#I am obsessing over this man you have no idea

[seventh-district]

so was anyone gonna tell me that Neil Newbon is the VA for Astarion or was i gonna have to find that out myself when he suddenly started uploading his playthrough of the game on YT

[juliathetrashyartist]

jack rose > ur favs

[moonlight-hwa]

So I got a copy of Will at target today (diary version, because that was my favorite) and all I have to say is….Jung Wooyoung just give me one chance, please

[sophiamcdougall]

I am never going to complain about Greek Duolingo again

I mean, I am. But still.

So, as some of you know, my family has been coming to this tiny Greek seaside village for several years. Just over a week ago I came out here with my mum, under the impression that early September, after the height of the summer heat, would be a good time to have a holiday. ANYWAY Storm Daniel had other ideas about that. Locally things are improving (I'm actually really pissed off about the disaster-porn tone of most English-language media coverage, but that's another post). The power is back on, there's running water most of the time, and though the latter is not drinkable, a truck from the government came and handled out free bottled water yesterday. But we are currently kind of stuck. Can't do tourist things. Can't go home. There aren't any local flights out until Saturday and the road to Thessaloniki is still closed.

So this evening, feeling kind of aimless and depressed, I go down to the nearest beach with a couple of binbags and start cleaning up in an effort to at least do something positive. I always try to do this at least once out here and obviously, after the storm, there's a lot more plastic and rubbish than usual.

At some point I find this large, round bit of metal - some kind of machinery part, I think -- that's too big for the bag, so I take it to the bins on its own, leaving the rubbish bag on the beach. And when I come back for it, something among the stones beside it moves.

Specifically, it pulls its head sharply inside its shell

So, meanwhile I've been trying to learn some Greek with the help of Duolingo.

I currently have a 33-day streak and... I have questions. Shouldn't I be able to use the past or future tenses by now? Shouldn't I be able to say "x is like y"? I can't do those things. But one thing I absolutely can say all day long is έχω μια χελώνα : I have a turtle.

This is far from the limit of Duolingo Greek's turtle-related content. "An obsession with turtles" is my mother's characterisation. I can inform you that the turtle is not a bird, and, improbably, that the turtle is drinking milk. I can introduce you to a turtle in company with a horse and an elephant. As far as Duolingo is concerned, it really is turtles all the way down.

Now this, you may be able to see, is not a turtle. It has claws rather than flippers. It is a tortoise. I know there are wild tortoises in Greece: my aunt once rescued a pair of them shagging in the middle of the road -- but that was up in the mountains. I've even seen one myself, but it was also on a road and very dead.

I am 95% certain they don't belong on beaches. There's nothing for it to eat, except, unfortunately, a lot of plastic. Even if it gets off the beach it will immediately find itself on a road where it could get hit by a car. I'm pretty sure it must have been washed down by the floodwater and has been just sitting there, dazed, ever since.

Now obviously the first thing I want to do on encountering this unusual animal is to go and tell my mummy, so I do. The tortoise immediately brightens her day. She agrees that the tortoise is not happy on the beach and needs to be taken somewhere safe. it gets surprisingly wriggly when picked up so we put it in a carrier bag with some grapes and cucumber and go looking for somewhere to rehome it.

We find a path leading up between the houses towards a likely-looking field, but before we get very far a dog in a yard goes berserk and a man's head pops over a fence and demands to know what we're doing. He does this in English, as evidently we're just that obviously tourists.

"I found a tortoise on the beach!" I explain. "We want to find somewhere to put it."

"A what," he asks.

"It's like a, you know," I begin and then to my astonishment I find myself saying... "μια χελώνα"

"Oh! A turtle!" he says.

"But from the land. δεν είναι χελώνα", [it is not a turtle,] I say, as I am worried he will tell me to put it back near the sea where I found it. As it turns out it actually IS a χελώνα, Greek does not distinguish between turtles and tortoises, but I don't know that; I can't even name the days of the week or identify any colours other than pink yet, give me a break.

The man's entire demeanour changes and thaws. He does not worry about my turtle-that-is-not-a-turtle conundrum. He knows where οι χελώνες come from and where η χελώνα μας belongs. He leads us through a gate into a courtyard area.

"[somethingsomething] μια χελώνα," he explains to the assembled onlookers, of whom there are, suddenly, a surprising number.

"ΜΙΑ ΧΕΛΩΝΑ!!!" crows the throng of delighted small children, who are, suddenly, everywhere.

"μια χελώνα!" I agree, accepting that at least for current purposes, that is what it is.

"Μπορούμε να δούμε τη χελώνα σας; [can we see your turtle?]" asks an adorable little girl, shyly, and I understand??

The children fucking love looking at the χελώνα and showing it to them is kind of magical?

I finally put the tortoise down on the grass of this wild area off to the side of the courtyard, and marvel aloud that it is weird that I barely know any Greek except how to say μια χελώνα.

"I think she will soon run off," a kind lady called Aspasia assures me, seeing I remain slightly anxious about its fate. "I don't know why I'm saying 'she'. I suppose because χελώνα is feminine in Greek."

"Yes! I know that!" I exclaim, thrilled.

"Well done!" she says. And also she asks if we are OK for drinking water after the storm and if we need any help with anything and is just generally incredibly lovely and now we know more of the neighbours!

So "μια χελώνα" has just become, by a long way, my most-used and most understood and all-around most conversationally successful phrase in Greek. So I guess I have to admit I was wrong to doubt Duolingo's wisdom: it is correct to be obsessed with turtles. And I concede that prior to learning how to count to ten or to distinguish right from left, the simple ability to yell the word TURTLE over and over again is, it turns out, a crucial element of the responsible traveller's social skills.

(I am pretty fluent in Italian and turtles haven't come up in conversation even once?)

[voiceshearingyouloud]

Actually fuck my therapist for saying ‘but is your delusion actually true though?’ because of all the unhelpful things to ask someone who’s grip on reality is already tenuous…

[chloe-petrichors]

cradling constellations // jace x reader

when rhaenyra brings her family to court to celebrate the king's fiftieth name day, there was but one thing on your mind: getting to see jace, the boy you'd loved in secret, once more.

whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same. —emily brontë

fandom; house of the dragon pairing; jacaerys velaryon x f!aunt!reader (no use of y/n) warnings; canon-typical incest, canon-au (it's viserys' birthday party baby), altered timeline (jace and reader are in their 20s) idiots in love, instant attraction/love at first (second) sight, childhood sweethearts (kinda?), soulmate vibes, love confessions, switching povs, smut (mdni !) including masturbation (m), p in v, fingering, oral (f receiving), implied loss of virginity, unprotected sex, mild marriage kink if that’s even a thing, body worship, dirty talk, praise kink, multiple orgasms, mild overstimulation, soft dom vibes, jace being a tits man. word count; 15k+ (oops) notes; me, obsessed with jace? more likely than u think. this whole fic spawned from the fact that i noticed jace's freckles on a gif and lost my gd mind. this was meant to be a quick smut fic. and then i took 11k+ words to get to the smut part. i'm sorry (i'm not). this is totally self-indulgent, soulmates, love at first sight kinda fluff-to-smut and i regret nothing. way too much time of writing this was me trawling through the asoiaf wiki pages to find details that are relevant for one whole sentence. why am i this way. valyrian is pulled straight from a translator i found online, pls let me know if you notice any errors! requests; are open !

the first time you laid eyes on jacaerys velaryon, you knew he was something special.

you had just been children, then, uncertain of each other due to the discontent between your families. but he had been kind to you, dark eyes warm, and it had been an easy thing to be kind in return. your brothers make it difficult, of course, as they seem to do with everything they get involved in. aegon had been the worst at first, spouting off the same vitriol your mother had always whispered into your ears, but aemond had not been far behind him.

after the events of laena’s funeral and the loss of aemond’s eye, the hostilities only grow and grow. helaena keeps herself apart from most of it by virtue of her typically distant manner, but your brothers insist on drawing you into the same arguments again and again. it's tedious, laborious, but they are your family.

jace and luke are too, of course, not that anyone else seems to want to admit it. for all that they are velaryon’s by name (and strong in heart, mayhaps, yes), they are your nephews. your brothers only seem interested in remembering this when it serves them, however — which is usually when they’re lording it over the dark-haired boys.

in truth, the velaryon’s are hardly innocent either. it seems like the two sets of boys bring out the absolute worse in each other without fail, and it’s usually left to you to try and be the voice of reason.

away from your brothers’ taunts, jace is like a different boy entirely. endlessly curious and ceaselessly kind, the brunette seems to always have time to talk and jape with you. your friendship grows surprisingly easy as children, and with early adulthood comes the bloom of a different kind of affection, too. you never say anything, knowing all too well that if your brothers catch even a whisper of your feelings that there will be no end of hells to pay.

it matters little, regardless. your mother will never tolerate a betrothal between the two of you and you know better than to even attempt to broach such a topic. it had been sheer miracle that she hadn’t tried marrying you off to aemond after securing aegon and helaena’s marriage, and you aren’t willing to tempt fate by giving her ideas now. so what if you spend countless nights dreaming of freckled skin and dark hair? it matters not in the scheme of things.

rhaenyra flees kings landing after daemon’s return to westeros, leaving you feeling strangely bereft without your nephews’ company. years go by with no contact from your sister’s family, and so you let your old daydreams fall to the wayside. there’s no use dwelling on what you can’t have, and no point bringing it up since even now just a mention of luke or jace is enough to inflame aemond’s temper.

and then, of course, the news comes that rhaenyra is returning to court for the king’s fiftieth name day. there are great feasts and celebrations planned in honour of your father, which you privately think silly considering it’s unlikely he would be well enough to attend half the festivities. still, there’s no denying your excitement at the idea of seeing jace again. he would be a man grown, now, his twentieth name day having passed only a few moons ago.

for once the majority of your family will be under one roof, and you are certain it will end in disaster — but you intend to enjoy it while you can.

going flying the morning of the velaryons arrival is perhaps not your smartest idea. 

your nerves wake you well before dawn. you feel as if you’re going to crawl out of your skin if you don’t do something, and you know your chances for flying will be limited with the celebrations expected to start tomorrow. so you decided to take the chance while you can, dressing quickly in your riding gear before creeping to the dragon pit well before any of your family wake.

silverwing likes it when you take her for unexpected flights, so she makes no complaint when you have the dragon keepers release her. you go through the motions of saddling her yourself, as you always do, taking the chance to reinforce the bond with your dragon.

silverwing hadn’t been your hatched dragon. the egg that you had slept beside as a babe had never hatched, just as aemond’s and helaena’s hadn’t. it had infuriated aemond when you were children, that jace and luke’s dragons hatched while he was left without. it had made him an easy target for the other boys; aegon had often led the others in riling him about his lack of dragon until he had claimed vhagar. you can admit now that the others had oft been cruel to him in their japing, and it had ended poorly for everyone involved.

your claiming of silverwing had been incredibly boring in comparison. she had found you, in truth, a year after aemond claimed vhagar. she’d been your great-grandmother the good queen alysanne’s dragon before your own, and had not taken a rider since the queen’s death. she’d flown from the dragonmont to find you, and you’ve been nigh on inseparable since. your mother despairs over it, hating how her often her ‘perfect daughter’ has shown up to court late with windswept hair and flushed cheeks.

but, to you, flying is freedom.

there’s nothing else like it in the world; the sensation of silverwing beneath you, the seven kingdoms at your fingertips, and only the sky above. your mother has never really let go of her fear of the dragons, and you can understand it in a way; she is no targaryen, and she’ll never know what it is to bond with a dragon, to have that presence so alien and yet so familiar nudging against the corners of your mind. any attempts to explain it to her are met with bemusement and wariness, and you’d long ago learned to stop bringing it up.

silverwing’s joy to fly merges into your own as you climb atop her, running a soothing hand over the gleaming silver spikes at her neck as you adjust the straps. her impatience thrums loudly through the bond as you settle yourself into the saddle, and you feel her heart beat through you like a second pulse as your own anticipation rises.

“ivestragī īlva sōvegon, ñuha raqiros! [let us fly, my friend!]”

she needs no further nudging than that, and with a delighted roar she launches into the air. your laughter is stolen by the wind as she beats her wings, propelling you higher and higher before sweeping over the towering peaks of the red keep. with a shouted instruction she banks sharply to the left, flying out over blackwater bay as the sun finally crests the horizon. the dark sea lights up with reds and golds beneath you, the sky gloriously blue above, and silverwing’s distinctive scales shine in the breaking dawn.

a glorious morning, you think, and as the two of you climb higher to the sky you feel all your nerves and excitement for anything but the flight leave you. this is what your mother will never understand; flying is an escape, yes, but not from your duties as she assumes it is. this is an escape from your worries, from the petty machinations of court. in the sky with your dragon, you need worry only about how chill the wind will be, or if aemond is out with vhagar, who’s a grumpy old beast at the best of times and silverwing is feeling mischievous.

you find peace, here, in the sky. this is what you were born for.

long minutes pass as you fly leisurely, circling over the bay and the keep and back again in ever widening circles. sometimes silverwing dives just to do so, plunging so close to the blackwater that you could reach out and skim your hand over the dark depths. you lose track of time as the two of you fly, contentment bleeding across the bond so completely you can’t even tell which one of you it’s coming from.

a dragon’s cry in the distance catches your attention, and silverwing pulls up from where she’d been ducking her head into the water to snatch fish. she propels you rapidly higher into the air, crying out in response as you break through the thin cloud cover. you expect to find aegon’s dragon; sunfyre is the only dragon silverwing likes, rather than tolerates, to be making such a noise in greeting.

but it’s an unfamiliar dragon that greets you, olive green scales shining with the damp from the high altitudes. your mind races as you struggle to place it, and it’s only when you catch sight of a head of dark curls astride the dragon that you realise who it is.

vermax.

and jacaerys.

your heart skips in your chest, silverwing’s unexpected excitement tangling with your own nerves as she swoops towards the much smaller dragon. it’s only her sheer happiness that stops you from panicking or shouting a command to halt in valyrian, and moments later you recall she’d have known vermax from her time on dragonstone.

she somersaults over and around vermax playfully, and you release an exhilarated laugh in response as you cling tightly to the saddle. you see only snatches of jace as your dragons fly complicated patterns around each other, but the quick flashes you do get find an easy smile on his face.

the dragons spend a long while flying together, racing and diving and spiralling to new heights. they move so quickly that you have no chance to try and greet jacaerys, can offer nothing more than quick smiles as you pass him. it gives you the time for your nerves to settle back down, time to reassure yourself that any childhood feelings are long faded and that you will be able to act perfectly composed when it is time to greet him.

eventually you realise your dragon is not going to land until you tell her too, and vermax is clearly just as willing to chase after the larger she-dragon for as long as she is willing to be chased.

“māzigon, silverwing. istiti tegun [come, silverwing. we must land],” you shout, laughing again when the dragon whines her displeasure. she listens regardless, soaring down in tightening circles with vermax following close on your tail. her landing in the dragon pit is far from smooth, but you’re well used to compensating for the jostling as she settles onto the ground once more.

you’re quick in freeing yourself from the saddle, murmuring warm thanks and praise to your dragon as you walk to the side of her great head to meet a single burning eye. “kirimvose, ñuha raqiros. kesi sōvegon arlī aderī [thank you, my friend. we will fly again soon],” you tell her, and she responds with a content grumble as she nudges her head gently against your chest in affection.

you leave the dragon keepers to return her to her cave, instead turning to watch as jace shares his own goodbyes with his dragon. you take the chance to look at him, properly look, and find yourself suddenly warring with self-consciousness and a burning in your chest.

despite the acrobatics of the dragons, he looks perfectly put together with his dark curls brushing his shoulders and a pleasing tan to his skin. you fear you must look a ruin, with your hair undoubtedly a mess and cheeks flushed from the cold bite of the wind. your breath is still a touch laboured from the exertion of the flight, while he looks perfectly composed in his fancy black and red doublet. you curse the old gods and the new that you’d picked out your old riding gear this morning — comfortable, yes, but certainly not ideal for greeting the heir to the heir and the man you’d once daydreamed about marrying.

you push the thoughts away with determined stubbornness, refusing to dwell on the warmth in your chest when jace finally turns to look at you. he’s grown, you note immediately, now standing at least a head taller than you. any traces of baby fat have left him, leaving behind a strong, square jaw and strong yet slim shoulders. his dark eyes are warm, though, and his smile friendly as he takes you in.

you dip instinctually into a curtsey, a perfectly respectable greeting ready on your lips, but you’re startled into straightening back to standing when jace laughs.

“come now, princess,” he says, fond and teasing he approaches you. he’s the only one who’s ever been able to make the title sound more like an endearment. “since when have we been ones for formality?”

it sets you at ease immediately, tension relaxing from your shoulders as you beam at him. “i suppose we never have been very good at that, have we?” you let your eyes skip over him again, something like relief settling in your bones at the sight of him. “it’s good to see you again, jace.”

“aye,” he returns, dark eyes sparkling. “it is good to see you, indeed.”

for a long moment he simply looks at you, and it makes that peculiar warmth in your chest blaze a little brighter. there’s something in his face that you’ve never seen there before — but then you think of course there is. you haven’t seen him in so long there’s probably all kinds of things about you him you no longer know. it aches, almost, to think it, but in a way he’s a stranger to you; a man with the kind eyes of the boy you’d loved in secret, once.

you clear your throat as you drop your eyes from his stare, glancing at the bustling keepers as they tend to your dragons instead as you cast about for something to say.

“are the rest of your family not flying in?” you query after a moment.

he shakes his head, dark curls swaying with the movement. “no, arrax and tyraxes are still too small to fly luke and joff for such a journey, and mother would rather stay with my brothers on the ship.”

you nod in acceptance, shifting slightly on the spot. “well then, let me be the first to welcome you back to king’s landing, my prince.” you take the formality out of your tone with a playful wink, and are gratified to see the way he chuckles at your antics.

“i had hoped you’d be the first i’d see.” he admits this casually, as if this doesn’t set your heart and mind racing. “i have missed you, aunt.”

you duck your head again to try and hide the smile spreading across your face. you tell yourself sternly to stop acting like some lovesick child, all the while that small flame continues to burn away inside of you. “and i you, nephew.” you glance up at him shyly from beneath your lashes, teeth worrying at your bottom lip, and you don’t miss the way his eyes track the movement.

he’s the one to clear his throat, this time, stepping a half-pace away from you and gesturing for you to proceed him. “shall we head to the keep, then? my mother’s ship should have arrived by now and we wouldn’t want to miss the formal welcome.”

“as you say,” you agree, and the two of you set off.

you spend the long walk to the keep catching up on the long years between you. you’d expected the time apart to be like a gulf between you, a canyon that could not be crossed, but if anything it’s the opposite. it’s as if you’d last seen each other only hours ago. it should startle you, how simple it feels to fall into your old friendship, but you don’t have it in you to be surprised. that’s always been the thing with jace, after all — it’s easy. being around him, speaking to him, listening to his odd tangents. it all comes as natural to you as breathing, as if there’s a part of you that was just born knowing him.

he's dodging your questions as you finally arrive at the keep, having let slip something about an old secret from the days of your childhood that he’s never shared with you. it makes something flutter in your chest, the way he looks at you as he says it. the way he’s looked at you the whole time, in fact, has you having to bite back a smile. he looks at you as if he is looking at something precious, expression tender and fond and uncomplicated. it threatens to steal your breath again, and so you make an effort to try and act as unaffected as possible, because he cannot mean it in the way you think you might want him too.

“oh, but you simply must tell me!” you wheedle cheerfully, a mischievous smile on your lips. “you wouldn’t keep a secret from me, would you, my prince?”

you pout at him, fluttering your lashes in the way you usually do when trying to get your way with your brothers. jace swallows audibly at the sight, some emotion you can’t read flickering across his eyes as his gaze drops to your mouth and then lower again before returning to your eyes. something in his expression makes you flush, cheeks burning as your lips part slowly. a heat rises in you, unbidden, as he steps ever so slightly closer into your space. you’re overwhelmed with the smell of him; sea salt and dragon smoke and something almost woodsy underneath it, something entirely jace.

he murmurs your name so quietly you almost miss it over the sounds of courtyard. his hand twitches as if to reach for you as he ducks his head slightly, and you think if you lifted yours just so you’d be able to brush your lips over the strong line of his jaw. you realise suddenly how much you want to — how much you want to drag your tongue over his skin and taste.

oh.

oh.

you want him. that peculiar feeling that had been burning in your chest — you recognise the desire for what it is, now. the easy camaraderie that you’d fell into on the walk to the keep subsides in the wake of it, and abruptly all you can think of is what his mouth will feel like on your own. the palpable tension between you makes your hands tremble with the urge to touch, heart pounding so loudly in your ears it drowns out anything that isn’t him as the rest of the courtyard fades away.

you sway the barest inch closer, inhaling his scent deeply, and watch as jace’s nostrils flare in response. with a shaky breath you lift your chin, eyes dropping to his parted lips, and you bite your bottom lip as his tongue sweeps over his own.

“jace…”

“brother! there you are!”

luke’s voice startles you both back to reality as you spring apart. you hadn’t realised just how close you’d gotten, your chests almost brushing with every breath, until the gap between you widens. you drop your eyes to your feet, cheeks blazing with embarrassment as you realise how close you’d come to kissing him in an extremely public place. you chide yourself internally for forgetting yourself, and take another second to gather your composure before lifting your head with a smile.

“hello, nephew,” you greet luke warmly, doing your best to ignore the way jace’s eyes burns into the side of your face. “it is very good to see you again.”

“aunt!” luke fairly cheers, and you note how the youth still clings to his face. while certainly older than the last time you’d seen him, he still seems like a child to you. his limbs are long and gangly, in that awkward stage at the cusp of adulthood where he’s not quite grown into himself yet. he bounds closer, drawing you into a hug that you allow and return with a fond laugh.

“luke, honestly,” jace tuts, shaking his head as the two of you separate. “we’re at court, now. at least try to remember your manners.”

the younger boy winces. “ah, right, yes.” he sketches a quick but perfect bow your way. “it is a great honour to see you once more, princess.” he flashes a cheeky smile and a wink your way as he straightens out, and you press your hand to your mouth to smother a giggle at the exasperated look on jace’s face at his brother’s antics. he’s hardly one to talk, you think, considering how quickly he had dispensed with manners when greeting you.

in return, you dip into a practiced if impish curtsey. “it is a sincere pleasure to see you as well, prince lucerys.”

luke does giggle, then, as jace rolls his eyes so hard you think they’re at risk of falling out of his head. despite his dramatics, you spot the smile twitching at the corner of his mouth as he watches you jape with his brother.

“the queen is looking for you, dear aunt,” luke says after the greetings are done, and your amusement flees you as your stomach drops.

it’s only then you realise that with both luke and jace being here, you’ve certainly missed the official welcome of princess rhaenyra back to court. you wince at the thought of your mother’s ire, resigning yourself to a long lecture about your responsibilities and how dragon riding is ‘not one of them’. jace catches your expression, concern creasing his face as his brows furrow.

“alright?” he checks, and you do your best to offer him a reassuring smile.

“yes, i’m sure all will be well.” you hesitate a moment before offering a one-shouldered shrug, ignoring the voice in your head that sounds far too much like your mother telling you how unladylike such a motion is. “i expect my mother will be displeased with me for missing the official welcome, but the festivities will surely distract her quick enough.”

luke and jace both offer you a commiserating smile as the three of you head into the keep. you expect your mother will be waiting in her solar, which is on a close route to the guest suites set aside for the visiting royals, and so you walk with the velaryons as far as you can. when it comes time to part, jace lingers at the entry of the hall as luke continues down the corridor. his dark eyes are fixed to yours so intensely it steals your breath as you slow to a stop as well.

“i’ll see you at the feast,” he says quietly, capturing your hand in his much larger one and bringing it to his mouth. your breath hitches in your chest, eyes widening as he brushes his lips tenderly over your knuckles. your lips part in surprise, tingles racing up your arm from where his mouth makes contact with your skin. before you have chance to respond, jace dips into a sweeping bow and then bids you farewell, leaving you staring after him for a long moment.

well. if your mother doesn’t kill you, you think jace certainly will.

jace sinks into the hot water of the bath with a deep sigh of relief.

after meeting with his mother to explain why he’d been late to the formal greetings — or, rather, offer excuses as to why he’d been late, since he doesn’t think his mother will take well to the idea he was so busy enjoying himself flying with you that the thought of any formal welcome party left his mind entirely — he’d sought his chambers. the bath had been ready and waiting for him, tendrils of steam wafting from the clear water, and he’d wasted no time in shedding his clothes. he’s keen to wash the dragon stink from his skin before the feast, and he makes quick work of scrubbing his skin clean. when he’s done, he allows himself to relax against the metal of the tub, arms draped carelessly over the metal rim as he soaks.

king’s landing from dragonstone is not too long a journey on dragon back, but flying for such a stretch causes its own particular aches. vermax had enjoyed the chance to stretch his wings, at least, and had enjoyed the playful flight with silverwing even more.

he can admit to himself he’d enjoyed it, too, the sight of you astride your dragon lighting something within him. it’s been so long since he’d seen you, not since the aftermath of laena’s funeral, and he hadn’t been prepared for how the sight of you — breathless and flush and beaming at him — would make him feel. he’d almost managed to push back his boyhood adoration and childhood daydreams of marrying you one day with the years passing, but seeing you again brings it all rushing back and he feels as hopelessly enamoured with you now as he did as a child.

you’ve grown well, there’s no denying that. where childhood had left you sometimes awkward and gangly, you’ve become a woman grown now with all the curves and delights that come with it. he’d been embarrassed at how hard it had been to pull his gaze from you on the trip to the keep, but you’d not seemed to notice. too occupied with filling the air between you with light chatter, you’d been oblivious to the way his eyes had dragged over your form again and again.

you just — you’re so unlike anyone else he knows. he’d let himself forget how lovely you were, but there was no way to ignore it now. riding the high of your flight and genuinely happy to see him, you’d been like something out of a dream. your face had been as open to him as ever, plainly delighted to see him, and seeing you had eased some ache he’d become so used to he’d not even know it was there until he felt the lack of it.

he’s not some foolish child. he knows better than to think of things like love when his head must lie with his duty. but the thought remains regardless, lingering in the back of his mind that you would be as easy to love now as you had been when you were younger. it had been a childish love then, of course; innocent and sweet in the ways only children could be. but it had been there, unspoken and unacted upon, but no less real for it.

you’re not children anymore. it would be impossible to think otherwise with the way your riding gear had clung flatteringly to your chest and hips. your mouth looked so pretty stretched into a smile, a smile for him, and he thinks it’s a testament to his restraint that he’d not kissed you on the spot when you’d pouted so prettily up at him. he’d thought for a fleeting moment that perhaps you were going to kiss him with the way your eyes had darkened, how you’d gravitated into his space as if without intention.

heat pools in his stomach as he thinks about how the neckline of your riding dress had cut low enough to allow him a peak at your chest, heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. he wonders what your mouth would taste like, what noises you would make if he’d slid his tongue against your own. gods, he feels like a green boy seeing a woman for the first time — almost undone at just the thought of you. he won’t be able to get through the welcome feast like this, he thinks, so on edge with his lust for you burning him from the inside out.

it’s not even a conscious choice to curl his fingers around his cock, half-hard already as he thinks of you. jace’s head tips back against the rim of the bath, eyes drifting closed as a quiet gasp escapes him. the warm water eases his way as he strokes himself, and he lets himself imagine it’s your slick, instead.

he pictures you before him, pretends it’s your hand teasing at the skin at the head of his cock. your hands are so small, so dainty, he thinks you probably wouldn’t be able to wrap them all the way around him. he imagines they’re a little calloused — soft, mostly, but with the fingertips just rough enough from years spent riding and caring for your dragon. they’d drag so deliciously against his skin, and you’d take to the task with the same voracious enthusiasm you do with everything else. you’d watch him closely, pick up on the cues of his pleasure, and he’d unravel for you so quickly it’d be embarrassing if it was anyone else.

