#* a storm with pretty eyes and a heartbeat「mirror」

[stormfuryd]

tag drop!

* hey there demons! it’s me; ya boi「ooc」

* call to the storm「memes」

* come get y'all juice「starter call」

* ours is the fury「ic」

* a storm with pretty eyes and a heartbeat「mirror」

* why are you full of rage? because you are full of grief「study」

* rage is a promise kept「hc」

[angelbwrry]

rain,rain,go away. ft. my daddies, sukuna, toji, tengen , and choso!

cw 𐙚 nsfw link, oral from the back, ass eating, dirty talk!

You sit by the window, watching as the sky darkens and the first drops of rain begin to fall. The familiar knot of anxiety tightens in your chest, and you feel your breath quicken. Thunderstorms have always been your greatest fear, a relentless reminder of how small and powerless you feel. You try to focus on something else, but the sound of the rain hitting the roof is like a relentless drumbeat, each drop amplifying your unease.

You tell yourself it's just a storm, just water falling from the sky, but the logic doesn't help. The thunder rumbles in the distance, and you flinch, your heart racing. You can't help but think about all the times you've felt this way before, trapped and overwhelmed. The storm outside mirrors the turmoil inside you, and you feel as though you're drowning in your own fear.

You hate how the rain makes everything feel heavy and oppressive, how it seems to seep into your very bones. The flashes of lightning cast eerie shadows on the walls, making you feel even more on edge. You wish you could escape, but there's nowhere to go. The storm is everywhere, and it feels like it's never going to end. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, but the anxiety is relentless

You hear the door creak open, and you know it's him. He steps into the room quietly, his presence a stark contrast to the chaos outside. He doesn't say anything at first, just walks over to you and wraps his arms around you from behind. His touch is warm, grounding, and you can feel some of the tension start to melt away.

He whispers softly in your ear, "It's just a storm. I'm here with you." His voice is soothing, a gentle reminder that you're not alone. He knows how much you hate thunderstorms, how they bring back memories you'd rather forget. But he also knows how to help you through them.

He leads you to the couch and sits down with you, pulling you close. You can feel his heartbeat, steady and reassuring, a stark contrast to the erratic pounding of the rain against the windows. He strokes your hair gently, and you focus on the sensation, letting it pull you away from the storm outside.

“Let me ease your mind baby,”

“I love this shit,” he huffs,hands gripping your thighs holding your squirming body in place.You love when he eats your pussy from the back.His tongue dances wildly over your clit, your back arching at the sensation.His curved fingers are pressing against your cervix, a shlick shlick shlick sound filling the room as he pushes into your wet pussy.

He smirks, loving the way you writhe above him from pleasure.He knows your clit is extremely sensitive, yet he can’t stop moving his pink lips across the bud.You taste so damn good, your saltiness making his jaw clench.”S-so mm g-good d-daddy,” you whine breathlessly, acrylic nails digging into the couch.

He finds your moans pretty, they’re breathy and whiny.He loves the way you press your ass against his face desperately,and it’s hard to ignore the way his dick is throbbing against his sweatpants,”can’t wait to stretch this pretty pussy out.” he grunts.A mewl fumbles from your lips as his tongue finds your asshole,tears spilling from your cheeks.You legs quiver as pleasure rocks your mind, you’re way too drunk with the way he’s eating you to even care about the storm.

[papergirllife]

Johnny Suh

(aged up) Alpha Johnny x Omega Reader

Synopsis:

Falling for an older man is still considered acceptable in today’s society, but falling for someone who’s taken, by your own mother even, is never the cliche stories you commonly hear. You thought your little crush for your mother’s fiance was going to go away naturally, that they’ll get married and break your heart to pieces and you’d be able to move on, what you hadn’t expected was for them to break up and it was partially your fault. And when he moved away, you’d thought you'd never see him again, but your job brings you back to that sweet cinnamon scented alpha once again.

warnings: aboverse, daddy kink, breeding kink, overstimulation, unprotected sex, heats, ruts, knotting, minor angst, the mother in this story is a narcissist, absent father, fainting (briefly).

DON’T LIKE, DON’T READ, JUST SCROLL, HATE COMMENTS AND ASKS WOULD BE DELETED AND BLOCKED.

wordcount: 11.4k

a/n: so i’m back, but not entirely, mental health is still bad, but um, really wanted to write this, so if this flops i’ll be deleting this and rewriting the story to fit someone else lol, okay, bye, enjoy the story. and this is based on the song cinnamon girl by lana del rey.

Growing up, there’s one thing about your life that has been a constant and that is uncertainty, all your life, instead of having a pair of parents that diligently try their best to pave a smooth road for your life ahead like most parents, they had chose to lay out eggshells instead, their behaviour had manifested a constant spike in your heartbeat whenever you make a mistake in life, similarly to the feeling of prickling your bare feet by accidentally stepping onto a cracked eggshell on the floor, that’s how you’ve always felt ever since you were a child, every step you take, a pinch here and there that’s bound to push you over the edge one day, and that day came sooner and far more unexpected than a thunderstorm.

That thunderstorm had costed your mother’s marriage, and she never fails to remind you, how your attempt of ending your life had driven your bipolar father to the brink of his sanity, blaming your mother for her inadequacy of being a parent while he excused himself so easily just because he has ‘longer hours’ in the office.

Your father didn’t even try to fight for parental rights, he merely signed you away to your miserable mother, and that broke something inside her.

She begins taking more care in her appearance and goes out of her way to meet new people, particularly alpha men, she was particular with traditional first gender stereotypes, it didn’t really bother you, the rancid scent of some alphas could be avoided as long as you were in your room. 

Since you were growing into late teen hood, she only gives you the necessities, basic interactions, things weren’t getting better, but they weren’t getting worse, to you, that’s considered a win.

Things were looking bleak until your mom engaged an alpha with honey in his eyes.

Johnny Suh, a young man your mother had picked up from one of the many parties she had attended on behalf of work, a client of her company apparently, he lasted the longest compared to all the others, you thought he’d stay forever and become an addition to your broken family, until another storm brews right in front of your eyes. 

That day you had been sick, your mother had to rush back from a date to take you to the clinic, Johnny, being the gentleman he is, accompanies her with you, you still remember that day as clear as crystal. 

The nurse had complimented how pretty you were, and that you take after your mother, to which she was delighted of course, gushing that she gave you all the good genes, no one but this nurse thinks the two of you look alike, you have always shared more similarities with your asshole father, not enough to make you feel sickening to look in the mirror, but just enough to remind you that you’d always be associated to that asshole.

After a thorough consultation, the doctor says that you had a bad reaction to the new heat suppressants your mother had switched to for a lower price. 

“You better not fail your next driving test the next time around, or else you wouldn’t be able to get yourself to the clinic for heaven’s sake, and why are you always so sensitive to medicine? Can’t you be normal for once? Why do you have to be a freak?” your mother rambled all the way to Johnny’s car.

You had kept your silence, you weren’t feeling well anyways, you don’t have any energy left to argue with her, but instead, someone speaks up for you.

“Hey, why are you so harsh on her?” Johnny asks, at first he dismissed your mother’s odd alter ego towards you as a culture difference, since his own parents have migrated to the states so many years, he had always been told parents elsewhere are harsher towards their kids, but this feels like a personal insult towards you, and he might be 10 years younger than your mother, but not to the point of having such different views on how to children should be treated.

“She’s always been such a handful, all my friends’ daughters are so much more mature than her, they help clean the house, cook, always have good grades, not a burden like you are!” your mother emphasises on the last part by craning her neck to look at you with her hideous eyes, she’s not ugly at all, maybe average if you’re being mean, but she is horrid in your eyes, which is why you never understood why Johnny, a successful man at the ripe age of 28 would ever settle for a single mother omega with the worst mood swings ever.

“Why are you speaking to your daughter like this? She’s your own flesh and blood, you never told me there was such a huge riff between the two of you,” Johnny says, exasperated, oh there’s so much he doesn’t know, this is merely the surface.

She mumbles something under her breath that you didn’t quite catch, not that you bother to listen, you just want to lock yourself up in the safety of your room.

After a week from that day, your mother comes home with a slam of the door as tears stream down her face.

“This is all your fault!” she screams with a weak shove of your shoulder before she, surprisingly, retreats to her room. Later you find out why, because of the absence of the 6 foot tall handsome man who hasn’t dropped by for dinner for days now.

You thought you’d never see him again until you see his car waiting for you one day after you finish your college entrance examination.

“Johnny?” you call out, the handsome man has grown out his hair now, a beautiful lock falls right above his right brow, giving him an even more mature look, you’d always thought he was baby faced for a 28 year old man, but now he finally looks his age, guess this what people call a ‘break up glow up’.

“Hey, just thought I’d drop by to say congratulations, and maybe buy you a meal, you must’ve worked really hard these past few months,” Johnny offers, and who are you to reject him when you’re sick of having the same food your mom cooks. 

“Did you get back with my mother?” you ask when you settle down in a fancy restaurant, your uniform looks cheap against the pretty red velvet walls, you note, even the waiters had judged when you walked in.

“Is your mother here?” Johnny asks, looking up from the menu, seemingly having decided what he’s having because he’s flagging down a waiter.

Johnny orders for the both of you, you had only mentioned that you’ll probably try the pasta you want once, and he never asked you to repeat yourself nor asked you to state your order to the waiter yourself, but he waits to see if he got it right, or if you’d like to order more, to which you quickly shook your head no, scared that he just might order more. Now you know why your mother was so heartbroken, you’d cry if you lose an alpha this attentive too.

You always had an odd sense of comfort when Johnny’s around, his scent was never overbearing, he has never once bossed you or your mother around just because he’s an alpha, he has been so respectful towards you, unlike some of the creepy alphas your mother brought back.

Just being in his presence again simmers down your post exam anxiety and general anxiety, you didn’t know Johnny's departure had such an impact on you until seeing him again today, it’s like your omega feels at home again.

The two of you talked with a newfound freedom, away from your mother’s watchful eyes. She never likes it when her boyfriends give you more attention, she’s always seen you as her competition.

Johnny asks about your ideas on how your future might look while he updates you on how he took the leap to establish his own company with the support of his best friends that you heard him speak about to your mother.

But everything good comes to an end, and yours come in the form of your lunch with Johnny ending, but the big blow is what he tells you right after reaching your neighbourhood.

“My new office is in Seoul, I’ll be moving tomorrow,” Johnny suddenly confesses.

“What? You’re leaving? Again?” you ask, a lump building in your throat.

Johnny winces at the wording, he thinks you know the relationship was toxic, how he lets your mother have her way in everything, but you’re just 18, a young girl who’s hurt time after time.

“I’m sorry, this company…has been my dream, and your mother and I, we’d never get back together, I don’t think we were ever compatible, I only stayed because…, nevermind, here, this is for you,” Johnny says, opening the glove box in front of you, passing you a little cardholder wallet.

“My business card is there, it has my office address as well as  my number, personal and office, there’s also some gift cards there, Jo Malone, Sephora, I know you love perfumes and make up, get yourself something nice, a small gift from me,” Johnny says.

You don’t know when you started tearing up, but you felt Johnny use the expensive material of his sleeve to wipe away your salty tears.

“It’s going to be okay, just one more year, and you’d be able to move away from your mother, one more year and you won’t be binded to her legally anymore,” Johnny reassures, but that’s not what you’re sad for, you’re sad that Johnny’s leaving again, and so far away from Busan too, there’s no way you’d be able to leave the state without your mother knowing.

“Does that mean I could come find you in a year’s time?” you sputter out, the words taste bitter on your tongue.

Johnny freezes in his spot, the feeling of being on the borderline, he’s an adult, and an alpha more so, it’s not appropriate for an omega this young to be staying with him, yes you’re legal in terms of age, but it feels wrong still, but Johnny looks at you, he really looks at you this time, and he realises how you’ve grown into a beautiful young woman, even with tear streaks and a sour pear scent that makes him miss the soft sweet scent of pears in spring, he still thinks you’re absolutely ethereal in every way.

“Okay, I’ll see you in a year’s time if you don’t change your mind,” Johnny says as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, he can’t have your pretty locks soaked in your own tears, seeing you cry and being the reason of your sadness already has his alpha howling in protest.

“Really?” you ask him once more, thinking you heard him wrongly, that your delusional mind had made things up for you.

“Yes, I promise.”

There’s so many things you want to say to him, but it’s better to keep it to yourself, you’ll just hurt yourself if you don’t.

So many things have changed since that fateful day, you no longer stay with your mother, instead, you’re staying with your rich best friend who has an apartment all to herself after her ex moved out.

You barely talk to your mother these days, merely giving an update or two for her every few weeks, at first she was ballistic when you said you were going to move out, but when you told her that Hyuna wasn’t charging you rent, she was ecstatic to help you move out of her humble abode. 

You haven’t thought of looking for Johnny until you realise the modelling agency you’re working for expanded, and so now they’re planning on taking on bigger jobs by moving their HQ to Seoul, which means you need to pack up and find a place in a city you barely know.

“Still looking for somewhere to stay?” Hyuna asks, bringing over a mug of wine for you, she’s always been a day drinker, a habit she’s passed on to you.

“Yup,” you say after taking a sip, just what you needed, “thanks for this, it’ll be perfect for my nap when it hits,” you joke truthfully.

“You’re still having issues sleeping?” Hyuna asks, her brows furrowed in worry.

“It’s been a long time now, don’t act all surprised, it’s not going to go away,” you say, deciding to shut your laptop after bookmarking a few places, still a bit over budget, but maybe if you took on more jobs, you’d be able to make ends meet, and maybe no more indulging yourself in expensive food and groceries like you do now, hopefully you’d still have enough for the heating when days get colder.

“The cinnamon candles don’t work?” Hyuna asks, looking at the direction of your room, probably trying to catch a whiff of how strong the scent is.

“It helps, but it takes me forever to fall asleep, but at least I can sleep,” you say, recalling the gruelling times when you couldn’t sleep at all.

“If it’s this bad, it means what you had for him is more than a mere crush-

“He didn’t even say anything, it’s just me, Hyuna, stop giving me false hope, he only cared for me out of pity, we wouldn’t even have met if it wasn’t for my mom,” you defend yourself, it’s true, if he felt the same, he’d speak up, maybe called you or something, your mother probably gave him your number before, Johnny’s a straightforward man.

“Maybe he wasn’t sure of how he feels, how do you know he’s not suffering just like you are if you’re not willing to even give him a call, maybe you could stay with him for a few months before you secure your own place, just to confirm if what you’re feeling is truly just a fickle crush, please,” Hyuna pleads.

“I’ll think about it after my nap,” you say dismissively, leaving your bestie in the living room, she’s going to miss your stubborn ass when you’re gone, but you’ll probably be in better hands if you’re nearer to Johnny.

You don’t know how’d you get here, at Johnny’s doorstep of his big ass house in Gangnam, standing in between two expensive cars.

You had taken up Hyuna’s advice to contact your ‘almost stepfather’. 

When you called him, he was surprised to say the least, he hadn't heard from you for three years, he thought you had moved on in life, leaving him as merely a closed chapter.

The phone call had been brief, just a quick congratulations and brief updates before Johnny had to dash off to attend a meeting.

Needless to say, Johnny has been excited for your arrival, he hasn’t stopped wondering how you were since the day he left Busan, he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s missed caring for you while he was with your mother, but ever since that day, he’s had this emptiness in his chest, and just by knowing he’s seeing you soon has relieved this sense of emptiness that was once a hole in his chest.

You finally plucked up the courage to ring the doorbell, quickly stepping aside when you caught whiff of the familiar scent of cinnamon. 

Before you know it, you’re being greeted by the familiar alpha, he’s buffed up since the last time you’ve seen, time isn’t an issue for Johnny when he ages like fine wine.

“Hey, come on in,” Johnny says after getting over the initial shock of how much you’ve grown, instead of the little girl that her mother picks fights with, now the little girl standing before him has grown into a beautiful young lady.

Johnny has a new problem now that the emptiness is gone, and it comes in the form of that emptiness being overfilled.

Your scent, it’s different from how he remembered it to be, yes it’s still has the major notes of pear, but he remembers picking it up notes of your mother’s rose scent, which isn’t surprising since sometimes a mother’s scent lingers onto their children, especially if they’re both omegas, but now that you haven’t lived with your mother for so long, he realised that the scent lingered due to proximity, not biology, and it has him reeling.

He thought his desire to care for you is due to the fact that he once had love for your mother, but now that he’s living with you, he realises that the scent of ripe pears was also lingering on your mother just as her scent lingered on you, and now he’s questioning whether he was initially attracted to your mother because of her own scent or the soft but empowering scent of pears.

“Johnny?” 

“Yes?” Fuck, he should stop having these stupid questions filling his mind, he isn’t attracted to you, maybe he should get laid soon, maybe it’s purely an instinct thing.

“I was asking you if you could turn up the heating a bit? My body isn’t as warm as an alpha’s” you remind him, but just then a sweater on the sofa catches your attention, “Oh wait, I could just borrow this, you don’t mind right? If not I’ll head up to unpack,” you say, to which Johnny nods, he forgot to even ask you if you wanted to eat anything after your long journey.

The sight of you drowning in his clothes, god, you’re going to be the death of him.

A few days later, after having gotten used to your new living environment, and adjusted to your newfound proper sleeping schedule, to Hyuna’s happiness and her constant ‘I told you sos’, you decided to cook Johnny dinner as the many forms of 'thank yous’ you’ll be giving him.

You decided to cook him a simple pasta to start off, deciding to make your own pesto sauce from scratch, which is why the two of you are spending your Sunday morning at a supermarket, browsing through the many aisles after deciding to splurge on a block of aged parmesan cheese.

You walk towards a pile of fresh basil, but frown when you see the ‘organic’ tag, these are always unnecessarily expensive, so you put the pack of basil down even though the organic ones look a lot fresher.

