#dynasty closet

[pure-mage]

beheaded…

#anne boleyn #the tudors #six the musical #six #closet cosplay #english monarchy #tudor dynasty #queen anne boleyn

[simayeeet]

#dynasty warriors #this was what i could reasonably fit #bao sanniang i personally think is both a himejoshi and a fujoshi #sun shangxiang #bao sanniang #wang yuanji #wang yi #lianshi #cai wenji #zhang chunhua #zhenji #zhurong #chunhua and zhen are definitely bi and yueying is being lured out of the closet by them

[witchofhimring]

Being the daughter of Daenerys Targaryen

Pairings: Daenerys Targaryen x Reader (platonic)

Whether you are a bio daughter or not is up to you.

-Daenerys had always had the desire to be a mother. From the day you were first placed in her arms Daenerys was instantly in love with you. Although the people of Meereen were her children you were the most cherished. Nuha Rina she called you, her child.

It was a warm night, but surprisingly a light breeze carried itself on the wind. Daenerys stood by the window watching over the city with its flickering flames and unique spices. The baby in her arms stirred and one of Y/n's tiny fists retched up. Daenerys placed a kiss on the babies petal smooth skin. The love she felt for this babe surpassed even that of her dragons. Misa, they had called her. Only now Daenerys felt the sole connection that a mother had with their child. An unbreakable bond between two souls.

-Daenerys is a strict mother. Not in a cruel sense, but she does expect you to follow and obey her. However her love is fierce and she is very protective of you. While she might take you into the town amongst the common people, teach you to lead an army and embody the flame of Valyria, Daenerys is constantly scared something will happen to you. While she may walk amongst her people without a care, you are a different matter. There is always a guard by your side. From the time you are old enough to walk Daenerys has a personal guard to attend you. Any maid or lady in waiting is carefully selected.

Daenerys held your small hand, slowing down so you could keep up. The citizens of Meereen were used to seeing their Queen walk amongst them. But today it was a first for you. Normally mother had you stay in the carriage. Visible, but at a safe distance. Despite the Queen's desire to keep her daughter safe she was also aware that because the Targaryen dynasty was little more than a budding flower in Essos. They needed to cement their hold and that could only be done is you showed yourself to the people. It was your duty as a monarch. And besides, was it not a mothers duty to forge a relationship between themselves and their children? "Your Grace, if I may?" An elderly woman approached, a bundle of colourful flowers in hand. Daenerys was used to people approaching her, but her daughter was another matter. She laid a hand on her daughters shoulder apprehensively. Y/n looked up hopefully, waiting for her mothers permission. She allowed the older woman to approach. Normally warmth spread through her body when granted such a gesture. But all she felt was concern. She let out a sigh of relief when her daughter received the flowers, unharmed.

-Daenerys loves teaching you the stories of old Valyria. You will lay next to her on the silk blankets as she talks well into the night. Expect rides with her dragons. While Daenerys might be apprehensive about others in your vicinity, her dragons are different. There will be lots of red and black dresses in your closet.

Y/n sleepily rested against her mothers side. Today had been rather exciting. What, with getting three new dresses all decked out in Targaryen regalia and a ride on Drogon the little Princess was all tuckered out. "Balerion climbed higher and higher into the sky. Higher and higher Aegon the Conqueror flew. So high up he was that Harrenhal was little more than a spot. Suddenly, he advanced upon the stone keep. And the castle, built upon the blood of slaves was in flames-" Daenerys noticed by your breathing that you were asleep. Carefully she slipped you under the covers. With the candles extinguished she allowed sleep to claim her, Y/n in her arms.

This ones a bit shorter than the rest. But I am very tired and want to get this one out. Expect Sansa next.

#daenerys targeryan #daenerys targaryen x reader #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #got #got x reader #house targaryen #targaryen

[soleminisanction]

I've always really liked DC's in-house choice of referring to their various superhero groupings as "families," but it has gotten a little frustrating recently with people both in canon and in fandom seeming to forget that families aren't just a parental-unit-and-kids formation. They're complicated, and a lot of the DC families are too messy to fit into that neat little nuclear family mode.

Which is to say... here's some scattered thoughts/summaries about how these families are actually structured in canon, because I think it's interesting:

Supers -- The smaller, more traditional Superfamily (Clark, Lois, Kara, Kon, etc.) is a pretty traditional Midwestern nuclear family, with Jimmy Olsen filling the role of close family friend/goofy neighbor sidekick (in the Silver Age, he was Kara's would-be suitor) and Steel feeling more like part of Clark's personal circle of friends. The recent line up, though, with Jon, the twins, Kong and Nat? Starts to feel more like some old dynasty or noble house, complete with fostered foundlings and the Steels acting almost like knights under a noble's banner, possibly reflective of what the House of El would have been on Krypton.

Arrows -- Might currently be the closet to a traditional nuclear family structure. You've got Ollie and Dinah, their younger sisters, Ollie's adopted and biological children, and Ollie's granddaughter through Roy, plus by some counts Roy's co-parent and her sister as "in-laws." Bonnie and Cissie King-Jones are adjacent to but not technically "part" of the family, though I believe it's implied at one point that Ollie might also be Cissie's bio-dad. Pretty straightforward, these guys are actually family and they act like it, for good and ill.

Shazam Family -- Also a literal, actual family. Not originally, the original golden age "Marvel Family" was considerably more complicated and only Billy and Mary were full siblings, but nowadays the whole point of the modern Shazam family is that they're foster siblings united by familial love and that's fantastic. Meanwhile your average Black Adam story is 75% angsty family drama, 25% Egyptian mythology references.

Flashes -- Technically closer to three nuclear families (the Allens, the Wests and the Garricks; four if you include the Quicks), two of whom are united by marriage and all of whom are bound by the Speedforce, which, given its semi-spiritual connections to things like Speedster afterlives, can act almost like a religious force that connects them to the additional members like Avery, Circuit Breaker and Max as Bart's foster-dad. They're a big, sprawling tree with more cousins than siblings, the kind of family that functionally has a reunion every Christmas and Thanksgiving.

Lanterns -- Now these guys are the exception that proves my point about the whole 'family' thing not being straightforward. The lanterns aren't a family, they're a corps. Soldiers. Space cops. Comrades-in-arms. They respect each other, have each other's backs, might even like or care about each other, but those last two are optional, and they don't have the same kind of assumed obligations towards each other that a family would have. They're friends and co-workers, not family, but that doesn't mean their relationships are less significant, they're just different.

Wonders -- Roughly half of them are either one of Hippolyta's daughters (Diana, Donna, Nubia pre-Crisis) or related to them through the gods (Cassie), and the other half (Artemis, Yara, modern-age Nubia) use sister as a term of endearment more in a utopian lesbian commune kind of way. I think they brought Steve Trevor back recently? He's basically the Ken in this equation and perfectly fine with that role. None of which should be surprising if you've seen Professor Marston and the Wonder Women.

Bats -- This is the one that people get really wrong when they try to force it into a traditional family structure. Don't let WFA fool you, the Bats are and have always been way more a snarled mess of tangled interpersonal relationships than they've ever been a cohesive family. Whether Dick is Bruce's son or his brother depends on what era you're talking about, and the former reading is much more recent than you think -- as in "started cropping up in the early 2000s" recent. Barbara is both Cassandra's sister and her mother. Duke and Steph both have living parents and neither of them want or would ever dream of treating Bruce like their dad; Tim was the same way until his dad died. None of the Robins ever lived in the mansion together, nor did Cass. Babs considered Jean-Paul Valley her brother and Huntress is so close to Tim she once hallucinated him calling her Big Sister. They're a beautiful mess of people finding places where their broken edges fit together into something that works for them and trying to reduce it down to a cozy nuclear family is just so goddamn reductive and lazy.

Blue Beetles -- Are only tangentially related to each other. Seriously, they never even get direct mentoring, each one just takes over when the previous one dies and works on completely different rules from the other two. They're complete strangers bound by a legacy and that's honestly pretty fun.

Zataras -- There's only three of them and they're literally a father, daughter and cousin.

Martians -- Not really a family because there's only the two of them, but an interesting case where the two survivors of what was functionally a war of mutually assured destruction came together in an attempt to find some peace in the aftermath of what they'd lost.

Titans -- The JLA and JSA aren't really in the "family" category, but the Titans lean into it hard, mostly because they're a textbook found family. They don't mirror a nuclear family structure, they're simply a group of people who came together to form a mutual support network. They're the idealized college friends you grew into your own with, some of them childhood companions and others you only met once you leave home for the first time, but all of them friends that you manage to maintain contact with for life, with everyone coming back together even as you scatter and do your own things.

Young Justice -- Meanwhile, this team is the chaotic group of misfits you hung out with when you were a teenager, especially when you were just starting to be allowed to act without adult supervision. You drive each other crazy, none of you know you're all queer as fuck, and you'd fight a bear for any of them even if they asked you not to. They'd probably be insulted if you tried to call them a family. They come out here to get away from their families, thank you very much.

#dc comics #meta #batfamily #super family #arrow family #flash family #wonder women #shazam family #batman #superman #wonder woman #green lantern #teen titans #young justice #kinda rambling #just kinda throwing some ideas together #families of choice #non-traditional families

[the-dendrophile-bookdragon]

Play with me

Pairing: Modern!Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warning: Sugar Daddy AU, dark dom Daemon, slight obsessive behaviour, slight dacryphilia, ass slapping, none proper use of a belt, masturbating, orgasm denial, smut, a sprinkle of slight soft dom Daemon

Summary: Daemon needs his favourite toy to let off some steam.

A/N: This piece is a contripution to @targaryen-dynasty sleepover challenge. Reblogs and comments are appreaciated. Have fun! Please note, English is not my first language.

Walking into her apartment she felt like falling into bed and waking up when her aching body had healed itself. She threw her bag on a chair at her dinner table and sat down on her couch. She threw her head against the back of the couch.

Her eyes were only closed for a moment as her phone rang. A deep sigh escaped her lips before she opened her eyes to look at her phone.

Her heartbeat was faster as she read his message. She thought long and hard about what she would answer him. Coming up with only a simple one.

With bated breath, she watched as the three dots appeared on her screen. She could feel her anxiety slowly growing. She knew she had broken a rule. The sound of a new text brought her out of her head.

She texted him back immediately. Her hands slightly shaking.

What she didn’t expect was a phone call. It must have been urgent if he was too impatient to answer her via text message. She picked up, her voice meek as she greeted him. “Why did you not come into office today?” He barked out. She shrunk slightly.

He seemed on edge. His voice filled with rage and something far darker. “I have written it in the calendar. I was at a meeting, representing the company. Representing you.” She whispered.

She could hear a drawn-out sigh. “Be naked when I come home.” He growled before he hung up. Her body shivered. She let her phone fall onto the cushion of the couch. Her shaky legs moved to her bedroom.

She got undressed quickly. Her clothes disappeared into the hamper or her closet. She knew he didn’t like it when she was messy.

Patiently she waited for him on her bed. Her knees began to hurt as she leaned on them. But she knew he liked it when she was in slight discomfort. Her body slightly shivered as the cold air nipped at her skin. She wrapped herself in her duvet until she heard the click of her front door. She unwrapped herself as fast as she could and put the duvet into order.

She could hear the frustration from Daemon’s actions and how he threw his briefcase to the floor. Or how he threw his shoes into the foyer. His walk to the bedroom sounded like a monster was approaching it. Fear softly crept up on her. The sound of his belt opening made her gasp softly. He was beyond frustrated with her.

“Bunny, I hope you are naked as I ask you to.” He called out to her. His voice was slightly strained. He walked inside with his leather belt in hand and a dark look on his face as he saw her kneeling naked on her bed.

He walked up to her and grabbed at her chin, holding her chin up with his index finger and thumb. “Here I am, giving you a stable job, a stable income. A beautiful home. And all I ever ask of you is to tell me where you are.” He made a clicking noise with his tongue. “Maybe I should install a tracking app on your phone. Or give you a necklace with a tracker in it.”