“fuck,” he hisses out, thumb dragging over the liquid leaking copiously from his tip. his head tips back even further, water dripping from his curls onto the stone floor as he chases his release. his imagining splinters into disconnected fantasies; you, on your knees with your mouth stretched around him, lashes damp with reflexive tears as your eyes fix on his. you, sprawled beneath him and writhing as he feasts on your cunt like a man starved. you, babbling in high valyrian as he sinks into the tight wet heat of you. you, clenching and shuddering around his cock as you come for him, blazing and beautiful. you, you, you.

his release hits him hard, a low groan tearing from his throat as his hips thrust up into his hand as he drags out those last few moments of pleasure. his panting breaths sound loud in the silence of his chambers, and jace is suddenly acutely aware of the fact that he is alone. there is, of course, no trace of you.

he knows in that moment he has to have you. he cannot tolerate the thought of anyone else — not for himself, and certainly not for you. he wants you as his wife, his queen, the mother of his children. jace doesn’t care how he must do it — as long as you’re as willing as he is, he is going to make you his.

the feast has started by the time jace arrives.

his indulgence had cost him time, and then he’d spent longer than usual readying himself while trying to ignore the fact he was doing so only to impress you. by the time he makes it to the hall his family are already seated and the minstrels are playing a jaunty tune. his eyes seek you instantly, and he resists the urge to frown in disappointment as he sees you sat between helaena and aemond. he’d hoped to sit beside you and use this time to see if there was any hint of you returning his feelings. no matter — there would be time enough later. if he has his way, there’ll be all the time in the world.

you look beautiful, he notes. you’re dressed in your usual deep green, the gown cut flatteringly for your shape. your face is animated and happy as you chat to aemond, and though he finds the idea of anyone enjoying that grumpy prick’s presence bizarre, he enjoys the sight of you so at ease.  

as he approaches the head table and the empty seat between his mother and luke, your eyes linger on him. he’s gratified by the way you light up when you spot him, offering him a warm smile in welcome for all that you’re quickly entangled into a conversation with your sister. it eases some of the sting at finding you unavailable, and he’s helpless but to smile back at you even when your gaze slides back to helaena.

luke eyes him strangely as he settles into his seat but says nothing as jace reaches for a goblet of wine. his mother greets him absently, entangled as she is in conversation with the king, and he takes the moment to glance out at the hall.

it’s a relatively small feast. large enough to not cause offence to the heir to the throne, but not so grand as to detract from the festivities planned for the next fortnight. he recognises a few faces in the crowd, people from different houses from across the kingdoms. the king’s birthday celebrations are no small affair, and he spots representatives from all the great houses as well as some of the more minor ones.

it makes him want to slump in his seat, for all that he keeps his posture straight. he knows the next few weeks will be full of politicking and double speak, and it grates. as the heir to the heir, jace knows it’s partially his responsibility to ensure their alliances still stand while seeking out any news one that might present themselves. he has no doubt that some of the lords in this crowd will have brought their daughters, planning to parade them in front of him and his brothers in hopes they might pick one as their betrothed.

his lack of betrothal has been a point of contention for many of the court, he knows. most had assumed he would be betrothed to his stepsister baela, and he’d thought the same for years. it was only when his mother had confided that baela had no interest in being queen and, in fact, was so strongly opposed to the idea that she swore to fly to essos and never be seen again if they tried marrying her to him that he realised just why such a betrothal had never been announced.

it had left him free, in a way, to pursue his own desires; without a betrothal attached to him he’d shed any guilt about seeking company at the pleasure houses. but, in turn, it had left him open to the machinations of the other houses who all sought to have their blood on the iron throne. it’s incredibly tedious, but he knows he must grin and bear it for the sake of his mother and his house.

the food arrives then, and he busies himself with the meal and talking to his siblings. his grandsire makes a speech welcoming his daughter and her family home, and jace notes the sour faces of alicent’s sons. they keep their tongues, at least, which shows a maturity from them he truthfully hadn’t expected. perhaps they’ve grown just as you have, he thinks, but dismisses the thought when aemond catches his eye and only sneers in response to jace’s tentative smile.

he's often wondered at the conflict between the two sides of the family. the animosity now he can pinpoint, of course; aemond losing his eye. but there had been years before that of tense, standoffish behaviour interspersed with camaraderie when everyone seemed to forget they weren’t meant to be friends. he remembers playing pranks with aegon while luke trailed after them, and he remembers sitting with helaena while she perused the dirt for bugs.

he remembers you, most of all. kind and fearless and smart, you’d enamoured him from the moment he was old enough to recognise girls were different to boys in interesting ways. even before then you’d been fast friends, something in your similarly mischievous behaviour drawing you into each other’s orbit. he’s always been drawn to you, he thinks, to the uncomplicated joy you took in your life. there was so much to be miserable about, so much duty on all your shoulders, but you always found something to smile over. your unfailing optimism would no doubt be irritating to some, but to him it has always been one of his favourite things about you.

his gaze, predictably, shifts to you. he startles to find you looking at him already. you flush immediately as your eyes lock, presumably embarrassed at being caught, and he enjoys the colour it brings to your cheeks. you don’t drop his stare, though, not until helaena says something to draw your attention back to her once again. he catches sight of a private little quirk of your lips as your head turns, and something like satisfaction settles in his chest as he hides his own smile in his goblet.

perhaps this feast won’t be as tedious as he’d feared.

“are you enjoying the festivities, princess?”

jace’s voice pulls you from where you’ve been staring into your wine as if it holds all the secrets of the world. you’ve lost count of how many goblets you’ve had, chattering away with your siblings before aegon had started to become cruel in his inebriation and you’d all opted to split apart through the hall. you glance up to find the velaryon prince standing before you, hands perched loosely on the hilt of his sword. he looks unfairly handsome, you think, with his tumble of curls and well-fitted doublet, and something about the slight smirk on his face makes you think he knows it.

“i am enjoying them well enough,” you allow, flicking your gaze from his to look out at the dance floor. aemond is dancing with helaena, aegon far too deep into his cups to bother thinking of his wife. your mother is as tense as she has been since you’d found her earlier; her stepdaughter’s arrival to court has set her incredibly on edge, and the lecture she’d given you earlier had certainly been one of her worst. and your father is oblivious to it all, simply too pleased at the presence of his favoured daughter to care about the way the rest of his family are fracturing apart.

he's not been a good father to you, the king. he’s called you and helaena rhaenyra more than once over the years, and even when his eyes are you on you, you never feel like it’s you he sees. your mother had tried to soothe the ache of his absence, of his blatant favour for a woman who was not here, but as the years stretched on even she had seemed to fade further and further away from you all. for so long it’s just been the four of you, clinging to each other and tearing each other apart in equal measure. you’ve oft thought that daeron is the luckiest of you, able to thrive at the hightower and away from the mess of your family.

you pause at the maudlin turn of your thoughts, peering contemplatively into your wine again before offering jace a slightly sheepish smile. “i… fear i may have indulged in too much wine,” you admit, startling a laugh from the darkhaired prince.

it’s aegon’s fault, you decide; before he’d gotten belligerently drunk he’d been so cheerful, seemingly pleased to have the pressure of being the eldest targaryen child in court off of his shoulders. in his cheer he had plied you with wine, laughing and japing with an arm over your shoulder as you reminisced on simpler times of your childhood. happy to see him so, you’d not resisted, but now you find yourself regretting those choices as your thoughts tumble sluggishly through your mind.

jace shakes his head fondly at you, reaching out to carefully steal your goblet away. his fingers brush against yours as he does so, the barest of touches and yet enough to set your heart racing as you blink slowly up at him. he sips from your wine deliberately, amber eyes darkening as he holds your stare, and your lips part with an unsteady breath. something about him drinking your wine from your cup has your stomach fluttering pleasantly.

gods, i want him.

the thought is enough to startle you, heat suffusing your cheeks as you avert your gaze. jace doesn’t, though, and you can feel the weight of his stare on you like a tangible thing. it makes your skin prickle with warmth, and you lurch a touch unsteadily to your feet before you can say anything silly like ‘kiss me, please’.

“i think i should retire to my chambers before i make a drunken fool of myself,” you announce, fingers smoothing over the green velvet of your dress.

“i’ll escort you,” jace returns, tone leaving no room for argument.

he sets aside the wine and offers you his arm, quirking an eyebrow as if in challenge. you hesitate for barely a second, taking a steadying breath, before looping your arm through his and allowing him to lead you through the crowd towards the open doors. the woodsy smell of him you’d noticed before is clearer, now, and you take another deep breath of the scent. it calms your nerves and yet inflames your desire, and your fingers tighten infinitesimally against his bicep.

you stop at the doors of the feasting chamber for long enough to let ser erryk know that you’re retiring for the evening, leaving it to him to pass the message on to your mother, and then you and jace are alone in the halls of the keep.

of course, you’re not truly alone. guards litter the corridors and even at this late hour servants bustle along, busy with their chores. but in the quiet of the keep as jace leads you to your rooms, you can almost imagine yourself alone with him. the thought threatens to overwhelm you, mad fantasies of him tugging you into a dark alcove to devour you flashing through your mind, and you scold yourself internally.

you’re really very cross with aegon. he and his wine have left you in this state, too far into your cups to keep control of your dangerous wonderings. if only he had not kept calling for more of that gods-be-damned arbor gold, you’d have been able to keep your wits about you. you’d wanted to dance at the feast, too, mayhaps even with jacaerys but at the very least with your brothers. instead, you’re being led back to your rooms like a child who’s had their first taste of wine with dinner and let it go to their head.

jace’s presence helps your intoxication little. seeing him again, touching him, smelling him — it’s all too much when all your defences are down like this. you feel like a girl again, staring breathlessly after him and so full of certainty that you love him, and it’s just— ridiculous. you’ve spent mere hours in his presence and you’re like some lovelorn idiot with no thought in your mind beyond being as close to him as is possible. it’s foolish, reckless, absurd. but it’s there, regardless, unfurling in your chest with a lovely kind of agony.

you keep quiet on the walk, too afraid that if you open your mouth you’ll beg him to have his way with you or, worse, confess your re-blooming infatuation for him, and jace seems content enough to walk in silence for a while. eventually, though, he speaks.

“i don’t think i’ve ever seen you drunk before,” he observes, tone light.

you glance at him sidelong, pursing your lips at the teasing smirk curling on his mouth. “it’s aegon’s doing,” you tell him solemnly. “my brother is something of an expert on the subject of wines, and his tolerance is… much higher than mine own.”

jace snorts. “aye, i had noticed.”

you lapse into silence, again, only now you find yourself stealing glances at him. he really is very pretty, you think, though in quite a masculine way. something about the sharp line of his jaw and the curl of his eyelashes keeps drawing your attention, and you suspect you are not being subtle with your admiration in your inebriated state. as you walk by an open window moonlight floods into the hall, sending jace’s profile into sharp relief, and your eyes catch on the smattering of freckles on his smooth skin. something about the pattern makes you think of the stars, and you realise too late that your quick glances have turned to a lingering stare.

“is there something on my face, princess?”

jace’s mockingly innocent words draw your eyes to his. he’s smirking down at you, eyes dancing with amusement, and your cheeks flush. gods, you don’t think you’ve blushed so much in moons compared to the mere hours you’ve spent in his company. the things this man is doing to you — it is unconscionable. you don’t know how much more of this you can take before your resolve breaks.

“i apologise, my prince,” your respond after a beat, teeth biting at your lip. “i did not mean to… i was leagues away.”

his eyes darken, mischief fleeing them in favour of flickers of something else as they linger on your mouth, and that damnable heat in your stomach blazes. you want desperately to surge forward and kiss him, or for him to take you in his hands and kiss you. you just want, and ache, and burn. and it’s too much, far too much for your wine-addled brain to process, but you know if anyone was to happen upon you in this corridor, starting at him with your mouth parted and your breaths shuddering through your lungs, there will be consequences.

“we should— we are almost at my chambers.” your words are stumbling, loud in the sudden quiet that had descended over the pair of you, and jace startles a little, eyes darting away from yours as your stomach plummets. gods, what are you doing? staring at him in such a way? he must think you a simple-minded fool, gaping at him for the sake of a few freckles. you step away from him, rubbing your arm as you turn your eyes to stare intently at your feet instead. “i can make it the rest of the way from here. you should return to the feast.”

jace is quiet for a long moment and you peek up at him to see him watching you with an indecipherable expression for a charged breath before nodding slowly and taking a step away.

“as you wish,” he murmurs, ducking his head in a simple bow. “sweet dreams, princess.”

you stutter out your own farewell, half-convinced you’ll be dreaming of nothing but his hands and his mouth this night, before turning and all but fleeing down the hall.

oh, yes. jacaerys is certainly going to be the death of you.

jace spends the next few days at court so entangled in his responsibilities he feels he barely sets eyes upon you.

he and his mother are roped into starting the celebrations in the absence of the king himself. his grandsire’s health is failing, of that there is no doubt, and after enjoying himself a touch too heartily at the welcome feast he requires a few days to recover. he thinks perhaps that’s why these festivities are so important; it’s unlikely the king will make it to his five and fiftieth name day, and almost certainly not his sixtieth. it leaves him with… complicated feelings.

when his grandsire dies, he will no longer be the heir to the heir, but the heir to the iron throne itself. it’s a daunting thought; for all that his mother has seen him well prepared to sit his throne one day, it feels such an impossible task. he doesn’t understand how he’s ever supposed to be ready for such a thing.

the thought rises, unbidden, that it would be easier with you by his side. with your kind heart but sharp mind, you’d make a fine queen. he finds himself daydreaming of it still and scolding himself all the while for acting the green boy, and yet unable to stop. it’s as if his every thought leads back to you in some way or another — he sees a flower and wonders if you’d like the smell of it, or sees a dress and thinks of how much lovelier it would look on you. at night he indulges in more sensual wonderings, and he swears he’s not felt the urge to touch himself so much since he was a boy of five and ten just starting to discover the pleasures the touch of another can bring.

for all that you’d appeared to reject him the night of the welcome feast, he finds himself certain you desire him just as he does you. in fact, he fancies it’s that very desire that had led to you fleeing his company and avoiding him in the days after.

because you are avoiding him.

yes, he is busy with the festivities and you are perhaps equally so. but he does not think it’s busyness that drives you to seek conversation with absolutely anyone else when he looks for your company, and it is not busyness that has you clinging to aemond’s side so fiercely either. you know he won’t approach you when you’re with your brother, knowing how it hurts you to see them trade barbs and knowing himself well enough to know he will not be able to bite back his rancour if aemond says a word about his father.

jace is not an idiot. he knows what people say about him, the words they barely bother to whisper behind their hands about who his true sire is. he has complicated feelings about that, too, but it all boils down to one simple thing: he is his mother’s son. she is heir to the king, and he is her heir. for him, that’s all that can matter.

he knows it’s all that matters to you, too. for all that your brothers had spit bastard at him for as long as he can remember, you’ve never done so. you’ve never looked at him differently for the rumours of his birth, and it’s just one thing among many he treasures about you.

perhaps it’s foolish, to cling to these childhood feelings so tightly, but he cannot let the idea of the two of you together go. he knows luke has noticed how he stares after you in longing, since his brother has never been shy about teasing him relentlessly. he thinks his mother has noticed, too, from the few carefully inane comments she’s made about betrothals and duty. 

he supposes an argument could be made for the fact that with the years without contact between you, he doesn’t really know you anymore, not as he once did, but he doesn’t feel it matters. he can learn anything new about you and will in fact do so joyfully, but the important things? the things that speak to who you are at your core? jace has always known those, has always felt connected to you in a way he never has with another, and he loves you now just as he did as a boy. 

it would be easier in a way if he felt sure you didn’t reciprocate his feelings. at least then he could try and move on from them, put to bed his endless wonderings of you. but for as often as he turns his head to look at you, he finds you looking away from your own watching of him. the few, brief interactions he has with you over the next few days feel loaded, the desire and affection between you a palpable thing, and he’s tiring of pretending there’s nothing there anymore.

he’s tired of pretending he doesn’t miss you.

so, at the halfway point of the celebrations when there’s another, larger feast held with plenty of chances for dancing and sneaking away into dark corners, he makes it a point to keep an eye on you. the moment he spots you, finally alone, he beelines for you. your attention is on your necklace, readjusting the pendant that rests on your chest, and he cannot help but let his gaze linger on the swell of your breasts as he approaches. he’s found himself staring at your chest more often than is wholly appropriate over the last few days, but then he knows his own weaknesses when it comes to a woman’s form.

“p-prince jacaerys,” you greet weakly when you look up from your necklace, hands smoothing over the skirts of your dress. your eyes dart about the room as if seeking a rescue from someone, and he tries not to feel how such a response to his presence stings. “how are you enjoying the feast?”

“well enough,” he returns, echoing the words you’d spoke to him days ago. gods, has it only been days since that conversation? it feels like an age, and he has felt more distant from you in these passing moments than he is in your years apart.

“that is… good.” your fingers twist around each other, teeth catching on your bottom lip, and he has to swallow back the sudden rush of desire to be the one nipping at the pouting flesh.

“would you do me the honour of a dance, princess?”

his request startles you, eyes widening as your fingers drop back to your side in surprise. he thinks for a wild moment that you’ll say no, make some excuse to remove yourself from him, and he feels himself bracing for the rejection. but you hesitate, searching his face, and whatever you find there seems to soften something in you as you nod.

“of course.” you offer him your hand, an unsure smile on your face.

he takes it with relief, trying not to react at the sensation of your hand in his own. he was right in thinking your hands are smooth, but as he leads you to the dance floor and your fingers slide over his palm he feels the drag of callouses as he’d expected. it pulls him back into that heated imagining of before for a moment, and he has to shake his head slightly to keep himself from losing his wits.

you stay quiet as he guides you into position, dainty hand resting on his shoulder as he places his own at your hip. he leads you through the first few steps in quiet, too, taking the moment to enjoy having you in his arms, having you close. but he realises after a silent minute that you’re obviously not going to say anything, and even as he looks beseechingly at you appear to avoid meeting his eyes.

“you’ve been avoiding me,” he speaks lowly, watching you carefully as you stare purposefully at the bridge of his nose instead of his eyes.

your eyes flicker away and back and then away again, fingers tightening around his own as he leads you through the steps of the dance effortlessly. “aye,” you admit quietly. “i have been.”

“why?” he doesn’t mean to sound so desperate nor so accusing, but the quiet hurt that your absence has caused him surges forth before jace can stop it.

you finally meet his gaze, eyes helpless and wanting and aching, and his stomach twists at the sight of your conflicted expression.

“i— jace, i can’t.” your voice cracks with the weight of your emotion and without thinking he pulls you closer, arm wrapping tight around your waist to provide you some semblance of comfort. “i can’t. not here, please.”

wordlessly he alters the steps of the dance, drawing you with precision through the crowd of dancers until you come to one of the balconies. it’s blessedly empty of anyone else, and as soon as you realise it some tension seems to shake loose of you.

you step out of his grip slowly, almost reluctantly, and walk to the railing, palms splaying on the stone. he joins you after the barest hesitation, drinking you in as you stare out at the courtyard and beyond. he notices how tightly you grip the banister, colour leeching from you knuckles with the strength of your grip, and almost without thinking jace rests his hand beside your own, pinkie fingers brushing. the touch seems to release something in you and he hears how your breath shudders before you speak.

“i embarrassed myself on the night of the welcome feast,” you confess miserably. “i drank too much, and the way that i behaved— staring at you in that way— it was not becoming behaviour of a princess, nor of a, a friend. i did not wish to make you uncomfortable again, so i thought it best i keep my distance from you.”

he blinks in surprise. “uncomfortable?” the mere idea of such a thing is maddening. he recalls the sight of you before him, lips parted and oh so kissable as you’d stared at him with such intention it had set him ablaze. how in the name of the gods can you think he found such a thing uncomfortable? “princess, i can assure you, the only feeling i took from your admiration is delight.”

your head snaps around, eyes finally meeting his own again, and he shakes his head in bemusement at the sight of your desperate hope. “truly? you do not jest?”

he resists the urge to chuckle, knowing you’ll take any kind of laughter, no matter how well meaning, poorly. instead he reaches for you, grasps your hands in his own and tries not to bask in the way you lean into him as he steps recklessly into your space. he feels your trembling breaths puff against his jaw as he ducks his head to stare intently into your eyes, and if he were a weaker man jace thinks he’d be on his knees in prostration for you in that very moment.

“surely you must know how i feel for you?” he murmurs, tracking the way the flush in your cheeks travels down your neck and onto your chest with greedy eyes. “how desperately i adore you?”

“jacaerys—.” you huff, shaking your head in denial for all that with every breath you take you sway ever closer to him. “we hardly know each other anymore. i won’t deny there is, is a yearning between us, mayhaps, but you cannot claim to adore me when you know me not. it’s been years since—"

“—do you think time matters?” he talks over you, strong in his conviction that you and he share a bond that transcends time or distance or duty. “that any distance between us could change what i know in my bones? i loved you before i had a name for it. i loved you when we were children and, yes, i love you again now. mayhaps i don’t know your favourite sweet or if you prefer to watch the sun rise or set, but i know you. i know who you are, princess, for all that i might no longer know the rest of it. i know your good heart, your quick mind and i know that i love you.” he hesitates, drinks in the dawning, open wonder on your face, and then adds, “and i think you might love me just the same.”

you sigh out his name sweetly, fingers tangling with his own as he squeezes your hands tenderly. you tilt your chin towards him as your eyes flutter shut. his nose slides against your own as you turn just so to the side, and your mouth is so close. he could kiss you, right now, and he knows that you would not pull away. but he’s too aware of the noise of the feast, the crowd of people that at any moment could find you in a compromising position.

he wants you, gods does he want you, but he will not ruin your reputation, will not sully your virtue for the sake of a stolen kiss on a balcony when he desires no less than forever with you.

“i will not push you,” he murmurs against your lips, breathing the air right from your lungs as he presses his forehead to yours for just a moment. “if you do not want this — if you do not return my feelings — i won’t push you nor pursue you. i hold too great a respect for you for that.” he cradles your jaw, thumb dragging at the corner of your mouth, and he glories in the way you shudder at his touch. with an unsteady breath he separates himself from you, hands clenching into fists at his side in an effort not to immediately reach for you again.

“but if you decide you want me as i want you, that you love me as ardently as i you, then my chambers will be unguarded and unlocked for you.” he sketches a bow, heart thundering in his chest as you stare at him in wordless shock. “i hope to see you later tonight, my princess.”

you have no chance to respond before jace leaves you standing on the balcony.

he leaves you with your mind swirling, one thought after another coming so quickly you have no hope in processing them. you’re glad to be outside, at least, the cool breeze helping soothe the heat that blazes through your veins as you press your hand over your racing heart. you don’t know what to think, what to feel, what to do. all you can think about is jace, earnest and honest and in love with you.

he’s in love with you (!).

it’s too quick. too much time has passed with too little contact. in the years since he left court you’ve grown into new people, people who for all intents and purposes are strangers to each other. the lust is there, there’s no point in denying that with how your body warms at the smallest glance from him. and that old familiarity that blossomed as friendship as children and now into easy companionship as adults, that remains as it always has. and mayhaps you’ve thought to yourself, in the dark quiet of the night, that you’ll surely love him once more. that to know him any better at all is to love him again, because how can you know him and not love him?

but there’s been years and leagues between you for so long. time and distance have their ways of changing a heart, and he might say it doesn’t matter but it does. it does.

only it doesn’t, not at all, because giddiness is bubbling up in you so sudden that you cannot fight it, a helpless laugh escaping you as you press your hand over your mouth in unabashed amazement. your brave prince, plunging headfirst into the long-unspoken feelings between you. it incites you to act, drives you back into the hall where you catch aegon for long enough to tell him you’re retiring for the night before escaping into the quiet corridors.

you feel like your heart is going to burst in your chest, nerves and excitement and awe twisting together inside of you until you feel like you might vibrate out of your own skin. the walk to jace’s chambers is a haze, and in the morning you expect you’ll panic, wonder if anyone saw you walking so shamelessly towards the prince’s rooms. but now, in this moment, all you can think of is how fervently you want him, how guilelessly you love him.

the knock on his door — unguarded, as he had promised — echoes loudly in the silent corridor. you can hear your own heartbeat thundering in your ears as you wait for him to answer, and when he finally does he takes your breath away.

he’s shed his doublet and sword belt, standing in only his breeches and a billowing off-white tunic. the ties are loose on his neck and you’re entranced by the peek of tanned skin there, the freckles you can see disappearing beneath the shirt. he says your name, once, and your eyes snap back to him in time to see the relief and wonder coalesce into smouldering fire.

he curls his fingers around your wrist, thumb swiping over the delicate skin in a way that makes you shiver, and he uses the hold to wordlessly tug you into his chambers. you step into the space, eyes darting from the large bed to the roaring fire and back to the bed again as he locks the doors behind you.

you are finally, blissfully, alone.

you feel his presence behind you, heat and woodsmoke radiating from him as you turn to face him. something in your chest loosens at the blatant awe in his amber eyes, like liquid gold in the light of the flames, and before you can pause to think you’re speaking, your feelings escaping you in a flood.

“i shouldn’t be here,” you say shamelessly. “i know my being here is—. i shouldn’t be here. but i couldn’t not be, jace, not when you left without giving me a chance to tell you how i feel. because, gods, of course i feel for you. it’s unreasonable, insensible— there’s so much about each other we just don’t know anymore.” you shake your head, smiling at him wide and helpless and hopelessly, hopelessly in love with him. “but despite all the rationality in the world, all the good sense — despite knowing the trouble this is sure to bring us — i am completely and utterly in love with you, jacaerys velaryon.”

he kisses you, then, surges into your space and cups your cheeks and slots his mouth so sweetly against yours. you gasp into his lips as he kisses you deliberate, slow and tender in a way that makes your chest ache. your arms loop around his neck, pulling him as close as you can as his own arms wrap around your waist. your noses bump and your teeth clash in your eagerness and it’s still glorious, it’s the best kiss you’ve ever experienced because it’s him.

it’s always been him.

you part after a few minutes, remaining close together as he runs his hand through your hair before cradling your face once more. “tell me again,” he whispers against your mouth, breathing your breath.

“i love you,” you say, smiling so wide it makes your cheeks ache. “i love you, i love you, i lo—”

he kisses you again, a quick press of his mouth against your this time, and then he’s laughing softly as his golden eyes shine down at you. “i have loved you forever,” he tells you, indulgent and affectionate as his thumb traces over your cheek. “i will love you forever, my princess.”

he draws you closer still, holds you tightly against him but far enough that he can drink you in, and for long moments you simply bask in the presence of each other, of this slow unfurling of happiness in your heart. this close to him, you can once again see the freckles dotted across his face. without even thinking of it your hand rises, and with butterfly-gentle fingers you trace a path over the constellations mapped on sun-kissed skin. jace sighs softly with your touch, dark lashes fluttering closed as his lips part.

“iksā sīr gevie [you are so beautiful],” you murmur, slipping into high valyrian in the quiet of his chambers.

he exhales shakily, breath hitching in his chest as your fingers brush gently over his eyelids, the slope of his nose, the furrow of his brow. you want to remember him like this forever – bathed in the soft firelight, trembling beneath your tender touch, wholly and entirely yours.

“ñuha dārilaros [my princess],” he breathes, and hearing him speak possessively of you in your mother tongue ignites something within you so suddenly you cannot fight it.

arousal roars to life, deep in your belly, and you are helpless but to do anything but lean forward and press your lips to his once more. jace meets you just as greedily, hands gripping tightly to the flesh of your hips as he hauls you closer until your chests press together. your hand moves from his face to fist in his hair, tugging at his curls until he whines against your lips. he kisses you deep and open mouthed and filthy, tongue sliding against yours so deliciously that you can feel heat pulse between your legs.

one of his hands comes up to tangle in your hair, pulling until your head is tilted back. he trails hot, wet kisses along your neck and you hiss at the sensation, pressing his head closer to your skin. you feel him smirk against you before he mouths at your pulse point, teeth nipping just enough to send a thrill of pain and pleasure through you.