“Why are you putting them down? They’re a lot fresher than the brand you’re looking at now,” Johnny says before picking up the basil you had discarded.

“Oh, just thought those were a bit too pricey,” you say offhandedly. 

“I’m paying, no worries, you don’t have to fret over these miniscule things when you’re with me,” Johnny says with a comforting pat on your head, god, if only he knows what those words do to you, you think to yourself before willing your emotions to be stable, he can’t pick up the spike in your scent, or he’d think you’re a freak.

“But I’m buying today, remember?” you say reminding Johnny of your promise of thanking him for his generosity of letting you stay in his home.

“You said you’d cook as a form of thank you, not buying the groceries and cook,” Johnny says before he places the pack of basil in the cart, “you don’t have to worry about price tags when you’re with me,” Johnny promises before walking ahead, looking back to see you following him with a huff, not used to walking about with someone with such long legs.

“Johnny? Where’s the blender you used this morning for your breakfast shake?” you ask, looking around the expanse of his large kitchen.

“It’s in the third upper shelf from the left,” he says from the couch, apparently he’s checking his emails despite saying he ended work at 6 not too long ago.

You shout out a quick thank you before you follow his directions, opening the cabinet door, you’re quick to recognise the device, standing on your tippy toes to retrieve the blender, you’re surprised by how heavy it is, and when you felt a slight wobble, you suddenly felt a warmth body pressed up behind you as sturdy hands came up to hold onto the blender supporting your smaller hand.

“Careful, this thing’s heavy at the top too, I don’t know why the cover’s so thick,” Johnny jokes as he pulls away with the blender in hand, immediately setting it up for you to use.

“Thanks, Johnny,” you say, glad that he was there, or you’d be cleaning up broken glass now.

“No problem, let me know if you need anything else from the upper cabinets,” Johnny says, smiling as he ruffles your hair before walking away to let you cook, leaving you with butterflies in your tummy.

“Does it taste good?” you ask after tasting a forkful of pesto pasta, you think it’s okay, maybe a little over for the cheese, but Johnny loves cheese, so you purposely incorporated more cheese.

“Tastes great, you’re really good at this, where did you learn all this from?” Johnny asks with a surprised but satisfied smile on his face, he knows you didn’t learn this from your mother, she was a more eastern food type of person.

“Just picked it up from Youtube shorts, those pasta videos are all over my explore page,” you explain with a bashful smile as you try to keep your emotions in check, you’ll die from embarrassment if he picks up your scent getting sweeter.

“Just from a quick short clip? What a smart girl you are,” Johnny compliments, he couldn’t help it, your mother had always complained about you being dumb and clumsy, always never getting top grades, but here you are, learning a quick recipe from a 30 second clip.

Your breath gets caught at the compliment, fuck, your scent definitely changed, you can feel the fuzzy feeling in your tummy again.

“It’s nothing complicated, really, it’s just a simple recipe, it’s no biggie,” you deflect, not used to being complimented this way.

“No, none of that down playing shit, take the compliment as it is, you watched a short clip of a recipe and you recreated it, that’s an achievement,” Johnny says firmly, but with no ill intent, he genuinely doesn’t want you to put yourself down anymore, he knows your mother had conditioned you to look at yourself in a shitty manner, but he’s going to change that.

You nod, mumbling another quick thank you before you go back to eating, feeling the heat behind your ears still.

Johnny isn’t dumb, he picked up on your spike in scent, and the way you look at him, he just wants to stare back into those pretty eyes of yours when he feels them trained on him.

At first it was tolerable, but as the days go by and the weather gets warmer, he sees you walking the house in nothing but shorts and a tee, and he swears you’re not wearing a bra underneath if he looks a bit longer.

Johnny is now out for a long awaited boys’ night with Yuta and Mark at Yuta’s bachelor pad. 

“I thought the biggest concern would be that you can’t bring back hot omegas to your place, but you actually have a hot omega in your house, and you’re not going to do anything?” Yuta asked in disbelief.

Fuck, Johnny shouldn’t have shown them your socials, now they’re spewing bullshit instead of helping him.

“Dude, that’s his step daughter, it feels so weird,” Mark says with a huge side eye towards Yuta, which was rather common, since Yuta is the alpha of every omega’s nightmare, unless they’re into freaky shit that is.

“Thank you, Mark, finally someone who sees the logic in this situation,” Johnny said, his tone convincing, but not convincing enough to forget about the way your shorts fit around your bubble butt.

“Johnny didn’t even marry that bitch, and I know you’re a beta, Mark, but can’t you pick up how sweet she is just from Johnny’s clothes, look, man, if you’re not gonna make a move to tap that, I’ll gladly-

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Johnny said with a growl.

Yuta holds his hands up defensively, a smug expression on his face.

“No matter how much you lie to yourself, your alpha wants her, and recognises the connection the two of you share, you can't run away from that, and it's not like you can kick her out now that you offered to let her stay long term," Yuta deduced with a tilt of his head, daring Johnny to come up with a logical retort.

But the tallest amongst them goes quiet, mulling over his choices.

"Even if it's not Yuta hyung, some other alpha's going to be interested in her some day, hyung," Mark reminds Johnny, "and would you be able to stand aside and let someone love her instead of you?" 

Johnny's never thought of it that way, in some twisted way, he had always thought you were his little girl, too young to be courted by alphas, but in reality, you're a grown woman now, even if he thinks he's too old for you, other alphas his age aren't going to think that, maybe not even you, you probably see Johnny less of a father figure than what he assumed.

"He's finally using that brain of his," Yuta says on the side to Mark, the two conversing among themselves while they let their friend gather his thoughts.

"How about this," Mark suddenly speaks up, "you could spend some time away from her to clear your mind, if you really miss her during your time away from each other…then you have your answer, dude," Mark suggests, looking at Yuta for affirmation.

"I mean that could work," Yuta says uncertainly, it probably is going to work, although with added risks that he won't be mentioning, he doesn't need Johnny's angry side out with a few drinks in. 

"What am I going to say? Where am I going to stay?" Johnny asks, still doubting that this is a good idea, would you be fine with staying all by yourself? You haven't done that before, he thinks, but on the other hand, your mother was very much an absent parent.

"You could crash at my place, man, what could go wrong? I'll clean up the guest room for you and it'll be just like home," Mark suggests, immediately going to his phone to make a list of things to buy, like toilet paper and booze, he misses having sleepovers with his bro, and this is the perfect opportunity to make up for loss time.

"I'm leaving for a month for a business trip," Johnny tells you in the midst of having dinner together at this Japanese restaurant you had suggested, the fresh prawn tempura doesn't taste as nice anymore, now that he's bringing this up. 

"Oh, that's abrupt, where to?" you ask, hoping you don't look visibly upset, but Johnny could tell from your crestfallen eyes, he could feel his own alpha struggling to take over and comfort you, yeah, he really needs time away from you if his alpha is acting this way.

"Back to Busan, my business partners are debating on opening a headquarters there, just to make things easier on the management and shipping side of things," Johnny lies, he already has a HQ in Busan, but he doesn't oversee it, god forbid he runs into your mother after everything.

"Oh, okay, do you need me to do anything with the house while you're gone other than watering the plants?" you ask, taking a sip of your green tea to swallow down your nerves, what if he sees her again?

"No, just be there to look over the weekly maids and everything would be fine," Johnny says with a sense of finality, for him, not you, because after telling you, there's no backing out, he's going to go through this like the man he is.

Everything was fine until it wasn't, and it started off with an ache in his head, it wasn't extremely painful, but it was consistent enough for him to down an advil every 12 hours.

He'd been drowning himself in work and the gym and brushed it off as a sign of fatigue, but when the headache shows no sign of fading even on a long weekend, he starts to worry, and then Mark drops another bomb on him. 

"Dude, you’re starting to smell different, is your rut starting soon?" 

Johnny freezes up from his position on the couch, the morning news talking about some light earthquake that happened last night, usually he'd be very focused on news like this, but his mind is now blank.

"Dude you alright? That headache you keep talking about, it's probably your rut-

"But it can't be, my rut isn't due for another 2 months," Johnny says in disbelief, quickly checking his calendar, just to double check.

"I don't know, man, but that's how you smelled like when you start your pre rut symptoms, maybe go check it out at the doctor's?" Mark suggests, stealing the bag of chips Johnny opened on the coffee table, happily munching away while his friend quickly books a doctor's appointment.

It's probably nothing, Johnny assures himself, he's been eating well, resting well, it's probably just a flu or something, he brushes off.

"Mr Suh, I fear that there are a few questions I need to ask you in regards to your condition," Doctor Park asks, his face a bit grim, if Johnny's getting some death disease then he's booking a flight to see the aurora lights, stat, there's no way he's going down without doing all the wild shit on his bucket list.

"Am I dying, doc?" Johnny asks, preparing himself for the worst, maybe stage 4 cancer, maybe some incurable shit that's passed down from the family that miraculously skipped his grandparents and parents.

"No, Mr Suh, I'm afraid you had unknowingly imprinted on someone, which is why I'm going to ask you now, are you seeing someone at the moment?" Doctor Park asks.

"No, not at all," Johnny replies, a half truth, since you're on his mind all the time.

"Then are you perhaps interested in someone? And you see that someone quite often?" the doctor asks, sceptical that an alpha this attractive is single, he could hear the nurses gushing about his patient when he walked in, even if he was blind he'd know this young man is considered attractive.

"Well, there is someone I'm somewhat attracted to, but I don't think to the point where I'd unknowingly imprint on them? And what does this have to do with my upcoming rut?" Johnny asks, still in denial that he actually imprinted on you, maybe the doctor just misdiagnosed him. 

"Based on the information you've given me, you're having constant headaches, no appetite, and an upcoming early rut? Those are all symptoms of mate withdrawal, or in your case, potential mate withdrawal," Doctor Park says with a slight judgement in his voice.

"Is this…permanent?" Johnny asks, he's never been scared of things, but right now, he feels like he's a kid on a roller coaster again.

"There's a procedure to remove the imprint, however it'll be very painful, and I suggest you quickly check on the person you imprinted on, they might be having these symptoms as well, however usually the one that imprints feels it first, so you still have some time to figure things out, now excuse me while I go sort of your medication," the doctor says before leaving Johnny in the room alone.

Johnny quickly makes a quick search on where to get imprint removal in the country, just in case, and he curses when he sees the many warnings and symptoms of the removal treatment.

Doctor Park comes back in with a bag of medication, he pulls them out one by one.

"The violet pills are to numb the imprint in general, blue for your headaches, twice a day, green for your appetite loss, and red is to defer your rut if you wish to do so, however I don't suggest you taking too many of these as it worsens the effects of your actual rut when the medication can no longer withstand your rut hormones, take all of these after meals, and get sufficient rest, and please think this through as soon as possible," Doctor Park says before dismissing him for his next patient.

"So… what did the doctor say, man, you don't look too happy, but at least you look like you got more life in your face now," Mark says, gesturing at Johnny's face that is now less pale than when he left this morning.

"Yeah, I took some medicine, that's why, and I also found out that I imprinted on her," Johnny spilled, which earned the biggest and fruitiest gasps that he only hears from his beta friend.

"I'm sorry? Imprinted? Like for real dude? How did that happen?" Mark was in shock, but he was also curious, he's heard of imprints, but they rarely happen, especially with the dating culture nowadays.

"Not sure, the only good news is that I'm the one that imprinted on her, so I still have some time to think this through," Johnny says, just a heads up to Mark that he won't be rushing to pack his bags and move out of his home.

"Wouldn't she be affected also? And, what's there to think through? You wanna get it removed? That shit stings like a bitch from what I heard, even if you're willing to remove the imprint, there's no telling she would, and what if she falls sick while you're here-

"Stop, I just need a few more days, then I'll be out of your hair," Johnny says dismissively, heading back to his room for some peace of mind.

"Should we update Yuta on this?" 

"Suit yourself, I won't change my mind regardless," Johnny says before shutting his door, ready for a long night's sleep.

Johnny knows you're fine, he's been staying up to date with you by asking you to water his plants everyday, today he even went as far as asking about your personal health, and true to the doctor's words, you haven't been feeling any withdrawal symptoms yet, and because of this, Johnny’s glad he bit the bullet and went for the check up early.

Anxious, that's what Johnny felt the last few days, the dismissive front he had masked on days ago now crumbling as he tossed and turned in his bed.

Johnny had felt tired after work today, which was odd, because he had purposely made himself a coffee before he left work to go to his scheduled workout at the gym, however, he had felt drained once he left the parking bay, which is why he ate a quick dinner of cup noodles and slept.

He had slept peacefully the first two hours, but after he woke up to go to the bathroom, sleep just couldn't seem to come back to him. 

The sleep leaves Johnny as the prickling in his head grows, but he's taken his pills, why is he still reacting to the withdrawal symptoms?

Then he feels it, that sinking feeling in his stomach, he immediately hops out of bed, grabbing his wallet and car keys before dashing out of the door, a confused Mark who was watching a basketball game jolts at the harsh opening of his bedroom door.

"What's the problem, man? It's midnight, where are you going?" Mark asks, but nonetheless, he turns off the telly, following behind Johnny, he's never seen Johnny this anxious, he's not gonna leave him be at a time like this.

"I think something happened at home, but I don't know what, I need to check up on her," Johnny replies as he frantically watches the panel counting down to the car park levels.

"I'll go with you, it's late and if you need help, I'll be there," Mark offers, not questioning how true Johnny's hunch is.

It was quiet when he stepped into his home, but that wasn't out of the ordinary for you, you're not the type to stay up watching TV, but the weird thing is that there wasn't a single light on in the living area, you'd always leave a light on at night. 

Then Johnny noticed how faint your scent was, you didn't tell him you'd be staying anywhere else tonight, but it smells like you haven't been here for half a day at least.

Johnny quickly traces your scent to your room, he opens the door, and the sight of you lying on the desk with your head down sends a chill down his spine, yes you might have fallen asleep, but you've told him multiple times that you can only sleep on a bed.

So he tries to shake you awake, but to no avail.

Mark was calling the ambulance before Johnny even asked him to, an unconscious omega is nothing to joke about.

Then everything was a blur, Mark drove Johnny's car while he sat in the ambulance with you, holding onto your hand as the medics asked him basic questions.

Johnny met up with Mark in the emergency area where he was ushered beyond the curtains due to your privacy.

"What did the doctor say?" 

"Her life isn't in any danger, but they need to run more tests to confirm that it is imprint withdrawal symptoms," Johnny says, still focused on where you were wheeled in.

Then the doctor comes out, a stoic expression on his face.

"As you had predicted, Mr Suh, she is indeed going through withdrawal symptoms, so she's going to be hooked onto some drips and be given some medicine, nothing to worry about, however, please step up as a mate and actually be there for her," the doctor says with a slight edge to his tone.

"Yes, doctor," Johnny said, scratching the back of his head, embarrassed that as a man in his thirties is still struggling with professing his feelings.

Johnny watches your pale face, he did this, he’s to blame.

“Mr Suh, I’m sorry, but visiting hours are going to end soon,” the doctor informs.

“I wish to stay overnight to look after her,” Johnny says, as he texts Mark to find your essentials, thick sweaters and sweatpants, any skincare you have laying around.

“My apologies, Mr Suh, but you’re only eligible to sleepover if you book the VIP room where a proper bed is prepared for you, it’s company policy,” of course they got this greedy policy.

“Just charge it on my tab, get her the VIP room, immediately,” Johnny says, standing up from the chair he’d thought he’d be hunched over sleeping in.

“Gladly, Mr Suh, Nurse Park, please add Mr Suh into the overnight list and fetch your team to have the patient shifted.”

Johnny sighs as he follows you, keeping a keen eye when the team of nurses wheel you to your new room.

Marks drop by your things and he gets to work, cleaning your face with a towel and using the products that he recognises its uses of, he’s not a pro, but he does have a skincare routine himself too. Then, he tucks you in bed, pulling the blanket as high as your chin, knowing that you get cold easily.

Then Johnny slips off into slumber on the bed next to yours, fatigue consuming him after the stressful hour he had, but most importantly, sleep came to him because you’re finally in his presence again.

The first thing that you saw was how obnoxiously white the ceiling was, you’re quite fucking sure you had told Johnny to help you colour the ceiling black ages ago when you first moved in, wait, what happened to the silk sheets Johnny had splurged on you? Why are the sheets so rough against your skin?

You jolted up when you felt the tug of something connected to your arm, your eyes going as wide as saucers when you see that you’re currently in a hospital room, at first you thought you were kidnapped for your organs or whatever, until your nose picked up on the familiar sweet scent of cinnamon, you averted your gaze to the bed beside yours, seeing the view of Johnny’s back. 

You carefully walked to him, cursing silently at the IV drip attached to you.

“Johnny,” you called to him, shaking him slightly, his contracting muscles at his shoulders alerting you that he’s waking up.

“Sweetheart? Why are you up? Let me get the doctor,” Johnny says urgently, scrambling up from bed.

“Wait, Johnny, why am I in the hospital? How did I end up here?” you ask, seeking answers in those panic stricken honey brown eyes that usually exude confidence. 

“I���,” Johnny looks so lost at words at that moment, his entire confident businessman front is nowhere to be seen, he shakes his head, seemingly trying to get his composure together.

“It’s okay, you can take your time,” you reassure, sitting down beside him on the squeaky bed, an encouraging smile on your lips.

“I imprinted on you and didn’t know what to do, so I lied about going on a business trip to sort out my thoughts, I didn’t know you’d be affected by the withdrawal symptoms so quickly, I shouldn’t have trusted the doctor’s prediction, I should’ve consulted you, I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I put your life in danger even though I promised you I’d do anything to protect you,” Johnny confesses, his shoulders sagging after he’s spilled the entire story, his chest heaving as he struggles not to let his tears fall, he had put you in danger, he doesn’t deserve to be your alpha, he should’ve signed up for the imprint removal as soon as possible back then.

