#even these other gods who may be against you are part of your plan to build this heaven

[dromaeotrash]

.

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

Concentrate

summary: You've been engrossed in work lately and Price decides to take it into his own hands to make you relax.

pairing: cpt. John Price x reader (sunshine universe)

tags/tw: afab!reader, mention of canon related injury, NSFW, mdni 18+ please and thank you, p in v, teasing, unprotected sex, creampie, d/s themes, captain!kink, implied age-gap

a/n: god, it's been too long since I've updated this series, but considrings it's summer now, I actually have may aims set on finishing it<3

Sunshine universe MASTERLIST & John Price MASTERLIST

Despite the blue-light glasses dimming your already yellowed screen, your laptop's light strains your eyes.

They sting as you blink, tears occasionally wetting your lash line. You don't want to continue working, the whole day has had you glued to the screen. But, you'd signed a contract with a bigger firm, and the first checkpoint in that partnership was scheduled to be presented in two weeks.

Despite so much time left, it felt like you were already behind.

You sighed, your forehead finding solace between your arms as you rested it against the bed. You felt the mattress shift beneath you, not too surprised you caught the attention of the bed's other occupant, who had been engrossed in his book for the better part of an hour.

"Not time to let it rest for tonight?" You sighed again, catching the sound of an open book being placed down.

"I know I should, but there's still so much left undone." You turn to face John, your head finding a temporary respite on your shoulder, relieving some of the tension in your neck. 

Compared to you, he lies on his back, one hand resting along the book's spine, his index and middle finger hooked between the pages. His brows are drawn together, and the creases between them are more visible than otherwise. 

"Mhm, know it is, but you've done quite some work for the last half an hour." Right, this isn't the first time he's asked if it's time to put aside work for tonight. The knowing look John sends you makes you break away from his gaze. 

You know he is right. But, as soon as you stare at the unwelcomingly bright screen again, the unpleasant tingle in your nerves of work left half-done and the heaps of it left to finish forces your fingers to flex before settling on the keyboard again.

"And yet I've come nowhere", you mutter. The clicking of keys ceases when John's hand enters your vision, and a heavy paw is placed upon one of yours to halt your typing. Your eyes flick to him, noticing how he's

discarded the book and rolled onto his side, watching you with raised brows and sincere eyes. 

"Wrap it up, love. You've done enough for tonight." His voice is steady, and his gaze is heavy. 

Letting out a breath of combined compliance and relief, you nod. "Alright, let me just wrap these few sentences up so I'll know where I should pick up tomorrow".

"Good choice." John catches your chuckle with a kiss as he leans close to peck your lips before standing from the bed. "I'll be in the shower when you're done," he says, withdrawing to the en suite.

You follow him as he departs, leaving the invite dangling in the empty space he leaves you alone in. The water from the shower reaches you as a soft pour through the door, making it even harder to turn back to face the screen. It's light stabbing your sore eyes just a bit more viciously.

And you do plan to join him sooner rather than later. Yet the concluding sentence seems impossible to wrap up, going on forever as you attempt to put down all the thoughts on the screen for your well-rested self to probably frown at tomorrow morning.

The sound of the shower fades to a white noise as you simply can't take the step and cut yourself off, close the screen, and join John in a warm shower your sore body and exhausted mind needs.

***

Price waits for you. He didn't anticipate you to come running after him before the door shut, but he did expect you to join him soon after he stepped beneath the shower-head. But he sighs heavily when he's stood beneath the stream of water for long enough that he's finished washing and even stretched the time if you would join him in a minute. 

Turning off the shower, Price steps out to dry off. He'd looked forward to spending some time with you, no less seeing you relax for the first time since after breakfast. That project you're working on has taken much of your time the last few days, rendering you basically motionless in front of your laptop if it wasn't to eat or take a minuscule pause.

Despite knowing it was he who was on med-leave and not you, Price still felt that the days on which he had no paperwork to fill his time while you worked dragged on particularly slowly. And with his shoulder barely impairing him from any movement, sitting about the whole day made his leg bounce from restlessness.

Neither did he want to disturb you too much, noticing how you noted his presence each time he passed within your view with a flick of your eyes before they fell to your laptop again. 

While never saying anything, Price, in return, noticed how you often slowed your pace momentarily after he'd passed you, often with a swift kiss. Likewise, if he stayed in your vicinity, your attention strayed towards him more than once.

He tried to keep clear so as not to impair your workflow. But your workplace is much more fluid than his, and you often placed yourself in areas he passed through when moving through... practically anywhere in the house.

With the tally he kept, you favoured the couch in the living room downstairs and the bed later in the evenings.

Dropping the towel from his head, Price looked at his reflection before it fell to the side. Some little part in his chest hoped to see you suddenly appear behind him, but the door remained as shut as a few minutes prior. 

Price wasn't surprised to find you right where he left you once he exited the bathroom with the towel tied around his hips.

He called your name, but you barely moved. You remained on your stomach, propped on your elbows, occasionally scrolling on the computer before you. He catches you mumbling a 'mhm, soon done' much later than his call for you and only shakes his head, the response more autogenerated than anything else.

Even from this angle, Price notices how the light from the screen illuminates your tired features. When he moves around the bed and towards your side, he catches your furrowed brows.

You're so engrossed in your work and whatever is going on inside that head of yours you don't notice when he steps up beside you. Instead, your head falls to your hands, your thumbs pressing into the roots of your eyebrows.

A low groan escapes you, stirring something in the pit of his stomach. 

You'd been out like a light the last two nights, barely able to put away your computer and mosey your way for your skin-care routine before falling asleep. He'd caught you standing with your eyes closed as you massaged your products into your skin, only to offer him that sweet, tired smile once they fluttered open.

To say he hadn't been aching to touch you more than fleetingly the past three days was an understatement. But the day you announced you'd gotten the deal for this collaboration, you also said in your ecstatic state how you needed to work. So he'd let you, settling for the warmth of your body against his right before sleep took you both, and the day started in the mornings.

Price knew your jobs were different, awfully so. However, he recognised you were in that initial bubble of concentration that was hard to break out of, and you could bring in the rest of the world again.

While Price didn't blame you for working while you stayed here. After all, he'd thumbed on his non-working practice while on medical leave. He found that you had difficulty relaxing; your shoulders pulled tighter each day, your remote work smudging the line between work and home. Even now, you hadn't stopped massaging the pressure points in your face, the blue-light glasses discarded to make it easier.

He wanted to see you wind down, not only for tonight but also to allow yourself to not overwork so early on in this project. Take it from him about knowing that planning and prepping could only take you so far. Yet Price knew you wouldn't take that step yourself. He'd waited to see if you would since yesterday when the exhaustion of your mental workload slowly started to make itself noticeable.

Maybe that's why he found himself suddenly resting a knee on the bed beside your hip, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he pushed himself over your laying form until he kneeled on either side of you. Or so he told himself, dismissing how he slowly felt himself grow hard standing there, watching your form resting prone on the bed, craving to hold your body.

***

The mattress shifts and a sudden weight settles atop your thighs. You start from whatever brain fog has momentarily overtaken you. 

You smell John's shower gel, the slight dampness of what must be a towel separating your naked legs from his as he sits behind you.

Fuck, right, you were supposed to join him.

You attempt to glance over your shoulder to apologise but only catch a glimpse of John, towel around his waist and hair still wet from his shower, before a hand lands on your neck and directs your face forward. The firm grip makes you feel a bit like a kitten being grabbed by the scruff, yet John's voice makes another feeling come to life.

"Just concentrate on your work, love." His voice is smooth and gravelly deep, but he doesn't let up on your neck, forcing you to continue facing your screen with the blinking marker not far from your face. 

"What-"

"And let me take care of you", he continues, disregarding you completely. 

You're about to ask him again what he's doing, but upon the fingers resting on either side of your neck pressing, your words escape as a rushed exhale. His thumb and index finger repeatedly knead the base of your skull, making your eyes fall shut. 

Yeah, you could need a massage. That's also how you interpret John's action, as his hand slides with equal pressure further along your spine. The pressure is firm, but oh, it is needed on the sore muscles along your back that you let out a shaky breath when some of the tension is relieved. 

However, your shaky breaths turn into a sharp inhale once one of his hands that has been kneading the worst of the tension points in your back slips down your spine, not stopping at your last vertebrate but continuing over the globe of your ass.

One calloused hand turns to two, both grabbing at you from behind, groping your cheeks in each palm, squeezing until flesh spills between fingers and an appreciative noise sounds from the man doing so. And then, he pulls you apart just a little, the oversized shirt of his that you're wearing riding up until you practically can feel his eyes on your scantily covered core.

"John-" His name is cut off by a sharp inhale as one of his hands slides between your legs, and he runs his thumb the length of your thong-covered pussy from behind. In the aftermath of your involuntary jerk, his other hand settles heavily on your hip, pressing you down into the bed with the help of his weight pinning you.

"Hush, don't mind me." His voice is remarkably even despite gently rubbing up and down your cunt like he is currently doing.

"Hard not to mind you." You let out a soft moan, clenching around nothing but the phantom feel of his thumb against your entrance as he presses just a tad bit more.

"You wanted to work, love, don't let me stop you". It's sweet, even considerate, the way he says it. Contrasting so deviously the way he's petting you with repeated motions of his thumb.

Your mouth opens and closes, your eyes fluttering in an attempt to stay open and watch the keyboard and screen you're meant to type on. However, the computer you only minutes before couldn't tear your attention from remains untouched. 

Your fingers hover, and your chest heaves as your total concentration falls on John. 

Hyper-vigilance overtakes your body as you follow every tiny thing the man pinning you against the bed does. John keeps the pace of his fingers the same, the prodding remaining frustratingly consistent. You try to wriggle your hips, but the hand on your waist only tightens its hold as he clicks his tongue. A simple but effective warning.

You fall still, letting him touch you at the pace he wants despite your breaths now turning to soft whimpers. 