His hand moved from her chin to her throat. He held her, not squeezing it. “How will you repay me, kitten?” He asks with a dark smirk. She looked at him with slight fear in her eyes. “My loyalty.” She whispered.

Daemon chuckled darkly. “Oh, the same loyalty you ignored today. You want to repay me with that?” He bared his teeth at her as he spat his words in her face, applying slight pressure on her throat. A soft gasp managed to escape her throat.

“No,” she whispered gently. Her hands slowly moved to his dress pants. As she opened the button, he stopped her. “No!” He barked out. Her hands immediately went to her side. She looked up at him with wide eyes, waiting for his command.

“When I let go of your throat, you will lay down on the bed and start playing with yourself.” He squeezed her throat a little tighter. “Understood?” She nodded, which didn’t please Daemon in the slightest. “Use your big girl words, sweetheart.” “Yes, daddy.” She rasped.

Daemon leaned down, kissing her harshly. “Good girl.” He whispered into her ear. “Now, I want you to touch yourself.” He let go of her throat and sat down at the armchair in the corner of her room.

She looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights. He cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow at her. She scrambled on her bed trying to work against his impatient nature. Positioning herself so he would have a good view of her.

His fingers impatiently tapped at the armrest of the chair. He watched her like a hawk. The shadows of the room cast a mysterious shadow around him.

Her hands began to snake between her thighs. She could feel her arousal had already spread onto her thighs. Her fingers softly caught on her sticky thighs. Daemon smirked as he saw the glistening of her juices spread across her thigs and tripping down her womanhood.

Her fingers went lower. She gasped loudly as her index finger made contact with her aching pearl. Her back arched slightly. “Permission to touch me, sir?” Daemon only grunted. With small circles, she began to tease herself.

Daemon watched with glee as her thighs began to shake softly. “Faster.” He grunted out. She obeyed immediately. Her whimpers become louder. It was music to his ears.

His eyes roamed over every inch of her glorious body. Mine. He growled under his breath as he watched her pleasure herself. “Add another finger and put pressure on your clit, baby.” She obeyed. Her moans get louder. “What a good girl you can be for daddy, hm?” She nodded. Her mind was nearly gone from the pleasure she was feeling.

“Stop!” He growled suddenly. She whined but obeyed. He observed her. Seeing how her chest was rising and falling rapidly. How her breathing was rigid. He saw her thighs tremble slightly. How her toes were curled into the duvet. “Look at you.” He taunted. “Such a needy kitten. Do you want fingers inside you?” He knew her body like the back of his hand. She was close to the edge. She whined but knew she wasn’t getting far with it. “Yes, sir.” She croaked. “Get on with it, kitten!” He demanded.

Her fingers slipped down her womanhood. Her body shook faintly as her fingers ran down her sensitive pussy. Her back arched as one of her fingers slipped inside of her. “Slowly.” Daemon chided her. She nodded, moving her finger slowly in and out of her. Her eyes closed at the torture feeling, imagining his fingers pumping in and out of her.

“Add another one, kitten.” He demanded. She did as he said, much to his enjoyment. His grin widened. His eyes never left her fingers pumping in and out of her.

He could feel his cock straining against his slacks painfully. Slowly he opened them. Slipping his fingers inside his briefs and softly palming his aching member. “Such a good kitten for daddy.” He breathed out.

A soft whine escaped her lips. A noise Daemon had mistaken as one of discomfort. He leaned slightly forward, his hand slipping from his trousers as he brazed both on the armrest, ready to stand up if she needed him. “What is it, darling?” His concerned voice rang through the room. She could see the worry dancing in his eyes. “What hurts?”

She whined again as she pumped her fingers in and out of her core. “They are not enough.” She whispered hoarsely. Daemon leaned back and relaxed into the back of the chair. His concern disappeared in an instant. “Oh, and here I thought you were in actual discomfort.” He clicked his tongue in disappointment. “That is what you get for leaving me alone in the office.” He taunted her. “You have to be grateful for what you get. As did I. Had to use my fucking hands like a teenager again.”

She moaned pitifully, trying to get him to yield. “Bunny, you know I am not that gullible.” He taunted her. “I am sorry, daddy.”

Daemon went back to palming his cock in his trousers. “I thought you would check your calendar.” She whispered. Daemon chuckled humourlessly. “Why do you think I would do that if I got you to do it? It is your job I gave you, bunny.” A shuddering breath escaped her lips. “It will not happen again, Daddy.” She whispered.

Daemon grinned. “I hope you remember your words. Next time you can crawl back to that shitty apartment you had in Flea Bottom.” She whimpered softly. “Are you close, bunny?” He grinned wider. She nodded, “Yes, sir.” She mumbled.

Daemon groaned. “Get your hands away from you and hold them up.” She obeyed. He stalked over to her. Like a predator walking closer to his prey. “What a good girl I have here.” He huskily whispered as he took the hand where her fingers were inside of her and licked at her fingers.

She watched him with bated breath as he licked her fingers clean. His dark eyes looked down at her. His grin showed around her digits. With a pop, he let go of them. “Have you seen my present for you?” She nodded softly. Her body shifted to her nightstand. Her hands closed around the cold black leather of the chocker. She held it up for him to show it to him. “Put it on, kitten.” He urged her.

She followed his plea, putting on the chocker as tight as she felt comfortable. Daemon’s smirk widened as he watched her put it on. “So beautiful. It looks good with your black Louis Viton dress I got you last week, don’t you think sweetheart?” She nodded softly. “It would.” She agreed meekly.

“Turn on your stomach. Let me see those soft cheeks.” Daemon growled. She obeyed, turning on her stomach.

She could hear him snarl before the leather of his belt made contact with her bare ass cheek. She cried out in pain and pleasure. “Count!” She did, loudly. When she whimpered out eight he stopped. Softly caressing the abused flesh. “Eight fucking hours without you in the office. I thought I would shoot myself just to feel something else than boredom.” She whimpered as he seethed into her ear. “I am sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.” She whispered. Tears running down her cheeks.

Daemon chuckled softly. “It better won’t.” His threat went straight to her core, clenching around nothing. He tsked at her body's reaction. “Be patient, kitten.” He slapped the right cheek of her ass again, this time with his large hand. She moaned softly. The pain mixed with pleasure.

He quickly removed his clothes. Pumping himself he leaned close to her ear. “I hope you had your shot this month. Because a pill won’t protect you this time.” He whispered into her ear before sheathing himself inside of her in one go. She cried out at the stretch. His pace was brutal from the beginning. He didn’t even give her time to adjust to him.

She held on to the duvet beneath her as he rutted into her. “I will fill you up so many times, you will feel me for days inside of you.” He grunted out. His hands grabbed at her hips harshly. She knew there would be bruises the next day.

“Maybe I buy a plug for you. So it would stay inside of you longer.” He grinned. His pace growing faster. She moaned out his name. The pictures in her head began to dance in front of her closed eyes.

“Next time you are at a conference I am with you. Physically,” He thrusted deeper into her. Daemon was nearing his peak at a fast pace. All his built-up anger turns into uncontrollable lust and arousal. With two hard pumps, he stilled inside of her. She cried out as she felt the twitching of his cock and the hot spurts of his cum painting her sensitive walls. “Or in another form.” He moaned out.

He stayed inside of her for a few more minutes. Feeling his spend mixed with her juices run down his thighs. “What a mess we made.” He chuckled. “You gonna clean me up, bunny?” She nodded eagerly. The cocky smirk returned to his face. “Later. Get your ass up. I need to fulfil my promise to you.”

Main Masterlist

Can't get enough? Tell me about it...

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targeryan #daemon targaryen #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon prince #prince daemon targaryen #aemondtarqaryenssleepover

[sweetmoonstorm]

Could I request headcannons for a fem reader stealing and wearing some of her bf's clothes with Macaque and Sun Wukong (separately).

Sure!

Hcs for a fem! reader who borrows (cough steals) bf's clothes!

Mac n Wu, separately! <:D

Please do note that I do any gender oneshots, if no gender is specified reader is automatically gender neutral!

Wukong

So one day, around when the relationship starts, and you start stealing his clothes, he's like, "huh?? where tf did my clothes go?? don't tell me some demon was desperate enough trying to get me all riled up by stealing my clothes-"

Then you just walk into the room, wearing *his* cape, his whatever it is that goes around his thigh, his *SHIRT*-

He didn't know you were a lil thief-

But really, Wukong doesn't mind you wearing his clothes, it just means new fits for you!

Doesn't mean he might not be embarrassed by the fact that you rummaged through his closet and are wearing things he has worn dozens of times-(and that he may tease/joke around bout it with you)

Now some may think Wukong doesn't really have a lot of clothes, but rest assured, minute you step into his treasury(?) there *will* be some assortment of clothes from different eras/dynasties.

He'd enjoy watching you try out some of his clothes.

If you're a good actress(unlike him-), maybe put on a lil show for him! No matter what kinda show, he'd stay and listen.

~Scenario~

Wukong : Sorry I'm late bud, I was doing stuff.

You, wearing one of Wukongs outfits : Don't worry, I am stuff ~

MK : Wait what-

Macaque

At one point, this guy will be just- looking for his signature red scarf, scouring the dojo for it.

Like, he'd had it around his neck not too long ago-

Did someone pull it off him with him somehow not noticing???

..The answer is yes-

After some time, he finds you wrapped up in his scarf all snug and cozy.

I imagine Macaque would have a reaction that's more of a "You like me so much you'll wear my clothes??? Uhm, I-" than anything else.

He absolutely will make a teasing/snarky remark on it though.

Bonus, as an actor, Macaque def has a couple of outfits lying around for his shows.

What that means is he would most definitely indirectly ask you to try wearing them, so he can see how his sweet plum looks in his favorite outfits ':D

~Scenario~

Mac : OK WHOEVER TOOK MY CLOTHES, IM GOING TO-

You, wearing his scarf : ...it was me.

Mac : Drag you to my theater so you can take all the clothes you want.

You : Excuse me?

---

I sorta lost track of the stealing clothes part, but I hope this is alright! ^^

Have a nice day/night!

#lego monkie kid #lego monkie king #lego monkie kid sun wukong #lmk macaque #lmk swk #x reader #x you #x yn #female reader

[hexonthepeach]

a gentle tongue breaketh the bone | 22: sated

pairing: fem hybrid fox omega!reader/hybrid Alpha!nct 127

tags: reverse harem, non-traditional omegaverse hybrid! cyberpunk au, pack dynamics, polyamory, slowburn/slowbuild, angst & hurt/comfort, heavy content warnings inc. torture, graphic violence, suicidal ideation, explicit sexual content

summary: the year is 2127. decades of eugenics and warfare have led to the rise of designated populations: the ruler Alphas and their rare, prized omegas sequestered from the Beta population. in the aftermath of the War of the Two Tigers, New Goryeo ushers in an Imperial dynasty determined not by birthright but by the alliance of the Syndicate’s clancorps to choose the best pack of your generation. you are destined to take your place within the Imperial harem as a queen, and–perhaps–Imperatrix herself

but you have a secret, written into your skin and bones–one that could easily kill you, depending on who finds it out

ten years ago you chose your Alpha and their pack in a fateful meeting

now, you must make them choose you

[masterlist & glossary] [read on AO3] [21: confrontation]

wc: 8.4k

warnings: cousin incest, explicit m/f smut (rut sex, breast worship, omega locking) between omega/alpha-passing!omega (trans 2nd gender, use of Alpha as affirmation), switching, a little breeding kink, pet name: baby

recommended listening: i'd pick something sweet from shalala like ruby but let's be real all i've been listening to is wayv's rodeo

You'd woken to a new day well after dawn, clouded by winter snow, watching the swirls of white this far up recede into an unknowable horizon. It's dark outside, but you begin your work to make this space your own bright refuge, your own hospitality in the smallest of measures taught to you by your former servants.

