you, his shoulders coiling tight. He knew what that meant. He was about to be sent away. Away from you.

And he hated it.

His wolf snarled in protest, the very idea of leaving you unprotected—even with Namjoon—feeling like the worst kind of mistake. Rationally, he knew you weren’t defenseless, but rationality had never done much to quiet the instincts ingrained in his very bones.

But before he could argue, you spoke.

“Sure,” you said, tone as even as ever. “But I would like Jungkook to be present.”

Jungkook barely had time to register the words before a rush of satisfaction surged through him. If he were in his wolf form, he was sure his tail would have wagged like an idiot’s.

Namjoon raised an eyebrow. “You want Jungkook here?”

You nodded once. “My… guard entrusted his duties to him while we went ahead. If you trust him with what we will talk about?”

The corner of Namjoon’s lips twitched slightly, amusement barely concealed beneath his otherwise unreadable expression. Jin, who had been silent up until now, let out a quiet hum, something knowing in his gaze as he glanced between the two of you.

Hoseok, on the other hand, looked utterly disgusted.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me—”

“Hoseok.” Namjoon’s voice was sharp. A warning.

Hoseok exhaled harshly through his nose, but this time, he didn’t argue. He just folded his arms across his chest and looked off to the side, jaw tight with barely restrained irritation.

Namjoon turned his attention back to you, giving a single nod. “Alright. Jungkook stays.”

Jungkook swallowed back the irrational relief that flooded through him. He refused to acknowledge why the thought of being away from you had filled him with such tension in the first place.

As Jin and Hoseok moved, Hoseok was outright hostile. But Jin nodded in silent acknowledgment. Recognition.

You had saved many of their own.

And, whether they liked it or not, that meant something.

You weren’t leaving.

And neither was he.

The discussion with Namjoon had been more productive than you’d expected.

The Pack’s leader was measured, sharp, and wary, but he wasn’t unreasonable. By the end of the conversation, you had secured safe passage through the village under his protection. He had also agreed that your arriving guard—Jimin—would be granted the same privileges.

Of course, not all wolves would warm up to you overnight. Trust, especially among werewolves, was a hard-won thing. Some still viewed you with outright hostility, others with silent wariness. But Namjoon had made his stance clear. You were not to be harmed. And as long as Jungkook upheld his promise to keep you safe, you had no doubt that promise would be honored.

Then came the question of where you would stay.

Namjoon, ever the pragmatic leader, had offered you a room in the Pack House. It was logical. The Pack House was the safest place in the village, close to the highest-ranking wolves, the center of their power.

But before you could accept, before Namjoon could even finish explaining the arrangements—

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Jungkook’s voice cut in, firm and decisive.

You blinked at him. Namjoon raised an eyebrow.

And Jungkook—well.

Jungkook realized what he had just said a second too late.

His ears turned red.

“With some wolves still hostile,” he quickly added, looking anywhere but at you, “it would be better if she stayed with me. That way, she wouldn’t have to deal with suspicious packmates glaring at her all night.”

There was a heavy silence.

Then—

Namjoon hummed. Amused. “Oh?”

Jungkook stiffened. “I— I just meant—”

“You meant that her safety is your responsibility,” Namjoon said, voice neutral but his gaze anything but. His eyes held something knowing, something that made Jungkook shift uncomfortably under its weight. “Good.”

Jungkook hated that look.

You, on the other hand, weren’t as flustered as Jungkook clearly was. Instead, you just tilted your head slightly, gaze lingering on him for a moment before nodding. “That’s fine with me.”

Jungkook swallowed hard.

Then came the next topic.

The hunters.

You had no doubt that the last attack had only been the beginning. If they had struck once, they would strike again. And when they did, both your coven and the werewolf village would be in danger.

Namjoon agreed.

Which was why you made your offer.

“I can ward the village,” you said simply. “Every protection spell I know, every barrier I can weave. It won’t stop a full-blown assault, but it will make it harder for them to get close without us knowing.”

Namjoon’s eyes narrowed slightly. “And what would you want in return?”

Your answer was immediate.

“A friendship.”

The room went silent.

You met Namjoon’s gaze without flinching. “Your people and mine don’t need to love each other. But we can help each other. Like now. Like this. When it matters.”

Something shifted in Namjoon’s expression.

After a long moment, he nodded.

“That,” he said, “I can agree to.”

With the terms settled, Namjoon and Jungkook had wanted to take you around the village to begin placing protection spells.

Except—

Your stomach had other ideas.

A quiet, traitorous rumble filled the room.

For a second, no one said anything.

Then—

Jungkook turned to look at you, blinking.

Heat immediately flooded your face.

You pressed a hand against your stomach as if that would somehow take back the sound, but the damage was done. Namjoon’s lips twitched in amusement. And Jungkook—

Jungkook grinned.

His wolf preened at the sight of your flushed face.

You cleared your throat. “Perhaps… a break before we start?”

Jungkook was already pushing up from his chair. “I’ll get food.”

Namjoon nodded. “Eat first. We can go after.”

And just like that, you found yourself following Jungkook to a smaller, more private space—a cozy, open room in the Pack House where food was often shared among the higher-ranking wolves. It wasn’t the main dining hall, where the majority of the pack ate together, but it wasn’t entirely secluded either.

Jungkook grabbed a plate and started piling food onto it—grilled meat, roasted vegetables, thick slices of bread. He moved with ease, almost unconsciously, as if he had done this a hundred times.

Which, you supposed, he had.

“You don’t have to serve me, you know,” you pointed out, watching him.

Jungkook didn’t even look up. “You just fainted a few hours ago. You’re eating.”

You huffed but said nothing as he handed you a full plate.

Then—before you could react—he grabbed a piece of bread and ripped it in half.

You stared.

“…Are you always this aggressive with your food?”

Jungkook paused mid-chew, eyes flicking to you.

Then he grinned, mouth still full. “Hmph.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your lips twitched.

You sat down at one of the wooden tables, and Jungkook took the seat beside you—right beside you, not across, not with space between. His thigh was close enough to brush against yours, his presence a warm, solid weight beside you.

You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until you took the first bite. The food was simple but good. Well-seasoned, filling. It grounded you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed.

Jungkook watched you, a small flicker of satisfaction in his expression.

“You like it?” he asked.

You nodded, swallowing. “It’s good.”

Jungkook watched you eat with a quiet, deep satisfaction.

It wasn’t just relief that you were eating after what you had been through. It was something older, something ingrained into his instincts, something wolfen.

You were eating his food.

Food he had picked for you. Food he had given you.

And you liked it.

A low, pleased hum rumbled in his chest, too deep to be entirely human. His wolf settled, tail-wagging levels of happy, as you took another bite, clearly enjoying the meal.

He knew, logically, that you didn’t understand the significance. That you weren’t one of them.

But in his world, in his nature, providing for a mate was instinctual. Offering food wasn’t just kindness—it was a sign of care, protection. It was a wolf’s responsibility. Making sure you had everything you needed, that you were safe and fed, felt more fulfilling than it should.

Jungkook glanced at your plate—mostly empty now—and felt a surge of satisfaction so strong it almost startled him.

You had eaten everything.

Jin, who had silently slid into the seat across from you at some point, noticed.

Noticed the way Jungkook was sitting a little too close. The way his eyes flickered with something warm and possessive. The way his body was angled protectively toward you, even though there was no immediate threat.

And Jin, being Jin, did what he did best.

He grinned.

Jungkook shot him a glare, but it lacked heat.

Jin just picked up a piece of meat and bit into it lazily. “So,” he mused, glancing between you and Jungkook, “you’re really staying with him, huh?”

You swallowed the last bit of food, nodding. “Apparently.”

Jin’s grin widened. “Interesting.”

Jungkook groaned.

After you finished eating, Jin pushed himself up from his seat, stretching. “Namjoon’s caught up with other things,” he said, “so I’ll be the one following you while you work on the protection spells.”

Jungkook immediately frowned.

You gave Jin a small smile, genuinely pleased to have him accompany you. “You’re welcome to come, but I should warn you—it’s probably going to be boring.”

Jin gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. “Boring? Do you not know who I am? I am the life of every gathering. I bring light to the darkest of days. I—”

“You talk too much,” Jungkook muttered, rolling his eyes.

Jin ignored him, grinning as he leaned slightly closer to you. “Besides, if I wasn’t there, who knows what kind of trouble you and Jungkook would get into all alone?”

Jungkook kicked him under the table.

Jin howled, clutching his shin. “See?! This is the treatment I get for trying to protect your reputation?”

Jungkook scowled, but his ears were turning red.

You just shook your head, standing up chuckling. “Let’s just go.”

Jin, still grinning despite the pain, followed with a smug expression. Then, after one last glance at your empty plate—Jungkook’s wolf practically purring at the sight—you set off to begin your work.

The afternoon passed in a blur of whispered incantations and flickering air.

Some spells were nearly invisible, their effects subtle and woven seamlessly into the land. Others were more obvious—the air shimmered in places where barriers strengthened, the light bending as if the very world was shifting to accommodate your magic.

Jungkook watched you with open awe.

He had never seen magic like this before.

Of course, he had always known witches could do things wolves could not. But witnessing it firsthand—watching you shape the world with your hands, bend energy with nothing but your will—was entirely different.

You were unlike anything he had ever encountered.

And the pack was beginning to see it too.

At first, they had simply observed from a distance, hesitant and wary. But as the day went on, some wolves grew bolder. A few approached, curiosity outweighing suspicion.

Jungkook was tense at first. He didn’t like the way some of the wolves hovered nearby, their eyes locked onto you as you worked. Even if they weren’t outright hostile, they were still watching—still wary, still uncertain.

It made his wolf restless. Protective.

But as the day stretched on, something began to shift.

At first, the wolves had simply observed from a distance, hesitant and cautious. But curiosity was a powerful thing, and eventually, it overpowered their distrust. A few wolves stepped closer, drawn in by the strange yet mesmerizing sight of your work.

Jungkook kept his stance firm, his expression unreadable, but Jin nudged him lightly.

“Relax,” Jin murmured under his breath. “Look at them. They’re not snarling. They’re not snapping their teeth. Give them a chance.”

Jungkook exhaled slowly, glancing at you.

You were so focused, so calm, tracing unseen lines in the air with your fingertips, murmuring soft incantations that made the very atmosphere flicker. Your magic left shimmering traces behind—sometimes invisible, sometimes shifting like heat waves. It was beautiful.

And, surprisingly, some of the wolves thought so too.

One finally stepped forward, hesitant but determined. “What… exactly are you doing?”

Jungkook stiffened slightly, but you only turned to them with quiet patience.

“I’m warding the village,” you explained simply, pausing in your work to meet their gaze. “Strengthening the defenses so if hunters come again, we’ll have early warnings and protections.”

The wolf frowned, shifting on their feet as if processing your words. Jungkook held his breath, waiting for them to sneer, to challenge, to reject.

But instead—

“…That’s good,” they admitted.

Jungkook blinked.

The wolf didn’t say anything else, but they stepped back, watching you work with less wariness than before.

Jin shot Jungkook a knowing look. See?

And as much as Jungkook hated to admit it, Jin was right.

For the first time since you had arrived, it felt like a small part of the Pack was beginning to accept you. And though Jungkook wouldn’t let his guard down completely—though he still watched every wolf that got too close—he allowed himself to breathe.

It wasn’t acceptance. Not yet.

But it was a start.

Jungkook felt something warm settle in his chest as he observed the shift.

You were changing things here.

For the first time, his pack was beginning to see you not as an outsider, not as a witch—but as someone helping them.

And then—

“You should stop.”

Your hands stilled mid-gesture as Jungkook’s voice cut through the evening air.

You turned to look at him, confused. “What?”

The sun was dipping lower now, staining the sky in deep oranges and purples. The air was cooling.

Jungkook’s jaw was tight.

“You should stop for today.”

You frowned. “I can keep going.”

“No.”

The word was firm.

Your frown deepened. “Jungkook, I’m fine—”

“You fainted earlier.”

The reminder sent a ripple of stubbornness through you. “That was from a blood spell, not this.”

“I don’t care.”

His voice was steady, but his eyes—

His eyes were intense.

Frustrated. Worried.

His wolf was pacing beneath his skin, restless. The memory of you collapsing, unconscious and pale, was still too fresh.

You hesitated.

He took a step closer, his expression dark and serious. “You’re not pushing yourself past your limit again.”

The protective edge in his tone caught you off guard.

Jin, standing a few feet away, watched with open amusement but said nothing.

You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. “Jungkook—”

“No.”

You huffed under your breath, muttering, “You’re worse than Jimin.”

It wasn’t meant to be a big deal, just an exasperated complaint, but the second the words left your mouth, Jungkook’s expression darkened.

Worse than Jimin?

Jungkook, was not amused.

“Worse than Jimin?” he repeated, voice flat.

You blinked at him, only now realizing what you had done.

Jungkook didn’t like being compared to Jimin. But even more than that, he didn’t like the implication behind your words—the one that suggested you needed someone to stop you, that you wouldn’t stop on your own. That you had the same reckless streak that Jimin always scolded you for.

His jaw clenched. “That supposed to mean something?”

You hesitated. “It means you’re being dramatic.”

“Dramatic?”

Jin snorted. “You are being a little dramatic, Jungkook.”

Jungkook shot him a glare, but it lacked real heat. Then he turned back to you, his sharp eyes searching your face.

“Stop pushing yourself,” he said firmly.

You exhaled, dragging a hand through your hair. You hadn’t even done that much. But something about the way he was watching you—like you were one wrong move away from collapsing again—made it impossible to argue.

You exhaled slowly. Then, finally, you gave in. “…Fine.”

Jungkook’s shoulders relaxed just slightly.

You hadn’t noticed how tense he had been.

Jin snickered. “Didn’t know you were this bossy, Jungkook.”

Jungkook ignored him.

Instead, his gaze softened as he looked at you. “Come on. You’ve done enough for today.”

And just like that—before you could argue further—he reached out, wrapping his fingers around your wrist, tugging you gently in the direction of his home.

You let him lead you.

And behind you, Jin’s grin only widened.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Jungkook didn’t let go of your wrist the entire walk back.

It wasn’t until you stepped inside his home—until the door shut behind you, sealing you both in the quiet warmth of his space—that he realized it.

His body tensed. His grip slackened.

And then, as if burned, he let go.

Too fast. Too abrupt. He had been so preoccupied with keeping you close, with making sure you didn’t push yourself too hard, that he hadn’t thought about what he was doing. About what it meant.

His whole body tensed as he stepped away, putting deliberate distance between you. His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking near his temple, and you could practically see the war waging inside him. Something unsettled flickered in his eyes, like a question he wasn’t willing to ask.

His heart pounded in his chest, restless and uneasy, his wolf scratching just beneath the surface, urging him to pull you close again. To feel that warmth, that connection.

But he didn’t.

Because that would be reckless. And selfish.

You hadn’t chosen him. Hell, you might not even know.

Jungkook swallowed, his throat bobbing, before his gaze snapped away. "You should take the bed."

You turned to him, one brow arching. "What?"

"You heard me." He gestured toward the small but comfortable-looking bed in the adjacent room. "You're still recovering. Take the bed."

You blinked at him, then let out a sharp laugh. "Oh, absolutely not. You should take the bed. This is your home."

"It's my home, which is why I'm saying you should take it."

You crossed your arms, leveling him with an unimpressed look. "I'm a guest. Guests take the couch. That’s just common courtesy."

"And hosts take care of their guests," he shot back, expression firm. "That’s just common sense."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "You’ve already taken care of me enough."

"You passed out from that spell earlier," he reminded you. " And then spent the entire day working." He took a slow step closer, voice dipping into something softer. "You need proper rest."

"So do you."

Jungkook exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair.

You raised an eyebrow, feeling smug for a moment—until you saw the way his ears had turned pink.

Jungkook didn’t care about himself. He cared about you.

And that realization made something unfamiliar twist low in your stomach.

Still, you weren’t about to let him win so easily.

"You’re taking the bed," he insisted.

"I’m taking the couch."

"You’re so damn stubborn."

You smirked. "Thank you."

"It wasn’t a compliment."

"Sure sounded like one."

Jungkook let out a low, frustrated groan, rolling his eyes skyward like he was asking the moon for patience.

This shouldn’t be such a big deal. It was just a bed. But the thought of you sleeping out here on the couch while his bed sat empty didn’t sit right with him. Not at all. You deserved comfort. Safety. The best he could offer you.

And…

And if he was being completely honest, part of him liked the idea of you sleeping in his bed.

Because then, when he went to sleep later—when he laid his head on the pillows and inhaled deeply—your scent would still be there, woven into the fabric, lingering in the space around him.

His wolf purred at the thought, tail practically wagging.

He swallowed thickly, pushing down the surge of want that threatened to rise to the surface.

"You’re taking the bed," he said, tone final.

You huffed. "No, I'm—"

Jungkook growled.

It wasn’t loud, wasn’t threatening—but it was warning.

You froze for half a second, eyes narrowing at him, then sighed. He was serious about this. And honestly… you were exhausted. The last two days had taken more out of you than you wanted to admit. The thought of sinking into a real bed instead of stiff cushions… well. That was tempting. And if Jungkook was going to be this insistent, you might as well accept the offer.

"Fine," you muttered.

Jungkook barely contained his victorious smirk.

Then, before you could change your mind, he turned toward the small storage space in the corner, pulling out a spare blanket for himself. "Good. Now go to sleep."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, you turned and headed toward the bedroom, the scent of pinewood and something distinctly him wrapping around you as you stepped inside. It was simple but comfortable—neat blankets, a small table near the window, and pillows stacked against the headboard.

It was undeniably his space.

And you were about to sleep in it. You already had, but now you would do so on your own.

And as you walked past him, heading toward his bedroom, Jungkook couldn’t help but glance at you—at the way your presence fit so easily into his home, like you belonged here.

Like you belonged with him.

His chest ached.

He turned away before he could think about it too much.

Tomorrow. He’d think about it tomorrow.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Jungkook woke up to the soft sounds of clinking utensils and a faint hum of a melody he couldn't quite place. The smell of something warm and comforting filled the air, making his stomach grumble, even though he wasn't quite awake yet.

He blinked slowly, his eyes adjusting to the light streaming through the small window. For a moment, he was disoriented, not fully sure where he was. But then the memory of the night before came rushing back—everything from the blood spell to your stubborn insistence on taking the couch. And now, here you were, in his kitchen, cooking.

He rubbed his face and pushed himself up, wincing slightly at the soreness in his muscles from the events of the last few days. His eyes fell on you, bent over a skillet, the faint sound of sizzling filling the silence between the two of you. You were humming lightly, focused on your task, completely at ease in his space.

The sight of you so comfortable, so... at home, made something warm stir inside him. He couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. This—this felt like peace. Like everything had settled into place. His mate, in his kitchen, cooking breakfast.

A low chuckle escaped him, and you turned slightly, catching the sound as you noticed him. His gaze met yours, a mix of amusement and something softer, unspoken, in his eyes.

"Good morning," you said, your voice calm and steady, though there was a hint of playfulness in your tone.

Jungkook stretched, his muscles protesting, but he ignored it. "I didn’t realize I was the guest here," he teased softly, trying to keep the mood light. "Shouldn't I be the one making breakfast for you?"

You didn't look up from the stove as you replied, your voice warm but firm, "I'm fine. The breakfast will be ready soon."

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, watching you with a mix of amusement and admiration. There was no winning with you. "What kind of tea are you drinking?" he asked, a change of subject to keep the conversation going.

You paused for just a beat, considering whether you should tease him or not. Your eyes flickered over to him, and with a knowing smile, you said, "Lavender. I hope it’s okay I used yours. And something from the herbs I brought along. It’s meant to help with fatigue."

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed for a moment, but the soft laugh that followed was immediate. "Of course it’s okay. You don’t have to ask, you know." He stretched, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and a smile tugged at his lips.

You gave a small, appreciative smile, then turned your attention back to the tea. As you listed the herbs you had brought, Jungkook raised an eyebrow, looking at you with a mix of curiosity and something like suspicion.

"What exactly did you bring?" he asked, his voice teasing. "Are you making potions instead of tea?"

You met his gaze and couldn’t help but laugh lightly. "Nothing that extreme," you teased back, though there was a glint of something serious in your eyes. "Just a blend to help with your energy levels. It’ll give you a little more balance."

"You should try it," you said, your voice gentle as you poured him a cup of tea and passed it to him.

As his fingers brushed yours, a strange, electric feeling ran through him. It was subtle at first—just the briefest of touches—but it sent a jolt of warmth straight to his chest. His heartbeat quickened, his breath catching as the sensation seemed to settle deep inside him. It felt like home, like peace had washed over him.

You froze for a fraction of a second, the weight of the moment hanging between you, but neither of you spoke. Neither of you moved.

Jungkook’s breath faltered as he glanced down at your fingers, now both holding the cup in your hand, feeling the lingering warmth of your touch still dancing along his skin. His wolf stirred restlessly, but Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to break the silence.

He wanted to. He wanted to ask you if you felt it too. But he couldn’t.

You finally broke the moment with a soft, steady exhale, your fingers retreating slowly as you handed him the cup. The air around you felt heavier, charged, but neither of you acknowledged it.

"Do you like it?" you asked, your voice quieter now, almost uncertain.

Jungkook chuckled, though a small part of him still wondered what other strange remedies you had hidden among those herbs. He took a sip of the tea, letting the warm liquid settle over him. He couldn’t deny it was soothing.

"It’s good," he murmured, looking at you with a playful glint. "Maybe you should just make all my tea from now on."

For a moment, you both stood there, silently sharing the quiet of the morning, the tension between you simmering just beneath the surface. Jungkook glanced at you again, wondering if you knew what had just passed between you. Wondering if you could feel it too.

But he didn’t ask. And you didn’t say anything more.

The air hummed with unsaid words. With possibilities neither of you was ready to confront.

Yet.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Jungkook was still watching you when the sharp knock at the door made you both jump slightly, shattering the fragile moment between you.

Jin’s voice carried through the wood. “Jungkook, open up! You too, witch, I know you’re in there.”

Jungkook groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Hyung, it’s too damn early for your nonsense.”

“Too early?” Jin scoffed. “Half the pack has been awake since dawn. Now open the door before I break it down.”

You exchanged a glance with Jungkook, who rolled his eyes before getting up and swinging the door open.

Jin stood there, arms crossed, looking entirely unimpressed. His sharp gaze flickered over you before settling back on Jungkook. “The pack house needs you both. Some of the wounded need another check, and others specifically asked to thank the witch who healed them.” He gave you a pointed look. “Try not to look so surprised. You did save their lives.”

You shifted, pushing your tea cup aside. “I don’t mind helping,” you said after a pause.

Jin nodded. “Good. Let’s go.”

The walk to the pack house was quiet, though Jungkook stuck close to you, his presence steady beside you. The moment had been disrupted, but you were almost grateful for it—because the longer you spent with him, the harder it was to ignore the lingering dread creeping in. The moment you finished here, you’d have to leave. Jimin was expecting you back home. And the thought of walking away from this place, from Jungkook, left a weight in your chest that you weren’t ready to unpack.

At the pack house, things quickly became busy. You checked over wounds, reinforced healing spells, and even brewed a potion for revitalization—something to help the injured regain their strength faster. Some of the wolves you’d treated were hesitant at first, still wary of a witch in their midst, but others, grateful for your help, actually sought you out to thank you.

Jungkook remained by your side the entire time. Whether it was intentional or not, you weren’t sure, but you could feel him—his presence, his gaze, his silent reassurance. It made it easier to breathe, even as your mind churned with thoughts you didn’t want to face.

Jin stayed behind at the pack house as you and Jungkook left to continue warding the village. You had just reached the edge of the territory when another familiar voice cut through the air.

“You really have no shame, do you?”

Hoseok.

You turned just in time to see him approaching, his expression unreadable but his tone laced with irritation.