“jace,” you moan, grinding against him shamelessly as he sucks a bruise into the sensitive skin of your throat. you want him so fiercely it makes you reckless, makes you insatiable as the hand not buried in his curls drags down his back to grip at his ass. he groans against you, your name spilling from his lips so deep and husky that you want to do whatever you can to make him say it like that again and again and again.

“this is— we shouldn’t,” he says into your skin. he pushes at the shoulder of your dress to expose more of your bare skin to his greedy eyes, lips trailing the path his fingers have taken. “we should wait until we—. if anyone knew of this—”

“—no one will know,” you assure him, fingers flexing into the taut skin of his ass to drive him closer to you.

“i don’t want to, to besmirch your honour.” even as he speaks he’s dragging his tongue against your collarbone, chasing a bead of sweat down to the swell of your chest.

“fuck my honour,” you burst out, and your language has him moaning. you hitch your leg around his waist and his hand drops instantly to grip you at the knee, pulling you just so until the hard length of him is grinding deliciously against your core. you can’t think, can’t breathe, for wanting him. his touch and his scent and his taste consumes you, inflames you, and you care for nothing but the feel of him against you.

he pulls away from your chest, mouth swollen and pupils blown as he pants hotly. he presses his forehead to yours, squeezing your hip to still you as you shamelessly try to rub yourself against him. “this will bring ruin to you if it gets out, do you understand? it would break me to be the cause of such a thing.”

his desperation makes you hesitate, something about the fierce tone breaking into the haze of lust that consumes you. you take a moment to look at him, and you know with certainty that if you ask him to stop right this second he will.

but you don’t want him to stop. you’ve never wanted anything less.

“jace.” you cup his cheek, thumb dragging over his bottom lip as you force him to keep your gaze. “i know the risks of this as well as anyone.” you lean in closer, your nose sliding against his before you tilt your head to pepper soft, deliberate kisses along his jaw, the corner of his mouth. “i love you.” he sighs softly in pleasure before turning his head to capture your mouth again, and this kiss is a softer, slower thing.

when you break apart, you stare deeply into his eyes, making sure he can see the truth of your words. the heat in his amber eyes threatens to splinter you to pieces as you swallow thickly, almost overwhelmed once more with your desire for him.

“i am yours, jacaerys velaryon,” you say steadily. “no matter what happens from here— i belong to you.”

it’s like a dam breaks in him. his hands are suddenly everywhere as his mouth devours yours relentlessly, leaving you gasping and arching into his touch. he backs you towards his bed as his hands fist in your skirts, bunching the material up to your hips. he breaks from your mouth long enough to tug your dress over your head, leaving you in your thin small clothes, and despite the sweltering heat of the room your nipples harden beneath the sheer material.

“look at you, pretty thing,” he says reverentially, the weight of his heated gaze tangible as he stares at your heaving chest. “is this all for me?”

“yes,” you hiss, head tilting back as he trails kisses down the column of your throat. “all for you, jace. only ever for you.”

he groans at your words, deft fingers making quick work of the complicated stays of the brassiere, and when the material falls from you he stares for a long moment as if transfixed by the sight of your bare breasts. it makes you smug, knowing that those times you’ve caught his eyes lingering on your chest haven’t just been in your imagination.

“you are perfect,” he murmurs worshipfully, large hand cupping the side of your breast tenderly. “such a perfect girl for me.”

his thumb sweeps over your nipple, featherlight at first before returning more firmly when you sigh and lean into his touch. his other hand grips your hip once more, pulling you close to him as he lavishes more attention on your neck. he nips and kisses his way down your throat, your shoulder, the swell of your breast until he’s hunched slightly in front of you, sucking bruises into the tender skin of your chest.

“jacaerys, please.” you know not what you’re pleading for, only that you need something, and it’s as if he can read your mind as his mouth closes over your nipple. his hand, now free, gropes at your other breast as his tongue swirls tight circles around your nipple and your head tips back with a moan. it’s somehow enough and yet not, your hips bucking aimlessly as heat and slick pools between your legs, and you crave.

“more, please,” you beg shamelessly.

jace drops to the floor in response and the sight of him on his knees for you has your head spinning. he presses open mouthed kisses to the soft skin of your abdomen, bites gently at your hip as his hands slide steadily up your legs. you tremble beneath his careful ministrations, and he murmurs wordless assurances into your sweat-slick skin.

he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your smalls, dragging them agonisingly slowly down your legs until you can step out of them. standing completely bare before him you expect to find yourself shy, but the way jace looks at you rapturously has liquid heat licking through your veins instead.

he leaves lingering kisses on your thigh and down your leg, and when his mouth brushes over the tender skin at the back of your knee you feel them buckle. he huffs a gentle laugh against you, warm hands cradling your waist as he urges you to sit back on the bed. you do so unsteadily, planting your hands against the soft feather mattress and watching him with intent ardour.

he nudges your legs apart and settles between them, his shoulders spreading you wide around him and you release a soft breath as his thumbs rub soothing circles into your thighs. “let me take care of you, my princess,” he pleads, eyes wide and soft and beseeching as he gazes up at you. you nod hesitantly, not wholly sure what he intends, but then his eyes finally drop to your core and darken so quickly it makes your mouth dry.

“gods, look at you.” he drags a finger through your folds and your head cants back, a whine escaping you at the touch. “you’re so wet for me, love. so gorgeous.” he brings his finger to his mouth, licking it clean of your slick and it has your mouth dropping open because he’s obscene, you think. he’s glorious.

“you taste so good,” he says, his voice so rough with arousal it makes you shiver. “wanna taste more of you.”

with no more warning that that, he licks a deliberate strip along your slit before circling his tongue over your clit. your hand shoots to his hair, tangling in the dark curls as he feasts on you. his name falls from your lips over and over again like a prayer as he laps at your core, tongue pressing deliciously inside you. you grind wantonly against his mouth, panting as he laves at your cunt.

your pleasure climbs sharply, rising so high you’re helpless to resist the way your stomach tightens. as if sensing your approaching high jace shifts his focus to your pulsing clit, flicking his tongue rapidly over the bundle of nerves.

“jace, gods, feels so good,” you gasp out, fingers tightening in his curls to press his head impossibly closer. “please don’t stop, ‘m so close—”

he sucks harshly on your pearl, ever so carefully dragging his teeth over the sensitive flesh, and you fall to pieces as that tightly wound ball in your stomach snaps. he coaxes you through the trembling release, gentling his attention on you to drag out your pleasure until you’re squirming away from him in sensitivity. when he pulls away from your core his face is shining with your slick and the sight makes you feel feral. you bend to reach him and he presses up to meet you, kissing you hot and messy as you drink the taste of yourself from his mouth.

“you did so well for me, my princess,” he pants into your mouth as he crowds you onto the bed and the praise blooms hot in your chest. “need you to be good for me a little longer, okay? need to prepare you.”

you whimper, capturing his mouth in another sloppy kiss and nipping thoughtlessly at his lips as he settles between your legs. you can feel the heavy length of him against your hip, kept from you by his breeches, and you’re suddenly insensible with desire to see more of his skin. you tug wordlessly at the hem of his tunic, pulling it free from his trousers, and with a huff of fond amusement he separates from you to pull it over his head and toss it aside.

you drink in the exposed planes of his chest, leaning up to drag your tongue from freckle to freckle along his collarbone, and jace groans out your name in response. you follow the map of constellations down his chest, pressing kisses and gentle bites to the skin until you come to one of his nipples. hesitantly you flick your tongue out, curl it around the puckered skin just as jace had done to you earlier.

“fuck,” he hisses, fingers clenching in the sheets as his arms tremble with the strain of keeping himself steady above you.

emboldened by his response you lavish the pebbled bud with attention, switching to the other when the fancy takes you, until jace is shuddering with desire and pushing your shoulders back into the bed. he swallows your protests with a flurry of kisses as his fingers trail down your chest, your abdomen until he reaches the heat between your legs. he presses a finger against you again and you arch into the touch, tossing your head back into the pillows.

“i want you so badly,” he confesses in a whisper as he sucks another bruise into your neck.

“yes,” you respond senselessly, hips bucking up to meet the slow stroke of his finger. “want you, jace, please.”

“i need to prepare you first, love,” he tells you again and you whine in displeasure. “i don’t wish to hurt you, so i need to get you ready for me.”

you’ve heard that it can hurt, what happens in bed between a man and a woman. you can’t comprehend the idea with how good you feel right now, how good he’s made you feel already, but you nod in acquiescence at jace’s stubborn expression and he beams down at you.

“that’s my good girl,” he utters affectionately, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

the finger that’s been sliding leisurely against you shifts, pressing inside with a familiar stretch. you’ve touched yourself before, explored what pleasure you can draw from your own body in the late of the night. you don’t know if it’s different because it’s the angle or just because it’s jace, but the feeling of his finger pumping into you is so much better than anything you’ve managed with your own clumsy digits and you moan with the pleasure of it.

“you’re so tight,” he says in amazement, burning gold eyes staring down at you worshipfully. “can’t wait to be inside you, my princess.”

you moan at his filthy words, hips bucking into his touch as he presses a second finger into you. this one pinches more, makes it almost uncomfortable until jace starts to rub slow circles over your clit with his thumb. any discomfort melts into liquid pleasure as he mouths at your neck once more, fingers crooking inside of you just so until stars burst behind your eyes.

“fuck, jacaerys—”

he shushes you softly even as his eyes gleam with smug pride. he picks up the pace, now, fucking you with his fingers as your pleasure starts to climb once more. just when you start to feel like you can’t take it anymore he slides a third finger in, the stetch burning deliciously this time, and you come apart on his fingers with a strangled moan of his name. he doesn’t relent this time, though, even when you writhe helplessly beneath him; he just chases another release for you without giving you a chance to recover, and the thrill rises so quickly it almost makes it a little hard to breathe.

“just one more,” he soothes as you whine, pressing delicate kisses to the corner of your mouth as he drives his fingers into you relentlessly. “you’re doing so well. just one more for me.”

your third climax hits you so hard your back bows up from the bed, mouth parting in a silent cry of pleasure as jace coaxes you through it before pulling his fingers from you. you ache at the loss, mewling your displeasure as your cunt clenches around nothing. he breathes a laugh at your impatience, kissing you so sweetly in such contrast to the delicious heat between you that it almost makes you weep.

with shaking hands you reach for the ties of his breaches, fumbling with the laces while he kisses you languidly. you make a triumphant little noise when you finally untie them and he smiles at you, adoring and soft and yet somehow feverishly aroused as you push the leather trousers down his hips. he helps you the rest of the way, kicking them off before returning to hover over you.

your hands brush his abdomen as you reach for him, fingers curling gently around the hard line of his cock, and he realises a shuddering breath in response. he watches you intently as you stare at his arousal, fascinated by the way your fingers barely close around the thick girth of him. he’s going to fill you so well, you realise, and you bite your lip as your core clenches again. the tip of him is leaking fluid, and you drag your hand up his cock to swipe your thumb over the head.

jace moans at the movement, so you do it again and again, watching in inflamed curiosity at the way his stomach contracts as he thrusts into your hand, the wet noise of it making you flush down to your toes as desire sparks in your core. his hand covers your own abruptly, stopping your exploration, and you pout up at him as he fixes you with a blazing stare.

“if you keep doing that, i’m not going to last,” he says, voice shaking with the weight of his desire.

“fine.”

you huff, pretending at annoyance even as you eagerly lie back and spread your legs for him. you fix him with an expectant look, raising an eyebrow, and he chuckles fondly as he settles himself between your legs once more. you’re not expecting the velvet heat of him dragging against you and you gasp at the sensation, grinding against him as he thrusts shallowly against you.

“are you ready for me, love?” he checks, cradling your face in his hands as his thumb rubs over your jaw.

you turn to press a kiss against his palm, near overwhelmed with your love and affection for this man. “yes,” you say simply, and it’s all the permission he needs as he ducks down to kiss you unhurriedly.

his head catches at your opening on the next thrust, and with the slightest shift of your hips he’s pressing inside of you. the stretch of him burns, pinches, but just as he did with his fingers, he worms his hand between your bodies to drag circles over your clit. you do your best to relax, keeping your eyes fixed on his golden stare as he slides into you, agonisingly slow.

the whole while he keeps up a litany of praise, calling you good and precious and perfect as sweat beads along his forehead. when he’s finally fully sheathed inside you he stills his movements, kisses you hard and wanting as he thumbs at your pearl, and when you’re ready you tilt your hips. the stretch of him burns, still, but in a way that sets your skin alight as you cling to his shoulders.

he moans your name like a prayer, drawing away from you until the tip of his cock catches at your entrance once more, and this time when he sinks back in your eyes roll back into your head. he feels so good, stretching and filling you so completely that you’ve no room to think, to breathe, to do anything but take it as he thrusts into you. he buries his head in your neck, resting on his forearms as he plunges into you again and again and again, and between your own choked breaths and the sounds of skin against skin, you hear him muttering in high valyrian.

“sīr sȳz syt nyke, sīr ȳrda, sīr lōz. vēttan syt nyke. ñuha dārilaros, mirre ñuhon [so good for me, so tight, so wet. made for me. my princess, all mine].”

it drives you wild, his voice and his words and hearing him speak in valyrian combined with the exquisite torture of the slow drag of his cock inside you. it’s too much, not enough, and leaves you with nothing but the need to feel as much of him as you possibly can. your hands drag up and down his back, fingernails leaving raised red lines in their wake as you seek to be as close to him as you can bear.

“more, jace, gods, please, i need—”

he cuts you off with a hard thrust, your breath punching out of your lungs as he starts to drive into you harder and faster. it’s so good, so fucking good, but still not quite enough and you whine, seeking something you’re not sure you know how to verbalise.

“whatever you need, love. i’ll give you whatever you need.”

understanding your need even when you don’t, jacaerys rears up, grips your legs and presses your knees to your chest before bearing down on you. like this he reaches so deep it hurts in the most unbearably, searingly pleasurable way. and it’s perfect, exactly what you needed, feeling him so far inside you that it soothes you and ignites you and makes you ache all at once.

“y’feel so good,” you manage to slur out, head lolling as you lose yourself to the feel of him taking you apart so expertly. “so— fuck— so deep. so good, jace, so good.”

jace groans your name, pounding into you so hard and so deep that it’s unconscionable, has your eyes rolling back into your head as your hips buck up to meet him recklessly. your peak approaches again, searing heat blazing through you as you inch closer to another climax, and all you can do is whine and moan as he fills you over and over again. he starts to lose the thread of his rhythm as you clench around him, valyrian and common tongue mixing senselessly as praise spills from his lips.

“avy jorrāelan [i love you] my perfect girl, gūrogon nyke sīr sȳrī [take me so well], can’t get enough of you, hells, i love you, ao sagon ñuhon [you’re mine], my love, my princess, my queen, ñuha ābrazȳrys [my wife].”

you come so hard you see stars, walls pulsing around jace’s cock as he curses. he thrusts sloppily into you, chasing his own release and dragging out your own as you keen, nails digging into the skin of his shoulders. he finds completion with a drawn out noise, seed spilling hot and thick inside of you as he lazily pumps his hips two, three more times before collapsing on top of you.

you press absent kisses to his temple, brushing back the sweat-soaked curls from where they’ve matted on his forehead as he shudders against you. you feel lethargic, body aching in the sweetest of ways as you fight to catch your breath. eventually the heavy weight of jace on top of you becomes uncomfortable and you squirm beneath him in protest. with a sigh he slides himself free of you, rolling over onto his back and wrapping an arm around you to pull you with him so that you sprawl over his chest.

you bury your smile into his neck, satisfaction settling bone-deep as his hand runs up and down your back idly. for long moments the two of simply lie together in the quiet, the only sound the rustling of the sheets and the crackle of the dying fire.

“i’ll speak to my mother and the king on the morrow,” he says into the quiet and you raise your head to look at him. he looks serious, amber eyes contemplative as he peers down at you. “i’ll not let another night pass without you as my betrothed.” he smiles at you then, a little crooked as his eyes crinkle, and without thought you reach up to press a lingering kiss to his mouth.

“i love you,” you say, eyes shining with mischief. “ñuha valzȳrys [my husband].”

jace swallows your laugh with another kiss, doing a poor job of hiding his own amusement as his smile presses to yours, and as the candles burn down you let all of your worries and doubts fade.

you love him. he loves you.

there’s nothing else that matters.

[aayakashii]

soooo I wrote this for the art god @devotion-disorder because

1- they're one of my favorite artists ever!!!!!!! And they're someone who portrays yanderes in such a 😙🤌 chef's kiss way that I can't help but admire

2- I am obsessed with their oc kuuya

but if you'd rather I delete it, just let me know!!

Warnings: NSFW, yandere behavior, unhealthy obsession !!! Minors DNI !!!

Part 2 of this fic here <3

The skin on the nape of your neck prickled, making you shiver at the strange sensation.

The steady gaze outside your window was so piercing and unmoving that it could be as sharp as needles nicking your skin.

Although, if you were to be fully honest, it felt more like a knife.

It would be just another night, if it wasn't for the fact that your co-worker lurked outside your house.

"Kuuya", you mouthed his name, just to feel how it moves against your lips, because you could never really say it during daytime without having him spiral headfirst into a meltdown.

Kuuya was a disaster.

He never talked to you.

You would sometimes catch him staring at you during work, which made him blush like an anime schoolgirl, but that was the extent of his interaction with you.

He was a regular employee, didn't stand out much, nor caused problems. He was just... there. Constantly looking exhausted, with his back hunched and in the verge of a mental breakdown.

And you were so attracted to that mess of a man.

Your friends would probably frown and sigh if they knew, but they were also pretty much aware of your type: sickly victorian-looking men, anemic, with extremely dark circles under their eyes, who probably sneeze a lot and shake like chihuahuas.

And, hey, that was Kuuya to a T. How could you not have a crush on him?

You soon realized, however, that he probably had a few screws loose.

It started slow, a few things going missing. First it was a pen, then some of your hair ties, then old post-it notes you had forgotten about, until their absence reminded you of their existence.

These things were inconsequential.

You wouldn't even notice their disappearance, if it wasnt for the fact that one day you saw Kuuya with a fluffy hair tie that looked way too similar to yours to be a coincidence. It even had the same little star charm that yours had.

And then you noticed the pens, carefully placed inside a cup near his computer.

And the erasers, the post-its, the pencils, all the other office appliances that you were pretty sure were yours.

But they weren't, right?

That was just your fertile imagination playing tricks on you.

Right?

One day, just to erase this silly idea from your head – I mean, you were probably just paranoid – you waited until you saw Kuuya take a break from his assignments and make his way to the bathroom.

You observed through the corner of your eyes how he stared at you while making his way to the other side of the office, anxiously shaking your leg as you mentally egged him to hurry up and go to the damn toilet.

As soon as you were sure he was inside and you were out his sight, you bolted towards his desk, earning a few pissed off glances from your other coworkers.

You had to work quickly though, since you didnt know how long he would take to come back. Looking over your shoulder constantly, you opened the drawers under his desk, searching for something and feeling silly all the while (what if you're the crazy paranoic one for real?), until your hands haphazardly touched some papers and you heard the sound of crinkles.

Looking over your shoulder one more time to make sure he wasn't around, you lifted the papers and mouthed a silent "oh." as you saw what was underneath them.

Dozens and dozens of candy wrappers, discarded notes and even more of those old post-its laid organized in what you could say was impeccable fashion, if it wasnt for the fact that it was all trash.

Your trash.

In the back, you saw some plastic bags with questionable contents, but your anxiety was in an all time high and you decided to just put things back were they were and close the drawer.

You had your confirmation. He WAS crazy and you were still paranoid, but at least you were right.

You made way back to your desk and sighed, sitting down.

Conflicted feelings pooled in your gut.

You knew all of that meant that he was indeed crazy and obsessed and potentially dangerous, but also... you couldn't really deny the excitement that made butterflies fly all around in your stomach and the giddy feeling that made your heart race with expectations – of what, you didn't know.

And as these feeling swarmed you, you failed to realize the pair of eyes that were locked tight onto your figure from the very start.

If Kuuya could properly express his feelings, he would be moaning and whining in pure despair.

They saw everything. They saw where he keeps all his treasures he had been collecting for the past months.

But why?! Why did they even think about looking for that? Has Kuuya been acting too obvious? But he made sure he wouldn't be too creepy! Well, at least not as creepy as he truly wanted to be. How was that happening all of a sudden?!

The taste of copper interrupted his mental breakdown and he looked down at his thumb, where tiny droplets of blood appeared after he anxiously chewed it.

"It's okay, it's fine" he kept repeating in his mind, like a mantra. He'd just need to see how you'd act around him after that.

If you stopped interacting with him (even if most of those interactions were just good mornings and good evenings coming from YOU), he would probably just... end it all for once. Or maybe kidnap you so you wouldn't run away. Whatever crossed his mind first.

With his heart beating loud on his chest, Kuuya walked back to his seat and forced himself to work, spreadsheets and numbers flashing on his mind, unnoticed.

All he could think was of your hands rummaging through his drawers.

Oh god, your hands touched his things.

Kuuya exhaled sharply, rubbing his thighs together to alleviate the sudden discomfort in his groin. What would he do if you never even looked at his direction again? Sure, you could even report him to the HR, but not being able to see you was a fate worse than being fired!

His mind tumbled, wandering through every worst scenario possible, and in his despair, he didn't notice it was already time to clock out.

"Good evening, Kuuya." You say as you pass by him, nodding your head, with a tight smile.

'Huh?'

Kuuya stares at nothing in front of him, until the fact that you talked to him registers in his mind.

'HUH?'

You talked to him?

Wait.

Did you really see what was in his drawers? Was he just hallucinating? No, there's no way he was. He saw how your colleagues stared at you when you ran to his table. They SAW you. Just like he did. So you saw everything. And you don't hate him? What the fuck. You don't find him disgusting? What? What the hell.

He didn't understand.

He couldn't understand.

He had to understand.

And so, he led himself towards your house, hiding in the bushes right in front of your bedroom window.

How lucky was he that you didn't live in an apartment building?

He was there to understand you better. Just for that. And it'd be just this time, he swore. Just to see what was up with you.

His breath was ragged and heavy and his cheeks burned red. He bit his bottom lip tightly to keep any moan from escaping as he palmed himself through his pants, while he watched the way you stripped yourself of your work clothes.

Quickly undoing his belt buckle and his pants, he let himself be completely overtaken by pure lust and began pumping his dick mercilessly as he was graced with just a little bit more of your skin, right in front of him.

He saw you sigh as you got rid of your pants and his eyes rolled back, imagining how you'd sound if he was the one taking your clothes off.

Oh, what would he give to be able to jump through your window and grab one of your dirty clothes and get drunk on your scent...

The thought made him buck his hips forward clumsily, and he gritted his teeth, hard.

Well, fuck.

He panted, while he observed the way his cum dripped from the leaves of the bush, and as coherent thoughts started flowing back to his mind, he suddenly hoped he wasn't moving too much to catch your attention.

You hadn't even looked his way, so he was safe, right?

Right?

You rubbed your thighs together as you kept your back turned to the window. The windowpane was open, in order to allow the wind to flow through your bedroom, and due to this little fact, you could hear a faint sound coming from the plants right in front of your window.

A quiet, almost indiscernible (if you weren't paying close attention) plap plap plap sound.

You bit your lip to keep your grin from spreading through your lips.

The dumbass was masturbating! Right there! Right in front of your room!

You sighed, feeling the heat pool in between your legs, but controlled your instinct to pull him out from wherever he was and fuck him silly in your bedroom.

You desired him so fucking much. You thrived in his attention, like a sunflower leaning towards rays of light.

The thing is: while you loved his obsession, you were also deathly afraid that he would lose interest in you as soon as he found out how much you also wanted him.

Much like a cat who discards a prey. Except this cat was wet, sad, pathetic and still, you were ridiculously eager to keep playing dead so he would put his grimy, sticky little paws on you just a little bit more.

How would Kuuya feel, you wondered, if he knew you were as obsessed with him as much as he was with you?

[on-the-clear-blue]

Dead Man's Diner pt 2

Danny had to admit, Lunch Lady was an excellent teacher.

Sure they were blitzing though a cook book thst was more tape and hope the paper, but Danny was for once actually understanding and enjoying being taught.

Cracking an egg into a bowl, Danny held it close while whisking quickly, not fully incorporating the flour in his pancake batter before dumping a good sized dollop on the flat top, smiling from the brief sizzle that he heard.

There was a sudden cacophony sounds from the front of house (which was the dining area? He never knew that before) putting the flat top on low, Danny looked over to where Lunch Lady was floating only to find nothing.

Blinking a bit, Danny wiped his hands off OK his apron as he poked his head out, frowning at the diner car, "What was that..." his words were cut off by one of the blinds slats bending as if pried open, and as he squinted, Danny saw two figures watching from a distance ontop another rail car.

Vigilantes

Danny felt his heart flutter with excitement, while not as cool as maybe Martian Manhunter or StarFire (since y'know...fucking aliens, Space) the Gotham caped community were interesting, if only since Batman and his Flock were Sam's low key obsession, she had even gone out as Robin for multiple Halloweens, and don't even get him started on the fan theories about them all.

Smirking he tapped the bar, allowing thr blinds to snap closed, "Sam is so going to flip that I saw the Birds before her." Letting out a little giggled, Danny quickly swore as he smelt a bit of burning and rushed to flip his pancakes.

---

Tim was, in Dicks opinion, the most concerning member of the family, sure most days he gives of "miserable wet cat" energy but even then Dick had seen his little brother easily take down guys that even Bruce had trouble with.

That wasnt even touching on his um...mental quirks

The less he speaks of the time period between Bruce's and Kons deaths till their eventual return, the better.

Putting down the binoculars, Dick stole a glance over at Red Robin, who was frowning deeply at his wrist computer, scooting a little closer Dick leaned over to see what was happening, "Whatcha do~oing?"

So entranced by what he was reading Tim jumped a little, an elbow flying out to where Dicks face had been a second ago as he turned and glared.

"Don't...! Do that Wing! Ugh..." shaking his head as he let out a huff Tim took his eyes off the small monitor and looked up at the diner car, pointing at it as he spoke scornfuly.

"That place does not exist."

"Like, legally? I am sure Batburger doesn't either-"

"No." Tim said, cutting the older vigilante off, "It doesn't exist physically."

"Timmy..." Dick said as he ran through the protocols for when RedRobin got a little too many insane things in his head.

"Get that look off your face Wing, it really doesn't exist, like..." letting out a sigh, the teen tried to put his words right "Don't look straight at it but a bit to the side so it's to the side of your eye." Pointing to a middle distance a bit away from the diner cart, Dick sent a small frown at his brother but did as he was asked.

"Holy leaping lizards..." Tim, somehow, was right, since when Dick just looked about a few feet away from the diner, it started to waver turning...transparent? And a little blue? But when he looked at it closer it was just a normal, abet run down looking diner.

"Exactly, no need to bench me till Agent A stuffs me full of anti-psychotics!"

"That was one time Tim, and you were having a mental break down."

"I am not lying when I say we killed Santa Claus Dick!"

"Sure Tim...sure"

---

Danny drummed his fingers on the breakfast bar, nursing a cup of coffee as he waited for something to happen.

He knew thst he was being watched, he had a vague idea who was doing the watching, but was starting to get a bit bored waiting for them to get closer.

Pausing mid sip, a grin spread across Danny's lips, "Hey cart? Can you do something that might draw those guys over here? Let's get some customers!"