A flush rushes through your body when John shuffles. You feel him rise onto his knees for a second, and then the fingers playing with your pussy leave your body, only for the sensation of fabric to sweep over your legs and be thrown to the side.

Once he retakes his position, it's his naked thighs that connect with yours. But the stuttering breath escapes when you catch a low groan spilling into the air.

Your head whips around, catching John admiring you with lidded eyes, hand fisted and stroking his rapidly swelling cock to full hardness.

Mouth salivating, your lip catches between your teeth upon the scene. You can't help the way your thighs clench together when your pussy flutters. John notices, eyes trailing upwards until his gaze locks with yours. He tsks the moment they do, stopping his fisting of himself as if to depreve you of the hot scene.

"Thought you wanted to work, eh?" He leans forward, shifting his hand to rest by your shoulder instead of your hip. It lets you arch against his hardened cock when it falls against your backside. John grunts, jaws tightening as his free hand curls around your head, gripping your jaw to force you to look at him by craning your head backwards. "Now, don't let me fuckin' this pretty pussy of yours distract you." He directs your head forward slowly as the words drip from his tongue. 

But, rather than your hands resuming the typing you'd given up on since he started touching you, they fall to the sides of your godforsaken computer, fisting the covers. "I-I won't be able-"

"M'no, no backtalk, or else I'll go an wank off rather than help you relax, love." Your mouth snaps shut, breathing turning shallow as your heart thrums in the hollow of your throat. "Understood?"

"Yes". There are a few beats of silence as John lets go of your jaw. You wait for his next move, but so does he, apparently, as suddenly his palm connects with your ass, the spank reverberating in the air together with your gasp.

You know what he wants, then. "Yes, Captain." His title sends a shudder down your spine, the implications of its use telling what's to come.

"Good girl", is the low-muttered response you get against the shell of your ear as John settles into his previous position again.

His hand glide over the globe of your ass, soon joined by his other one. You can only imagine the sight he's greeted with when he rucks down your panties and spreads your cheeks enough to bare you for him.

You feel how wet you are. The crotch of your panties tying your legs together is damp against your inner thighs. The uncomfortable feeling of being soaked between your legs makes you squirm beneath John's gaze.

"Squirmin' already, and I've barely touched you", he hums, letting his thumb fall to your entrance again. When he curls the digit, it disappears inside you, forcing a stutter moan out of you.

He toyed with you, teasingly stretching you over his thumb as he wiggled it at the entrance. Sometimes, John let it slide deeper, which had your thighs clenching beneath his thicker ones straddled over you. 

You whimpered, head falling to the bed when he used the slick you'd coated him in to rub your clit. The stutter of your hips was impossible to stop, but rather than a swat to your ass and a disappointed sound, the one you could've presumed would leave John. His tut was filled with remorse, the way he kneaded your ass almost caringly.

"So strung tight, ain't you, love?" You whined in response when his thumb left your clit, sliding up and down the seam of your pussy. "Poor thing", he hummed, low and gravelly in his chest. If not for your body already vibrating, you bet you could've felt the same bone-deep rumble of his voice through your back.

"Yeah-oh!" A moan cut off your sentence, John's thumb swapped to the head of his cock in the middle of it. It was a slow push inside, having your mouth falling open, another moan forced into the bed.

The familiar burn of his thick cock stretching you wider made your eyes screw shut and your breathing heavy. With little to no prep, apart from your slick and John's teasing, the delicious stretch around him was slower than usual.

"Oh my-", you whimpered, feeling John move and his weight settles against your back.

A hand beneath your throat is what forces your head up. With a slight bend backwards, you met with blue eyes gazing down at you. The picture of John was upside down, but the evident lust in his features as his hips met your ass shone no less clearly.

"How's that work goin' for you?" His voice was thick, dripping from his mouth into yours from how your lips brushed.

You opened your mouth, intent on replying. Though, John had another idea. Before your words could more than begin as a deep inhale, he started to fuck into you, torturously slow but deep, rocking your body from how tightly he pressed himself against your rear.

Intended words escaped as nothing more than a moan he swallowed with a messy kiss, your sound of pleasure urging a deep groan from John in response.

Your eyes fluttered when John shifted just right and hit that bundle of nerves inside you that made silvery stars dance across your vision. He must have felt your walls contract as he picked up his pace. And basically rutted into the bed, your eyes fluttered and your neck going loose, forcing John to let you down so you would not bend it at an awkward angle. 

With your cheek pressed against the bed, you followed the large man sitting straight again through your peripheral. He appeared larger when he grabbed your hips, pushing those big pecs of his together, puffing his chest up. 

His bicep flexed, and his head tipped back a notch when he pushed your legs together more firmly with his thighs, feeling you tighten around him. The fit was snug, urging him to push firmer into you, lifting your hips the slightest bit to meet each thrust. 

You could drool at the sight of him huffing and groaning as the muscles in his stomach and arms flexed. Some wetness probably escaping along the constant strings of moans and whimpers flooding your mouth. The burly bulk of him working you closer to orgasm with each tug of your body and snap of his hips. Fuck did he look good.

"C-captain", you moaned wantonly, earning his attention as he haunched forward, sneaking a hand beneath your front to strum at your clit.

"Fuck me, love." John couldn't help but stutter through his words when your goaded groan stoked his primal pride at having you look so utterly dishevelled. "Lookin' so fuckin' cockdrunk."

You nodded absentmindedly, earning another grunt from the man shoving his cock possibly deeper as his finger toyed quicker over your sensitive bud. It was impossible to keep your eyes open, your mouth hanging open without a sound but heady exhales escaping. Your fingers were cramping, clutching and unclutching the rucked-up duvet around your face.

"Can feel you flutterin' around me. You needed this, didn't you? Already close." Fingers dug into your hipbones, and your body jolted when John switched the pace to agonisingly drag his cock out before slamming home. "Yeah, yeah? Are you goin' to cum for your Captain? Cream my cock while you work?"

Work was nothing but a memory now as you could only muster a moan in response.

You twitched beneath him, coming nowhere despite arching your back as you came, and John continued sliding over your clit with his finger. It was violent, ripping through all those frayed and tense nerves that had pulled tight through over the last few days.

You cried into the bed, shuddering when John kept pumping into you, prolonging the blessedly painful high he forced you into by the end. His rumbling grunts and mumbled praise spread goosebumps over your skin as you lay there, taking whatever he needed to spill inside you through the overstimulation.

Then John stilled, shoving himself deep as his thighs quivered and he pulsed inside you, the warmth and stickiness spilt inside you, making you weakly moan in satisfaction.

It was blessedly silent as you felt him push incredibly lazy into you once, twice, before he pulled out and settled on his haunches, pulling your cheeks apart to probably look at the white dribble of cum that oozed out of you. He hummed contentedly, smoothing his palm over your bottom before he wedged a hand beneath your hips, helping you lift them as he pulled your panties up your legs again.

You whined at the uncomfortable coldness but stopped once John's thumb ran soothing circles into your spine.

Your eyes had fallen shut, the fatigue from earlier creeping violently close. The only thing making your lashes flutter was once John leans over your body, closing the laptop that switched to standby long ago. 

His hand is kept on the device as he leans down, his head notching on your shoulder and his lips resting against the shell of your ear as he falls to his elbow.

"You're done". This time around, it wasn't a suggestion. 

You can't argue this time, only hum and tip your head in an attempted nod. Your head is silent for the first time in three days, and the pleasant buzz makes your body completely lax. John takes it as an agreement as he leans down and kisses your shoulder blade. 

One press off his lips turns into two, and then a question breaks the pattern, "You feelin' alright?"

"Mhm" is all you can muster in return. You receive a last kiss against your clothes-covered skin before John stands from the bed while you remain put. 

You feel the laptop disappear, presuming John puts it away to charge for the night.

"Come on now, love, up you get". Your head twists to watch John as he stands beside the bed in his naked glory. A tension was lost in his shoulders now.

"M'too tired", you mumble.

"Now it suits you", he laughs softly, a quirk tugging in the corner of his lip as he bends down. 

You move easily when he pushes you over to your back, enjoying the view John offers above you. When he inserts his hand behind your knees and your back to scoop you into his arms, you sober up quickly as you release a squeal, eyes widening as your arms shoot to wrap around his neck. 

His chuckle vibrates against your ribcage as he readjusts his grip on you before he sets off to the en suite. 

"Waited for you to take that shower with me, but looks like I had to take it into my own hands".

"So you're kidnapping me to take another?"

"Yes", he says, shifting his eyes to yours before stopping to push the door open with his foot.

"What a gentleman", you giggle, craning your neck to kiss his beard-covered jaw quickly.

"Didn't leave me with any gentlemanly options", John fixes you with a look as he lets you down.

"Guess the both of us can get stuck in work sometimes," you shrug, blinking up at him with innocent eyes and giving him an apologetic smile.

His arms circle your waist, accepting your regretful gesture by pulling you close to him. All the while, John huffs to playfully deflect your accusation towards him. 

"Don't know what you're talkin' about".

"Don't know what I'm talking about, huh?" You question with a cocked brow, a smile pulling at the edge of your mouth. "Says the man who would rate his study a close second behind being in bed with me".

"Surfaces to fuck you in both places." He shrugs. Your mouth drops open, your spluttering making him let out a short laugh, a boyish smile now tugging at his lips. "And... it's not my fault you consider one of your offices the most fuckable surfaces in the house, nor your work attire this", he defends himself half-heartedly while slipping a hand beneath his oversized tee covering your body.

You lightheartedly swat his chest, chuckling as you detangle yourself from his arms. 

You feel John's eyes rove over your body while you pull the shirt over your head, catching his gaze once you drop it to the floor. You lift a brow once his eyes rise to yours, only briefly, however, as they soon drop again when you step out of your sticky panties.

You feel the wetness left behind between your legs; no doubt that John also sees it from how his chest expands when you step backwards through the open shower doors and onto the still, slightly wet ground from his previous shower.