Candles lit, ambient music played once you'd found an appropriate channel. You'd attended to yourself the same, donning another of the traditional robes from Taeyong's closet, hem pinned to keep it from dragging, tied back carefully.

And then, finally, you get to work on your meal. It might be for others, but it’s for your benefit most of all, a gift and a blessing. 

Doyoung had delivered on his promise to have everything you needed brought up before you woke. He'd quietly come in to sleep beside you and Taeyong last night after you’d fallen asleep talking, but you never expected him to stay. Today is not much different. 

Back when you'd been training you'd been given carte blanche access to one of the many Imperial kitchens servicing your household, after rigorous instruction in much smaller spaces. 

What would you do if your mate demanded you bring him his mother's hangover soup after a late night business meeting? What would you make to show another pack's Alpha you respected his tastes in Renaissance Shanghai cuisine?

Traditional Goryeo cooking still eluded you with the new overwhelmingness of garlic on your fingers or onion in your eyes but you had a mastery of technique. It was better to make this, you think, than any of the European dishes you'd grown sick of.

You attack your project within the hours given you, pulling out every ingredient and lining them up like soldiers on the spotless countertops, next to crates of freshly harvested vegetables and a beautiful array of crocks, an entire pallet of eggs awaiting your destruction of them.

You imagine chickens clucking and pecking away deep in the belly of NeoTech HQ and have a laugh at that. You hope they are warm and safe and happy, their little bird bellies full.

Your first guest is, of course, your fellow residents. Doyoung enters, smelling vaguely of snow, as if he's been outside. Trailing him, shyly, is your guest of honor.

"No waiting," you say, pushing plates in front of Taeyong the moment he's near the low island. "You have to tell me if this is edible."

The other fox hesitates, removing his suit jacket, sniffing the air. He looks flushed but relatively healthier, eyes bright as he sniffs at the banchan.

"Do you need help?" his eyes go even more round at the sight of the kitchen. You've managed to keep everything orderly but there is more than enough going on, all 6 ranges and both ovens on for warming.

"I need you to eat," you remark, turning back to your work. "Is there a dish you're craving?"

You empty a bowl of eggs into a pan of sauteed tomato, ears backwards for a response from him as you watch the whites congeal. 

"Anything you make," he says, softly.

"Try the jeon," you say. "I understand we both like sweet potatoes?" 

You peer over your shoulder to find him eating the last fried slice, crumbs and oil glistening on his mouth. 

"It tastes like my sister's." Taeyong sniffs, tears pouring from his eyes. 

"Thank you," Doyoung concedes, tying his apron. "He's never had that reaction when I've made it."

Together you fall into a steady routine, Doyoung darting out of the way to allow you to work, managing dishwashing when you begin handing him your used utensils and pans. You don't realize you have a second set of hands at your disposal until the steam from an opened cookpot of radish stew burns you, and your hands are enveloped in long fingers.

"Are you hurt?" 

You look up to see Jungwoo's watery gaze. 

"No," you say, fighting the urge to pull back. "Can you finish the–"

"Allow me." Taeil fights his way between the other two, already fixated on the next round of jeon in the pan. "Run cold water over it. No ice. Taeyong has an aloe plant somewhere, get a cutting."

It's directed at Jungwoo, who flees just as quickly as the thought is put into his mind.

"Thank you," you murmur, moving to the sink. 

"You've done a lot more in this kitchen than Taeyong ever aspired to. Is that fresh crab?" Taeil says.

You preen a bit, remembering how much work it had taken to pick it free of the shell after boiling it.

"I wanted to use it for stew but I ran out of burners. Should we make it now? The chrysanthemum greens are over there." 

Taeil laughs a little, adding green onion to the pot that burned you.

"There's more than enough with what's on the table." He looks up at your first glimmer of disappointment, cued to your response in a way that has you back under the tap, fingers shaking.

"Do you mind if I add it to the fried rice? I think we'll have more than enough, then," he says. Quietly, for you–"Thank you. Sorry for oversleeping."

You shake your head, smiling. 

"You're just in time. I couldn't do this without you," you say, appreciating the way he takes over for you now.

Your eyes drift over the occupants. The long unloved dinner table you'd cleaned of dust last night is the center of chaos with Doyoung managing the hotplates and the central pot, swatting Taeyong's hand as he steals radish and kimchi to shove into his mouth. You sight Haechan arranging plates, immediately turning away before his gaze can lift past the rice he's diligently doling out.

"Is he coming?" You ask, tail smashed against the cupboards.

"He'll be here," Taeil answers. "They just needed time to arrange everything." 

"Is it too early to drink?" you ask, earning a dark look. 

"After tonight, I owe you one." he says.

Now that you're unoccupied you hear the door open, are ready for a new intruder. You're not prepared for the silence that takes over–the shock on the other's face as they rush to help the person who came in.

"Found him stuck on the stairwell," Jungwoo says. "___, I think you should come here."

You turn off the water, breathing deeply, rounding the corner to the living space to set eyes on your first real challenge. 

Wrapped around Jungwoo is a person you are wholly unprepared to witness, clad in much more comfortable athletics clothing under his sling, his face drawn with effort. 

"Mark," you breathe. 

Tears make your vision swim as you move to support him–embracing him more, arms encircling his solid chest. After a few moments, his free arm twines around you to pat your back.

"Might be the drugs but I'm kind of . . . Well, no. I'm really glad you're alive," he says, voice husky.

"Because of you," you say, so only he can hear, nose in his ribcage and ear against his chest, lulled back into peace by his steady heartbeat. "I didn't know you'd be able to make it. I hope I made something you like: meat, eggs–"

"Who doesn't like that?" He extricates himself, slowly, more agile than you expected after what he'd been through. 

There's something else in his scent–a new bitter melon green that has you holding on even as he hobbles away.

"Let me get you some water," you say, fighting back tears. You're denied entrance to the kitchen by someone already carrying two full pitchers. It's nice to see your needs answered so quickly but you look up into bottomless eyes and drown, smile fading.

"Here."

You try to take Jaehyun's offering, realizing too late he's just telling you that he's taking care of this for you.

"Are you . . .?" 

He leans down, lips ghosting your forehead. "Thank you."

Then he's past, bringing Mark his water. You watch them for friction, for a flinch, only to find the younger man nod his head in thanks, your new mate moving counterclockwise around the table to fill each glass.

You feel utterly unnecessary in this moment, picking up the abandoned piece of aloe on the island to rub against your scalded red skin.

"Relax," Taeil says, handing you a plate. "He's coming."

"I feel like I need to do a headcount," you joke. "I need some air."

"Do me a favor–take a walk and try some pranayama," Taeil says. “Breathe through your nose for four seconds, hold the breath for 7 seconds, exhale through your mouth for 8 more. And take your time."

You slip out without protest, heading down to the next level with anxiety clinging to each hair raised on your body. Your rounds of breaths are only a few when you're startled by Yuta at the end of the hallway.

"Princess."

"I burnt myself," you say, lifting up your palm. "Taeil told me to get something for it."

Yuta looks at your hand, then up to you, stony face unbreakable as a smile tugs on his lips.

"Looks like you already found it." He pulls something out from behind his back, the bag heavy and redolent with blood. "I heard we needed beef?"

"Yes. Thank you." You feel nauseated by the sight of so much marbled flesh. 

"Have you seen Johnny?" You ask, hyper aware of your last guest.

"I'm here."

You don't turn. At least, not quickly. When you finally do your eyes remain on his chest, the peek of gold skin above a thin shirt, leather jacket padding his shoulders. 

"Can we talk?" You ask for him, feeling the question between you.

Yuta leaves without another word, feet pounding on the stairs, clearly wanting no part of this.

"Here?" he asks, quietly. 

"Where else." You say, exhausted already. "I have nothing to say others can't hear."

"Fine," he says. "Here."

Something is thrust under your nose, the scent overwhelming enough you immediately begin to sneeze, eyes watering beyond tears. 

"Oh," you say, watching him pull back the offering and reaching out to snatch it before he can take it back. You're in a tug-of-war for a moment, your hands brushing against the wide splay of his knuckles around a bouquet of golden flowers, wrapped in paper.

Dedication, you think, though you doubt he brought them to you with any intended meaning. 

"Are these from–?"

He sneezes, too, turning away. You have a momentary impulse to place your hand between his shoulder blades, snuffing it out in favor of inspecting the blooms.

"I had them delivered from a place I know in Six. Hothouses, obviously."

"Sunflowers in winter," you say, quietly, sniffing the blooms, sneezing again. Their scent is waxy and slightly artificial but you appreciate the color–the way red and orange hues dance down the petals from purplish-red centers. "They’re beautiful."

"Here," he says, pulling a bag from his jacket. "You can plant them if you want. Or eat them, I don't care. They said they won't grow until they know the time is right, but they gave me the instructions if you want to simulate the light and heat cycles–"

"Johnny." You stop his rambling, heart aching in your chest. "Why did you come back that night?"

"For you," he says. 

"For Taeyong," you correct. 

He sighs, boots creaking as he moves away.

"If nothing had happened, if Taeyong could have been cured, would you still be here?" You ask even if the answer is clear in his irritation. 

"I wanted . . ." He ends his statement before he even begins. "No. I would have left as soon as I knew you were back where you belonged."

"Where I belonged?" You finally look up, meeting his steady gaze. "Where was that exactly?"

"Doyoung is–was–working on a solution to transfer you abroad," he says, leveling you with how sure he is in his answer. “One of the EEC countries accepting designated refugees.”

"Even if I wanted to go North to find my–"

"Don't give me that line about going back into that hell. You were a target there when you were a kid, even more now. That will never be your home."

He realizes his mistake, wiping at his face and his cold-reddened nose and cheeks. 

"You would have shipped me off to another country, rather than help me?" You bite your lip to keep it from trembling. "I see."

"No, you don't," he argues. "Everything I've ever done, always, since the first time I dragged you out of that godforsaken pit, was to make sure you were safe. It's not my fault you chose to run headfirst into danger at every opportunity."

"No," you counter, paper crinkling as you hold on to your first offering, fighting the urge to toss it in his face. "Don't twist history to make it seem as if you're prioritizing my needs. You had a decade. Ten years to do something that mattered. Spying on me in my own home doesn't count."

"Right," he says. "Did Jungwoo show you that before or after you fucked him in my bed?" 

You slap him. He's too tall to get a good hit but your nails are long and sharp, red scores rising on his jaw. Immediately you've plummeted into regret, feeling the hurt you've caused magnified in the echo in your own, burning face. But you hold fast against it.

"You don't get to make accusations like that without asking me first, directly. Do you understand?" 

You watch him battle through the rage, nostrils flaring. It so easily disappears when you're back to hyperventilating, remembering the sting when you'd cut through the back of your own ankle on the floor of his room, unable to see how deep. No you'd just felt it–felt it again when Taeil had been forced to cut you open to restitch the nerves and tendons back together so they could finally heal.

"___," he says, but you're not there anymore. You're underwater. Counting seconds between breaths. 

"I'm sorry," he says, forgetting your unspoken directive not to touch you, shaking you.

When you don't respond he crushes you against his chest, flowers mangled, face in your hair. 

"Please. No. I'm sorry. I fucked this up–I have so much I want to say and I just didn't–"

"Let her go."

You expect someone who can feel you to intervene, one of the Canids–maybe even Doyoung. But the person who pulls you away one-handed, the other leveling his gun, is your most unlikely of saviors.

"You have a choice to make right now, Suh, so I'll keep talking to you like I don't know you're thinking about ripping my arm off." Yuta's voice is level, posture expectant. 

"You're going to take a minute and think about what you owe us as Prime. I'm going to take her back upstairs and let her recover. And then you are going back into that room together, as one. Got it?"