Jungkook immediately tensed beside you.

“I’m busy, Hoseok,” you said evenly, refusing to let him get under your skin.

“Oh, I can see that,” he said, eyeing the way Jungkook stood close to you. “Busy playing house with our second-in-command?”

Your jaw clenched, but before you could say anything, Jungkook moved.

He stepped between you and Hoseok, his posture rigid, shoulders squared. “Watch it,” Jungkook warned, voice low and dangerous.

Hoseok raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “What? I’m just wondering when exactly we started trusting witches so easily. Or is she just an exception?”

Jungkook’s muscles coiled, his hands clenching into fists. “I don’t need to explain anything to you.”

Hoseok scoffed, crossing his arms. “Right. Of course not. Just like you don’t need to explain why you’re acting like she’s more important than the pack.”

The accusation sent a sharp wave of tension through the air. You could feel the way Jungkook’s anger crackled beneath the surface, restrained only by a thin thread of control.

“I swore to protect her,” Jungkook said, his voice quiet but firm.

Hoseok’s expression darkened. “Why?”

Jungkook’s grip tightened at his sides. “Because she could saved us.”

Hoseok took a slow step forward, looking past Jungkook to meet your gaze. “Did she? Or did she just do what was convenient for her?”

That was the final straw.

Jungkook lunged first.

The impact was sudden, raw. The two of them crashed to the ground, rolling through the dirt as fists flew. Hoseok wasn’t weak, but neither was Jungkook—especially not when he was this furious.

You barely had time to react before they were locked in a vicious struggle, growls ripping through the air. Jungkook fought like he had something to prove, like he was defending something that went far beyond just you being a witch in their territory.

Because this wasn’t just about the pack anymore.

It was about you.

And though Jungkook wasn’t ready to admit it—to himself or to anyone else—he wouldn’t let anyone talk to his mate like that.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Jungkook barely had time to process his own fury before he was moving. His body acted before his mind could catch up, instincts taking over in a single, explosive movement.

One second, he was standing between you and Hoseok, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles ached. The next, he lunged.

The impact was immediate—bone and muscle colliding with raw force. They hit the ground hard, rolling through the dirt as the force of Jungkook’s tackle sent them skidding across the clearing. A snarl tore from Jungkook’s throat, his wolf dangerously close to the surface.

Hoseok wasn’t weak. He recovered quickly, twisting his body mid-roll to break free from Jungkook’s grip, and in the next heartbeat, he retaliated.

A fist shot out, catching Jungkook just under the ribs, but it wasn’t enough to make him back down. If anything, it only made him more determined.

Jungkook shoved back, hard, knocking Hoseok onto his back before pinning him down with a knee to his chest. His breath came heavy, his heart pounding in his ears, but he barely noticed.

"You don’t get to talk about her like that," he growled, voice rough with warning.

Hoseok scoffed beneath him, gritting his teeth as he struggled against Jungkook’s hold. "So that’s what this is about?" he spat. "Not the pack, not the safety of our people—just her?"

Jungkook’s grip tightened, fingers curling into the fabric of Hoseok’s shirt. "She saved us," he bit out, his tone lethal. "She saved Namjoon. She saved me. And you still act like she’s the enemy."

Hoseok’s eyes flashed, his own anger simmering beneath the surface. "She’s a witch," he snapped. "You don’t just forget centuries of bloodshed because of one act of kindness."

Jungkook’s jaw clenched so tightly it ached. "And you don’t blame someone for things they didn’t do."

A tense silence stretched between them, their harsh breaths the only sound in the air. The pack house wasn’t far—others would have heard the commotion by now. But neither of them moved, neither willing to be the first to back down.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, Jungkook saw you take a small step forward. You weren’t afraid, not of him, not of Hoseok. But there was something in your expression—something wary, something uncertain.

And it made Jungkook’s fury deepen.

Because you shouldn’t have to look at his pack like that. You shouldn’t have to defend yourself every time you turned around.

His fingers twitched against Hoseok’s collar, but he forced himself to release his grip, shoving himself back just enough to let the other man breathe. Hoseok coughed, rubbing his chest as he sat up, but his glare didn’t waver.

"She doesn’t belong here," he said, his voice lower now, but just as sharp.

Jungkook’s hands curled into fists at his sides. "She belongs wherever she wants to be," he said firmly. "And if she chooses to be here, then that’s her choice. Not yours."

For a long moment, Hoseok didn’t reply. He only stared at Jungkook, then at you, as if weighing something unspoken. Then, with a heavy exhale, he pushed himself to his feet.

"This isn’t over," he muttered, brushing dirt from his clothes.

Jungkook didn’t look away. "It is for now," he said, voice cold.

Hoseok cast one last glance between the two of you before turning on his heel and walking off, his posture stiff with lingering tension.

The second he was gone, the air between you and Jungkook shifted.

His shoulders were still taut, his body wound too tight, but when he turned to look at you, something softened in his expression.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice quieter now, rough around the edges.

You blinked, caught off guard. "I—yes," you said slowly. "You didn’t have to do that, you know."

Jungkook exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Yes, I did."

You studied him for a long moment, something unreadable passing through your eyes. He was still tense, shoulders squared, fists flexing at his sides like he wasn’t quite ready to let go of the fight.

Your gaze flickered down to where Hoseok had landed a solid punch just under his ribs. A faint shadow of pain crossed his face before he schooled his features again.

"Are you alright?" you asked, tilting your head slightly. "That hit looked like it hurt."

Jungkook scoffed, shifting his weight. "It’s nothing."

You frowned. "That’s not an answer."

His lips twitched, but when you stepped forward, reaching a careful hand toward his side, he stiffened. Not because he didn’t want you close—but because the moment your fingers brushed his shirt, something in him nearly unraveled.

"Should I take a look at it?" you asked, voice softer now. "Just to make sure it won’t bruise too badly?"

Jungkook swallowed, throat bobbing. He should say no. He knew he should. But you were standing so close, the scent of lavender and something warm filling the space between you, and for some reason, he didn’t want to move away.

He wanted to say yes.

And that terrified him.

But before he could answer, the sound of footsteps broke the moment, distant but approaching. His jaw clenched as he turned his head, knowing it was probably another member of the pack coming to check on the fight.

You took a small step back, hands dropping to your sides.

"Later, then," you murmured.

Jungkook wasn’t sure if you meant the check-up or something else entirely.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Jungkook barely had a moment to catch his breath before another set of hurried footsteps approached. A younger wolf, barely past his first shift, skidded to a stop in front of them, panting.

"Jungkook," the boy gasped, eyes darting between you and the beta. "Alpha Namjoon needs you. Now."

Jungkook’s entire body tensed. "What happened?"

The boy hesitated, glancing at you, before lowering his voice. "There’s been movement near the eastern border. Strangers. We don’t know if they’re hunters or rogues, but Namjoon wants you there."

A growl rumbled deep in Jungkook’s chest. His instincts screamed at him to stay—to keep you within reach, where he knew you were safe—but the pack came first. And if there was a threat near their borders, he couldn’t ignore it.

His gaze snapped to you, his brow furrowed in hesitation. "You go stay with Jin," he ordered, voice rough. "Don’t go anywhere until I get back."

You sighed, offering a small, reassuring smile. "I’ll be fine, Jungkook. It’s just for a moment."

He didn’t look convinced.

You stepped closer to Jungkook, voice lowering. "Really, go. Your pack needs you. I’ll be right here with Jin when you get back."

Jungkook’s jaw clenched. His wolf didn’t like this—not one bit. But he forced himself to nod, eyes lingering on you for a second longer before turning away.

The moment he disappeared into the trees, you went to find Jin. It didn’t take long for you to find him and tell him why you were without Jungkook.

"You know," Jin mused, leaning lazily against a tree. "I think that might be the first time for Jungkook to hesitate to follow an order."

You crossed your arms, rolling your eyes. "He’s just protective."

Jin hummed, looking at you with a knowing glint in his eyes. "Oh, sweetheart. That’s not just protection. That’s something else entirely."

You opened your mouth to argue—but then closed it again. Because deep down, you knew Jin wasn’t wrong.

And that realization was almost as terrifying as the thought of Jungkook being forced away from you.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The minutes stretched longer than you expected. Jungkook still wasn’t back, and though you weren’t worried for your safety, you couldn’t shake the unease creeping in. Jin, ever the social one, kept you occupied with stories about the pack and his long-standing friendship with both Jungkook and Namjoon.

“You know, Jungkook wasn’t always the brooding, silent type,” Jin mused, leaning against a tree. “When we were younger, he was the first to pick fights, but not out of aggression. It was just his way of proving himself. Namjoon always had to drag him out of trouble.”

You smiled faintly, picturing a younger Jungkook, all wild energy and untamed defiance. “And you? Were you the responsible one?”

Jin scoffed. “Me? Absolutely not. I just had the best excuses to get us out of trouble.” He smirked, then his expression softened. “Jungkook’s loyalty is fierce, though. If you have him on your side, he’ll never let anything happen to you.”

You hesitated. “I know.”

Jin watched you for a moment before changing the subject. “Hoseok, by the way? I have a theory about why he’s been so difficult with you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Enlighten me.”

Jin chuckled. “He doesn’t trust outsiders, sure. But it’s more than that. He thinks you’re going to take Jungkook from the pack.”

You blinked. “What?”

“He sees how Jungkook looks at you,” Jin continued, voice casual but sharp with meaning. “Even if Jungkook doesn’t realize it yet, Hoseok does. And he’s scared of what that means.”

Your lips parted, a denial forming, but before you could say anything—

A sharp whistle tore through the air.

Then, chaos erupted.

Shouts and growls filled the village as figures clad in dark clothing emerged from the tree line. Hunters. Again.

Your stomach lurched. Jin’s posture changed instantly, his easygoing demeanor vanishing as he grabbed your wrist. “Stay close.”

Chaos erupted almost instantly. The pack members still recovering from the last attack scrambled to evacuate the children and elderly while others shifted mid-run, lunging toward their attackers.

You nodded, but already, your thoughts raced. Not because you feared for yourself—you could handle this. But because Jungkook wasn’t here. If he were, you’d at least know he was safe.

The battle broke out in full force. Wolves, still recovering from the last attack, fought through their injuries to defend their home. Children were ushered away, their cries blending with the clashing of steel and snarls of wolves mid-shift.

You moved quickly, helping where you could. Spells left your lips, defensive barriers flashing to life, potions thrown to heal the wounded. Jin fought beside you, sharp and ruthless.

Then, in the chaos, you lost him.

You turned sharply, searching, but before you could find him, movement caught your eye. A hunter—a man clad in dark leathers, blade gleaming—rushed toward a small girl with pigtails, frozen in fear.

You didn’t think. You moved.

One hand grabbed the child, the other reaching into your pouch. As the hunter’s blade swung down, you twisted, pulling the girl with you, and hurled a vial of shimmering powder at the attacker’s face.

He screamed, clawing at his eyes, stumbling back in agony barely missing you.

But before you could react further, the unmistakable sound of crystals shattering on stone sent a cold dread through you.

Two glimmering stones landed behind you, their shards glowing faintly.

Binding Crystals.

A barrier flared to life, sealing you inside a confined space—cut off from the rest of the pack.

Two hunters were with you.

"Looks like we caught ourselves a little witch," one sneered.

You exhaled slowly, grounding yourself. "Stay exactly where you are," you murmured to the girl. "And close your eyes."

The hunters chuckled. "You don’t seem to understand your situation."

A small smile curved your lips as you reached into your pouch once more. "No," you said calmly, pulling out another vial, this one filled with a thick, black inky liquid.

"You don’t understand yours."

With a flick of your wrist, you uncorked the vial.

Black smoke poured out instantly, thick and unnatural, swallowing the space whole. The hunters cursed, stumbling back as the darkness consumed everything in its path.

And then—

Jungkook arrived.

He and his patrol burst onto the scene just in time to see the last of you disappear into the smoke.

Not one, but two hunters with you.

Rage, cold and absolute, filled him.

"No."

Without thinking, he lunged toward the barrier—only to be thrown back violently, skidding across the ground as the magic repelled him.

"No!" His roar shook the trees, his wolf raging against his skin, furious and desperate.

You were gone.

And he couldn’t reach you.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦ Part 2

@somehowukook

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Throwback

Male Triceratops Hybrid Alpha Yandere x Gender Neutral Capybara Hybrid Omega Reader

CW: Noncon, painful to pleasureable sex, mild violence (not towards reader), time travel, sexism, breeding, impregnation, pheromones, a/b/o, musk, scent marking, scent kink, sucking on dem big man titters, biting, bite marking, claiming, exceptionally huge dick, reader inflated with copious cum, knotting

Word Count: 1.9k

(Sometimes I get stuck on WIPs and have to do something new to write again. I wrote this in two days. Hope y'all like it! Please feed me with comments ❤️)

You were an omega demi-human. Part capybara, though the only evidence of this was your soft ears. More importantly, you were a quantum physicist. Currently, you were studying and recreating what you thought to be a time travel device. Your thoughts and theories had been dismissed entirely by your peers. It didn't help at all that you were an omega. Omegas working in academia were almost universally harassed, derided, and treated with condescension. As if their omega brains couldn't work at the same level as betas and alphas.

But even if it wasn't some type of device for traveling through time it was certainly alien to the time period from which it originated. It was made of advanced alloys and components that had been flattened, buried, and heavily corroded over time. The rock in which it was embedded in was older than any ancient society.

You had been working on manufacturing a functional copy of the artifact for years. Shmoozing up eccentric rich fucks, getting help from the exceedingly few colleagues who would help you in any way, slowly analyzing every detail and carefully bringing it all together. And at long last it was complete. The zenith of your career was at hand. And after some cautious testing that you conducted privately, it was ready to show to others.

You managed to get a spot at a small conference, though you had lied about the subject on which you would be speaking, and by the time it was your turn most of the audience had left. Not many academics cared what an omega had to say. Let alone one with a reputation for being a crackpot. But there were still enough of your fellow scientists and this would all be on video.

Instead of introducing the topic of your presentation, which would be a surefire way to lose what people were still watching, you opted for wheeling out your machine onto the stage and stepping in. With a deep breath, you booted it up and the entire contraption disappeared with a flash.

When you exited the machine there was an immediate problem. You stepped out of the machine into a forest with giant trees and flowers. You had only intended to go back a minute to when your presentation started but had made an error. You turned around to step back in but something pulled you backwards by your rear. You fell back and saw before you a humongous man charging at your time machine. He wore only a ragged fur loincloth and swung a massive club. He looked human except for his size, thick tail, scaled arms, and three horns on his head. One large horn from each temple and a small one extending from my nose.

You looked on in horror as he swung a mighty club down upon your only way back to your own time, repeatedly smashing it down until it resembled the exact shape of the artifact that had been excavated in your time. The relic that you had fashioned your own machine after. That wasn't what your attention was on, however. You were much more focused on getting away from the raging beast of a man who could flatten metal so easily.

Though with his task of destroying the frightening affront to nature that had appeared from nowhere now complete, he turned his attention to you. He shouted at you in a language you didn't understand, though his intent was clear. He had a massive erection sticking out from his loincloth and aggressively sniffing at your neck after picking you up with unexpected care.

With exertion of great willpower, the trike-man managed to not breed you silly right there in the forest. Your pheromones were driving him nearly feral. Modern-day omega pheromones were many times more potent than any prehistoric omega. They had evolved through millennia to pique the interest of choosy alphas despite the steep competition, an evolutionary arms race to try to snag an alpha.

That wasn't the only appealing trait. You were exotic, had cute little furry ears on your head, and you were so small, couldn't fight back and act all defiant like the omegas from his time.

You did struggle though. You had seen his arousal and could still smell it. Almost anything would be better than being violated in such a manner by such a hulking brute. He chuckled at your struggles, they were successful only in tiring you out. On the long way to his lair, between your squirming, kicking, and punching, you had gathered that his name was Orryg. At least you thought it was. He did not speak English, but he gestured at himself and seemed to be trying to give you his name.

He found your struggles kinda cute, mistaking them for an eagerness to escape his grasp and get on with taking his cock already. Omegas were so silly.

"Don't worry. Going to breed you plenty. Better in a secluded place."

You had no idea what he said, but his voice was deep and sounded angry so you could only assume it was something in annoyance at your struggles so you went limp. The giant man could snap you like a twig if he wanted to, best not to make him too upset. And honestly, even if you did escape, where the fuck would you go? What if Orryg wasn't the worst thing prowling about in the time period?

The walk went on for a while, with Orryg giving you an occasional lick or mumbling out some words you didn't have any hope of understanding. After a fair amount of time, Orryg stopped to sniff the air. Suddenly there was a roar from behind.

Orryg turned the two of you around just in time for him to take his club and smack it into a man who was every bit as huge as he was. Swatting him away easily despite being similar in size and build.

This one had sharp teeth and clawed fingers. He spat blood and growled. Orryg regarded him with a scowl.

"Udvik! You know this is trike territory!!"

"Omega smells good, not claimed yet. Thought I'd try..."

"Go before I smash you! This is MINE!"

Udvik spat again and hobbled off. But your suspicions had been confirmed, there were definitely things other than Orryg to be worried about in this time period. You were pretty shaken up seeing a half-dino man jumping at you and watching your captor fight him off. With those teeth it had clearly been no herbivore, it probably would have slaughtered you. Your fear must have been evident in your scent because Orryg held you tighter and nuzzled you.

"That battle got my blood flowing, really need to fuck you. Sorry if it scared you, I'll breed you all better. Almost home."

You continued to have zero idea what the hell he was saying. But you figured with the nuzzling it was something comforting. Though your ability to figure anything out was pretty absent by this point. Your brain was soup. All the anxiety and adrenaline and alpha pheromones had finally gotten to you. You looked at the ground in a stupor as he continued to carry you over his shoulder.

The next thing you were consciously aware of was him entering the cave with you and placing his club at the entrance. He laid down on a slab of stone covered in thick layers of soft furs and placed you on top of his muscled body. Before you had any chance to react he began administering attention to your sensitive neck. You squirmed involuntarily, writhing in pleasure on top of him from the neck stimulation alone.

If that wasn't enough, you were practically drowning in his musk. You had been since you entered his dwelling, the cave was saturated in it, but now he was forcing your head under his arm and making you drink it all in. Smearing your face with it and marking you with his smell. Slick was leaking out of your needy hole and pooling on his abs.

"I knew this would make you feel better."

The trance you were in was only partially broken once you felt the blunt head of his much too-large member press against your hole.

"W-wait! I don-"

But he had no idea what you were saying, and even if he did he knew you'd love his dick so much that you wouldn't protest for long. At this point, you were going to be his... no matter what.

You yelped in pain as he pressed into you, spreading you like none of your toys ever had. He swallowed your shout by pressing his mouth into yours, trying to distract you from the pain with a sloppy kiss before attending to your neck again. Despite every instinct telling him to just ram in and ravage you he restrained himself knowing that doing otherwise could seriously injure you.

"Ah!"

Even with his care it still hurt as he slowly eased his prick all the way into you, he rubbed the outline of his cock through your tummy. Lucky for you omegas were extremely stretchy and pliant.

Orryg slowly thrust back and forth inside you as he hungrily took in your scent. As more precum dribbled into you and mixed with your slick you took him easier and the pain slowly began to ebb away and was eventually replaced almost entirely by pleasure. You moaned softly into his chest as you bit at his pec and sucked his nipple while he kept digging his cock into you.

Your whole body shook and spasmed for a solid minute as you came more intensely than you ever had before. Orryg grunted as the feeling of your body convulsing around him brought him nearly to his climax. The trike man upped the pace just a bit, his heavy balls smacking into you before he started knotting inside you and pumping you full of his virile spunk. One small mercy was that his knot was only a bit thicker than the rest of his cock, not over two times as wide like a modern alpha.

The volume of semen was such that it made you look heavy with child, which you certainly would be after lovemaking like this.

Now that you had been well and truly fucked there was only one thing left for your brand new "husband" to do to really seal the deal. He, with great caution, buried his fangs into your neck to mark you permanently as his to everyone who might see you. Which would be more than you might expect. This was Orryg's outpost, he stayed there while on patrol, but he usually lived with his herd.

It would be a hard adjustment for you to make. You would constantly be under Orryg's watchful gaze or the guard of his tribemates when he went to go hunt or if he went to do things too dangerous for you to be with him. You'd never be alone. Even in the safety of the herd, Orryg would obsessively treat you like something fragile. You would have to adjust your diet to what they ate, mostly fruit and vegetables though they ate meat too, though nothing was familiar to you. You would have to slowly learn their language so you could eventually communicate with the new society that "adopted" you.

But it was okay if it took you a while to get settled, you had all the time in the world.

[velvetvisionsaurora]

Alpha ATEEZ x Assistant Omega Reader

Warnings: omega reader, alpha ateez, scenting, heats, ruts, slow burn, eventual smut, forced command, more to come!

When Y/n accepts a position as assistant to alpha K-pop group ATEEZ, she's prepared with professional skills and scent blockers to hide her omega status. What she's not prepared for is the immediate, inexplicable connection she feels with all eight members—a resonance that defies her careful boundaries.

As Y/n becomes eerily attuned to their needs, her suppressed omega nature begins to emerge: purring for the first time in years, responding to alpha growls, feeling safe in ways she never has before. When a protective incident reveals the depth of the members' attachment to her, Y/n must confront the possibility that what binds them together is something ancient and profound.

<<Previous Next>>

Masterlist Ko-Fi☕️

Chapter 20: Hidden Pages

The afternoon sun cast dappled shadows through the trees as you and Yeosang made your way down a narrow side street in one of Seoul's older districts. The buildings here were different from the gleaming skyscrapers and modern structures that dominated most of the city—older, with character etched into their weathered facades and stories hidden in their architectural details.

"It's just around this corner," Yeosang said, his voice carrying a note of anticipation that made you smile. You'd never seen him quite this animated before, his usual quiet composure brightened by genuine excitement about sharing this special place with you.

As you rounded the corner, he gestured toward a narrow building squeezed between a traditional tea shop and a small art gallery. The bookstore's exterior was understated—a simple wooden door with glass panels, a modest sign in both Korean and English that read "Hidden Pages," and large windows that offered glimpses of towering bookshelves within.

"This is it," Yeosang said, pausing at the entrance. "It doesn't look like much from the outside, but..."

"But the best treasures are often hidden in plain sight," you finished, looking up at him with warm eyes. "Just like some people I know."

The compliment made color rise to his cheeks, and he ducked his head slightly before pushing open the door for you. A soft bell chimed as you entered, and immediately you understood why this place was special to him.

The interior was a book lovers dream—floor to ceiling shelves packed with books in multiple languages, cozy reading nooks tucked into corners, and that distinctive smell of aged paper and ink that seemed to permeate everything. Soft classical music played from hidden speakers, and warm light from vintage lamps created an atmosphere that felt more like a private library than a commercial bookstore.

"Welcome back, Yeosang," came a gentle voice from behind the main counter. An elderly man with kind eyes and wire-rimmed glasses looked up from the book he'd been cataloging. "And you've brought a friend."

"Mr. Park, this is Y/n," Yeosang said, his hand finding the small of your back as he guided you forward. "Y/n, this is Mr. Park, the owner. He knows more about books than anyone I've ever met."

"A pleasure to meet you," Mr. Park said with a warm smile. "Any friend of Yeosang's is welcome here. He's one of our most valued customers—always finding treasures that others overlook."

"I can see why he loves this place," you replied, already enchanted by the atmosphere. "It feels magical."

"Books have a way of creating magic," Mr. Park agreed. "Please, explore as much as you'd like. The poetry section is upstairs, along with the café. And Yeosang knows where to find all the hidden gems."

As Mr. Park returned to his cataloging, Yeosang turned to you with an expression that was both proud and slightly nervous. "Where would you like to start?"