When he follows you, he instantly pulls your naked body against his as if he hadn't just held you.

Just before the water hits your front, John huddles close, bending slightly forward so the water cascades over the back of his head instead. 

He runs a hand through his hair to push his drenched locks backwards. Droplets fly and hit you in the face, and you raise a hand to swipe most of them from your lashes.

You stand in comfortable silence as you stare at each other. John's hands wander up and down your sides, your hands no better as they slide over his wet torso. He can't take his eyes off of you, gaze slowly dipping, mapping your body as if he hasn't seen it naked countless times.

"You're touchy tonight", you hum, following his gaze as it settles on your breasts, hands soon moving to the same place.

"Have barely felt you for days." He fondles you in his hands, much gentler in all his touches now compared to earlier, simply feeling you up. 

"Could've just asked if you wanted to have some time for us without my laptop present", you jokingly offer.

John only raises a brow as his eyes lock with yours, his hands stilling and ultimately sliding down your ribs to rest on your hips.

"With how you've buried that nose in the screen, I didn't know if you fancied if I would come and cop a feel". You tip your head side to side. "You're probably right." John only cocks his brows, a silent dig at the probably you threw in there. "But I didn't mind it now".

He shakes his head, reaching down to plan a swift kiss on your lips. "'Course you didn't when bein' so wound up. Know a good fuck makes you relax".

"Oh, shut up," you say, pushing his face away with your hand and bashfully dipping your head. He laughs lowly through the shower stream you'd moved him into. 

He shook his head as he exited the water, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against his chest.

[hoshinasblade]

second best |3| hoshina soshiro

PART 1 | PART 2 | BONUS: PART 3

pairing: hoshina soshiro x f!reader genre: slight angst, comfort, childhood friends to lovers, a bit of that miscommunication trope snippet: hoshina soshiro always ranks second at everything in his life. god forbid he falls behind in the bid for your heart too. word count: 2k trigger warnings: a bit suggestive at the end author's note: i promised a part three so here it is, hope you guys like it! likes, replies, and reblogs are welcome but im begging you not to copy or steal my works. feel free to sign up for my taglist (which i swear im gonna use on the next fic lol), and i appreciate when people send me asks so let me know your thoughts (or send me hoshina pics, that'd be great too). my masterlist is here! also i gotta let you know that i might put the next fic on hold because i am so tempted to start a short nsfw collection instead - just one-shots so it won't be a lot of commitments. who knows cause i might write angst and nsfw at the same time 😉

soshiro's hands were trembling. you noticed because it has not happened in a while - you cannot even recall the last time you've seen the man nervous, much less shaking. you were going to himeji that morning; hoshina had snatched your backpack from you - "when i said i would make it up to ya, i mean in every way i can," he said, sounding gentle and sincere that your only choice was to let him carry your belongings and blush as he also intertwined his fingers with yours while walking.

there is this story you have been hearing for a while - the red string theory, it is called. according to it, people who are destined to be together will always find each other despite everything and anything. when you were a kid, instead of thinking it romantic, you rather thought it is frightening - fate is a difficult enemy to go against: if it is meant to be, then it will be eventually. when you grew up, you held that belief as a prayer - it means that whoever is the one chosen for you may get lost on their way to you, but they will always - always - arrive.

you glanced at hoshina soshiro and you knew you were right to believe.

it was roughly a four-hour journey from tachikawa to himeji by train, and during the entire ride, even when he fell asleep for a short while, your boyfriend did not let go of your hand. you complained about your palms being sweaty as a joke, and he only loosened his hold. you understood - he is making it up to you, but he is also making up for all the wasted time.  

"we're almost there," you told him when he startled from his nap. his bangs were slightly messy, and he bumped his head to your shoulders. "comfy," he hummed. you giggled.

you are still trying to navigate through dating a high-ranking officer of an anti-kaiju defense force unit. relationships aren't strictly forbidden but still frowned upon, which was a little bit of an issue between you and soshiro when you had a proper and long-overdue conversation about what you guys were. confessing is one thing, but when being friends is all you've known your whole life, you know adjustments are supposed to be made here and there.

 which brings you and him back to your hometown.

he didn't exactly disagree with you, but you are aware he had his reservations about the idea of visiting himeji. "oh i'm pretty sure soichiro-kun would be surprised," you said when you were still planning the trip. "yes, we should kiss in front of him and give him a heart attack," soshiro suggested, and you weren't hundred-percent sure he was just joking. maybe you didn't want him to be.

when the streets started to look familiar, soshiro noted the sudden bounce in your pace. you and he have walked in the same alley years ago - he would wait for you after class and would even make up some ridiculous excuse so you could go home together. "i used to pretend to be tired way back just so i could convince you to slow down. i wanted to spend so much time with you," you reminisced.

"i should have known ya were head-over-heels for me," he teased.

"they miss ya, soshiro-kun. ya don't have anything to worry about." the change in topic wiped the smirk off his face. he was suddenly serious, sad even. there was a part of you that regretted saying the words, but he had to hear it - you only wanted to reassure him after all.

"just that i haven't been here for a long while", he said, squeezing your hand. "i don't know if they think this place is still my home."

"ya need to have faith in the people you care about, soshiro-kun. ya need to trust that they care about ya too," you solemnly advised. "i know that doesn't make any sense sometimes, but that's how i do it."

"have i told ya i love you so much?" he responded, to which you smiled.

"only a thousand times," you joked once more.

the hoshina estate is a spacious one - you have to pass through an automated black gate that directs you to the main house, the cobblestone path lined with cherry blossom trees, their delicate petals swirling when the wind blows gently; the grandeur of the home soshiro grew up in is undeniable with its traditional japanese architecture. a man with striking features and an aura of authority was waiting at the entrance, waiting for his son.

“father,” soshiro greeted the man, bowing deeply.

“an embarrassment that your friend will be the one to bring you home when you could have done it a long time ago,” soshiro’s father scolded him. his stare at soshiro was that of disappointment, which quickly disappeared when he looked at you. “ah, my dear, come on in, hurry, come on in,” he turned and said to you, inviting you in. the hoshina patriarch had always been fond of you - soshiro’s parents had wanted a daughter and they found one in you.

soshiro rolled his eyes. “my father’s favorite child is my girlfriend, great,” he muttered.

the maids made you a great dinner, cooking soshiro’s favorite food per his father’s request. conversation was light, and it was apparent that the old hoshina wanted to catch up so badly on how his son was doing, inquiring in consecutive questions about soshiro’s rank in the unit, his experiences so far, and his long-term plans in staying with the force. soshiro’s replies are detailed, but you know he intentionally did not mention all the instances where he almost died fighting.

soshiro’s father regaled you both with stories of soshiro’s childhood antics - “do ya remember, my dear, when soshiro tripped and fell on his face after training with soichiro? we were so worried, but he only fell asleep,” he recited the memory as if it was just yesterday., his kansai accent thick on his words. the tension that had lingered in the air had dissipated as you finished your meal.

“i had the guest room prepared for ya so ya can rest for tonight,” soshiro’s father had said when his son cut him off.

“no, we can sleep together,” soshiro declared, and thinking it might have sounded improper, he spoke again. “beside each other, i mean. in my room. because we’re tired. from travelling all day," he attempted to clarify but failed.

“ah, may i look forward to a grandchild soon from ya two?” color drained from your face as you slowly closed your eyes. you fought off a laugh but failed.

“ya may, but we aren’t doing that here of all places,” soshiro argued just as his father had turned his back on the both of you, amused with himself. at least now you know where soshiro got his sense of humor.

the hot shower felt great against your tensed muscles, and if you weren’t that exhausted, you would have opted for a bath instead. soshiro wanted to speak to his father alone, so when he ushered you inside his childhood bedroom, he’d let you know that he would be gone while you were cleaning yourself up. you were relieved; you haven’t seen your own father since you were a teenager, and it would be a shame to see it happening to the person you care about the most, not if you can do something about it. and this is not to say that you wanted to fix soshiro’s life - you pointed this out to him once - but he’s had a terrible habit of holding back and assuming the worst, so you had decided that if you could help him out, you would push him to the right direction.

“didn’t ya pack clothes?” his eyes were on you immediately after he came in, finding you on the bed with your phone, wearing his shirt.

“i did, but yours look better,” you replied, holding your arms out and showing him how oversized it is on you - the sleeves are passed your elbows, the hem reaching the middle of your thighs.

“they look better on ya, i agree.” he sat on the mattress for a few moments before lying down, his legs dangling off the edge of the bed. “ya all good?”

“i am,” you said to him. “especially because i scanned yer photos when ye're still little while ya were gone,” you informed him then showing him a folder you created in your device - baby hoshina soshiro folder, you named it - full of duplicates you made of the framed pictures of your boyfriend all over the house. there’s one where he didn’t have any hair at all; there’s one where he was close to crying but appeared to be keeping the tears in; there’s one where he was missing a tooth but smiling like there’s no tomorrow. soshiro moved to take your phone away, but you were quicker than him.

“this is payback, for all the times ya weren’t talking to me.” you were alluding to the three long months when you were still an applicant to the defense force and soshiro acted like you were a stranger. he had apologized for it already, but it is nice to make fun of him sometimes so you brought it up. “that hurt my feelings, ya know.” you laid down beside him, invading his personal space, your shoulders touching his.

“i was stupid”, he said. “and it’s not like i could have come up to ya and said, hey i’m sorry for leaving ya in himeji, by the way i’m crazy for ya.”

“and all those times i thought ya had something with commander ashiro, oh god!” you exclaimed for effect. “by the way, the other recruits thought the same.”

“it’s not like that between her and me.” his gaze on you was brief. “it’s not like that with anyone else.”

“it better not be, because i’m leaking all yer baby photos to the first division if ya mess up,” you threatened him despite not needing to.