Johnny may have nodded–you didn't see it before he turns and leaves–but immediately you feel the empty hallway grow wider, the space less constrictive. 

"Thank you," you say, turning away from him as if an automaton. "You didn't have to." 

"Technically speaking, I'm the one who fucked you on his bed," he says. "I'm just not apologizing for it."

You look back at his sly face, too astounded by his candor to feel anything other than morbid amusement.

"Yet," he adds. "Didn't want to ruin our first and last meal together."

"In the spirit of community, and to honor our coming together as a tribunal tonight, I would like to ask that we all hold hands and say a prayer."

Doyoung's voice breaks through the tense silence and the ringing of metal utensils on dishes. It takes a long time for the group to respond, eyes turning heavenward for other reasons.

"From youngest to oldest, please," Doyoung adds, looking directly at you at the head of the table.

You fold your hands in your lap, bowing your head slightly. 

"Oṁ amṛta tejovati svāhā," you say. 

You realize everyone is looking to you to continue, or for an explanation, but you nod your head instead towards the slack-jawed face of the second youngest, seated as far away as possible.

"Well, that's useful," Haechan says, the table shaking when Mark kicks it's leg instead of the one he'd been aiming for under the table. "Dear Heavenly father. Glad eomma and appa decided to stop fighting and fucking eachother long enough we could enjoy this home-cooked meal."

He looks up, smiling wider at the horror on everyone's faces. "Amen."

"Jesus Christ." Mark repeats, blinking slowly at his plate. "Thank you for this meal we're about to receive. Thank you for keeping me alive a little longer, I guess. Sorry for not having the words to say what I mean. Drugs are great, doctor."

He lifts his water like it's a toast in Taeil's direction as Doyoung sighs heavily beside you.

Jungwoo stands up, earning another, more quiet sigh. 

"I would like to thank ____ for the meal." He's toasting you, too, but with what looks like a half-drunk glass of tea. He bows his head, mocking but somehow deferential. "God doesn't deserve the praise for whatever you added to the jjigae to make Haechan cry when he ate most of it earlier."

"It was too spicy–"

Jaehyun pulls him down by the shoulder. You meet his direct stare, unsure of what he's thinking. There's an icy wall between you now that you're bonded, but there's nothing malicious or frightened in his regard. 

"Thanks," he says, quietly dipping his head in your direction. "For bringing us back together."

"It's been too long," Doyoung murmurs in agreement, hands folding in front of him. "Heavenly creator–"

He has to pause at Haechan's muffled laughter, sitting up to his full height. 

"--we have not had an opportunity to be together in a long time. And though it comes with its trials we know that these moments of peace are more precious than we have any right to expect or ask for."

He grips your hand at the left side, making you only more aware of Taeyong's weak and sweaty hold in your right. 

"Amen," Doyoung says, quietly staring daggers across the table.

"Amen." Yuta echoes. After a moment he looks up around him, confused. "That's it, right?"

"You're supposed to say something meaningful before it," Taeyong intervenes before Doyoung can explain.

"Oh," he nods, thoughtfully. "Amen."

"Alright well," Taeyong says, finger drifting on his agent. "I'm going to follow ____'s example and share another sutra."

Awkward silence follows his admission, but you squeeze his hand once it's back in yours. He clears his throat.

"’It is like a lighted torch whose flame can be distributed to ever so many other torches which people may bring along; and there– therewith they will cook food and dispel darkness, while the original torch itself remains burning ever the same.’"

The only sound is the bubbling of the stew, Jungwoo offering a solemn nod of understanding.

"Was that AI-generated–" Haechan is cut short by Johnny standing and slamming his palms on the table.

"Are you finished?" 

Haechan mimes zipping his lips, but remains silent.

"Good," he says. "Sorry, Doyoung. I have something to say and if anyone interrupts me they can eat from the floor like the animal they are."

No one even breathes in his direction. 

"____ is the newest person at our table, but she's also the reason some of us were able to cross paths in the first place."

He looks up, hands flexing on the edge of the table. "We wouldn't be a pack, and we certainly wouldn't be sitting here in the same capacity. For better or worse, we owe her that." 

He sits down again, table vibrating with the quake. 

"Thank you for that . . . Inspiring gesture," Doyoung murmurs. 

"I guess that makes me the last to speak," Taeil says, crossing his arms and leaning back. "I also have known ____ for as long as Johnny. Incidentally, I think by practice amidst designated, we're now also common law married."

Johnny clears his throat, but he defers to the Doctor. You remain in horrified shock, baring your teeth in what you hope resembles a smile. 

Taeil raises his glass between you both, and you get the impression from the viscosity of the liquid in it that it's not water. 

"May we attend to each other's needs in a way that no longer leads to bodily injury, crisis, or divorce," he says, clearing the shot in one throw. "Let's eat."

The words are echoed–mumbled in Mark's case–the nine descending on the food like they've been starved for weeks. Meanwhile you sit staring at the man across from you, a new hunger manifesting where your appetite should be as you watch him in his element.

As upset as you know Johnny is, he's also content with the atmosphere of normalcy–relaxing into the conversation around the table, occasionally glancing up at you to hold you fixed in his steady gaze. It’s impossible to not feel sadness at being included in this scene, as more of a misfit and outlier than ever.  

You don't know what to say, how to relax into it.

"Eat something for me," Doyoung says–not an order–as Jungwoo fishes out crab meat from his own bowl of fried rice to place upon your own and someone else passes down grilled meat.

You pick away at the meal, feeling a dreary sense of finality and the distant sense that, even with you all here, you don't belong. Every bite is flavorless. Taeyong looks just as miserable beside you, black-tipped ears in his pinkish hair pinned back. 

"Suppressants?" you ask, leaning in so only he can hear, hyper-aware of the others' eyes on you.

"That. And painkillers. Stimulants, hormonal therapy," he says, swallowing saliva. "I ate a lot already, though–thank you–just trying to let it settle." 

You move your chair closer to him, enveloping him with an arm around his quivering shoulders, rubbing his bicep through the layers of fine, loose clothing he'd dressed in for what should have been a more formal affair. He’s not in the state to be doing much, you know.

"Let's try to stomach a little more, and then we can go watch the snow together, maybe?" 

He nods, sleepily. Your hand drifts to his head to scratch his scalp at the base of his fur, the sound he makes in his chest loud with the silence that immediately follows. 

"Really? Some of us are still eating here," Haechan says across the table, chewing. 

"Please, continue." There's a little bit of a snarl in your response, but you don't meet his glare for long, standing up and bowing.

"You'll excuse us," you say, giving Doyoung a measured look before attempting to lift your pack's leader from the table. 

He helps you, the both of you navigating Taeyong awkwardly back to their quarters. Johnny moves to stand and you stop him with a flick of your head. 

Doyoung tries to guide you to the bedroom but you rally your strength to veer a different direction with Taeyong's weight pressed into your side.

"I'll take care of him," you say, slinging his arm over you as you duck into the nest. "We just need sleep. We’re not going to be able to do this if he's not in the right state of mind."

You think the Lepid will give you a warning or a speech but he simply nods, bending down to make sure you're able to navigate the crowded space before closing the too-small door. 

"You don't have to stay," Taeyong says, collapsing into what you hope is just a pile of pillows. Your eyes are adjusting now–seeing the space, finally. It's chaos, yes, but organized in a way you assume has less to do with his mates' concern than his own self-soothing. 

Everything is clean and smells of a rich leather and woodspice, green rising up from unlit candles and plants illuminated by soft ultraviolet lamps. The floor is missing under a sea of rugs and blankets and pillows in different colors, shapes and sizes. Trophies of a life that you can only imagine litter ceiling-high shelves, between books and statues and even a little aquarium burbling in the dark. 

On the ceiling are stars, of sorts–pinpricks of strung lights spider-webbed beyond a veil of curtains, glass lamps and paper lanterns dimly lit above.

"It's lovely," you say, looking down at his curled form. You make a decision then, shuffling out of your slippers and leaving on the heavy, embroidered robe you'd changed into for the meal.

It's warmer in here than outside, but you still feel a chill as you sink down beside him.

Taeyong's breathing evens out the moment you're in view again, his eyes open and watchful as you pluck a blanket to drape over you both, inching forwards to knock your knees against his. 

"Is this going to be alright?" you ask, seeing the uncertainty in his dark gaze. The purplish light paints him almost two-dimensionally, his plush mouth set in a frown.

He nods after a time, radiating that sharp scent of clean musk you know so well.

"I can just hold you for now," you say–more a caution for your fox than his. His tail beats in answer, making you smile. "That helped last night, didn't it?"

"It did," he says. You'd fallen asleep in a similar fashion, fingers laced between each other as you spoke of your histories, your futures. You suspected he’d needed that time even more than you did to feel comfortable with what would happen today.

"We have a lot to work out later. My penance, first, for marking you without your consent," you say, voice cracking.

"Remember. No apologies," he whispers. "Promise me something, though?"

"Anything."

"Only stay if you want to." His words don't match the pleading in his expression, the distress transferred to you through the tenuous bond you share.

"Promise." You find his hands beneath the cover, cold and clammy, lifting them to your mouth to press kisses to his knuckles. 

His exhale is a shudder of relief, turning around to press himself closer to you. You have to move a few velvety pillows and what looks suspiciously like a stuffed animal in order to find a comfortable spot behind him, wrapping around his taut back like a smaller, softer sleeve.

This, finally, feels like home.

There's something enrapturing about being so close to someone like you–with Wooyoung out in the Wilds it had been the necessity of shared body heat and the species familiarity that had you locked together at night, no sensuality whatsoever. 

Here, pressing your nose into the hair at his nape, a different design is at hand. His heartbeat is loud and steady beneath the white noise of the water filter, slowing with yours. This is safety, you think.

Soon he begins to purr. The sound is too precious for your fox to ignore, finding yourself nuzzling at his bare skin in answer, brought back by the sharp swishing of his tail. 

"Sorry," you murmur, pressing a chaste kiss to his spine. His tail swats you again before you can lock it under a leg thrown over his bony hip, hands kept at a safer distance beneath your chin.

"Sleep," you say. You feel languid, finally, tension easing from every muscle and joint and distant throb in the healing of both. 

With the heat and the comfort you feel between you, you drift down with him.

"No!" You’re not drowning, now, you’re on fire. Green light arcs across your vision, bound for the valley beneath you. "NO!"

"Wake up," You recognize the command and pull yourself up and out of the abyss, throat ragged from screaming.

A door slams open, air rushing in cold and bitter burnt, and you hear Taeyong growl–loud–shifting over you. 

You come back to consciousness with the other fox straddling your hips, strength incredible as he holds you down by your arms while twisted in aggression against the other men outside. It’s still daytime out there, grounding you more in the present. 

"I have her. We're safe," he says. "Don't you dare let him in." 

Words are spoken, anger pin-pricking at your mind until the door slams shut. The feeling recedes, leaving you panting as sweat breaks over your face and body. 

"Shh," Taeyong says, dropping down to press his equally damp forehead to yours. "It was just a nightmare."

"I know, I know," you say, blinking back tears. "I'm sorry to bring them here."

He laughs a little, easing his hold. "You think I haven't had them? I grew up with the airstrikes, too–"

"What did you say?" You feel another wave of cold and pain begin to subsume you, grasping on to rational thought. 

"I still dream about the bombings–" his dilated eyes widen, suddenly just as aware. "Wait. That was you. It was so intense. I felt like I was actually there–"

"No," you protest. "No, oh no."

"Shh," he says, eyes flicking over his shoulder, voice lowering. "We'll be alright. Just relax, please."

You begin to cry, prompting him to let you go, fingers soothing your wrists as if to make up for holding them so tightly. 

"No, no, ____. It will be alright." 

"I really didn't imagine I could ever have that kind of influence. I am a curse, aren't I–?"