Some how, Danny's grin only grew at the rumble of the cart, and he xould hav sworn he heard a sound that was a mix between a train horn and a chuckle.

---

Tim shot his brother a stinging glare, swatting at his arm as he blushed, he did every much indeed accidentally killed Santa Claus and took an impromptu trip to Apokolips to give DarkSeid coal.

His next rebuttal to Nightwing was cut off as the diner cart shuddered as if it was in an earthquake before it stilled, and the banner that was across it suddenly gained a new line.

[JUST NOW! VIGILANTES AND HEROS GET ONE FREE SIDE OF FRIES! COME ON IN BEFORE THE OFFER ENDS!]

Tim was silent for a moment, watching the cart to see if there was any more changes before turning to Dick, who had lost the joyful energy that he always seemed to have.

"RR, plans changed, we are going to investigate inside."

Tim gave a sharp nod, his bo staff elongating as he grappled down to the train tracks below, his boots crunching gravel underfoot as he slipped from shadow to shadow, getting closer to Big C's diner.

---

Danny was in the back, flipping through his cook book as he heard a bell ring, jolting up, Danny could see through the service window and see who came in.

He had never met a real hero before, not like the two that had just came in, feeling nervous, Danny fumbled with a small notebook as he came out from the kitchen, grinning at the two Birds.

"Heya! Thanks for coming to Big C's! Names Danny and I am kinda the only one in today, what can I get you both?"

His eyes flickered between the two vigilantes, noticing new things each time he looked at them, like how Red Robin's cape had buttons instead of being sown on, or how Nightwings suit wasn't slick but actually textured.

---

Dick looked at everything he could as he stood in the diners door, it looked like a typical 50s styled mom and pop kinda place, an old radio buzzed with songs of a bygone era while the seats were cracked pink leather vinyl.

He could hear someone moving in the back, resting a hand on his eskrima sticks, Dick stalked further in, it felt real enough...

He could feel Red Robin knock into his back as the person from the back came into view, it was a teen, and holy hell did he look like Bruce Wayne adoption bait, raven hair, blue eyes and a cheesy looking grin.

He couldn't be older than Damian, who had turned 16 a few months ago, the teen was just so...tiny.

Danny, that's the name given to them, and Dick can see it, he looked like a Danny.

Pausing to look to Tim, Dick smiled back at the teen, "Well...can we see a menu?"

[writersdrug]

Training for Two

Chapter 2. Rules

Masterlist

Summary: Simon lays the ground rules and shows you around the house.

Warnings: Simon's email etiquette, very mild cursing, beginnings of obsessive behavior.

Sure enough, Simon had emailed you by Tuesday afternoon. You noticed how... unprofessional it was. Not that he had been rude or obscene, but it was obviously written by someone who never had to write many emails for his career.

here is riley's routine. she likes walks, usually 3 or 4 a day. she eats one scoop in the morning and one at night. she doesn't finish her food all at once, but she'll come back to it. if you're gonna give her more cookies, just two per day. fill water every morning. around the house, if you could just dust and clean up any dog hair, that would be great. let me know if meeting me tomorrow at 0900 for the key works. I ship out thursday. thanks.

Simon.

You chewed your thumb nail, reclining on your couch with a confused expression. Was he irritated with you for some reason? He didn't show it at the interview if he did have any hostile feelings... you reminded yourself that he was a rather gruff man, and maybe that just bled into his written words, too. You rolled your shoulders and started working out your reply.

Hello Simon! Tomorrow works perfect for me, I'll be there by 9 am!

Does Riley have any favorite places she likes to go? Any particular spots or trails she enjoys? Also, are there any rules you have for her, like being on the couch? Is she ok going to the dog park? Lastly, does she take any medications I should be aware of?

See you soon!

You sent the message, sighing and dropping your head back against the arm of the sofa. You were honestly thankful that you'd gotten the job, even if Simon was a rather stiff client. You finally quit your shitty job, and while you did still have babysitting your niece and nephew, you never charged for that - the only time you were "paid" for it was when you took them out somewhere fun, and your sister forced you to accept money for the admission fee.

So this gig fell into your lap at the perfect time. And the fact that you had beat every other person Simon had interviewed made your ego soar. It wouldn't be a bad idea to make a career out of this, you thought.

Your phone dinged - you held it above your face, and saw that Simon had already responded. You sat upright and opened the email.

she only takes aspirin when her leg flares up. no more than twice a day. no favorite trails, we just go around the block a few times. she can sit on the couch, my bed too, but she'll need help getting up. no human food is the only other rule. never took her to a dog park, but if you really want to, that's fine. she's good with other dogs.

Simon.

You frowned. Walking the same block every day, multiple times each day, sounded awful. It wasn't even close to animal neglect, but you couldn't imagine walking the same route every single time. If it didn't drive Riley insane, it certainly would for you.

You read back over the email, your eyes lingering on "if her legs flare up." Simon had never discussed Riley having arthritis with you - and you sincerely hoped that was the reason she had leg pain, and nothing else. You made a mental note to ask him about it tomorrow as you began to write your reply.

Understood. Thanks again!

"Here's the basement." Simon said, leading you down the stairs and into a dullish room. It had a cheaply-manufactured desk, what appeared to be a dining chair (not matching the dining set upstairs), a stuffed bookshelf, and some cardboard boxes filled with paper. A fan stood in the far corner, and next to it was the washing room. Much like what he had shown you of the rest of the house, it was bland and drab.

You looked around, letting out a polite noise of approval. Truth be told, Simon's life seemed awfully boring to you. Your mother had always told you that military men were always overly practical, in more than just home decor. They never cared much for the environment around them, as long as there was no mold, or anything similar. But you had never expected it to be so brutally true.

You knew he had a life outside of his home - from the way he described it, he was usually deployed more often than he was in his own home country. But you wondered - what did he do for fun, besides watch the telly? Did he have friends, and were they all like him? Any hobbies?

"If for whatever reason y' need to clean up a stain, you can find solution in there." He said, pointing to the washer room. "Other than that, nothin' much to see down 'ere."

You followed him as he trudged back up the stairs. Riley was sat upright on the floor, watching you and Simon move about the house with an observant expression.

"The only other things I'll ask you to do is hoover n' dust when it looks like it needs it." He said, leaning against the kitchen counter. "There really isn't much else t' do; of course, if you do see anything that needs fixin' you can always text me." He rolled his head from side to side, wincing as he worked out a crick in his neck. "Might not answer immediately, but I'll see it."

You nodded, standing in the walkway of the kitchen. Even with him leaning against the counter, muscles hidden under his sweatshirt, he was huge. For a brief moment, you imagined what he looked like on the field, dressed in his uniform and holding a gun - but you quickly shooed the thought from your mind before it had the chance to latch on and fester. "Gotcha. And just so I know, do you let Riley sleep with you?"

Simon paused in confusion before he responded. "Come again?"

"Like- you know, if I crash on the couch, is she allowed up with me?" You said, shifting your weight. You couldn't quite tell if Simon was irked by your question, or if he was genuinely confused.

He paused again. "Uh, yea, that's fine. If y' don't mind waking up covered in 'er slobber."

You laughed. "Nah, I'm used to it. A little drool never bothered me. Although, if I do need to wash up, am I alright to use the shower? Or would you rather I use my own back at my flat?"

Suddenly, it clicked in Simon's head. You were planning on sleeping at his house.

He had assumed you would just stop by for walks and meals - he didn't expect you to actually live here while he was gone, and he wasn't sure how it made him feel. He'd never had anyone else spend the night. Hell, no one ever visited, besides the rare occasions of the rest of the 141 stopping by. Even then, they never stayed for longer than a conversation or two.

But, once he took a second to think about it, he realized it might be better if you did stay - at least, while he was on missions. Riley would be bored out of her mind if she was alone that long, especially after spending the past several weeks with Simon constantly there. It would be good for someone to be there when he wasn't, and you seemed like you would be the best person for that, of course.

"Sure, 's fine." He said, rubbing the back of his head. "Just don't touch my shit in there."

"Don't worry about that..." You said quietly, "catch me dead and cold before I touch a 3-in-1 anything."

He chuckled and rolled his eyes. It was refreshing that you could handle his gruffness - most people treated him like a landmine, never wanting to say the wrong thing and set him off. You seemed to have taken life by the horns, like you weren't afraid to bite back at someone. He wondered if that was all for show, or if you really would snap back if he was to test you...

He pushed himself off the counter and reached into the drawer behind him, pulling out a spare key. He walked over to you and held it out. You were just about to take it, when he suddenly yanked it back.

You faltered. "Sorry...?"

"You lose this key..." Simon began lowly, "n' I'll frame you for murder. Understood?"

You gaped, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He didn't really mean that... did he? You waited for him to laugh and say he was just joking... but he never did. His eyes bored into yours so intensely, making you shiver, as he waited for you to answer.

"Y-yes, sir. Understood." You said, voice wavering a bit.

He grunted in satisfaction, then handed you the key. You let out the breath you had been holding, then cautiously took the key, before immediately attaching it to your lanyard. You didn't want to take any chances at losing it - not after Simon's threat. You took a deep breath and smiled at him, trying to dust the exchange off of your shoulders.

"You can come 'round tomorrow after o' nine hundred, I'll be out by then." He said, turning sideways to moce past you and heading towards the door. You followed behind and rubbed Riley's head when you passed her; she let out a contented sound.

"Feel free t' use the kitchen if you'll be stayin' overnight." He opened the door for you and leaned against it.

"Will do, thank you!" You chirped, hovering on the landing outside of his house, right were you were two days ago. "Thank you for showing me around - good luck on your- mission- deployment, thingamajig!"

He huffed. "Promise I will, luv."

Your spine tingled in response to his comment. Get it together, don't get your knickers in a twist over a client. You thought. You straightened your posture and cleared your throat.

"Well, see you around!" You said with a smile, then hopped down the steps to your car.

Simon waved, taking a moment to watch you pull out of his driveway. He shut the door and leaned back against it, exhaling slowly through his nostrils.

He was an observant man - he had to be, with his occupation. Your reaction to being called "luv" didn't fly over his head. And it's not like Simon didn't know the effect he had on women... he knew how he looked, how he presented himself, and he saw the reactions it got him.

But with you, something felt different. He saw your reaction, and a part of him wanted to chase after it. To see what you would do if he continued to apply pressure to your weak spots. Would you blush? Would you call him out? Would you drop the gig altogether?

He thought about how easily the word "sir" had rolled off of your tongue. He thought about how you would look, all tuckered out on his couch, donned in whatever pajamas you decided to wear, your face peaceful and expression soft as you slept - he imagined you in his shower, the room filled with warm steam and the scent of your shampoo, water hitting your skin as you-

Riley barked, making Simon jolt where he stood. She stared at him, ears turned to the side as she whined. She could always tell when he began to dissociate, and knew just as much as he did that it wasn't a good sign.

Simon sighed, running a hand down his face. "Get it together, fuckin' creep." He muttered to himself. "I need a bloody hobby, f' Christ's sake..."

He blamed it on the upcoming mission. He would typically stress about it beforehand, and if there was anything else that could occupy his mind, he would fixate on it. Right now, unfortunately, you were the victim. But he buried it deep down into his subconscious - it wasn't fair to you.

He pushed himself off of the door and headed towards the washroom, adjusting his crotch as he went. He figured he should at least tidy it up a bit, since you would be using it. The only other people who had been in there were Johnny and Captain Price, and of course, they never cared if there were trimmers on the counter, or if the mirror had splotches from toothpaste residue.

Hopefully, he'd forget all about you - at least, while he was on the mission.

Next ->

Taglist: @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @jisungswiftie @sweet-tooth4you @kennyis-aloser @hyyyxr @lahniu @dory-98 @naradae

[heyaheiya]

Introducing Katsuki to your best friend from America is a nightmare waiting to happen. He’s still working on his English, so most interactions are translated through you. Not to mention, they hate each other.

“Tell your boyfriend to go outside, he’s pale asf.”

“She says you’re very pale.”

“That’s a compliment, why is she glaring??”

“It’s an insult..”

“😦-😾 tell her to get a skincare routine!”

“He says, you have bad skin”

“Oh he’s one to talk, he’s got a face only a mother could love!”

“She thinks you’re ugly.”

“THIS BITCH- tell her deodorant is only 500 yen”

“He says you should invest your money better”

“Oh rich boy over here! Tell him to-“

These interactions could go on for hours if they could. But there are plus sides! Katsuki’s English has improved since meeting her. Mostly because he noticed his insults weren’t getting a big enough reaction, and realised you were watering them down.

Katsukis search history probably:

- English swear words

- Words that make white people mad

- Words that make white people mad that an Asian man is allowed to say

- What slurs am I allowed to say

He’s grumpy for a while when he finds out there’s basically no socially acceptable slurs he can say.

- How to make American girls angry

His scowl only got bigger when all he was met with was articles saying he was being racist to white people. He was met with one final option.

Reddit.

Walking into your boyfriend falling down the AITA rabbit hole was not something you expected to come home to.

Eventually, you caved and gave him some new vocabulary.

Friend - 0

Katsuki - 1

— — — — — — —

I’m unfortunately obsessed with the idea that Katsuki hates Americans.

I don’t know why I used America in this, I’ve never been there LMFAO

[manmuncher777]

I am BEGGING YOU to write something about Aegon being literally OBSESSED with the reader, like to the point that it’s dangerous.

a/n - I love this idea, I think it matches Aegon’s character so well. I felt super motivated to write this so thank you my love. I hope you enjoy. xoxox

⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆ 𝘼𝙚𝙜𝙤𝙣 𝙏𝙖𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙧𝙮𝙚𝙣 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 - 𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩 ⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆

𝐍𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬

NOT proofread lol. If you have sent a request I promise I will get to it, one fic takes me a while to write so ill try to get to it asap. LOVE YOU

𝐀𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐲

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 - 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞(𝐀𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐮𝐩), 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐯, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐩𝐞𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬

Aegon craved you. Aegon needed you, if you weren’t around, he would loose his mind.

For a few years now you had been one of the maids that Aegon had, starting in the lower ranks before being the personal lady to the king. Of course Aegon had others, but you were different, you were special. You saw the king for what he truly was - a broken young man. And instead of hating him for it, or offering him some fake pity. You helped him.

You could understand why he so craved the support, you had witnessed his family interactions, and heard the gossip that would travel through each servant of the crown. You understood he had a complicated relationship with his family, and a lot of external pressures to deal with. Every encounter that one would expect to be private was known by every maid, cook, cup bearer and servant. So after having heard so much over the years, you felt empathy for the king, aware of his lack of someone to talk to.

So on that fated night when you came in to change the kings bed sheets and found him crying, thats all you were, just someone to talk to. Aegon had never had this before, never had such a simple kindness been shown to him. And for that he was ever grateful. This greatfulness soon blossoming into something more. A deep sense of caring, a deep obsession. This would soon form a routine for you. Not long after that night he told his mother he wished for you to be his main lady, of course his mother had worries about this, but accepted his proposition. Most evenings instead of completing your nightly chores (Aegon had this duties bestowed upon someone else) you would sit with the king in his chambers, and listen. He would treat you with such respect and kindness that it was enjoyable for both of you. You would share his wines - some of the finest you had ever tried- and eat his food (he would have the cooks prepare his extra dinners and fruits to snack on because he wanted you to have them). Some nights were filled with lighthearted talk, some with laughter and drinking, others were filled with deep emotion. All of which you enjoyed.

“hello Issa gevie hāedar” he would say to you each evening with that handsome smile on his face. my beautiful girl

He would watch you enter with a glint in his eyes, each time you would knock in the same pattern so he knew it was you. That was a sound he soon began to adore.

You never understood valyrian, but it warmed you to know he gave you nicknames.

“Hello my king” you would blush in response before sitting on the edge of his bed, beggining your nightly conversations.

Aegon never failed to ask you about yourself also, but you rarely kept on the subject. You knew he was the one who carried the heaviest burden of all. You wished to relieve some of that pressure.

Aegon loved how shy you were, it was so much fun for him, to watch you blush under his gaze. He loved it, loved the effect he had on you. So of course he couldn’t just leave you there sitting so far away from him, soon the sitting on the edge of the bed each night became lying next to him, both sat up with pillows behind you. That soon became him resting his head on your lap, looking up at you. And every now and then, it would end with you holding each other. Nothing scandalous. Just enjoying each others embrace.

Soon Aegon got bolder, wanting to watch you become a blushing mess around him. He would reach up slowly towards your face, brushing some strands of hair behind your ear before gently caressing your cheek. Of course your skin would burn with the sensation of his hand touching you for hours after it had actually occurred. As if his touch awakened something inside you.

You cared for the king greatly, but you weren’t a fool. You knew that if anyone found out about what went on each night you went and visited him - despite it being nothing overly scandalous - you would be put at risk. You knew it wasnt a good situation to be in. There were already rumours that you were sleeping with him, some of the other maids even being bold enough to ask you if you were sleeping with the king to which you had aggressively denied. But it did nothing to stop you visiting him. There was just always a voice in your head warning you not to get too close.

But there was that part of you, whenever you saw him that would swoon over how handsome he was, how beautifully his hair was frame his face, and how his violet eyes would sparkle in the candle light. how good he smelled and how nice it was to feel his muscular frame next to you. Everything a young maiden craved in a man.

Aegon would even go as far to gift you smalls things, flowers being left in you quarters, books you would like and beautiful ribbons for your hair. Aegon had even had a necklace made for you, a beautiful delicate chain with a singular dragon on it. as a symbol of him.

a symbol that you were his.

So when he found out that you had requested the night off as it was your birthday, and you were allowed it, he was furious. Of course he wanted you to have a good name day, but you could’ve spent it with him, he wouldve got you anything you desired. In fact you didn’t even mention to him it was your name day.

He sat waiting in his chambers for you as he usually does, only to be met by one of the older maids who would serve for him.

“Where is y/n?” he snappily asked the woman who had only just graced the king chambers

“In the town my lord, celebrating her name day”

Not saying another word he stormed out of his room. He was angry, not at you of course. never angry at you. He merely wished you had told him, he wouldve joined you, had a gift made for you. Anything.

The wooden doors of the servant quarters smashed open with aegons force, stopping the movements of all inside.

“which one of you knows where y/n is this evening?” he asks, scanning the room for anyone who looks like the have the answer

“Her uncles tavern your majesty, the red anchor” one piped up

Once again in silence he stormed out. The red anchor, he had probably been there before on one of his evening out, he couldn’t remember. no matter, he would find it.

Determination flowed through the young prince. He couldn’t understand why you wouldnt tell him. Honestly he didn’t even know what he was going to say when he found you, but to have a night without your presence already felt crippling for him.

His steps echoed on the castle walls, each step carrying him closer and closer to his destination, you. As he passed through the halls, he was spotted.

“My king, where are you off to in such a hurry tonight, the hour is late” Ser Arryck asked from his post.

Aegon not even bothering to stop responded to the man with haste “I have some business to attend to in the city, I wont be gone long.”

“The hour is late my king, allow me to accompany you” Arryck was walking too now, having to match the kings pace that didn’t show any sign of stopping. confusion clear on his face about why he was determined to go alone.

“No, I don’t need any assistance. I will go alone” Aegon was getting more and more angry as the seconds passed. Angry that he couldn’t see you, angry that Ser Arryck was trying to stop him from seeing you.

“My king, my apologies but I must come with you into the city, if it is found that I allowed you to go with no protection I could be expelled from my position” Ser Arryck wasnt wrong, kingslanding was a dangerous place, and selfishly he feared that if something bad were to happen to the king he could be worse than just expelled, it put his life on the line. He has sworn to protect his king. But Aegon wasnt feeling rather empathetic in this moment, Arryck couldve been on fire and it still wouldnt have stopped him.

“Fine then ser, as you king I command you that I will not be accompanied this evening. Is that fucking clear?” Luckily for Aegon this conversation had allowed him to get closer and closer to the door, but it didn’t stop the rage at Ser Arryck’s questioning. If Arryck did come with him, then Aegon risked putting you in danger also, he understood that for the moment no one could be aware of the unique relationship you shared.

“Your majesty please-“ Ser Arryck had made the fatal mistake of touching the king. He had stopped Aegon in his tracks by gripping his shoulder. Aegon couldn’t explain where the flash of rage came from, but it gave him the strength to twist around, landing a punch directly of Arrycks nose. The punch catching the knight so off guard that it sent him flying backwards. His armour clashing against the stone as he fell. But Aegon didn’t stop there, he mounted Ser Arryck - landing multiple brutal shots to his face, aegons fists becoming bloodied from the mans face.

How dare he try and stop the King from seeing you. How dare he try and stop Aegon from being with you. No one was every going to take you away from him.

Aegon only stopped when he was sure Arryck was unconscious. arrycks face was bloody and bruised, already swelling with the punches it had just recieved. And without a second thought Aegon left him there.

Finally, he thought. finally out of the castle and one step closer to you. He swiftly grabbed one of the cloaks he would leave stashed outside of the doors incase he wished to make a speedy night time trip into the city. Yet with even the hood pulled up over his head, it couldn’t even block out the thoughts of you. you were like a drug and Aegon was going through sever withdrawals. He missed everything about you, he missed the scent of roses you would bring into his room with you, he missed the way you laughed, he missed the sound of you saying his name. He missed being able to glance down and see the dragon necklace sitting perfectly presented just above your tits.

He couldn’t believe it, hes always thought of you romantically, thought of how you would look on his arm, as his wife. But hed never felt this way about you, you had always been with him. so when you were finally taken away from him, it sent him crazy.

He could feel himself getting more and more overwhelmed the further he went into the city. To any other onlooker he looked drunken and crazed. In truth he felt like he was going through some kind of frenzy. His head was snapping and pinning in each direction, scarred he would miss you in the crowds of people, his steps becoming messy and unbalanced due to him not looking ahead.

His mind was playing tricks on him, making him think that he had seen your beautiful silhouette on the side of the street, only for it to be a shadow and nothing more.

With everything going on around him his mind started to race, kingslanding was a crazy place at night. The street performers displaying their talents with flames in al different colours flying about the place, a man on stilts in the distance making his way though the crowd. Fortune tellers on the sides of the streets calling aegons name as he passed the. Groups of drunk people, fighting, fucking and laughing. He couldn’t take much more of this. What if you were out here and in trouble, what if you were with someone else.

Aegon couldn’t take much more, he grabbed the nearest person to him which turned out to be a drunken old woman who was shouting with a bunch on gamblers at a card game

“Where is the red anchor?!” He had the woman by both of the shoulders, demanding in her face for her to tell him

“Your stood in front of it you fucking blaggard.” she said unhappily wrenching herself from him grip before returning to her jeering at the ongoing card game.

Aegon could scream. If only you knew what effect you had on him. He was certainly about to show you. There it stood in clear letters on the sign hanging above the tavern “The Red Anchor” with the corresponding symbol underneath. Without waiting another second the tavern doors were shoved open by the king. Who was eagerly scanning to find you through the crowds of busy drunk men.

He had been here before, many times. He recognised the layout. He couldn’t yet spot you so deeper into the pub he dove, walking much slower now into the main bar area, hoping to arch a glimpse of you

And as if the Gods had answered his prayers, there you stood. In centre stage of the room, there you were stood by the bar, talking to the man on the other side. Your uncle Aegon assumed (And hoped he was right).

You looked so different, so free. You wore a beautiful dress that complimented you well, it was simple but the nicest you could afford. The colours and style suited you perfectly. much nicer than the uniforms you had to wear at the castle. Your hair was down and flowing freely unlike when you wear it up at the castle. Aegon could tell you were in your element. You looked ethereal, a smile gracing your features as you chatted with those around you.

Aegon was about to make Hi way over to you when out the corner of his eye he spotted it. A fat drunk man making his way over to you, predatory look in his eyes. Aegon watched as the happy girl you were moments ago now shrivelled at the mans advances. You clearly having turned him down because the mans expression changed, him placing a hand on your shoulder and pulling you closer to him.

He was touching you, he was touching what belonged to Aegon

Zȳhon gevie hāedar. his beautiful girl

Wishing seconds Aegon was next to you. The hand that was previously resting on your shoulder was now pinned against the wall with a dagger through the palm. Aegon’s dagger.

Rage filled Aegon as he slammed the man into the wall, pinning him there tightly, staring into his eyes. The man screamed out in pain, only silencing a few of the near by people, the rest of the tavern paying no mind. Aegon could tell by the mans face he was scared. good.

“Don’t ever lay a hand on her again” He gritted out in the mans face, eyes wide and bloodshot. Aegon ripped the dagger from the mans hand causing him to let out another agonised scream before silencing himself due to the feeling of the same blade being pressed up to his throat.

“Do you understand me” The cowards in front of Aegon merely mustering a nod yes to his question.

god Aegon wanted to kill him, Aegon wanted to cause him so much pain. To drag it out and make it as gory as possible. How dare he lay a single finger on what belonged to the king. How dare he make you uncomfortable and try to damage something so perfect. Aegon couldn’t remember feeling a rage like this, it was like nothing he had ever felt before. He had never felt so protective over you before. It took everything in him not to push that blade into this scumbags neck, but he didn’t want to do that in front of you. So with a sigh he let the man go, who quickly ran out of the tavern.

You were still yet to recognise Aegon as he still had his hood up, so it was a shock for you when this hooded man grabbed you by the arm and lead you through the busy crowds of drinkers and locked you both in a storage room.

“what in seven hells - Aegon?!” once the man finally pulled his hood down to reveal himself, you were shocked. Aegon was your saviour, the one who so violently apprehended the man previously bothering you. But why, how on earth did he know you were here. why was he here?

You didn’t actually get to ask him any of these questions before he trapped you in a searing kiss. He pinned you up against the wall - the stone of the wall biting into your back slightly. You moaned into the kiss as the Kings hands held onto you waist. His body was pressed into yours as he kissed you hungrily. All the many days of wanting, the house spent obsessing over you and the feelings of tonight’s events all put into one kiss. And you could feel it, feel all the emotions - hunger, lust, desire maybe even love. You kissed him back wiht just as much passion, the kiss as fulfilling for you as it is to him. One of your legs now wrapping against his wait, hid rigged hand gripping your thigh. Pushing himself into you with a light groan. Your hands found his hair, gripping at the silver strands as he tongue enters your mouth.

Finally he gets to taste you. He could taste the ale you had been drinking on your tongue. He broke the kiss only for a second to look at you. Gods you looked perfect. Your lips now pink and plump from your kiss, hair slightly dispelled and dress begginging to bunch up at the sides. Your chest heaved slightly with a light pant as you tried to catch you breath. Your cheeks coated with a dusting of blush. You were the image of beauty. He could still se your shy nature on your face but was sure you were a lot more confident tonight.

“Aegon…What are you doing here.” you whispered, your leg still wrapped around Hi , his face mere inches away from yours.

“I couldnt take it anymore. I must have you, I must call you mine. No one else will ever come close to you again.” he confessed, hunger in his eyes as he speaks to you. His frame towering over you as he watched your eyes widen at his words

“Aegon-“

“Tell me you want this too gevie hāedar. Tell your king what you need.” he whispered, lips brushing against your ear. beautiful girl

You were silent for a second, no longer. And in this second thousands of thoughts flashed through your mind, what were you going to do after this? what would be the consequences? But those thoughts were clouded with want, and there was nothing in that moment that wouldve stopped either of you.

“I want you Aegon.” You whimpered, completely at his mercy.

This was everything the young king had dreamed of and more. His beautiful blushing girl looking up at him, begging for him. Needing him like he needed her and who would he be to decline such a polite little thing. A smirk graces his face before his lips are on your again. His tongue invading your mouth. You moaned again louder this time as you could feel his hardness pressing into you.

When you were back in the castle he would take his time with you, exploring you with his hands, his mouth. UNtil he had every inch of you memorised. You were his now and no matter the consequences, everyone was going to know it. You were untouchable with his favour. But until he could get you back in the castle, he needed you right now.