“Hey, Johnny, it’s alright, we all need time to think things through, I’m alive, I might’ve done the same in your footsteps, so don’t beat yourself over it,” you say, mind drifting to all the times you had felt very tired or had zero appetite for no particular reason, glad that you finally found the source of all your problems, all because of this cute alpha in front of you whose scent is so sour, 

“If it makes you feel any better, I had the ulterior motive of wanting us to become something more too, when you were away, I thought you’d left me alone for good, so please don't even think about removing our imprint, please,” you plead, you sound a bit pathetic, if you’re honest,  begging for a man to stay, but you don’t want his heart constantly out the door while his body hangs around, you went through that with your mother, you don’t want to go through that with Johnny as well, and you think Johnny understands what you mean too, because he releases calming pheromones, pulling you into his embrace.

“I’m not going anywhere you don’t want me to be, sweetheart, never,” Johnny promises you. 

You bury yourself impossibly closer, but a crackling sound in his pocket pulls you out of your moment with Johnny.

“What’s that?” you ask, looking at Johnny for answers, watching him dig through his pocket, a packet of medicine is brought out. 

“I had to take them while I was away from you, to deal with the side effects of imprint withdrawal from you,” Johnny explains.

“You won’t be needing them anymore then,” you say, ready to go home with your alpha.

Your relationship with Johnny has progressed smoothly, albeit rather slow, what you appreciate though, is that Johnny is a traditional man, going through the process of courting you, buying you flowers whenever he needs to leave for the office, cooking you food, buying you gifts once in a while, from simple things like a box of macarons to expensive jewellery.

What you didn’t expect was to find another package of medicine, when you decided to put his coat into the dryer, a packet of red pills that you recognised from a month ago.

“Johnny!” you called out to the alpha sitting on the couch, the evening news on.

“Why are you still taking these?” you ask, holding up the packet of visible red pills in your hand.

Conflict draws upon Johnny’s face, a frown between the creases of his brows.

“I didn’t want to let you know, but my rut is coming soon, so I’ve been delaying it as long as I can, I didn’t know if you’d like to, or if you’re ready for it, I’m actually prepared to spend it alone, I just didn’t know how to tell you-

“I’d love to spend your rut with you, so you won’t be needing these anymore,” you say, dumping the pills into a nearby trash bin,

“No! Wait-

“Taking suppressants are bad for you, Johnny-

“But you might not be ready, have you ever spent a rut with an alpha?” Johnny asks, but his wolf side is gnawing at his chest at the thought of its omega being with another alpha.

“I haven’t, but my heat is approaching too, and I don’t wish to spend it locked in my room anymore,” you cringe thinking about how your mother had warned you when you first presented that you should never ever sleep with anyone until you’re legally binded to one another, and that you should just suffer through your heats like a ‘righteous’ omega.

“Your heat is approaching soon too? Do you want to spend it at home or would you want us to go to heat hotels?” Johnny asks, but all you could focus on was the wording ‘us’. 

“At home would be great, I want to nest a bit longer after my heat breaks,” you explain.

“Okay, we’ll go through this together,” your alpha reassures you.

The sexual tension between the two of you was so thick that a knife would've sliced through it, your approaching heat meant that your body temperature was rising steadily, that meant you had switched out your comfy sweat sets for cropped tees and cute house shorts, and the new expanse of exposed skin has Johnny struggling to concentrate on his work whenever he takes his work to the living room for a change of environment.

“Should he engage with you before your heat hits or should he wait and continue earning your validation? 

You probably don’t have any extreme standards towards Johnny, but he has expectations for himself, like just the other day, he took you to a Japanese omakase, it was expensive, but your fascination towards the chef’s skill was worth every penny.

Other than that, he’s bought you flowers almost everyday, Mark had called him old schooled, courting you like what an alpha would do back in the 70s.

Johnny doesn’t really see this as a form of courting, he’s only giving you what you weren’t allowed to access in life, she was a selfish woman, she’d spent good money on a car before spending money on your needs. He recalls how  you used to eat more on days where Johnny took both you and your mother out for dates, when he had asked you back then when your mother had walked away to the loo, that you don’t usually get to eat food this good, or this plenty when it was only the two of you. 

Johnny curses to himself when he thinks of it, he should’ve realised this sooner, how your mother was treating you with such blatant dislike, he thought your relationship was rocky, he hadn’t known or expected that you were abused and neglected by her all along.

“What’s with the frown on your face, love?” you ask when you came round after fetching yourself a glass of water, taking a seat next to the warm alpha, you’re rather warm these days, which is why you’ve been layering less, so that you could still cuddle Johnny comfortably. 

“Nothing, was wondering where you were at,” Johnny says, he doesn’t want to bring it up, you always have melancholy swimming in your eyes whenever he mentions your excuse of a mother, it’s better to not mention the past now that you’re having a good day.

“Corny alpha,” you tease, snuggling to his side, purring when his scent begins to envelope the two of you, you had specifically  told Johnny that the scent of cinnamon calms you down, that you love smelling like him, consenting yourself to be scented by him at any opportunity. 

“It’s work, isn’t it? Let’s take a break, how about a nap?” you suggest with an excited smile, you love being cuddled to sleep, his scent is a remedy for your insomnia.

“You should’ve become a negotiator,” Johnny says as he lifts you up in his arms, earning a squeal from you. 

“I could’ve walked myself, you know,” you say breathlessly in between giggles, being carried by Johnny always makes you giddy, like you were a child all over again.

“What’s the fun in that?” Johnny retorts as he lays you down gently on his bed, and instantly his arms come circling your waist once more, Johnny can’t describe it, but whenever he pulls you into his embrace, his alpha feels like it’s coming home, having memorised your every touch, and when your smile falls a little, his alpha is clawing at his chest to prod why.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Johnny asks, his hand reaching up to cradle your cheek.

“Can I ask you something Johnny?” that question worries Johnny, but he nods regardless, he promised to himself he’d face whatever problems the two of you may come across.

“What did you see in her back then? And what do you see in me? I don’t look anything like her,” you add on, choosing to be honest with him with your insecurities, your physical features have always taken after your father, or your male producer, since that’s all he’s done for you.

Johnny stills, he didn’t expect you to ask anything like that, and he sighs, knowing that he’d have to come clean to you sooner or later.

“I was attracted to the faint scent of pears mixed with roses when I first bumped into your mother, it was so calming to me, and at that time I guess I was young, and I wanted someone who was serious with me I guess, and maybe partly because it was kinda cool, bragging to my friends that I bagged myself a milf, it was just lots of bad decisions, really, especially when I realised that the scent I found comforting didn’t even belong to the person I was seeing, and I never thought you looked like your mother, she is her own beauty, and you are your own,” Johnny confesses and reassures, unknowingly, he’s breathing in your scent now, to calm his nerves.

“All of us make mistakes, Johnny, I’m just glad you don’t see me as an extension of her, that worried me the most to be honest,” you say truthfully, “that was my biggest worry.”

“You have nothing to worry about, if you do, that means I’m fucking something up,” Johnny jokes, but with a full sense of seriousness to it, and he looks into your eyes, trying his best to convey the message that this is serious, that you’re everything to him. 

“Stop looking at me like that, go to sleep, you need it,” you say, laying your head on Johnny’s pillow and his shoulder, the support your neck needed after a day of editing videos.

“I think you needed this nap more than me,” Johnny notes with a teasing tone, but nonetheless, does as you’re told, closing his eyes to drift off to peaceful slumber with you.

When Johnny wakes up, he feels your body next to his, impossibly close, and also alarmingly hot, he jerks awake, seeing your forehead beaded with sweat, immediately he knew your heat has approached, or is coming soon, he could also feel his rut arriving, having triggered by your heat, he concludes when he feels the prickly feeling he gets at the back of his neck, a sign of his upcoming rut.

Should he wake you up? You never enjoy being woken up for no reason, but he could smell your scent sweeten, meaning that you’re probably getting wet by whatever dream you’re having.

Johnny made up his mind to wake you up at half past six, then you’d at least have two hours of sleep, for now, he’s going to make some porridge in his rice cooker, so you’d have some light food to have if your heat is put on a pause, Johnny’s never been so glad for having a stocked up fridge more than now, he has to move quick, he doesn’t want you, or more so, your omega in distress if you find him gone from the bed.

Johnny finishes up the last step of his mother’s old recipe before he dashes back into his room, you were still sleeping, rolling around in the pile of clothes Johnny had placed surrounding you, a makeshift nest ro help you sleep better, and it worked, seeing how you’re sweating a bit less, your face a bit less tensed.

Johnny looks at the time on the clock, you’ve been sleeping for almost three hours now, it’s time to wake you up if he wants to make it on time for dinner to be done.

“Hey, baby, time to wake up, you’ve been sleeping for a long time amd, don’t panic, but I think your heat is here, do you still want me around? If not I could probably look for a heat hotel for myself,” Johnny reassures, even though you’ve told him many times that you’re perfectly fine with spending your heat and rut together.

“I wouldn’t want to spend it any other way, Johnny,” you say with utmost confidence, knowing that if you didn’t Johnny’s going to overthink himself not to.

“Okay,” Johnny replied with a shaky breath, he’s never been nervous to sleep with an omega, but this is you, the person that matters most in his life, it’s expected of him to be on his nerves.

Although without mark, you could feel how nervous Johnny is through his scent, the sweet cinnamon having a twinge of sour, any other alpha would’ve lost control at this point, but Johnny hasn’t even complained about his awful blue balls even once, and is instead contributing to his own pain, and so you decide to help him out, or you’d be lying in your own puddle of arousal and still you wouldn’t have came even once.

“Tell me what you want to do with me,” you suggest before you seal your lips with his, in hopes that it’d motivate him to be more expressive with you, that if you can’t lead Johnny himself to make a move on you, that Johnny’s alpha would.

Instantly, Johnny’s hands held onto your hips possessively, his face nuzzles into your neck, his tongue flicking dangerously at the spot which might bind you closer than the imprint, but you expose your neck still, your omega doing the thinking for you in this haze of lust your body is driven to.

When he brushes his teeth against your sliver of neck, you instantly feel a new flood of arousal, your scent now heavily dousing the air Johnny breathes in.

Johnny curses, and you know why, you could feel his large cock twitching in his pants, the tip grinding against your puffy clit through the many layers of clothing, the rough material encouraging you to swivel your hips faster, your mind in a frenzy to seek more pleasure, but Johnny ceases all your movements with his strong hands.

“You asked me what I wanted to do with you,” Johnny says before his hands pry your clothed cheeks apart, dropping his head to your shoulder before he inhales deeply, almost growling at the sweet spike of your scent, “I want a taste, sweetheart, could you give me that?” Johnny asks after pulling away, his eyes hooded, a red hue painted on his honey brown eyes. 

“Okay-y,” you say shakily, preparing to hop off of your alpha, but Johnny ceases your movements once more, causing you to whine, your omega disliking the fact that you’re getting denied from your sweet pleasure.

“I want you to ride my face, baby,” Johnny demands, pushing you upwards his body, getting you to move as you quickly nod your head, one of your oldest fantasies of Johnny coming true right now.

Johnny helps you remove your pants and underwear, his eyes zoning in on your slicked up pussy.

“Beautiful, so fucking pretty, and all mine,” Johnny admires aloud before he jerks your body downwards, attaching his tongue to your cunt, lapping away like some mutt, his tongue greedily catches all your sweet juices before he thrusts his tongue inside your core, groaning at the way your warm velvet walls cocoon around his tongue, his mind reeling at the thought of having his cock deep inside you, how tight you’d feel around him.

Johnny’s pace is too fast, he has you grabbing the headboard, toes clenched as you whimper at the feeling of his flexible tongue and sharp nose digging at your clit when he started moving your hips for you, you’re most certainly fucking his face now, and when you thought things couldn’t feel any better, Johnny exchanges his tongue with three of his fingers and he traps your clit in between his lips, sucking hard, he had feared his jaw would really go slack if he keeps up with the strenuous routine for too long.

However, the added thickness and length quickly has you screaming, the tips of his fingers finally reaching your sensitive spot, and so you fall apart, screaming.

“Fuck, so good, daddy,” you say as you weakly grind against Johnny’s face, not registering the fact that the man under you had frozen up, but he lets you continue nonetheless, savouring your sweet release on his taste buds.

When you’re finally done riding out your high, Johnny gently flips you to his spot, now he’s hovering over you, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I didn’t expect you to spill that dirty little secret to daddy this soon, my sweetheart,” Johnny says as he brushes your hair out of your face, admiring your flushed face.

Your heart drops at Johnny’s words, cursing at your lack of clarity whilst you're entrapped in this sex crazed heat.

“Don’t be so worried baby, you don’t need to hide yourself from daddy,” Johnny reassures before he kisses you softly, tasting yourself on his tongue.

With Johnny’s reassurance, you uncover yourself and start roaming your hands up his shirt to have a touch of Johnny’s chiselled body, he deduces that he can wait no longer, quickly jerking off his pants, his large cock hung in between his strong thighs, Johnny jerks off his cock with his hands as he admires your bare body, he feels himself battling with his wolf side, the desire to fuck, breed, and claim nagging his mind.

“You can still back out, sweetheart, go while my rut hasn’t entirely consumed me,” Johnny reminds you.

“No, please, I need this, I need you, daddy,” you say as you spread your legs, sitting up to reach for Johnny’s cock, but before you could even touch him, Johnny gently pushes you down the bed with one hand, the other gripping his dick in his hands, guiding himself to your entrance.

Johnny intertwines his hand with yours, hands locked next to your head as you feel his gaze burning into yours, slowly, you feel him breaching your ring of muscle, your walls opening up bit by bit as he fills you up slowly.

A whimper escapes you as you feel him surely filling you up to the brim.

“I’m sorry, baby, just a little bit more, you’re more than halfway in, baby, you’re doing a good job for me,” Johnny coos, his thumb brushing against your knuckles, an action he does whenever he picks up your anxiety spike in your scent.

When you’ve swallowed his length whole, Johnny lets you adjust to his size, distracting you by kissing you passionately, hoping that his lips would suffice as a distraction from the burn you’re feeling down there, and slowly, the burning feeling turns into slow but steady twinges of pleasure, and the fullness is driving your omega crazy, and now she’s craving for a big fat knot.

“You can move now, daddy,” you say, in a reassuring tone, your hand squeezing Johnny’s.

Johnny nods, before he pulls his hand away, choosing to hold your hips for better control, he thrusts shallowly, needing to gauge your reaction before he really starts, and the reaction is immediate, the friction of your walls against his bare cock is too good, moaning at the slight movement.

Johnny takes this as a positive sign, his alpha crooning, he pulls out most of his length, leaving the tip in before he thrusts back into you in one stroke, groaning at the way you clench around him. 

“Fuck, baby, you feel so tight, so wet,” Johnny mumbles, more to himself since you’re getting lost by how Johnny almost immediately locates your sweet spot again, a whine leaving you as your toes clench and your nails drag down his back, and the pain fuels Johnny, knowing that he could drive you mad just from his dick alone.

“Alpha, please…”

Johnny’s cock twitches at hearing you beg, he doesn’t even need to dick train you, your daddy issues alone have moulded you into his perfect princess.

“Please what, sweetheart? You need to be specific,” Johnny demands, a hand coming to rub circles on your clit, he knows you’re very wet by now, but he wants you to unclench yourself, it’s not going to be pleasurable if you’re constantly tense.

“I…” you stutter, how can you voice the fact that you want him to move because you’re insanely horny? But the encouraging smile and constant calming pheromones in the air has you caving in, and maybe your omega is getting frustrated too.

“Want you to move faster, please daddy,” you say in a seductive, yet shy whisper, before you add on something absolutely unfiltered from your omega’s mind, “make your omega feel good.”

Johnny lets out an appreciative growl, ready to accept the challenge after hearing you call yourself his.

Johnny ploughs his cock inside you at a rapid pace, his hands grabbing, digging into your ass cheeks as he most literally, rocks your world.

You could feel yourself slipping away from sanity, choked moans leaving your parted lips as Johnny rearranges your guts, hooking one of your legs around his waist so that he could thrust deeper inside you, upholding your request of being filled with his cum.

A loud whine escapes you as you let yourself be manhandled, anything is fine by you as long as you could feel this overwhelming amount of pleasure going through your body.  

You hold onto Johnny’s tricep as you feel yourself being rushed into another high.

“Daddy!” you gasp out once the dam of pleasure finally breaks, figuratively and literally, because the next thing you could register in your heat crazed haze is that your pelvis and Johnny’s luscious looking thighs are drenched with your release.

Your eyes widen comically as you take in the fact that you just squirted, the apology on the tip of your tongue.

However, Johnny beats you to it, voicing his positive thoughts over it.

“Fuck, baby, can’t believe you squirted just like that, your tight little hole couldn’t handle daddy’s big cock, am I right?” Johnny asks, his tone so gentle, yet his words so filthy, and that has your heart doing somersaults and your pussy clenching enthusiastically. 

Then your heart drops, the love fest interrupts your train of thoughts, Johnny hasn’t cum yet.

“Daddy, you haven’t cum,” you said, immediately clenching onto the girth inside you, but Johnny grips your hips to halt you.

“You must be tired, let your body rest before your heat consumes you again,” Johnny suggests, prepared to pull out of you.

“No! Please, daddy, I need your cum, your knot, or I’d feel empty…daddy,” the last part came out as a whisper, still not being used to voicing out your carnal desires even though it’s perfectly normal, especially during one’s heat.

Johnny gives you a soft smile, a hand caressing your face before he kisses you gently on the lips.

“Present yourself,” your alpha says to you before he pulls himself out, kneeling before your beautiful body, choosing to let you make the move.

And so you did, slowly lifting yourself, turning around and presenting yourself, on your knees with your ass arched up, your pussy glistening even under the minimal lighting in the room. 