“i promise, i won’t.” he grabbed your hand from your side and linked it with his, cradling it to his chest before bringing it to his lips. “i’m not that stupid.”

soshiro’s childhood room was what you would expect from a teenage boy: a king-sized bed, a bookshelf of manga, a cabinet showcasing knives and blades. you never had the opportunity to enter his room even when you were kids, you realized. you looked up to the ceiling and you saw green dots that formed shapes - makeshift constellations, you recognized the patterns - little plastic stickers that you glue to surfaces. “are those supposed to be stars?”

soshiro sighed, his arm on top of his face. “yeah, uh - remember when uh - i think that was in junior high, and ye're so into astronomy? i thought it’d be a good idea to know the names of the stars to impress ya, so i started trying to memorize them.”

you shifted to face him, speechless. maybe if you had known this, if you had known the other things you are certain now that soshiro had done and was willing to do for you, you wouldn’t have wasted years questioning your place in his life and deciphering his feelings. a wave of warmth washed over you as you reached out and lifted his arm off his face, meeting his eyes.

soshiro’s lips felt as soft as it looks like, you thought as you kissed him. you pushed yourself into him, and he pulled you tighter until it seemed there was not enough air for you to breathe - until your chests were pressed together it was as if your hearts were beating as one. something sparked inside you; the sensation of being so close to soshiro about to consume you from within. his hand crawled to your hips and remained there. you drew back a bit after that, and when you saw the panicked look on his face, you kissed him again.

“i love you,” you told him in between pants.

the night went on, and by the end of it, hoshina soshiro discovered that his favorite sound is you moaning his name.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

1.5k / 20 / post-apocalypse au, part 1

...

You're injured but moving as fast as you can with your bow slung over your back. Soap is close behind you, giving chase, shouting your name as he does. Doesn't he learn? Doesn't he know you'll pull your bow on him again if he corners you?

He must know, but he's too stubborn to give up the chase. You don’t understand it.

He pushes on, just as graceful and twice as effective as you. You slip through the thick trees and their branches trailing whips of brambles. He shoves past them. You’re injured. He’s not. He's gaining, boots heavy in the soil.

"Watch yourself--!"

Your boot lands on leaf litter that falls out from under you--a pit trap. You’re moving barely fast enough for your momentum to save you from falling in. Your waist hits the edge of the pit. You brace yourself by your elbows, fingers digging into the dirt. The soft underside of your arms drag against something sharp underneath.

Soap grabs you by your coat and pulls you up out of the trap and to your feet before you can scramble out yourself. You're neither surprised nor mollified by his careful handling of you.

"Let me go!"

"Na. You're hurt. Stay still."

"Soap, I swear to God--"

"Shut up. I'm taking a look."

He holds your arm firmly with one large hand and, with the other, pulls your sleeve away from the bleeding gash. You grab his wrist with a pained curse. Whatever caught your arms—the rough wood and metal at the trap's edge—tore you bloody. Soap glares at the gash and then at you. He's close.

You could reach for your bow or for the dagger on your hip. But you know for a fact he's armed. With guns. A sniper rifle on his back and two sidearms at his belt. He knows how to use them, too. If you fight, he wins. But you know better than to back down quickly. The world is crueler than it used to be ever since things went to shit. People who show weakness don’t survive.

"Why are you following me?" you growl, your grip on his wrist tightening.

His grip on you loosens in turn when you speak. "You know why. I'm lookin' out for ya."

"I didn't ask for your help."

"Aye, but you still needed it."

"You're not a soldier anymore, Soap," you retort, trying to pull your wrist away. "It's every person for themselves. Stop following me."

"That's no way to live. The world may be a shithole, but there are still folk around who'll lend you a hand even though they don't need to. Soldier or no'."

You can't get out of his grip when he's determined to keep you there, and he is. As much as you'd like to give him a matching wound for being so goddamn stubborn, the rational part of your brain--the part that makes sure you survive--knows better than to expend energy struggling when it's not strictly necessary.

"Nobody lends a hand unless they want something in return," you mutter, glaring down at your wound as he bandages it. "Even if they're pretending otherwise."

He knows you speak from experience. You're a woman, and that means you're nothing but a resource to the worst of whoever’s left. He can't blame you for being guarded. Then again, you wouldn't be making such heated statements to his face if you really thought he intended to hurt you. You're just... defensive. Hiding under all that anger. That's what he tells himself. So he ignores your grumbled protests.

"That's how you'd look at it," he finally replies as he finishes dressing the wound. "Seein' as you've not met the right people. But some of us don't expect anything back."

"You don't expect it because you think you're better than asking. But you still want it."

"Might be so." His voice is soft, gravelly, but you can hear the steel in it. "But am not asking, now am I? So stop your fussin'. You're safe. Nae need to worry." He releases your bandaged arm.

"You run your hand along the wrapping, checking it. "Fine. But I'm... I'm not coming back with you."

"Can't promise you'll be safe out there. Where do ye plan to go?"

"I don't know. Wouldn't tell you if I did."

"Aye." He rubs his jaw, examining you with flint in his blue eyes. Pressing you for an answer would be pointless. Not that you seem to be lying—but you're not telling the whole truth. The short history you share with him is just enough that he can tell. But he also knows trying to change your mind would be pointless. If you won't listen, he'd have better luck bashing his head against one of these huge, mutated oaks.

"Am nae stoppin' ya. But these woods are full of treacherous paths. If ye run into trouble—when ye run into trouble--my boys and I, we know these woods well enough to dust you off and send you in the right direction. Cannae promise to find you before somethin’ else does, though."

You're fairly sure he's not lying. His boys, as he calls them—his old squad, you think—they've made their home in these woods. It's perilous living—bears, wolves, muties, and terrain just as hazardous as the wildlife. And still those men are the most dangerous things in here.

The offer is tempting. You consider it for longer than you should, looking down at your bandaged arm again. But then you step back, shaking your head slowly. "No, thanks. I have to get going."

It tears him up inside. You're making the wrong choice. If he lets you walk away, he's letting you walk to your death.

He looks at you for a moment. You can tell he's got something more to say. But he changes his mind, stepping back as well. He pulls something from his belt and holds it out. A handgun, scuffed and black, grip held toward you. You stare at it for a second before looking back up at him. He's serious?

"I'm not gonna take that--"

"You're damn well gonna take it." His voice is low and insistent. "You think I don't know you'll run into trouble out here? Don't be a fool. I have spare. Take it."

Your one rule is don't owe anybody anything. How the fuck are you about to owe this man twice?

Fine. Whatever. It's not like you have to use it. Could just barter it. Not like you’re going to see him again. You take the gun, biting back a retort.

He nods his approval. The steely look in his eyes softens, though he still looks dismayed. "Mind where you point that. And when you pull it. Biters'll hear it for a mile and come running. Survivors, too. The curious ones." He glances at your bandaged arm one more time. Then he adjusts the bag over his shoulder and turns his back, walking away from you. Back to camp. "Am expectin' you to keep yourself alive with that," he growls. "Or else it's a lot of good time and material I wasted on ya."

"I didn't ask you to waste your breath," you retort, practically snarling at his retreating back in your irritation. You watch him go until he's disappeared into the trees. You need to make sure he doesn't plan on doubling back and following you.

Then you set off on your own. You take a winding path to throw off any trackers. Never can be too cautious. The gun in your pocket is heavy against your thigh, and you try not to think of it as a comforting security.

You came here to get Roach back, and you don’t care how long you have to wander this Godforsaken forest. You’re not leaving without him.

…

Soap feels your eyes on him until you disappear.

He wants to divorce himself from this, but he’s on edge. People who strike out on their own here come to a nasty end. But he’s not going to take away your agency by deciding what's best for you. You were right about him not being a soldier, after all. He doesn’t have the authority to herd you back to his squad’s campsite. Your life is in your own hands.

He just hopes you live to do better than he believes you will.

That night, he sleeps restlessly. Which is why, when he hears a cluster of gunshots in the distance, he wakes up instantly. It's you. In trouble.

The night watch—Gaz tonight—is already there, tossing Soap's gun to him. "You were right," Gaz says.

"Course I was," Soap says with a lopsided grin. "Owe me a ten-piece in the next poker game, aye?"

...

[part 1] / part 2 / part 3

more Soap / more multi-141 and poly 141 / masterlist tag

[wosostories]

Pranks

Prompt: Can you do a uswnt x teen reader, where reader gets hurt when someone pulls a prank on her or something like that?

Sonny pulls Y/N in to the aftermath of a prank and it doesn't go as planned.

You were heading back to your room from a meeting with coach. You had been told that you were going to be starting in tomorrow's game. You were so excited that you didn’t notice Sonnett running down the hallway. 

“Y/N watch out!” She calls out right before she runs into you. You wobble a little but she steadies you before you hit the ground. “Sorry! Got to run.” She is about to take off again down the hallway. “Actually, I could use you.” Sonny grabs your hand and drags you down the hallway behind her. 

“Why are we running? What did you do?” You ask her. 

“There is no reason for the running. I didn't do anything. Why would you even ask that?” Sonny responds. 

“Sonny, get back here!” You hear Kelley yell from down the hallway. 

“Did you prank Kelley?”

“Maybe?”

“Becky told you that you aren’t allowed to drag me into your prank wars. And I think that this constitutes dragging me.”

“I may be dragging you, but this is not a prank war so not breaking Beckys rules.”

You turn a corner and are all of a sudden heading down a set of stairs. Sonnett’s grip around your wrist made it impossible to get out of it without hurting yourself. 

“Can you let me go please. I was on my way to get ready for dinner. I am already running late.”

“You're fine, we can just go to dinner right now.” You are keeping up with Sonny until the final bit on the first floor. You trip over one of the stairs and let out a yelp as you fall down the final few stairs. You fall into Sonny and you both tumble to the ground in a heap. 

“Sonny! Y/N!” Kelley calls from the flight of stairs above you. This draws the attention of some of the other girls who are waiting in the meal room which is next door to the staircase. 

In a second they were at the bottom of the stairs as Sonnett peels herself off the floor. 

“Oh God, Y/N! Are you ok?” You let out a groan clutching your wrist to your chest. 