He pushed the skirt up, bunching it at your waist with desperation as he kissed at your neck, nipping at the skin lightly just to get those beautiful noises you made. He would never be able to forget how you sounded. His toungue licking and sucking at the sensitive skin while his fingers brushed over your already wet cunt. He cold feel it over your underclothes, and couldnt hide the chuckle that left him when you moaned so sweetly.

“Are you enjoying yourself Byka mēre?” he questioned, and you could hear the smugness in his voice. You could only bring yourself to nod. Your head already fuzzy. little one

“Oh my dear, don’t tell me you’ve already gone quiet, I’ve hardly even touched you yet” his face now back in view, smirking at you. His fingers now working their way past your underclothes - gently brushing through your folds. You gasp at the feeling, innocent little eyes begging for more.

“Tell me, has anyone ever touched you like this before?”

“No, my king” Gods, he felt his cock throb in his pants, what a naughty thing you were using his title like that. Maybe not so shy as he thought. He would be lying if his heart did jump at the idea of being your first. He felt it was right, he would be the only man to ever touch you in this way

“Good girl” he whispered, before pushing one of his fingers into you, watching as your mouth hung open in pleasure. Slowly he began to pump him finger inside of you, before taking another and gently pushing it inside. You were glad for the busy night in the tavern because you couldnt control your moan. Your head lolled back against the stone and your hands gripped aegons forearms tightly, squeezing him. You hadn’t felt anything like this before, it was amazing. With every thrust of his fingers Aegon’s palm came into contact with your clit, the sensation jolting through you, giving you goosebumps all over. You whined and moaned, unable to do anything else but take it as he watched you, smile on his face. He was proud to be the one that left you crumbling beneath him. Your leg hooked around his waist for support, you worried your legs would give out. A strange sensation began to build in your stomach as Aegon kept the same torturous pace, listening to the sounds of your we cunt as his finger would leave you hole briefly to play with you folds, seeing you cry out at the teasing.

“Feels so good Aegon, please don’t stop.”

“I wouldnt dream of it my love.” he says, completely true. All he wants is to give you what you deserve, the pleasure that you deserve. He can feel you tightening around his fingers now, he can tell your close

Your whole body is on fire with pleasure, not only at what his finger are currently doing to you, but the whole situation, his handsome face smiling down on you as you come undone for him. You cant control the moans coming from your mouth as the feeling grows

he leans down right next to your ear and whisper to you, “let go for me Issa jorrāelagon”. my love

And that was all you needed. All you could think to do in that moment was scream his name as you came all over his fingers, the feeling far more intense than you expected. Black clouded you vision as his fingers never stopped, coaxing you through your orgasm. You barley had enough time to catch your breath before he was kissing you, pulling himself free of his trousers and lining himself up at you entrance.

He waited, looking for you to signal to him you wanted this. you nodded and he sheathed himself inside you. The slick from your orgasm allowing him to slide in with ease.

You both moaned in unison as the feeling, both being so close to each other finally. And he was about to show you how much he craved this. Aegon couldn’t hold off long before he was pistoning inside of you, his pace hard and fast. The feeling of you being so tightly wrapped around him causing guttural moans to leave him. Gods you felt amazing, better than anything he imagined, better than all the nights he used his hand while thinking about how good you would look on his cock. His imagination falling short of this moment.

A slight sheen of sweat coated your skin, your tits basically bursting from the top of your dress as his cock pounded your tight hole. Once again the necklace he gifted you taking pride of place on your chest. Your eyes rolled back so beautifully, struggling to stay on him. Your moans consisting of his name and a string of curses.

All you could do was tell him how good he felt. Good being an understatement, you could basically feel him throbbing inside of you. He was big, stretching you out so perfectly, hitting a spongy spot inside of you that had you seeing stars. When his pelvis connected with yours, it would brush against your clit. The pressure against the bundle of nerves causing you to tighten around Aegon. Which made him release the most delicious sounds you had ever heard.

Aegon looked down, watching where you both connected, this moment was surreal, all of the anger and stress from earlier now melting away each time he plunged into your soaking cunt. He watched himself slip in and out of you, his hard cock coated in your wetness. Already he could feel himself nearing his end, he wasnt surprised, all these days spent dreaming about you had him riled up more than ever.

One of the hands that was gripping your hips so tightly travelled down between you both to rub at your clit, the squeal you let out not going unheard by Aegon.

“So good for me my love, you have no idea how long ive waited for this.” he huffed out “so beautiful”

Your legs were quivering and you were glad you had him ther to support you or your legs would have failed you, the same feeling building in your stomach began, only stringer this time. The stimulation from his finger and his cock was almost too much for you to handle

“My king!” you squealed out as his thumb drew quick circles on your sensitive bud.

“I know little one” he muttered to you sweetly as you feel apart for him once more. Your orgasm hitting you even harder this time. Clenching around Aegon so tightly that he couldnt hold off anymore, his hips stuttered before he bottomed out inside you.

You could feel him throb as his seed filled you. Both of you left panting for breath, staying as you were fore a moment, with him inside you. He kissed you once more, much gentler this time.

“you are mine now Issa gevie hāedar” my beautiful girl

[hotteokyu]

Do Not Touch

Synopsis ~ Wooyoung accidentally bought a feral omega on the street. Jongho is a recently presented alpha who struggles with his unstable pheromones. There are a few bad ideas, and you and Jongho can't stop pawing at each other.

Pairings ~ alpha!jongho x omega!fem!reader x omega!wooyoung

Word count ~ 15.3k

Genre / warnings ~ NSFW/EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT, omegaverse, smut, drama, fluff, they are idols, cursing, human (omega) trafficking, hongjoong gets angry a lot, reader is not of sound mind for a lot of it, sexual acts without actual consent from either parties (idek how else to put it), there will be consent, dry humping, kissing, scenting, growling, bratty behavior, reader and Jongho are obsessed with each other, poor Wooyoung has to deal with it, first time knotting, threesome, teasing, boy kissing, woojong sex

MINORS DNI ! ! !

mwa ᯓᡣ𐭩

“Okaay, I get it,” Wooyoung grumbled, walking slowly behind his manager through the empty street. His phone vibrated in his tight grip as he tried to play a smile for the camera being held to his face. 

     “Don’t mess it up this time,” Seonghwa nagged, mumbling more nonsense that the mic wouldn’t pick up unfortunately. Atiny should’ve really seen how annoying he was. 

     “Yeees, I get it, I’ll be careful.”

     “And don’t growl at anyone. They’re not your friends,” he mumbled, almost embarrassed to bring something like that up.

     Wooyoung scoffed. “It’s not like anyone’s intimidated by an omega’s growl. I’m just being playful.”

     Seonghwa was just about done uselessly preparing Woo for his event when he actually heard a growl from the other end. 

     “Wooyoung, I’m being completely serious,” he said, glancing at his phone in disbelief. 

     “I’m being serious too,” he giggled, then quickly stopped as another growl vibrated through the phone. 

     “Wooyoung-!”

     “Shh, Hyung,” he whispered.

     “I’ll send you home right now if you growl one more time,” he scolded.

     “What? That wasn’t even me? I think…” Another growl. “Someone’s in trouble, Hyung. I can smell it a little.” 

     “What? Smell what?” 

     “I have to go!” he whispered, hanging up and shoving his phone into his hoodie pocket before glancing in the direction of the sound… and the worsening smell. 

     “Hyung, can you turn off the camera?” he asked, taking his mic off and handing it over to his manager, who switched off the camera, putting it down without needing a reason. He could smell it too. 

     “I’ll call the police,” his manager said, putting his hand out slowly toward the antsy omega. “Stay right here. Don’t move.”

     “The police?” he scoffed. “It’s an omega.” He sniffed the subtle burn to the faint lilies. “What the fuck will the police do?” They weren’t even that far away. 

     His manager turned, covering his mouth as he spoke on the phone. Wooyoung heard a whimper. Then silence. He ran. 

     “Fucker,” the man snarled. “How am I s’posed to see if she’s any good if her legs are tied?” He tilted his head, leaning into the beta’s face. The beta trembled, crossing his eyes to maintain the contact with the alpha.

     Wooyoung stumbled into a wooden fence as he was attacked with burning masculine, putrid scents. They stunk up an old parking lot outside an abandoned warehouse. There were several alphas lined up behind a much stronger, uglier one. In front of them was a weak-looking beta who stood beside an omega, you, tied to a chair, unconscious.

     “M-my master said-” The alpha spat in the beta’s face, watching with a disgusted frown as the beta squeezed his violated eyes shut. 

     “Untie her.” The alpha’s men started to move toward you and Wooyoung nearly lunged out from his spot, but the beta quickly stepped in front of you, shaking his hands as he panicked. 

     “My master told me not to give her to you if you inspect her before paying!” he shouted. The men paused and glanced toward the alpha. 

     He grumbled, eyeing your unconscious body. “You’re trying to fuck me over with some loose hag?” he snarled. “This is ridiculous! Doesn’t he realize no one wants a feral bitch these days? Will he kill her if I refuse her?” 

     The beta swallowed hard as the alpha himself neared you.

     “Just let me take a look.”

     “I’ll purchase the omega!” Wooyoung shouted, slipping on his paper mask as he stepped out into the parking lot. 

     The alpha growled as he stepped closer, and Wooyoung tilted his head. “I’ll pay now. No inspections needed.” 

     “Who the fuck are you?” The alpha took just two steps to meet him before he could reach the beta or you. “You-”

     “Fantastic!” the beta exclaimed, shoving past the alpha and handing Wooyoung a tablet for payment. The alpha looked stunned, but before he could take the tablet from him, he was already done. The omega was his. 

     The alpha shoved him suddenly. Hard. He stumbled to the ground, his head slamming against the concrete. He snarled at the creature. When he got to his feet, he was pushed again. 

     “You’re pitiful” Wooyoung scoffed, only shuffling back a little that time. “I thought no one wants ferals these days anyway.”

     “It was mine,” he growled. 

     “Shut the fuck up,” Wooyoung grumbled, rolling his eyes slightly. “You’re fucking mated,” he growled, motioning toward the alpha’s clearly marked nape.” You want to buy a feral omega? Want her to kill your mate maybe? Or maybe you wanna use her as a toy. Keep her locked away for when you’re bored. Disgusting.” 

     The sirens in the distance shut the alpha’s jaw tight. It wasn’t very illegal to sell and purchase omegas like this. But he was probably a somewhat public scumbag. He couldn’t have his name tarnished like that. Though, neither could Wooyoung. 

     The alpha backed off first, filing into a black van with his goons. They drove off pretty fucking fast. 

     The beta was gone.

     It was just him. And you.

     His harsh glare softened as he laid his eyes on you. You were beautiful but so destroyed. You were covered in ripped cloth and torn skin. Blood, bruises, and scars. 

     He knelt down in front of you. There were remnants of foam at the sides of your mouth. Your lips twitched as you struggled with your consciousness. You were drugged, definitely.

     He slowly began to untie you. As his manager’s scent came closer and closer, his feet dashing across the pavement, he closed his eyes as he realized exactly what he’d done. He’d saved you. But he’d fucking bought you. He bought an omega.

     “Wooyoung!” he gasped. “Fuck! Are you okay?! Is she okay? The police are almost here!” Wooyoung glanced at his face with an unsure expression.

     “Hyung…”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The looks on their faces were heartbreaking. But the more he thought about it, the more he was sure he did the right thing. Even as he was deep in a bow, kneeling on the ground, he knew he did the right thing. She was free now. As long as no one found out about what he did, it was all alright. She was free.

     But they looked so disappointed. 

     “Did you-!” Hongjoong had to take a long breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose tightly between his fingers. “Did you think for just a SECOND? Just one? That that might not have been the best thing to do?” His eyes were wide, his brows high in utter disbelief. “Fuck, Wooyoung, this could destroy hundreds of lives. Us, our familes, the company, the employees, their fucking families. If this gets out… holy shit…” He was really trying his best not to scream. He really was. Because Wooyoung was an omega, and, although it usually didn’t matter, Hongjoong was an alpha. He would hurt him by letting his anger loose. But it was quickly becoming nearly impossible. 

     “Hyung, I’m so sorry,” Wooyoung pleaded, his voice trembling as he rubbed his hands together desperately. “You know she would’ve gone with that man. She would’ve been his slave. She would’ve-”

     “Wooyoung,” Seonghwa gently interrupted. “Get off the floor. Let’s just talk about it, okay?” 

     Wooyoung shook his head. “I deserve to die, Hyung, but I’d rather die than see her get sold away. Fuck the police. Fuck the law. Fuck me,” he bit his lip as he felt hot tears built at his eyes. “She doesn’t deserve that, Hyung.”

     “The police-”

     “No!” He lifted his head with a deep scowl. “You know they wouldn't have helped her! You know the law wouldn’t have stopped it!”

     Hongjoong clenched his jaw in frustration, looking away from Wooyoung. He knew he was right. But he knew the risk was far more than just the one Omega. No one deserved that. But neither would the innocent people who’d get caught in the crossfire.

     “How is she?” Seonghwa asked, letting Wooyoung’s expression soften as he met the older omega’s face. 

     “She’s still unconscious. Um… but she’s being treated right now. She has a lot of broken bones. And little things. The doctors said she probably did it all to herself.”

     Seonghwa pressed his lips together in a thin line, blinking a few times. He hid it well with his subtle expression, but his scent soured significantly. Seonghwa, Wooyoung knew, was not against his decision. Not at all. In fact, he wanted to see the omega and care for her. 

     Wooyoung and Seonghwa knew where Hongjoong came from, but they couldn’t make themselves regret Wooyoung’s decision. 

     “I’m going to make sure she’s safe,” he said. “I’ll find her a good shelter. I’ll make sure she gets help. I’ll make sure they never find her.”

     “Make sure no one finds out.” Hongjoong said his final thought with a softness to it. “The company will do the same. Just be careful.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

     Your eyes shot open with a gasp of air. Everything was a mixture of white and red, your eyes bloodshot as they widened, searching frantically around the room. You were laying down, strapped to a surface. You couldn’t move a single muscle. You pulled at your arms and legs, but they were restrained completely. Even your chest was bound down. You ground your teeth, your head lifting off of the pillow as you let out a frustrated growl. You couldn’t think. You didn’t know where you were. You just knew you needed to get out of there. 

     But your head was throbbing, your ears pounding with each thump of your pulse. It was painful and weakening as you tried to think. You were gasping for air, searching for a way out. 

     Everything was white. White walls, white ceiling, white bed, white straps. There was nothing but white. 

     “It’s best to let her calm herself down.” You froze immediately as you heard a voice in the distance. You couldn’t smell anything. You could only hardly hear the sounds beyond the room.

     “She shouldn’t be tied up like that,” another voice said. “She won’t calm down like that.” 

     Your chest began to vibrate slightly as you let out a constant warning sound toward the voices. If they came closer, you would bite their fucking heads off. 

     “It would be easier if we knew why she went feral, but, unfortunately, we can only infer based on what you witnessed.” 

     “Just fucking untie her.” You heard a deep growl, and you echoed the noise immediately. But when you heard footsteps coming closer, you whimpered slightly. You couldn’t protect herself like this. They could attack you, and you couldn’t protect yourself. 

     “Mr. Jung!”

     “I’ll take care of it. Did you contact any professionals before handling her or did you just restrain her like any normal patient? Fucking idiot.”

     Your heart was beating out of your chest as you violently thrashed against the restraints. The door in the corner opened, and you hissed at the intruder. You glared at him, grinding your teeth as your lips trembled. 

     Your eyes shot to the door. It opened into a hallway of more white. You could escape. If you got out of your restraints, you could get away.

     But then he came closer, and you faltered in your thrashing. You sniffed the air in confusion, your eyes glancing back at the intruder. He was an omega. Your growls hitched in your throat as you watched him step closer again. He was a few feet from you, and he crouched down.

     “You’re so pretty,” he whispered, reaching up toward his neck to peel something off. Your pupils flared as his scent gently wafted through the air. It was so sweet and light, calming your throbbing senses.

     You slowly closed your lips into a small frown. You whimpered softly, wanting the pain to go away. His scent was easing that discomfort and constant alarm. 

     He tilted his head, unsure of what you wanted, and you mewled, wanting him to come closer. You needed his scent closer. 

     He took one hesitant step, and his scent became so much stronger. You wanted to reach out and pull his scent gland to your nose, but your arm pulled uselessly against the straps. He glanced from your arm to your pleading eyes before slowly reaching for the restraint.

     Your breathing picked up a bit, your heart starting to race as his fingers neared your skin. He could hurt you. He could attack you. But your worries were quickly eased when his fingers unlatched your restraints and your arm could pull itself free. Immediately you grabbed the omega’s arm and tugged his wrist into your face. He squeeked, his arm trembling slightly in shock as you took a long breath into the scent gland at his wrist. 

     It was still too faint, though. You eyed him and his soft, nervous expression, and you gently pulled on his arm, beckoning him to come even closer. 

     “Let me take these off first, okay?” he said, smiling gently. 

     He reached out with his other arm toward your legs. You held his arm to your chest as he worked at each restraint. He freed your chest, and then he finally freed your arm. 

     You shot up off of the bed, tumbling the omega to the floor. You straddled him, pushing his head to the ground as you hurriedly buried your face in the nape of his neck. You inhaled deeply and desperately as you tried to breathe in this addictive scent. You grabbed his arms and pinned them to the ground in fear that he would try to push you away. When he didn’t fight against you, you began to purr.

     He sighed, the tinge of uncertainty in him fading away as he tilted his head to give you more access. 

     “You can scent me, pretty,” he whispered softly against your ear. Your muscles relaxed a bit against him as you let your chest vibrate vulnerably. 

     You slowly started to scent him, rubbing your sore glands over his. It felt so pleasant despite the slight sting of your skin. What was even more pleasant was the purr of the omega underneath you. You whimpered in relief as his chest vibrated with yours. 

     “Such a good girl. Does it feel good?”

     You swallowed hard before you could even try to speak. Your throat was so sore and scratched. It hurt, but you felt embarrassed to let him hear your hoarse voice when his was so soft and perfect.

     “Yes,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you let your head rest above his shoulder, just breathing in the air filled with his scent.

     “Mr. Jung!” A voice shattered the content vibrations and little noises between you two, and you shot your body up from its limp position. “You can’t-!” You growled sharply as a man entered the room. He was scowling, stomping inside with a syringe and a muzzle in his hand. 

    He was going to hurt him. He was going to attack your omega. 

     You grabbed his head and pulled it to your chest as you hovered over him. You bared your teeth, your nose scrunching as his putrid smell contaminated the room. 

     “She’s okay! She’s calm!” your omega shouted, his voice muffled by your shirt. “Get out!” 

     “It’s not safe, sir! We have to sedate her before she hurts you.” He took a step closer, and your omega tried to break free. You panicked, your grip on his head tightening frantically. He was in danger if he left. You had to protect him, but he kept pushing away. 

     “Don’t touch her!” he growled, but with one final step, the man strapped the muzzle over your mouth. You buried your omega further under you as the man grabbed your arm and pushed the drug inside. Your eyes drooped as you whimpered, determined to keep him safe from the intruder. 

     As your body fell limp, Wooyoung could finally pull his head from your grip. You quickly began to collapse to the floor, but he grabbed you and pulled you close. He took a few slow breaths as he gazed down at your distressed, broken expression.  

     He didn’t glance toward the doctor as he simply took you in his arms, stood, and laid you on the bed. 

     “She’s mostly healed, so we’ll transfer her to a proper hospital for recovery,” Wooyoung said, gently moving the hair from your face and patting it down nicely. “You are not allowed to enter this room until she’s gone.” 

     He did look at the man then. His eyes were borderline feral themselves, his pupils drawn back into thin slits. He motioned toward the door calmly.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

     You could smell him, though just faintly. It couldn’t have been long since he was with you, but you were somewhere else. Where was he? He must’ve been taken. You didn’t protect him. He was in trouble. You needed to get to him. 

     But this room also had no way out. It was small and secluded, and all you could hear were the sounds of your breath and heartbeat. All you could smell was him mixed with your own scent. 

     You weren’t restrained anymore. You could get up, but it was useless. You walked back and forth, banging on each wall uselessly. You shouted and wailed for help, but your voice was eventually too tired to continue. You collapsed in the middle of the room. 

     You sniffed your stale clothes for any hint of distress, trying to find clues as to if your omega was hurt or not. You could hardly smell anything. 

     And then you heard a voice. It was a female, talking softly through the wall. “Miss, I have some food for you.”

     “Where is he?!” you growled, crawling over to the voice and banging your fist against the wall. “Don’t fucking touch him! Bring him back!” you demanded, scraping your nails along the surface desperately.

     “I’ll bring him,” she said, and you paused your growling and scraping to listen. “But he said you have to eat your food first. Will you eat it for him?” 

     “He said that?” you mumbled, sitting back on your feet. “I-if he said that, then I’ll eat it.” If it meant he was safe. If he would come. 

     The wall slowly opened, and a small lady appeared. She held a plastic plate full of meat and eggs and vegetables. You backed away, baring your teeth just slightly at the lady. She took a step inside and closed the entrance. You saw something else in her hands. A piece of cloth, maybe a sweater. She crouched down and placed the plate on the ground. Then she smiled, holding up the sweater.

     “He sent a gift.”

     You quickly crawled over and snatched the sweater from her hands, retreating back to your wall. You brought the sweater to your nose and closed your eyes in relief. His scent.

     You lifted your head slowly to look at the woman, but she was gone. You put the sweater on, feeling your omega’s warmth and scent envelope you. You felt nearly content as you crawled over to the plate of food by the other wall. If you ate the food, he would come see you. He was safe. 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

     “You can’t go there,” Hongjoong said, watching as Wooyoung’s expression dropped completely. “It can't be disguised as going to the hospital for yourself. It’s a facility for feral rehab, Wooyoung.” 

     “Maybe I’ve gone feral,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes when Hongjoong looked very unamused.

     “The company declined.” He shrugged. “Trust me, I asked and argued for your case. They said sending your sweater was risky enough. You can’t go see her.”

     “Go see who?” 

     Both heads turned in shock as Jongho innocently stood from a chair in the corner of Hongjoong’s bedroom. He was busy on his phone as he asked, not really too interested in the situation. 

     “When did you get here?” Hongjoong asked, blinking in confusion.

     Wooyoung eyed his captain. “He’s been here the whole time.” He scoffed, leaning back in his own chair, clearly offended. “Can you seriously not tell the difference between us yet? It’s been years.”

     Hongjoong avoided eye contact with the omega, puckering his lips innocently. “It’s literally the same scent.”

     “Hyung,” Jongho whined, clutching his chest dramatically. “That hurts my pride. They’re very different.”

     “What? You don’t like smelling like me?” Wooyoung grumbled. “I smell delicious.”

     Jongho scrunched his nose. “Eh… you smell a bit…”

     “You smell the same,” Hongjoong huffed, ending the conversation with a warning spike in his own scent. I guess the alpha was a bit worn out from Wooyoung's situation. 

     “Who are you guys talking about anyway?”

     “Ah… At my schedule the other week…” Hongjoong sighed, sitting on his bed with a small bounce. “...a feral omega was being sold to some alpha, but I bought her first and sent her to a hospital. But when I met her after she woke up, she really liked my scent, I guess. She’s getting help right now, but apparently she won’t calm down unless they promise I’ll go see her.”

     Jongho looked up from his phone and blinked twice. “Is she okay?” 

     “I don’t know,” he said, staring with wide eyes at Hongjoong. “Our captain won’t let me visit her.”

     “Wooyoung,” he grumbled, rubbing his eyes in frustration. “Can’t you cooperate? You know why you can’t go.”

     The omega huffed and turned away, staring at Jongho. “She’d get better if I visited her.” 

     “She should just come here,” Jongho said, plopping down next to Hongjoong on the bed. His weight indented the mattress and made Joong lean into him, his cheek squishing into his shoulder. He didn’t really make an effort to move, though. “I mean, if she likes Woo’s scent, she’ll like mine.”

     Hongjoong huffed a small laugh. It wasn’t just him. Only a few little hints were different between their scents. Jongho’s was just a tad sweeter and softer than the omega’s. Other than that, mostly the same.

     “No, no,” Wooyoung grumbled, shaking his head in annoyance. “She’ll recover. I’ll send her more stuff, and, when she gets better, I’ll find her a good shelter. She’ll be okay.” He bit his lip, feeling a bit unconvinced himself.

     He worried about you. He scented his clothes and blankets and sent them to you multiple times a week. He heard you’d built a nest and was content with your life when you laid in it. You weren't getting better, though. It was all very temporary. When his scent wore off after a week, you would tear everything apart and scream and growl, demanding he came to see you in person. He wondered if this was just feeding into your mental state, but the facility insisted you were getting better, just very, very slowly. 

     So that’s why he thought he could go through with his schedule in Japan. He would be just a few hours away, and it would only be for five days. Then he could send you his rescented items. It would be okay. 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

     “She isn’t taking no for an answer, Mr. Jung. We understand your circumstances, but the patient can not improve any further without your presence.” The woman on the other end took a shaky breath. “Unfortunately ferality is not very predictable, so we can only speculate based on her behavior, but we fear she might enter an irreversible state if she does not reconnect with her mate, which she has claimed to be you.”

Wooyoung closed his eyes and lifted the phone from his ear for a brief moment with his thoughts. Yelling wouldn’t help anything, but he wanted to scream. He strained his jaw as he suppressed the deep growl sizzling in his throat. He put the phone back to his ear and spoke very calmly.

     “I was told this wouldn’t happen,” he said, smiling to try and ease his voice into a smooth, professional tone. “I made it clear that I would not be able to help her in person, and I was told it wouldn’t be necessary.” His voice rose instinctively, but he quickly stopped and gathered himself with a deep, seething breath. “How long do I have?”

     “W-We fear it could happen within the next day. It is a very abrupt transition, and it is-”

     Wooyoung ended the call and glanced at his manager in the corner of the room. This fucking schedule wasn’t even important, and yet they insisted on him going despite his situation.

     No. 

     He decided he could go. This was his fault as well. He shouldn’t have left Korea when you were still so unstable. 

     He heard the cheers of the crowd from their room, and he wished, for the first time in his life, that they would shut the fuck up.

     He needed to leave, but he fucking couldn’t. He needed to go to you.

     Or did he?

     He looked down at the phone in his trembling hand with a sudden idea. His ideas were never very bright. That's how he got himself in this situation, after all. But it seemed like all he had at that moment.

~a quick note~

     Choi Jongho was 23 years old. It was common for idols to present later than the average person due to the constant physical stress on their bodies during adolescence. Usually, one would present between 14 and 18, but idols would often present around 19 or 20. Jongho presented as an alpha at 22. It was extremely rare, but it wasn’t very concerning.

     Of course, it wasn’t normal.

     Jongho’s pheromones were just a bit unstable. He had a hard time controlling his instincts. He was lucky he had eight older pack members to keep him in check. Otherwise he might not have had the successful career he had. 

     It had been a few months since his presentation, so he knew he would eventually gain control over his pheromones. His doctors reassured him many times that he would have a normal, stable second-gender after about a year, or three ruts.

     Jongho’s ruts were horrible and outright scary for the poor alpha. He was driven by pure instinct and would often want to fuck the omegas in the pack. So he would lock himself in his room and take care of everything himself, even if the other members wanted to help. A knot without anyone to take it was extremely painful, and so Jongho always associated sex with pain. He hated it. Even though the other members had sex often, he would never join. He was too scared.

     Even then, his instincts always went against him.

     That’s the gist of the alpha, Choi Jongho.

     So you can imagine the sigh Wooyoung let out when Jongho picked up the phone. He was seriously about to leave this in the hands of the pack’s baby alpha…

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

     You whimpered as you picked up one of the first blankets your omega had ever sent you. It was hardly intact anymore, but they let you keep it. Everything else that was torn had mostly been cleared out, leaving a neat nest for you and your guest. You would have gone for their napes in normal circumstances, but these weren’t normal at all. He was coming to see you. 