Taeyong growls, fisting the pillows beside your head rather than pin you. 

"With me," he orders. "Stay with me."

Surprisingly, your fox complies. You hiccup, meekly, watching his face for a sudden change or danger that never arrives. You only see his ears lower, eyebrows raising.

"Damn," he says, quietly, shifting back to take his weight off your thighs. 

"What?" you ask, still drowsy, sitting up with your robe hanging from your shoulder.

"That–" he begins. "I think I need to–"

"Go?" you finish for him, followed up quickly by an urgent desire for the opposite. "Please don't go. I can leave if you prefer." 

"You don't understand," he says, creeping back. 

"Stay," you order. 

He looks down at you with disappointment, sinking onto your legs until you can feel what he's so pointlessly tried to hide. He's erect in his loose pants, cock trapped against your robed thigh.

"Oh," you say, cheeks aflame. "Of course. Sorry."

"You always apologize for the wrong things." His eyes clench shut, hips involuntarily rocking into your thighs–just once before he pulls back. "I'm the one who should be sorry. You just . . . you feel so good. You have no idea."

But you do. Warmth spreads through your belly at the sound he makes in the back of his throat, choked and needy. 

“I’m going to help you,” you say, rolling your hips up.

"I can't, though–we can wait until–" he's pleading more with himself than you, you think. 

"We talked about this. Yes, you can." You grasp at his shoulders to pull him down. He flops down comically beside you, looking defeated. His head is buried in the bustle of pillows beside you, eyes losing focus as you pet him.

"I know I’m not myself, too, but I meant it when I said I wanted you first," you say, running a hand over his head, pushing back his fur to hold his ears down. "Let me fix what I started. Mate me.”

"But . . ." Taeyong's lip wobbles.

"Unless you don't want that? Do you need me to do something . . . Else?"

You're not entirely sure how this will work, but you know it's only fair that you help break his heat. Time was running out.

He pulls you into his arms, sharp chin atop your head.

"You're so precious," he murmurs. 

"If you like I can be in control," you say. "I can take care of you. Taeil showed me."

He laughs into your hair, rubbing soothing circles into your back.

"Did Doyoung tell you I'm a pillow prince?"

"You do have a lot of them," you sniff. 

That makes him laugh harder.

"I know it must be strange being in another person’s nest. If you . . . we'll help you build your own. Wherever you want it."

"Thank you." You try to keep your voice light but he's tuned into the sadness of realizing how useless it would be without your claims to share it. He clutches you so tightly you have to actively fight the claustrophobia.

"I really should have stayed here," he says. "As useless as I am when I'm in heat–rut–whatever this is, I think I could have taken care of you, too.” 

You feel hot and itchy at the admission. 

“Do you know, I couldn't stop thinking about you.” His voice is even lower now, nails soothing your spine. “What it would be like to be needed by someone like you.” 

"Did you really want to?" you ask. "It's not just because I bit you? Or because of . . ." 

There's so much in your mind to try and quiet, doubt ever present. You let his scent infuse you instead, playing with the strands of hair curling under his jaw. 

He rubs his face against your hairline, pressing a dry, soft kiss to your forehead. 

"I've never been with a girl before, much less another omega . . . Not that I'm not attracted, it was just too dangerous to be with anyone outside the pack. Do you understand?"

You nod. 

"So in a way, I'll be your first?"

"You know you feel safe to me, too," Taeyong whispers.

It's a comfort to hear that, after everything. At least even if you feel estranged from them all he's still on your side. Perhaps it's just because you’re family, or shared species or birth designation, but you won't take it for granted. 

"How does this work?" you ask. "What can I do for you?" 

"We don't need to rush. Let's take it slow and see what we both like, yes?" 

You enjoy the thought of exploring with him, even more when he moves lower to kiss your face, smooth lips tracing your features. Unlike Johnny's shyness you think he's trying to keep from appearing desperate, avoiding your mouth until you take it for yourself.

You kiss him, gently, teeth kept locked away as he licks into your lips. He's an incredible lover in this regard alone, stroking your tongue with his and swallowing your soft moans. 

Soon you're entwined, your hips rocking together through your clothing, almost more sensual without bare skin. But you want it, stroking his belly beneath his thick shirt until he takes it off. You're immediately exploring the dark, winding pattern of a tattoo wrapped around his lean torso, distracted by how intricate it is. 

"A dragon?" you ask, pressing your lips to the scales inked into his shoulder. It's a traditional, ancient design–greens and blues muddied by the magenta light. Like the old myths, you think–a fitting enemy for a tiger.

"Yes–" Taeyong gasps as you lick at his nipple, sucking the bud into your mouth. He seems to enjoy it, but pushes you down after a moment.

"May I?" he asks, waiting for your nod before his firm hands trail down your body, plucking at the sash of your robe. 

He looks at you dangerously, eyelids lowered as he parts the clothing to reveal your thin underwear. Slick has already drenched your thighs, a little noise erupting in the back of your throat as he curls down, pulling aside your bra to taste you.

"You're so, so soft," he whispers, sucking gently on your breast, rolling the other beneath his thumb. Your hands bury in his thick hair as he pushes the meat of it upwards, exploring your shape. “And sweet.”

You're losing yourself already at the tender laps, sex throbbing as he teases you, ears brushing against your thighs when he goes lower and you shyly close your legs around his head. 

"Open up for me, baby." His tone is deeper, a little more rasped with need. 

"I should be pleasing you," you whisper, but he shushes you by flipping you onto your stomach. For a moment you're paralyzed by the memory of being face-first on a cold floor, and just as quickly he's recognized it and off of you, soothing your curled back.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to–"

"No, no," you breathe, sitting up. "I'm not afraid. Just. Do you think I could be above you?"

You’d wanted to know what it was like to be with a less dominant mate, you think this might be your only chance.

"I don't think I could say no to that even if I wanted to." His breath leaves him in a shaky exhale as he lies back, pulling you on top of him as you try to strip down, distracted by the hands and mouth fighting to explore every inch of exposed skin. You feel as hazy as if you were sedated, too, moaning when he grabs your thighs to pull you down onto his face.

You fist the pile above his head as his breaths make you cool, his nose brushing against your heat as he laves carefully at the sensitive gland at your inner thigh. It's such a light touch but your body responds intensely, pleasure like butterfly wings brushing inside you as your nipples harden and your toes curl.

"Oh gods," he says, tongue darting out to collect drips of sweat and slick from your skin, dragging across your underwear. "It's better than I imagined. Kind of like ambrosia." 

You whine in earnest now, back arched to present yourself for him from above. He licks into your folds, pulling aside your underwear to bury his tongue in your heat. Your hips move of their own accord and it makes him even more bold in fucking you with his mouth; the deeper he works the muscle into you the more you writhe, clamped down by his hands spreading your gap to expose you for him.

He pulls away the moment you feel like you're getting closer to your climax, breathing just as hard and glossy with your release. 

"I don't want to breed you just yet," he murmurs, making you whine. "Can I just do this until your legs can't hold you up, anymore?"

"Please, Alph–" you stop, realizing your mistake, but he only laughs, thumbs kneading the fat at the crest of your thighs.

"You can call me that," he soothes. 

"Do you like it?" you ask, cocking your head to look down at him. He's not capable of recognizing your question, it seems, as he buries his damp face in your tail, marking you with your own scent. 

"Don't you want to breed me, Alpha?" you ask, experimentally.

"Fuck, don't stop," he says, finally shuffling free of his pants, almost making you collapse on him in his haste. You hold steady, moving down his body to take him in your mouth, grabbed loosely by the scalp to stop.

"Let me make you feel good," you say, already licking a stripe up his shaft and tasting salt and something sweeter. He's a solid weight in your hand–a little softer than you expected and lacking a significant knot but perfect, you think. Yours.  

"Turn around, then," he says, rough. "I'm not finished."

You don't know what he means until you're dragged bodily back, underwear torn by what you think might be his teeth, unable to see with your face buried in the crook of his thigh as he devours you again. You struggle to wrap your lips around him, too lost in the scrape of canines on your inner thigh and your own muffled noises, feeling the tightness in your belly ebb whenever he pulls back just as you're close to sliding over into bliss. 

"Please," you whimper, grip tightening on his cock to slow him down. "Please, Alpha."

"Not yet," he moans, muffling it with your sex. "Want to feel it."

You struggle out of his arms, settling down over his narrow hips to rub desperately against his length, coating him and your fur equally in slick and spit. He pulls you down, holding you tight to keep from riding him as he slides between your folds.

"I can't wait, ____, it hurts so bad not being in you," he groans in your ear. "Tell me you want it."

"Knot me, Alpha." You don't know if he's capable of it but you don't care, too hellbent on having him fill you. It was silly of you to think you could take your time, you know he needs this as much as you do. 

"Want you so badly, Alpha," you say. "Breed me, please."

Desperation has you clawing the pillows beneath your legs, trying to angle yourself to guide him inside of you. He holds your hips, hoisting his own to catch you just right. The first slide into your heat is so much different than what you expected, the perfect fit in how easily he can move inside you, hitting the curve in that sensitive place just inside.

He doesn't pull out completely, instead rocking into you until he’s fully sheathed, dragging against muscles inside of you that tighten for you automatically, gripping him hard. 

"That’s so good," he repeats, claws digging into your skin below your breasts as he pushes up into you fluidly. "So soft inside too, velvet."

Any concern about him not having a knot to ease your suffering is erased as you feel his thick base stretching you wide, fighting against the constriction that is utterly out of your control, like you can't and won't let him go now that you have him at your mercy. 

You hold his head to you so he can lose himself in the pleasure of tonguing your shape, suckling and biting in a way that makes you flutter even more inside.

"You really like that, don't you baby–" He loses his words when you tense on him again, not sure if you're forcing him out or drawing him in deeper. 

"Yes, Alpha." Your mind is obliterated, disappearing into the soft light and the ache of pulsating around him. You feel so good and warm and wanted. "Breed me, fill me with your pups."

When Taeyong comes it's with his teeth scraping the softness over your heart, tongue wrapped around your nipple. He jerks inside you as warmth surges in your belly, your voice's higher pitch mixing with his low growls and whines. He doesn't stop pumping into you, throbs of heat radiating between you as you finally can't hold yourself up anymore.

Artificial fur slides against your back, real fur under your stomach where your tail, or his, is trapped between you as he pulls you over. Now on top he fucks you into the pillows, rough but somehow tender, teeth closing on your neck to tug at the healed skin, not breaking it but bruising it deep enough to mark it. It makes you lose yourself, too, scratching his strong back until he bites you more, and harder.   

"Don't stop, please don't stop," you cry out, finally feeling that dam break inside of pure euphoria, your own release a hot gush squeezed out of you around him. That tightness in your core doesn't let up even with the tics of pleasure around him softening inside you.

"Good omega, good baby," he says, finally able to make a word that isn't a grunt or moan of pleasure. "Can't stop, you're already making me hard again, I'm sorry–"

"What is happening . . . ?" You can't finish what you're murmuring either, gasping at the way each word makes you seize again, like you never finished in the first place. You expected him to slip out of you but that's not happening, nor is his spend coming out of you.

He picks you up, gently, rolling you both onto your side so you can breathe more deeply, pulling you against him. 

"You locked me," He laughs softly, choking a bit as you try to squeeze the muscles inside you experimentally. "Never in a million years did I think . . ." 

"Is that bad?" you ask, feeling vulnerable. Taeyong nibbles at your bottom lip, licking immediately after in case he's caused you pain.

"No. It's perfect. You're so perfect it's hard not to believe you weren't actually made just for me."

Your fox is in rapture, being told she's good enough–for once not empty praise but something to make you feel like you belong. You hold his head to yours, noses bumping. Rubbing his scarred ear between your thumb and index makes him pant a little as his fingers dip between your closed legs, buried in your fur. 

"Relax for me," he says, "Now we can really take it slow."