“Sonnett what did you do?” Becky all but yells. 

“I- I didn’t…” 

Ali came running in with the team doctor. 

“Y/N can you sit up for me?” The medic asked. She helped you into a sitting position leaning up against the wall. She took your hand into her own and started poking it in different spots. 

The rest of the girls turned back to Sonnett and Kelley knowing that you were in good hands. They were berating them as the medic made her assessment. 

You let out a cry and tears start streaming down your face as she continues her assessment. “I think it's broken. We need to get you to the hospital for x-rays and casting.”

“A- am I still going to be able to start tomorrow?” You ask through your tears. All of your teammates went silent waiting for the answer. 

The medic sighed, “It’s not the end of the world, you will have another opportunity to start. You are only 16.” 

“Y/N I’m so sorry.” You shake your head and let the medic help you to your feet. Her and Ali help you out of the hotel to head to the hospital. 

“You’re the one who is going to tell coach why Y/N can’t start tomorrow. And the part you played in it.” Becky told her. 

Sonnett nodded tears in her own eyes, “I hope you think pulling her into the prank was worth it.” Kelley said, walking past her leaving Sonny alone as the team made their way back to the meal room to wait on news of Y/N wrist. 

[guiltyasdave]

no one has to know what we do

chapter 2 • series masterlist

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: Try as you might, Dave and you can’t stay away from each other.

word count: 4.4k

tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (reader’s dad sucks), able-bodied reader, reader has hair that Dave pulls, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, unprotected p in v, fingering, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, spanking, sooooo many pussy slaps (don’t look at us), pet names, let me know if anything is missing!

a/n: co-written with my love @joelscurls, who unfortunately couldn’t write this entire chapter the way we had originally planned, so you’re stuck with me again. if you notice that some parts are better written than others, those are most likely hers haha <3 this is lowkey my favorite thing that i’ve ever put out, and i hope you like it as much as i do 🤍

follow @joelscurlsupdates and @guiltyasdavenotifs for updates and find jess’s masterlist here and my masterlist here :)

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

The phone feels like a paperweight in your hand. It’s late — you should be sleeping, but you know it’s useless to even attempt shutting your eyes. It’s too loud in your head right now — that promise of just one time blaring: a warning. Still, you can’t help but consider ignoring it, texting David and begging to see him again.

It’s probably a bit pathetic, yearning for a man who made it clear he wanted nothing to do with you beyond a one night stand. Daydreaming about the timbre of his voice, the stretch of his cock. Getting his phone number from your father, who’s none the wiser. Your father, who is asleep in his own room just down the hall. Being home for the summer has never felt like such a burden.

Guilt eats at you as your fingers hover over the screen, David’s contact front and center. It would be so easy to send him a text right now, let him know you’re thinking about him. About the other night. But your conscience reins you in. Your father’s face flashes behind your eyes — rage and disappointment painting his features scarlet, and you drop the phone beside you on the mattress with a huff.

It’s difficult to even imagine the inevitable severity of his reaction if he ever found out. He’d probably cut you off, the revelation of you whoring around with his friend — and the possibility of this news getting out, tarnishing your family’s pure reputation — more than enough for him to disown you.

You hate him sometimes. Hate the life he’s forced onto you. You’re not even interested in studying law — not really. You never had a choice, though. It was determined before you even graduated high school that you’d follow in your dad’s footsteps. And as long as he’s funding your studies, your future, you have no right to complain. This is the life you should want. The life everyone wants. He reminds you of that fact regularly. Him, and his countless snooty club buddies.

But David — David is refreshing.

He doesn’t come from old money. He doesn’t pinch your cheeks and talk around you rather than to you, declarations of you must be so proud aimed at your father as you stand awkwardly to the side. You’re pretty sure he’s the first person outside of your professors to really look at you, take interest in anything you have to say in… god knows how long.

You can still feel his eyes boring into you. The subtle but tactful brush of his leg against yours under the table. The exhilaration that had thrummed in your veins. He’d made you feel something. You’d almost forgotten you could feel anything apart from stress and agitation. And as you lay in bed, mind swimming with arousal and impending remorse, you fear you may not be able to control yourself much longer, consequences be damned.

He’s not expecting you to reach out.

Why would you? You’d mutually agreed on that night in his car being a one time thing — just a hookup; something he would’ve done before meeting Carol. Something he should probably be doing more often now. Except you’ve somehow sunk your teeth in him, injected him with a sort of venom.

Because all he can think about is seeing you again.

It’s wrong — beyond wrong. You’re so young; still in college, for christ sake. He never met you before the other night, but he’d been stationed overseas with your father when your mother was pregnant with you. He still remembers reading the letters she’d sent in care packages over his shoulder, the ones detailing her symptoms, what foods she was craving.

Strawberries. She always wanted strawberries. Maybe that’s why you’re so sweet.

He’s never been with a woman like you; never had someone trust him with so much vigor. Your needy little pleas, your vehement obedience, your desperation to take all of him in the driver’s seat of his car — you are nothing short of intoxicating.

Still, he tells himself you’re off limits. Trudges through the days that follow with the thought of you bouncing in his lap fogging his head. Struggles to focus at work and recovers in an increasingly poor manner when called on in meetings.

And then, late on a Friday night, you text him.

He only knows it’s you because you tell him so — your full name flashing across the screen followed by an apology for messaging him so late. You say you’re out with friends, and he’d probably have guessed anyway by the typos littering your sentences.

Seconds after the first, another text comes through:

[1:23am] csnt stop thinking about u. pls see me again i promise i won’t twll anyone

Fuck. Fuck.

His muscles tense; his cock twitches in his boxers. And before he does something stupid, like responds, he sets the phone face down on his bedside table. Stalks off to the bathroom with the intention of taking an icy-cold shower, detoxing himself best he can.

He hasn’t even closed the door yet when he hears it ring.

The rhythmic jingle drones through his studio apartment, and he all but leaps at the noise. Sure enough, it's you, calling him drunk in the middle of the night.

His head swims. He presses ‘answer’ anyway.

“David?” Your voice sounds so sugary-sweet, cloying with innocence. He can hear people in the background, maybe your friends, talking about getting another round of drinks.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asks first. You tell him yes; say you're waiting on a rideshare.

He exhales. And even though hearing you is making him dizzy with a fucked up sort of desire, echoes of your pleasured sounds ringing in his ears, he manages to maintain composure when you say, “can I please come over?”

“Don't think that's the best idea,” he mutters. The lack of conviction in his words would likely be painfully obvious if you weren't intoxicated. But you are, and you whine through the receiver at his rejection.

Dave fights to ignore the increasing stiffness in his boxers.

“Please,” you beg. Fuck, he loves the way you sound when you beg. “I just got off the phone with my dad…he doesn't want me coming home so drunk; said he's working on a case and I’ll be a nuisance.”

His heart breaks for you. For the girl who just wants a father who loves her, who sees her as a person with feelings. Dave can't imagine ever treating his daughters this way. Would never dream of it.

“C-can I?” your voice sounds through the speaker again — softer, less sure. Like you've prepared yourself already for the blow of him rejecting you too.

“Can't– can’t you stay with one of your friends?”

You sigh, defeated. “I want to stay with you.”

It’s not that he doesn’t want to. God, it would be so easy to say yes. To go and pick you up from the bar himself, bring you back to his place. Help you sober up a bit and fuck you until you can't take it anymore. But he can’t; he shouldn't even be speaking to you right now. He needs to cut this off. Needs to make it clear to you that you can't reach out to him again.

“You– we can’t.” He’s stern, direct. It pains him. “The other night shouldn’t have happened.” True, though he doesn’t regret it. Not one bit.

You’re quiet on the other end of the line for a second too long. When you finally do speak again, your voice breaks.

“You don’t like me?”

He’s going to tell you that of course that’s not it, that he’s been thinking about you constantly, that he wishes he could get you out of his fucking head. But he doesn’t get the chance. Because your friends are laughing boisterously around you, then, sounds growing more and more muffled through the speaker, and you’re telling him rather unceremoniously that you have to go.

The call disconnects with a beep.

You wake the following morning with a dizzying headache, daylight burning a hole between your eyes. With your friend still soundly asleep, you slip out of her room and then her apartment; find yourself home just as your father is getting ready to leave for work.

His travel mug sits on the entrance table as he pulls his shoes on, and you're immediately met with the smells of coffee and his leathery cologne.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” he mutters as he grabs his briefcase. You don't dare look him in the eyes, lest you be met with their disapproving stare.

“Hi,” you reply, small and non confrontational. When he doesn't answer, you continue past him, begin your ascent up the stairs toward your room.

“Not very appropriate for a young professional, going out and getting wasted. Your future employer could've been there. Could've seen you acting like an imbecile.”

Annoyance furls behind your temples; makes the pounding in your head grow tenfold.

“Well then they probably won't be my future employer,” you snip.

“Probably not.”

You hear the front door close behind you and, with an agitated sigh, drag your feet the rest of the way up the stairs. You fall onto the covers of your bed, well aware that you should probably shower, but your body feels too heavy, in no way ready to move again just yet.

When you pull out your phone, ready for some mindless scrolling to numb your thoughts for a while, you’re met with a notification that sends your heart racing.

Have fun last night?

From David, sent five minutes ago.

You hastily scroll up, reading your own texts from last night, full of typos and barely coherent. csnt stop thinking about u. Your head falls back with a groan. You had gone out to forget about him, not to drunkenly confess your feelings to him in the middle of the night.

Now that you’re thinking about it, you also vaguely recall speaking to him. You tap on your call log and sure enough, there’s his name, only minutes after you texted him. You have no idea what you might have said to him, only a blurry memory of being upset about something. Great, this is great.

Sighing deeply, you go back to messages.

i was very drunk. sorry for bothering you

His reply comes almost instantly.

Who said you bothered me?

You’ve only met him once, and yet you can picture his smirk as if you’ve seen it a thousand times.