"Show me your favorite section first," you suggested. "I want to see what draws you here."

Yeosang's face lit up as he led you deeper into the store, past sections of contemporary fiction and bestsellers, toward a quieter area in the back where the shelves held older, more eclectic collections.

"Philosophy and poetry," he explained, gesturing to the carefully organized shelves. "But also some rare editions and first prints. Mr. Park has a talent for acquiring books that you can't find anywhere else."

You watched as he moved through the stacks with the easy familiarity of someone who'd spent countless hours here. His fingers trailed along the spines of books with gentle reverence, and you found yourself captivated by this side of him—passionate, knowledgeable, completely in his element.

"This one," he said, pulling a slim volume from the shelf, "is a collection of translated Korean poetry from the early 1900s. The translation work is incredible—it manages to preserve the emotional resonance of the original while making it accessible to English readers."

He opened the book to a page he'd clearly marked before, his voice taking on a different quality as he read a few lines aloud. The words were beautiful, but it was the way he spoke them—with such care and understanding—that made your heart flutter.

"That's beautiful," you said softly when he finished. "You have a lovely reading voice."

"I used to read to my sister when we were younger," he admitted, closing the book but keeping it in his hands. "She said poetry sounded better when I read it aloud."

The small personal revelation made you want to know more about his family, his childhood, all the experiences that had shaped the thoughtful man beside you. But before you could ask, he was already moving to another section, eager to show you more treasures.

"And this," he said, reaching for a higher shelf, "is a first edition of—"

His words cut off as he stretched upward, his shirt riding up slightly to reveal a strip of toned stomach. You found your eyes drawn to the lean muscle there, the way his body moved with unconscious grace. When he noticed you looking, a different kind of heat entered his gaze.

"Sorry," you said, not sounding sorry at all. "You're just... very nice to look at."

"Y/n," he said quietly, your name carrying a warmth that made your pulse quicken.

"What? I'm just appreciating the view while you reach for books. It's called multitasking."

Yeosang laughed, a genuine sound of delight that transformed his entire face. "Is that what we're calling it?"

"Among other things," you replied with a playful smile, stepping closer to him. "But please, continue. I'm very interested in... rare books."

The way you said it, with that slight emphasis and the mischievous glint in your eyes, made his breathing catch. There was definitely a new energy building between you, something flirtatious and charged that made the quiet bookstore feel intimate and full of possibility.

"Well," he said, his voice dropping slightly as he pulled the book from the shelf, "this particular volume is quite... special. It requires very careful handling."

"I can be very careful," you assured him, moving close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. "When something is worth taking care of."

Yeosang's eyes darkened as he caught your meaning, the book momentarily forgotten in his hands. "Are we still talking about books?"

"Are we?" you countered, looking up at him through your lashes.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you crackling with tension and possibility. Then Yeosang cleared his throat softly, glancing around the store.

"Perhaps," he said, his voice slightly rougher than usual, "we should continue exploring. There's so much more I want to show you."

"Lead the way," you replied, though you made sure to brush against him as you moved, enjoying the way his breath hitched at the contact.

The next hour passed in a delightful haze of literary discovery and increasingly bold flirtation. Yeosang showed you rare manuscripts, beautiful art books, and hidden alcoves filled with volumes on obscure subjects. You found yourself drawn not just to the books, but to watching him—the way his eyes lit up when he found something particularly interesting, the gentle way he handled even the most worn volumes, the quiet passion in his voice when he explained why a particular work was significant.

And he seemed equally captivated by you—your genuine interest in his explanations, your thoughtful questions, the way you laughed at his dry observations about some of the more pretentious literary critics whose works lined the shelves.

"You know," you said as you browsed through a section of vintage travel guides, "I never expected to find book shopping this... stimulating."

Yeosang, who had been reaching for a volume on the top shelf, paused and looked down at you with raised eyebrows. "Stimulating?"

"Intellectually stimulating," you clarified with mock innocence, though your smile suggested otherwise. "All this talk of rare bindings and... careful handling. It's very educational."

"I see," he said, climbing down from the small step stool he'd been using. "And here I thought you were just being a diligent student."

"Oh, I'm very diligent," you assured him, stepping closer as he descended. "I always pay close attention to my teachers."

The way you said 'teachers' made his eyes flash with something that was definitely not scholarly, and you found yourself backed against the bookshelf as he moved closer.

"Is that so?" he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear. "And what have you learned so far?"

"That you have excellent taste," you replied, your voice equally quiet. "In books and... other things."

"Other things?"

"Places," you said, gesturing around the intimate bookstore. "Atmosphere. The way you choose to spend your time with someone special."

Yeosang's hand came up to rest against the shelf beside your head, his body creating a small cocoon of privacy around you. "Someone special?"

"Very special," you confirmed, looking up into his dark eyes.

The moment stretched between you, charged with possibility. You were acutely aware of how close he was, the way his scent—clean and warm with hints of bergamot—surrounded you. His eyes dropped to your lips for just a moment before returning to meet your gaze.

"The café upstairs," he said softly. "Would you like to see it?"

"I'd like to see everything you want to show me," you replied, the words carrying layers of meaning.

Yeosang's smile was soft but held an edge of something more intense. "Then let's go up."

The narrow staircase to the second floor was tucked away in the back corner of the store, barely wide enough for two people. As you climbed ahead of Yeosang, you could feel his presence close behind you, the warmth of his body and the way his breathing had become slightly uneven.

The upstairs café was even more intimate than the bookstore below—small round tables scattered among more bookshelves, soft lighting from table lamps, and large windows that looked out over the quiet street. Only a few other patrons were present, all absorbed in their own books and conversations.

"Corner table?" Yeosang suggested, nodding toward a small table tucked between two tall bookshelves that would offer relative privacy.

"Perfect," you agreed, following him to the secluded spot.

As you settled into the comfortable chairs, Yeosang caught the attention of the café server and ordered tea for both of you—something called "poet's blend" that he assured you was exceptional. When you were alone again, the atmosphere felt different. More intimate, more charged with possibility.

"This place is incredible," you said, looking around at the combination café and library. "I can see why you love it here."

"It's peaceful," Yeosang agreed. "A place where you can think, or read, or just... exist without the noise of the outside world."

"Is that what you do here? Just exist?"

"Sometimes," he admitted. "When the schedules get overwhelming, or when I need to process something complex. I come here and let the quiet settle into my mind."

You reached across the small table and took his hand, enjoying the way his fingers immediately intertwined with yours. "Thank you for sharing it with me. For letting me into this part of your world."

"Thank you for wanting to see it," he replied, his thumb tracing gentle circles across your knuckles. "I wasn't sure if you'd find it interesting."

"Yeosang," you said seriously, "watching you talk about something you're passionate about is one of the most attractive things I've ever experienced. The way your whole face lights up, the way you handle the books like they're treasures... it's beautiful."

Color rose to his cheeks again, but he didn't look away. "You make me feel like the things I care about matter."

"They do matter. You matter."

The server arrived with your tea, providing a brief interruption to the intensity building between you. But as soon as you were alone again, the charged atmosphere returned.

"This is delicious," you said after taking a sip of the aromatic blend. "Complex. Layered."

"Like you," Yeosang said quietly, his eyes holding yours over the rim of his teacup.

The simple compliment sent warmth spreading through your chest. "Is that your professional opinion, Professor Kang?"

"My very professional opinion," he confirmed with a slight smile. "Though I may need to conduct further research to be completely certain."

"Research?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow. "What kind of research?"

"Extensive research," he said, his voice dropping to that low register that made your pulse quicken. "Thorough investigation. Very... hands-on methodology."

The academic language delivered with such obvious double meaning made you laugh, but it was breathless laughter that carried heat. "I do appreciate thorough research methods."

"I thought you might," he said, his gaze dropping to your lips again. "I'm very dedicated to my research."

"How dedicated?" you asked, leaning forward slightly.

"I believe in exploring every possible angle," he replied, his own body language mirroring yours as he leaned closer across the small table. "Leaving no stone unturned."

"Very admirable," you breathed, acutely aware of how close your faces were now, how his eyes had darkened with unmistakable desire.

"Y/n," he said softly, your name carrying a question and a promise.

"Yes?"

"I think," he said, his gaze flicking around the café to confirm that your corner table was relatively hidden from view, "that I'd like to begin my research now."

"Here?" you asked, though your tone suggested the idea was more thrilling than shocking.

"Just a preliminary investigation," he assured you, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. "To determine if further study is warranted."

Instead of answering with words, you closed the remaining distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was anything but preliminary.

Yeosang's response was immediate and intense. His hand tangled in your hair as he deepened the kiss, the careful control he usually maintained slipping away in the face of his desire for you. The small table between you became an obstacle as you both strained to get closer, the need for contact overwhelming rational thought.

"This table," he murmured against your lips, "is very inconvenient for research purposes."

"Terrible design flaw," you agreed breathlessly, your hands fisting in his shirt to pull him closer despite the physical barriers.

Yeosang glanced around quickly, then stood and held out his hand to you. "There's a section in the back," he said quietly, his voice rough with want. "Poetry. Very quiet. Very... private."

Without hesitation, you took his hand and let him lead you away from the table, leaving your tea forgotten as you moved deeper into the maze of bookshelves. The poetry section he mentioned was indeed tucked away in the back corner, surrounded by tall stacks that created a sense of complete seclusion.

The moment you were hidden from view, Yeosang turned and pressed you gently back against the bookshelf, his body caging you in as his mouth found yours again. This kiss was different from the tentative exploration at the table—hungrier, more desperate, full of all the desire that had been building between you throughout the afternoon.

Your hands roamed over his chest, feeling the lean muscle beneath his soft sweater, while his fingers traced along your jawline, your neck, everywhere he could reach. The taste of tea lingered on his lips, mixed with something that was purely him, and you found yourself addicted to the combination.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered against your mouth, his hands framing your face as if you were something precious and rare. "I've been wanting to touch you like this all afternoon."

"Then don't stop," you breathed back, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair, pulling him down for another deep kiss.

Time seemed suspended in your hidden alcove among the poetry books. Yeosang's mouth moved against yours with increasing urgency, his careful composure completely abandoned as he lost himself in the taste and feel of you. His hands had found their way to your waist, pulling you closer against him, while yours mapped the strong lines of his shoulders and back.

"Y/n," he gasped against your neck, having moved to trail kisses along the sensitive skin there. "We should... people might..."

"Let them," you replied recklessly, your head tilting back to give him better access. "I don't care."

The declaration seemed to snap something in him. His mouth returned to yours with renewed intensity, and you could feel the full force of his desire in the way he held you, kissed you, breathed your name like a prayer.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing hard, your clothes slightly disheveled and your lips swollen from kissing. Yeosang rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he tried to regain some semblance of control.

"That was," he started, then seemed to lose track of his words.

"Research?" you suggested with a breathless laugh.

"Very thorough research," he agreed, opening his eyes to meet yours. The heat still burning in his gaze made your pulse quicken all over again. "Though I think I need to collect more data."

"I'm always willing to contribute to scientific advancement," you said solemnly, though your smile was anything but serious.

"Good," he said, leaning down to press one more soft kiss to your lips. "Because I have a feeling this research is going to require multiple sessions."

"I look forward to it," you whispered back.

Reluctantly, you both began the process of making yourselves presentable again—smoothing rumpled clothes, finger-combing disheveled hair, trying to look like you'd been innocently browsing poetry rather than making out among the verses.

"Should we head back downstairs?" Yeosang asked, though he seemed reluctant to leave your private alcove.

"Probably," you agreed, equally reluctant. "Before Mr. Park wonders what happened to us."

As you made your way back through the café and down the narrow staircase, Yeosang's hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in a gesture that felt both intimate and claiming. When you reached the main floor, Mr. Park looked up from his work with a knowing smile.

"Find everything you were looking for?" he asked innocently.

"And more," Yeosang replied, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "Thank you for the recommendation on the poetry section. Very... inspiring."

"Poetry has a way of moving people," Mr. Park agreed with a twinkle in his eye that suggested he wasn't entirely naive about what had transpired upstairs. "I hope you'll both come back soon."

"We definitely will," you assured him, meaning every word.

As you and Yeosang stepped back out onto the quiet street, the late afternoon sun painted everything in golden hues. The air felt different somehow—charged with new possibilities and the lingering heat of your encounter among the books.

"So," Yeosang said as you began walking back toward the main road, "how did you find your first visit to Hidden Pages?"

"Educational," you replied with a mischievous smile. "I learned a lot about... poetry."

"Poetry," he repeated with a laugh. "Is that what we're calling it?"

"Among other things," you said, echoing your earlier flirtation.

Yeosang stopped walking and turned to face you, his expression serious despite the heat still simmering in his eyes. "Y/n, I want you to know that this—today, sharing this place with you, being with you like this—it means everything to me."

"It means everything to me too," you replied sincerely, reaching up to cup his cheek. "Thank you for trusting me with something so special to you."

"Thank you for making it even more special," he said, turning his head to press a soft kiss to your palm.

As you continued walking, your hands linked and your hearts full, you couldn't help but think that Hidden Pages had given you more than just a glimpse into Yeosang's world—it had given you both a perfect afternoon of discovery, connection, and the kind of romance that belonged in the pages of the poetry books you'd been kissing among.

"Next time," Yeosang said as you reached the main street, "I'll show you the rare manuscripts section."

"Next time," you agreed with a smile that promised more adventures, more discoveries, and definitely more research among the stacks.

–––

The ride back to the house was thick with tension that had nothing to do with Seoul's evening traffic. Yeosang sat in the driver's seat with white-knuckled hands gripping the steering wheel, his usual calm composure nowhere to be found. You could feel his alpha energy radiating from him in waves—controlled but barely, like a carefully banked fire that was threatening to break free at any moment.

Every time you shifted in your seat, his eyes would flick to you and then quickly back to the road, his jaw clenching with visible effort. The afternoon at the bookstore had awakened something in both of you, and the confined space of the car was making the sexual tension almost unbearable.

"You're very quiet," you observed, your voice coming out softer and more breathless than you'd intended.

"Trying to concentrate," Yeosang replied, his voice rougher than usual. "On driving. And not pulling over."

"Pulling over for what?" you asked innocently, though the heat in your gaze suggested you knew exactly what.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Don't tease me right now, Y/n. I'm barely holding on as it is."

The raw honesty in his voice sent a thrill through you. This was a side of Yeosang you'd never seen—his careful control slipping, his alpha nature more prominent than his usual thoughtful restraint. The combination was intoxicating.

You reached behind your ear and slowly, deliberately, peeled away your scent blocker.

The effect was immediate and devastating. Your natural jasmine and vanilla scent flooded the small space, but now it was laced with something else—the unmistakable sweetness of arousal that had been building all afternoon. The combination hit Yeosang like a physical blow.

His foot pressed harder on the accelerator as he sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes flashing gold for just a moment before he forced them back to brown. "Y/n," he said, your name coming out like a warning and a plea. "What are you doing?"

"Letting you know how you make me feel," you replied simply, watching as his alpha senses processed the full impact of your unfiltered scent. "How the afternoon made me feel. How right now, sitting next to you, knowing what your hands feel like, what you taste like..."

"Fuck," he breathed, the curse unusual coming from his typically composed lips. The car swerved slightly as his concentration wavered, and he had to grip the wheel tighter to maintain control. "You're going to make me crash."

"Then drive faster," you suggested with a smile that was pure temptation.

Yeosang's response was to press the accelerator further, the city blurring past as he navigated the familiar route home with newfound urgency. His alpha scent was getting stronger too—musk and cherry blossoms now mixed with something darker, more primal. The combination of your scents in the enclosed space was creating a feedback loop of desire that had both of you breathing hard by the time he pulled into the driveway.

He'd barely put the car in park before he was turning to face you, his eyes blazing with intensity. "Inside," he said, his voice carrying unmistakable alpha command. "Now. Before I do something very inappropriate in this car."

You didn't need to be told twice. You were both out of the car and moving toward the house with quick, purposeful steps, the tension between you so thick it was almost visible. Yeosang's hand found the small of your back as he guided you to the front door, the possessive touch sending electricity through your entire system.

The moment you stepped through the front door, Wooyoung bounced up from the couch where he'd been sprawled with a gaming controller, his face lighting up with excitement.

"You're back! How was the bookstore? Did you find anything good? Did Yeosang bore you to death with poetry quotes?" He was already moving toward you with his arms outstretched, clearly intending to pull you into one of his enthusiastic hugs.

But before he could reach you, a low growl rumbled from Yeosang's chest—playful but unmistakably possessive.

"No," Yeosang said firmly, his arm sliding around your waist to pull you against his side. His voice carried an authority that none of them had heard from him before, alpha dominance bleeding through his usual gentle demeanor.

Wooyoung stopped mid-step, his eyes widening with surprise and interest as he took in Yeosang's protective posture and the obvious tension radiating from both of you. "Oh," he said, a slow grin spreading across his face as understanding dawned. "OH. Well then."

Without giving anyone time to comment further, Yeosang was guiding you toward the stairs, his hand firm and possessive on your hip. "We'll be upstairs," he announced to the room at large, his tone suggesting that interruptions would not be welcome.

"Have fun!" Wooyoung called after you with barely contained glee. "Don't break anything important!"

"Wooyoung," came Seonghwa's exasperated voice from the kitchen doorway, clearly having witnessed the entire exchange.

"What? I'm being supportive! Very encouraging!"

You could hear the others beginning to gather in the living room, drawn by Wooyoung's dramatic commentary, but Yeosang was already pulling you up the stairs with single-minded determination. His room was at the end of the hall, and he led you there with the focused intensity of an alpha who had finally reached the end of his restraint.

The moment his bedroom door closed behind you, the atmosphere changed completely. Gone was the careful politeness of the bookstore, replaced by something raw and hungry that made the air itself feel electric.

Yeosang turned to face you, his back against the door, his eyes dark with desire and something deeper—possession, claim, the need to make you his in every way possible.

"Do you have any idea," he said, his voice low and rough, "what you've been doing to me all afternoon?"

"Tell me," you replied, stepping closer to him with deliberate slowness.

"The way you looked at me in the bookstore. The way you listened when I talked about the books, like what I had to say actually mattered. The way you let me kiss you among the poetry..." His hands clenched at his sides as if he was fighting not to reach for you immediately. "And then in the car, removing your blocker, letting me smell how much you want me..."

...Yeosang barely got the words out before the last of his restraint shattered. He surged forward, hands catching your face and waist at once, yanking you into a kiss so fierce it stole the air from your lungs. It wasn’t gentle—wasn’t even patient anymore. After an entire day of holding back, his need seared through every motion.

He tasted every gasp, every whimper, his scent filling the bedroom now that your own was free—jasmine and vanilla tangling with the deep, heady undercurrent of his alpha arousal. His hands slid into your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head and expose your throat.

“Yeosang—” you breathed, but your voice broke as his lips traced the line of your jaw, down your neck to the fluttering pulse there. He grazed his teeth lightly over your skin, drawing a shudder from you.

“You know what you do to me?” His voice was hoarse, barely more than a growl in your ear as he pressed you back until your knees hit the edge of his bed. “You turn every word, every look, into a promise I can’t keep—unless I have you. All of you.”

You flushed with heat, arousal sparking sharp and urgent through your veins. “Then take me, Yeosang. I’m yours.”

That, apparently, was the last thread holding him together.

He gripped your hips and lifted you easily onto the mattress, his body caging you. Your hands slid beneath his shirt, eager to touch, to feel the racing heart and tense muscles beneath. “Too many clothes,” you muttered, and Yeosang was already stripping his sweater off, baring pale skin and lean strength.

He helped you tug off your own shirt, pausing only to dip his head and press open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, your shoulder, wherever he could reach. His hands were everywhere—urgent and reverent all at once—thumbs brushing the curve of your ribcage, fingers splaying at your back.

Your scent was thick in the air now, sweet and unmistakably needy. Yeosang paused, just for a heartbeat, and buried his face along your neck, inhaling deeply. A shiver ran through him. “God, you smell perfect,” he whispered. “Drives me out of my mind.”

You arched into him, whimpering when his mouth latched onto the sensitive skin below your ear. “I want you to lose control,” you admitted, voice trembling. “I want you to show me what you feel.”

He growled again, edging on feral. “Be careful what you wish for, Y/n.”

There was no more patience then. He pushed you gently but insistently down onto the bed, shedding his own clothes with quick, deft movements while peppering every bare inch of you with kisses—soft at your throat, sharper across your hip, soothing at your stomach as your breath came in panting gasps. His scent—cherry blossom and something spicy, something only you could coax out of him—wrapped around you, dizzying.

His hands found the waistband of your pants, hesitating just enough to flick his eyes up and get your breathless, urgent nod.

“Yes. Please, Yeosang, I want—”

He slid them off in one smooth motion, his palm following, caressing down your thigh, tracing upward until he found the heat between your legs. His fingers brushed your slickness, his eyes darkening further when he realized just how badly you needed him.

He spread you open, gentle but relentless, gaze raking over you as if committing you to memory. “You’re so wet,” he murmured, voice full of awe and something primal. “All for me?”

“All for you,” you gasped, hips canting toward his touch.

Yeosang leaned down, mouth hot and insistent as he kissed you again—capturing your gasp as he finally slid a finger inside you, then another, curling just right as his thumb circled your clit. You spasmed against him, back arching, and he groaned, the possessive alpha edge unmistakable now.

“I’m going to make you come for me,” he promised, voice thick and desperate. “Right here, before I claim you. Before you feel all of me.”

All you could do was nod, already spiraling—his fingers, his scent, his everything making your body vibrate with need. You clutched his biceps, nails leaving marks as you chased the edge. Yeosang’s free hand fisted in your hair, holding you steady as his touch grew rougher, more insistent, dragging pleasure out of you.

“That’s it, princess,” he encouraged, breath hot against your ear. “Let go for me. Show me you’re mine.”

You came hard, a rush of heat and light flooding your senses as you choked out his name. The noise Yeosang made was almost a snarl, and he kissed you through it—deep and hungry. His hand gentled, easing you down, stroking you as your body trembled, melting under his touch.

When the aftershocks faded, you opened your eyes to see him watching you with tender, worshipful awe—and desperate, unspent hunger. You reached for him, pulling him down, needing him closer.

“Your turn,” you whispered, voice hoarse with want. “Claim me, Yeosang. Make me yours.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. With a swift, sure movement, he positioned himself over you, pausing just long enough to look into your eyes—searching, pleading for any flicker of doubt.

There was none. You lifted your hips in invitation, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He pushed into you, slow but deep, a groan dragged from his chest that sounded like relief and possession and reverence all at once. The fullness of him, the heat, the feeling of being connected in every way—body, scent, heart—was almost too much.

Yeosang pressed his forehead to yours, shuddering as he bottomed out, holding still to let you both adjust. Then he began to move, hips rolling, every thrust pushing you tighter together, your scents mingling until the entire room felt heavy with belonging.

You clung to him, hands in his hair, his breath stuttering against your lips as he whispered your name—over and over, words breaking, dissolving into animal need.

He fucked you with abandon, claiming each gasp, each moan, as his due, marking your neck and chest with his mouth. As you knotted together, bonded in sensation and want, Yeosang finally surrendered, losing himself in you, in everything you offered.

And when you shattered beneath him again, he followed, his body locked against yours, his heart pounding out a rhythm that perfectly matched your own.

Afterward, Yeosang just held you—arms wrapped tight around your trembling form, his forehead still pressed to yours. His scent was all over you now, and yours on him, and there was nothing left hidden between you.

“Mine,” he whispered, voice still ragged, dizzy with love and shock and awe.

“Yours,” you breathed, smiling, blissfully.

Next>>

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[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 12

Y'all are getting two chapters today because a little silly someone, won't @ because they haven't asked to be tagged in the tag list and Idk if they'd like the call out but they know who they are, liked every chapter and I loved your little comments so I finished chapter 13 so I can post this chapter only fueled by your excitement 🥰🥹

CW: people are getting their ass beat, so mention of blood and decapitation.