     Finally they were giving him back. You could protect him, and you could escape together. You purred at the thought, laying down on the cold floor, nuzzling your nose into the scentless blanket. 

     Then there was a knock at the door, and you sat up straight, your neck craning to get closer to the door from your spot on the wall. When no one came inside, you tilted your head in confusion and crawled a bit closer. 

     “Pretty?” 

     You paused, staring at the wall in awe. 

     Pretty. 

     That was you. 

     You crawled all the way to the wall and pawed at it with a small whimper. You couldn’t smell him, but you heard him call for you. You knew he was there.

     “They’re going to let you smell me, okay?” he said gently, and your scrunched, confused expression lightened so quickly as you nodded. 

     There were some clanking noises outside for a moment before that familiar, gentle scent wafted into the room. You felt tears fill your eyes as you let your lungs fill with the scent from its source. 

     “How are you, Pretty? I heard you made a nest with my gifts,” he said, and you pressed your ear against the wall to hear his soothing voice louder. 

     “Wanna show you,” you mumbled, drowsily letting your body go limp against the wall. He was quiet for a second. 

     “I bet it’s so comfy~” He hummed to himself as he thought, and you longed to feel those light vibrations. “You-”

     “When will you come in?” you interrupted, feeling a bit impatient. He was so close but way too far to feel very at ease. It was like an itch in your chest that wouldn’t go away.

     He was quiet again. 

     “I promise I’ll be good,” you mumbled. “I ate my food and made a pretty nest just for you. Please come see,” you begged, a small pout forming naturally. “You’ll be safe in my nest. I’ll be good, a-and I’ll protect you this time.” You were panting, desperately staring at the wall as if it would open that way. You twitched with each passing second, biting your lip when he never responded. 

     “I’ll be right back, pretty,” he said. 

     You heard him walk away, and you growled. Were they taking him away? Was that it? You weren’t allowed to feel him? To see him? To scent him? 

     “Pretty~” His voice was so soft, practically whispering in your ear through the wall, and your tense muscles relaxed. “Listen to me, okay?”

     “...Okay…”

     “I’m a little shy, so is it okay if we cover your eyes? If you let this nice lady cover your eyes, then I’ll come inside.” You raised a brow, confused and a little disappointed. But… if that’s all it took…

     “Okay.”

     “She’s going to come in and put something over your eyes. Then I’ll come inside. Let her do it, okay?”

     “Okay.”

     And then the wall opened, and the usual lady walked inside. You’d come to know her a little. Trust her to bring you nutrients. At least you knew she wasn’t exactly a threat. But to have her touch you… You couldn’t help but bare your teeth, clutching your pants and nearly tearing them as she crouched in front of you and wrapped something over your eyes. It clicked in the back, secured to your head. 

     Then she left, and your omega’s scent got closer. You whimpered, reaching out blindly until you tapped his hand. He slid his fingers between yours and you purred. You slowly crawled toward him and touched his body. His chest, and his arm, and his neck, and his cheek. You were eager to feel him everywhere and scent him completely, but you couldn’t see. You needed to be careful. 

     “Hi,” he quietly said, and you pushed yourself against him. You buried your nose in his neck and your purring grew louder with each inhale. You were so happy to be back in his hold. He placed his hands on your waist to hold you up as you leaned entirely on him. 

     “Omega,” you purred, “I missed you so much.”

     You rubbed your scent into his nape, delighting in the increasing pressure of his hands on your waist. But then you paused with a frown. Why wasn’t he purring too? He liked it when you scented him. Did he not like it anymore? Was he hurt? You distanced yourself just a bit from his body, and tilted your head.

     “Hm? What’s wrong?” he asked softly.

     Maybe it was the position. That must’ve been it. He was uncomfortable sitting on the hard floor.

     You moved away from him and took his hand in yours, guiding him into your nest. He giggled, and it quickly became one of your favorite sounds. 

     Once he was fully in the organized mess of his clothes and blankets, you gently pushed him to lay down. 

     “It’s so comfy,” he praised. “You built a beautiful nest.”

     You moved over him, a purring mess as you became a puddle on top of him. You sat on his lap, and you reached for his hand, bringing his wrist to your nose. 

     “You smell sweet today,” you mumbled, squirming a little in joy. You brought his pulse point to your lips and paused. His pulse was so quick. You frowned. “What’s wrong, omega?” 

     “Nothing, pretty, I’m okay,” he assured, reaching up with his other hand and softly stroking your hair. 

     “Are you hurt?” you mumbled, putting his wrist on the ground and lowering your nose to his neck. Your chest flushed to his, you could feel his heart beating so fast.

     “No,” he said, leaning his cheek against your head gently. “I’m just excited to see you.”

     You grinned, purring as you pushed your body further into his. “Then are you sleepy?” you asked.

     “No, pretty, I’m not sleepy. I can play with you as long as you want.” He rubbed a gentle thumb back and forth on your thigh, a subconscious movement that had you thrilled. You loved each word and each touch, but some little things bothered you so much.

     You pushed lightly against his head, but he never presented his neck for you to scent. He kept his cheek against your hair. He wasn’t…

     “Then why aren’t you purring?” You pouted, lifting yourself from his neck and placing your hands on his chest. He was quiet for a long while. “I-Is my sweater too thick? I just can’t feel it?” You quickly went to take it off, lifting it up to your chest, but he grabbed your hands before it could go any further.

     You dropped the sweater in confusion, but then you froze. It was just a single inhale, and then it was gone, but it was definitely there. Your eyes widened, your pulse quickening suddenly. Your hands reached to grab your blindfold in sudden terror.

     Alpha pheromones.

     You tried to rip the thing from your head but it wouldn’t budge. You grunted, tearing at the cloth, but it was too thick to break. You shuddered as you smelled it again, and you realized its source in complete horror. You pushed off of the man underneath you, scrambling to the edge of the room, panting as you kicked yourself further and further against the wall, unable to move farther away from him. You growled, tugging and pulling at the blindfold until finally it snapped in the back and fell to the floor. 

     You fell silent as you looked up at the stranger in your nest. It wasn’t your omega. Where was your omega? Did this alpha eat him? Did he hurt him? Your thoughts replaced your fear with rage as you bared your teeth, preparing your trembling legs to lunge at him. He deserved to die. You would fucking tear his skin from his glands. You’d fucking scented him. A stranger. An alpha. An alpha that had hurt your omega. 

     “Hey, it’s okay,” he said softly. His voice made you falter for just a second before you growled again.

     Before he could say anything else, you tackled him, his head slamming against the floor as you growled and tore at his clothes. You shredded his thick sweater and freed his bare chest. You grabbed his jaw and twisted his head far to the left to force him into submission. With his nape vulnerable, you leaned down and opened your mouth wide, drool dripping from your trembling teeth. But you couldn’t bring yourself to bite. To rip his most precious part from his body. Because his scent was so clear there. It was full of fear much like yours.

     When your teeth gently pressed against his scent gland, you heard him whimper. But he made no move to stop you, or shove you, or hurt you. He would just lay there and take it?

     What were you doing? You were going to kill this man? 

     For what?

     “Where is my omega?” you asked, your jaw trembling as you fought the urge to protect yourself. Your mind was spinning in a tight circle. Bite him, don’t bite him. Bite him. Don’t fucking bite him.

     “He’s a friend,” he said, his voice tight as he tried to keep his composure.

     “Where is he?” you growled, shutting your mouth quickly in a scowl. Your brain was buzzing, your eyes focusing and unfocusing as they darted from each speck on his glistening nape. 

     You felt tears form in your eyes, hot and heavy as they drooped. You fought against gravity and held them there. You couldn’t show weakness.

     “You smell just like him,” you said, forcing your eyes to keep open in fear that blinking would separate the heavy flood of water from your burning orbs. “You smell so good, but you’re bad,” you choked. “You lied to me. You hurt my omega, didn’t you?” Your voice broke into a single soft, suppressed sob, and his scent spiked in concern. 

     “I didn’t hurt him,” he rushed to say. “I-I’m his friend. He couldn’t come see you, so he asked me to help you instead. Pretty, I’m so sorry I-”

     “He never came to see me,” you mumbled, biting your lip hard as you let your eyes squeeze shut with a harsh sting. A tiny tear dripped onto the blanket beneath you. “They said he would, but he never came. He doesn’t want me.” Another sob broke loose, and you sucked in a hard, vocal breath. “No one wants me.”

     “I want you,” he whispered. 

     Your eyes opened slowly, and you pressed your hands into his bare chest, sitting up hesitantly. You tilted your head, gazing at his face. He remained presented for you. He didn’t move an inch. His eyes were closed. Soft streaks of tiny tears drew damp lines from his eye, over the bridge of his nose, to the blanket where there were three dark dots. His hair was messy, the few strands left laying over his forehead just a bit darker from his sweat.

     He was scared. 

     “Pretty,” he mumbled, opening his eyes slowly. His gaze had a soft determination, but his eyes trembled slightly as they tried to decide which of your eyes to look into. “Your omega wants you too. We all want you.”

     You tilted your head quietly. “You’re a good alpha,” you whimpered as you felt his soft trembles beneath your body. “I won’t hurt you. I’m sorry I scared you.” You bit your lip softly as you gazed at him guiltily.

     “I know, Pretty,” he said, forcing a tight smile. “You didn’t scare me.”

     You smiled at his act of bravery, leaning back down and nuzzling your nose into the crook of his neck where his hair tickled your skin lightly.

     “Will you stay with me?” you asked, squirming against him to mold your into his. “I don’t wanna be alone again.”

     When he whispered a soft “yes,” you rewarded your new friend with your gentle pheromones. You knew he would like them because he was an alpha. He could be your alpha since he was so good to you. But he stiffened as you let them out. He even pushed you away just a bit, and you pouted, pushing back against him.

     “Alpha, do you not like my scent?” you mumbled.

     “Th-that’s not it,” he whispered, his breath picking up a bit. You stopped letting the pheromones out with a huff, but his lips suddenly pressed lightly against your ear. His hands slid around your lower back, wrapping around you and trapping you there. “Don’t stop,” he purred.

     He stopped as soon as he started, turning his head away and slapping his hand to his mouth with wide eyes. He let go of you and pushed his hands under his back, putting his body’s weight on them as he took slow, deep breaths.

     “Alpha?” she whimpered and gained a long groan in response. He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing heavily through his nose as he cupped his mouth tightly. “Alpha, what’s wrong?”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

     “You did WHAT?!” Hongjoong screamed out of pure shock rather than anger. He was fucking pissed, of course.

     “You’re joking,” Seonghwa laughed. “You mean he’s there right now?” His eyes were wide in horror as the remnants of his disbelieving smile were slowly fading.

     Wooyoung nodded, and both Seonghwa and Hongjoong jumped to their feet. Hongjoong grabbed Wooyoung’s arm and dragged him to the door as they all ran out of the dorm, grabbing whatever shoes were in reach. 

     Wooyoung felt like he would cry as he explained the situation on the way there. When he was done telling the story, there was no response. The car ride was silent.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

     Jongho was trembling as he gently mouthed at your neck, just below your jaw. Your fingers ran through his hair as you purred encouragingly. He hovered over you, his chest pushed against yours. He hummed pleasantly at your vibrations, and his mind was so tingly and fuzzy from your scent. 

     He groaned as he left a trail of light kisses from your jaw to your soft lips. They moved slowly and gently, hesitant but instinctually comforting. He slid his tongue between your puffy lips, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb rested on her chin and opened her mouth just a bit wider. 

     You sighed into his mouth, your hand sliding from his hair to the nape of his neck as you caressed the sensitive skin there. He pushed further into you, wanting to feel more of your ticklish touches and praising vibrations. He opened his eyes, gazing at your soft expression as your hips connected just slightly.

     “So sweet,” he mumbled into your mouth, wondering if your scent would get sweeter if he-

     He paused, lifting his body from yours immediately. His pupils contracted in sudden horror. What the fuck was he doing?! 

     You whimpered, your hands resting on your chest as it slowly rose and fell. Your eyes were glazed over, and your skin was so hot and smooth as it kept your clothes tightly to your burning skin. 

     He shook his head and slapped his cheeks together. He needed to stay focused. He couldn’t give in. 

     No matter how fucking delicious you looked. 

     He whimpered, covering his eyes helplessly. He needed to leave. Your scent, your touch, just looking at you. It was getting to him, and he didn’t know how much he could take. 

     He heard a muffled moan, and he uncovered his eyes to glance down at you. He watched as a tear slipped from your eye, and your teeth bit hard on your bottom lip. His breathing picked up as he let out a small, sudden whimper of pleasure. Something felt so good. Your soft, constant movements brought his eyes down and down to where your hips connected. His brows furrowed together as he let out a choked groan. Your hips ground down against his aching bulge, giving him just the slightest friction. He could smell your sweet slick and hear it with each press against him. He saw it seep through your shorts and onto his pants, and he had to place his hands on the ground to support his body as he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the weakening sight. He pushed instinctively against you once and growled quietly at the pressure, his head hanging as he stared at your clothed pussy against his cock.

     He needed to move away. Fuck. You were so wet. He needed to move away. His hyungs. That’s right. They would yell at him. They would punish him. They would be so disappointed. He took a deep, trembling breath. That’s right. He would call Seonghwa-hyung for help. He would know what to do. 

     “Alpha,” you moaned, and he twitched, his eyes shooting to yours, though his head remained limp, hanging by his neck. You pushed a bit harder, setting a slow, hesitant rhythm. 

     He let low rumbles escape as he took your waist in his hands and held you still.

     “Please, alpha, I wanna feel it ngh~” you whimpered as you watched his eyes through his damp bangs grow so fucking hungry as they were forced back on your pussy against him. 

     He bared his teeth, rolling his hips against yours as he lifted his head and let out a pleasured sigh. He brought his movement to a quick, desperate pace, grinding as if he was fucking you. Fucking your perfect pussy. He groaned, leaning toward you as you lifted your head uselessly, wanting him closer. He attached his lips to your neck and breathed in your arousal, so sweet just for him. Fuck, you were so wet, dripping onto his cock and your nest, just for him. He gripped your waist as he nibbled at your scent gland, wanting so fucking bad to bite it and claim you for himself. Your perfect moans and sighs filled his ear with pure ecstasy as his jaw trembled against your skin. 

     But he needed to prove himself first. He would make you cum first, that’s right. Then you would know who you belonged to. Only he could take care of you. He would make you feel so fucking good. Have you creaming just like this, then on his cock, then fucking begging for his knot. For his cum. He panted against your skin, licking a long stripe from your gland to your jaw as his eyes grew blurry with a thick, drunk haze.

     Then his arms were grabbed, and he was dragged away from you. He growled, thrashing against the hands that kept him from you until he smelled the familiar scent of his hyung. He whimpered in confusion as he was taken from the room and shoved away from your sight and scent.

     He bared his teeth as he glared at the door that separated him from you. Seonghwa cupped both of his cheeks and forced the alpha to look at him.

     “Jongho, no!” he shouted sternly. The alpha froze as he met his hyung’s eyes. He slowly covered his mouth with his hand, eyes wide and fearful. 

     “I didn’t,” he whimpered, hot tears flooding his eyes. “Hyung, I tried not to. I r-remembered what you said. I tried not to, but-” As tears poured down his cheeks, Seonghwa wiped them away one by one, keeping the alpha close against him as he pleaded with him not to be angry. It was always like this, and it shattered Seonghwa’s heart to see their baby struggle so much. It wasn’t his fault. Not at all. Not a single bit, and yet Jongho would always blame and hate himself for it all.

     “You did good, baby,” Seonghwa cooed, moving his disheveled hair from his forehead with extra, gentle care of the alpha’s burning skin. “Omegas… They don’t do that when they’re feral,” he whispered, smiling and nodding when he glanced up at him. “So, it was an accident,” he took a small breath, “but I’m sure you helped her.” 

     “I helped her?” he mumbled, leaning into his hyung’s hand that cupped his puffy cheek. “Will she be okay?”

     He nodded without hesitation. “So, why don’t we go see Joongie, and we can all go home?” he suggested, taking the alpha’s hand and rubbing his thumb against his gently. 

     “Is he mad?” he asked as they walked down the hall.

     “Not at all,” he lied. “He’s just here to drive us home.”

     The walk was silent, but Seonghwa watched as Jongho bit his lip and thought hard to himself. He waited patiently for the alpha to speak his mind, as it always took him a while to find the courage. “Will Pretty come with us too?” he asked suddenly.

     Seonghwa didn’t answer for a long while. Of course, how could he just say no? “We’ll have to ask Hongjoong.” He couldn’t.

     Wooyoung watched as she scratched at the door, sobbing for her alpha to come back. He was a little heartbroken. What had Jongho told her? She hated him now. I mean, he did deceive her, but so did Jongho. It wasn’t fair. He wanted her to like him again. To be her omega again, but she was so distressed about Jongho. 

     “Pretty,” he called out softly. She turned and glared at him.

     “Don’t call me that,” she said, crossing her arms. “Only my alpha can call me that,” she huffed.

     “Oh,” he scoffed, “is he yours? He was mine first, though.” He stuck his tongue out. He was done being nice if she was going to give this kind of attitude. 

     “He likes me more anyway,” she said, laughing as he frowned. “He couldn’t take his hands off me,” she bragged.

     “Look at you,” he scoffed. “Are you even sick anymore? You look perfectly fine.”

     It was true, except for her possessive instincts bringing about this cat fight. She was coherent and had a productive conversation. She was really gaining more control over her actions, and Wooyoung was so happy. He didn’t even care if she was acting like a brat. At least she was getting better.

     “Will you bring him back?” she grumbled, sitting defeated against the wall. “They dragged him away like he was hurting me. I promise he wasn’t. We were just having fun.”

     Wooyoung chuckled. “That’s the problem, Pretty.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

     “She refuses to eat or leave her nest at all,” the nurse said with a sigh. 

     Wooyoung bit his lip, watching a similar situation unfold in their living room. Jongho was laying on the couch, his hair ungroomed and clothes unchanged just so he could get a glimpse of the scent he was taken away from. Seonghwa nudged him gently, asking him to come eat something, but the alpha barely acknowledged him. 

     “We fear-” 

     “We’ll bring her home.” Hongjoong looked purely professional rather than seething as he often did those days. He looked calm and smelled neutral.

     Wooyoung shot his eyes to Jongho, but the poor baby didn’t hear. He excitedly hopped over to the couch, but his collar was grabbed, and he was pulled back into Hongjoong.

     “Let’s go.”

     “We have almost no information about the patient,” the nurse said, flipping through the pages on her clipboard. “The first record of her existence is November 17th when she was admitted to the hospital.” She glanced at Hongjoong, the alpha smelling like pure disgust as he listened intently to her every word. “We don’t know why she went feral, but we’ve come to know her quite a bit in the past few months.” She smiled then, her eyes squinting in reassurance.

     Wooyoung nodded silently.

     “As I’d said on the phone, she’s in a depressed state due to being away from her… mate. This behavior isn’t uncommon, it’s just… she’s practically healthy.”

     “What?” Wooyoung gasped, looking from the nurse to Hongjoong in sudden excitement.

     “We’ve been monitoring her since her visit with Mr. Choi, and it has helped her significantly. She can form complex thoughts and sentences. She can communicate with others without relying purely on instinct. It’s just this one aspect that has her clinging to this thin string of omega control. She’s completely reliant on her mate, and we… to be frank, we’re unsure of what to do, as Mr. Choi… is not her mate.”

     Hongjoong nodded, biting his lip in slight frustration.

     “We will allow her to go home with you, but there are a few things you should be aware of.”

     Hongjoong knew little to nothing about ferality. He knew the basics that were taught in school, but he’d never needed to know much more than that. Wooyoung, however, had made himself an expert throughout his life, as he’d donated regularly to foundations such as these. He knew what they would need to do, but he would let the nurse lay it all on his hyung.

     The nurse took a deep breath. “Once the patient is completely of sound mind, she will immediately enter pre-heat. It will last two days at most before she will have to endure an unsuppressed heat.” She gazed sympathetically at the alpha. “Number two… I understand you and your pack have extremely demanding and busy schedules. The patient, as she isn’t exactly thinking clearly, won’t understand the concept of leaving and returning. Each time you leave, she’ll think you’re gone forever. Each time you come back, she’ll think you’ll stay forever. She can be… for lack of a better term… trained, but it’s unlikely her ferality will last that long.” She cleared her throat. “Lastly, the patient will remember everything when she returns to the surface. Her omega is in control right now, but she is witnessing everything. Please keep that in mind. She may be distressed or embarrassed once everything is over. You’ll want to ease her mind. Comfort her.” 

     Hongjoong nodded, taking a long, tired breath. “What about my pack?” he asked, knowing the answer wouldn’t be anything he liked. “There’s eight of us. Four alphas, one being me, three omegas, one being Wooyoung, and one beta. She won’t like that, will she?” 

     She chuckled. “Definitely not.” His lips fell into a thin line. “Mr. Choi and Mr. Jung have similar scents. That’s how this situation came about?” she asked, leaning in slightly with an intrigued look. 

     Wooyoung nodded.

     She hummed, thinking to herself. “You all live together?” They nodded again. “This is tough…” she mumbled. “She’s recovering nicely. We were watching the cameras closely, and she totally almost bit him.” She closed her mouth for a moment, watching as both of them raised their brows in shock. She cleared her throat, speaking before they could say anything rash. “But she didn’t. I mean, we wouldn’t have let her bite him, of course, but she stopped herself. She’s getting there, which is why we’re considering the possibility of moving her out at all. She might have the urge to attack your packmates, but I don’t think she will. It’s an issue that it’s a possibility at all, though. It would distress her and could harm the progress. However, it could also develop her control over her instincts, making her a bit more immune to ferality and its control over her mind and body.” She groaned. “It’s all very two-sided.”

     “So, what do you recommend?” Hongjoong asked, trying to piece together everything she was saying. 

     “I…” She scrunched her face and slowly swayed her head from side to side. “I recommend that Mr. Choi and Mr. Jung share a room and-”

     Hongjoong put his hand up, his lips pressed tightly together in a moment of silence. “You want the omega to share a living space with our baby alpha?” he asked in disbelief.

     The nurse glanced at Wooyoung, not exactly expecting those words. “Yes.”

     “That won’t do,” he sighed before leaning closer to the nurse. “Did you see them earlier?” he whispered.

     “Mr. Kim. What happened earlier was actually very significant to her recovery. Feral omegas don’t participate in sexual activities.” He scoffed. “Please understand. If the two are close together, she’ll recover very quickly. That is certain.”

     He chewed lightly on his lip before he sat back in his chair and motioned for her to continue off where she’d left before he interrupted.

     She cleared her throat. “After a few days, she’ll be used to the new environment. Introduce her very slowly to the other pack members. Start with the omegas. Then the betas. Then, with extreme, and I mean EXTREME, caution, the alphas.” She sighed, nodding as she thought over the plan a few times. 

     They nodded, feeling somewhat content with that answer. He could do that. Wooyoung and Jongho could fix their schedules and help her at every hour. They could do it.

“I just have one more question,” Hongjoong said, glancing at Wooyoung hesitantly, then back at the nurse. “It’s been months since she was first admitted, but she hasn’t had a heat. What does that… Does she get heats… while like that?”

     The nurse shook her head. “The pheromones build and build within until she regains full control over her body. Mm… I think it would be best to admit her to a heat sanctuary, as it will be very strong. Unless you have a proper conversation with the patient before her heat, admit her. If she tells you otherwise with a completely sound mind, then do as she wishes. It’ll be a frightening experience, so please help her with her requests. Also, during her stay, she has been on pheromone medication, which helps reorganize her pheromones but prevent her from getting pregnant. I assure you that condoms won’t be necessary in the event of a heat.”

     “Oh.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

     The alphas were a little unhappy to be kicked out of the dorm for the omega guest, as they’d be away from their pack for a while. The omegas and beta of the pack would be allowed to stay, though there were boundaries put into place. Jongho and Wooyoung would share their room and live with you until you recovered. 

     “Come on, Prettyyy,” Wooyoung whined, tugging at the determined omega’s arm. “We have to go hooome.” 

     She shook her head, breaking away from him. “I won’t go home with you. Bring me my alpha,” she demanded.

     “He’s at home!” he huffed. “We have to go there so you can see him!”

     She tilted her head. “I can see him if I go there?” she mumbled. 

     She sat in the front seat beside him, which he knew was probably a bad idea. Though the back seat might have been worse. 

     She fidgeted with the buttons, pressing each one in wonder as he swatted her hand away.

     You woke up snuggled delicately in fluffy, blissfully scented blankets. You didn’t feel the need to stir or panic. You were floating with your head light and limbs melted nicely into the fluff. When you felt a shift in the blankets, you were snatched from your dreamy state, and you shot up, panting as you looked to your right. 

     Your omega was stretched out on the other side of the bed, wrapped up in the arms of the similar scented alpha. His head was buried in his warm chest, and his hands were stuffed underneath the alpha’s shirt for the warmth of his bare skin. They snuggled close and shivered every few seconds, though they were definitely asleep. 

     You pouted as you pulled at your omega’s arm, peaking over him at your sleepy alpha. His lips puffed out as he squished his cheek into the soft pillow. You pulled the brat away from him without stirring any of them awake. Then, you slid over your omega to slot yourself into the puddle of sleepy warmth between them. You sighed, enveloped in their scents, as you pushed your body against the alpha. You were sandwiched tightly yet comfortably between them, and you let yourself fall limp as they squirmed gently to mold into you. You buried your nose in your alpha’s neck, purring softly. Only here could your mind clear even slightly. Your omega was constantly demanding control, but here… Here she was softly at bay.

     “Pretty,” your alpha groaned softly into your ear. You slowly opened your eyes with a happy curve to your lips as you woke up. “Keep your hands to yourself, okay?” he mumbled, his fingers wrapping gently around your wrists and pressing your hands down to your legs. 

     “I’m sorry, alpha,” you quietly said, wondering what you did to make him uncomfortable.

     His lips pressed together as he brought one of his hands away from your wrist to push back a few loose strands of your soft hair from your eyes. You closed your eyes and leaned into the subtle touch. He was such a perfect alpha, taking care of you when he didn’t have to.

     Then you did the same for him, glazing your fingertips over his forehead. You rested your hand on the side of his neck, your fingers rubbing gently over the hair behind his ear. He let you stay there, melting into his pillow at the delicate touch, but when you fingers lowered and grazed over the edge of his scent gland, you felt something on his skin there. He flinched, and he grabbed your wrist and pulled it away, breaking his eyes away from yours. 

     “Keep your hands to yourself,” he reminded, slowly pushing your hand to the bed. 

     You frowned, pushing your body a bit further into his sleepy warmth. “You don’t like it when I touch you?” you whimpered, and your mind went from one thought to another in a growing worry. “You don’t like me anymore? Alpha hates me?”

     He shook his head hurriedly. “No, Pretty, that’s not it,” he whispered. He brought his face closer until it was just an inch or two away from yours. “We’ll get in trouble. Wooyoung will yell at us.” 

     “Who is that,” you grumbled, scowling at the stupid reason you couldn’t be close to your alpha. You knew it was your omega speaking these harsh thoughts, but you kind of agreed. He said he was yours. You were meant for each other. You wanted to have him for yourself. You wanted to smell him. Touch him. Kiss him. Who the fuck could keep him from you.

     You kissed him. It was a little peck, but his eyes went wide in a panicked shock. He clasped his hand over his mouth as he shook his head.

     “Pretty, we can’t!” he whispered, backing away but freezing when he felt the slight graze of your hand over his crotch. He seemed to stop breathing as his hips twitched forward just slightly. “Omega,” he warned, his teeth grinding together and his eyes fluttering slightly.