Dave is sipping his coffee, black, no sugar, and listens to Jim going over his plans for the both of them going golfing next weekend, humming occasionally.

It pains him, looking at the man in front of him, while your voice from last night is still ringing through his head. How hurt you sounded, looking for a place to stay, not being welcome in your own home.

When Jim stands up to leave for work, he remains seated, gesturing towards his half eaten bagel, but assuring the other man that he doesn’t have to wait for him.

You still haven’t left his thoughts. If anything, the longing he feels for you has gotten worse since you told him how much you want to see him again. And he’s so tired of denying himself the one thing he really wants.

He’s patient, chipping away at the bagel until he sees your father’s gray Dodge peel out of the parking lot. And then he gives it another 10 minutes, just to be safe.

Come join me for coffee? I’m downtown at Roasted Beans.

You respond moments later — such an obedient little thing, you are — letting him know you’ll be there shortly. He finishes off his drink, discards the cup along with the bagel wrapper, and orders two fresh coffees.

He sees you before you see him. Eyes wide, lips parted ever so slightly, you look so cute as you scan the cafe. You’re wearing a sundress, the blue fabric dancing around your thighs with every turn of your body, and Dave finds himself entranced by you.

You smile when you finally catch sight of him, your entire face lighting up and he smiles back without a second thought.

You shouldn’t meet him again. You really, really shouldn’t. But the conversation with your father this morning keeps replaying in your head, the disapproval weighing heavy on you, the feeling of being unable to do anything right.

You long for someone to look at you without judgment, for the sound of good girl against your skin. You long for David.

After last night and the fact that he obviously didn’t invite you over, you had thought that for him, maybe it really had been a just one time thing. Like you both had agreed on multiple times.

But then he’d texted you again, asking you to meet him. It’s almost embarrassing, how quickly you got ready, eager to see him again, despite knowing better.

On the drive over, you run through countless discussions in your head, trying to decide what you’re going to say to him. You have to be reasonable. There’s too much at stake. David is a mistake that you wouldn’t be able to come back from. You’re just going to meet him because he asked you to, because that’s the nice thing to do. It’ll just be coffee, nothing more.

Your resolve crumbles as soon as you see him. His eyes are already on you, their expression so full of want that it makes you ache. You walk over, feigning confidence as you slide onto the chair next to his, a quiet greeting on your lips. The deep, smooth sound of his voice when he returns it is enough to make you melt.

He has already ordered for you. It’s a small thing, rationally, but it’s once again more care, more attention than you’re used to. Warmth is spreading through your chest, but you try steeling yourself, forcing out the words that you’ve prepared to say.

“Listen, I want to apologize about last night. I shouldn’t have– I wasn’t thinking straight, I’m sorry for bothering–”

“Hey, sweetheart.” He interrupts your nervous stuttering, his hand gently wrapping around yours on the table. “I already told you that you didn’t bother me. If anything–” He sighs, his grip tightening. “I’m the one who’s sorry, you were looking for somewhere to stay, I shouldn’t have turned you down like that.”

It breaks Dave’s heart, seeing how you’re making yourself smaller, how ready you seem for him to scold you. Your quiet You don’t like me? still echoes in his mind. How your own father didn’t care where his daughter spent the night, as long as she didn’t come home. Didn’t bother him.

He clocked the way your eyes widened in surprise at the coffee that he got you, how you huff a relieved breath when he assures you again that he’s not annoyed with you. You’re so sweet, so deserving of being loved and cared for, and he so desperately wants to be the person who does that for you.

He felt the same pull from that night towards you as soon as he laid eyes on you again, and it’s only gotten worse, now that you’re right next to him, now that he’s touching the soft surface of your hand. He vividly remembers how your skin felt under his fingertips, how you writhed against him.

The urge to get just a taste of that again becomes overwhelming. He holds your gaze as his fingers start gliding over your thighs under the table, inching towards the hem of your dress. Your lips part, the softest whimper escaping your throat at his touch.

He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t be touching you like this, shouldn’t be thinking about you like this. Can’t stop thinking about you. I want to stay with you. How is he supposed to keep away, to stop himself, when you come to him so willingly, so desperate to be wanted?

“David?” Fuck, he loves that you call him that. “Will you take me home with you? Please?”

He can tell that you’re scared to ask, bracing yourself to be rejected again. He’s not nearly as strong as you think he is.

“Yes. Come on.”

He pulls you to your feet and out of the door before either of you have the chance to change your minds.

He’s a bad man, shouldn’t be getting off on having total control over you like this. He’s probably sick; should see that shrink Carol recommended a couple months ago after the divorce was officially finalized. But the way you’re looking at him — with the same big-eyed, doleful stare you’d given him that first night — tells him you want this. Need this, even. You long to relinquish control to someone other than your hawkish father.

So pliant in his lap, limbs all gooey and relaxed under his touch, it’s clear that you trust him. Maybe more than he trusts himself.

You’re spread out on his couch, clothes hastily discarded as soon as the both of you stumbled over the threshold, already entangled in each other. He’s led you to the living room, the thought of fucking you in his bed, of your presence lingering there, your scent permeating his sheets, the last invisible line that he’s determined not to cross.

He has been toying with your body, collected your wrists in a hold over your head and told you to keep them there while he flicked and tugged on your nipples, sucked marks into your skin while you writhed underneath him.

He’s taking it slow, now that you’re here with him, now that he has the time to thoroughly break you down and put you back together again.

You’re already soaked when he sinks a finger into you, your tight walls clenching around him immediately. You coo up at him — a needy little noise that has his resolve disintegrating in seconds flat — and you look relieved when his hand loosely wraps around your throat.

“Please,” you whisper then, and he tuts.

“You want me to take care of you?”

You nod.

“Then you take what I give you. No begging. Do I make myself clear?”

Another noise — this one smaller, stuck in your throat — and he’s pulling his finger out of you again, lips curling into a cruel smile.

He doesn’t give you any time to prepare before the first slap lands on your already-throbbing clit. You can’t help but shriek. In response, he tightens the grip on your throat slightly. Gives three more stinging smacks in quick succession. Dave almost doesn’t notice when your eyes begin to roll back. He does notice, however, when your hips begin to roll upward, your body chasing his hand.

“Oh, such a good girl you are,” he praises.

Slap.

“You love this, don’t you?”

“Mhm,” you moan, garbled and a little breathless.

Slap.

“Pathetic little girl. Bet you could come just from this, you’re so desperate. Couldn’t you?”

You gasp.

Slap.

“Answer me,” Dave demands. “Or I’ll stop.”

It’s almost comical how quickly you sputter the word yes, eyes desperately pleading with him to keep going. And he’s almost shocked just how badly you needed this. In this moment, any guilt he’d been feeling is replaced with the desperate desire to give you exactly what you crave.

He slaps you again, a little harder this time, and you wail. Your legs are trembling, but you make no move to close them, keeping yourself spread wide open and accessible for him.

He’s throbbing, fighting the urge to sink his cock into your tight heat, but he wants, needs to know how far he can push you. How far you’ll go for him.

You’re dripping onto his cushions and he collects some of your slick with his fingers, rubs them against your clit. Your skin is burning under his fingertips. He teases the oversensitive nub with gentle touches, relishes in the way your eyes are glued to his face, the way your lips are trembling as you’re silently pleading with him.

No words are escaping you, and you’re so good, making him so proud with how you’re following his commands.

He slaps your clit again, and again, and again, until you’re a babbling mess, your throat constricting against his grip and your back arching as you come with a cry. Wetness floods out of you and you’re shuddering in his hold, broken whimpers of his name falling from your lips.

He watches with sick fascination, almost unable to believe that he drove you to this point. How much you enjoy being treated like this. That you’re just as twisted as he is.

When you come down, your arms weakly reach for him and he scoops you up, pulls you into his lap until your face is nuzzled into his neck.

“Good girl,” he coos, gently stroking your hair, “you did so good.”

He gives you a few moments to rest, tracing shapes across your back, until his fingers dip deeper, gliding over your ass and between your spread legs, where you’re still so fucking wet.

You squirm under his touch, needy little sounds traveling up to his ears once more. “Please,” you whisper.

One hand grabs into your hair, pulling your head back until he can see your face. You look wrecked. Pupils blown wide, your eyes wet with tears, but what really gets him is the way you look at him. He had worried, for a second, that he might have been too rough, but there’s only pure trust and longing in your eyes.

“I thought I told you no begging.”

You bite your lip, furrow your brow in that adorable way of yours. “I’m sorry. It just– it all feels so good.”

He presses his thumb down on your bottom lip, releasing it from your teeth.

“I know it does, sweetheart. You need more?”

You nod quietly, your eyes wide and pleading.

“Alright then.” He turns you over so quickly that you gasp, scrambling for a second to get your bearings. You’re on all fours, your legs still spread, your ass on display for him.

He had wanted to prepare you a little more, to give you several of his fingers first before he stretches you out on his cock, but he can’t possibly hold back any longer. Judging from the loud moan that you let out, he thinks that you like the sting of him sinking into you unprepared.

It’s even better than he remembers, your slick walls engulfing him so tightly. He starts pounding into you, the depth of his thrusts jolting your body forward and forcing more sounds from you.

He wants you to still feel him tomorrow, wants you to remember him, wants to stake a claim that he knows he doesn’t have. He groans your name, his fingers digging into your hips, greedy for every part of you that he can reach.

Perfect, you’re so fucking perfect, giving yourself to him like this.

“Come on,” he growls, reaching down to find your clit again, rubbing in tight circles. “Give me another one.”

You cry out, pushing back against him. So fucking eager. He lands two quick slaps on your ass and you fall apart, trembling wildly as your walls pulse around him and you scream out his name.

He can’t hold himself back any more and follows you over the edge, pumping into you once more and holding your hips pressed against his.

You both collapse down onto his couch, a mess of tangled, sweaty limbs and quick breaths. You curl your body into his and he presses kisses against your cheeks, your temples, your lips.