"Yes, please, yes," you whimper, gripping his shoulders to push against him. "Yes, Alpha."

"I should be calling you that," he murmurs, licking at your jaw. "Since you claimed me."

"Oh," you say.

There's not very many thoughts in your head with adoration and joy circulating instead but you do remember the physiology of female Alphas being markedly different than yours. It was unfortunate that it was often spoken of in the context of failures of hybrid breeding programs, the unstated prejudice against them even more taboo than male omegas in an intolerant culture. 

But you don't feel like a failure, or a mistake. Not now, not with being able to please your mate so thoroughly.  

"You feel like both to me," you gasp out as his fingers lazily explore your sex, answered in the tensing of your walls around him. He's still only half-hard but you can feel him rousing for you, ready to give you more. 

Taeyong grinds into you, leg twining over yours to deepen his thrusts. "You feel like both to me, too."

Kim Doyoung [Lepus europaeus α]

"This is bad."

Doyoung checks his agent again, the sky already darkening as mid-afternoon passes into evening. It's not just the deadline, or the weight of dread in his chest, but the fact that it's been an hour and a half since your screams turned into different sounds altogether, loud enough for his sensitive ears and unfortunately–everyone else in the vicinity. 

"Make a call, then." Johnny says, a cold towel draped over his face. Like some of the other members of the pack he'd already taken it out on gym equipment, hands a little bloody despite healing from pummeling them raw. The others had evacuated to their own retreats not long after clean-up, Mark and Haechan heading down to the lower levels to check in with what little remained of their meal. From the distant sounds of gunfire below some of the others must be running CQD drills as their preferred form of distraction.

"I'll separate them," he sighs. "We shouldn't have left them alone in the first place."

"No, we shouldn't have. But here we are." The Felid is currently stretched out on his couch, having become a somewhat permanent fixture in his home. It wasn’t like he didn’t understand the desire to constantly be near one’s mate, certainly never able to travel far during ritual.

"Are you going to help me?" Doyoung sighs,

Johnny pulls down the cloth, cracking an eye open. "Why? Afraid she'll take a bite out of you, too?”

"It's not her I'm worried about." One of the many benefits of hybrid companionship, he thinks–was being intimately familiar with the mating habits of vulpes vulpes. He checks the syringe gun Taeil had left them–two just in case.

"How do you want to go about this?" he asks.

"I thought you were the planner here," Johnny remarks, tone acid. 

"Oh for fucks sake, be an adult about this." Doyoung paces, loosening his tie. He's not sure if he should get fitted into gloves or body armor but he supposes it would only make things worse considering how tight the space is to navigate.

"I go in first and get her. You get Taeyong."

"Brave," Johnny says dryly.

"She can order you, jackass."

"Should I wear earplugs?"

Doyoung doesn't waste another second fielding the Alpha's snark, heading to the dreaded foxhole. Lord knows he's been in a similar position as you before, thankfully with the wherewithal and means to order Taeyong down. It didn't mean you couldn't do the same, just that if his hunch was correct, you lacked the mental capacity to do so. 

"____," he asks, quietly, opening the door. 

The room is positively drenched in the overripe fruit scent of sex, nothing unexpected considering it had been seeping through the cracks for a while. One of the requirements of any good nest design was ventilation, of course, that had been accounted for but two omegas-worth of perfume could not be contained that easily. 

He hears a soft whine, and then a low growl–too deep and masculine to be yours. Of course, he thinks–he knew that burning sensation in the pit of his stomach wasn't imagined. It had been a long time since Taeyong slipped into rut behavior but it was always a strong possibility with the therapy he maintained.

"It's just me," he says, cautious as he slips in, eyes adjusting to the low light. 

Thank god his species was nocturnal, although another reminder that it was to avoid being preyed upon by the creatures in the room. Another snarl startles him from behind, causing him to hit his head on the nearest shelf.

Immediately there's chaos as someone–something takes a swipe at him, claws snagging in his shirt. He's thrown back, syringe gun dropping from his startled grip as Johnny threads past him, mostly beast, pinning Taeyong with a massive paw. 

Doyoung pulls back as he finally meets your wild, slitted gaze, teeth bared. 

"Down," he says, sitting up and fumbling for the medication. As soon as you see it your tail curls, shoulders hunching into a shape best suited for a lunge. 

"Get that thing away from me." Your voice is strained, overgrown canines making you lisp slightly. He fights the urge to laugh at your feral appearance, placing it on the shelf close enough to reach in a hurry before raising his hands.

"Do I need to order you, again, Princess?" he asks, keeping his tone neutral even though his heart is racing beyond his control. He's not immune to the instinct to avoid those orange-touched eyes looking at him like he's your next meal, choosing to lock eyes with you.

You know who's in charge, eyes sliding down submissively even as you snap your teeth.

"Don't order me." You shake your head, grimacing after a moment as you adjust under the robe you'd half-heartedly covered yourself with. Doyoung sits up, hand coming to rest on the back of your neck. Immediately you're stilled, tail flopping fish-like behind you.

A cry bursts out of you as Taeyong chooses that moment to fight back, trying to reach up past Johnny to claw him off of you–Doyoung is prepared for his mate's betrayal but not your intervention.

"Sleep!" you bark, voice pained. 

It works like a charm–he's never seen Taeyong respond to a command that quickly or effectively, perhaps aided by the exhaustion so clearly lining his face. You look terrible, as well, drenched in sweat, hair tangled around your ears so even their movements are obscured, flattened in pain and anxiety. 

It’s not what he expected to find after that prolonged session but he suspects from the minor wounds you both bear your animals had taken over in more than just behavior. You're probably sore.

"Thank you for obeying," he murmurs, stroking your neck. “Let’s get you out of here and bathed–”

"We have a problem." Johnny is human again, thank goodness, already attempting to lift the unconscious Vulpine from the wreckage of unstuffed pillows and torn clothing.

"We do," you whine, hunching down over Taeyong protectively. 

"We're stuck."

[previous] [next] [check the masterlist before you proceed]

#agtbtb #nct 127 fic #nct fic #nct smut #nct x reader #nct 127 fanfic #nct imagines #nct 127 cyberpunk au #nct fanfic #nct omegaverse au #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 smut #nct 127 imagines #taeyong x reader #taeyong x y/n #taeyong x you #taeyong smut

[catindabag]

In your Au in the future who is Katniss Nepo Baby Everdeen mentor who is also her duet for her performance is it Haymitch, Effie or is it a capitol student a descendant of Sejanus and Coryo and what is Katniss usually like other than being way happier and pretty much getting everything she ever wanted and needed

Oh, Panem, Horn of Plenty. The crack!AU Everdeen timeline is gonna be a mess.😂

Fortunately, Katniss “Nepo Baby” Everdeen is not gonna be like her super famous crazy singing rainbow bird grand aunt (Lucy Gray) because our ✨Girl on Fire✨ will have the same serious personality as her canon self.

But she’s also going to volunteer steal poor little Prim’s spot (out of spite and for fun) as D12’s official ✨Panemvision Female Tribute✨💅.

Unfortunately, Catnip’s greatest rivals will be Glimmer (D1’s youngest and fairest opera singer), Cato (D2’s hottest theatre nerd and rock whispering prodigy) and Clove (D2’s youngest broadway musical genius).

Moreover, Peeta Mellark (who whistles like a pro) will be Katniss Everdeen’s official “duet partner” because her extremely gorgeous Capitol Mentor, Seginus Cadmus Plinth-Snow-Creed-Price (AKA: the gorgeous grandson of Coryo, Sejanus, Festus, and Persephone) got stuck in a dusty broom closet with poor sensitive Philip Anthony Ravinstill-Anderson (AKA: the wacky socialite grandson of Felix and Androcles).😅

Nevertheless, here are some other interesting “facts” in this weird timeline:

1. Primrose and Buttercup (the crusty cat) are the unapologetically ruthless founders and leaders of the infamous Anti-Katniss Everdeen Fan Club. #antivolunteer #realroseofD12

2. Poor Peeta had to fight a jealous Gale Hawthorne (via dance off battle) in order to defend his “rights” as D12’s official male Tribute for the upcoming Panemvision competition.

3. Crazy Lucy Gray married Panini Panlo for fun. She also had a lot of kids with him for fun.

4. Coryo and President Sejanus are still madly in love with each other even after the birth of their 35th grandchild.😍😂

5. Hilarius Heavensbee is the favorite nanny of Sejanus and Coryo’s grandchildren.

6. Glimmer is a very popular opera singer in D1 because of Facet and Velvereen’s influence.

7. Rue can’t sing to save her life because of Reaper Ash (but don’t ask why).😔

8. Foxface is the “Hannah Montana” of her District.

9. Brandy is still a self proclaimed werewolf.

10. Sejanus is still the President of Panem because of Coryo, Festus, Lizzie, Felix, and Clemmie’s collective insistence. #SejiPieforlife

11. Tigris is still a fashionista cheese merchant.

12. Mizzen the Gremlin and Percy Price are still the ruthless rulers of their Pizza Palace Empire.

13. Festus Creed still dumpster dives with Coryo and Pup for fun.

14. Effie Trinket is half Ravinstill.

15. Haymitch Abernathy’s Capitol Mentor, Cassius Perseus Plinth-Snow-Creed-Price is the oldest grandson of Sejanus, Coryo, Festus, and Persephone.

16. Finnick Odair’s Capitol Mentor, Faustina Pleione Creed-Price is the youngest daughter of Festus and Persephone.

17. Lysistrata is still the proud leader of the SnowPlinth Fan Club.

18. Dill is still the Mayor of D11.

19. Reaper Ash is still looking for “normalcy.”

20. Lamina is still crying because of Lucy Gray, Coral, and Mizzen.

21. Half of Sejanus and Coryo’s children and grandchildren have “Complete Heterochromia” for some reason (one blue, one brown).

22. The Plinth-Snow Dynasty is still the most powerful and influential family in Panem thanks to old scheming Strabo and the Grandma’am.

23. Mags and Mizzen are cousins.

24. Maude Ivory is still busy selling and reselling popcorn balls with Mrs. Everdeen (illegally).

25. One of Sejanus and Coryo’s gorgeous sons (Cepheus) married Panlo and Lucy Gray’s youngest daughter (Poppy) because of ✨love✨ political reasons.😏

#tbosas #crack post #snowplinth #snowjanus #coriolanus snow #sejanus plinth #lucy gray baird #festus creed #felix ravinstill #mizzen #coral #reaper ash #lysistrata vickers #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #primrose everdeen #finnick odair #effie trinket #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #president snow #crack ship #suzanne collins #thg #thg incorrect quotes #thg fanfiction #thg fic #tbosas fic #tbosas incorrect quotes

[cherxyx]

A small piece part of a upcoming series 🤍.

The master list for this series and the other ones. Dynasty

warnings: children mentioned, arguing, blood, mentioned of murder, ABUSE, READER (y/n) DOES GET HIT, yelling, cussing, reader (y/n) gets backed up in a corner, both can be looked at as toxic, toxic relationships, throwing objects, mentions of past abuse

Italic + bold is past tense

Italic is present tense

11:40 PM

"Mommy, are we going to grandma's house because you're mad at daddy?" questioned your oldest child, the question making you want to cry and yell. But you weren't going to burst into tears in the presence of your kids.

"No, sweetheart, Grandma misses you both," you say, looking between your two children. You said your goodbyes to them and your grandmother, making sure they were both belted up. You made sure to Thank your grandmother for taking them this weekend on such short notice.

"Be safe," you yelled while they drove away out of the driveway. When they were out of sight, you headed to your house. "Such an idiot," you murmured as you walked back into the house.

(Clicking read more is you consenting to read dark content. You have been warned)

12:30 AM

You and him have been arguing since you returned home. "You're such a fucking idiot, why the fuck did you come home drenched in blood?" "Didn't you think the kids were awake?" From across the room, you yelled at him.