     “No one will find out, alpha,” you whispered, ignoring the snoring body resting against your back, “as long as we’re quiet.”

     You pressed your hand firmly against the growing bulge in his pants. His brows knitted together as he bit his lip, looking down at your hand. His hips pushed forward with a soft gasp.

     He was so aroused, clearly fighting to keep composure as he bit his lip with a trembling jaw. He didn’t smell like it, though. His scent was still neutral, soft and nice. You sniffed, but you couldn’t smell those addictive pheromones you’d smelled at the facility. 

     “Alpha,” you mumbled. “Wanna smell you.”

     He shook his head with a shaky exhale. “Wooyoung will find out.”

     You moved your hand from his pants and reached behind his neck. He gasped, going to grab your wrist, but it was too late. You slid your hand to his scent gland and felt the odd thing sticking to his skin. You lifted one of its edges and stripped it away from him. Your pupils were blown in an instant as his raw, delicious pheromones hit your nose. 

     You whined, long and desperate, feeling drunk and needy from just a single breath in the new air. He cupped his hand over your mouth, leaning his forehead against yours as he took slow, deep breaths. 

     “Why don’t you listen?” he said softly. You heard the quiet, stuttering growls sizzling in his throat as he tried to resist his instincts. His hand on your cheek grew a little heavier as he pushed against your head. He stroked your hair in heavy, slow lines of frustration. “You smell so good,” he mumbled, his voice a low rumble.

     His hand lifted from your head and found your chin, gently raising it so that your head aligned with his. He didn’t kiss you. He just gazed into your eyes as you whined quietly for him. He frowned mockingly.

     “Does my omega want a kiss?” he cooed. 

     “Yes-” You gasped as his grip on your chin tightened.

     “Only good girls get kisses,” he growled, licking a slow stripe across his top teeth as he watched your eyes widen in distress. “Good girls listen.” 

     Your lip trembled as his hand left your chin and traveled down, down, leaving a trail of feather-light touches along your body. Your alpha was angry. You made him mad. You deserved to be punished.

     “Be quiet, okay?” he whispered, smiling sweetly. 

     His fingers slid underneath your shorts, and your core throbbed in anticipation with each inch of movement. When the tips of his fingers grazed your soaking slit, he whimpered softly. You pushed your hips against his fingers as they lowered into your thick slick. His gaze was low to the blanket covering you, his brows knitted as he longed to see the perfect mess he’d found between your legs. 

     “Pretty, is this for me?” he purred, subconsciously grinding his hips into the bed as he pushed his nose against yours.

     “Just for you,” you hummed, happy that he liked it.

     He pushed his middle finger through your folds and nudged your tight hole before hesitantly sliding it inside. You let out a happy moan before he covered your mouth with his hand again. He focused on the warm, thick feeling of your pussy as he pushed his finger all the way in, curling it into your walls.

     You ground your clit against his palm as your eyes rolled back in a newfound pleasure. You’d never felt something inside you like that. It was foreign but so perfect, sending little jolts of soft pleasure throughout your body with each slow thrust and curve of his finger. You gazed into his eyes, your vision hazy as you breathed in his thickening arousal. 

     You set a pace, grinding your hips softly against him as he rubbed your soaked walls. You whimpered, your lips pressed against his hand. His chest vibrated softly but gained intensity every few seconds. He growled as he pushed a second finger in. Your eyes squeezed shut for a moment as you let out a shaky breath. 

     “Alpha,” you whimpered. His eyes shot to yours in warning. You lowered your voice to a whisper. “It feels so good. I don’t know what to do,” you panted, pushing your hips hard against his palm with a choked gasp as he pushed his two fingers deep inside. “It feels so good, but it’s not enough.” 

     You pressed your hand against his bare stomach and slid it down beneath the elastic of his pants. He faltered in his movements and let you take his cock in your hand. He breathed warm and slow against your face, his pheromones struggling to suppress themselves in their instinct to dominate you. You stroked it once, and his fingers left your hole as he became vulnerable to the sudden pleasure. His head fell limp against the pillow with a soft whimper escaping his parted lips. His hand left your mouth and rested on the bed. You stroked it again, your thumb swiping lightly across the head to find it wet.

     “Is this for me?” you purred, delighting in the flushed nod he could barely give. He was so wet, just like you, practically drooling for you. “Does it feel good for alpha, too?” you whispered, gazing dazedly at his drunken, hazy expression as you set a slow, light pace in your strokes. 

     “Pretty, I wanna feel you,” he mumbled. “Please, please let me.” He pressed his lips together tightly, pleading with his eyes as you stopped your movement. When you didn’t answer, mesmerized by his gaze, he let out a small growl. “Come on, Pretty. It’ll feel so good. I’ll fuck you so good, Pretty, I promise.” He pouted a little, but his lips quickly twitched into a slight scowl. He raised his voice a little. The vibrations of his chest increased as his voice lowered and his words sharpened. “You’re so tight… I just need to ram into you until I’ve loosened you up. Until your pussy is shaped like my dick,” he growled. “But I promise I won’t cum until you tell me to,” he mumbled, his eyes flickering from desperation and demand. “Once you’re begging for my knot- fuck~ We’ll cum so hard, Pretty. I’ll fill you with my cum until you’re dripping in my scent. Fuck~ everyone will know you’re mine. You’ll be so full, Pretty.”

     You were slicking harder with each thought, drooling as you patiently waited to let him ravage you completely. With a simple nod, he grabbed your hips and shot to his natural spot between your legs. He was panting, drops of sweat streaming from his forehead to his lips, then onto your bare stomach. 

     He was frozen, though. He didn’t move. 

     “You’re such a bad boy.”

     Your head shot to your right, your eyes growing wide as you came face to face with a very conscious, blushing omega. Your alpha flinched at the words, his hands quickly leaving their sensual places on your body and falling to his sides. 

     “Hy-hyung…” he mumbled, lips trembling as his pupils contracted from their blown state. He stared in horror at the disappointed expression on your omega’s face. “I was- was-”

     “Pretty,” he said softly, turning his relaxed head toward the aroused omega beside him. “Alpha was being bad, wasn’t he?” he asked. You shook your head quickly, but he nodded with puckered lips. “He isn’t supposed to touch you, but he did anyway, huh?” You glanced at your horrified alpha. His lip trembled as he mumbled apologies. “Bad alphas need to be punished. Right?”

     “Please punish me, Hyung!” Your alpha said, his eyes squinting as he tried to hold in his frustrated tears. “I’ll do anything! I should’ve listened! I’m so sorry!”

     The omega chuckled. “Get off the bed, Jongho,” he demanded. “You know what to do.”

     You frowned in confusion as your alpha’s warmth left you and he stood in front of the bed. He immediately stripped. His sweatpants and shirt fell to the floor. Your pupils dilated at the perfect sight of your bare alpha. You climbed to the edge of the bed, gazing in awe at his big, painfully hard cock. His smooth stomach and fucking perfect thighs. Your alpha was so fucking hot. 

     “Come here, pretty,” Wooyoung gently called. You let out a curious little noise as you crawled toward him, dragging your eyes away from your alpha’s body. Your omega patted the spot between his legs with a welcoming smile. You plopped down there, your back to his chest, and he immediately buried his nose in your neck, purring like a happy omega. You brought your hands above your head and intertwined your fingers through his fluffy hair, bringing his lips to your skin with a soft sigh from both of you. 

     “Hyung,” your alpha whimpered, drawing both of your content attention back to him. “You said not to touch her.”

     “I’m not touching her, baby bear,” he cooed. “She’s touching me.” He leaned his chin against her shoulder, smiling slyly at the alpha. “Now, Pretty,” he whispered. You leaned your head back against his chest with a sigh. “Jongie needs to be punished. Will you help me?”

     “Yes,” you mumbled, enjoying your view thoroughly.

     He softly touched your hips, pulling lightly at your shorts. “Let’s take these off then,” he whispered.

     You felt so exposed and bare for your alpha, your legs wide and resting over your omega’s legs. Your shirt clumped at your hips as the cool air hit your soaked core. You rested nicely against your omega as his pretty hands did all of the work. Alpha was focused intently on your dripping cunt, cock throbbing and twitching as Wooyoung’s fingers caressed the dip between your thighs and pretty lips. Jongho’s hands were balled into painfully tight fists at his sides as he panted with each anticipating twitch of your fluttering pussy. 

     “Isn’t she so pretty?” Wooyoung cooed, gaining a hurried nod from the alpha. “Did you touch her down here already? She must’ve liked it a lot, huh?” He finally let his finger dip into the puddle of slick between your pussy lips and groaned. “I mean, look at this mess.”

     Jongho nodded again, his head trembling as he took slow breaths.

     “You said you wouldn’t cum until she said so, right, Jongie?” Wooyoung said, giggling when the alpha’s eyes grew a little wide in guilt. “I know you won’t be able to hold it in,” he sighed. “So you can’t touch yourself. Absolutely not. You can only watch. If you can do that, we’ll let you cum, okay?” 

     Jongho looked devastated, but he nodded, gritting his teeth. “Yes, Hyung.”

     Wooyoung smirked. “Good boy.” Wooyoung pressed his lips to your ear and hummed quietly. “Pretty,” he whispered, quiet enough for just you to hear. “You’re okay if I touch you, right?”

     “Yes,” you breathed. “I-I can think clearly right now, so don’t worry about me. I w-want it,” you whimpered, blushing lightly as he planted a soft kiss on your cheek. 

     Wooyoung’s veiny hand flexed as he plunged two of his fingers as deep into your throbbing hole. You squeeked, your back arching as his fingertips rammed into your walls all so suddenly. He hit such a fucking good spot as he thrust in and out. You bit your lip hard as your eyes rolled and your moans and whimpers echoed throughout the room. You panted, forcing your eyes to watch his fingers work you open, squelching as he spread your slick all over your walls and pussy, dripping onto the white sheets. Then you lazily brought your trembling eyes to Jongho, a shaking, hard mess in front of you. His eyes were glued to your pussy, his cock twitching with each sob you moaned. 

     “Woo-Wooyoung?” you mumbled, your voice light and unsure. He hummed against your skin, his hot breath fanning over your bare neck. “Can- can you slow down, please?” His fingers immediately slowed, and he pressed a soft kiss to your neck, still stroking your insides gently. His other hand caressed your thigh soothingly as he purred against your back. 

     “What’s wrong, Pretty? Does it hurt?” he asked quietly. 

     “N-no,” you mumbled, “I’m gonna cum soon. Don’t wanna yet…”

     “Oh “ he cooed, leaning his cheek against yours as he looked up at Jongho. “Did you hear that, alpha? She’s gonna cum soon.”

     Jongho groaned, his nails scratching lightly at his thighs as he made eye contact with you for the first time in a while.

     Wooyoung attached his thumb to your sensitive clit, and you gasped, reaching for his hand to stop him as he rolled the bud delicately. You moaned as the fucking best sensation overrode your senses. He plunged his fingers back inside and set a harsh pace against your gushy g-spot. You clenched your teeth, inhaling sharply with each thrust.

     “She’s gonna make a mess when she cums, right, Jongie?” 

     Jongho nodded, immediately seeing where the omega was going with it. 

     “Come on, alpha,” he growled. “Get on your knees.”

     Jongho dropped to his knees. His eyes aligned with your glistening pussy, and he whimpered at the pulsing sight of Wooyoung ravaging your hole with his fingers. 

     “Woo- Stop.. mmm~ hh-! Please… ngh… I’m gonna-!” 

     You begged, tears falling from each eye, because there was no way you were supposed to feel so good. You’d never felt so good. The pleasure kept building as he repeatedly pounded his fingers at the perfect spot, rubbing at your clit and kissing your neck. You began to tremble, your entire body shaking as the pressure collapsed and your orgasm took over. Your mouth hung as you let out urgent moans of pure ecstacy. It was so fucking good that your eyes rolled back and stayed there until your vision was pure white and static. Wooyoung rode you through your high, slowing his pace until you were limp, quiet, and trembling in his arms. 

     “Such a good girl,” Wooyoung whispered, wiping your tears with his clean hand with gentle little swipes. “You felt so good, huh?” You nodded, slowly opening your eyes as you tried to catch your breath. 

     You glanced down at Jongho, his eyes glued to your pussy as he licked his lips in anticipation. 

     “Alpha’s gonna clean us up, okay?” he said, his fingers motioning Jongho to join you on the bed. 

     The alpha crawled up to you, his eyes hardly moving from his target. Once he was close enough, Wooyoung pressed his wet fingers to Jongho’s lips. They parted easily, the alpha’s eyes rolling back at the remnants of your arousal. He sucked on Wooyoung’s digits with quiet little groans as the omega praised him for his reactions. 

     “Come on, Jongie,” Wooyoung said, popping his fingers from his lips. “Your omega is still so messy.”

     Jongho dipped his head between your thighs. His messy hair tickled your stomach as he breathed in your raw scent. His warm breath fanned over your cold skin, but he didn’t stay there for long. He quickly started to lap at your cunt, and you tensed at the overstimulation. He was gentle yet eager as he licked a thick strip from your abused and needy hole to your quivering clit. You hissed lightly at the slight pain in the gentle pleasure, but the sight of his gaze fixed on yours made your arousal spike from its sedated state. He swallowed your slick, kissing and sucking at your clit and lips. 

     You were panting, pushing your hips toward his beautiful face as you chased your second orgasm. You didn’t want it like this, though. Your need for release was much deeper than the surface of your pussy. You needed to be pleasured much deeper.

     “Woo-Wooyoung,” you mumbled, your hips grinding against him as his tongue slipped into your soaked hole. “F-fuck me,” you whimpered. “Pleeaase, please fuck me, shit- ngh~!” Wooyoung giggled against your cheek, his arms wrapping tightly around you, positioned just below your breasts. 

     “What about Jongho? He’s been so good. You don’t wanna reward him?” he teased, his fingers patting your sides lightly. “You don’t want his knot?” Wooyoung hadn’t really meant to say it. He was so fucked out just from watching everything go down. He had said it, though.

     Jongho’s head shot up, his eyes wide and pupils blown. His lips were swollen, and his chin was shining with your slick. He licked his lips as he stared eagerly at your dazed expression. 

     “His knot?” 

     You’d never taken an alpha’s knot before. You’d only ever been used by another omega for their pleasure. An alpha… pleasuring you? Knotting you?

     “Do you wanna knot me, Jongho?” you asked quietly. He nodded immediately, scooting just a bit closer.

     Wooyoung’s eyes widened in confusion. “Are you up for it, Jongie?” He didn’t look uncertain at all, and it worried Wooyoung more than it would’ve if he’d been cautious about his answer. Jongho had never knotted anyone. He was always too scared that it would hurt like it did during his rut.

     “Wooyoung,” he whimpered, his lips quivering into a frown. “I wanna make her feel good. Will she feel good i-if I give her my knot?” 

     “Oh, baby,” Wooyoung cooed, reaching out and cupping the alpha’s cheek lovingly. “Come here.”

     Jongho came closer, his knees spreading to rest under your and Wooyoung’s legs. You watched in awe as Wooyoung pressed a soft kiss to Jongho’s lips before he took his leaking cock in his delicate fingers. 

     “It’ll feel so good,” Wooyoung said, smiling sweetly as he lined Jongho’s cock to your entrance. 

     You felt the tip nudge at your hole, and you gasped. It was big in your hands, but next to your core, you could really tell just how big he was. He could definitely reach that aching spot deep in your arousal. 

     Jongho took slow breaths as Wooyoung urged him to push inside. He bit his lip, his eyes squeezing shut as he popped the tip inside. You whimpered, the feeling of being stretched that wide so unfamiliar but so nice. Jongho hung his head as the pleasure of the slow push inside overtook all of his senses. Your quiet squeaks and moans that grew the deeper he went, your tight walls sucking him in, the scent of your slick and arousal filling the air. When he was completely inside, he had to stop and stare at the connections between you. He was inside of someone. He was inside of you. It felt so fucking good. He knew if he moved, he’d cum right away.

     Your lips were parted as you took slow, deep breaths. You were so full. Jongho stayed there as he tried to gather himself, and all you could think of was how much you wanted him to move and hit that deep spot with each thrust. 

     His hands were gripping the sheets at his sides, his eyes flickering from place to place along your body. He was trembling as he tried to restrain himself from rutting against you.

     “Alpha,” you whimpered, reaching out your arms for him to come closer. He was hesitant to lean in, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing his face to your scent gland with a trembling breath. “You can touch me,” you mumbled. “Please touch me.”

     He slowly moved his hands from his sides to your hips and squeezed them gently. He kissed your neck lightly and breathed there in your aroused scent as he shifted his hips impatiently.

     Wooyoung threaded a hand through the alpha’s hair lovingly. “Come on, baby. Make her feel good.”

     Jongho pulled his hips away just slightly, trembling at the tight restraints around his cock. Then, he pushed it back in with a short growl. He was quick to pull out and thrust in again, growling again as he pressed his teeth softly to your neck. 

     “Ngh~! J-Jongho~” you moaned, holding him to you much tighter as he rutted his hips against yours, gasps and stuttered deep growls falling from his lips. He grazed his teeth along your neck, licking and mumbling nonsense against your skin. Your moans came in quick spurts with each thrust against your cervix. 

     “Mine…ghh…” he growled against your neck. “Gonna take my knot like a good girl?” he asked, licking a thick strip up to your jaw and smiling against your ear. “You keep squeezing me like you want me to cum inside. Want my cum, Pretty?”

     He purred as he felt you tense at his words. He slammed his hips against yours, the pleasure shooting in strong waves throughout your body. Your eyes rolled back as he kept this new pace with firm thrusts and needy grunts. 

     “Good girl,” he purred. “Fuck~ You’re such a good omega, Pretty,” he praised, whining softly against your skin as he buried his head in your shoulder. “So good~ So nghh good…” 

     He kissed your scent gland softly before opening his mouth wide, his eyes rolling back as your pussy tightened in its chase for its second orgasm. Wooyoung placed a quick hand over your gland before Jongho latched his teeth to the skin. He bit the omega’s hand with a disappointed whine.

     Even so, the alpha’s knot grew steadily. Both of you were panting as he sat up and grabbed your hips. He pulled them down against his thrusts at a quick, desperate pace. Your tearful eyes spilled over as you watched him growl and whimper at your squelching, overflowing pussy. He watched himself disappear with each pleasured thrust.

     “Knot~” you cried. “Want it nghh~ Knot me pleeaase.” You were begging, your jaw dropped as your orgasm built closer, nearly there. 

     His bulge was growing, stretching your entrance more each thrust. He hit his lip, a single tear slipping as he moaned until his knot finally slipped inside.

     You screamed, your head pushing against Wooyoung’s shoulder as your orgasm washed through your entire body. Jongho filled you with his warm cum with a long, dazed moan. You both were sobbing in pure ecstasy as pleasure took over every single thought, muscle, and sense. 

     Everything slowed down, and your ears could finally hear again. You heard heavy breaths and fast heartbeats. You saw Jongho’s hooded eyes as he looked over your fucked out body and expression. He was flushed and sweaty, his hair messy, damp, and curled in front of his eyes. 

     Your tear stained cheeks were kissed by a panting Jongho as he leaned over you. He pressed soft kisses all over your sweaty face and neck. He purred, his chest pressed to yours in a loose, tired hug. 

     You felt so full, but in an instinctually content way. This was how you were meant to be. Your alpha covered you in gentle warmth, his seed deep inside, his cock plugging the hole that belonged to him. It made you so sleepy. Safe and sleepy.

     “You did so good, Jongie,” Wooyoung purred. “It felt good, didn’t it?”

     Jongho hummed, his voice low and rough from his performance a few seconds before. “So good,” he mumbled, grinding his hips lightly against yours. You both groaned at the feeling, a spike of soft pleasure alarming your quieted arousal. 

     “Stay still, alpha,” Wooyoung said, stroking his hair gently. “Wait for it to go down.”

     He nodded, raising his head and sitting up a bit. It disturbed the stillness of your position and brought another soft moan to your lips. Jongho frowned. Once he was completely sitting up, he looked down at where you were connected and took a deep breath.

     “What’s wrong, Jongie?” Wooyoung asked, but he was quickly answered by the spike of aroused pheromones from the alpha. 

     Jongho looked up with a trembling lip and tears in his eyes. “Feels so good,” he mumbled. “I want more.” He sniffed. “But I can’t, right?”

     Wooyoung frowned sympathetically. He knew you probably couldn’t take an entire new round. Jongho was rough, and you were inexperienced to the exhaustion that came with an alpha’s knot. Your eyes were hardly open, your head limp against his shoulder. You were too fucked out, too out of it to even register the conversation. 

     His knot still locked you together, so Wooyoung was careful when laying you softly on the mattress, your head on the pillow so you could comfortably drift off to sleep.

     Jongho was completely hard again, panting and flushed as he forced himself to stay still. Wooyoung knelt beside him and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

     “Our baby alpha’s so knot drunk, huh?” he teased, watching as Jongho nodded, probably not even understanding a word the omega was saying. He just wanted to feel good again. “It’s alright, baby,” he cooed. “I’ll let you fuck me, okay?”

     Jongho didn’t answer. His eyes went wide, and his need to rut was getting fucking . Wooyoung stripped, his cock so fucking hard and slick streaming down his thighs from having to watch everyone else feel good without him. 

     As soon as Jongho’s knot went down, he slid out of you slowly and patiently. Then he immediately pinned Wooyoung to the bed, growling eagerly as he thrusted his cock into the omega’s waiting pussy. He let out a vocal, satisfied sigh as he stroked the omega’s walls with his thick, needy cock. The omega purred, moaning happily as Jongho set an uncontrolled pace. His hyung could take it. He folded Wooyoung’s knees over his arms and rammed into his hole, watching his cock bounce uselessly on his stomach.

     Wooyoung’s eyes rolled back, drool slipping down his cheek as he let the alpha take him raw and hard. It was so rewarding after practically begging the man to fuck him for months. Jongho’s breath hitched as he quickly began to lose himself again. Wooyoung was so perfect for his huge cock. He took him so well, his hold meant for this rough treatment. Fuck, he would do this every day. He would make his hyung feel good if it meant he could feel like this.

     “H-hyung!” he moaned, folding over and smashing his lips to Wooyoung’s. “Hyung!” he cried against his lips, rutting into the omega without even pulling out properly. He was so desperate to cum again, to fill his hyung and be a good boy. His knot was growing, and his thrusts became harsher as he forced his bulging cock in and out. 

     “Fuck! Jongho!” Wooyoung screamed as the alpha bruised his g-spot with each ravaging ram of his hips. “Fuck, what a good boy ngh~! So good! Shit, baby, keep going… knot me, Jongie mm~!”

     “Hyung, I’m gonna-!” Wooyoung smashed their lips together, his tongue lapping against his, tasting him and swallowing his moans as he pushed his knot inside.

     Jongo came with muffled cries of pure pleasure as he painted Wooyoung’s walls white. Wooyoung pushed his hips up with a gasp as he left Jongho’s lips and dropped his jaw, rolling his eyes to squeeze them shut. Ropes of cum shot from his untouched cock, covering his chest and dripping from his chin. Wooyoung panted heavily as spurts of cum dripped from his cock for second after second. He could hardly calm down, even when his high had passed. He trembled and whimpered quietly, his cock falling limp on his stomach.

     “You two are so beautiful,” Jongho said, gazing in awe at his two dazed, flushed omegas. Your eyes were hardly open, but you managed to smile at him, a small blush returning to your cheeks. Wooyoung was too stuck in his thoughts to hear the alpha at all.

     “Hyung?” Jongho mumbled, a little worried he'd overdone it.

     “Jongho,” he started, his voice dead serious. Jongho swallowed hard. Had he not done a good job after all? “How… did you make me cum that much… completely untouched?”

     “What?” 

     “Not even an orgasm. You made me cum. A lot.” His eyes were wide and confused.

     “Um…”

     Wooyoung sat up quickly and pushed Jongho onto his back, following him with his hips to keep them connected. 

     “Do it again.”

     “What?!”

     The door slammed against the wall, and an angry beta stormed into the room. “Ya!”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

     “I’m seriously fine,” you insisted. 

     You smiled awkwardly at the beta, San, who was constantly trying to peel Jongho from you. The alpha was attached to you, his arms wrapped around your torso as he buried his nose in the nape of your neck. He was sulking. He was upset that he’d been bad for his hyungs again and touched you, though it was 100% Wooyoung’s fault.

     “Why don’t you ever hug me?” Wooyoung mumbled, glaring at the alpha as he silently sniffled into your scent.

     “I’m sorry, for causing trouble,” you said, taking a deep breath as you were finally able to say what you’d been thinking the whole time. “Wooyoung, I can’t thank you enough for taking me in.” You were going to cry. “You really saved me. They would’ve…”

     Jongho squeezed you tighter, almost protectively as he heard your words and smelled your souring scent. It calmed you quickly, and you took a shaky breath.

     “I’ll repay your kindness, I promise. For now, I’ll stop causing you trouble and lea-”

     “You can stay,” Wooyoung interrupted. “You can stay. If you want to. We want you to stay.”

     Jongho nodded against your shoulder.

     You stared at him in silence. Stay? You’d always been on the run. You’d never had a home because of your debt. You turned to San, who nodded casually.

     “We want you to join our pack,” San explained. “But you should get to know us first. And… our situation is a bit unique. But we’d love to have you. After everything, you’re already family to Wooyoung and Jongho. So… you’re family to all of us.”

     This man you’d just met was saying that. Even after all of the trouble you’d caused Jongho and Wooyoung, they still wanted you. 

     “You can think about-”

     “I’ll stay,” you said, completely certain. Jongho purred against you, his lips forming a big smile. “I don’t think Jongho would let me leave anyway.”

a/n ~ Thank you so much for reading!! I hope the plot wasn't too bulky compared to the smut. I tried to find a balance. I really hope you liked it! Please let me know what you thought!!

mwa ᯓᡣ𐭩

[goldsbitch]

Hello hello! I am still absolutely obsessed with the "Fire" fic you wrote. You are such a talented writer omg, the storytelling, the humour, everything!

So I thought, I have an idea for a funny fic and I'm just gonna send it in LOL I remember Lando saying in an interview that he's really scared when he's the passenger. So what if his GF is speeding all the time and Lando is just internally freaking out and sweating while trying to keep his cool next to her?

Just an idea, if you don't wanna write it that's fine too (:

omg omg omg thank you so much! i'm blushing and i'm scared - hopefully you'll like this one! i added a detail that might be little over the top - but who knows? not me anymore.

I'll drive

"You have a car?!" Lando uttered, forgetting any table manners, the food he had been chewing nearly falling out of his mouth.

Y/N was dead silent, the look on her face strongly resembling a child who lied about cleaning their room and just blushed every toy under their bed.

Her boyfriend gave her a cheeky questioning look, and when it finally set in - the fact she had been hiding the existence of her car from him - he was truly stunned and somewhat amused.

"So, wait. You know how to drive?! Why am I always taking you places?" he asked rhetorically, never actually being bothered by that, but still.

"I don't know how to drive-" she tried before getting interrupted by her father.

"Of course she does, I taught her myself," the jolly man said and patted her on her back with a proud smile. Y/N's face got washed with crocked smile, as if she swallowed something truly detestable.

"No, I do not know how to drive-"

"Nonsense, she's alway been so hard on herself," he father continued. Y/N just sighed.

The young couple came to visit her hometown for the first time. It was lot of reminescing of old times and her school days - a context that Lando very much appreaciated. He had met her as a grown up woman, but that weekend, he witnessed many amusing moments and heard lots of stories that only childhood small towns hold. What did he love the most about this experience? The fact there was nothing for her to do to stop it, no matter how much she frowned. Influx of surprising moments, but this discovery topping all of them.

She saw Lando's perplexed face and tried to save the situation. "I never lied to you, technically you never asked...I just figured you like driving so much, why bother, especially if I am so bad at it..."