Slowly, as he’s coming back to his senses, the guilt settles in.

He lets go of you much too quickly, stands up and starts getting dressed quietly. You watch him for a moment, wracking your mind for something to say, before he looks at you.

“Get dressed. I’ll drive you home.”

He sounds cold, distant. So different from the man who just took you to heights that you didn’t know existed until now. You suppress a shiver and get up hastily. Suddenly, being naked around him feels much too exposed, too vulnerable for your liking.

You pull your dress over your head and slide your shoes back on, but one crucial item is missing.

“Did– did you see my underwear?” you force yourself to ask. He shakes his head, not gracing you with a verbal answer.

Eventually, you give up the search and follow him down the stairs and into his car. The silence grows, until its weight is pressing down, almost suffocating you. You steal glances at him, but his eyes are fixed on the road, staring straight ahead, never wavering. A muscle in his jaw is ticking.

The mix of his spend and yours is pooling between your legs, but it makes you feel dirty now. You force down the lump that’s building in your throat.

When he stops in front of your house, you scramble out of the car without a word. You don’t know what would be worse, if he said goodbye like nothing was wrong or if he remained silent. You don’t want to find out.

It’s late in the evening, you’re lying on your bed, eyelids squeezed shut, willing sleep to finally overtake you. Thoughts keep spiraling through your head, so many questions that you have no answers to.

He asked you to meet up, for fuck’s sake. You don’t understand why he’s treating you like this, but you’re determined to not let it happen again. Just two times, you think with a bitter scoff.

Your phone vibrates on your bedside table, indicating a new message.

[11:55pm] I can’t stop thinking about you either.

Attached is a photo. A photo of a familiar lacy scrap of fabric, grasped in his hand and covered in milky white cum.

It’s filthy, and wrong, and you feel yourself getting obscenely wet at the thought of him touching himself with your missing panties clutched between his fingers.

Maybe just one more time.

thank you for reading 🤍 if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask, it truly makes my day every single time!

[yandere-sins]

Yan-Poll #25

You held back the sobs that threatened to spill from your lips, clasping your hands over your mouth in an attempt to muffle yourself.

Part of you wished you hadn't heard the plans the cultists had for you. Ignorance was bliss, after all, and had you known how this would end, you'd never come close to these people in the first place. All you wanted was to understand them, to write your article, and be done with it. You didn't know it would end in you getting sacrificed to the god they worshipped.

Human sacrifice, who'd even do that in this day and age?

You thought everything was going well. You spoke with the members, worked with them, and ate at their table. Even if you disagreed with their views, you saw them as the humans they were, perhaps a little desperate for recognition from a god that may or may not exist but human at their cores. They didn't scream "crazy fanatics" to you, but it seems you were delusional, thinking they were normal.

"Fuck," you whispered to yourself. You shouldn't have been out here in the dark per their rules, but some friendly folks invited you for drinks at their cabins, and you didn't want to overstay your welcome. Even when they asked you to stay, you just wanted to return to your camper for a good night's sleep. Now, a part of you wishes you had listened.

But then again, what good would have not knowing done for you? You'd probably have gone along when they prettied you up for an initiation, thinking you'd get some good stuff for your article. You'd never known until these mad people had killed you, following them blindly like a lamb to slaughter.

"Someone there?" one of the cultists suddenly called out, and you jumped, quickly turning the other way to run. You just needed to get back to your camper, and you'd be out of here, gone, never to return. And you'd tell everyone about what you witnessed so it may never happen again!

With a yelp, you were tugged back, the inviting darkness torn to shreds by a flashlight. "Ah, you," one of the cultists said. You watched his face contort as he took in the obvious horror etched into yours. He looked almost... sad. Almost.

"That's not how... you shouldn't have—"

"Stop dallying, let's get them to the priest."

A second cultist approached, looking stern and unimpressed. He took your wrist from the first one, and when you began to brace your feet into the ground, the struggle ensued between you two. You screamed into the night when the first cultist wrapped his arms around you, too, covering your mouth with his hand as the two of them dragged you away to meet up with the priest.

You screamed and bit, but it was no use other than you agitating the two cultists further. Even when you thrashed and threw your body against them to knock them off balance, you didn't win against the two men, who almost seemed trained to handle these situations. Tears dripped down your face as the helplessness overwhelmed you. Was this how you were going to die? Would they kill you now?

After being dragged through grass and mud, the sound of steps on wooden planks as you enter the priest's cabin were deafening loud. Like the announcement of your death sentence. The struggle ceased as you lost the strength in the face of your killer, the surprise twisting into despair as the priest of this cult watched you being brought in.

"What is the meaning of this?" the priest asked as if he were innocent in all of this. He immediately stepped to your side and knelt down, your legs having long forgotten how to stand as you sat on the floor, weeping. Brushing the tears off your face, he made the other two stop handling you like a wild animal, your arms and body falling forward as you were released.

"Sir, they heard us talk about the ritual. We didn't mean to. We were preparing the site and thought everyone was asleep."

You couldn't look up even as anger flooded your mind. How dare they make it sound like it was your fault! As if you ruined something! But gripped with fear, you couldn't utter a word before the priest who held your life in his hands.

The priest sighed heavily, shaking his head. "You fools... Leave us!"

There was a moment of stunned silence before the two tried to argue, "But Sir..."

"Leave! You've done enough!"

Unsure footsteps made the ground shake as the two men left, and you almost felt like you could breathe again. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Dear. Come," the priest muttered, helping you up. With confusion clouding your mind, you let yourself be directed down into a chair next to the fireplace, the warmth prickling against your skin, fear having drained you of most of your body heat.

You had never been alone with the priest before, he seemed to have always avoided you, perhaps not trusting your intentions to write an article about the cult. He even told you to leave regularly in the beginning. And you had an inkling why, considering he was planning to sacrifice you.

"I don't want to die," you sobbed, scared but also hoping your tears could deter him. The man kneeled on the ground before you, his large hands falling to your knees, his thumb brushing back and forth reassuringly.

"I know, Darling. I know, but we have to. I sent you away so many times, but you wouldn't listen. I can't help you, I can't—"

His sentence broke off as he let his head fall, defeated. You didn't believe him, couldn't. Someone who thought that it was a necessary evil to kill someone was no one you should trust.

"Please just let me go! No one has to know!"

"Oh, Darling. They'd go after you. They already sliced the wheels of your car, and you'd not escape them in the woods alone."

You gulped at the revelation that you were already so deep in this misery, never even having checked if your camper was still useable while you spent your days frolicking with the cultists. Cellphone service was almost non-existent, but still! You couldn't die here! You were scared, but you had to try and convince the priest to let you go!

"Please let me try, I beg you! I won't tell them you let me go, I promise!"

"I—" the priest started, words caught in his throat as he stared. You guessed he was torn between two sides, but against your expectations, he didn't seem as bad of a person as you had feared. Then again, that's what you had thought about all the cultists.

"There... There's another way," he finally muttered, lowering his gaze to his hands on top of your knees. You thought you saw a hint of excitement and shame in his eyes, his lips quivering as he formed the words.

"I have yet to take a spouse. They wouldn't dare lay a hand on who I've chosen, and I... I'd like it if it were you."

The brushing of his thumb over your legs resumed a bit more forceful now. You felt sick hearing these deceiving words of safety, the undertone of greed and lust thicker than any sermon in church. You've learned from the others just how long this priest had served them faithfully, the most devoted and fanatic of them all.

And yet, when he looked at you, you saw the awe in his eyes, the sickening adoration of a devotee. It was almost as if he worshipped you more than his god, as if doing this wasn't a betrayal to the one he swore his loyalty to.

You'd never been so close, never thought twice about this priest, who had probably never been around anyone but the cultist all his life. You were likely something special, someone extraordinary in his eyes; at least, that's what his adoring gaze told you. But what if he started to make demands in exchange? Could you withstand them? Still, it might be your only chance! If you convinced him to keep you safe, you could play him and wander around the encampment to find something to help you—even escape in the daylight.

You'd make it through the dangerous night alive.

You could still run. Punch this guy in the face and never look back as you bolted, but if the preparations had been made, cultists out and about working on this sacrifice, could you really get away far enough before they noticed? Maybe it was worth playing it safe... You had no idea what would happen if you agreed to join hands with the priest. Still, perhaps it was worth it, considering you might die out in the forest, lost and in pain after hurting yourself if you simply ran.

No matter how easy the priest tried to make the decision seem, begging you with lovesick eyes to agree to his terms, you had trouble figuring it out. It had to be made, and quickly! Before anyone would come to find you and proceed with the original plan to sacrifice you!

(Reasoning and discussions welcome! ♥)

[squiddy-god]

general hcs for dorm leaders

Re-upload from terminated blog squid-god-supreme

Riddle Rosehearts ❤🌹❤

Is slightly more lenient with you then others but will still 100% scolded you if you break the rules

Will be the happiest boy if you make him sweets like tarts. Please cook for him. Please be gentle with him.

Gets all pouty and blushy if you tease him (especially about his height if your taller then him)

Gets super flustered if you h*old h*nds with him

Not big on pda as it’s against school rules but maybe a lil bitty kissy here and there won’t hurt

Floyd teases him endlessly about how cute you two are, his little shrimpy and goldfish together makes the eel twin so happy

Please be gentle with him and let him know that it’s ok to mess up sometimes

He would not hesitate to pop off at someone for talking shit about you. Talk down to his s/o and it’s off with your head

Riddles Jealousy is rooted in both protectiveness and insecurity. Riddle wants to protect you, make you happy so if he sees you with bad influences he gets jealous, but he won’t say anything just get pouty. The other half is with the insecurity that you’d want someone more layed back or who yells less

Is jealous of Floyd, Leona and kalim as they are generally layed back and “more fun”

Azul Ashengrotto 💜🐙💜

Even After you two get together it takes azul a long time to fully trust you, the man has walls and oh boy are they thicc

Once he knows 100% he can trust you, he does almost a complete 180, suddenly azul is kinda dorkyand more open, granted still a little closed off.