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 12 >>next

With Nolan completely refusing to face anyone lately, and the announcement that the guardians are dead, you had to get away. You couldn’t sit and wait for him, couldn’t cry over the guardians, couldn’t sit by and watch how worried Debbie was every morning when he’d left. You just couldn’t.

So, while Mark went to university with Amber and William, you cashed in your vacation days and let the shadows lead you away over the seas to Romania. Softly landing in the Hoia-Baciu Forest felt—surprisingly—like home.

The whispers of the shadows nudged you around the forest, deeper and deeper, past the oddly shaped trees straight to a burnt circle of land where dried trees grew. Walking past the circle changed the scenery, from gloomy grey trunks to moss-covered, flourishing weeping willows circling a little lake.

Walking back to the edge of the circle, you stuck half of your body out and back observing the change happening right before your eyes. It seemed to be a Midnight City magic dome thing. Inside the dome, it was quite beautiful, the astilbes and the Japanese irises giving some color to the landscape. Your hands softly traced the taller flora as you got closer to the lake, lifting off the ground to move towards the center where a small piece of rock was.

This was a great place for an altar and the shadows greatly approved, too. Sitting on your ass, crisscross apple sauce, you placed your hands on the smooth surface, transfiguring it to expand and even out a bit more.

By the time you were done setting wards so no one could find the place and adding the actual altar and the statues for Lady Gotham and Death it was already so late.

With a small sigh, you place yourself in front of the altar once more. You were never religious, your biological mother didn’t care, Bruce didn’t, the Graysons didn’t- it felt awkward to pray to them. Constantine mentioned that praying to them could just be talking to them, they’re not Yahweh, they’re not Allah, they don’t abide by those rules.

So, you didn’t either. You thanked them for the blessings they gave you, hoped they were well, and told them about your day, leaving them with a bowl of sliced apples and some flowers, deciding to visit the rest of the country while you still had a few days of vacation.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Went to Mars, almost got killed by Martians, got the shit beaten out of me for trying to help the Titan, got half of Teen Team- er… the new Guardians in hospital. Also, his one guy in the college was kidnapping male students he saw as peak alpha males and modifying them to essentially turn them into robocops wannabes consisting of no free will and mech bodies, including William’s boyfriend, for the betterment of the human race.” Marks sighs tiredly. “Amber and I broke up and made up again. Told her I’m Invincible… she knew.”

Debbie just looked at her son, before turning to look at you. Maybe she should stop asking how everyone’s day was. “Don’t look at me like that, ma. For once I had a normal day. Visited a lot of places in Romania after finding a little nook for my altar and got some presents for you two and our friends.” You shrug as you take another bite of food. “How was your day?”

Your mother smiles. Well, maybe she shouldn’t, it was the little normality she had in her life. “Sold a penthouse to a billionaire who had a set of all gold teeth.” You snort at that. “That’s one way to show off.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Since sunrise Mark has been searching for his dad and once he did, he immediately tackled him, rolling through the air for a bit before stopping. “Where have you been?! Why haven’t you said anything?” Nolan didn’t get to respond Mark continued. “Are you cheating on mom? Do you have a second family or something?”

“What?! Of course not! Why would you-“ Nolan stutters at the audacity. “Because one day you just decided to up and disappear! You barely come home anymore- Do you even love us anymore? I need you to think about it before you answer- really consider it, because I want you to mean it truthfully- Do you love us?”

The older Viltrumite couldn’t hide the shock, the anguish as he actually thought about it. Loving them meant going against his mission- to a small degree, sure, he could still finish it- but- “Yes... I-I do. I truly love your mother and you deeply. I love your sister just as much. You three are very important to me.”

“Then stop this- nonsense!” Mark waved his arms around. “You’ve been missing for almost two months, barely come home to sleep- You know how paranoid my sister is, she’s making plans over plans on how to take you down because she thinks you snapped and are trying to conquer the planet.”

“She thinks I plan to conquer Earth?” Nolan asks softly, hands clenching at his side. “Yes! She thinks me and mom don’t know but I found her encrypted files- she thinks now that you know the Viltrumites can create offsprings that have powers with humans, you have started making plans to take over. She thinks you killed the Guardians because they could have slowed you down, maybe even stopped you- she thinks you’ll come to me and ask me to help- that you’ll come clean and confess that the Viltrumites are- are these-“

Mark couldn’t finish… How could he? You didn’t come up with these ideas out of thin air- you had evidence. Circumstantial evidence- but it still was so compelling, too many coincidences to be just nothing. “She made plans that could take me down, too. Just in case I would accept to help you- she’s gone mad, dad. And- and I started to believe it too.”

Mark looks at his father, straight in his eyes. “So I need you to come home, to talk to us- I don’t want to believe it- I don’t want to think that you’d ask me to do such bullshit.” The young man clenched his fist. “Please tell me she’s wrong- because if she isn’t- I won’t help you. I’ll do anything to stop yo-“ Mark didn’t finish as Nolan threw a punch, breaking his mask and making him bite his cheek.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Honestly, Eve, I can’t believe you didn’t dump Rex the first time he cheated.” You sipped on your soft drink as you walked with Eve. “I know- It’s just- we both-“ She tried to come up with a reason, just a tiny one to try and keep her pride. “You both got your powers in a lab- yes. I know. That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve the respect of a man. And I can’t believe Kat jumped at the first opportunity- is the ‘not your bestie’s ex’ not in the girl rulebook anymore?”

As Eve opened her mouth to respond to that, what came out was a gasp of shock as her eyes caught the fight happening on the news. “What? Are the news more import-“ As you tuned to look behind you at the TVs in the electronics shop your mouth dropped with the drink you were holding.

The flashing pictures of Mark and the Immortal fighting furiously against Nolan make your blood run cold. The robot cameras that were flying around the men managed to pick up some of the conversation, mostly Immortal furiously yelling but- “This isn’t you! You don’t want to do this! You just feel like you have no choice, but you do!” they caught Mark too.

“Is your dad being mind-controlled?” Eve asks, clearly worried as she looks at you. “No…” Is all you say before you disappear with a breeze of air. It wasn’t a good idea to travel via magic right now. Eve caught a glimpse of Omni-man decapitating The Immortal before she changed into her costume and tried to keep up with you.

Somewhere in space, the League of Justice and Laughing Magician could only watch in terror as the news kept up with the man and his son. “Please don’t��� Please don’t try and stop him.” John’s whispered payers were met only with Batman’s suspicious glare. “We should go and help!” Superman’s worried pleas was quickly shut down.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Mark couldn’t register everything his father yelled at him as they fought through the air, and he definitely could not after being thrown into the ground and punched twice. But he could answer one question. “You and her… I’d still have you and my sister, dad.” And Nolan hesitated on his third punch. But you didn’t.

Your hit threw Nolan off Mark, making the older man crash into a crater of his own. You didn’t let him get a break. “I trusted you! We all did!” Punch after punch, the ground beneath his head created a bigger and bigger hole. “Mom and Mark love you! I love you! And you go and chose them?!”

You didn’t even notice when John Constantine popped in, almost stumbling through the portal as he ran to your brother, racking his brain for every healing spell he could use. He didn’t care that Bruce would corner him when he went back and interrogate him about this, not when you needed him.

“What is so important about them that we didn’t give you?! You haven’t seen them in years-“ Your yelling cracked as you sobbed, your tears mixing with the blood of the man. Why didn’t he choose you? “Why not us? Why them?! Why are you letting me beat the shit out of you?!” As your hands clenched above your head in a double axe handle motion, ready to turn his face into mush, you’re stopped by your brother’s voice calling your name.

Your fury turns to fear and worry as you look towards him, getting up just to stumble towards him and John. Your tears clouded your vision as you fell to your knees by Mark, gently holding his hand as you inquired about him. “I’m fine- just like, five punches to the head and a throw to the ground.” He croaked out, flinching slightly as his nose set back into place while John continued doing his best to heal the young man.

“In other universes, you either die or get the snot and spline beaten outta ya- this is so much better kid.” Constantine immediately cringes at his words, his eyes meeting yours as he instantly apologizes. “- I should have told you, hen-“

The sound of the sonic boom doesn’t even make you flinch. If Nolan wanted to run away, that was fine by you. “I knew. Nobody is that kind just to help out of the goodness of their hearts.” You said softly, reassuring him with a squeeze of his arm. “I should have done more. Should have told the Guardians or someone about my suspicions, my plans on how to deal with him-”

“You made contingency plans?” At your stutter and confused look, Mark could only laugh, immediately getting what the man meant. The rumors of Batman’s paranoia were true after all. “She even made a few for me in case I accepted.” John huffed in amusement at that. “Well- then we better keep you away from the Bat, he may just adopt you.” Some of the League’s members couldn’t hold in their laughs at the utter disgust your face showed. “With my track record of father figures you better keep the furry as far away from me as possible.” Constantine could hear Hal's laughter from where he sat as she finished speaking.

“We should get going before Cecil shows up.” You sigh while helping Mark get up. “We’re moving again? I just got here…” Eve said as she finally landed, getting Mark’s other side. “You both were hard to find, and I missed everything.”

“No need- I can help with that.” John groans as he gets up, brushing his pants off before he opens a portal to Mark’s home. “Alright, let’s get the lad home.” He lets the kids through first, and before he steps in too, he makes sure to flip off the robot cameras, just for Bruce.

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou

[lyrefromthesea]

I really liked the idea of wolf hybrids hashiras :DD.

so maybe now wolf hybrids hashiras who are obsessed with the reader and the thought of owning the reader so they want to mark them somehow? for example by scenting them or leaving bites, etc.

Male Hashira x reader - Courting done right

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Gyomei x reader

content warning: wolf hybrid!au, omega!reader

Tengen:

• gifts. gifts. gifts. have i mentioned he's going to use gifts?

• such a cute omega, he is more than ready to take care of you and take you in as his tsugoku, his new lover - his everything. you're just not recognizable as his. not yet.

• he makes a point out of bestowing gifts upon you. they always have to be expensive and flashy. the gift that got everything going was a perfume, the same all his wives had.

• every demon slayer knows that exact scent, it's just that there's now a fourth individual wearing it. everyone realized it sooner than you - you carried the same hint as his wives.

Obanai:

• he gives you obvious hints about his courting intentions, directly telling you that he would like to take you to a nice restaurant or walk you home.

• but do not expect him to actually spell it out, he's not the kind of person to do it. by the time you openly acknowledge your relationship, everyone around the two of you has already thought you were mates.

• small presents and weekly dinners are more than common, he needs to show you that he can take care of you.

Rengoku:

• biting and scenting. it started with scenting though.

• when he finds you curled up somewhere, dozing off after a mission, he always does the same thing. as soon as he made sure you're really asleep, he's by your side, warm arms wrapping around your body and keeping you close.

• waking up and realizing that his scent had rubbed off on you, you are more than happy. it becomes natural to wake up with him by your side. the biting started after a kakushi eyed you weirdly. Kyojuro reacts quickly, leaving a bite on your shoulder before nuzzling against you like usually.

• neither of you complains about the new addition to his old habits. in fact, you make sure to doze off near him sometimes, happy to wake up with a new mark.

Sanemi:

• he's possessive of you, definitely not in the cute way either. when he realizes other corps members take interest in you, he's lurking near you. it doesn't take long for others to flee, the man is staring daggers into them.

• he starts to come up with courting methods when he realizes you're not going to be around him all the time. he needs to make his presence known, even when he's not really there.

• he's quick to give you a few pieces of his clothes, telling you to wear them every now and then. the clothes nearly reek of his scent, strong pheromones taking over the area around them. if he wanted to prove he's an alpha, he had clearly succeeded.

• and though the clothes came with the best intention - protecting you - people subconsciously try to avoid you whenever you wear them.

Giyuu:

• he's not to sure about courting you, he had never done so before. he tries to sneak a few secrets from couples he watches walking past him. presents, taking you out, scenting - he had tried it all.

• eventually manages to eat outside with you from time to time, often finding yourself conversing under a tree. he had to stop his tail from swishing around when you leaned against his arm, resting your head against his shoulder. uses the moment to rub his cheek against you lightly, leaving a faint hint of his scent behind.

• it's always a nice surprise to find a small gift from him near your door, wrapped in a small cloth. he knows that you know where they come from, happy when he sees them on you the next day.

Gyomei:

• with him, you can't say when exactly the courting began. he first offered scenting you a few weeks after you were ranked a hashira. though it was slightly weird at first, you quickly became used to it.

• you knew he would never force the scenting on you, but it somehow gotten to a silent agreement. it was for your safety at first - demons prefered attacking omegas - he could cover your scent with his own.

• however, the simple scenting quickly escalated into a mark or two, nuzzling against each other and eventually leaving bites on your shoulders.

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Experiment: Omega | Bucky Barnes x Reader | Drabble - 788 words

You escape the HYDRA facility that created you just to be chased through the night. A mysterious Alpha finds you hiding but is he your salvation? Or your ruin?

Warnings: 18+ because HYDRA, reference to experimentation, omegaverse dynamics. If you think you've read this before, no you haven't (yes you probably have this is a repost)

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

The wind howled around you and the rain lashed against your face like a thousand pin pricks. Every branch you ran past seemed to grab and tear at you, your already ragged clothes shredding from your frame with each frightened stride into the darkness of the woods. 

Behind you, you could hear the baying of the dogs and the tell tale crack of trees and roots as the Jeeps mobilised. 

All you needed was a chance, a place to hide. You stopped. Taking in as much of the landscape as you could through the gloom of the trees and the water dripping into your eyes. Perhaps there was a fallen tree or hollow you could hide in? Either way you’d need to keep moving, the shouts of the guards calling your name grew ever closer.

Your heart thumped wildly in your ears, your vision blurred and then, suddenly. The rain stopped, the howling stopped, and you were being dragged backwards. Your bare feet slid in the mud and then hit dry rock, your toes barked against the rough surface and you yelped in pain until you came to a stop. A large palm covered your mouth, the thumb hooked over your nose, while your assailant’s left arm remained wrapped around your waist solid and cold.

“Be quiet.” He hissed behind you, his voice gravelly. 

You attempted to speak, to ask who he was, but he only pressed his hand down harder. 

“If you know what’s good for you — be quiet.” 

He was careful to keep his voice low, so that his words wouldn’t echo as they filtered into the back of the cave. He moved you both so that you were against the wall, away from any line of sight should your captors come looking, and you noticed that his left hand was nothing like the right. Instead of skin he had layers of silver metal, over laid like scales in some places, and shifting with his own movements like muscles beneath the skin. 

Outside of the cave voices rose and fell, trailing away until all you could hear was the rain and the wind and the sound of your heart beat. 

The man let you go, and you felt cold without his body heat behind you, but now you could spin and face him. He was tall, leaning slightly to one side with the weight of the metal plates that seemed to reach up under a thick, black leather jacket that stretched over his broad shoulders and chest. Dark tendrils of hair crept over his forehead and cheeks, and a black mask that covered the lower half of his face. Above it his eyes were strikingly blue, handsome even, despite his dishevelled appearance.

He wrapped his arm around your waist and cupped your face gently, rubbing his thumb over the delicate round of your cheek and with the other pulled down his mask to reveal stubbled cheeks and full pink lips. “I’m sorry that I had to be rough, they can’t catch us here.” He whispered.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be quiet, I don’t want to go back.” You said, firmly. 

But the man was distracted, bending down to rub his nose where your neck met your shoulder, “so they did it then.” His voice was a deep growl, “you’re an omega.” You felt his teeth graze your skin and a shudder of pleasure and pain rippled down your spine. 

“Yes, but I don’t know why. They’ve never brought anyone for me to be mated with.”

Something deep inside of you preened as the man kissed up your neck and nuzzled behind your ear, pressing himself against you, a feeling that you’d desired since they’d finished their last round of experiments on you. You should have pushed him away, but it felt so good, so right to be held like this and you’d been so cold and so alone in your cell. Your body called out to his, dipping and bending, allowing him to manhandle you. 

“What’s your name?” He asked, backing you against the cold wall of the cave. Outside the rain subsided slightly, electricity filling the air. 

“I don’t remember, they just call me, Omega.” A flash of lightning cut through the cave, casting the man into silhouette, the cut of his cheekbones and the breadth of his body in stark relief. 

He hummed in answer, both hands now feeling the dip of your waist and the fullness of your hips and thighs before lifting you with ease and holding you against the cave wall with his hips. 

“What should I call you?” You asked, thunder rumbling outside. 

The man pulled back slightly, an animalistic glint in his blue grey eyes. “You can call me, Alpha.” 

[nightmare-xlife]

The ponies are escalating. What started as a fun re-designing exercise, has now turned into a full blown AU.

So have a small comic, a family tree and some doodles and designs. As well as a few notes at the end with some explanations and small bits of lore.

Extra Notes:

I always liked the theory, that in TFA the protoform of Sari came from the Decepticons or more specifically Megatron.

I also find it incredibly hilarious how in Season 1, Megs keeps trying to build himself a new body, but just causes more sentient bots to be created, making him essentially a dad.

So I made both Soundwave and Sari his kids, although he only raised Soundwave (extremely reluctantly) and left Sari at a random door in a neutral town with her adoptive father Professor Sumdac.

I already have a few plot points focused around Megatron's family, mainly how his own raising impacted him as a father.

The idea of the 'cons giving up their kids is a reappearing theme. Since the Autobots and Decepticons are at war, a lot of 'cons leave their young in neutral towns, so they are not impacted by the war.

The Autobots are the complete opposites. They heavily rely on their community to help raise their young. Especially siblings help each other out.

As an example, Ultra Magnus and Alpha Trion were both single-fathers when raising OP, SP and RP, so they worked together. When one of them had a shift or had to go to the frontlines, the other took care of the kids. They also lived in the same house for convenience. This meant that cousins like OP and SP grew up seeing each other more as brothers.

The younger ponies also tend to early on become part of the war. In hard times, they would be considered the last line of defense and would be taking care of the younger fillies.

Some of the earlier, more saver missions young ponies get to do are reconnaissance/scouting missions, where small teams are sent out to look for new resources, allies and places to set up base.

On one these missions, Optimus's team ends up in the neutral town Sari is living in, known as Detroit. From there our story kicks off as Sari decides to set out together with Team Prime. This gets back to Megatron, who sends out his own team to track them down, determined to make sure Sari does not end up an Autobot.

[changbunnies]

Scent Of You (18+)

♡ Pairing: Wolf Hybrid!Bang Chan x Fem Bunny Hybrid!Reader x Wolf Hybrid!Changbin

♡ Genre: dubcon, little red riding hood au, fantasy/supernatural au, hybrid au, vague allusions to omegaverse dynamics, porn with plot

♡ Word Count: 7.8k (oops)

♡ Summary: In which a sweet, naive bunny hybrid nicknamed 'little red' becomes lost in the forest at night, and finds herself face to face with the big, bad wolves her grandmother always warned her about.

♡ Warnings: uses the little red riding hood fairytale as a base for inspiration before it devolves into smut, words like "alpha" and other omegaverse terms aren't used but the vibes are There lol

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): dubcon, pet names (though mostly as a title- such as bunny, little red, and sweetheart), the word slut is used a few times, gendered language such as "dirty girl", scent stuff lol, dom/sub dynamics (dom!chan, sub!reader, allusions to switch!bin), a lot of kissing, size difference, size kink (i'm sorry if you're tall just pretend ur small and they're huge because ur a rabbit and they're a wolf fsdgsdf), oral (m + f rec), spitroasting, some manhandling, some banter and mild rivalry between bin and chan, unprotected piv, dacryphilia, multiple orgasms and multiple creampies

♡ Notes: so i intended to take a small break from writing after finishing crave but inspo struck me as i was trying to fall asleep and i NEEDED to write it so i literally shot up and wrote all of this in one sitting in a cold sweat fsdgdsf so here we are, one last surprise upload before my break <3 it's easily the most self indulgent fic i've written to date dfdgh bunny is my fave petname and this is basically just my excuse to be called bunny in a wolf binchan sandwich lmao this is not as proofread as my other stuff given how quickly i wrote it, and it's my first time writing a threesome, but i hope you enjoy! edit: there is now a sequel you can read here !

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

"Please, take care sweetheart. Don't stay out too long," your grandmother warns with a tender kiss to your forehead as you prepare to head out for the day, pulling the hood of your long, red cape up over your head, tucking in your hair and covering your lopped ears.

"I know, grandmother, I know! I'll be back before you know it, I promise," you assure her with a smile, hooking your twine basket into your arm, empty and ready to be filled with treats of the forest.

Your grandmother heaves a soft sigh, as she falls back against the bed, and you give her hand a reassuring squeeze and a soft goodbye before you make your way out of your quaint cottage, a long line of intimidating, tall standing trees before you. Grandmother always worries for your safety, as the woods aren't entirely safe for a rabbit like yourself, but so long as the sun hangs bright in the sky, you'd be perfectly fine.

Really, it's only at night that the woods near your home become truly dangerous, as all manner of nocturnal predators leave their dens in search of their next meal. For a rabbit such as yourself, lingering in the woods at night is assuredly a death sentence; your diminutive stature and weak limbs would cause you to easily fall victim to the beasts that stalk through the forest with the moon's aid. 

The only thing on your side would be your speed, but even then it's no guarantee of safety once a predator has you in their sights. And so your grandmother always instilled a proper fear of the dark within you, in the hope that you'd never find yourself in a situation in which you'd have to flee in the first place.

Entering the forest brings with it countless anxieties for your species, but it's not like you can simply not go. The gifts of nature are what sustains you, and you have to enter the woods, even live near them, if you want to have food in your tummy and herbal medicines on your shelves. 

As such, you are always very conscious of the amount of time you spend in the forest, only ever entering when the sun is brightly illuminating your surroundings, always careful and alert as you gather what you need. You observe the sun's position in the sky, use it to determine how much time you have left before it begins to set, always heading back well before it starts to sink behind the trees.

And you'd never stay longer than necessary, especially not when you have grandmother waiting at home praying for your safe return! But well.. grandmother is quite ill these days, and you spent more time than you usually would gathering the berries and leaves you’ll need to make her sweet, healing brews of tea.

Soon enough, winter's chill would cause all the greenery to frost and wither, and you wanted to stock up now to ensure you had enough to last 'til the end of the season. It was for grandmother's health! Surely she'd understand and forgive you if you stayed out just a little longer than usual. 

But as dusk started to settle over the trees, and you realized how precious few moments of sunlight you had left to make it home with, panic began to accumulate in the pit of your stomach. You tried your best to take deep breaths, to not allow your heart to race– as long as you remained calm, you could get back before dark, you were sure of it. 

The more the sun sank however, the more you lost your clarity; you found yourself stumbling in circles, the encroaching dark causing the forest to become unrecognizable, leading you blindly in circles. You'd long since lost sight of the path you always followed home, and the moon and stars, which were normally such a beautiful sight, now came with a sense of foreboding.

It was dark, you were lost, and grandmother was now all alone, probably worrying herself half to death wondering where you could be and if you're even still alive. You continue blindly weaving your way through the trees, just praying that you're moving in the direction of home; you can't afford to hide away and wait until morning, not when a beast could be around any corner.

Using your speed to your advantage, you dart past a near endless sea of trees, praying, praying, and praying the clearing will come into view and you’ll see your cottage in the middle, with orange light from the fire peeking through the windows and smoke billowing from the chimney. 

Suddenly you stop, entire body freezing as your hair stands on end, nose twitching as an unfamiliar scent fills your nostrils; someone is near– someone that you should avoid at all costs. It’s so heavy, overwhelming beyond comprehension– the scent of the forest itself is still identifiable, but mixed now with something akin to leather, black coffee, and hot iron.