Johnny curses under his breath before he quickly seathes himself back inside you, groaning at the welcoming walls that he once again sank into.

“Don’t hold back, alpha, take what you need,” you say, twisting your neck to get a glimpse at the beautiful man you’re able to call yours.

Johnny curses under his breath before he resumes the punishing pace he had going on before you reached your high. You’re really starting to think you’re a masochist, the way you enjoy the slight burn from the overstimulation has all the signs showing that you can no longer deny.

“Is my baby a pain slut? Whining that it hurts, but I can still feel your pussy getting wetter for me,” Johnny teases as he slows down his thrusts, putting more emphasis on fucking you deeper, now that you’ve came.

All you could do was nod between sniffles, struggling to agree with your alpha verbally, knowing that most men find that sexy, but Johnny coos, he knows what you want to convey, and the fact that you couldn’t even speak your mind whilst he fucks you just drives his confidence through the roof.

Before he knows it, Johnny could feel his cock bulging up, his knot forming, groaning at the feeling of your tight walls wrapped around him so closely, and his knot hasn’t even finished swelling up.

Johnny whispers sweet encouragements in your ears as you whimper at the foreign feeling of being knotted.

Soon after, his knot starts to deflate, spurts of cum painting your walls white as he calls your name sweetly, almost moaning. 

And slowly, the stream comes to a stop, you were in and out of it during the time of you and Johnny being locked together, dozing off as Johnny has his arms wrap around your body, scenting you even though you are most definitely drenched in his scent from the constant physical attachment, but he understands you well enough that you need this on an emotional level.

“You can still leave if you don’t want to spend my rut with me, I can feel it starting soon, maybe give or take a few hours,” Johnny reminds you, giving you one last chance to leave if you decide to not spend a rut with him yet, which is respectable, the two of you haven’t been dating that long, most people at least wait a year of dating before spending such a vulnerable time together.

“I’m sure, Johnny,” you reassured him as you brush the flyaways from his handsome face.

“Then let’s get some food before we fuck like bunnies again,” Johnny jokes before he whisks you away to the direction of his kitchen, tummy rumbling now that you caught whiff of the scent of delicious food, you just hope your alpha is able to keep his hands to himself long enough after you guy finish washing the dishes.

You smile to yourself at the realisation, that even with all the uncertainty that started off between the two of you, the situation with your mother and how Johnny used to keep you at arm’s length, in the end, you win.

[twistersobsessed]

This is my first request on tumblr so sorry if it doesn’t make sense but could you do a Boone x Tyler’s sister reader where they’ve known eachother for awhile being that Tyler and him are childhood friends and Tyler’s super overprotective of her, and her and Boone are secretly dating and Tyler finds out. Maybe Boone comforts her after a tornado or something. I love your twisters stuff.

My Brother’s Best Friend | Boone x Reader

A/N: Combined this idea with another ask that was similar.

Tyler was overprotective, but he was also oblivious. That was probably how you and Boone had gotten away with it for so long.

Boone was Tyler’s childhood best friend, and when you were a kid you had a thing for him. He never admitted it, but he had a thing for you too.

When you were adults and Tyler formed the Wranglers, you and Boone began dating. Everyone else on the team knew, but they all kept quiet about it.

But the viewers had started picking up on it lately and you knew it was only a matter of time before Tyler put two and two together.

A knock sounded at your door. You groaned, rolling out of bed to open the door. As soon as you opened it you were being ushered back inside by Boone, who shut the door behind him. He wrapped you up in his arms and began assaulting you with kisses.

You squirmed in his hold, whining, “Boone, I just woke up.”

“G’morning, baby,” Boone cooed.

“Good morning,” you giggled as he attacked your neck with bites. He only nipped so that he wouldn’t leave marks. Tyler would notice and grill you to death about it.

“Seriously, baby, I have to get ready,” you laughed. Boone pouted but let you go, following you around the room like a puppy. You changed in front of him and he stuttered over his words as he rambled about the new camera he’d gotten.

“Alright,” you said, once you were dressed and ready. “Let’s go.”

Boone kissed you one final time before you both left the motel room and went to join the others.

It was supposed to be a normal day.

By 4:00, you were all rushing into the town of El Reno to save as many people as you could from the EF5 hurtling towards them.

Your heart dropped when the storm shelters were full. Someone suggested the movie theater, you didn’t know who in the chaos, and suddenly Boone was pulling you along and ushering other people towards the building.

In the theater, Javi and Tyler checked for a basement and found none. You noticed Kate had a look in her eyes. She turned without saying anything to anyone and you followed her. She went outside, to Tyler’s truck, and you knew what she was about to do.

You ran after her and jumped in the passenger seat.

“(Name),” Kate started. “I’m not letting you go alone,” you cut her off with finality. Kate squeezed your hand before slamming on the gas.

You could feel your heartbeat speeding up as you turned towards the tornado head-on.

Kate stopped the truck right in front of the monster and deployed the drills into the ground, securing the truck.

You both waited, holding hands, as the tornado consumed you. “Now,” Kate said, hitting the button to deploy the barrels. Your heart dropped when nothing happened. “No, no, come on,” Kate muttered, panicked.

Finally, the lids popped open and you both breathed a sigh of relief. That relief didn’t last long. The truck began to groan and creak. Kate put the hand that wasn’t holding yours on her lap and you mirrored her. You looked at one another one more time.

.

.

.

Pain was the first thing you felt. “(Name)!” Your eyelids fluttered open. You were still in the truck, but upside down, held to your seat only by your harness. Your head hurt and you could feel something wet on the side of your face so you could only imagine you had a head injury.

Looking over at Kate, she did too, but it wasn’t very deep. “Can you move? You hit your head pretty bad.”

You stretched your limbs to the best of your ability.

“Yeah, yeah, I can move.”

“Let’s get out of here.” Kate’s window was completely gone. She undid her harness and ungracefully fell from her seat. She began to crawl through the open window. Suddenly you could hear other voices, and someone pulled Kate all the way out of the truck.

You unbuckled your harness and fell, very mindful of your head. It took you a moment to collect yourself enough to move. You sluggishly crawled towards the window. You noticed there were more voices outside now, but everything was kind of fuzzy so you couldn’t tell who’s they were.

You reached the window and stuck your arm out, readying to drag yourself out, but someone grabs your arm. You reach out your other arm and someone else takes it, and they drag you as carefully as they can out of the truck.

Your saviors were Boone and Tyler. Boone pulled you into his chest and held you, sitting and cradling you like a baby. “(Name), thank fuck, you’re okay,” Tyler cried. He’d started crying as soon as he and Javi had pulled Kate out the truck.

“Never do that to me again,” Boone whispered. You closed your eyes, feeling dizzy but safe. “No, baby, open your eyes, you gotta stay awake for me, okay?”

Neither of you noticed Tyler watching you both closely, putting the pieces together.

“Let’s get you guys to the hospital to get patched up,” Dexter said. Tyler helped Kate up and Boone helped you up. You swayed on your feet slightly, and Boone immediately scooped you up to carry you. “Boone, you don’t have to–” “Shush.”

Tyler side-eyed you.

Boone carried you all the way back to the car.

At the hospital, you ended up passing out and getting stitches. You were thankful they did the stitches while you were unconscious. The hospital checked you in for the night to monitor you for any signs of severe head trauma.

You woke up to voices around nine that night. You kept your eyes closed and listened, identifying the voices as Boone’s and Tyler’s.

“I’m offended you thought I was that stupid, Boone,” Tyler said.

“Tyler, listen, I know I should have told you or hell, even asked you, but it just happened and we didn’t want to upset you with it,” Boone replied.

“I’m more upset you hid it from me.”

“I’m sorry, man.”

You opened your eyes. “Blame me, Tyler.”

They both turned to you with wide eyes, and were at your sides in an instant. Boone cradled your face, Tyler grabbed your hand.

“You’re awake!” Boone exclaimed, relieved.

You smiled at him before turning your attention to Tyler. “Sorry I didn’t tell you, Ty. I thought you’d have a problem with it and things were going so well we just didn’t want anything to rock the boat.”

Tyler sighed. “I don’t like seeing you date anyone but I guess if you have to date someone I’m happy it’s my best friend.”

Boone perked up. “You know I’ll treat her right, Ty.”

“Yeah, yeah. Ya’ll have my blessing or whatever.”

You relaxed in the bed, glad there were no more secrets between you and your brother and glad that you didn’t have to hide with Boone anymore.

“I love you guys.”

[justabrunettewhowrites-stuff]

Can you do a Clarisse x reader fic where reader snaps at Luke after he calls Clarisse the lightning thief pls? 😇 Fem reader also.

'Thunderstruck'

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Reader

A/N:Hii!Ty for requesting,lovely!I tried but it turned out rather short.But still I hope you like it!Also sorry for beint inactive I had a ton of tests.Probs gonna post more this weekend then be ia for weeks again(hopefully not)

You snap at Luke after he accuses Clarisse of being the thief,and he reveals his true nature.But unknown to you-Clarisse saw it all.

Among campers,accusations of the lightning thief circulated,asting suspicion on Clarisse La Rue-the one who 'had a motive to do it' as luke claimed.Anger swelled within you as Luke pointed fingers at her.It ended with you and him arguing in his cabin "You've got to be bullshitting!You think Clarisse is the lightning thief?" you snapped, eyes burning with frustration. "You're out of your goddamned mind,Castellan!"

Luke's eyes narrowed, his gaze gleaming with a sinister edge. "Watch your tongue.You might not want to make enemies with the wrong people," he warned, a dark undercurrent in his voice.

But you weren't one to back down. "I don't give a single fuck who believes you! Clarisse is not the thief, and you know it,you fucking liar!" The words flew from your mouth like arrows, fueled by a mix of anger and frustration.

But unbeknownst to you, Clarisse observed the heated exchange from the shadows. She saw you defending her honor, even when she wasn't present. Something stirred within her, a warmth that surpassed camaraderie.

As the argument escalated in Luke's empty cabin, his true nature unveiled itself. The revelation sent a shiver down your spine. "You're working with Kronos, aren't you?" you accused, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anger.

Luke's malevolence was palpable as he threatened you, his true colors unfurling like a dark banner. Refusing to be intimidated, you clenched your fists and, without a second thought, delivered a resounding punch to his face.

In the aftermath, as the echo of your punch lingered, Luke's cruel grip on your chin startled you. "Keep your mouth shut," he hissed, leaving you with a sense of vulnerability and shock.

Leaving Luke's cabin, you sought solace by the lake. The water's gentle ripples mirrored the storm within you as the storm outside continued to brew.Unbeknownst to you, Clarisse had followed,silently watching as you grappled with the turmoil of emotions.Sensing your frustration, she approached and sat next to you.

The clouds overhead darkened, and a distant rumble of thunder echoed through the air. Raindrops started to fall, gradually turning into a torrential downpour. With the rain cascading around you, you and Clarisse found yourselves drenched in water.

"Hey," she said gruffly,not even paying attention to the rain,but earning your attention,a flicker of surprise crossing your features as you looked at her. "Thanks for standing up for me back there.Means more than you know."

You managed a small smile,still surprised but as you were about to speak,but before you could utter a word, Clarisse pulled you in,by your shirt as she silenced you with a sudden but equally passionate kiss. It caught you off guard, but the intensity of the moment overwhelmed any protest that might have crossed your mind.

Clarisse released you, her gaze locking onto yours. "Don't need your words right now,just your presence,pretty girl." she asserted.Though,seemingly aware of your shock-and enjoying it,she gave a smirk and spoke again, "Don't ruin the moment with words.Just enjoy it."

As the rain intensified,the world around you blurred into a watery haze.The raindrops, echoing the heartbeat of the moment. In the midst of the storm, your lips met again, a mix of passion and a tinge of vulnerability.

A/N:I'd punch and kiss Luke at the same time but how dare u accuse my girl like that 😭

[mahiiimahiiii]

the less i know the better

Cw/: hurt & comfort, sloppy “I’m sorry for being rude” sex, service top gale, body image issues, shapeshifters and enchanters have some things to discuss, multiple orgasms, some crying, taking care of each other, piv, durges previous encounters, mentions of durges necrophilia, gortash ruins relationships like no one’s business, mentions of squirting and intense orgasms, durge is in they feels.

a/n: i would like to have a big bath, like swimming pool sized. we didn't get a beach or bathhouse episode so i took it upon myself.

what do we want??? Service top gale!!! When do we want it?? At a decent time!!!! I’m pretty sure I pinched my shoulder at the gym and it stingssss. Please play the world’s tiniest violin in my honor. I love bathhouse scenes, so I hope y’all enjoy this one.

(durge is a wood elf storm sorcerer, once again they are brown with loose curls at chin length hair)

(read on a03 or below the cut!)

(if you like what i write- please consider donating to my ko-fi!)

“You could’ve told me that one of your alias’s was lady gortash sooner.” Gale’s voice soured slightly, as you shuffled back into the tiled specialty changing room. You dispelled a few things, taking a few shuddering breaths.

“How was I supposed to know.” Your steps are a bit shorter as you step out of your boots. Hair once silver returning to a charcoal black. The crimson left its stain on your eyes, its color pulsing with every anxious heartbeat.

“You didn’t know what? You’d think something as important as being spoken for would be remembered.” His back turned to you as he worked on un-buttoning his robe, the stiff white collar of his shirt slowly revealed.

you held your head in your hands, rubbing the khol around your eyes. Your previously too perfect features dissipating, revealing the molted and decaying flesh underneath. As you stared at your own face in the mirror, tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, you blinked them back. “It’s not…it never was like that.” Your voice warbled more than you thought it would. The reflection that stared back at you in the large vanity mirror looked pitiful.

“Oh.” His tone softened, “Avi…I didn’t mean to push.” He turned around, hesitant to approach. His eyes were round pools of emotion. Your ears twitch at the sound of your own chosen name, one gale insisted you find- he qualified his nagging on saying ‘the dark urge isn’t a great name for such a gorgeous person.’  

“I didn’t know it would hurt this much, I felt… a stinging loss when I saw him. It got worse, when I got called that. Urgh- I don’t like this very much. Feeling like this. Unhappy.” Tears began to roll down your cheeks staining your skin with dark burgundy and black smears. You wiped them on your robe’s sleeves, setting your head in your hands again.

He placed a warm hand on your back, rubbing small circles.

“It’s ok to cry, I do it a lot.” He chuckled softly, kissing the crown of your head. He inhaled your hair’s scent, draping himself over you. A few tears trailed down your cheeks, you buried your head into your arms.

“You must think me weak.” The steaks of enchanted silver that danced in your hair faded into deep brown. Your ears shortened their length not as elegant, bones popped and reshaped, freckles and moles began to fade onto your skin. Scars, and marks and all. Your hair returned, short curly and shaggy, you looked now like a typical wood elf. What you were bred to be. Unremarkable.

“Not at all really…” he curled a strand of hair behind your twitching ear, the pads of his finger ghosting the fragile flesh. “Let me embrace you fully, it’s what you deserve.” His breath brushed against your ears; your skin itched under his touch. “It’s my apology.” His voice was light, “to show… my devotion to you.”

“You needn’t do any of that.” You chided, pushing in the chair, your robes hung off of you slightly. “I don’t wish to become another idolization, I’m but a mere mortal.”

“Nothing but mere, and anything but mortal.” He twirled a curl of yours, fingers braided in your hair. He cups your chin, tilting his head his pupils wide. His lips curled up into an easy smile. “You are mine, despite having… a rather unfortunate birth parent.” He giggled. He led you to the chair that draped his clothes, you curled up, embraced by his cloaks scent. He unlaced his sleeves, and the side of his shirt, finally tossing it at your head. You tucked it behind your head, watching his nimble hands remove his taught pants, the golden buttons glinting in the light. He stepped out of them, his calves flexing as he moved. It left him in his bloomers, which shimmered and crackled with weave. You had seen him in this state of undress multiple times before, every time it felt like the first, a breath of fresh air, an embrace, an urge much sweeter than the ones embedded in your flesh and crawled along your spine. He hummed, unlacing his underwear, again throwing them at your head. Should you be gross? You held it to your nose and inhaled, a rumble rising through your chest. a sound akin to a moan rose from gale’s throat. They smelt of sweat, ozone, and rosemary oil.

Of course, he applied rosemary oil to his crotch. He stretched, bending over as his bones stretched under his skin. “Come, sit up. Let me help you.” You followed his command, he worked diligently to unlace the corset that held your robes together. “I do rather like this look on you. Plum is such a becoming color.” His lips tickled your neck as he placed a knee fearfully close to your slowly heating core. “You look gorgeous, like this.” He kissed a mole on your cheek and another on your forehead; “much better than pretending to be something your not.” He removed the corset with ease,

his fingers hooking under your robe. He wiggled it over your head, a similar wrap shirt that he wore clad your shoulders. He sharply inhaled at the realization that that you didn’t wear your usual camisole underneath. Your breast peaks and nipples erect. “Oh, my love, what you do to me.” He kissed up your chin to the corner of your mouth, his hands slipping to the sides of your shirt to loosen the wrap.

You exhaled, leaning into his touch. Perhaps this was the one person able to make your urges feel at bay, to feel safe. A thought creeped into the back of your mushy skull, what if he wasn’t. The easy smile the lord held, his posture- warm and inviting. The sweetness he held in his eyes, how his hand caressed your shoulders, fell at your hips and drew you in. You could taste him, you could remember his scent, embedded in every primal part of your head. He smelt deeper than gale, whiskey and crude oil, musk and amber. Your skin itched to taste his sweat, and the coppery tang your tongue knew so well.  to trace the bites of the blade along his hips and stomach, the almond scented paint that clung to your hair. The clench of his thighs along your shoulders. You felt disgusting, fantasizing about another man’s touch in the presence of the one you loved.