You had both made your way up to your guys' shared room. He was no longer wearing a shirt and was simply wearing black pants. "Listen, I knew the children were there, but-" "but what," you interjected. His jaw had clenched and he glared at you with those eyes that seemed to stare directly through you. But you weren't about to give up.

"Interrupt me again, and I'll throw your ass outside," he stated, anticipating you to do something, but you didn't. You wanted him to explain himself. "I realized the girls were here, but I assumed they were in bed because it was 11 p.m."

"It's Friday, so they can stay up as late as they want, you fucking idiot." "Rule 1 of the house is to make sure you don't walk in with blood all over you," you yelled at him, tossing his bloody shirt at him. He caught it before it hit him in the face.

"The first rule of the house is that you don't fucking throw shit at the person who runs the house." "The person who has gotten you everything!" He responded by yelling back. Because of the ranting and rage, both of you were breathing heavily.

"I'm so really going to get on you for throwing shit." "Remember that time you threw a fucking vase at me?" you asked, approaching him. He moved closer to you, grinning, "I only threw it because you threw a pan at me." At this point, you were both standing face to face. inches apart

"What a terrible father. "Reminds me of your father," you notice when his smirk fades and his jaw ticks again. "I'm leaving and going somewhere else," you mentioned as you turned around and proceeded to the closet. You began packing while mumbling under your breath curses, grabbing a bag and clothes to pack in.

You knew he was staring at you, those same eyes boring through you. "No, you're not," he said as he approached you. You looked up from your bag to see him close to you. "Yes I am, you bast-" you couldn't finish your statement before his hand landed on your cheek.

You fell awkwardly into your nightstand. You were holding your cheek, as you figured out how to get out of the room. He approached you, grabbed your neck, choked you, and slammed you back into the nightstand. The impact forced you to grunt.

"Remember what I said? "What did I fucking say, you bitch?" he screamed in your face, tightening his hold on your neck. "That I wasn't leaving," you said hastily. You looked about desperately to see if there was anything you could use to get him off.

"Look at me," he whispered, and you gazed up at him, tears welling up in your eyes as a result of his grip. "I will kill you if you ever look at me and tell me I'm a bad father." He paused, “No, I won't murder you. I will torture you every day until you break, and when you break, I will kill you," he said suddenly letting go.

You began coughing and struggling to catch your breath. "Same empty threats" you said before coughing again. "I know. Wanna see if I'll do it this time," he sneered. You knew he'd do it if he wanted to. No, you replied while shaking your head.

"What I thought, unpack your bag and go to bed," he remarked as he exited the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. These nights had you questioning whether the arranged marriage was worth it or if you had fallen into a trap.

#anime #fanfic #mafia au #yakuza #tw. dark content #tw.abuse #content warning #haikyuu mafia #jujutsu kaisen #tokyo revengers #attack on titan #hq x reader #haikyuu smut #jjk x reader #aot mafia #aot x you #haikyuu headcanons #jjk headcanons #mafia series #tw choking #tw slapping #tokyo rev x reader #this is depressing #this has been sitting in my drafts #hq smut #jjk smut #aot smut #tokyo rev smut #tw abuse #toxic relationship

[aeor-is-for-reccing]

Cultural Differences - Shadowgast Recs

This week, we have twelve fics exploring cultural differences between Caleb and Essek! Read more under the cut.

Careful Steps by chaya (6066, Teen) Warnings: None A pre-episode 97 fic about Essek's attempts at courting Caleb according to both Kryn and Empire customs. Reccer says: It builds a cohesive picture of Kryn rules of courtship and by showing the wizards' interactions through this lens, it manages to express emotion and desire in subtle and often humorous ways.

Widogast 101: Introduction to Bread by ThreeGremlinsInATrenchcoat (2524, General) Warnings: None Caleb finds out that Essek has never eaten bread before, so he brings him a lot of Zemnian breads to try. Reccer says: Caleb is so fascinated with Essek's opinions on the different types of bread. It's very endearing.

my kingdom for a braid by hanap (10998, Teen) Warnings: minor violence Caleb and Essek are the rulers of the Empire and the Dynasty as well as star crossed lovers. When Caleb reaches out, years later, with what he thinks is a romantic gesture, Essek understands it as a declaration of war. Reccer says: It's got dramatic irony! It's got a wonderful breadth of POV characters! It's beautifully written!

In the Interest of Identity by firefright (2232, General) Warnings: None A late night talk on the importance of names. Reccer says: Some lovely pining and Dynasty worldbuilding

Inventory by Operafloozy (3862, Teen) Warnings: None Yasha helps Essek out with some cultural misunderstandings, and also packing. Reccer says: Great worldbuilding and voices - it's about Essek and Caleb's relationship, but also Essek and Yasha and how they relate to the Dwendalians in their lives.

the apple of one’s eye by saturdaysky (1286, Teen) Warnings: None Essek gifts Caleb a very authentic traditional Zemnian garment. Or so he thinks. Reccer says: Hilarious, sweet, and surprisingly hot! It’s a quick read but a memorable one.

gilded by renquise (1949, Teen) Warnings: None A deliciously horny little fic with an old dynasty courting custom at the centre. Reccer says: For such a short little fic, the world and the characters feel so rich and lived in. Super hot as well as tender and sweet and a treat for hand kink havers!

And All the Trifles, Sweet and Frail by Interrobang (2329, Explicit) Warnings: Trans Essek-- this fic includes vaginal fingering. Drow have certain customs about handwear and hand-to-hand contact. By Kryn standards, Caleb is a bit of a trollop. Reccer says: Excellent sense of tension and sensuality, but also, the fact Essek finds handholding to be Extremely Scandalous is SUPER funny to me.

Appetites by portraitofemmy (1793, Explicit) Warnings: None Essek muses on the voracious nature of humans. Reccer says: Lush, indulgent, and gorgeous

In My Head, I'm Yours by Marmeladeskies (31346, Teen) Warnings: no warnings “I… my Den’s annual meeting is coming up, and I need a plus one, to put it simply.” “You need someone to pretend to be your daaaaaaaate?” Essek brings Caleb as his "fake" date to a family reunion. Feels and shenanigans ensue. Reccer says: I love the in-depth depiction of the Dynasty as a matriarchy, and thus Essek as a male drow has to put up with much of the same bullshit that female-presenting humans do. The flipped social dynamics are super interesting to me.

For these last two, we had multiple recs each for them:

Indecency by RainyDayDecaf (5898, Teen) Warnings: None Caleb and Essek keep accidentally performing courtship rituals from the other's culture Reccer 1 says: A really adorable 6+1 fic, super cute and sweet Reccer 2 says: It's just very cute and fluffy. The boys are in love and stupid about it at times. Reccer 3 says: The wizards are flirting and pining and blushing and accidentally going WAY TOO FAR with their intended gestures because of cultural differences. It's soft and sweet and funny and like a warm hug.

In the Closet of our Discretion by Firefright (12280, Mature) Warnings: None Caleb gets a hands-on lesson on how the many layers of Dynasty formalwear. By taking it off Essek. Reccer 1 says: I love the worldbuilding inherent in it, along with the wonderful build-up of tension as Caleb removes each layer. Reccer 2 says: Such a good study of dynasty clothing. Reccer 3 says: Well written, romantic, and sexy! Reccer 4 says: If you like costume porn or headcanons about the Dynasty having pseudo-Victorian modesty standards, then this is the fic for you. Disclaimer: despite my costume porn description, there is no actual smut in this, though it does have one of the hottest disrobing scenes I've ever read.

Have some questions? Wonder who's doing this? Check out our FAQ, and look for us next week, when we'll have a new rec list centered around canon divergent AU's!

#shadowgast #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #Critical Role #CR Fic #CR fic recs #Cultural Differences

[gatoraid]

My hot take on Wang Baoxiang is that he is simultaneously one of the biggest AND worst allies in the Yuan Dynasty

Like, he spends two books trying to make all these closeted gay men around him to get in touch with their feelings about other men…….

but then also proceeds to kill all of them???

#honestly he was rooting for ouyang and esen to get together so much but he was so petty abt it until the very end it’s so hilarious #like the speech he makes for ouyang at the end is literally 'my brother loved you hope you have a happier life next time around idiot' #and with the third prince he just used his whole body to make him overcome internalized homophobia #now that’s commitment #this is both extremely serious and extremely unserious post #sobbb #wang baoxiang why are you like this #the radiant emperor #anyway good night I’ve clearly been online for too long #shitposting

[comradekatara]

I love all the amazing outfits you've dreamt up for Katara in your art.

My question is, do you imagine that post-war Katara is super into designing and/or making her own banging outfits, or is there a cohort other folks that are ensuring that their hero is as well dressed as possible?

thank you i love drawing her in cute outfits it is like therapy to me. and oooh what a fun question!! we know that katara is a capable seamstress (yet another parallel to zuko lol) and that she loves fashion, so i definitely think that katara would buy all sorts of fabrics to design/sew/make her own clothes with, but also that she would receive a lot of gifts, some to her taste, and some that she sees fit to hand off to suki or zuko instead. i made a post in the past that was about how toph would foist all her fancy clothes onto katara, which proves symbiotic for both of them (it's a shame that i legally cannot draw toph in her adorable tang dynasty hanfu because i do really love that style, but my workaround to that particular quandary is simply by drawing other characters in a cute tang dynasty hanfu instead).

i do like the idea of katara having a team of professional stylists, just because it is truly what she deserves, and i think that she would enjoy being evaluated by the firelord's official tailors who take her measurements once and then proceed to send her a new wardrobe every season, but she herself would not consider it necessary or even feasible to hire a professional team. she's not royalty after all, nor is she the kind of wealthy earth kingdom family that prioritizes such matters, either. no, in truth, her personal team of stylists consist primarily of herself, her doting gran gran, and aang, who often makes her jewelry, such as friendship bracelets and funky earrings. but one of katara's core precepts is the importance of looking cute on a budget, so it truly is a testament to her ability to serve looks no matter the occasion that she can really just pick any old thing out of her closet and still manages to be an absolute fashion icon.

#the-wright #asks #katara #postwargaang #i've seen your other ask too and it's reminding me that i have a really old post in my drafts that i never finished #that's just cute little katara tidbits about her life after the war #if someone cares enough to send me an ask to remind me i'll try to dig it up and revive it when i can!

[eisoj5]

I haven’t posted a whole lot here about this project, but I finally wore it to Celebration on Saturday and have various pictures so it’s time!!

Leia’s Bespin dress has always been my favorite, probably because the colors are in line with a palette I like. I decided a while back that I wanted to make a hanfu version of it, inspired by cationdesigns’ hanfu Ariel. The costume seemed like it would translate especially well to Song dynasty hanfu because it’s relatively simple: tunic, pants, and cape, which I (currently) have done as moxiong (tank top), pants, and layered beizi (jackets). I also wanted to lean into the Chinese cloud design because Cloud City :D

Wanting to do Bespin Leia meant deciding if I wanted to try all the embroidery, which is why I worked on other random projects last summer to see if I really could dig in and learn how. I started actually embroidering my Spoonflower printed fabric for the costume in October 2022, and finished the fourth panel of motifs by the first week of March 2023. (There were some delays due to to other projects, haha.) In February or so I worked on drafting and tweaking the patterns for the beizi and moxiong from a hanfu pattern making book available on Amazon, so that in March I could hopefully knock everything out in a couple of weekends and be done in time for SWCE.

Figuring out what to do about the embroidered fabric was the hardest part. I talked to Ronnie at length about it as well as cosplay friends, and ultimately went with what you see here. I wound up taking the entire piece of fabric and my pattern pieces to the library so that I could trace directly onto it and decide placement. Actually cutting into embroidery that I’d worked on for months was surprisingly not as stressful as I anticipated, largely because I’d spent so long tracing the pattern on that I just had to trust myself that I’d done it correctly and just get the rotary cutter out.