The scent is actually quite pleasant, so that's not what causes you to freeze; it’s the unfamiliarity that is the true root of the problem, evoking a deep rooted, innate fear response. You know all the “safe” smells– that of other prey animals such as yourself, for instance, are recognizable, comforting, and bring about a sense of calm.

To be met with the unfamiliar is to be met with danger; it means that whatever is near is something you’ve never encountered during your safe treks through the forest, it means that a predator likely has you in their sights. And as grandmother has told you, if you smell them it’s already too late– they’ve found you. 

“Now, now, what do we have here?” A deep voice calls, hidden from your sight. Your heart erupts in an erratic rhythm, a chill running down your spine as your eyes desperately search the darkness for the source of the voice. And there, you finally see it– or rather, him. A man, standing much, much taller and bulkier than you, sharp fangs exposed with his smile, fangs that you are sure will be used to rip you apart. 

You see pointed ears and dusky blue-silver fur, a long tail that swishes with intrigue and delight, a fur coat with the arms cut off, an exposed chest laden with scars both fresh and faded. He’s a wolf, you realize with dread, the thing you were taught to fear most of all.

You unconsciously take a step back as he approaches, the moonlight illuminating him in a way that evokes both fear and reverence; as beautiful as he is dangerous. “What’s a little thing like you doing in the forest at night, hmm? Don’t you know it isn’t safe, little red?” he says with a sickeningly sweet smile, referencing the caped hood you’re wearing, a gift from your grandmother meant to keep you safe from men like him.  

You clutch your basket tighter as your legs begin to tremble, lowering your head and pulling your hood down further, trying your best to ensure your ears and other features are completely covered. He probably knows by smell alone you’re a prey animal, but you vainly hope he’ll let you go if he doesn’t realize you’re a rabbit– a stupid hope, but it’s the only one you have.

“Poor thing, don’t be scared. You got lost, didn’t you, little red?” With each step towards you he takes, you take another step back, until your back meets that of a thick tree, the erratic rhythm of your heart building to a speed you thought otherwise impossible. 

“Tell me– where did you come from?” The wolf asks with an intimidating smile full of fang, “I recognize you from somewhere. Where was it I’ve smelled you before..?”

With nowhere to go, caged against the tree as the wolf closes in, all you can do is tremble as you watch him sniff the air, licking his lips as if tasting your scent. Most prey animals are generally the same, but there’s only one place he’s gotten the scent of sugar and cream from.. 

“Ah, I know,” he says suddenly, smile growing wider as he speaks, “That little cottage in the clearing– that’s it, isn’t it? That’s your home?” You swallow as you timidly nod, your nerves much too frayed to attempt to lie– you’ve never been a good liar anyways, your grandmother having raised you to be honest and good.

“You’re quite far from home, little red. But I can help you,” he offers, but you know better than to trust a wolf– they’re liars, all of them. “N-No, I.. I can get there by myself,” you say, finally finding your voice (shaky and timid though it may be.)

The man hums, seemingly amused by your brave display; he knows how scared you are, can quite literally taste it, but he has to commend you for trying, at least. “I’m not sure that’s true. Do you know which way home is?” 

“W-Well, uhm, I.. I– I, I don’t–” you stutter and fumble, and he chuckles, a smug look of “thought-so” clear on his face as he grins at you. His hand finds your cheek, and you look up at him with glassy, teary eyes, heart thumping out of control as he strokes your skin with his thumb.

He smiles sweetly, almost boyishly– a look that would be endearing if he wasn’t a wolf, and you weren’t afraid for your life. His clawed hand travels from your cheek to the top of your hood, and you quickly reach your hands up to clutch the fabric, keeping it fully tugged down in a vain attempt to continue to hide your identity.

The wolf laughs, clearly amused at your reaction. “Come now, little red, show me what sort of ears you’re hiding under there,” he coos and you shake your head, eyes squeezing shut and knuckles turning white as you desperately cling to your hood. 

At this point it probably no longer matters what you are exactly– no matter the answer, it’s clear the wolf before your eyes has plans for you that won’t go unfulfilled. But still, your survival instincts are in overdrive, and you can’t help but try your best to protect yourself, even if the endeavor proves to be worthless.

He tugs at your hood, not yet trying to fully pull it off, but rather playing with you– he could easily pull it off in one quick swipe, his claws could tear the fabric to ribbons, but he chooses to instead have his fun, watch you panic and struggle with the hood in your tiny hands. 

You look at him, unfallen tears blurring your vision; you don’t know what else to do. Grandmother always said if you found yourself cornered by wolves, your only option would be to run and pray for the best, but is that really the best you can do? And while you’re fast, wolves are faster– you’re sure the man would be able to catch up with you easily, especially given that the moon is his ally and he is likely extremely familiar with the deep woods.

Further still, he clearly stated he knows your home; even if you escape, he knows exactly where to go to find you. It fills you with dread, knowing that even if you do make it home, your grandmother would be there too; and you’d never forgive yourself if something bad happened to her because of you.

It’s an impossible choice you are being dealt– surrender to your fate now, or try your best to flee and risk dragging your precious grandmother down with you. But as he finally tugs down your hood, your white, snow-like lopped ears are fully exposed, and the wolf’s fangs shine as he gleefully smiles, you find yourself unconsciously making a choice– you run, as fast as your legs will carry you.

The cape gets caught and snags on stray branches from the myriad trees, tearing as you continue to run, adrenaline coursing through your veins, chest aching from the erratic, forcefully thumping of your heart, breath coming out quick and harsh. 

You barely make it 10 feet ahead through the trees before you’re crashing into something, the sudden impact causing you to let out an involuntary shout as you stumble back and fall ungracefully on your backside. Looking up, tears fall from your eyes when you realize it’s another wolf– shorter than the one who’d cornered you previously, but bulkier, with fur as dark as obsidian and a scent that matches it.

You suspect that he was there the entire time, and you just didn’t notice due to the panicked focus you held on getting away from the blue-silver wolf. “Where do you think you're going, little red?” the new wolf speaks, affirming your fears; he was there for the entire exchange, witness to the moniker you’d been given and now using it for himself.

“Oh Changbin, you caught her,” you hear the previous wolf say from somewhere behind you, leaves and twigs snapping beneath his feet as he approaches your spot on the ground. “Course,” the dark wolf evidently named Changbin speaks, kneeling down to look directly in your teary eyes, “I’d never let such a sweet little thing get away from us.” 

He reaches to the side of your body, where your twine basket has fallen from your arms and spilled its contents, all the berries and leaves you gathered now decorating the dirt. “Hmm, most of these are herbal. What a sweet girl you are, gathering until late into the night! Your grandmother must be proud of you, hmm?” Changbin smiles, looking up to the previous wolf once he stands again, your basket in his hands, “Don’t you think so, Chan-hyung?” 

The blue-silver wolf that the dark wolf calls Chan hums in agreement, once again calling you a “sweet thing.” Chan offers you a hand to help you stand, and you hesitate, swallowing as your eyes dart nervously between them. Their eyes on you make you nervous beyond just the predator-prey relationship you share; they’re both so impossibly ethereal in the light of the moon, and it makes you wonder if all wolves are such divine creatures. 

Maybe that’s why the rest of the forest view them reverently; beautiful, powerful, utterly intimidating in all aspects– they offer no choice from a rabbit such as yourself but submission simply from presence alone. “What’s your name, little red?” is Chan’s next question, and again, you find yourself unable to lie; against your own sense of self-preservation, you tell him your name.

He hums, repeating your name as if testing the way it falls from his tongue before diverting back to his nickname for you. “Let’s make a deal, little red,” the wolf says, still holding out his hand, waiting for you to take it. You finally do so cautiously, letting Chan help you to your feet, your legs still trembling but not yet buckling in the face of fear.

“W-What kind of deal?” you ask hesitantly, looking between the two wolves who smile and lick their lips, tongues ghosting over their fangs as they do. Beautiful, powerful, intimidating, your mind repeats.

“We want to play with you,” Chan says smoothly, the answer coming natural to him, “play with us for a little while, and then we’ll take you home. We promise.” You look at the other, younger wolf who nods, backing the sentiment of his superior.

Here you are, confronted in the deepest reaches of the forest by two wolves, and instead of devouring you they just want to “play”..? What does playing entail with them? You’re not sure how much you truly want to know, but the promise of home dangling in front of you makes you consider their offer despite how foolish it may be.

“You’re not.. tricking me, are you?” you ask, voice small, full of naivety and hope. “Of course not, sweetheart, we would never,” Changbin affirms, even going so far as to pick up the spilled contents of your basket and nestle them carefully back inside– a promise that by the time you’re done “playing”, you’ll be reunited with your sickly grandmother and able to care for her again.

“You just smell so sweet,” Chan says, his clawed fingers once again tracing over your cheek, “and we’ve always wanted to play with a sweet little bunny like you.” You nervously exhale the breath you unconsciously held when his hand traced your skin, searching his eyes for any sort of deceit.

If you’re being honest, you’re not entirely confident in your ability to tell if the wolves are lying to you– they’re masters of manipulation, after all; lying is second nature to them. Still, you want to trust them– trust that after you play with them for a little while, they’ll keep their promise of taking you home with your basket in your arms and everything you need to get through the winter.

“If you really promise, then.. I’ll play with you,” you answer, and the wolves both smile eagerly, with the elder wolf taking you in his arms, swiftly lifting you up off your feet. You squeak in surprise, instinctively clutching tightly to his fur coat, scared of being dropped. 

“Let’s go have some fun then,” Chan grins at you, making sure his hold on you is secure before he starts to move, “but not here. The floor here’s too dirty for you, isn’t it?” It’s a rhetorical question in which he expects no answer; instead he starts winding through the trees quickly, a destination clearly in mind.

You vaguely see the other wolf trailing behind before you squeeze your eyes shut, the blur of trees and wind whipping through your hair and past your ears making you dizzy as you’re carried further and further into the forest, likely towards its center. It takes you a few moments to open your eyes once you’ve realized you’re no longer moving at high speeds; Chan, who still has you in his arms, is now walking at a leisurely place through what you assume is his den.

The smell of other wolves is distinct but distant– evidently, the three of you are the only ones home for the night. It makes you breathe a small sigh of relief to know the rest of his pack is absent, attending to their own matters. It makes you feel safer, somehow; as if you’re not literally inside a wolf's den, at the mercy of whatever it is the two before you want with you. 

Eventually you are carried into a bedroom– one that smells more of Chan than the other wolf, which leads you to believe this is his room specifically. Changbin doesn’t seem to mind that the “playing” will take place here, a smile still clear on his face as he shuts the door behind himself, locking the door behind him as Chan sets you on his rather large bed. 

Your ears lie flat against your head, your nerves eating away at you as you fiddle with your hands. You watch them both carefully, taking note of where Changbin sets down your basket before he meets you and Chan at the bed.

The two of them standing over you makes you feel impossibly small, affirms how much better they are than you in every evolutionary aspect; speed, strength, size– they have it all. And you, one measly little rabbit with no significant qualities in comparison to them, who has no choice but to put her life in their hands if she wants to survive. How unfair. 

“Tell me, little red,” Chan starts as he sits next to you on his bed, one large hand enough to cup your entire face and direct your complete attention towards him, “are bunnies as slutty as they say?” Your eyes widen as you gulp in shock, having not expected such a forward, explicit question.

“Yeah, I’m curious,” Changbin follows up, sitting firmly on your other side, caging you in between the both of them, “they don’t say ‘fucking like rabbits’ for no reason, right? So what are you? A slut?” 

“I-I’m not!” you sputter out; it’s true that rabbits have a reputation for promiscuity but you live a rather sheltered life with your grandmother– you hardly even know other rabbits your age, much less male rabbits. That being said, you have been a little.. intense during your heats– but you rode those out with toys, not with the help of men.

And you don’t think there’s any shame in promiscuity, but that’s simply not the life you lead; you live modestly, simply taking care of your grandmother to the best of your ability. You barely even have time to masturbate these days– fucking is entirely out of the realm of possibility, as busy as you are. 

“But you’ve taken cock before?” Changbin asks from behind you rather shamelessly, and Chan looks at you expectantly, waiting for your answer with a cocked brow. “W-Well, yes, but–” you start and Chan is smiling again, another happy hum leaving his lips. ..Does your virginity status really matter here..?

Your eyes widen again when the reality of what you’ve agreed to clicks, and Chan chuckles at your delayed reaction. “You’re not very smart, are you, bunny? But that’s okay– you don’t need to be smart to have fun, isn’t that right?”

Changbin is the next to speak, his hot breath coming out against one of your lopped ears, his hands tracing your hips, “Mhm, sweet, dumb bunnies are cute, don’t you think? I bet they have lots of fun,”

It’s vaguely condescending, how they speak of you– sweet and dumb, as if your intelligence pales next to theirs, as if you are an object designed for their pleasure and no other. And somehow, it adds to the tremble in your legs, your breath hitching when Chan squeezes your cheeks between his fingers and thumb, forcing your mouth to open. 

You overtly whine, the wolf’s obscenely long tongue sliding into your mouth, exploring with another eager hum, his fangs catching on your lip with each kiss. As he kisses you, his fingers tug at the knot of your caped hood, leaving the task of discarding it to the other wolf once the knot is undone.

Goosebumps once again rise on your skin, with Changbin kissing and licking your neck after your cape has been tossed aside, deeply inhaling your scent as Chan continues to abuse your lips with his tongue and teeth. “Chan-hyung wasn’t kidding when he said you smell so sweet,” he whispers against your skin as he continues to trail his kisses down towards your shoulder, “it’s intoxicating.”

It’s shameless and almost embarrassing, the way arousal pools in your underwear despite all preconceived notions of how a rabbit should behave in the face of a predatory animal; but the more they kiss and lick, the more fear ebbs away, and becomes replaced by pleasure and yearning.

It’s been so long since you last felt the touch of someone else, having been stricken to solitary heats since becoming your grandmother’s carer. It almost humiliates you to admit how good their touch feels on your burning skin. 

They can quite literally feel your body release its tension, Changbin’s strong arms being the ones to hold you up as you melt into their touch, and the smell of your leaking arousal obviously doesn’t go undetected by either of their noses. Chan pulls away from your lips, a smirk visible on his features when you open your eyes to look at him. “What a dirty girl you are, excited already,” he says, another whine escaping you not only from his words, but from the feeling of Changbin’s teeth grazing your neck.

Chan, who could quite easily rip your dress from your body, instead opts to tug the fabric away much more carefully than you’d have anticipated– perhaps they really mean to return you home after this? Changbin, whose torso was substantially more covered than his elder’s, removes his top, leaving you to feel his bare, muscular chest against your now exposed back.

He wastes no time in latching back to your neck, licking, sucking, teeth grazing the skin, but not biting down– whether to spare you the shame of returning home with the clear mark of a predator, or because he doesn’t have permission from lead of the pack however, is unclear.

Your breasts, which you’ve always considered quite full despite your diminutive frame, easily fit within Chan’s large palms. Their ability to not only make you feel, but look small leaves you dizzy. You should be afraid of how they eclipse your frame with their size, but instead you find it exciting, your brain unraveling everything you’ve been taught about self-preservation in favor of experiencing utmost pleasure from two hulking wolves. 

Shame, it seems, has entirely left you, as slick leaks from you easily, drenching your underwear with each touch from their rough hands. Chan’s fingers play with your sensitive nipples, pulling and tugging until you’re writhing against Changbin’s body, who has his own hands tracing your hips and thighs, pressing lingering kisses to any patch of skin he can reach.

Chan lowers himself to take one of your hardened nipples into his mouth, tongue swirling around it as his hand continues to play with the other. Meanwhile, Changbin’s hand slinks around, brushing over your stomach before his hand dips between your legs, rubbing your heat over your soaked underwear. 

“Fuck, this messy for us already? You have to feel her, hyung, touch her pussy,” Changbin speaking such filthy words right next to your ear makes you shudder, a whimper leaving from deep in your throat when Chan obliges, his hand quick to replace the younger wolf’s.

Instead of touching you over your clothes however, he opts to completely tear them from your body, in stark contrast to how he treated your dress– you suppose the underwear is less important to remain intact, or maybe he just can’t help it after having gotten this far? 

“Oh, look at that Binnie, you’re right,” Chan grins as his fingers rub along your folds, spreading the slick around to create even more of a mess between your legs, “You’re such a dirty bunny underneath, hmm?”

Your face burns red, another whine escaping as shame finally returns to you, your hands reaching to cover your face. The pair of them coo, finding the display cute, whilst simultaneously making their cocks throb– what a treat, to have found a bunny that is both incredibly sweet and effortlessly sexy all at once. 

Chan pushes Changbin’s hands away from your body, and quickly turns you around. Your back is now against Chan, and he hooks your legs over his knees, spreading you open for the younger wolf to see. “Let’s give Binnie a look at your dripping pussy, don’t you think he deserves it after being so sweet to you?” More slick dribbles its way out of you, soaking the mattress beneath, a treat for Changbin’s eager eyes. 

Peeking between your fingers, you see his dark tail swishing behind him in delight, very clearly excited by the sight he’s met with. “Can I taste her, hyung? I want to so bad,” he asks, licking his lips, his eager, sparkling eyes not leaving you for even a second. “Mm, what do you think, little red? Should we let him have a taste?” Chan asks, and though you can’t see him anymore, you can practically hear the smile in his voice– playful and fun. 

You nod quickly, though Chan doesn’t seem content with that response– he tsks, once again grabbing your face and making you twist your neck to look at him. “You gotta use your words, sweetheart, you understand?” You start to simply nod again, but then quickly follow up with a small “yes”, to which the wolf smiles. He diverts your gaze back to Changbin, forcing you to hold the darker wolf’s gaze. “Good bunny, go ahead and tell him, then. Tell him you want him to eat you.” 

He can feel your face burn beneath his fingers, and though you can’t see it you’re sure there’s a smug smile gracing his perfect face as he waits for you to properly address Changbin. “I-I.. I want you to eat me, please,” you force yourself to mumble out, not missing the way Changbin’s cock throbs in his torn shorts. With one last lick of his lips, he’s diving between your thighs, looking up at you with a grin, “I’ll devour you, sweetheart.” 

You gasp when his tongue licks between your folds, a loud moan unintentionally falling from your lips as he eagerly laps away at you. You can’t help but squirm in Chan’s hold, his legs continuing to hold yours open and preventing them from closing around Changbin’s head.

Changbin moans as he licks and sucks on your clit, as if the act is more pleasurable for him than you; and eventually he alternates between giving his undivided attention to your clit, to sliding his tongue as deep into your hole as it’ll go, letting his nose bump your clit instead. 

Chan’s erection digs into your back, sometimes groaning when your squirming and twitching causes friction; but he’s not content to just sit behind you and watch– he wants to add to the fun. So his hands come up to the soft base of your ears, expecting it to be as erogenous of a zone for you as it is for them– and by your reaction, he can tell it is.

Your head falls back against him, and he can just catch a glimpse of your eyes rolling to the back of your skull, mouth hanging open as more moans and desperate whimpers leave you. “You getting close, sweet bunny? You wanna cum?” Chan asks, grinning when you once again quickly nod your head, a near endless stream of whimpery moans leaving you as your high approaches.

“Answer properly,” he reminds you, though his tone isn’t as strict as before– it’s almost playful, amused; he’s having fun. “W-Wanna cum, please, please let– hah– please let me cum,” you beg between harsh breaths, your entire body feeling like a wire on the verge of snapping.

“You heard her Bin, make her cum,” you hear Chan say as he becomes harsher with your ears, his calloused fingers now rubbing in rough circles. Your entire body jolts and convulses as the wire finally snaps, cry after cry of white pleasure spilling from your lips as you release on Changbin’s waiting tongue. He hums as he licks up all you offer him, not separating himself from his spot between your legs until he’s sure he’s got it all and you’re shuddering from the overstimulation. 

Changbin takes your face in his hands, pulling you just slightly away from Chan as he drags you into a kiss, his tongue shoving its way into your mouth. Your taste is all over his tongue, his mouth stealing away all the breath you’ve just barely managed to breathe into your lungs after the intensity of your orgasm. Your eyes are hazy when he pulls away, fogged over by lust and needs for the wolves you are sandwiched between. 

You just barely register Changbin looking past you to Chan, as if asking what to do next; though the exchange is silent, it seems like Changbin knows exactly where to go from here after receiving a certain look– have they done this before, you wonder?

Changbin scoots back just a bit before grabbing your legs, unhooking them from Chan’s knees before he’s pulling you down, closer to him. You gasp, your head falling straight onto Chan’s lap– well, more accurately to one of his thighs, before he’s closing his legs to act as a pillow for you. 

His cock, though still obscured by the fabric of his shorts, is right next to your face and impressive in its size, just as Changbin’s is. The two of them, in almost practiced unison, pull down their shorts, though the task is harder for Chan, who has your head resting on his lap. He still manages well enough, and you’re met with the sight of his hard, leaking cock right in front of your eyes, almost close enough to touch your cheek. 

You look up at Chan, who looks down to meet your gaze with a grin. “Hope you’re ready, bunny,” is all the warning you get before you’re flipped around to your front, another squeak of surprise as you’re manhandled to your knees, bent to where Changbin wants you, with your face still squarely in Chan’s lap.

One of Chan’s hands holds his cock at the base while the other reaches under your chin, lifting your face up to look directly at him. “Show me what you can do while you’re taking cock,” he instructs, your body trembling as you feel Changbin’s cock rub between your folds, slicking himself up. 

You whine when his cock presses against your hole, Changbin’s hands holding your hips up while Chan’s guide you to take his leaking cock into your mouth. You never imagined you’d be in a scenario where you’re taking in the cocks of two wolves at once, but you welcome the challenge.

Changbin enters you first, the stretch the most intense you’ve ever taken– you can’t help but gasp, the sting pricking up every inch of your body. Chan, thankfully, doesn’t force you to take him entirely into your mouth in this state– he lets you instead kiss and lick the tip, recognizing your need to adjust to a size you’re entirely unused to taking. 

They both praise you, though Changbin’s voice is significantly more strained and breathy as he continues his slow push inside your tight heat. Your nails dig into Chan’s thighs for support, and he doesn’t scold you for taking pauses in giving him attention, instead just watching as you squeeze your eyes shut and do your best to control your heavy breathing.

“Big stretch, isn’t it bun?” Chan ends up asking, which causes you to nod with teary eyes. “‘s so big,” you exhale, and Changbin whines from behind you– you wonder if he likes hearing how big he is? You can also hear the loud swishing of his tail, almost like a whip with how quick it snaps from side to side; it’s an undeniable truth that Changbin has been very, very excited to play with you the entire night.

Changbin hisses once he’s fully aside, while Chan takes this time to rub your back in a soothing gesture you wouldn’t typically expect from a wolf. You look up at him, eyes full of equal parts gratitude and lust, and he simply smiles, hunching his back down to meet your lips in a kiss. 

“Not fair, I wanna kiss her too–” Changbin protests from behind you and Chan scoffs when he pulls away from your lips. “Your dick is literally inside her Bin, shut the fuck up,” he says and to your surprise, you giggle– Changbin is kind of cute, isn’t he? At least, in a weird, wolfy sort of way.

“Are you laughing at me?” he asks, and you can almost hear the playful sort of pout in his voice. “S-Sorry, didn’t mean to,” you mumble, hoping you didn’t offend him. You take a cautious peek at him from over your shoulder, relieved to find that he’s actually smiling once he stops his dramatic pouting. Cute, you think again, but he doesn’t let you feel that way for long.

He pulls out to the tip and presses back inside in one, swift motion, causing a moan to erupt from you as your nails once again dig into Chan’s skin. “Won’t be laughing by the time I’m done with you, bunny,” Changbin says as he repeats the motion, and it takes everything in you to not utterly collapse onto Chan’s lap. 