“Gale- stop for a second.” You noted a flash of concern in his eye, he knelt back down again, tilting his head in a silent question. Tears budded again, as you held your head in your hands. “I am ashamed. I can’t… I’m terrified of my own thoughts. Flashes I see the lord, in the way I see you now. He will not leave, be gentler- and diligent” you paused trying to think how to phrase it. “To possibly… take my mind off things.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, “perhaps we should establish something, and you’re sweet for saying that. I’m glad you felt safe enough to tell me.” He sat back on his haunches. “Perhaps… the shower will help? Ill leave you to finish undressing if you feel uncomfortable.” He squeezed your shoulders, kissing your forehead. “I’ll depart for now then. Come join me when you feel ready.” His movements were fluid, hands drawing a sharp sigh from your lips. He left through the open doorway into the showers. His nails scratched against the doorway; your core ached immaculately. You finished off his work, the dark plum verses bright magenta robes draped against each other on the chair. You felt oddly exposed without your enchanted spells guarding you, waddling into the cedar and teakwood showers you felt more at peace. Gale was nowhere to be seen, but a satisfied groan emanated from the bright hallway ahead. You settled down on the stool testing the water on your hand before handling the wand. The water smooth and warm against your skin. The soaps and skin serums to remove dirt and dead skin smelt herbal. Tonics infused with healing potions, an intriguing way to go about things. You scrubbed your skin until it was red and raw, you felt clean but not clean enough. You sat in the steam of

the water for a moment, debating on continuing forward. You decided too, the warmth of the light and the pools beyond beckoning you forward.

The light was blinding once stepping out the hallway, plants and fauna lined the tiles surrounding the baths, a plush bed with towels and robes on top of it. a table next to it and a patterned robe with tassels. Candles, sherry and crystal goblets, candies and small sandwiches, a platter with fresh fruits and perfumes, and bottles that shone like gems. Gortash really pulled the full 9 yards. Towered over the bath, curiously was a statue of Mystra, her gaze focused on the bath itself, arms outstretched in a surrounding gesture, the sun perfectly framed around her head. It was almost reminiscent of a greenhouse. Gales head peaks between the waves of foam. He floated upwards, paddling to the side of the bath to grip the edge and prop his head in his arms.

“Feeling better?” he beamed, rose petals and violets clung to his hair, they floated on the surface of the foam. You walked towards the steps, dipping your toe in carefully. It was a wonderful temperature.

“a little.” You hum, lowering your weary limbs in the water. “it’s a little unnerving to have a statue of my partner’s ex staring at my naked form. I feel judged.”

“Often statues of Mystra are depicted with her eyes closed…” he swam closer to you, “I am... uncertain why this one is open, perhaps its just another god that looks similar.”

“Let us hope it’s just that.” You settled on a side edge seat, the sun a warm lazy glow on your skin, a warm and floral breeze churned the air. He almost seated himself in your lap, his head tucked into the alcove of your neck, his face a mottled pink from the hot water. His eyes laid shut; his breath warm against your chin. You leaned your head against the tile, allowing him the access to fully intwine with your limbs. You began to become drowsy, tapping his shoulder you escorted him to the bed, comfortably placed within a warm sunbeam.

You both curled up again like lizards on a hot rock. An overwhelming sense of contented sleepiness taking hold of you. Your dreams, or what you could call them flitted with the same images of the man, contented to a stretch within your core- they filled you with bliss. His voice moved against your senses like molasses, crashing wave after wave as his blunt nails dug into his skin. He smelt of crude oil again, wearing a black undershirt underneath his overalls that hung off the dips of his hips, the pale skin contrasted with dark moles on the edges of his thighs. His

nose was buried in your neck, one of his hands covering your mouth and nose the scent of gasoline making you lightheaded.

Keep quiet his voice hissed in your recesses, you bit down on his hand, drooling onto his fingers like a fool. Another snap of his hip’s heaven sent to your core.

He suggested a bath after making a mess of your temple attire, his warm hands scratched your scalp in the cool night of the moon.

His poor bhaalist, his assassin, right hand to the tyrant, his.

You slept on the cool bed curled up on his chest, nose crested his sternum listening to his sighs and mumbling as he slept.

But that was under the moon, you lived in the sun now,

You stretched your legs out a pinging pain setting off in your calf. he muttered, adjusting his body to snuggle closer. His legs intertwined with yours, a throbbing heat coming from his crotch, you could feel the weight on your thigh- a gentle twitch now ang again.

“Gale- “you whisper.

“Mmph.” Was his plain response, rolling over to face you, his eyes closed shut. He had a slow and easy smile on his lips. Rain began to patter on the big glass roof, the vibration of the droplets making small ripples and rivulets from the puddles that gathered. You traced the curve of his chest, your fingers knitted through the hair on his skin.

“Do you love me, gale.”

An eye snapped open. He began to laugh, loud and throaty his cheeks pink. “what a silly question!” His tone changed, one more serious and concerned. “Is something troubling you? A thought deeming you not worthy of my affections?” He raised his brow.

“More memories.” You rub your eyes, “the lord permeates most of them, I feel… disgusting to say the least.”

“it’s not your fault- “he rubs your shoulder, his fingers tracing the soft scars from your flaying. “You had no memory, and frankly that was previous- you don’t mind my discussion of Mystra, so I won’t mind your discussion of… gortash.” He pauses, chewing his inner cheek. “Tell me about him, little love.” You were the one to pause, closing your eyes, searching for the best recollection. “His skin was warm, for once. It made an aching difference in my heart. The only flesh I’ve touched was to consume, or in an act of kill. This was even not to say- that those I’ve killed were simply safe in death. I’ve rutted against and filled with- the same cooled flesh. Malleable,

stiff to the touch. Cold.” You shiver out of instinct. “He liked how I looked without the glamor; he said I was beautiful. He told me I was pretty.” A tear pricks at your eye, you warbled slightly continuing your thought. “no one has told me that before. A part of me felt- that glamor was the only way to command respect. Who would respect the most common creature? Not gifted with power and strength like Sarveok, or fantastic shape changing like Orin. A part of me thinks he’s lying, as is his nature. But Enver- Gortash, I know he was hurting too. It makes it worse, those shared moments we had.”

“You were gifted with plenty more than your family ever will have. Orin isn’t the least bit as beautiful, in my frank opinion. I never liked the silver hair on you, clashes too much with your eyes.” He cups your chin, his thumb stroking absently at the sides of his chin.

“Tell me how I look then, in this form.” You plead softly.

He sighs dreamily before beginning. “What I see is a witty and intelligent person. their skin dotted with freckles like the night sky. A mole on the most kissable spots on their face. Pretty and rosy cheeks, greater in hue than any in a garden. A voice like a ringing bell, or the clink of a crystal goblet filled with wine. Their skin as brown as a deep butterscotch, its taste smoother than any whiskey. Don’t get me started on your scent- “

You giggle, kissing his lips sweetly. “No- do, I’m enjoying it.”

He rolls his eyes playfully, “oh I will, but if you insist…” he kisses your nose, rolling you onto your back, your thighs seated on his low hips. He bent down adding kisses as emphasis with his words. “you’ve always smelt like the weave- fresh and bright like citrus fruits.”

“Must be the oranges I eat for breakfast.”

“Oh, hush you- “he kisses you, his hands wrapping into your long curly locks. His lips trail down your chin to your neck, he inhaled deeply. “One thing I do not like is your adult name you chose, with your 50 years of living and you chose ‘Avrice.’”

“It sounds nice- “you insisted. You were 50, which was around late 20’s early 30’s for a human.

“My sweetest love- do you know what ‘Avrice’ means.” He asked within your neck, to this you shrug. He snorts within your skin, placing small kisses on the alcove of your neck. “It means greed.”

“Explains a lot. I’m certainly greedy for your affections. I’m greedy to not be known as just-another-bhaalspawn. I am more than bountiful in company- I lust after all that life has to offer.”

he laughed again, his voice like the warm roar of the hearth, “indeed you are my love, indeed you are.”

“Can I try… something else, I’m in the mood, I think.” He hummed; his gaze soft.

“Really? I couldn’t tell.” You replied sarcastically, shifting your thigh up. The pressure earned a soft groan from him.

“You know how I don’t last as long as you? I have a small idea on that end. Perhaps I start you off sooner, if that makes sense.”

“I’d be up for it- as long as you are gentle.”

He hummed again, this time in acknowledgement. His movements were slow, deliberate. A quick cast of buzzing mage hand, which busied itself on uncorking a bottle of oil.  It scooped some of the liquid out spreading the lubricant out on its fingers. The oil smelt of jasmine and tropical flowers. He helped your legs into a bent position before seating himself on your waist, you felt one of the soft buzzing digits braces against your opening. Gale cupped your cheek bowing over for a kiss, his hands reminded you of the branches of a willow tree. His hips gently rocked against your torso, a slow and satisfied grunt drawing from his lips. He kissed you again, showing a devotion to the way your lips felt on his. Then you felt it, a soft buzz underneath a bulb of spongey tissue, the incorporeal hand must’ve entered quite easily into you for you not to notice. The thumb of the spell pressed against your clit, enveloping around it slightly. A warm heat spread steadily to your core, not enough to be considered stereotypically pleasurable, but quite lovely, nonetheless.

You wound an arm around him, your hand rooting itself in his curls as his thighs and calves spilt off your body onto the sheet below. He smiled between kisses, wanting your other arm around him. His beard scratched at your skin in a nice way. Your hands navigated to his hips, letting out a low gurgle when one of the fingers drew circles inside of you. He chuckles lightly as your hip bones tap his stomach. You felt it fleetingly, a little burst of flame that made your chest tighten. How quick was that? He could tell too, a peck to your nose before the intensity of the spell picked up, the thumb against your clit lightening up for a moment- before engulfing you again.

“That is one then, hm?” he smiled sweetly, combing a hand through your hair. “I shall make my way down- unless you have any objections.”

“No- “you murmur softly, scratching the back of the wizard’s scalp, a contented rumble emanated from his chest. with your legs lowered his sat back on your thighs He palmed your chest, the pads of his fingers grazing over your nipple. He gently pinched the flesh, hardening it between his fingers. The other neglected nipple went into his mouth,

his lips encompassed the flesh of your chest. he sighed, a happy one at that, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration.

The other hand not in use went to his groin, cupping and palming his balls quite gently. His hands traced the seam of his perinium, pressing up into the sensitive tissue just below the skin. His mouth and hand switched, leaving blooms of bruises and bites in his wake.

He began to mark the skin of the other breast, his tongue swirling around the pebbled nipple, eliciting a soft groan from you.  He began to kiss lower, his lips hovered over every freckle. Every mole was cataloged and memorized by his kiss, every scar traced and groped.

You admired the soft dip of his stomach, full of soup, he would always say. The warm curve of his hip, and the twitch of his ear. How his brow furrows, and the sunspots on his cheeks. The crinkle next to his eyes, and the smile lines and dimples on his cheeks. What a gorgeous man you’ve managed to acquire, you were more thankful every day.

He spread your legs like softened butter, kissing down your calves and thighs. He settled back onto his knees, his joints popping underneath the weight. The fingers curled inside of you, a stretch warming up your walls. He braced the sides of your legs, bowing his head to hover over cunt. He stretched his leg out, laying off his stomach, wrapping his arms around your waist. Your legs locked his head in place, spit dribbling off his tongue. The pressure lightened off your clit, the tip of his tongue tracing anxious circles. His lips covered the sensitive nerve, providing ample suction. The transparent fingers lovingly stroked your insides, cramping down on them ever so slightly. His lips were downy and soft, her eyes pools of deep dark brown. They gazed at you through long brown lashes, they fluttered every so often.

“You are a treat- “he was almost breathless, enraptured with your pleasure. His tongue was warm and thick against your folds. His kisses against your clit were sloppy and wonderful, drool and slips of tongue, his beard scratched your inner thighs deliciously.

You bucked your hips against his nose, to this he squeezed your thighs to stay still. He removed himself, sweeping down quickly to your inner thighs. He quickly bit down; his teeth left indents.

You groaned again, your abs tightening, you felt a quick forced rush like a cramp in your lower abs. Gale chirped in surprise, a wide smile growing on his lips.

“Aha! I have turned on the tap it seems.” His tongue memorized the outlines of your folds, sweeping up the salty ejaculate. Your face burned. Gale’s gaze turned quizzical “this hasn’t happened before?”

“No- not really.”

His eyes widen, and brows raise. “The child of bhaal I know very well- that has done heinous things that in the eyes of any a god would have them hell bound, hasn’t had their tap turned.”

“there’s only so much you can do with a corpse.”

He huffs, a slight frown at the mention. “Not even your noble friend?”

“No, no- I suppose not. I received pleasure- yes, but not that. It feels odd.”

“it’s completely normal, don’t worry your head.” He stroked your thigh, shifting his weight back to his haunches. “Is this position ok?” he slid his knees under your thighs,

The hand dissipated inside of you, another jingled into life to grab the bottle of lubricant. He poured it over his hands and shaft, lubricating it. he smoothed the rest of the hydrating oil onto your knees, giving both a peck.

He lined himself with your entrance, holding your hips before leaning forward into you. His head bowed, lips grazing yours as he let out a slow and shaky moan. He hit hilt, a tight squeeze forcing a rumble from his chest.

“Gods- “he hissed, “look how tight you are now- for me- so sweet like this.” He nestled his head into your neck, pulsing slow shallow strokes into you. “My pretty star, hm? Does this feel good?”

“Quite lovely- thank you” you gasp out, pressing him closer into your skin. Your toes curled uncomfortably, yet your heart sang. The buzzing returned to your clit, the sounds from your cunt were absolutely sinful, wet and erotic- followed by the steady slap of gales thighs against your ass. Again, you felt a taught pressure in your groin, catching gale off guard. Moans fell from his lips, as he canted his hips into you. You could feel his cock head nestling near your cervix. Your eyes clamped shut, your thighs steeled around him. He let out another happy groan, buried now balls deep inside of you. You rocked together in earnest, happy sobs leaving your lips as a sweet numbness spread throughout your body.

His breath was warm against your neck, leaving scattered kisses along the alcove. His thrusts became languid, like ocean waves, another orgasm crashed through you. Gale let out a louder hiss, his teeth scraped against the soft skin of your neck.   “At this rate. I’m about to break- can you cum for me once more?”  he whispered against the cusp of your ear. You nodded feverishly, your hands scratching up his spine, he lifted your legs over shoulders using your thighs to brace and stabilize his weight. His thrusts now were sloppy and excitable, kissing your calves and knees.  You reached for him, holding his

hand. His breaths puffing out, as he rutted into you, your knees folded back as he found a rhythm. He began to sputter out, kissing you sloppily, his mouth hot and tongue needy. He cried out, buried deep within you. You felt a warm rush as he rode out his orgasm, another snap within your core had you shattering like a mirror. Another warm rush cascaded around you, dripping down and around his crotch.

“The tap turns!” he exclaims breathless, seated within your heat. He softens inside you, turning you to the side, and flopping next to you.

You felt fresh in your newly laundered robes, they smelt like roses. It seems the bath had a similar effect on your companions. All left contented, a flush of alcohol on their cheeks, and a pep in their newly shiny step.

You held hands with Gale taking your leaves, the less they knew the better.

[togrowoldinv]

She’s Everything

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

You help Natasha relax

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, oral, fingering, cursing

Note: This is soft smut that focuses on Natasha. Enjoy!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist

“What’s on your mind, baby?” You ask your wife.

“Your eyes are closed. How could you possibly know something is on my mind?” Natasha asks, her lips no doubt in the form of a smirk.

“I just know you so well Natasha Romanoff,” you say, opening your eyes to be met with the green ones you so love. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’m okay,” she says. She drops a kiss to your forehead and rubs your back with the arm that’s wrapped around you.

“You were pretty quiet all day. I won’t push, but if there’s something I can help with or just hear you out on, you can always tell me,” you assure her of your intentions.

Nat sighs and looks up at the ceiling before speaking. “It’s just been a stressful few weeks is all. But you’ve been such a calm in the middle of the storm.”

You lean up on your elbow and caress her face with your other hand. Softly, you run your thumb over her cheek and to her lips. She closes her eyes at the feeling of your gentle touch.

“I love you so much, Natasha,” you tell her. You lean down to kiss her. As your lips brush against hers, she pulls you closer to her. Her hand on the back of your neck deepens the kiss.

“Please,” Natasha whispers into the quiet air. “I need you.”

Natasha isn’t one to always admit when she needs your affection. Usually you just know when to give it to her and that’s enough, but tonight she’s exhausted to the point of asking you to take control.

“I’ll take care of you, my love,” you say, dropping another kiss to her lips. This one is longer and deeper.

Your hand sneaks under her shirt hem and you lift it up and over her head. She’s wearing nothing beneath it. Her body never fails to make your heartbeat quicken. She’s so beautiful.

“God, Nat, you’re absolutely gorgeous,” you say as you start to kiss down her neck. She moans in appreciation.

Your kisses move further down her chest until you reach her breasts. As you take one of her nipples in your mouth, your other hand trails down her body to her underwear. With a quick, practiced motion you slip them down her legs.

“Y/n, please,” Natasha begs once again. She’s breathless from the feeling of you all over her but not quite where she needs you most.

“I’ve got you, Natasha.”

It’s then that you move down the bed and bury your face between her legs. Her arousal is evident, but you don’t tease her for it like she sometimes enjoys you doing.

Tonight, you immediately start to place soft licks to her core. Natasha moans your name and reaches down to push your head further into her. You take her clit in your mouth and glance up at her.

She’s completely blissed out and she once again looks so beautiful. You want to stop and tell her but she’s so close already that you decide to continue.

“Fuck, y/n, keep going,” she mumbles as if she can read your mind. Maybe she knows you so well that she can.

You take your fingers and gather some of her wetness before slipping one and then two inside of her to work in tandem with your mouth.