A few more notes about the make:

patterns: self-drafted everything except for the pants, which are Winslow Culottes from Helen’s Closet

white embroidered fabric is from general_leah on Spoonflower

red chiffon (with auspicious cloud print) beizi underlayer, earrings, pendant, hair stick, and trim for belt are all from Etsy

red silk noil for moxiong and pants is from Fancy Tiger Crafts

red chiffon pibo scarf is a table runner from Amazon XD

purse is from New Moon Dance

shoes were from the thrift store with my insoles stuck in them so I could survive a con in flats -- which actually WORKED! (I also wore socks.)

#josie needs a proper star wars tag #bespin leia #princess leia #princess leia cosplay #leia organa #star wars cosplay #star wars celebration #hanfu inspired #song dynasty hanfu inspired #josie makes things #sewing project #cosplay project #empire strikes back cosplay

[magistralucis]

Every time I think about Neth I want to eat my hands.,,.. even accounting for his troubles Oltyx King was No Good Incredibly Fucking Terrible to that dude!!! It's maddening because Neth triggers Oltyx's compassion almost as often as Yenekh does, Oltyx just feels inherently entitled to treat him like dirt because 1) Neth's station is lowly, 2) his engrams are degraded, and 3) he's a constant reminder of Sedh which Oltyx holds three centuries' worth of rage about. Oltyx finds the idea Neth achieving anything ridiculous, even reading this contempt into other people's reactions (e.g. 'Pakhet’s razor-edged faceplate did not even twitch in the degraded old soldier’s direction'), and acts like every good thing Neth does is against expectations (e.g. 'Neth had only underperformed slightly', 'even Neth had managed to contribute'). Oltyx fundamentally refuses to believe in this man because he can't face what Neth represents in his broken mind: his exile, then the loss of hope for his dynasty. When in reality, every other word out of Neth is hope!

Sure, deep down Oltyx doesn't feel great about treating Neth that way. He does find merit in Neth if he's allowed to think about it, and ultimately, Neth's end was a choice Neth himself made. But if every positive thought you've had about someone only appeared in hindsight, and if you never expressed said thoughts before that person was gone, that's a bell you can never unring. You only get so many honest loyal supporters with no blood pit in their closets in TDK, and in a world where said blood pit supporters are the best you have, to not do right by someone like Neth is an injustice. Neth was designed to be a morality pet and yet could not be saved and got plasma blasted for his trouble 😭😭😭

#warhammer 40k #wh40k #the twice dead king #oltyx #neth #necrons #necron #i know oltyx has a lot going on but imo his disdain of neth is genuinely repugnant #especially since -his own minds- do not want him to disdain neth and fall squarely on the side of mercy/grace #neth is in many ways the demonstrative figure for how much oltyx's surroundings have broken him #oltyx has a surprisingly large well of compassion for him but it's locked behind layers and layers of asshole behaviour #because above all it is 'correct' that a royal should disdain his inferiors... and unlike yenekh neth can't ask forgiveness later #yenekh is at least part of the sedhian triumvirate. neth can only ever be someone oltyx's will is unilaterally imposed on #and oltyx is often willfully unkind to him not just in actions but in his deepest thoughts #oltyx king does need to be held accountable for that i don't make the rules i'm sorry

[merlincersei]

Merlin BBC UK TV Show - A Psychological Analysis Series Part 7

Season 5 Episode 3 - “ Death Song Of Uther Pendragon”

One of the most interesting episode in the series is the “ Death Song Of Uther Pendragon”.

In this episode we are exposed to the some less flattering aspects of Arthur’s character:

1) HYPOCRISY:

Arthur knowingly uses witchcraft by blowing the Horn of Cathbhadh to communicate with his deceased father.

It seems Arthur is okay with using magic when it benefits him despite maintaining the overall ban on magic in Camelot.

2) LYING:

Arthur hides the fact he is going to use the Horn of Cathbhadh, even from GWEN…..(Let that sink in). But of course not Merlin….because of reasons……….

3) INSECURITY:

Arthur tells Uther that he is his own man ………but at the same time desperately seeks Uther’s approval.

But the most interesting moments in the episode involve Uther Pendragon.

1) HE IS A TERRIBLE FATHER:

Uther is back and he is hopping mad. He spends all his time criticizing and berating Arthur.

Their interaction helps emphasize the contradiction between Uther and Balinor.

When Uther comes back from the dead he spends his time criticizing Arthur.

When Balinor’s spirit communicates with Merlin in Season 5 Episode 12, he uplifts and encourages his son.

2) ATTEMPTED FILICIDE:

Uther actually tries to kill Arthur. The reason which Uther states is his disapproval on how Arthur has governed his kingdom.

This story point does not make sense because Arthur was Uther’s sole heir and if he had killed Arthur, Camelot would have been without a King and the Pendragon dynasty could have ended right there.

While Uther was one of the main antagonist of the series his one redeeming feature was his repressed affection for his son.

However the writers have given us a vital clue to help us decipher why.

3) USING MAGIC:

Uther in spirit form uses magic to harm Perceval, Gwen, Arthur and Merlin.

Uther using magic betrays one of his own cherished belief of a Camelot being free from Magic.

Uther using magic in spirit form could be dismissed as ghosts possess magical powers and hence is not an outlier. However when Balinor came in Spirit form to help Merlin he did not use magic. When Igraine came in ghost form to speak to Arthur she did not use magic.

By using magic, Uther has confirmed the subtext of what magic represents in the show.

4) WHAT MAGIC REALLY MEANS:

That Magic is a methaphor for queerness.

When Arthur confronts Uther and says Uther has been driven by hate and fear. It refers to Uther own self hate for indulging in “magic” and fear of it being found out.

That repressed side of Uther which he has indulged in and has been the source of his guilt. Igraine died because she was impregnated using magic.

It has been Uther’s justification for the persecution of “magic users”

Same as self hating closeted people always spout the most anti-LGBTQIA stuff.

Uther’s motivation for killing Arthur and reclaiming Camelot stems from his religious devotion to the idea of Camelot. Just like Abraham was willing to kill his son to please God. Uther is ready to sacrifice Arthur because he believes Camelot will be undone with Arthur’s more liberal nature. With Arthur marrying a commoner and elevating commoners to knight hood, legalizing magic could be something Arthur could consider (AND DID CONSIDER IN THE DISIR EPISODE). Arthur after all was not above using magic to get what he wanted as highlighted above

Merlin even has some very revealing words when it comes to magic:

“I was born with it”. LADY GAGA would be proud.

Uther even tries to out Merlin to Arthur before Arthur blows the horn to send him back to the spirit world.

5) MERTHUR FACTS:

Merlin tells Leon he is teaching Arthur poetry.

Gaya scienza (‘joyful, cheerful, or gay science’) was a term used by the troubadours in the twelfth to fourteenth centuries to refer to the art of poetry. In Ecce Homo Nietzsche writes that he has used the term gaya scienza here to designate the specific unity of ‘singer, knight, and free spirit’ which was characteristic of early Provencal culture…………………………….DO I NEED TO SAY MORE.

When Uther admits to trying to kill Gwen, Arthur tries to convince his father why Gwen is a worthy consort. When Uther tries to kill Merlin, Arthur straight up blows the horn without even letting Uther complete his sentence.

And I won’t even touch this one:

#arthur pendragon #bradley james #merlin bbc #merthur #uther pendragon #colin morgan #queer coding #gay subtext #merlincersei #lgbtqia shows #Youtube #merlin meta

[lenoraslament]

Lenora’s Love: A Tom Riddle Fanfiction

Chapter 8: Overprotective

Lenora is hungover with our dark lord

Lenora slept until past noon as did most of the house. She laid on her bed feeling still depleted when she awoke. If it wasn't for Lilith shoving a coffee and muffin in her face she probably would have laid in bed all day.

"Why are you so peppy?" She groaned,

Lilith smiled grabbing a small vial from her pocket, "well  not all of us dove halfway in the bottle last night".

Lenore gave her a sour face.

"I brought you a hangover elixir as well" Lilith said in a sing-songy voice.

"Who made it?" Lenore grumbled from underneath her pillow where she hid her head.

"Tom" Lilith said leafing through Lenora's dresses from her open closet, "he made you that coffee too"

"Throw it out" Lenora lifted her head up, "I'd rather suffer".

Lilith snorted, "well excuse me princess" she dumped it in her coffee anyway when Lenora looked away.

Lenora took a sip of the coffee, "you destroyed the elixir?" She asked.

"Obliterated" Lilith said with a smile.

Abraxas, she could forgive. Tom she refused to even look at. His eyes flicked over the newspaper as she came down the stairs.

She sat in the front room with the rest of the guys watching Lilith saddle next to Theo happily. Black looked out the window sullenly, he refused to meet her eye.

"Are you going to thank me for the coffee?" Tom asked as she sat in the only seat available. Unfortunately next to him.

He passed her a section the newspaper. Abraxas shot her a look and for a moment she felt defeated.

"Thank you Tom," she said quietly as she read.

They all sat for a while making conversation, remarking on articles in the paper. Abraxas got up and sat on the floor next to Lenora and they chatted about new music.

"Well" exclaimed Lilith loudly, "I only have two days here and tomorrow Theo and I have a date"

They all looked at her dumbly.

"So Nora and I are going shopping" she smiled at Lenora who raised her eyebrows. Even though she was surprisingly not hungover, she was not in the mood.

"Lovely!" She said standing up, suddenly relieved to be escaping.

They returned bags in hand. Theo sat on the porch waiting for them. He flicked his wand carrying the bags from their hands and floating them upstairs. Lilith and him embraced like two lovers separated for dynasties, making Nora look away shyly.

Wanting to give them their privacy, she began to walk backwards in the lawn.

"I'm going to go for a little walk guys" she called out.

"Are you sure?" Theo called out, "it's getting dark".

"Lumos" she said and her wand lit, "I'm fine".

She meandered to the back for the house, if she were anywhere else she may have felt frightened. Alone in the dark she walked the woods she had known even as a child. Over rocks and fallen branches until she heard the babbling of a small waterfall.

Even under the endlessness of night, her favorite spot was beautiful. Lenora found a rock and climbed onto it watching the quiet glimmers of the water

   She sat there for over an hour and began to walk along the bank. Her wand lit the area and she saw some small unusual flowers. Nora crouched and squinted, little white blooms that looked vaguely familiar.

Water hemlock she gasped. A very rare and unusual ingredient for very powerful potions.  Wasn't this just perfect? She conjured a small pouch and cut them carefully. She made certain not to touch the blooms, they were absolutely poisonous. She placed the pack in the pocket of her dress.

"Are you a fool?" The voice made her jump although she knew who it was.

"Are you my shadow?" She quipped back not in the mood.

"It's dangerous at night" Tom said, "hurry up"

He looked at her queerly sitting on the ground, "what are you doing? I didn't know you came here at night too."

Lenora have him a curious look, "how did you know I came here at all?"

Tom felt caught, for a moment he doubted his own abilities to Obliviate. He stared into Nora's eyes for a hint of the truth but there was nothing.

"Just hurry up" he said, "before I throw you in the creek".

She patted her pocket softly thinking about the possibilities it held inside.

  Tom held his arm for her and she begrudgingly took it. He held her tightly, it wasn't lost on her the change in his behavior. Why was Tom had been acting so overprotective? He always had been intertwined in her life but this new attitude was a bit much.

Read More Here:

#dark academia #dark aesthetic #friends to lovers #hp fanfic #slytherin #slytherin boys #tom riddle #toxic love #hp fandom #knights of walpurgis #death eaters #slytherin pride #slow burn #slytherin fanfiction #tomriddlelovestory #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x oc #tom riddle love story #tom riddle smut #tom riddle fanfiction #lord voldemort #voldemort #lord voldemord #harry potter fanfiction #horcrux #hp smut #hp fanfiction