He hits your spot every time, and you swear you can feel it all the way in your stomach– but Chan doesn’t let you stay idle in your pleasure for very long. “C’mon, sweet bunny, you know what to do,” he says, his hand under your chin directing you back to his own neglected length.

Unable to control yourself much after Changbin starts picking up his pace, you simply open your mouth and stick out your tongue, allowing Chan to enter your mouth however much he wishes to, completely handing your control to him. Changbin’s thrusts cause you to take more of Chan into your mouth than you’d initially take all at once, and it causes Chan to curse, his cock hitting the back of your throat within seconds of entering your mouth.

It doesn’t take long for your eyes to well with tears, and then for those tears to cascade down your cheeks, trying your best not to choke and gag as Changbin, voluntarily or otherwise, forces you to take more and more of Chan’s cock down your throat. You can hardly even breathe between the pleasure of Changbin drilling you from behind and Chan’s cock obstructing your primary airway, but it makes you dizzy in the best way possible.

You feel floaty, every cell in your body knowing nothing but intense pleasure. Chan strokes your head, sometimes petting your ears for that extra burst of pleasure that makes you clench tighter and causes Changbin to curse from behind you each and every time. 

Changbin, who is observing the way his cock looks sliding in and out of your tiny hole, gets a flash of inspiration when he looks at your cute, fluffy cottontail. Experimentally, he takes it into his hands, rubbing your tail between his fingers, and you keen, a shiver traveling throughout your entire body.

“Oh, you like that?” he asks, a bit smug as he continues to rub and gently tug at your tail, a loud whine escaping you that is muffled only by the cock lodged in your mouth. Chan can see your eyes rolling back, and decides to double the pleasure, not letting his hands leave your ears for even a second.

Your noises tumble freely now, quick and constant, rising in volume despite how muffled they are. It’s overwhelming being played with like this, but it feels so fucking good you’d never think to complain– you may become addicted to this sensation when it’s all said and done.

You’re so wet and warm, and now squeezing impossibly tight– Changbin isn’t going to last, and you can feel him throbbing and twitching as his pace begins to stutter. “Shit- fuck, ‘m gonna cum,” he whines, letting go of your hip with his other hand to reach under you and find your clit with his fingers. “Cum with me, pretty bunny, c’mon, I know you’re close too,” he says, quickly rubbing your clit between two of his fingers. 

Chan guides your head off of him, letting you suck in the breath you desperately need before he’s lifting you up just enough to meet his lips, capturing your moans with his mouth. You cum again with a succession of loud whimpers, your hands squeezing at Chan’s body desperately. “Oh my god, yes, ‘m cumming, c-cumming–” Changbin gasps, his cum shooting inside you in quick spurts, his bottom lip tucked between his sharp teeth as he groans. 

Chan lets you fall back to his lap, breathless and almost entirely spent, with Changbin breathing heavily behind you. He pulls out when he finally starts to soften, and you glance behind you the best you can to see him pouting at his elder again.

“You did that to make me jealous!” he accuses Chan in reference to kissing you, and the other wolf simply shrugs with a smirk. “I can kiss you too, Binnie,” you mumble, just loud enough for the two of them to hear. 

He whines again, and you realize it’s the first time you’re actually using one of their names. “You should’ve said my name while cumming, bunny,” he grunts as he scoops you up, pulling you back to his chest. “I don’t think she could’ve–” Chan starts to interject, laughing when Changbin glares at him, capturing your lips in a possessive kiss. 

They’re not actually fighting over you, but you find the dynamic fun– maybe that’s why they like to share; and you don’t think you’ve ever felt this desired before. Changbin’s tail is swishing again as he kisses you, and you giggle when you hear it– he’s like a puppy, you think; eager, and easily excitable, with a hint of jealousy that makes him fun to tease.

When he pulls away, he looks at Chan and then back at you, “Can you handle one more, sweetheart? Channie-hyung still needs a turn with you.” 

“I can take it, I’m a good bunny,” you affirm and they both grin, Chan reaching out to you and pulling you away from Changbin’s arms, into his own. “Such a good girl,” he hums as he lays you down on the mattress, taking his place between your legs while Changbin lays down next to you, rubbing his hand over your soft tummy.

Changbin’s cum is leaking steadily out of you, but Chan doesn’t seem to mind the mess it’s making on his mattress– you've made your own mess of his bed too, after all. He instead uses his fingers to gather up what has leaked and spread it over his own length, using it as lubrication for his own push inside of you.

Changbin presses kisses to your heated cheeks, licking away the tears that fall as Chan starts to push his cock inside you. Chan, who has been entirely composed up to this point, finally breaks just a bit– enough for his breath to start coming out harsher as you feel him twitch and throb inside you. 

His tail doesn’t swish as fast and erratically as Changbin’s but it is nonetheless moving happily side to side, a clear indicator that you’re actually affecting him, and he’s not all confidence and smug charisma. “Can I play with you while Channie-hyung fucks you, bunny?” Changbin asks, his hand creeping up to your chest, smiling when you quickly nod at him. 

Chan should scold you for not answering properly, but he’s focusing on his own pleasure now– taking your legs into his hands and holding them open while he fucks in and out of you. Changbin plays with your nipples, his hand taking turns between them while the other is used to keep himself propped up to watch.

“You’re making him feel good, can you tell?” he asks, and you look at Chan, who has sweat trailing down his brow and his plump bottom lip sucked between his teeth, face scrunched in pleasure. It makes butterflies erupt in your stomach, and you turn back to Changbin, a small pout on your lips.

“I-I wish I–” a deep breathy moan interrupts your dialogue as Chan hits your spot, but you continue, “I wish I could’ve s-seen you too.” You bet he looked absolutely divine, just as Chan does. Changbin groans, your sentiment evidently having an affect on him. 

“God, you’re the fucking sweetest, bunny,” he tells you, leaning forward to kiss you some more, his tongue once again shoving it’s way into your mouth. You tangle your fingers in Changbin’s curly hair as he kisses you, and he whines when you unintentionally tug during a particularly harsh thrust from Chan. 

Changbin simply watches your face in awe for a moment when you pull away to breathe and let yourself fall back against the mattress, finding you incredibly cute, beautiful even, even with your hair a mess and drenched in sweat. “B-Binnie, Channie, think ‘m gonna cum again–” you whine, eyes rolling back once more when it causes Chan’s thrusts to become harsher.

“Yeah? Gonna cum again, slutty bunny?” Changbin smiles, egging you on with his voice. You nod quickly, pleas starting to fall from your lips effortlessly, “I-I can, right? Been a good girl, a good bunny? Good bunnies can cum?”

They both smile, endless encouragement leaving them such as “yes pretty, go ahead and cum for us,” and “good bunny, good girl, cum sweetheat.” Changbin pulls you back to his lips as you cum, wanting to kiss you as you cum since he missed the chance earlier, and he eagerly swallows your noises, his fingers finding your clit once more to drag out your orgasm. 

Chan as well starts to become louder, his grunts becoming more successive with each thrust, not losing speed even as his hips start to lose their rhythm. He grabs your face and tears you away from Changbin, kissing you in a display that is either meant to make Changbin jealous again, or is simply for his own pleasure.

Or maybe it serves both purposes at once, because as Changbin whines in protest, you can feel Chan smirk against your lips before he’s losing himself again. His groans are muffled against you as his hips stutter once, twice more before he’s spilling inside you, ropes and ropes of cum filling you to the brim. 

You reach out to Changbin’s hand, squeezing it in a gesture that is meant to stop his jealousy, and he smiles at you, calling you a “sweet little thing” once more, giving you a peck to your forehead. Your eyes close, not opening even as Chan softens and slips out of you, exhaustion having clearly seeped into every molecule of your body.

“Poor thing’s tired,” you vaguely hear Changbin say as he wipes the sweat off your brow. Chan responds, though it’s hard to make out what he says as you unconsciously slip into sleep, unable to prevent it with how heavy your entire body has become, rest quickly claiming you. 

The sound of birds loudly chirping wakes you, and you blink slowly awake, eyes straining as you realize you’re in the sunlight. You sit up quickly, looking down at yourself and then your surroundings; you’re out of the forest proper, in the clearing where your home sits quaintly in the middle. You're dressed back in your prior clothing and with your hood over your ears– barring the underwear you lost. 

You’d think last night was a dream if it wasn’t for the fact that you could feel yourself bare underneath your dress; so they really upheld their promise and brought you back home..? You see your basket, sitting neatly in arm’s reach, a small note resting atop the berries and leaves you gathered yesterday that simply reads, “Last night was fun, wasn’t it, little red? Come play with us again sometime,” with a cutely drawn heart at the end, signed ‘Binnie and Channie.’

[kakashisacademia]

pairing: alpha Satoru Gojo x you | warnings: knotting, Gojo being a gentle at first…, marking, claiming, obsession

summary; in the middle of the mission you get your heat and now have to decide if Gojo will help you…

ೃ⁀➷ The Way You Burn

It started on a mission. Of course it did.

You’d been fine all morning. No warning signs, no telltale flush crawling up your neck. You’d taken your suppressants religiously, careful never to slip up. But maybe it was the exhaustion, or the residual cursed energy clinging to your skin. Maybe it was just bad luck.

Because now, kneeling behind the mission van in the forest with your back pressed to the cold metal, you were shaking. Your skin was too warm, your thighs slick and trembling. Your heat was coming, too fast and hard, no warning, no grace. No suppressants you could quickly take to dim the pain, the want and need.

And the worst part? He was here, Satoru Gojo. The strongest sorcerer alive. The strongest Alpha alive.

He’d been laughing five minutes ago, leaning against a tree and teasing Utahime about her driving. Now he was quiet, and that what made it worse. Because you wanted to hear him and yet you didn’t.

You tried to stay still. Tried to breathe through it. You could do this. You’d done it before. Alone. Hidden. You just had to hold it off until you could get back to your apartment and-

“Hey.”

His voice. Close.

You flinched. “Don’t come closer.”

“Too late,” Satoru said, softly now.

You didn’t have to look up. You could feel him. He was so close you could practically taste him on the air, sugar and ozone, power and heat. His energy curled around you like smoke. You quickly covered your nose with your hand, like it’d make it better.

“You shouldn’t be near me,” you whispered. “I’m not… I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.” He crouched beside you, his voice dipped low, almost quiet enough to miss. “I could smell it halfway through the exorcism.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, humiliation crawling over your skin hotter than the heat ever could.

“You didn’t say anything,” you murmured.

“You were trying so hard to hide it.” A pause.“Didn’t want to embarrass you.”

God, you wanted to disappear.

“Please, Satoru. I just need time. I’ll be fine.”

Another pause. A silence thick enough to choke on.

“Your scent is driving me crazy.” He growled so low you barely heard him.

But you did and your breath caught. He wasn’t teasing. Not in the way he usually did. Not with that smug, cocky grin, not with the dramatic flair he used on everyone else.

No, this was something deeper. Alpha-deep. So primal and raw you almost lose it.

When you finally looked at him, it nearly knocked the air from your lungs. His blindfold was still on, but his jaw was tight. His throat bobbed with a swallow. His fingers twitched where they rested on his knee.

“I can help you,” he said. “I can take care of it. Of you.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs. “No,” you said too quickly. “You don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t have to.” His voice turned sharp. “I want to.”

You stared and he stared back. Or maybe not stared, fixed. Like he could see through your soul, blindfold or not.

“I don’t want you to hurt,” he said. “And I don’t want anyone else touching you.”

The last part slipped out lower barely above a growl. Your body shivered. A traitor to your pride.

“Please,” you whispered, shaking now. “I can’t think straight. It’s starting to-”

“I know,” he said and then his voice dropped, so low and raw it made your knees go weak. “Let me knot you.”

You whimpered. Your body clenched down hard, desperate and aching.

“Satoru…”

“I’ll be gentle,” he murmured. “I’ll hold you through all of it. Fill you up until it stops hurting. You just have to let me.”

And god, you couldn’t say no. Not when your body was begging, sobbing, screaming for it.

You nodded. He moved fast. Not rushed, but urgent, like every second he wasn’t touching you was unbearable.

He pulled you into the van, shut the door, laid you down on the bench seats and stripped off your pants with one firm tug. His hands were shaking. His scent was overwhelming, sharp and dizzying, soaked with restraint.

He pushed your thighs apart and paused, just long enough to meet your eyes.

“Still okay?” he asked hoarsely.

You nodded barely.

Then he was on you and so was his mouth. Hot, wet and desperate, hungry and reverent. He licked and sucked and groaned like the taste of you was holy. Your thighs shook around his head, body wracked with need, slick pouring out of you like a flood.

You were begging before you realized it. His name, over and over, broken and high. “Satoru… Alpha, I- I can’t. Please. Please.”

When he finally pulled away, his lips were soaked and his chest heaved.

“You’re burning up,” he whispered. “I need to… I have to.”

His pants were already unbuckled. His cock slapped heavy against your thigh, flushed red, dripping. He was big, so big and ready for you.

“Let me inside,” he growled. “I need to feel you.”

You nodded frantically, and the second he pushed in, you both cried out. He was so big, so deep and full, and it still wasn’t enough.

He fucked you slow at first, whispering sweet things, stroking your sides, holding your trembling body. But as your slick soaked him, as your cries turned to sobs, his control fractured.

“Gonna knot you now,” he groaned strained. He pulled his blindfold down and let you see the raw hunger in his eyes. “Gonna fill you up. Stretch you open until you can’t feel anything else.”

You moaned desperately and delirious and begging for it. His rhythm stuttered, hips grinding in hard, and you felt the swell. The lock. The heat of him bursting inside you, followed by silence.

Just your broken breathing, and his body wrapped around you, shaking. You didn’t realize you were crying until he kissed your cheeks.

“Shhh,” he whispered. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

You whimpered. “It hurts, Satoru.”

“I know. I know, baby.” He cradled you, rocking you gently. “But it’ll pass. I’m here. You’re safe.”

Time slipped by in fragments. Your heat slowly ebbed, the ache softened for now. He held you through all of it.

When you were finally calm, when your fingers curled in his shirt and your thighs trembled with exhaustion, he leaned down, breath ghosting over your lips. “I meant what I said,” he whispered.

You blinked up at him dazed. “What?”

He pressed his forehead to yours. “Next time…” he murmured dangerously. “I’ll mark you. Make you mine.”

Your breath caught.

“Is that what you want?” he asked. “Because I swear to god, if you say yes, I’ll never let you go.”

Your heart nearly broke from how hard it beat and you whispered, “Yes.”

The door shut with a soft click, but it might as well be a gunshot. The air changed instantly. Your back pressed to the inside of it, your heart thudding, chest rising and falling in quick uneven breaths. You shouldn’t be here. You should be resting, recovering, keeping your distance from the strongest Alpha alive after what happened.

But Satoru was sitting on the edge of his bed, waiting for you, because he knew you’d be coming. Once his eyes landed on you his playful and usual teasing expression was gone. No lazy sprawl of a man who didn’t take anything seriously.

Slowly, even deliberately, he rose to his feet like a predator pulling itself up from its crouch. “I told you,” he says, voice low was deep enough to stir something in your belly. “Next time I wouldn’t let you walk away without a mark.”

Your breath stuttered. “Satoru.”

His head tilted slightly. “You came here,” he murmured and stepped forward. “Not me. You chose this. Chose me.”

The scent of his Alpha hit you like a drug. Sharp, heady, sweet and bitter and overwhelming. It coiled in your lungs and spread heat through your limbs, making your knees go weak. Your eyes turned glassy and you felt the warm slick wetting your pussy lips.

“I couldn’t stay away,” you whisper.

He was right in front of you now, towering, eyes glowing like ice over flame. He braced one hand against the door beside your head and leaned in. Not touching you, not yet, but so close you could feel the warmth radiating off his body.

“You’re still in heat.” His nose dragged along your neck slowly. “You’ve been suppressing it, but your body’s begging me. You smell like sex and surrender.”

A whimper left your lips and your thighs pressed together.

“I’m gonna ruin you,” he growled and then he kissed you brutally. He had been starving for this since he first smelled her. Tongue in your mouth, hands suddenly on your waist, hauling you into his chest.

“Bed,” he mutters against your lips. “Now.”

You stumbled backward, guided by his grip, and then you were thrown onto the mattress like you weighed nothing. He was on you in seconds between your legs, one hand fisting your shirt to rip it over your head.

“Satoru,” you gasped, but he was already pulling your bottoms off, eyes darkening as your slick scent hit him like a freight train.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans. “You’re soaked. All this for me?”

Your face burned. “Yes Alpha.”

His mouth crashed to the inside of your thigh, biting, sucking, scenting you. And then further up. His tongue slid through your folds, groaning like it’s his first taste of life as he sucked and swallowed your slick.

��Mine,” he panted against your cunt. “Fuck, mine. I don’t care what happens after this. You’re mine now.”

You’re already writhing, moaning, fingers tangled in his hair as he ate you out like a man possessed. One thick finger presses into you, then another, curling, pumping, stretching you out.

His voice drops to a guttural rasp. “Gonna put my knot in this pussy. Gonna knot you for life.”

Your body tensed and you let out desperate, needy whine.

“Mark you. Breed you. Fill you till there’s nothing left but my name in that sweet little brain.”

You sobbed. He pulled away just long enough to unbuckle his pants. His cock was already hard huge, flushed, leaking and the base thickened and swollen with his knot. Your mouth opened to say something, maybe to beg, maybe not, but all that came out was a desperate moan as he pushed into you with a force that knocked the air from your lungs.

“God,” he snarled, rutting into you with deep, hungry thrusts. “So fucking tight.”

Your legs wrapped around his hips instinctively, your body welcomed him deeper, deeper, until that thick swell of his knot was grinding against your entrance.

“You want it?” he growled. “Want me stuck inside you, Omega?”

“Y-yes, please Satoru.”

He grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head. “Say it.”

“Knot me,” you sobbed. “Please Alpha, need you… need your knot.”

That was all it took.

He slammed forward, hips locking against yours and you felt the stretch. The burn only an Alpha could give you, only Satoru could give you. The incredible fullness of him swelling, sealing you, claiming you.

You screamed in ecstasy and he groaned so deeply it made you shiver. His head dropped to your neck then and then he bit. Teeth sank into your scent gland, sharp and brutal and perfect, and the pain bloomed into something euphoric as the bond snapped into place. You felt it in your chest, your heart, your soul.

You were his, his Omega.

He held you through it, body trembling with the force of his orgasm as he emptied himself inside you with thick, hot, endless ropes of arousal. Your name was a mantra on his tongue, your body a temple he’s defiled and worshipped all at once.

When it was over, when you were trembling under him, skin flushed and lips parted, he kissed the mark on your neck and whispered against your skin, “Next time your Alpha makes you carry his pups.”

[bettystonewell]

TO YOU I BELONG: CHAPTER 3

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Summary: Dean isn't looking for a mate, and the last place he expects to meet his soulmate is while on a case. Fate ain't real. He still has free will, and saving you is just another part of the job. Except, monsters aren't the only things you need saving from... 18+ only MDNI

Chapter Word Count: 5k words

Chapter Warnings: canon typical violence, language, referenced physical abuse, referenced sexual assault, injuries to reader

A/N: The first two chapters I uploaded were partially rewritten from the original version I have elsewhere, but it’s not feasible for me to keep doing that, especially if I’m ever going to write new stuff; so from now on I’ll be uploading this story as is. Chapters 3 to 14 predate both, Another Notch On His Belt and Snickerdoodles & Special Sauce While I’d do some things differently, they’re all part of the journey. Enjoy! ✌️❤️

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

“Dick?” Sam gave a half-assed chuckle.

Dean’s eyes lit up mischievously. “Her mate.”

Oh, the mother fucking irony. He wasn’t just a dick, his name was Dick. Or Richard, to be more concise. Dean had passed over that insignificant detail and Ritchie, as you’d called him, to go with what he found to be the most fitting of the three.

While Ritchie suggested a plain loser, Richard sounded like a pompous jackass, which Dean figured didn’t fall far from the tree. But Dick? Dick narrated a scumbag he could work with.

He remembered Dick Roman and his crass grin all too well, and with his face in mind, Dean had run through all the satisfying things he wanted to do to your mate since the moment he’d found you in the park. Whatever manifested, or not, was for later Dean’s enjoyment, but everything his genius had concocted so far suited Dick to a tee.

Sammy, however, saw the bigger picture.

A tsk left his mouth. Followed by an eye roll and the shaking of his mop-hair through a downward glance. It was a wonder he could do both at the same time. “Don’t you think you should be worrying about her, not her ex?”

Dean’s head flicked over his shoulder to the door on the other side of the car park, where he presumed you were still fast asleep. The heel of his left boot even shifted backwards a fraction. All he had to do was fling his other leg towards the room, and your scent and stimulating curves would soon surround him again.

Was it possible for a heart to skip a beat? Because that action, with that very organ popping out of someone like Scooby Doo’s chest, sure described the way Dean felt at the mention of Dick’s finality in your life.

“I’m really getting soft,” he muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Dean ran his fingers through his hair. “She’s still sleeping. With any luck, I’ll be back before she wakes up.”

“Dean.”

“Don’t Dean me.”

Sam could argue, meddle, and question all he wanted. Dean wouldn’t sway from his plans, no matter how stupid his method was. “I ain’t letting him get away with it.”

“I’m not saying you should. Just take a minute to calm down and focus on her, not him.”

“What part of he raped her, don’t you understand?” He sighed and drew his thumb and forefinger across his eyes. His voice, while not the loudest he’d ever produced, had been enough to make even Dean anxious.

He cared little about anyone else in the vicinity, but as with every other motel they frequented, the walls were paper thin, and the door you were behind was a mere thirty yards away. Yes. His guilt fueled conscience had him going stir crazy.

Him needing to be long gone before you woke up wasn’t for your benefit. It was for his own sanity. Sam’s too.

“I understand you want revenge. But she still went back to him yesterday.”

“Because I let—”

“You didn’t do anything!” Sam snapped, then shook his head. “They’re bonded. Chances are she loves him. That won’t change overnight.”

“I know that.” Of course he did. Dean wasn’t that unattuned with the world around him, as people always suggested. He got social cues and had feelings like any other guy. He simply chose not to wear his deepest ones on his sleeve out of survival.

Everyone else could still suck it. Sam could too.

“So why are you so set on doing this right now? Do you really wanna risk pushing her away by beating up the alpha she cares about?”

“It ain’t about him or me.”

“Yeah.” Sam scoffed. “Like I said, revenge.”

“No. Alright? Just, no.” Dean’s arm swooped through the air, as if shoving Sam’s statement off an imaginary table.

This wasn’t about Dean seeking retribution, although he’d never deny there wasn’t a small piece of him that found the concept enticing.

Okay, a large slice.

He had to find some fun in his shitty existence, especially after being careful for so long.

Ever since Sam had lost Jess, they both had been. Aware there were plenty of other fuckers out there besides the likes of yellow eyes. Crowley, for starters, even Cas and the other angels, Roman, the Steins, Chuck. And not wanting to risk history repeating itself, they turned to suppressants.

Though it took a single instance of him going feral and a stern warning from Bobby and his own shotgun pointed at his extremities, for Dean to see sense and allow his rut to occur once a year.

“One cycle with one of them fake dolls ain’t gonna kill ya, idjit,” he had said. And while that was a fond memory of Dean’s now, it had scared the crap out of him.

So, “If I let him walk, she’s a target. With my claim or not,” he said.

Sam should’ve known that, but his eyes grew wide and a grin made them lift even higher. “Are you going to?”

“I just met her!” And that was still the scariest thing in all this.

He and you were soulmates. Fated to be. Chosen for each other by who even knew? Someone who didn’t know you and expected you both to do what? Commit to each other at the drop of a hat?

Dean couldn’t bring himself to think, let alone say the L word. He’d avoided it on purpose when Sam had mentioned you loving Dick, and that was plain dumb. It was four fucking letters. He wasn’t a child, though he had done some crazy, adultly stigmatised shit on your behalf.