It’s not much longer before you recognize that she’s about to come. You pick up the pace just enough to bring her over the edge but still be gentle with her.

“Fuck! I love you!” Natasha shouts as she cums. You work her down and lick her wetness before moving to kiss her.

“I love you too,” you say as you kiss her with a bit more fervency than you planned.You can’t help but be unbelievably in love with this woman.

“I feel better,” Natasha says with a silly grin as you break the kiss.

“Oh yeah?”

"Yeah. Thank you, detka,” she says.

“Anytime, sweetheart. I’d do anything for you, you know that?”

Nat kisses your head. “I do know that. And I’m so in love with you, y/n.”

“I’m so in love with you, Natasha,” you mirror her sentiment.

It’s the complete truth. The two of you rest there together in silence and just enjoy each other’s company.

Nothing has ever made more sense to you then loving Natasha. She’s everything to you.

Tag List: @gracebutnotgraceful @i-wished-for-you-too @belovaskitkat @be-missed @likefirenrain @hehehehannahthings @mythosphere-x @readings-stuff @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @madamevirgo @milfloverslut @mrswidowjohansson @alotofpockets @ggrangerdanger @maia-lightwoood @xxromanoffxx @peanutbutterprincess @karmasgxrl @picnicmic @wandaslittlewhore @exhaustedfangirl @when-wolves-howl @natashalovers @sammi1642 @the-night-owl-blr @strangegardentaco @avatarsnips @romanoffswoman @natashasilverfox @imthenatynat @sayah13 @rach2602 @cordyandbilliehavemyheart @lovelyy-moonlight @huitzilinthebudgie3 @juicyy444 @youralphawolf72 @btay3115 @red1culous @lenam07 @randomwriter1021 @rightwereyouleftme @natismywife @dumb-fawkin-bitch @natashaswife4125 @karsonromanoff @bookfrog242 @theprinceofmarvel

[afterdarkprincess]

Mine

Pairing: Seth Rollins/Dean Ambrose Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2083 AO3 Link Look at that a finished WIP! This one is just pure unadulterated filth, enjoy at your own discretion 18+ only!!

tag squad: @feelschicken @elementaldoughnut12 @jeysbvck @southerngirl41 @harmshake @imabillyami

This fic is Explicit and contains: Rough Sex, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Fingering, Spit as Lube, Hair Pulling, Slut Shaming, Toxic Relationship (full list on AO3)

----

Seth’s lounging in his personal dressing room backstage, scrolling through his twitter feed, eating up the reactions to his appearance at the end of Smackdown tonight.

He’s still in the tight red leather pants, his legs kicked up on the edge of the couch when there comes a loud demanding knock at the door.

“Go away asshole!” He yells distractedly over his shoulder, uncaring for whoever might be trying to disturb his peace at this time of night. Anybody he gives a shit about has already headed out, and he’s not far behind himself.

The knocks stop and Seth thinks he’s in the clear, but the door busts open with a loud bang, and Seth’s on his feet ready for a fight until he gets a good look at the figure standing in the doorway.

Dean Ambrose, eyes wild and angry and staring holes into Seth’s face.

Seth’s heartbeat roars in his ears as a tidal wave of emotion rolls over him. Excitement, relief, guilt, love, anger from all the years of their tumultuous relationship. Seth will never be free of Dean Ambrose and if he’s being honest with himself, he doesn’t really want to be.

“Dean…” Seth barely breathes his name before he’s storming into the room, slamming the door shut before his hands are at Seth’s throat, pushing him back against the wall roughly.

The sound that escapes his throat is breathy and pathetic, Seth would be ashamed of himself if not for the growing pressure against his windpipe that mirrors the swell of his dick in his pants.

“The fuck you think you’ve been doin’ huh pretty boy?” His breath is hot against Seth’s cheek, and lingering smell of cigarette smoke clouds his senses. “You forget who you belong to? You think I wouldn’t notice you’ve been whoring around?”

Seth shakes his head as best he can with Dean’s hands restricting his movement. “N-no, no-“

“Liar,” Dean licks the sweat from Seth’s brow. “Partnering with Cody Rhodes, runnin’ around actin’ like his little bitch, like you won’t turn on him the second it’s convenient for you.”

“Dean, please-“ He’s fully hard and aching and unsure what he’s even begging for at this point.

His free hand grabs at Seth’s face, roughly squeezing his cheeks. “Doesn’t Rhodes know by now that sluts like you are only good for a warm hole to fuck? How many times have you taken his cock princess?”

Seth’s instinct is to lie and deny everything, but no way that Dean wouldn’t know, and the punishment for lying would be brutal. The three small scars on his ribs, perfect circles the size of a Marlboro serve as a reminder of what good it does lying to Dean Ambrose.

“Ahh, Twice…just twice,” His vision is getting fuzzy and it hurts to speak, and he gasps loudly as finally Dean releases his iron hold on Seth’s throat.

His relief does not last long though.

The hand that had been clutching his throat moves south quickly, tearing at the waistband of his leather pants until they’re down around his knees, freeing his achingly hard dick but keeping him from any kind of escape he might attempt. As if he’d even try.

Satisfied with his work, Dean’s fingers find his hole with expert precision and press inside unforgivingly, wringing a pained moan out of Seth.

It’s the kind of pain Dean knows he craves, the same burning ache that settles into his muscles after a 30 minute match, the kind of pain that leaves him sore but satisfied the next day.

“Tight as usual,” Seth can feel the deep growl of Dean’s voice. “Not surprised, I’ve heard all about that pathetic cock of Cody’s. Figures that you’re such a filthy slut you’ll take any dick you can get. He couldn’t satisfy you, could he sweetheart? I bet you couldn’t even feel that tiny cock inside you, but you moaned like a 2 dollar whore anyway to make him feel good about himself.”

The sting of the truth of Dean’s words hurts more than the fingers roughly exploring his ass.

One grazes against his prostate and Seth cries at how dirty wrong good it feels, his cock weeping precum despite being neglected thus far.

“Please,” he weeps, hair falling into his face and sticking to the salty damp tear tracks. “Oh god, please-“

A third finger works its way inside him.

“You wanna hear a little story? I saw your boy on the way in here.” As the fingers in his ass flex and stretch, Dean’s other hand wraps into the hair at the base of his neck. “You may have got between him and the Big Dog earlier, but we both know Roman doesn’t have the imagination that I do. Gonna be a little difficult for him to finish the story now, but we both know you never gave a fuck about that.”

The continued assault on his prostate has him dangerously close to the edge despite himself, his breath coming in harsh pants as his thoughts fill with all the terrible things Dean could have done to his tag partner. He shuts his eyes tightly, banishing the thoughts of Cody covered in blood from his mind and focuses on the sensations wracking through his body, chasing pleasure and release.

With no warning his hole is empty and his hair is pulled. Seth gasps, disoriented and clenching down on nothing.

He’s shoved unceremoniously over the back of the couch he’d been lounging on earlier, bare ass exposed with his pants now fallen around his ankles. Dean’s fingers never leave Seth’s curls as he circles around, loudly unbuckling his belt and freeing his angry red cock. He’s close enough to Seth’s face that the sticky head smacks him in the cheek.

“You like that? Been a while since you’ve seen a real cock.” Dean guides his dick with one hand to smear precum on Seth’s lips like lipgloss. “You know what to do, your spit’s the only lube you're getting so you better do a good job.”

Seth opens his mouth and latches onto the head of Dean’s cock, suckling it for a moment before taking it further onto his tongue. He can’t help but moan at the unique taste of Dean that fills his senses as he moves his tongue along the prominent vein.

He believes Dean that this will be the only lube he’ll get, so he makes an effort to drool all along the thick length. The grip in his hair tightens, pulling Seth further down with no warning, and he has no choice but to take Dean’s dick into his throat, eyes burning with tears.

Just as his throat begins to relax and adjust to the intrusion there’s a knock at the door.

“Ey Uce! You need a ride outta here, or what?” Jey Uso’s voice comes through the door and Dean rolls his eyes before pulling Seth off his dick.

Seth coughs and sputters before answering, “Nah, M’good man. Go- Go on without me.” He tries to keep his voice even and neutral despite the adrenaline running through him.

“You sure?” Of course he won’t let it be. Jey’s too nice for that.

“Yeah, I’ll catch ya later, uce.” Dean makes a face. Seth prays that it’s enough and that Jey won’t pry further.

There’s no sound for a moment, like Jey’s hesitating for some reason, until finally, “Alrigh’, if you sure. M’gonna go find Cody then. Later, Uce.”

Seth breathes a sigh of relief, but it doesn’t last long. Dean steps away from his face, keeping a tight grip in Seth’s hair, tugging painfully as he moves around the couch. His free hand moves down Seth’s waist and rubs at his exposed ass before giving it a sharp smack.

“Excellent job, princess. Shame all your slobber dried up during your performance.” Dean spits on his hole. “Don’t say I never did anythin’ for ya.”

It’s degrading and humiliating, but fuck if Seth doesn’t nearly cum at the wet feeling of Dean’s spit on his already aching hole.

Then he’s split open as Dean shoves his dick inside in one go, his hips smacking the swell of Seth’s cheeks. He howls as Dean grinds against him, rubbing Seth’s prostate in a delicious mix of pleasure and pain.

He’s open and raw, a ripe oyster cracked open for Dean’s pleasure, ready to be slurped up, devoured and savored. All thought leaves his mind as Dean pulls out and thrusts back in sharply, setting a punishing pace.

Dean’s tongue laves at the tattoo on his spine, biting and nipping at the meat of his back, hard enough to hurt but not bleed. He’s still holding onto Seth’s hair, using it as leverage as he pounds into him, while the other hand finds its way to Seth’s chest, pinching and tugging at his nipples.

Seth’s so close already, the tension in his stomach like a hot coil ready to burst. He unclenches his hand from the back of the couch, stiff from the death grip he’s been holding and tries to reach down towards his cock.

SMACK

He jumps from the shock of the stinging pain on his ass, and Dean’s fingers wrap around the hand he was going to use to try and come, yanking and twisting his arm painfully behind his back.

“You’ll come from my cock or not at all,” Dean growls.

Seth feels tears leaking from his eyes in frustration. Dean’s dick is hitting his prostate like a bullseye at each thrust, and it’s so much but not quite enough to send him shattering apart.

Dean yanks harder on his hair, his back bowing even further and his head twisting to one side at the angle, exposing one side of his throat. Then he’s there, his breath hot against the delicate skin of Seth’s throat.

“Is this what you thought about when Cody fucked you? Closed your eyes and pretended it was me filling you up right?”

Seth nods as best he can, whines escaping his lips with each breath in lieu of words.

“Well don’t worry, I’m here now baby. Gonna remind you,” Dean’s lips meet his skin. “Ro,” Another kiss. “Cody,” Another. “The whole locker room.” A quick dart of his tongue. “Fuck, the whole world, who you belong to.”

“Yours, yours, D-dean, fuck please-“ He’s babbling now more than anything else.

“Thats right, you’re mine.” It’s punctuated with a sharp bite to his earlobe at the end of another vicious unforgiving thrust, and Seth can only hold on as he hurtles over the edge.

He shoots his cum all over the back of the couch, shaking as his orgasm wracks through his body. Dean buries his cock inside him a few more times before shooting his own seed deep inside of Seth’s hole, adding to the sensations that wrack his body and marking him further.

Seth breathes hard as Dean finally pulls out, leaving him shaking and empty. Dean chuckles behind him as he tries to stand. “No wonder it was an easy slide,” He gestures to the streaks of blood that stain his softening cock.

His hole clenches painfully, he’s certainly going to be feeling this for days, but at least he’s gotten off easier than Cody. He makes it to standing, but his knees buckle beneath him, and he can’t even bring himself to try to catch his fall.

He’s accepting that he’s about to faceplant when Dean’s arms wrap around him, saving him from the impact and scooping him up. Seth grabs onto Dean’s neck to stabilize himself, but finds himself paralyzed by the way Dean’s looking at him.

Gone is the anger and fury that he saw earlier, that fed his rough treatment of Seth, replaced by a somewhat bashful look, as if he’s embarrassed now of his earlier behavior.

“You uhhh, good there?” Awkward as ever when it comes to communicating outside of the heat of the moment. Seth feels his chest swell with fondness, their bond may be absolutely bat shit crazy, but no one gets him like Dean and no one gets Dean like him.

He nods, grinning. “Yeah, M’good now-I got my big strong guy to keep me going.”

“Damn right! What you say we get outta here? Got a hotel room with a fluffy robe that’s got your name all over it sweetheart.”

Seth rolls his eyes, but doesn’t have any room to argue considering his current predicament. “Yeah, let’s get outta here.”

--- Thank you for reading!!! 💖💖

[rabbitenn]

HIS GUARDIAN ANGEL.

After TRIGGER’s street performance, rain ones are not the only droplets sliding down your boyfriend’s cheeks. Luckily, you’re there to hold him.

ft. Kujo Tenn x gn! reader.

cw/genre: angst to fluff, hurt/comfort.

A steely sky seems to come crashing down.

Bright pink light sticks are clutched in your hands, your grip knuckle-white.

You find yourself amidst a crowd, yet on this instant, all you can hear are the hammering thumps of your heart.

Not the falling rain, nor the whispers, or noises of faraway passing cars.

Only your heart aching for him and the silent moments before he steps onto the stage again.

It hasn’t even been five minutes since your arms wrapped around Kujo Tenn’s figure backstage, as he mirrored your actions, his way of wordlessly promising to make you happy with his singing.

The fleeting kiss you shared still lingers on your lips, tingling when his maroon gaze finds you on the first row amongst a sea of hooded faces.

And then, as you always do, you fall prey to your angel’s charm.

Not even the rumors surrounding TRIGGER lately or such a heavy downpour could ever put a damper on the way Tenn moves on stage.

Fuchsia tinted lights glint off of him like haloed wings, fusing with his groupmates’ colors as they all are in perfect sync.

Under the spell of TRIGGER, you wave your light sticks in tune with your lover, as if you were a lighthouse steering him to safer waters.

A thousand feelings battle in your heart: rage at the people who caused him and his friends all this pain; hurt, because of where they used to be and where they’re now; happiness, because Tenn is singing again, and you’re here to witness it.

Wetness, not from the rain, pools in your lashline the moment their performance comes to an end.

Cheers and shouts of ‘encore’ fill the tempestuous evening.

Instants after, however, all of it would feel like faraway static to you.

With widened eyes and your heartbeat at a standstill, the sight before you pierces your heart.

Crystal clear droplets cling to your boyfriend’s long eyelashes.

Not rain drops. Tears.

Tenn is crying.

Tenn is crying and metal hurdles, a stage, and the public eye are keeping you apart from him right now.

You want nothing more than to run towards him and throw your arms around him, being his warmth to fend off the storm.

Amidst a clamor that utters his name, Tenn’s next statement causes for your gaze to mimic his own, the city lights reflecting on the tear-tracks running down your cheeks now.

“I’m so glad I’m singing.” The idol claims, the moon above reflected in his melancholy smile, not unlike the one on your lips right now.

And then you find yourself running backstage, as the figures of Gaku and Ryu shield your angel from prying eyes.

And then a gasp of “Tenn!” is on your lips, as he feels the air knocked out of him, your body colliding with his own.

He leans his head against the crook of your neck, his tears, yours, and the rain mixing together in your shared embrace.

The modern day angel can feel your shoulders shaking against his form, when he utters:

“I’m sorry for making you cry.”

Your teary stare levels with his. And even though Tenn looks undoubtedly ethereal with tears streaming down his face, the sight of him resembling a kicked kitten breaks your heart.

“Don’t apologize, silly.” You give him a smile, fingers reaching up to thumb his tears away. Quartz-like eyes crinkle up a little, his fair eyebrows upturned. “You were perfect tonight, Tenn.” You continue, brushing damp strands of snowy hair away from his pretty face. “Whether you’re singing on the grandest arena, on a dark alley, or just for me, you’ll always be my number one, my love.” You tell him, as one of your hands finds his, fingers slotting together.

You squeeze them reassuringly.

He squeezes your hand back.

“[Y/n]?” Your boyfriend prompts, your eyes on his an indication for him to go on. “I promise to make you smile next time.”

“You already do, my Tenn.” Your index finger brushes over the pink of his lower lip. “Every day.”

His response comes in the form of a faint smile and a feather-light kiss to the crown of your head.

After that, you pull away a little, tucking some rebellious strands of starlight woven hair behind his ear.

“Now, how does omurice and donuts at my place sound? I baked your favorite myself this time.” You suggest, tone soft, swinging your hands that hold onto his between the both of you.

“Absolutely perfect.” Comes your lover’s reply, dilated pupils utterly mesmerized by your tender expression.

As you and your partner make your way out of the venue hand in hand, the knowing smiles of his two friends – who’ve been listening this whole time – soften. Perhaps they won’t tease him too much this time.

♡

Hours later, you and Tenn would find yourselves safely tucked in your bed, your arms around his slender figure as he peacefully sleeps, cheek resting on your chest. Fingers delicately brushing silken locks away from his face, your lips leave a barely there kiss to his temple.

Maybe for tonight, you could be Tenn’s angel instead, invisible wings enveloping him in a melody of warmth.