Lando was not having it. "Oh, you're not getting easily out of this one," he replied, biting his lower lip, actively having to remind himself of the fact her family was right there. There was something innately attractive about her being so raw and pushed into a corner. Just pure cuteness. "I'm sure you're not half as bad as majority of the people out there," he said, new plans forming in his head. "I think you and I should take her for a spin," he said, referring to the car, and hid his smile behind a glass. Her eyes were piercing his with an energy so intense, it was electrifying.

"No, Lando, I am not driving while you're in the same car," she stated firmly, not breaking the eye contact.

"Come one, sweetheart, it'll be fun," he said, honey dripping out of his mouth.

"It will be anything but that," she said, but Lando ignored that, turning into her father for more information.

"So what kind of a car it?"

The rest of the conversation continued in description of a car Y/N herself could only describe as red, her father telling a story about how he got it for his daughter and how she actually barely ever drove it, which apparently broke his heart.

//

Let's not forget, this was Lando - of course he had ulterior motives. While it was great, spending few wholesome days in the company of his girlfriends family, his frustration grew, because for some reason, she refused to have any intimate activities in her family's house. Why, he had no idea. But of course, he respected that.

She never mentioned anything about not having some nice outdoor sex in a car. He wanted to see her drive and also ride. His perfect afternoon.

Lando is not the best of passengers, often uneasy about the common mistakes casual drivers made. Taking over the wheel is a natural thing for him to do. But, this was an exception he was excited to make - how bad could it be, right? He learned the hard way not to ask that question again.

//

"You sure you don't want to switch places?" she asked, once again, doing everything she could to get out of this.

"Nope babe, passenger seat is the vibe for me today," he smirked, making himself overly comfortable sitting next to her.

She raised her eyebrows. "Here goes nothing, I guess," she murmured and put the keys into ignition.

Lando found it amusing, seeing her so hyper-focused, as if she was launching a rocket ship. To be fair, it was a manual car - so it was close.

Three deep breaths - I fucking hate this, she thought, turned the key and released the clutch. When the car immediately jumped, Lando regretted sitting in his usual obscure way, his head hitting the door with quite a loud bump.

"Told ya," she said and started the car again. No matter how much she tried, she couldn't possibly sell her mistake as an intention.

"You released the clutch too soon," he said while assessing the bump forming on his head.

"Do not give me advice when I drive, makes me angry," she announced and this time actually managed to start the car in a semi-ok way.

Lando watched his bubbly, happy-go-lucky, girlfriend turn into a monster and there was nothing for him to do to stop it.

Everything was somewhat fine when they were still on the quiet roads surrounding her neighborhood. She stopped on the way to the main road, watching two cars that were comically far away and letting them pass. They didn't have to say anything, both knew what the other one was thinking. Y/N knew there was plenty of time for her to join the road before those cars, but the lack of trust in her own abilities was making her wait stubbornly. Lando watched the scenery, amused and starting to understand that in this relationship, his place as the driver was more than secure. She didn't want to be in this position, in fact she was increasingly more mad, that Lando and her father teamed up on her. But since she was where fate got her, she was absolutely not accepting Lando smirking at her.

"I know what you think, we have plenty of time, so I will not be doing some stupid moves to get us both killed," she said and gripped the steering wheel even more.

To prove his point, Lando leaned over her and squirted his eyes and watched the slowly approaching cars. He gave her a sarcastic nod. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm joking, I'm joking," he said, putting his hands in defense.

"You better be, otherwise I'll just yeet us into the ditch."

"Feisty..."

And that was when the line got crossed.

"Fine!" she said, having no control over her emotions, and pressed the gas with new found energy. She turned, almost into a drift, and joined the main road, nearly having the two cars crash into her.

Lando gripped the handle, not expecting her to speed so much. His eyes went wide with realizations - she was the kind of driver operating on emotions. Had this been a racing track and an F1 car, he'd be having more fun, knowing the cars were epitome of safety. He was not so sure about this vehicle.

She had the "Tsunoda" energy and absolute lack of skill to go about it. Weaving, wrong gear almost constantly and not bothered by the sound her car was making.

"You're driving quite close to the lane, baby," he commented, getting more and more worried about their safety.

"Shut up, don't be all smart about it," she said, lips locked in a line. She was focused - not that it helped.

Another hard turn where she missed the right moment to go into it. Lando took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second, trying to stay calm.

After few hundred metres, he couldn't take it again.

"I think you're way over the speeding limit," he mentioned.

"That's not what this says," he nodded to her speedometer. Lando leaned over and had to laugh.

"Yeah, that's definitely not correct. Honey, I'm sorry, but the lane - you are too close to it," he said in the calmest tone he could gather.

"My brain does not work like that, I see it more in an abstract way..."

His eyes nearly popped out. "You see the road in an abstract way? Oh dear god."

She sighed, not understanding what was the big deal was. "No like, it's a concept. It's not real, if there is nobody on the road, you can be anywhere."

"I'm pretty sure that's not the case, sweetheart," he said and thought for himself that it could be the case if she knew how to drive, but not like that. "Change the gear, you're burning your clutch."

She slapped the steering wheel. "I. Do not. Accept. Advice. At the moment. Thank you!" she said slowly before going on a rampage. "We both know you're exceptionally good at this, it was your idea, I tried to stop you, so now face the situation and do not tell me what to do because I might panic even more!"

"Ok, ok, calm down," he said, putting his hands up in defense and turning his head away to avoid watching her inventing a new way how to turn the steering wheel.

This sent her over the edge, truly giving up on any rules. She was mad, scared, uncomfortable and kind of hungry to be honest.

Lando stayed silent, worried for his life, regretting his decision and making a mental note to listen to her if she says she can't do something - if they survive this.

A huge bump and a loud noise. She barely managed to keep the car on the road.

"What is that?" she screamed, not knowing what to do.

"Front left tire puncture, retire the car! I mean, shit, stop, over there," he gestured, to the sideline of the road.

//

"Ok, so what now?" she said once it seemed like a decent amount of time for him to stop observing the wheel.

"It's just the tire, I'm sure you've got a spare at the back, right?" he asked and like the gentleman he was, got up and looked in the back for a replacement. When he got it out, he proudly put it in front of her, considering his part of the job done. She stared at him, not moving. "There you go," he said, encouraging her. "They taught you how to do this at driving school."

"Um, yeah. I missed that lesson. Can you do it?"

"How could you miss that lesson?" he asked in desperation. Both of them stood there, waiting for the other to take the lead. It was very unusual for Y/N to see him this passive around a car. "Come on, you must have had a question about this on your test," he pleaded.

And then it clicked. "Lando?" she asked, having a very strange feeling about his behavior. "Do you know how to change a tire?"

He stayed silent, pretending to ignore her question. Y/N's eyes went wide. "Oh my god, you don't know how to change a tire?!" she asked once again, unable to believe that could even be the case. "Isn't that like half of your job?"

"Well no, actually, my job is to drive. There is a whole team dedicated for changing my tires," he said matter-o-factly.

"You're a racing driver. Spend more time in a car than in a bed. And you don't know how to change a tire," she stated and started to laugh. "That's so rich."

He let out a heavy sigh. "I've never actually done it myself. Plus these are normal tires, different system."

"Oh my god," she said, unable to process.

The way how much this whole thing has backfired had Lando stuck. He was suppose to be engaging in inappropriate activities with his girlfriend at this moment. In his understanding of that, it did not include getting his phone out and searching for an online tutorial for bloody tire change. But, there he was. Y/N was suddenly having so much fun, coming off a high that was the adrenaline her body produced during driving. She was free and driving was impossible now. Bliss. In her opinion, this was all Lando's fault - she told him she couldn't drive. Payback time - hopefully Oscar would pick up.

She was dialing her phone, while he was trying to understand how to go about this.

Yes, he picked up! "Hi, this is Y/N," she said in a very serious tone. "Who are you calling?" Lando mouthed, his biggest worry that she dialed up her father and he is now going to have a reputation until the end of time. "Help," she mouthed back silently.

"Hi Y/N," was Oscar's response, the driver being somewhat confused as to why she was calling him. "What's up?"

"Glad you ask. Me and my boyfriend got into a serious situation."

"You and Lando?"

Lando frowned. "Are you calling assistance? We don't need them..."

She ignored him."Yes, I was forced to drive-"

"He let you drive?"

"Forced-"

"What kind of assistance is it?" Lando asked, doubting the whole phone call.

Y/N continued without pausing. "And we managed to get a flat tire, which I don't know how to fix and to surprise of the whole universe, he can't fix as well."

There was only laughter on the other end of the call.

"Y/N, who are you calling?"

Y/N pretended not the hear Lando. "Do you know how to change a tire?"

Oscar was more than amused, knowing he just gained a wild card to use on Lando anytime he would want. "Yes, of course I do. Put me on Facetime with him."

Y/N smirked at her boyfriend, who was still confused and with sparkles in her eyes handed him her phone.

"Oscar says hi!"

Lando blinked, several times. "What? No!...Shit. Hey Oscar," he waved at his teammate awkwardly.

"I have been summoned," Oscar announced, finding this all very amusing.

"Yes," Lando replied, defeated.

Oscar did not wait and took the situation in charge. "First step to do is make yourself seen, guys. You got a triangle?"

"Where's the bloody bucket hat when you need it the most..." Y/N mumbled, having Lando roll his eyes in reaction.

"I'll go and find it and you guys figure this out, ok?" she said handing over the phone to Lando and giving him a little peck on the cheek.

"I hate you," he said with a smile.

"I hate you more," she replied and skipped over to the trunk.

//

After series of creative curse words, one pair of ruined jeans and a celebratory high five, the pair stood once again in front of her car, staring at each other.

"I guess I'll drive us back," Lando decided loudly and waited for her approval.

"Agree. Let's not disturb the gods anymore. You're such a bad passenger princess anyway."

The past hour was filled with lot of conflicting emotions, but the only one that stayed was the love the two shared just by looking at each other.

"I'm sorry I forced you into this," Lando apologized softly. "It was not fair. I see that now."

Her lips turned into a weak smile. "Thank you. And sorry for calling Oscar. I'm sure he won't let you forget this."

He see right though her. "No, you're not sorry about that - I can see the devil in your eyes."

She bit her tongue. "Yup."

It was hard for Lando not to kiss her in that moment. It was impossible for her to resist.

[ozzgin]

A nice character with a yandere split persona. The Yandere persona was born out of the abandonment of the character by a loved one, maybe mom. Did he kill her just so she could stay? Maybe. Only the Yandere persona knows, the character is oblivious, he just knows his mom left him. But he oddly feels ok about it as though the situation has been reconciled... which is weird to him.

Now he meets and falls in love with yn. She must not leave. It's f around and find out

Btw I love you ❤️❤️❤️ The Yokai series is my fave

Oooh, I’ve been thinking of a context for your idea and I somehow got stuck on a serial killer who is unaware of it most of the time. Since you mentioned abandonment and obsession, my mind wandered to some of the typical habits, such as collecting trophies. I’ve also been wanting to try my hand at writing a serial killer, so hopefully it turns out to your liking. (Sending back the love, always a pleasure to see your comments ❤)

Although let me include a little disclaimer, because I am aware many things in the sphere of true crime are problematic: this in no way glorifies or romanticizes serial killers. Just a reminder that this is a work of fiction and all behaviors displayed are for the sake of an interesting story, not to be admired in real life.

Yandere! Serial Killer x Reader

You're temporarily staying with a kind, quiet man renting out a room in the house he inherited. It's just the two of you, and a locked bedroom he claims to be vacant. Yet as night falls, you hear the whispered arguing of a voice you don't recognize. Is anyone else there?

[Part 2] | [More original works]

Content/TW: female reader, mentions of murder, obsessive behavior, horror

You must break the pattern today, or the loop with repeat tomorrow

He stares at the locked drawer of the bureau. The clock ticking in the background fades into an irritating buzz, drumming against his ears at irregular intervals like a swarm of insects. Once again, he cannot remember where the key is. Yet he does not feel compelled to search for it. It cannot be anything of significance, he tells himself. Forgotten knick-knacks, perhaps. Despite the apparent lack of curiosity, he is drawn here every morning. He wakes up, carefully folds the sheets, and goes to sit in the office. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Until, at last, the noon hour strikes, and the hallways are flooded with ghastly chimes.

Lately, however, other sounds have taken over the usual silence that envelops the house. The main door rattles faintly before opening with a creak.

“They were out of our bread rolls. I got a baguette instead.”

It’s you.

He stands up, as if startled from deep slumber, and hurries downstairs to greet you. He takes the grocery bags from your hands, flashing a smile of gratitude. Somehow, the idea of another person living here is still foreign to him. He’s gotten so used to the solitude, the quietness of the house. Time stands still when there’s no one else to remind you of it.

You glance up at the tall man, noticing his slight frown.

“Another brain fog?” You ask, worried.

“Don’t mind me. It’s a morning routine at this point”, he jokes. “More importantly, what would you like for breakfast?”

He always cooks for both of you. Initially, you were rather hesitant to go for his offer. You’d been looking for temporary accommodation and stumbled upon his advertisement. A cozy, vintage house the man had inherited from his lamentably departed mother, with one too many spare rooms. He had no need for all the space, he said in his description. You paid him a visit and were taken aback by his appearance. A massive, muscular frame that did not fit the rest of his mannerisms and features. He was soft-spoken, polite, and terribly shy. His eyes reflected the kind of gloom to be expected from anyone in his situation.

A sweet, gentle soul looking for company. On top of that, if you are to be technical, he’s a housemate difficult to compete against. Well-kept, mannered, organized, and thoughtful. He keeps to himself. You’d learned, soon after moving in, that he suffers from the occasional brain fog and memory loss. He goes for walks at odd hours to clear his mind. Enjoys reading in his office, although you’ve caught him just staring into space many times. Terribly inconvenient for the poor lad, you imagine.

The house itself is also not a bad deal by any means. Old fashioned, littered with trinkets and paintings. “My mother liked to collect many things”, he’d told you. It certainly has personality, to put it mildly. Some belongings are more bizarre than others: portraits of faceless people, with features smudged or distorted, doll heads in pompous, feathered collars hanging in clusters across the musty walls. Peculiar, but manageable.

Only at night does it become unsettling.

“Going for a walk?”

You’re curled in one of the armchairs, flipping through a magazine you found. It’s been hours since your little breakfast together and now the sun is beginning to set. The man is buttoning up his coat, standing in the doorframe and gazing at you with a smile.

“Yeah. I’m starting to detach a little. Maybe some fresh air will help.”

It’s nice, he thinks, having you here. He didn’t expect much when he ventured to rent out a room. He just wanted to hear the murmur of life again. Ever since his mother has passed…when did it happen, again? Better yet, how did it happen? Christ, he can’t remember. The last memory he has of her is not something to cherish. She was angrily shoving him out of the way, visibly annoyed by his cries and pleading. “Please don’t leave me”, he kept croaking in a pathetic tone, dragging his knees like a beggar. Then it’s all black. Black, like the cover they kept over her body at the morgue, to hide the mutilated remains. Black, like the tie he struggled to knot before her funeral. At that time, the sheets of her bed were still scattered, as if she never left. He could almost see her there, reflected onto the mirror’s surface – rather dirty as a matter of fact, he should wipe it soon – sitting melancholically on the edge of the mattress.

To think he’d be hearing footsteps again. A soothing voice. Even if it’s temporary, your presence in the house has been a blessing. Even if you must leave eventually. His lips purse involuntarily.

You hear the door close, followed by the key twisting inside the lock. You’re alone now.

With haste, you get up and sprint upstairs. You pull out a hairpin from your pocket and discreetly insert it in the cylinder. Today you find out if the spare bedroom truly is as vacant as your housemate claims.

When you first viewed the house, he mentioned that only this room will remain locked. It was his mother’s and he’d rather not look at it, he said. Let it gather dust, for all he cares.

Only at night, you’ve been hearing someone else’s voice. It didn’t happen immediately. Weeks after you’d moved in, you woke up thirsty and tiptoed on your way to the kitchen for a glass of water. On your return, you were surprised to see dim light coming from underneath the door of the forbidden bedroom. Visitors of your housemate? You hurried back into your bed, not wanting to intrude. But the following night you jolted up from the same mumbled voice. Strange that he’d invite someone over this late - twice in a row! - without saying a word to you. Even more, they were arguing like this. Curiosity got the better of you, so you snuck out and placed your cupped ear against the wall.

“No, no, no, no. I’m telling you, it’s different. She’s different from the others.” A deep, ragged voice retorted angrily.

Suddenly, there was a loud thud, a fist smashing against something, then glass shattering over exasperated, shouted curses. You ran back to your room, baffled. Who on Earth was there? You could feel your heart throbbing inside your chest.

Morning couldn’t come quick enough. You marched over to your housemate, demanding to know who this stranger was. He stared at you, wide eyed and incredulous. “There’s no one else here, dear. Just you and me.” Nonsense. You knew what you heard. You’d been wide awake! He gently placed the back of his hand against your forehead. “Could it be that you’re sick? Weather has been dreadful lately.” You scanned his face with hitched breath. Was he mocking you? Yet his features betrayed no such intent. The man seemed genuinely worried; face twisted in a caring frown.

Then what? A ghost? An intruder that fancied having a chat in a dead woman’s bedroom?

You fiddle with the pin until you hear the click. Finally. Surely whoever has been frequenting the place must’ve left some clues behind. You carefully open the door and peek inside. A broken mirror and some furniture covered in webs. There’s a lingering rusty smell that tickles your nostrils, and soon enough you find the source. Next to the old bed lays a cloth splattered red. On top of it, a leather folder from which scalpels and other surgical tools fell out haphazardly. Blood? Your mouth curls in disgust. You crouch to the floor to inspect the odd items and notice a jar glistening from underneath the bed. You pull it towards you and give it a rattle. Nothing heavy. You lift the jar into the light for a better look and gasp.

Fingernails.

“Oh, I forgot to put those away.”

It’s the same deep voice you’ve been hearing at night. Your stomach drops and you turn, slowly, towards the entrance. Horror is swiftly replaced by confusion once you realize it’s none other than your housemate.

“Y-you’re back from your walk?” You blurt out.

“Walk?” He inquires. “Ah, that’s what he told you.” He steps towards you and lowers himself to your level with a grin.

“Have you come to say hello?” He points towards the tall, shattered mirror. “This is (Y/N), mother. See, I told you she’s stunning. You didn’t believe me.”

He ruffles your hair with a boldness completely unfamiliar.

Nausea overwhelms you and your ears ring in panic. Whatever is happening right now is beyond your understanding.

“I’d like to go to my room now.”

“I recognize that speech all too well. You want to run away.”

Within seconds, he grabs one of the scalpels and points it towards your throat, poking your skin with its cold tip.

“Now, don’t embarrass me in front of her like that. Do you know how hard it is to convince this bitch of anything? I told her you’re not like them, (Y/N). Don’t prove me wrong.”

“Them?” You whisper, lungs devoid of air.

“Come, let’s put this with the others first.” He pockets the scalpel and lifts you up by the hand, tenderly kissing your fingers in the process. “Then we can talk.”

You follow him into the office, and he unlocks one of the desk drawers. Against your better judgment, you stretch over his shoulder and glance inside. ID cards of various women, jewelry, lipsticks. Teeth. Fingernails.

You want to cry.

He nonchalantly dumps the contents of the jar into the drawer and slams it back shut, then throws himself in the chair and pats his thigh, eyeing you. With a sob, you clumsily climb onto his lap.

“Back to our matters. What were you planning on doing?”

“I just wanted to lay in bed.”

He takes out the scalpel and draws a line across your cheek. It stings.

“Don’t lie, (Y/N). You have nothing to gain from being naughty with me.” He coos, placing a kiss over the fresh wound.

“I wanted to run away.” You confess, petrified.

“Good. Do you now understand what happens if you try to run away?”

You briefly look at the drawer and nod.

“I knew you would. You’re so smart.” He strokes your hair fondly. “Not an easy decision to make, mind you. I love you more than anything in this world. Who’d enjoy killing their one and only?”

The man ponders his next words with a hum.

“Don’t count on getting away while he’s awake, either.” He taps his temple and chuckles. “He has no idea and won’t stop you, but I can easily find you again.”

The eggs sizzle in the pan as you stare at your plate, background sounds melting into shapeless static. After a couple more minutes, the man turns off the stove and places the food on the table with a cheerful whistle.

“Eat up!” He encourages you.

You hold onto your fork with faintly trembling hands.

“This might be the last breakfast I cook for you, after all. You’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?” His last sentence trails off and he smiles, dejected.

“Actually, I was wondering if I could…stay here instead.”

He gazes at you in disbelief.

“Truly? I-…That’d be fantastic.” He laughs awkwardly and scratches the back of his head, a deep red blush spreading over his cheeks. “Do excuse my rudeness. To be honest with you, I’ve grown quite fond of our arrangement. I really do like having you here.”

You return the smile without responding.

“Most exciting news. I’ll get the documents from the office after we eat, so we can draft a new lease.”

“That’d be lovely”, you answer curtly.

“Say, have you by any chance stumbled upon a small key around the house? I wanted to finally unlock the drawer upstairs, but I can’t remember where I could’ve left it.”

The knot in your stomach tightens.

“Not at all.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’m sure it’s nothing important, anyways. Old memorabilia, most likely.”

[slttygeto]

CAN WE ALWAYS BE THIS CLOSE? | GOJO. S

c.w: gn! reader, teacher! reader and teacher! satoru, mutual pining<3, reader and satoru aren’t dating but they act like a couple, satoru is a huge baby and i love him, satoru has a sweet tooth!

note: thank u to my one and only @aurelianamu for the idea<3 i changed it a little but yeah! also i am completely and utterly and platonically obsessed with this man.

satoru has a sweet tooth. you keep a mental note of that and you’re reminded of how important having something sweet is for him when you notice the way he deflates on the brown leather couch of the teacher’s lounge. and while satoru doesn’t try to hide the fact that he’s withering like a flower in winter, the weather seems to be in tune with his emotions—it gets cold, cloudy and then there’s rain and all of that seems to worsen his mood.

you don’t say anything as you watch him stand up and make his way to the kitchenette of the school dorm. you see the tall man not so quietly open one of the cabinets and after rummaging in there for a while, he pulls out a big tub of Nutella and a huge spoon. you feel sick to your stomach at the sight.

“satoru—“ you don’t realize how fast you jump from your seat, reaching towards the big tub of Nutella. “satoru, give me that.” you don’t even try to be stern with him, you know that it does nothing to him, and he suddenly wants to act bratty.

he turns his back to you and you sigh, quickly giving up.

“you will get sick, satoru.” you try to reason with him, a hand resting on his shoulder and trying to take a quick look. “and that tub is huge- come on, maybe I could make you something to put the Nutella on?” your thumb soothes the seam of his uniform, and you make another note in your head to remind him to iron his clothes properly next time.

it seems as though your suggestion hits a good spot because he quickly places the container down and turns around to face you. he pulls his blindfold off completely and you don’t move back when his big blue eyes meet yours.

“gonna make pancakes?”

“mhm, from scratch. sit down.” you order the tall man and it’s comedic how he complies almost immediately. if satoru was a puppy, then his tail was definitely wagging , hitting the floor violently. you stifle a laugh at how obedient he looks, sitting on the stool and watching you handle the ingredients with delicate and professional hands.

the smell of the pancakes quickly reaches the students and they slowly come out of the rooms. you don’t expect megumi to be the first one out of the bunch to be standing behind you, asking you if he can take one but you smile at him and tell him to take a seat next to his mentor.

“can I have one?” megumi mumbles and his eyes light up when you place a plate in front of him and gojo.

“eat, I will make more for when the rest join us.”

and sure enough, the small space of the kitchenette was filled with all the students, nanami and yaga as well. it was a rare sight for everyone to be gathered in the same place at the same time, and although you were sweating and a little bothered by the heat and the tightness of the space, you manage to finish serving the pancakes before turning to a pouting satoru.

“are you okay? you don’t like them?”

“it was supposed to be for me.” he sounds so sincere and broken, you have to fight back the urge to engulf him in a tight hug.

“i can make more for you. at home.”

gojo lights up at the last part, and this time you show him how much you appreciate his excitement to be hanging out with you.

“after work?”

“after missions too, if you want.” you shrug your shoulders as you add the last comment, and you pray that he doesn’t notice the way your cheeks warm up.

“are you inviting me over to your place?” usually his teasing gets you riled up, but he is pleasantly surprised when you nod and look him in the eye.

“i’d love to have you over, satoru.” his heart almost bursts at the way you say his name. so soft, so gentle.

“okay, promise.” he lifts up his hand and puts up his pinky finger. he watches as your face contorts into one of confusion before lightly chuckling at his antics.

you intertwine your pinky with his nonetheless, flashing him a grin.

“pinky promise.”

2023 ; all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

[retiredteabag]

I don't get it... but I'll do it for you

synopsis: Nanami tries to do asmr for you after a long day…

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

I am obsessed with the idea of showing partner!nanami asmr.... You two would be lying in bed, it would probably start with him asking if you always needed white noise to fall asleep.

"I'm not sure honestly" You would begin, "But I like a lot of noises, I even find your breathing to be relaxing."

"My breathing?" He would smile, gazing at your desperate nods.

"I'm serious! I don't know what it is... I could be wide awake but then hear something and-" You make a lazy snoring sound.

Nanami laughs, he thinks it's odd but also endearing! He's watching you as you pull out your phone.

"Haven't you ever heard of asmr? It's super popular now." Your looking up at him as you try to find a video that he might like.

"Hmm? Oh... no? I don't think so..." You raise a brow at him which only brings forth a low chuckle.

"Here, watch." You lift the phone for him to see. He takes your wrist gently in his grasp to bring it farther away, squinting in the process. You hum.

"old man..." is mumbled.

He smirks at your jest, eyeing you for a moment before he tries to experience the video on the screen. His fingers slide up and down over your wrist as he purses his lips.

"I'm sorry, my love, I don't think I understand." He looks away from your phone. Bringing your arm forward to leave a kiss there.

"No, no, I think you're just not used to it." You state.

You'll ask him to lay down, giving him your phone. You'll go through a couple of videos, trying to find something he'll like as you play with his hair.

"Don't you feel anything?" You look down at him.

He sets your phone on his chest as he gazes up at your face, "Only your hands, my dear."

"Hmm... I wish you could... It's like a massage... in your brain." You giggle, sliding back to his side before setting your phone on the bedside desk, bookmarking the discussion as you prepare for bed.

I imagine a few days would pass, likely following your normal routine before you eventually have a rough day at work. Nanami would get a text informing him that once you arrive home you want to lay atop him like a dead fish until the day slides off your shoulders.

He would greet you at the door, helping you slide off your jacket, bag, and shoes. He would kiss your cheeks before pulling you into the shared bedroom, allowing you to lay your weight across his body as he begins to run his hands down your spine.

As he starts to play with your hair, he is reminded of the conversation the two of you shared the week prior. It wouldn't take long before he would start to rub his thumbs along the skin of his other fingers, before starting to gently tap them together. Trying to emulate the sounds you had fervently told him relax you so much.

It probably wouldn't take long for you to recognize what he was doing, as soon as he starts to flutter his fingers by your ears you would rise quickly to a position that allowed you to look at him in the eyes.

"Were you doing asmr just now?" You would smile broadly.

"Oh..." He would drop his hands to your hips, "I was trying to be relaxing." His smile was embarrassed and the cuteness aggression it caused you was instantaneous.

"It was! It so was!" You kiss his cheek, my God this man was adorable, "I'm super relaxed!" You would slip down his form again and grab his hands to bring them to your ears once more, "Go again! I loved it!"

He would bring his hands down in embarrassment, twisting to hold your hands in his. Heat flushing his cheeks, a smiley "hmmm" leaving his chest. It would probably be a few moments before he allowed himself to slide his palms back up and play with your hair once again.