Taking you back to the motel as he had and cleaning your wounds. Sleeping close by and letting you take his jacket to nest with. Ordinarily, these things were tame, but law enforcement would say otherwise if Dick decided to press charges against him even before he did what he planned to do.

It was way too much, not because of the illicit nature, but because it was too soon. Too easy to fall. Too easy to be trapped into something more, and yet, he’d been thriving on every second of it so far.

As usual, Sam knew it, too.

“You’re thinking about it,” he said. “You should ask her to come with us.”

But he didn’t respond with how Sam wanted him to. “Keep an eye on her, would ya?” He patted him on the shoulder, once to steady himself, the second to reassure. “Call me if anything happens.” And with that, he strode ‘round to Baby’s driver’s side and got in. It was now or never.

When he reached your street, Dean parked Baby around the corner. Close enough for a quick exit, but further away from your building to avoid arousing suspicions. Not that there was anyone around to question him or his motives.

Just as it had been during the night, the neighbourhood was quiet and restful. Still early enough on a Sunday for most people to be in bed.

Not him, of course. But regular people. Civilians.

Someone like you, included in his picture of suburbia and the apple pie life he’d always admired from a safe distance. It was a shame that the bubble had burst when he found you in the park.

It looked different in the daylight hours as he moved towards the entrance. All that he’d witnessed tainted the luscious leaves, turning the hues dim. It didn’t help that the clouds overhead were already bleak with grey.

They made the white rendered walls of your apartment block appear worse than his original critique of the place. Even though this was your home, it was a home you shared with Dick. A place Dean would find no comfort in.

He entered the building and made quick work of the steps, bounding up them two at a time, guided by his nose. And the letterbox he’d read at the bottom that had your surname on it.

As he honed in on your front door, his ears perked for any movement besides his own, but all was clear, and he was able to thump on the wood without interruption.

Once.

Twice.

But by the third time, his patience had worn thin, and he resorted to his usual methods.

He wrapped his fingers around the ivory grip of his 1911 and drew it out of his waistband, cocking it in readiness. The cool metal, the perfect fit as always, satisfied his hand and the hunter within.

Was the gun overkill? Eh. That was up to interpretation. Just as he still knew little about you, he knew less about Dick, besides the name and what he had done. The weapon was a precaution. A scare tactic at best.

And with that in mind, the sole of his boot raised and collided with the door of the small apartment, sounding a loud crunch as the wood gave way. It made his bow leg twang from the force, but damn, was the rush of adrenaline worth it.

Fuck! He was pumped.

Ready for a fight or a match of words, though the former was far more enticing. Revenge would be sweet, no matter what Sam said. Which was such a shame because his grand entrance hadn’t paid off.

Dick was nowhere in sight, and Dean begrudgingly returned his firearm to its usual resting place. The fucker must’ve been out looking for you.

As Dean stepped over the threshold and past the now broken door, your familiar scent hit his nostrils. That, and the musk he’d caught in your hair. It was the smell you’d find labelled pine or forest in a gas station’s air freshener selection. Pungent, overpowering and something he’d never allow Baby to be exposed to, let alone his own skin, anymore.

Of course, anything that belonged to Dick was repulsive. The recliner Dean stared at had to be his. What with the high back, built-in cup holders that were the perfect size for a cold one or a Dean-sized arm holding a scotch, and a remote in the other hand.

The chair would be awesome in the bunker. Maybe he could… no. No, no. He’d get himself a new one. Along with the flat screen, comfortable-looking three-seater sofa, and the fluffy blanket that had to be yours.

His feet carried him over to the item and brought it to his nose. It was yours alright. The touch of cinnamon he’d savoured during the night had soaked into the colourful fibres and worn thread, and he could just picture you curled under it, cosy and warm. You would look even better with the one he’d buy you, on his bed, nesting, with his pup safe inside your belly.

God, he was being delusional. Conceited too. You nesting on his bed? His pup? The second you discovered the true extent of his meaningless existence, you would change whatever mind you had about him. As you should.

This window into your personality he wandered through reminded him of what he knew, though, and your world was far different from his. Soulmate or no, it would be selfish of him to ask you to give this lifestyle up to be in his where monsters and gore were a constant.

As for pups. Little versions of him mixed with you? The idea took over his body with warm fuzzies, but it was a pipe dream fueled by his instinct to mate and breed.

He knew that.

‘What the hell, man? You don’t even want a family.’ Not like that, anyway.

Fuck no. He’d already dipped his toe in that pool and found it too cold. Being a dad wasn’t for him. Not with the target on his back. And this infinite loop of yearning, then backtracking? It certainly wasn’t, either.

Was this what they meant by a mid-life crisis?

Or maybe it was Dick’s pheromones making him go awol? With notes that belonged in a can of axe body spray Dean had used as a teen before he presented.

His snort was comical.

At least he could put whatever this was to good use. That and the rest of his self worth and a smidgen of hate. They were the perfect recipe for a strong uppercut and Dean was lucky Dick didn’t keep him waiting long.

The unmistakable jangle of keys looking for their lock was the first thing that alerted Dean to his presence.

“Who’re you?” was the second.

Dean spun around on his heels, oozing confidence with his cocksure grin. He didn’t feel the slightest bit intimidated as Dick puffed his chest out. Nor when his gaze travelled the length of his body, top to toe. And rather than answering the other alpha before him, he thought it best to show him how badly he’d fucked up.

Dean’s language was action, after all, and he was finally about to have some fun.

His right hand moved to hover behind his back as the other’s fingers locked around the edging of his shirt collar, pulling it down in slow motion for added effect. He was an expert in gaining attention, even if it was purposeful to piss someone off.

The haughty laugh Dick produced was better than any reaction he could’ve hoped for, and it urged him on.

“Somethin’ funny?” Dean said.

“Guess I was looking in the wrong places. She swore you didn’t want her.” Dick stepped forward, slinking further into the room, unaware of what Dean could achieve.

Mistake number one.

On the outside, Dean was relaxed, too. Both arms returned to his side, keeping his distance with his front positioned towards the other alpha.

Inside, Dick’s every movement was under his scrutiny. He wanted him to fuck up. To say or do something stupid. That way, Dean had probable cause. It would make whatever he ended up dishing out sit better on his conscience if he heard Dick admit it himself.

So Dean poked the bear. Outright asking him, “Did she say that while you were raping her?”

“I marked her as mine.”

Those words were Dick’s second mistake. He’d just given Dean the chopping block.

“And I suppose she didn’t ask you to stop when you hit her, huh? When you tried to scratch my initials out of her skin?” Dean’s voice remained void of all emotion, even as the anger bubbled in his gut. If he held a mirror to his soul, Dick’s face would have been its reflection.

“The little slut is obviously yours now. What do you want?”

Other than using your name, there was nothing Dick could’ve called you that wouldn’t have resulted in him handing over the axe and a third strike.

“I came here to give you a taste of your own medicine. But I don’t swing that way,” Dean said as he withdrew his gun and held it in the air. “Then I thought I’d use this.”

Dick’s whole body flinched. A Mexican wave of nerves twitching all over if you had watched closely, as Dean, of course, had. “You’re fucking crazy!”

Dean was still casual, his smirk devilish. “Oh buddy, you’ve got no idea. If we’d have met last night, well, let’s just say you wouldn’t be here.”

It was all talk. Dean would never go that extreme, not now that he’d had some time to think. He’d meant that bit about being calm. But he loved watching Dick squirm.

His face was hilarious. Dick’s not Dean’s. Dean looked down for business, whereas Dick may as well have been down on his knees. “You want me to apologise? Never see her again? Done. She’s all yours.”

“You think I was waiting for your permission or something? Nah. But I’d appreciate it if you come at me first.”

“Why?” Dick scowled.

“So I can claim self defence.”

To Dean’s exhilarated surprise, his jaunts worked and Dick lunged forward, colliding his fist into his cheek. The muscle below throbbed, and the broken skin stung, but the blood that swirled through his mouth was worth it.

Dick was too dumb to realise Dean was playing with him.

He took blow after blow, waiting for the moment Dick wore himself down to absolute exhaustion.

A punch to the gut. Another to his ribs. With each new strike, more of Dean’s stock appeared on the other alpha’s knuckles. If it weren’t for the colour, he may have confused the patterns and added chunky bits with strawberry jelly, seeds and all, smeared over his pasty white skin.

“Is this what you did to her?” Dean taunted. As much as the truth would anger him, he wanted to know. The more he heard, the easier beating Dick to a pulp would be.

But Dick was too busy concentrating on his workout. Huffing and puffing, with zero energy to answer, or blow the house down.

“That all you got?” Dean made him work a little harder. He’d started dodging, adding some defensive blocks amongst the steps he took backwards. His goal, further from the door, knowing full well that by bringing Dick into a different room, there would be no chance of any witnesses.

It proved more difficult, what with his centre of gravity slightly off because of the punch he’d allowed Dick to land on his right ear. But now in the kitchen, with counters he could lean and bounce off of, Dean decided it was time. His defence turned into offence, and in a matter of seconds, his fist had shaped its way into Dick’s face twice, the butt of his gun another, satisfying every part of his being.

Dean delivered more, all to the fleshiest parts of Dick. His stomach, his thighs, colliding with both boots, and his namesake, which met Dean’s very forceful left knee.

Both men winced. Both groaned, too. Only Dick was in pain, Dean out of mock sympathy.

His hand grabbed the back of Dick’s shirt next, lifting his body upright to send him flying, much like his front door. He landed head first into the lower cabinet with a thump and a flop onto the floor, where he received more of Dean’s wrath.

Looming over your mate, he used his boot to roll him to the side, further toeing his chin to make sure he had the bloodied face’s attention. “Being someone’s bitch ain’t so fun, huh, Dick?”

“Who wants breakfast?” Dean did his best to act casual and ignore the two pairs of eyes that followed him as he walked back into the room. His body ached all over.

He’d been gone a little under three hours now, but he knew that wasn’t what either of you had an issue with.

His brother’s gaze forever judged, while yours appeared concerned, possibly frightened, and neither surprised him, having received similar stares from strangers the entire way back to the motel. A swollen face and bloody knuckles just did that to people, and Dean accepted it.

“What happened?” Sam asked from behind his laptop. Though it should’ve been obvious “I thought—“

“Nothin’.” Dean wasn’t gonna talk about his confrontation with Dick. Not anytime soon, least of all when you were in the room. He needed to gauge your feelings on the matter first, then he’d play into them.

Would you be upset he’d beaten the guy into a pulp or were you concerned with his injuries at all? Because while the latter sure sounded appealing, it wouldn’t help his latest penchant towards you.

He moved to the table and unburdened his hands of everything he carried, starting one by one with the two trays of drinks he’d been balancing. “We got, ah, black, milk, mocha, red-eye, iced, breakfast tea? With, huh, milk? Hot chocolate, and,” he lifted a steaming cup to his chin and inspected the scrawl written on the lid, “the lady said this had Thai in it? I dunno. It’s popular with the locals.”

Impressed, Sam stood up and reached over to pick out a coffee Dean had labelled, only to be smacked away by an overtly aggressive hand.

“Ladies first.” Dean shot you a glance.

You were sitting on the bed he’d left you sleeping on, but had since been remade. As had his Sam’s, with his jacket folded at the end. “I also bought some sandwiches, donuts. Pie.” Both brows raised on that last part, and his grin, although stained with blood, was rather proud.

He had no idea what you liked, but he was confident you would find something to your tastes among this lot. He may have been intent on pushing you away, but he could still protect and act chivalrous towards his soulmate.

If you decided you wanted nothing, it wouldn’t go to waste because he was salivating over the aroma alone since he’d picked it all out. He could always have another coffee, too.

While he didn’t hesitate to pull up a chair and slump into it, he did second guess himself when he addressed you. “C’mon Omega. You must be hungry.”

The term slipped off his tongue with ease, and one thing he was suddenly certain about was his sack being empty. He’d dropped his balls somewhere between dealing with Dick and now, and this uncertainty and stilted behaviour needed to stop.

Even after seeing your apartment, being surrounded by your things and having his inadequacies resurface again. He wasn’t what you needed in your life, and he had to remind himself of that, though it drove him crazy.

This constant mystification around you would surely end with your reflection in Baby’s rearview once more, wouldn’t it?

Yes. It had to because he was Dean frigging Winchester. Never confused by anyone, male or female.

But you and your hesitant steps, observing him as you made your way to join them, were an enigma. Beautiful even with your still stiff gait and bruising on your face and neck that had darkened again. The two of you could almost be a matching pair. Dick sure favoured a hook.

“What’ll you have?” he asked as you sat down, eyes focused in and around his.

The plastic against your pelvis must’ve been uncomfortable. Dean paid particular attention to the way your expression tightened, then relaxed as your body did.

“Coffee? Tea?” He ignored his anguish, pointing to each cup as he listed them, waiting for your response, then passing you your selection when you did.

Your grip was gentle. Your bites and movements were just as soft as how you held your drink when you ate, and through Dean’s constant glimpsing, he found himself less and less interested in his own food.

“You sleep alright?” he said, and your lip twitched into a soft smile when you nodded. Your continued stare had him pulling at his collar.

Sam watched the entire exchange with interest. Here was Dean, someone so hellbent on never entering another relationship after whatever it was he’d had with Lisa and Ben, now infatuated with you. Sure you were soulmates, but it was simple and refreshing.

He saw the way Dean grappled with his instincts, trying to pretend you were no one special, even though all these sweet gestures showed otherwise. The food, the coffee, the bag he’d packed with as many things of yours as he could after leaving your apartment.

You may not have realised what the duffle below your feet was just yet, but Sam sure did. The scent of your belongings oozed off of it, blending with his brother’s own.

Cinnamon, apple, a touch of vanilla, and other spices that collected under those which Dean surrounded himself with. It fit that his palate, in its purest form, would work so well with that of his soulmates.

Almost the same as Sam and Jess’ own mix…

Sam understood Dean’s reluctance, not just with you, but with everyone. He appreciated that his own misery had shielded Dean from heartbreak so far. He wished the transformation he saw in his brother would open himself up more to find what he had lost.

Until then, though, Dean was going to receive a world of shit when they were alone again. Sam owed him for the morning’s wake up call. No doubt for other instances he still didn’t know about, too.

The clothes Dean had picked for you from your wardrobe before leaving the apartment, while fitting as they should, left him disappointed. As crazy as he knew the notion was, he enjoyed seeing you wearing his things, even though temporarily. There was something about the way his shirt flowed over your breasts and hips.

It had engulfed your figure. How it hung below your rear, revealing your thighs when you stretched, and the edging of what he presumed to be a cute pair of lacy panties hugging the curve of that sweet ass he’d pictured as he took care of himself.

Yup. He was going to hell. Again.

He’d been over this and it couldn’t happen.

‘She was just fucking assaulted, man,’ his brain rerouted. ‘Not even a day ago. She doesn’t need this shit from anyone, least of all her soulmate. Or her alpha.’

There it was, that primal side of him coming out. It had been there at your apartment too, but it, like the more sane part of him, was more interested in screwing with Dick at the time.

Now that it was all over, he needed to do his utmost best to reel it in. There was still one last thing that had to be addressed, and neither lusting nor pussyfooting around was going to get it done.

He had to cut ties with you. He had to. His life wasn’t for you, not after seeing the life you could have, with or without Dick. So as he helped you clean up from breakfast, sorting out scraps from leftovers and recycling from trash, he decided there was no time like the present. The sooner the better.

Dammit. He had to do this, now, and he listened to make sure the shower was still on and Sam, in it. Then, running his fingers over his hair, flinging each bristle forward, he cleared his throat.

“So, now that our case is over, me and Sammy will head home to Kansas.” He was smooth. In control, and confident in his delivery. It showed a little too well.

“Right,” you whispered. Your head, delaying by a second, gave a quick shake.

Was that pulling your teeth over your lip nerves? Disappointment?

Scrap that part about confidence. There was that powerful beat in his heart again. The one that felt like it had escaped his chest, pumping back and forth for the world to see.

“I ah. The good news is he won’t bother you anymore.”

Your body froze on the spot. “You—”

There was no need for you to say anything further because he could tell by your horrified expression alone you thought the worst.

“No. No, no. I mean, he looks worse than I do.” He chuckled awkwardly. “But I didn’t murder the guy. As much as I wanted to.”

He shouldn’t have said that.

“I might’ve hustled him a little first, but he’s gonna recover. Just like you will.” He paused and raised himself, pulling his muscles taut. He’d forgotten all about the medicated cream he’d bought you.

His hands touched his hips, then his thighs, searching his pockets, though he didn’t know why. The tube, still in its box, wouldn’t fit anywhere on his person.

He scanned the table and the ground below it before reaching down to pick up the small paper bag. “I got ya this at the pharmacy near the diner. They said it’d help with the infection. Might have to borrow some myself before we leave.” He grinned.

But you didn’t return it. Your brow furrowed as he stepped closer to hand it to you, fingers playing with the package the second they touched. “What’re you trying to say, Dean?” you said, and damn. Using his name stung.

You really were intuitive. He should’ve bargained for it. And what choice did he have but to rip the bandaid off? “Look. What I said about wanting you was true. But my life is dangerous, and I can’t bring anyone into it. Especially you.”

Though his words were every bit rejecting, the way your chest rose below the outline of his chin and your lashes batting against your cheek had him taken, and his concentration proved difficult to maintain.

There was a touch of spice in the air that hadn’t been there before. Something familiar, yet he couldn’t quite put his finger on where it came from. It was addicting, and while he knew it was wrong to let it engulf his senses, he didn’t stop himself.

“So,” he shuddered, using the slight tremor as a final plight to clear his head, “if there’s some place you can go, family or friends, I’m happy to take you there. Anywhere at all. I think it’s best you do that, and you know, forget about Ritchie, and—“

“And you.” Your lips were so plump and enticing. His eyes could only focus’s on their shine, moving under the light as you spoke.

“Yeah,” he whispered, his stomach pulling a one-eighty.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?”

Nope. But what could he do? Your safety was far more important than his need to have you around. His life wasn’t for you. Hell, it wasn’t a life for anyone, and when he stuttered and your mouth pursed in an understanding smile, he was further reminded that what he was doing was right.

“It’s okay. I understand,” you said as your hand came up to touch his and your face lifted to graze a simple peck on the other.

The softness he felt against his skin covered his body in a blanket of goosebumps, igniting a fire within that made his blood thrum, and his ears pop and pulse along with his gut, churning once again. And before you could retract, before you could step away or even turn, his arm had wrapped around your waist, tight, and he commandeered a kiss of his own.

Was he stupid? Damn straight he was, but the genius that lay dormant would pull him through. His inner alpha would always be there to protect his omega. He just needed to figure out how.

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

How awesome was that gif at the top? Gave me goosebumps when I was going back and forth, formatting.

I wish I could say that’s the last we’ll see of Dick, but unfortunately, memories live on, and we’ll delve into them more in the future. Did Dean beat him up enough, though? I’ve killed some characters off in the past, not going to lie, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it with him.

We have a cyclone causing trouble here - yay - and my kids are already driving me insane. If you don’t hear from me, it’s because I’ve either lost power/internet, or I’m huddled in the foetal position of my living room, with my wine stash, gone… That’s far more likely. Enjoy your weekend wherever you are in the world!

Chapter 4: Familiarising - 14/03

Dean rolled off to the side, bringing you with him to rest your head against his chest instead. He pulled the covers with you to drape them across your shoulder. Close and cosy, but away from his clear arousal, choosing it best to leave the pressure in his pants over putting it on you.

“I, ah, just need a sec,” he breathed through the grin plastered over his face.

If only you’d give him one.

Your hand patted his sternum, but your leg wrapped over his, bringing your knee close to his semi.

“Not that I’m complaining, sweetheart, but you’re making it hard for me here.”

“Pun intended?” You asked, earning yourself a light smack on your rear.

@globetrotter28 @ambiguous-avery @arcannaa @jollyhunter @zepskies

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@smut02

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[softlypaintedseafoam]

one piece fic recs

because everyone else has fun listing theirs, so i wanna list the fics that changed my brain chemistry. there's some gen fics, ship fics, au fics and i'll be sure to included the ratings for each as well. beware anyone not fully caught up or at certain points in the story, there will be spoilers (but like... we should definitely talk about these recs together...)

gen

light up, light up by taizi (t)

“I have a condition,” Sabo says, sounding, to his own ears, disconcertingly like his father when his father is doing business. It might be that, more than anything, that causes Outlook to consider him thoughtfully. “I’m listening,” the man says. 

where ace is the brother that 'dies' after the gray terminal incident and sabo and luffy are left behind

and i'd know your face if i was drunk and blind and dead by solena2 (t)

Sometimes, Sabo wonders about who he used to be. He gets the chance to find out when he bumps into Fire-Fist Ace at a bar.