[starlightwielded]

♢ . SHAKESPEARE AESTHETIC. mordred edition.

romeo & juliet. suburban july. scraped knees. bruised knuckles. blood in your teeth. bare feet on hot concrete. restlessness. your high school’s empty parking lot. love poems in your diary. a window open to coax in the breeze. burning inside. an ill - fitting party dress. a t - shirt you cut up yourself. the time you tried to give yourself bangs. biking to your friends house. bubble gum. gas station ice. the feeling that you’ve met before. rebellion. a car radio playing down the street. cheap fireworks. a heart drawn on the inside of your wrist with a sharpie. switchblades. red solo cups. dancing in your bedroom. screaming yourself hoarse. running out of options. the forlorn looking basketball hoop at the end of a cul - de - sac. climbing onto your roof at night while your parents are asleep. flip - flops. a eulogy written on loose - leaf. the merciless noontime sun.

hamlet. speaking in a whisper. holding your breath. a browning garden.a half remembered story. furniture covered with sheets. fog at dawn. mist at twilight. losing touch. the ethereal space between winter and spring. the soft skin at your temple. the crack in the hallway mirror. things you’d say if you knew the words. uncombed hair. books with writing in the margins. books with cracked spines. books with lines scratched out. prayers on all souls’ day. a chipped ceramic bathtub. a cold stone floor. the uncomfortable awareness of your own heartbeat. the sparrow that got in your house. shadows. the creek you played in as a child. a dirty night gown. an oversized t - shirt. a collection of your favorite words. soil beneath your nails. ghost stories. the strangeness of your own name in your mouth. deep silence. exhaustion. a cliff with a long, long drop down.

twelfth night. wicker deck furniture. new england summer. large sunglasses and a blonde bob. a storm over the ocean. patio umbrellas flapping in the wind. the smell of chlorine. muffled laughter. sarcasm. starched cuffs. day drinking. bay windows. the idea of love. love for the idea of love. love for love’s sake. hangovers. wandering over the sand dunes. a vagabond with a guitar. fishermen with tattoos. a pretty boy with a slacked tie. a lighthouse. growing too close. boat shoes. feeling yourself change. big, floppy sunhats. double - speak. a song you keep listening to. turning red under their gaze. margaritas drank on an inflatable pool lounger. string lights on a balmy night. sleepy june days. fights you’re unprepared for. hope you weren’t expecting. pranks that go too far. bad poetry. pining. becoming less of a stranger.

macbeth. the space where your grief used to be. a bird that’s lost an eye. old blood stains. heavy blinds. the smell of sweat. the stillness after a battle. a fake smile. a curse. the taste of metal at the back of your tongue. your house, unfamiliar in the dark. a dusty crib. the smell of sulfur. an orange pill bottle. streaks in the sink. a black cocktail dress. your hand on the doorknob, shaking. a chilly breeze. crunching from the gravel driveway on a moonless night. clenched hands. a rusty swing set. a flashing digital clock stuck on 12 : 00. a snake that crosses your path. an owl that watches you. a dog that runs when you approach. red smoke, dark clouds. cool steel. tile floors. footsteps in the hallway late at night. a baggy suit that used to fit before. visions. insomnia headaches. nursery rhymes. being too far in to go back now.

much ado about nothing. the high drama of small towns. a pickup truck. military supply duffel bags in the hall. hugs all around. tulip bulbs. a wraparound porch. a pitcher of iced tea. a rubber halloween mask. someone on your level. ill - timed proclamations. stomach clenching laughter. rushing in. not minding your business. crepe paper. white lies. secrets written down and thrown away. southern hospitality. homemade curtains in the kitchen. a sink full of roses. hiding in the bushes. old friends. the wedding dress your grandma wore, and her mama before her. a dog - eared rhyming dictionary. chamomile with honey. the intimacy of big parties. lawn flamingos. gossip. a crowded church. friendly rivalries. unfriendly rivalries. shit getting real. love at five hundredth sight. not realizing you’re home until you’re there.

king lear. cement block buildings. power lines that birds never perch on. the end of the world. useless words. rainless thunder, heat lighting, a too big sky. arthritic knuckles. broken glass. chalk cliffs. the pulsing red - black behind closed eyes. something you learned too late. wet mud that sucks up your shoes while you walk. a cold stare. empty picture frames. empty prayers. the obscenity of seeing your parents cry. a treeless landscape. bloody rags. grappling in the dark with reaching hands. the sharpness at the the tips of your teeth. the blown out windows of a skeletal house. decay. jokes that aren’t jokes. biting your tongue. prophecies. aching muscles, tired feet. stinging rain. invoking the gods. wondering if the gods are listening. worrying that the gods are dead. white noise. shivers. numbness. the unequivocal feeling of ending.

a midsummer night’s dream. the smell of wet soil and dead leaves. listening to music on headphones with your eyes closed. wildflowers. the distant sparkle of lightning bugs. a pill someone slipped you. fear that turns into excitement. excitement that turns to frenzy. mossy tree trunks. a pair of yellow eyes in the darkness. night swimming. moonlight through the leaves. a bass beat in your chest. a butterfly landing on your nose. a kiss from a stranger. a dark hallow in an old tree. glow in the dark paint. drinking on an empty stomach. a twig breaking behind you. spinning until you’re dizzy. finding glitter on your body and not remembering where it came from. an overgrown path through the woods. cool dew on your skin. a dream that fades with waking. moths drawn to the light. giving yourself over, completely. afterglow. the long, loving, velvety night.

tagged by: @ashmored ! tagging: @witchdoctrines / @halfcaped / @noonesoldier, @witchhaunts / @fa1rytells , @playbarbies . @forwardmoved / @dorkustm , @nofooltadius , @grizzwalds , @chmarva , @grizzwalds & YOU! steal it! tag me!

[stormfuryd]

LADY RHAEANA BARATHEON OF STORM’S END

[sugarrspice]

You KNOW I gotta go for "summoning gone wrong" with Antiaverage! How could I not? :)c -A

Pfft, what a wonderful way to start off the Halloween bash!

The first thing that Anti hears is, somewhat fittingly, oh hell. His balance is still off, his senses compressed down to a fine point of white noise, but even from here, he can smell fear thick as blood, as the rot that's made itself at home in his bones.

That'd be the little sheep's second mistake.

Without ever opening his eyes, he reaches, rooting himself in the rabbit-quick heartbeat that echoes around them. Flickering sparks of warm umber and gold play around the edges of the blackness of his vision, and for a moment, just a moment, Anti is trapped in the cooling warmth of a dying body, Jackwenttumblingdown, before he rips himself free with a snarl, wheeling to find the fool that thought they could bind him.

They're in... a lot. A chain of abandoned storefronts stretches out to either side of them; he can hear the thunder of cars tearing down a highway beyond their sight. Across the strip of concrete, a man crouches, blue eyes wide with terror; he's white-knuckling onto a mirror, and Anti briefly traces the straining tendons under his skin, considers how slowly he wants to choke him with them. Chase, the fall coolth whispers in his ears, and oh, poor fool, hadn't even bothered to hide his name. Soot stains the ends of his fingers, and the cloying smell of honey and belladonna reaches him, next, and Anti allows this knowledge to pull his lips into a smile, brilliant and cruel.

There's no circle to restrain his movement. He lazily steps forward, watches with glee as the man scrambles to his feet to put an equal distance between them.

Maybe he will have some fun, first. Jack had been no fun, had never been afraid, only had gripped his face with a cool and clinical hand, had trapped his fingers between his own to search for a pulse while Anti had rattled at the edges of the snare he'd unwittingly set.

"Congratulations," he can't help but needle, and prowls forward another step. The night has frozen around them, and the man with it; he's close enough he can make out the whites of his eyes, luminous in the chilly dark. Another step forward and he'll be able to trace their pulsing veins, watch them pop pop pop under his careful attentions, watch the blood spill like an inkstain through his sclera. "You wanted me. You got me. Do you know what you're going to do with me?"

He's no silvertongue, no orator. Anti is everything that shouldn't be; the squirming wrongness of blood seeping through their fingers, the glistening of wet muscle and the heavy, all-knowing weight of the dark. He is certainly not meant for their little world, fragile in its balance, nor for the soft hearts of men whose tongues stutter in his mere appearance. Words are meaningless; he speaks with his hands, deft with his pretty little blade. When he speaks, he tears the night from its frozen vigil, and Chase starts again, but remains rooted. Cowardice-- or bravery-- they all look the same.

And then the brave, cowardly, stupid little man opens his mouth, and says, "what the fuck do you mean, I wanted you?"

This is so profoundly not what Anti is expecting that he actually stops in his tracks, and he's not quite sure what his expression is doing, but whatever it is, it is unwelcome. He rallies, flicks clawed fingers in a dismissive gesture. Sixty four gleaming teeth glint in the dying moonlight; there's a storm coming, Anti can feel the anticipation winding tighter under his skin, and he pulls the gale in to whip at their hair, sharp ozone stinging their noses.

"Second thoughts? Vengeance is usually uglier than what you're willing to cavort with."

Chase stares some more, and now, rather than afraid, he just looks confused. Irritated, maybe, though his heart is clocking a cool one hundred and eight beats a minute.

"Vengeance is us- dude! Dude, no! I'm not- look, I'm not here to curse someone, or kill them, I just needed to talk to somebody!"

Anti stares blankly. He stares back, brow pinched; fear still tangles his words up into knots, but he's not running, not blustering for his life.

Anti should kill him for his presumption.

He wants to know more.

Chase must misinterpret his silence, and waves the hand not gripping onto his mirror, scowling. "Not you for the record, before you get all smart and spooky on me."

"Smart and spooky," Anti echoes, flatly, and digs one clawed finger into his own palm to be sure he's not fucking hallucinating. He wouldn't put it past Desmarais, the clever little sadist.

In the midst of his reality check, Chase looks at the mirror. Looks back at him, and takes a deep breath, fiddling with the filigreed edge. "Look. I don't know what you mean, called you. I'm just looking to talk to someone. If you know how to--"

This, at least, is ground that Anti is familiar with. He rolls his neck, and slips sideways into the night air, reaching for Chase's warmth, slinging himself out of the etherspace to wrap an arm around Chase's hips with a leer.

"If I know how to," he mocks, and nestles his chin right on Chase's shoulders. A parody of a loving embrace, it puts his teeth right besides Chase's neck, and they both know it. "Maybe I do, who's to say?"

What are you willing to pay, they both hear, and Chase takes in one deep, steeling breath.

Then he tips his neck sideways, baring the full pale stretch to Anti, and Anti raises both eyebrows at the offer made. A life for a life is more binding a contract than even Desmarais will bother with.

No, he's curious, now.

"Cute," he muses, aloud, and folds himself neatly into Chase's shadow, shakes himself out of the slender shadows across the shingled roof above Chase. He slings one leg over another, the very image of ease. "Well, Chase. Don't keep a man waiting; erstwhile lover? Child, parent?"

Chase meets his eyes, mouth pressed into a firm line, and says, quietly, "friend."

Anti revises, yet again, his initial impression, from idiocy, to intrigue, back firmly into the realm of foolishness.

A life is a life, he tells himself, yet again, and he leans forward, and says, "tell me more." A life is a life, and he stays.

[lost-jams]

Brushes And Beats chapter 13

pairing: JiminxReader

genre: fluff with a pinch of angst

trope: enemies to lovers

:ever thought of the past and wished to re-do it?:

Jimin's Pov

3 years ago,

December 20th, 2020;

We were shooting the music video for my latest single, we are currently on location with snow-covered mountains and sea beneath us. The cold air nipped at my skin, but it was nothing compared to the storm brewing within me whenever she was around. I must have gone truly crazy, to have my temperature rise in this cold weather whenever she was nearby.

What the hell is wrong with me? It was just an ordinary day on set, and It was pretty normal to have my makeup done by her, Why am I feeling this way?

I couldn't help but let out a sharp breath whenever I passed by her, catching a glimpse of her beauty reflected in the mirror as she focused on perfecting each stroke of makeup on someone else's face. Her presence was captivating, and I found myself drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

The sun was setting on the horizon, casting a warm glow over the snowy landscape, mirroring the warmth that blossomed inside me whenever I caught sight of her smiling face. All of us gathered around taking in the breathtaking scenery,

In the embrace of my thoughts, my hungry gaze fell ravenously on Y/n. She was but a silhouette against the horizon, bathed in the softness of the setting sun's goodbyes. The captivating sparkle in her eyes mirrored the cosmos, outshining the stars that the coming night was slowly weaving into the azure tapestry above. I was entranced, ensnared in the mesmerizing dance of twilight in her gazed-upon irises.

Cheeks kissed by the day's frosty lullaby were painted a shy rosé, warmed by the departing sun's final ballet of light. A touch of the same color graced her nose, glowing with an innocent vibrancy that sent an unspoken invitation to join her in the intimate communion with the sun's final sonnet. She was a silhouette of perfection, adorned in the last vestiges of grand illumination the world held onto.

Each soft tendril of her hair nonchalantly brushed aside, teased a melody in the temperate breeze. The last strokes of sunlight obediently traced each curve of her features. She was ethereal, as if an angel graced the earth with her presence, whispering a sonnet to the horizon.

I felt my heartbeats playing a symphony of longing, each beat whispering her name. The simple sight of her — absorbed, resplendent, enchantingly immersed in the golden goodbye — pricked at my untouched sentiments, each a couplet of a love poem waiting to be read. This perfectly framed vista of Y/n, serenading the setting sun, unleashed a profound fervor in my chest, a feeling so powerful, it threatened to consume me entirely. Her rapture in the sunset acted as a catalyst, alchemizing my longing into a feeling I can't explain — It was something you have to experience yourself

It's a Serenity

It is Magical

It's an Epiphany

One's Serendipity

A Euphoria

It is Passion.

2 months later,

"Birdy you thinking about flying?"

"Y/n?"

"Y/n get away!!"

Seeing Y/n standing at the edge of the cliff, my heart clenched in my chest. The paleness of her face haunted me; a stark contrast to the striking landscape behind her amplified by her despair. The wind whipped through her hair as she gazed into the abyss, a testament to how she must've been feeling inside. Anger surged through my veins as I thought about the pain that was inflicted on her.

Panic surged through me as she was very close the edge of the precipice. She was looking down, silhouetted against the chilling winds, her frame unyielding yet ominously fragile. My heart pounded in my chest like a wild drum, each beat ringing with enormous fear and unsettling anger.

Fear, because the mere thought of her plummeting into the abyss was a horror I couldn't bear. Her potential brush with danger stoked a protective instinct in me, stronger than anything I'd ever known. I was paralyzed by this sudden jump of adrenaline, my breathing came ragged and uncontrolled.

And anger, not at her, never at her, but at the world that had pushed her to teeter on the edge of despair. I was filled with a rage so potent, it threatened to consume me. My stomach churned with it, my fingers clenched involuntarily into fists. How cruel could the universe be, to leave a scar on someone as beautiful and kind-hearted as Y/n? The unfairness of it all made my blood boil.

"No..." I whispered, my plea carried away by the cold wind. I forced myself to move, panic lending me speed. "Not her. Not Y/n." That moment, the image of Y/n standing lonesomely at the precipice seared into my memory, a terrible echo of my deepest fears and anguishes.

______________________________________________________________

"Your recklessness wouldn't affect just you. It also affects the people around you. But you never think about it, do you?”

"Jim-"

"Save it, Y/n"

I snapped, my frustration boiling over. My words carried a sharp sting, fueled by the fear and anger that had been bubbling beneath the surface. It was an outburst I instantly regretted, but in that moment, the weight of my emotions overwhelmed any semblance of control. As the words left my lips, a heavy silence settled between us.

As we stood there, locked in a silence filled with tension and regret, I could see the hurt flickering in Y/n's eyes. Her expression softened, a vulnerable glimmer of pain shining through. My heart sank at the sight of her wounded gaze, and guilt washed over me like a tidal wave. It had me face to face with those parts of myself that I had tried to bury, to dismiss. And what’s worse is, in that moment, I realized that my outburst stemmed from my own insecurities and fears.

That year was undeniably the longest and most grueling I'd ever experienced. Time seemed to stretch into an unending void, each day filled with silence where once laughter and conversation had occupied.

Work, which I had once loved as an exciting escape, started to feel more and more like a cumbersome chain. The pressure to continuously perform and improve felt colossal, only amplifying the deafening quietness in my personal life. Every performance, every firm handshake, and smile gradually became harder to produce, the echo of Y/n's absence a constant reminder of my failings.

The ceaseless demands of my career began to weigh on me, a relentless movement of days marked by hectic schedules and sleepless nights. The glamour and fame, which once exhilarated me, now felt draining. And Y/n's absence hung over me, a specter that was invisible to others, but painfully evident to me.

Regret was a constant sting, gnawing at my calm, reminding me of the words I should've said, the solace I could've offered. Y/n's face would uninvitedly creep into my thoughts, her glossy eyes shimmering with withheld emotions and hushed sighs. My heart would turn into a turbulent sea besieged by a surge of regret and self-reproof. I had let my fear, cloaked in anger, push her away.

Loneliness — my forever friend — had cast a daunting shadow over me. Surrounded by throngs of fans and yet, an unsettling hollowness prevailed, rendering me isolated in a crowd. That's when I realized the intensity of my feelings for her. Her absence wasn't just a missing friendly face; it was the missing piece of a puzzle that completed me.

The dread of losing her even as a friend, the heart-wrenching despair of not being able to help the person you care about began eating away at me. It was a painful lesson learned

in the harshest way; a year of harrowing solitude and introspection, interspersed with rigorous work demands. But within all of it, a realization hung heavily - I loved her, no I love her. And that love enveloped every strand of my being, defining the extent of my sorrow in her absence

One year passed without much interaction between us. She needed her space, and I had tight work schedules. The occasional glances we exchanged were often filled with unsaid words, and unexpressed emotions. Looking back, I should have pushed aside my professional commitments a bit more. I could have been there for her in a way that was more than just professional. I would have held her close and told her that it was okay to fall apart because she was not alone.

She never was.

to be continued...

chapter 12 || chapter 14

[ultfan]

SHAKESPEARE AESTHETICS

ROMEO & JULIET:

suburban  july.  scraped  knees.  bruised  knuckles.  blood in your teeth.  bare feet  on  hot  concrete.  restlessness.  your  high  school’s  empty  parking lot.  love  poems  in  your  diary.  a  window  open  to  coax  in  the  breeze.  burning  inside. an  ill - fitting  party  dress. a  t - shirt  you  cut  up  yourself. the  time  you  tried  to  give  yourself  bands. biking  to  your  friends  house.  bubble gum.  gas  station  ice. the  feeling  that  you've  met  before.  rebellion.  a  car  radio  playing  down  the  street.  cheap  fireworks. a  heart  drawn  on  the  inside  of  your  wrist  with  a  sharpie. switchblades. red  solo  cups. dancing  in  your  bedroom. screaming  yourself  hoarse.  running out of options. the  forlorn  looking  basketball  hoop  at  the  end  of  a  cul - de - sac. climbing onto your  roof at night  while your parents  are asleep. flip - flops.  a  eulogy  written on  loose - leaf. the  merciless  noontime  sun.

HAMLET:  

speaking in a whisper. holding your breath. a  browning  garden. a half remembered story. furniture covered in sheets.  fog at dawn,  mist at twilight. losing touch. the  ethereal  space  between  winter  and  spring. the  soft  skin  at  your  temple. the  crack  in  the  hallway mirror. things you'd say if you knew the words. uncombed  hair.  books  with  writing  in  the  margins.  books  with  cracked  spines. books  with  lines  scratched  out. prayers  on  all  souls’  day.  a  chipped ceramic  bathtub.  a cold stone floor. the uncomfortable awareness  of your own  heartbeat. the  sparrow  that  got  in  your  house. shadows. the  creek  you  played  in  as  a  child. a  dirty  night  gown. an  oversized  t - shirt. a  collection  of  your  favorite  words.  soil  beneath  your  nails. ghost  stories. the strangeness of  your own name  in your mouth. deep  silence. exhaustion. a  cliff  with  a  long,  long  drop  down.

TWELFTH NIGHT:    

wicker  deck  furniture. new  england  summer. large  sunglasses  and  a  blonde  bob. a  storm  over  the  ocean. patio  umbrellas. flapping  in  the  wind. the  smell  of  chlorine. muffled  laughter. sarcasm. starched  cuffs. day  drinking.  bay  windows. the  idea  of  love. love  for  the  idea  of  love. love  for  love’s  sake. hangovers. wandering  over  the  sand  dunes. a  vagabond  with  a  guitar. fishermen  with  tattoos. a  pretty  boy  with  a  slacked  tie.  a  lighthouse.  growing  too close. boat  shoes. feeling  yourself change. big,  floppy  sunhats. double - speak. a  song  you  keep  listening  to. turning  red  under  their  gaze. margaritas  drank  on  an  inflatable  pool  lounger. string  lights  on  a  balmy  night. sleepy  june  days. fights you're  unprepared for.  hope  you  weren’t  expecting. pranks  that  go  too  far.  bad  poetry. pining.  becoming  less  of  a  stranger.

MACBETH:    

the space where  your grief used  to be. a  bird  that's  lost an eye. old blood stains. heavy blinds. the  smell  of  sweat. the stillness after a battle. a  fake  smile. a  curse. the  taste  of  metal  at  the  back  of  your  tongue. your  house,  unfamiliar  in  the  dark. a  dusty  crib. the smell of sulfur. an orange pill bottle. streaks  in  the  sink. a  black  cocktail  dress. your hand on  the doorknob,  shaking. a chilly breeze. crunching from the gravel  driveway on a  moonless night. clenched  hands. a  rusty  swing  set. a  flashing  digital  clock  stuck  on  12 : 00. a  snake  that  crosses  your  path. an  owl  that  watches  you. a  dog  that  runs  when  you  approach. red  smoke,  dark  clouds. cool  steel.  tile  floors.  footsteps  in  the  hallway  late  at  night. a  baggy  suit  that  used  to  fit  before.  visions. insomnia headaches. nursery  rhymes.  being too far in to go back now.

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING:  

the  high  drama  of  small  towns. a  pickup  truck. military  supply  duffel  bags  in  the  hall,  hugs  all  around. tulip  bulbs. a  wraparound  porch. a  pitcher  of  iced  tea. a  rubber  halloween  mask. someone  on  your  level.  ill - timed  proclamations. stomach  clenching  laughter. rushing  in. not  minding  your  business. crepe  paper. white lies. secrets written  down and thrown  away. southern  hospitality. homemade  curtains  in  the  kitchen. a  sink  full  of  roses. hiding  in  the  bushes. old  friends. the  wedding  dress  your  grandma  wore,  and  her  mama  before  her. a  dog - eared  rhyming  dictionary. chamomile  with  honey. the  intimacy  of  big  parties. lawn  flamingos. gossip. a  crowded  church. friendly  rivalries. unfriendly  rivalries. shit  getting  real. love  at  five  hundredth  sight. not realizing  you're home  until you're  there.

KING LEAR:

cement  block  buildings. power  lines  that  birds  never  perch  on. the end of  the  world. useless  words. rainless  thunder,  heat  lighting,  a  too  big  sky. arthritic  knuckles. broken  glass. chalk  cliffs. the  pulsing  red - black  behind  closed  eyes. something you  learned too late. wet  mud  that  sucks  up  your  shoes  while  you  walk. a cold stare. empty  picture  frames. empty  prayers. the  obscenity  of  seeing  your  parents  cry. a  treeless  landscape. bloody rags. grappling in the dark  with reaching hands. the sharpness  at  the  tips  of  your  teeth. the  blown  out  windows  of  a  skeletal  house. decay. jokes  that  aren’t  jokes. biting  your  tongue. prophecies. aching  muscles,  tired  feet. stinging  rain. invoking  the  gods. wondering  if  the  gods  are  listening. worrying  that  the  gods  are  dead. white  noise. shivers. numbness. the  unequivocal  feeling  of  ending.

A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM:    

the  smell  of  wet  soil  and  dead  leaves. listening  to  music  on  headphones  with  your  eyes  closed. wildflowers. the  distant  sparkle  of  lightning  bugs. a pill someone  slipped  you. fear  that  turns  into  excitement. excitement  that  turns  to  frenzy. mossy  tree  trunks. a pair  of yellow  eyes  in  the  darkness. night  swimming. moonlight  through  the  leaves. a  bass  beat  in  your  chest. a  butterfly  landing  on  your  nose. a  kiss  from  a  stranger. a  dark  hallow  in  an  old  tree. glow  in  the  dark  paint. drinking  on  an  empty  stomach. a  twig  breaking  behind  you. spinning  until  you’re  dizzy. finding  glitter  on  your  body  and  not  remembering  where  it  came  from.  an  overgrown  path  through  the  woods. cool  dew  on  your  skin. a dream that  fades  with  waking. moths  drawn  to  the  light. giving yourself  over,  completely. afterglow. the  long,  loving,  velvety  night.

[sordidery]

∘ ▫ ♚ richard campbell gansey iii & shakespeare aesthetics.

romeo & juliet. suburban july. scraped knees. bruised knuckles. blood in your teeth. bare feet on hot concrete. restlessness. your high school’s empty parking lot. love poems in your diary. a window open to coax in the breeze. burning inside. an ill - fitting party dress. a t - shirt you cut up yourself. the time you tried to give yourself bangs. biking to your friends house. bubble gum. gas station ice. the feeling that you’ve met before. rebellion. a car radio playing down the street. cheap fireworks. a heart drawn on the inside of your wrist with a sharpie. switchblades. red solo cups. dancing in your bedroom. screaming yourself hoarse. running out of options. the forlorn looking basketball hoop at the end of a cul - de - sac. climbing onto your roof at night while your parents are asleep. flip - flops. a eulogy written on loose - leaf. the merciless noontime sun.

hamlet. speaking in a whisper. holding your breath. a browning garden. a half remembered story. furniture covered with sheets. fog at dawn. mist at twilight. losing touch. the ethereal space between winter and spring. the soft skin at your temple. the crack in the hallway mirror. things you'd say if you knew the words. uncombed hair. books with writing in the margins. books with cracked spines. books with lines scratched out. prayers on all souls' day. a chipped ceramic bathtub. a cold stone floor. the uncomfortable awareness of your own heartbeat. the sparrow that got in your house. shadows. the creek you played in as a child. a dirty night gown. an oversized t - shirt. a collection of your favorite words. soil beneath your nails. ghost stories. the strangeness of your own name in your mouth. deep silence. exhaustion. a cliff with a long, long drop down.

twelfth night. wicker deck furniture. new england summer. large sunglasses and a blonde bob. a storm over the ocean. patio umbrellas flapping in the wind. the smell of chlorine. muffled laughter. sarcasm. starched cuffs. day drinking. bay windows. the idea of love. love for the idea of love. love for love's sake. hangovers. wandering over the sand dunes. a vagabond with a guitar. fishermen with tattoos. a pretty boy with a slacked tie. a lighthouse. growing too close. boat shoes. feeling yourself change. big, floppy sunhats. double - speak. a song you keep listening to. turning red under their gaze. margaritas drank on an inflatable pool lounger. string lights on a balmy night. sleepy june days. fights you're unprepared for. hope you weren’t expecting. pranks that go too far. bad poetry. pining. becoming less of a stranger.

macbeth. the space where your grief used to be. a bird that’s lost an eye. old blood stains. heavy blinds. the smell of sweat. the stillness after a battle. a fake smile. a curse. the taste of metal at the back of your tongue. your house, unfamiliar in the dark. a dusty crib. the smell of sulfur. an orange pill bottle. streaks in the sink. a black cocktail dress. your hand on the doorknob, shaking. a chilly breeze. crunching from the gravel driveway on a moonless night. clenched hands. a rusty swing set. a flashing digital clock stuck on 12:00. a snake that crosses your path. an owl that watches you. a dog that runs when you approach. red smoke, dark clouds. cool steel. tile floors. footsteps in the hallway late at night. a baggy suit that used to fit before. visions. insomnia headaches. nursery rhymes. being too far in to go back now.

much ado about nothing. the high drama of small towns. a pickup truck. military supply duffel bags in the hall. hugs all around. tulip bulbs. a wraparound porch. a pitcher of iced tea. a rubber halloween mask. someone on your level. ill - timed proclamations. stomach clenching laughter. rushing in. not minding your business. crepe paper. white lies. secrets written down and thrown away. southern hospitality. homemade curtains in the kitchen. a sink full of roses. hiding in the bushes. old friends. the wedding dress your grandma wore, and her mama before her. a dog - eared rhyming dictionary. chamomile with honey. the intimacy of big parties. lawn flamingos. gossip. a crowded church. friendly rivalries. unfriendly rivalries. shit getting real. love at five hundredth sight. not realizing you're home until you’re there.

king lear. cement block buildings. power lines that birds never perch on. the end of the world. useless words. rainless thunder, heat lighting, a too big sky. arthritic knuckles. broken glass. chalk cliffs. the pulsing red - black behind closed eyes. something you learned too late. wet mud that sucks up your shoes while you walk. a cold stare. empty picture frames. empty prayers. the obscenity of seeing your parents cry. a treeless landscape. bloody rags. grappling in the dark with reaching hands. the sharpness at the tips of your teeth. the blown out windows of a skeletal house. decay. jokes that aren't jokes. biting your tongue. prophecies. aching muscles, tired feet. stinging rain. invoking the gods. wondering if the gods are listening. worrying that the gods are dead. white noise. shivers. numbness. the unequivocal feeling of ending.

a midsummer night’s dream. the smell of wet soil and dead leaves. listening to music on headphones with your eyes closed. wildflowers. the distant sparkle of lightning bugs. a pill someone slipped you. fear that turns into excitement. excitement that turns to frenzy. mossy tree trunks. a pair of yellow eyes in the darkness. night swimming. moonlight through the leaves. a bass beat in your chest. a butterfly landing on your nose. a kiss from a stranger. a dark hallow in an old tree. glow in the dark paint. drinking on an empty stomach. a twig breaking behind you. spinning until you’re dizzy. finding glitter on your body and not remembering where it came from. an overgrown path through the woods. cool dew on your skin. a dream that fades with waking. moths drawn to the light. giving yourself over, completely. afterglow. the long, loving, velvety night.

tagged by: @oddyseas. im smothering u in kisses and u cant do shit about it. tagging: @altarcup, for sabran or lestat or alice! @dreamlorn, love u. @damsul. @thanatologies. @wildkissed, for the trc kids or van or mal! @zerorisk, for the driver or grace!

[brawlqueen]

shakespeare aesthetic. 

romeo & juliet.   suburban july. scraped knees. bruised knuckles. blood in your teeth. bare feet on hot concrete. restlessness. your high school’s empty parking lot. love poems in your diary. a window open to coax in the breeze. burning inside. an ill - fitting party dress. a t - shirt you cut up yourself. the time you tried to give yourself bangs. biking to your friends house. bubble gum. gas station ice. the feeling that you’ve met before. rebellion. a car radio playing down the street. cheap fireworks. a heart drawn on the inside of your wrist with a sharpie. switchblades. red solo cups. dancing in your bedroom. screaming yourself hoarse. running out of options. the forlorn looking basketball hoop at the end of a cul - de - sac. climbing onto your roof at night while your parents are asleep. flip - flops. a eulogy written on loose - leaf. the merciless noontime sun.

hamlet.   speaking in a whisper. holding your breath. a browning garden. a half remembered story. furniture covered with sheets. fog at dawn. mist at twilight. losing touch. the ethereal space between winter & spring. the soft skin at your temple. the crack in the hallway mirror. things you’d say if you knew the words. uncombed hair. books with writing in the margins. books with cracked spines. books with lines scratched out. prayers on all souls’ day. a chipped ceramic bathtub. a cold stone floor. the uncomfortable awareness of your own heartbeat. the sparrow that got in your house. shadows. the creek you played in as a child. a dirty night gown. an oversized t - shirt. a collection of your favorite words. soil beneath your nails. ghost stories. the strangeness of your own name in your mouth. deep silence. exhaustion. a cliff with a long, long drop down.

twelfth night.   wicker deck furniture. new england summer. large sunglasses & a blonde bob. a storm over the ocean. patio umbrellas flapping in the wind. the smell of chlorine. muffled laughter. sarcasm. starched cuffs. day drinking. bay windows. the idea of love. love for the idea of love. love for love’s sake. hangovers. wandering over the sand dunes. a vagabond with a guitar. fishermen with tattoos. a pretty boy with a slacked tie. a lighthouse. growing too close. boat shoes. feeling yourself change. big, floppy sunhats. double - speak. a song you keep listening to. turning red under their gaze. margaritas drank on an inflatable pool lounger. string lights on a balmy night. sleepy june days. fights you’re unprepared for. hope you weren’t expecting. pranks that go too far. bad poetry. pining. becoming less of a stranger.

macbeth.   the space where your grief used to be. a bird that’s lost an eye. old blood stains. heavy blinds. the smell of sweat. the stillness after a battle. a fake smile. a curse. the taste of metal at the back of your tongue. your house, unfamiliar in the dark. a dusty crib. the smell of sulfur. an orange pill bottle. streaks in the sink. a black cocktail dress. your hand on the doorknob, shaking. a chilly breeze. crunching from the gravel driveway on a moonless night. clenched hands. a rusty swing set. a flashing digital clock stuck on 12 : 00. a snake that crosses your path. an owl that watches you. a dog that runs when you approach. red smoke, dark clouds. cool steel. tile floors. footsteps in the hallway late at night. a baggy suit that used to fit before. visions. insomnia headaches. nursery rhymes. being too far in to go back now.

much ado about nothing.   the high drama of small towns. a pickup truck. military supply duffel bags in the hall. hugs all around. tulip bulbs. a wraparound porch. a pitcher of iced tea. a rubber halloween mask. someone on your level. ill - timed proclamations. stomach clenching laughter. rushing in. not minding your business. crepe paper. white lies. secrets written down & thrown away. southern hospitality. homemade curtains in the kitchen. a sink full of roses. hiding in the bushes. old friends. the wedding dress your grandma wore, & her mama before her. a dog - eared rhyming dictionary. chamomile with honey. the intimacy of big parties. lawn flamingos. gossip. a crowded church. friendly rivalries. unfriendly rivalries. shit getting real. love at five hundredth sight. not realizing you’re home until you’re there.

king lear.   cement block buildings. power lines that birds never perch on. the end of the world. useless words. rainless thunder, heat lighting, a too big sky. arthritic knuckles. broken glass. chalk cliffs. the pulsing red - black behind closed eyes. something you learned too late. wet mud that sucks up your shoes while you walk. a cold stare. empty picture frames. empty prayers. the obscenity of seeing your parents cry. a treeless landscape. bloody rags. grappling in the dark with reaching hands. the sharpness at the the tips of your teeth. the blown out windows of a skeletal house. decay. jokes that aren’t jokes. biting your tongue. prophecies. aching muscles, tired feet. stinging rain. invoking the gods. wondering if the gods are listening. worrying that the gods are dead. white noise. shivers. numbness. the unequivocal feeling of ending.

a midsummer night’s dream.    the smell of wet soil & dead leaves. listening to music on headphones with your eyes closed. wildflowers. the distant sparkle of lightning bugs. a pill someone slipped you. fear that turns into excitement. excitement that turns to frenzy. mossy tree trunks. a pair of yellow eyes in the darkness. night swimming. moonlight through the leaves. a bass beat in your chest. a butterfly landing on your nose. a kiss from a stranger. a dark hallow in an old tree. glow in the dark paint. drinking on an empty stomach. a twig breaking behind you. spinning until you’re dizzy. finding glitter on your body & not remembering where it came from. an overgrown path through the woods. cool dew on your skin. a dream that fades with waking. moths drawn to the light. giving yourself over, completely. afterglow. the long, loving, velvety night.

tagged by.  stole it from @riwrite ! tagging: @zelotae @bonescribes @desuetmort @nulltune @nostomannia @paraleech @hopefromadoomedtimeline @lykaiia @causalitylinked @woeborns @sinplly @kiealer @toadmiretoweepover @peachrote @stellarhistoria @pleiadeshalo@sheyearns @psychcdelica + you !