TAT the fix-it fic of all time where the brothers of all time get a chance to be with each other once again. this is canon, oda told me so himself

a tall tree, with roots like a newborn by chali (t)

A closer look at the immediate aftermath of Whole Cake Island, because Sanji went through some shit and it was not nearly addressed enough.

a fic where the sasuke sanji retrieval squad learn the full extent of the things sanji experienced in wci. they would have truly crashed out if they knew what all went on

rebase and rebuild by sinelanguage (t)

Sanji’s hands are blown off on Whole Cake Island. Franky builds him prosthetics, but Sanji has a much harder time adjusting to them than anyone expects.

a fic where reiju didn't swap out the cuffs and now sanji has to deal with the consequences featuring phone calls with zeff! as if that makes everything any less angstier

a mercy out of me by merikai (g)

“These,” Sanji replied dully, raising his arms. “Handcuffs.” “Handcuffs,” Luffy repeated.

luffy and sanji having a bonding moment post-wci's events

and then what by grayimperia (t)

Zoro becomes the world’s greatest swordsman and is directionless in more ways than one.

ft frobin post-canon fic where, with his lifelong goal finally achieved, zoro isn't sure what to do with his life next

lionheart by cyan96

Wherein thirteen year old Trafalgar Law and twenty-six year old Rocinante tumble sideways through time-space via the blue desperation of a newly eaten devil fruit, from Minion island to a future distant. Right, unwittingly, onto the submarine deck of a another Law shortly after Doflamingo’s fall.

the rosinante lives fic i was not expecting to come across but the power of dope fanart dropped it in my lap

zosopp

take care of you by strawberrycamel (t)

In which Zoro and Usopp can’t see what’s in front of them.

a zou fic where zoro realizes he can totally use minkship as an exploit to cuddle his crush whenever he wants and usopp panics about it

frobin

how to dance with you by grayimperia (g)

When you meet a girl as super as Nico Robin, you learn to make sacrifices. Or, Franky learns to waltz.

ft. lusan wanting to waltz with robin whenever the opportunity again arises, franky asks sanji to teach him how to waltz. of course, not everything goes to plant

between thoughts and steel by inked_spirits (g)

Nights on the Sunny are long when sleep refuses to come. Robin needs to deal with her memories, Franky gets a chance to show her that some wounds are easier to bear when carried together. Night talks under the starry sky are a perfect cure for insomnia.

post-enies lobby fic centered around franky and robin after the first date of all time

lawzo

seeing a lab about a doc by rollingchibi (e)

This is all Bepo's fault.

ft. lusan college au a/b/o fic with alpha professor law and his omega TA zoro. there are shenanigans and smut, what else does one need?

stages of affection by rollingchibi (e)

Looking at himself in the mirror, at the haunted skeleton that looks back at him, he knows—knows as easily as he knows how to run a wire into someone's heart to remove a blood clot, knows as easily as he knows the list of side effects for a pacemaker, knows as easily as how much of a headache Dr. Crocus gives him by simply breathing near him—that things need to change, that he needs to change.

ft. lusan, usokaya modern au. sugar daddy lawzo fic, send tweet. also, plenty of straw hat misunderstandings and the author also found a way to incorporate luffy and zoro's post-timeskip scars into the story... but at what cost

needling away by rollingchibi (t)

"Sorry—you here for an appointment?" Unfortunately. He should've just gone with Bepo to get coffee.

ft lusan, josaku, past zosan surgeon law wants to get his tattoos touched up... sadly he walks in on the tattoo artists' homies going off about how it's fucked his best friend is dating his ex

luzo

these small hours by maximumqueer

"‘Grief’ is a word Zoro never he thought would associate with his captain, and he feels a bit stupid for that. Of course Luffy would grieve Ace, would probably never stop grieving him. Zoro sure as hell hasn’t stopped grieving Kuina, the promise he made her held tightly between his teeth with every fight, a small empty space in his heart reserved for her."

ft namivivi remember that episode post-wano where the straw hats were worried about vivi and zoro brought up ace? yeah nami gives him a STRONG talking to about the insensitivity of that statement

deadhouse by yamatossenpai (m)

"And then Zoro saw it. The mob rushed through the streets like floodwater, dividing and conquering. The men and women were frenzied; their mouths hung open, their eyes wide and bulging. They tore at each other, or rather, the mob attacked anyone who screamed. The attackers were ravenous, barely human. “If you don’t wanna die,” Luffy whispered, “then we should run.”"

ft frobin, usonami modern zombie au no one asks for but we all secretly think about our faves being in anyway. definitely mind the tags on this one

zosan

warning signs by olgaphobia (t)

*unrequited zosan, endgame lusan zoro's perspective fic where his inability to be vulnerable and refusal to be taken care of leads to him fumbling sanji contrast to luffy who has been open about his feelings from day 1. takes an interesting spin on zoro's absence in wci. imagine fumbling sanji when he was actually romantically interested in you at one point in the story, i would cry

lusan

warning signs by olgaphobia (t)

The cook left, but you weren't the one to bring him back.

ft unrequited zosan, end game lusan zoro's perspective fic where his inability to be vulnerable and refusal to be taken care of leads to him fumbling sanji contrast to luffy who has been open about his feelings from day 1. takes an interesting spin on zoro's absence in wci. imagine fumbling sanji when he was actually romantically interested in you at one point in the story, i would cry

insatiable by codhya (g)

But then Luffy says, join my pirate crew. One look at that blinding smile and those wide, unfathomable eyes made Sanji hear the words for what they were. Be greedy with me. And Sanji, he finds that he is starving.

sanji introspection piece on being selfish and wanting

crack baby by sanjilockhart (t)

Luffy and Sanji's developing relationship and how Sanji felt when Luffy, quite literally, crashed into his life.

pre-timeskip baratie arc fic centered around sanji's perspective of the luffy recruitment process, aka sanji introspection piece on the horrors of being perceived and wanted

anchor by trixree (t)

It is said that dreams are shared between soulmates. Luckily, the Vinsmoke children do not dream. (Except, of course, for the failure.)

soulmate au where soulmates share dreams with moments that truly hit one in the feels with this one

easy as anything, simple as that by trixree (t)

“Luffy? What’s the matter?” “We’re gonna’ have a wedding,” he says incomprehensibly. Which—no. Absolutely not. Haven’t they had enough of weddings, lately? Nami's certainly had enough for a lifetime, thanks. “What are you talking about? What wedding?” she demands as coherently as she can while running on only two-and-a-half hours of sleep. “Mine and Sanji’s,” Luffy declares.

post-wci where hours after getting themselves to safety, luffy and sanji decide to have an impromptu wedding

a fine looking high horse by grayimperia (t)

The epic duel between first mate and captain’s boyfriend, involving pettiness, throw pillows, and a general inability to walk in another’s shoes.

zoro perspective fic where it turns out the new cook is also luffy's boyfriend. as it also turns out, zoro discovers he's not good at sharing

we both unsettled (shadow preachers) by senjuside (m)

Relationships are not easy. Luffy and Sanji are still learning how to sail thought their prides and fears, even after all those years.

post-canon married lusan fic where sanji deals with the drawbacks of a husband who still remains at sea even after retirement

love is a full stomach by b3rry_jam (nr)

Luffy doesn’t understand romance, but he knows he feels happiest when he’s with Sanji.

sweet and pure lusan fluff, 11/10

and if you still want me... by fizzyren (g)

Sanji gets a lil angsty in his head about Luffy after Whole Cake.

luffy being possessive and clingy post-wci my beloved

and i know where to look by mr_crowsnest

“Luffy, I’m cooking—” “It’ll wait!” Luffy interrupted, already pulling Sanji into the middle of the kitchen. “This is important!” Sanji stumbled, his protest dying on his lips as Luffy’s hands found his, their fingers intertwining with surprising care. Luffy’s grin was infectious, his laughter bright and unrestrained, and Sanji couldn’t bring himself to push him away.

fluff fic where luffy and sanji dance in the kitchen

[lotusloong]

Was rewatching a documentary on long tailed macaques (which I tend to imagine Wukong is based on), and they show how the alpha male will make this rough throaty sound that means it's time for everyone in the troop to climb up a sleeping tree and turn in for the night. Then I started thinking of Wukong (as I always do) and then…*gestures vaguely*

Can be any Wukong really, I didn’t have a specific one in mind when writing.

The fire crackles and pops in front of you, warming your feet and hands as you unwind from a long day. The trek over the mountain range is a draining one that leaves your feet sore and your lungs burning.

Bai Long Ma is settled down under the shady branches of a tree, his body curled protectively around Tang Monk even as he succumbs to sleep. The deep, even motion of his breathing doesn’t seem to bother Tang Sanzang, his eyes closed and back straight as he counts prayers on his mala. Wujing is propped up against the group's luggage, book in hand as he idly flips the pages. Bajie is curled up not far from the ogre, snoring away without a care in the world, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. You glance over your left shoulder, then your right, searching for the last member of your group. Where could he have-?

A rough chirping noise sounds from above, and you look up to see Wukong crouching in the tree above you, his tail curled around the branch he sits on.

“Oh, there you are-” You begin, only for him to interrupt you with a new sound from his throat. It’s different than the chirps he normally gives when he sees you or when going about the day. It’s a rougher sound, one that starts and ends in his throat, almost like a growl but…doesn’t sound aggressive. You raise an eyebrow, watching him carefully.

Your relationship had only recently changed, longing stares and subtle touches finally recognized and acknowledged. It was still very new territory for you both, and some hidden barriers between culture and language were being tested and explored. In the months you two have been traveling together, he’s never made this sound at you before.

“Everything okay Wukong?” You ask, slowly rising to your feet as you watch him. He mirrors your movements, hopping down from the tree and standing before you, his tail moving in a slow, lazy arc that you’ve come to recognize as relaxed but intent. When Wukong wants something done, he intends for it to be done, even if he has to step in and do it himself.

You just have no idea what he wants you to do.

He doesn’t respond with words, only making that throaty noise again, his eyes darting up and down your body as if to say ‘what are you waiting for?’. You take a guess and step closer, grabbing his hand and smiling at him. Wukong blinks, heat rising to his cheeks that you can see despite the fur. He huffs a quick sigh, rolling his shoulders and turning away from you, tugging your hand behind him. You follow dutifully, trusting him with your safety.

He leads you only a short distance away from camp, the fire still clearly visible between the trees, but with a little more privacy. He stops suddenly at the base of a large camphor tree, and at the base, nestled among the roots is a sleeping spot already prepared. Your bedroll is even here already, propped up with leaves underneath to act as a cushy place to sleep for the night. Wukong undoes his tiger sash from his waist and hangs it over a low hanging branch before settling down on his own bedroll, tucked in right next to yours.

Charmed by the sight, you settle down next to him without complaint. The spot he picked has thick roots on either side to keep any chill in the air at bay, and you know you can rest easy that your companions are safe just a few feet away from you. You give a happy wiggle into your monkey’s warm side, pleased when he wraps his arm around your shoulders. When he tugs you to lay down beside him, you do so without complaint.

You’re face to face with him now, his intense eyes studying you. One of his hands comes up and brushes against your cheek, fingers tracing the curve down to your throat and over the hill of your shoulder, down your arm until his hand reaches yours. You tangle your fingers together, enjoying the warmth of his calloused palm against yours.

“Is this all you wanted? Some alone time?” You whisper to him, smiling in amusement at his silly ways.

He blinks at you for a moment, as if confused. Then his expression changes to one of realization, and he rolls his eyes up as he gives a defeated sigh.

“I haven’t taught you what the sound means yet, have I?” The hand not tangled with yours comes up to pinch the bridge of his nose, and you giggle at his exasperation.

“No, no I don’t think you did~” You coo. “I was so confused, I didn’t know what you wanted!” 

He joins in on your chuckling, pressing his forehead closer to yours and sharing your breath. You move your legs closer to his, happy when he returns the motion and slots his thigh in between yours. You can feel his opposable toes flexing against your calf muscles and see his tail curl into a comfortable position behind him. He repeats the sound from earlier, the rough not-quite-a-growl noise.

“That sound means bedtime.” He starts. “Monkeys in charge of a family will give that call when it’s time for everyone to climb into the safety of a tree for sleep. When I was…” He pauses for a moment, his eyes looking distant and sad. It’s an expression you’ve seen before, one he always gets when thinking of Mount Huaguo. You press a soft kiss to his lips to bring him back to you in the present.

It works.

“...Back home, when it was time for bed I would give that call. All the monkeys on the mountain, yaoguai or not, would listen. They would climb into Water Curtain Cave and find some place to settle down with friends and family. Regular monkeys preferred the giant trees in the cave, the yaoguais would go into our giant stone palace…” A gentle smile spread across his muzzle, one of his canines peeking out from under his upper lip.

“Not that I had strict rules about sleeping places. Some regular monkeys liked sleeping on the beds and some yaoguais never grew out of the habit of sleeping in the trees. As long as everyone was inside the safety of the cave and sleeping together, that's all that mattered to me.” He gives a small shrug, wrapping his free arm tight around your waist and pulling you impossibly closer to him. His hand still holding yours moved up so he could press a gentle kiss against the back of yours, his lips soft and warm where they touched you.

“Well,” You breathed, chest feeling heavy with emotion. It always rocked you to your core when he would be vulnerable like this with you, letting you see parts of him no one else had. Some would argue such tenderness didn’t exist in the Great Sage, but you knew better. “I’ll be sure to remember it now. Bedtime and bedtime cuddles for my sweet monkey when he calls for it~”

His face immediately burned at your words, his cheeks bright pink and his eyes looking down at your pressed together bodies instead of your own smiling face.

“S-sure. Just don’t…uhg-come here-!” He pulled your face closer, burying your head in the crook of his neck as he curled his warm body around you. Your giggles were muffled against the soft fabric of his clothes, his smell surrounding you on all sides.

Within minutes you were asleep.

[stevieschrodinger]

Eddie runs the second he gets a chance, face still wet with tears. The branches whip him and the brambles scratch him, but he doesn't stop. He runs from the trailer, from the strange man there who says he's Eddie's uncle.

Eddie doesn't like how he can feel the breeze on his shorn hair, misses the way it used to tickle his ears and cheeks; it should be flowing behind him as he runs. It's not his fault he shifted into an Alpha wolf; he'd screamed and screamed when they'd shaved his head, but his father could not have him nearby. He's a threat to the pack now. To the leadership. He calls everything into question; Eddie had to go. He had to go far away.

He finally slows, scenting the air. Something good here. Something nice. Something that calls to Eddie's wolf. Something that smells of awesome and amazing and forever. The scent trails through the trees, and Eddie follows it to where the scent grows thick, and falls through the trees onto a perfect lawn.

Steve hates the stubble on his head. Rubs it again. Can feel his exposed scalp burning in the sunshine. He doesn't understand; it's not his fault he hasn't shifted. It's not his fault he was born without the wolf. He's been shaved to shame him, and he swears from that moment on that when his hair grows back he's going to take such good care of it. He will show them, wolf or no wolf.

It's just not fair, Steve wipes his tears and snotty nose, and tries not to think about the look on his father's face, "Steven you have disgraced the bloodline of our pack."

The way he'd turned his back on Steve, left him alone. He had no wolf to comfort him. Steve sniffles again, then startles when a boy comes out of the tree line.

His head is shaved, just like Steve's. He's got tear tracks on his face; just like Steve.

"Hello," the boy tells him, approaching like he hasn't just walked onto private property, "we're going to be best friends."

Steve nods, he could use a friend right now, and takes the boys hand.

Eddie comes back. He promises he will and he does. He comes back every day for weeks over the summer. They watch films and build forts and climb trees and play in the pool and explore the woods and lie on the lawn in the sunshine and Eddie never, ever asks why Steve's been left alone in this big house, even though Steve's only seven years old.

It's the end of the summer when they get caught, and Richard Harrington gets Eddie by the scruff and snarls something about "the Munson runt."

Steve screams, tries to follow them, doesn't understand what's happening or why Eddie's being taken away.

Eddie snarls back at Richard Harrington, even as he hangs from his fist, and Steve's never seen anyone do that, not ever, not anyone in their pack would dare challenge the alpha.

Steve, suddenly realises that Eddie must have a wolf.

It's too late.

Steve has the best hair in all Hawkins. They don't call him Steve 'the hair' Harrington for nothing. He taps the table, bored. Patsy is twizzling her hair and making eyes at him and he wants to fast forward and get through to boring date and to the mediocre fuck so that he can kick this girl out and get a decent night's sleep.

He cuts her off - goes to the bar. He's going to need a stiff drink to get through this.

The shock of being pushed over makes him cry out, the pain in his neck makes him yell.

Steve blinks awake in a strange bedroom, the side of his neck is throbbing. His shirt is gone, but he's still wearing his pants. His shoes are on the floor next to the bed. He touches his neck cautiously - it's been bandaged.

He can't remember much. Just falling, and pain.

Someone screaming.

He leaves the room carefully, slowly, creeps along the hall, follows the sound of voices. Doesn't make it to the open doorway before someone's coming out to meet him, she has choppy ginger hair and a big smile, "hey, I'm Robin, you doing okay?"

"Steve...and I've been better," he says, following her into a room for of people. A rag tag bunch of teenagers, some younger then Steve, some his age, and a handful of adults, all his parents age or older.

"You must have questions," and older lady says kindly, "I'm Joyce."

"Yeah...where am I and what happened and then probably another fifty after that."

Next to him, Robin snorts.

"You might want to sit down honey," Steve does, "so, first things first. The big thing is that...werewolves exist. They're real. We all turn into wolves."

Steve blinks.

"You're taking this...well."

Clearly these people have no idea who he is, and now is not the time to reveal that, "I'm...in shock?" He tries, weakly.

There's a ripple of reaction through the room, a lot of muttering and elbows, no one's buying it.

"Hmmmm." Joyce looks speculative, never the less, they carry on, "Robin?"

"We were out. For drinks, you know," she gestures vaguely at the group, "and Eddie he just, he just fucking lost it, he-"

"Wait wait wait," Steve might not have a wolf, but he can't ignore his instincts, "Eddie? Munson?"

You could probably hear a pin drop.

All the memories of that summer hit Steve at once. He focuses on the last one, Eddie being dragged away. Eddie fighting to get back to him. "I need to see him."

"Kid, he bit you. He tried to mate you, you don't understand what that means. He attacked a human, there's rules-"

And Steve might be a runt, he might have been excluded from the pack for over a decade, but he still knows the punishment for attacking a human. Eddie's going to die, and Steve will not let that happen, "absolutely fucking not. I'm a Harrington, and Eddie is my mate."

[lexirosewrites]

Random Omegaverse idea for my first proper slick Sunday entry 💚 

What if Omegas evolved the ability to go dormant for long periods of time? In times of danger—war, plague, bad winters, zombies—when the rest of the pack struggle to defend them and share lean resources, they basically hibernate. After all, these are not great times to breed pups.

Omegas simply cuddle up in a hidden nest. Their hearts go slow, they barely breathe, they don’t even age. They wait for the world to be safe for them again, for their pack to wake them up.

At least that’s what’s supposed to happen.

This could happen plenty of ways for O!Steve. Maybe, by the second half of the 20th century, Omegas no longer hibernate, but the Harringtons are getting bored of waiting for their hyper-choosy son to pick a mate. Or they want to get him away from A!Tommy or A!Billy. Or they’re simply not thrilled with their only son presenting Omega. They trick him, maybe tell him that the world’s on the brink of nuclear war, and then…

…Steve goes to sleep. For a long time. For whatever reason (death, convenience, guilt) his parents never wake him.

Present day A!Eddie finds a random box, maybe in an attic/cellar of a long-deserted house he’s crashing in. Maybe he picks up a very mild scent from a box in the corner of a garage sale that nobody else senses. Maybe he follows that faint thread of yummy scent into the depths of the forest, and finds a chest buried under a tree.

He opens it.

Classic sleeping beauty moment ensues. Cuddling and snuggling is a matter of life or death. Then Eddie’s got a confused Omega on his hands, possibly suffering from pack separation or rejection sickness. In the care of a very hot Alpha, though, he’s soon well enough to be hungry, horny, and sure-as-fuck needy. Cuddling and snuggling evolves into lots of sticky sex.

Steve knows nothing about the 21st century. Fortunately, Eddie is happy to show him around, as well as realize their soulmate bond. Steve’s understandably terrified of being ditched again, despite Eddie’s assurances. But once he realizes Eddie is definitely not gonna bury him alive after every little squabble, HEA follows, with optional comeuppance for Steve’s parents/evil pack.

(If you really want fish-out-of-water shenanigans, Steve can come from any time period, Civil War, Regency, Medieval, take your pick. His little box could have crossed oceans of time and literal oceans to find his way to his one-true-love.) 💚 💚 💚 

omfg i loooooove this so much!!!!💕 i’ll take 100k words on my desk by monday😉

[reallyromealone]

Can i request Kaname Kuran x Pureblood Male Reader and reader is kaname's betrothed from birth. If you can you can put in more details but can it be an omegaverse please.

Title: mate oh my mate

Fandom: vampire knight

Characters: vampire knight cast

Fic type: fluff

Pairings: Kaname x reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, Omegaverse, Omega male reader, vampire reader, feeding, yuuki has rage

Notes:

Summary: reader is requested to attend cross academy by his mate and Yuuki is less than impressed

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

"Fiance?" Yuuki was confused, looking around the room while Kaname nodded, holding a photo of the Omega in question, a pure blood dressed in soft cremes "he will be joining the night class!" Cross cheered, trying to see the bright side of the newest student. "He knows the rules, I assume?" Zero grunted at the pure blood who gave him a barely veiled look of annoyance.

"He is fully aware"

Yuuki tried to hide the envy she felt towards the Omega... This was kanames mate...

A pure blood male Omega, probably trained to be the perfect mate for him.

"But there's no Omega dorms in the night class...?" Yuukis question was a thinly veiled argument and Kaname looked at her fondly, as if she were a little sister "we have already made the proper arrangements, his room will be across from mine" Kaname seemed quite pleased with his words, always a slightly smug with each sentence.

Yuuki just sat there before letting out a sigh and standing, storming out of the room.

Confusion swept the vampires face, cross and zero knowing exactly why she left "she had to learn eventually..." Zero mumbled and cross agreed.

Kaname decided he didn't want to pursue this drama, human drama wasn't really something he cared for before excusing himself, after all...

His mate should be here any moment.

-

(Name) Sat in the limo calmly, dressed in his new uniform while staring at the scenery curiously while the sun was setting. He had never been to a school, having been homeschooled prior but his alpha wanted him close, not liking the distance and limited time together. A ring sat on his finger, a beautiful ruby, surrounded by garnets... It reminded (name) of kanames eyes...

His alpha had such lovely eyes...

"We can see each other each day my kana..." (Name) Whispered, pleased with the concept of seeing his beloved once again after almost a month a part, the only commutation being letters; thank god Kaname left him scented objects. The school was truly something, the grand school peaking from the horizon and the trees barely hiding it "so this is where kana stays..." (Name) Was curious about the school, his staff told him roughly how it works...

-

Kaname could sense his mate before he even got on the grounds, the exhaustion of his beloved seeping into his skin, the distance had been taking a toll on him after all. (Name) Was asleep when the limo pulled up and Kaname wasted no time scooping him into his arms and wandering to the night class dorms, looking at the light of his life and hopefully he will be less exhausted after this nap...

(Name) Was usually quite more lively, the sun to his moon but it seems that the seperation had made him so tired... Poor thing. He barely acknowledged the night class while bringing (name) to his room, the Omega immediately snuggling into the blankets and taking in Kanames scent. Looking at his mate, Kaname felt relief and crouched before him "soon we will be out of here... I just have loose ends to tie up and you will be marked and we will go home..." He promised before getting up and walking towards the door, glancing back at the sleeping vampire.

It was hours before (name) woke, eyes snapping open and looking around the unfamiliar room and sniffing... "Starving..." He whispered, wanting nothing more than his alpha to be here so he could pin him down and enjoy what he's been deprived of. Stepping out of the room he looked around with a slouch, Senri the first to notice him and alert the rest of the night class and subsequently Kaname.

"Where is he?" (Name) Said slowly, hungry and frankly not in the mood for any games of any sort "he's in the gardens... He will return soon" Senri spoke softly and (name) just stared before wandering off.

"I just don't understand! Why can't it be me?!" A voice called out and Kanames voice could be heard almost exasperated "Yuuki, I love you but not in the way you want... You're my sister and that will never change but (name) is my mate" Kaname explained to his sister who sobbed angrily "but I love you!"

"But I don't love you"

And at that moment, Yuuki Kuran broke.

Sobbing uncontrollably, she ran off and Kaname kept composure before turning towards his mate "hello my love..." Exhaustion evident in his voice and (name) wandered towards him "she had to learn eventually..." (Name) Reached towards him and gently traced his face and Kaname rested his head in his mates hand.

The two walked back into the dorms and up to kanames room, the Alpha offering his neck to his beloved who Kissed his pulse lovingly before biting in, starved of his mates blood. Kaname gently rubbed his hips and ass, letting his beloved take what he needed before pulling back and snuggling into him "are you hungry alpha?" (Name)s voice content and dream-like and Kaname simply kissed the blood from his lips "I'll feed later, for now we have much to discuss, no?"

(Name) Was graceful and elegant, arm linked with Kanames while students looked on in awe at the Omega with an ornate engagement collar, (name) nodding kindly to the fellow omegas in the school in an act of omega-omega kindness, no matter the hierarchy it was seen as an equal understanding to one another and safety in numbers.

Even if he was a vampire, it was nice to have fellow omegas.

"So why are you attending this school... You received your education" (name) asked while they walked to the headmasters office and Kaname hummed "to keep an eye on my sister, I worry for her and she's attached to a specific human... After the Rido situation... I don't want to risk it"

"Reasonable"

(Name) Was curious while sitting beside Kaname, the headmaster and an obvious hunter "thank you for coming here (name)" cross smiled and (name) nodded politely, looking towards Kaname who nodded "vampiric tradition requires the Omega to have approval before talking to an unknown alpha, as I am required to gain approval before talking to unknown omegas"

"I see, well (name) if there's anything you need here to make your transition smoother please don't hesitate to ask" cross said kindly and yagari glared at the Omega "and one slip up and it's curtains, do you understand me?" His voice stern and (name) nodded calmly "if I find out you fed on any student you will be executed"

"I can only feed from my alpha or those pills you gave me... " (Name) Spoke softly and cross looked confused "vampiric mates can only feed off each other, they don't have claim marks but the rules would still apply for them" yagari explained, already tired of this conversation and (name) was pleased the hunter understood.

"Well regardless, we hope you feel safe and welcome"

"Thank you, sir Cross..." (Name) Spoke kindly before leaving with his mate.

"Now let's hope yuuki doesn't cause problems" cross mumbled, leaning back into his chair.