DO NOT play monopoly with this man! He will reck your shit. The man will con you into paper debt and his web of hotels that litter the bord

Is confident enough in public to hold your hand and maybe give it a gentlemanly kiss, but on the inside? Azul. Exe has stopped working, please call idia for tech support

Sometimes he needs consoleing, he’s insecure and he wants a relationship were you two can lift each other up

The tweels tease him MERCILESSLY~ oh hoho little baby azul finally got a s/o~

LOVES to just like? Hold you gently? And just like? Be SOfT with you?

If someone talks down to his s/o he’s still calm on the outside but inside? Bubbling rage. He won’t have someone bullying his s/o. It’s leech time.

His jealousy is almost completely rooted in insecurity. He’s done bad things and he’s worried you want someone who Hasn’t, someone who’s a better person and who can make you happier, he will simply sulk about his jealousy

He’s Jealous of Jack, Carter and even a little bit jealous of idia as for the most part they are good people without a shady past

Vil Schoenheit ✨🍎✨

His precious potato, but don’t get him rong, you’re the most stunning lil potato

Spa days! So many spa days with vil, he has to keep both of your skin flawless ✨

Your the only one who gets to see him without makeup on. He trust you to see him in a more vulnerable state

Get ready to watch rom-coms and judge the shit fashion and actions of the main girl every Friday night

Yes you may be a (stunning) potato but God forbid anyone talk down to you. In his eyes you’re 1000x better than the other potatos so how dare someone talk shit about you. A couple rumors later and that persons image is ruined.

He’s 50/50 with pda. On one hand it messed up his makeup if you kiss him and wrinkles his clothes big you hug him, so hell no, but on the other hand he loves to show you off. So maybe some hand holding and just being close to him.

Plans super romantic dates in cute Athstetic cafes and spas

You best fucking believe your outfits match! The amount of planning vil go’s through is honestly super cute.

Do his hair in pretty braids it makes him melt

Vils jealousy is routed in absolute bullshit and emotional Insucutiys. Vil doesn’t get jealous often because how could you ever want to leave someone as beautiful as him so seeing you eye someone is fine as he knows he’s better, but seeing you be friendly with others? Hella jealous. He won’t admit it but he’s afraid you’ll leave him for someone less self centered.

He gets jealous of rook, jade, and hella jealous of idia (witch pisses him off because idia is a emo shut in, but vil doesn’t want another ghost bride Incident) this is because they are less self-centered but still attractive (even idia lmao but he won’t admit it. Ever.)

Malleus Draconia 🖤🐉🖤

Legit thinks you are the cutest thing ajdjsiksd his cute little child of man

You don’t know how his fae heart swoons when you invite him on dates or on little walks to class

If your awake and willing he’ll invite you to come with him on midnight walks

His favorite dates are walks through the forest and cute picnics were you can talk away from prying eyes

He doesn’t see why pda is considered bad, but also doesn’t do much of it, its a human thing he doesn’t understand, He’ll hold your hand and give you head kisses but if he goes to far please tell him. He wants to respect your boundaries

Imagine if you will, going on a midnight stroll with malleus through the woods, the moon is full and lights the woods, after a while, now deep in the woods, you and malleus just stand there and start to sway back and forth.

Eventually your softly dancing and falling sleepy, malleus kisses your head and leads you back to ramshackle, tucks you in, and then gos back to disomnia (might write that)

I pray for the poor bastard who is stupid brave enough to bullying or talk shit about the s/o of malleus draconia. That’ll stop real quick, and oh boy if they decide to physically hurt you? Hahahaha don’t.

He doesn’t get jealous often but when he does it’s out of protectiveness and Insucutiys, he wants to protect you as you are his s/o and a small child of man, he also knows he’s typically a loner and is very intimidating, because of this he fears you’ll leave for someone more extroverted and less intimidating

He’s jealous of kalim, ruggie and ace as they extroverted and easily Aprochable

Leona kingscholar 🧡🦁🧡

Lazy days and mid afternoon naps are his go-to dates

Get ready to have to drag him out of his room so that he can go to class

Will be grumpy with everyone but like is super soft with you

Brags about how he has a s/o, and how they are awesome

When he isn’t sleeping, dates are simple and cute, likes taking you on walks around campus or watching movies with snuggles

He loves to watch you cook so he can 1) eat food 2) walk up behind you and wrap his arms around you

Let’s you put little braids in his hair and likes when you do it while he sleeps

Please let he sleep in your lap, please, he needs it.

Gives not a single fuck about pda. If he’s goona kiss you then other people can fuck off. Will hold your hand if you initiate it

Ok look, generally he doesn’t give a fuck about things like drama and such so if someone talks shit it’s annoying but he doesn’t do much, but, on the occasion that this “drama” Happens to be someone bullying or HURTING his s/o? They best prepare to get punched

His jealousy is rooted in protectiveness and possessiveness. Leona is slightly possessive of you, nothing serious or even close to yandere-ish, more of like “ok but whhhyyyyy can’t you nap with me all day your MY s/O and I’m YOUR bf ” And he also wants to protect you. Get more protective after the bolt thing.

Gets jealous of Jack, and his nephew

Kalim Al-asim 💛☀💛

Your relationship is honestly so wholesome and sweet it gives jamil cavities

Surprisingly, he’s a lot more calm around you! Don’t get me rong he’s still happy go lucky and hyper but he can also be soft and calm-ish

Dates are always spontaneous and super fun! His favorite dates are at amusement parks or party’s!

Will enthusiastically drag you around to play games and have fun around the park!

Soft giggles and morning cuddles are absolutely precious

100% has you as his lock screen with hears ‘n such and it’s adorable because yours is the same but with him

He trusts you so much that he shares alot with you, like if he’s feeling sad or even a little jealous he’ll tell you because he trusts you!

If someone is talking crap then he’ll confront them about being rude but won’t get physical, he’ll be protective and try to console you.

Doesn’t really get jealous much but when he does it’s just him pouting that you arnt spending enough time with him.

He jets jealous ace and deuce because they spend a lot of time with you

Idia shroud 💙💀💙

Precious shy goth boy is shy

Will be randomly thinking about you and he just loves you so much he combusts, literally. He’ll be thinking about you and then fwoom suddenly his hair is as red as his cheeks and the room is on fire

At first he’s super, super shy about physical affection and even a hand on his shoulder sets him on fire, After a while he’s still a shy boy and stutters but he’s more comfortable… And a absolute cuddle monster. He wants to have you sit in his lap while he games or programs, or just cuddle you and play on the switch

Dates are 98%in his room, watching cheesey horror movies and anime, if it’s not a cute inside date it’s taking orto to the park because your the only one who can get idia outside, or it’s cute little walks

When he has to go outside and he inevitably starts getting paranoid and panicked you calm him down, not completely but enough to be at least some what ok.

how can he do pda if he’s always inside? Jkjk , if he is outside it’s almost always with you. He’s way to shy so almost no pda, I say almost because he still wants to be close to you as you make him less anxious. He’ll always lock pinkies

You know he’s panicking not only because he shakes slightly and looks terrified, but also because his large hands with completely engulfe yours

You the background of all his PC monitors

Hears people talk shit and the tips of his hair turns red, and if he finds out some one is actively bullying you he’s super angry and kinda blames himself because he knows how it feels (if he also isn’t being bullied) but after that he straight up black mails them/ruins their lives. Gods forbid someone physically hurts you because he almost sets Ignyhide dorm on fire, if he ruind their lives before, oh boy are they goona get it. Might actually straight up almost beat someone to death before sulking and isolating for the next century.

Idia is very insecure and often sullks or gets grumpy when jealous. His jealousy is routed in insecurity. He’s afraid you’ll leave him for literally anything, he’s a naturally dark person and also a antisocial weeb, the shroud family are the long relatives of Hades and cursed with death and sadness to fallow close behind, you know this and he’s afraid you’ll leave him.

Is jealous of Azul (a lot) kalim and Leona (hella lot)

[ponderingmoonlight]

How JJK men react to different insecurities Part 2

Pairings: Nanami x reader who doesn't want kids (requested by anons) Gojo x reader who gained weight (requested by anon) Megumi x reader who has a hooked nose (requested by @monikosworld)

Word Count: 3,2k

Warnings: as usual, please don't read if you feel triggered by those topics, Nanami's and Gojo's part are a little angst to extreme fluff, remember you are beautiful just the way you are (all those JJK men agree with me after all) and none of those insecurities take away from that 🤍

Especially for this series I'm very thankful for every feedback in terms of comments, likes and/or reblogs since it's pretty challenging for me to write 🤍

click here for Part 1 with Nanami (reader with facial scars), Megumi (reader with small breasts) and Sukuna (reader with acne)

Also, I wish everyone of you the happiest holidays ever! May all your dreams and wishes come true and remember to stay just the way you are - you are perfect 🌹

Kento Nanami with a reader who doesn't want kids

Your heart skips a beat when his gaze meets yours, his elegant steps trapping you in place. God, how is it possible for a man to be this gorgeous, how is it even allowed for him to look this good? When you first met Kento Nanami, you fell in love with him at first sight. Nothing about this man could ever throw you off.

Except for the stinging fact that he seems like the perfect father.

The way he acts especially around Yuji Itadori warms and breaks your heart at the same time. Even though he never specifically said that he wants to have children someday, you can just tell by the loving gleam in his eyes when Yuji isn’t paying attention how much he cares for that boy. And while you get why he feels this way, it makes your guts turn.

You never wanted kids. Not your own, not adopted, not a single thought of urging for a baby ever crossed your mind. You love your life the way it is, maybe with a pet when you finally settled in, but children? They were never part of the plan.

But this is important, right? How would it even be possible for a romantic relationship to work when such a life-changing decision differs? You don’t even have to ask him about this. The way he always saves children first, how he acts towards the young students, his dad-like appearance when something happens to them. Oh, how you love it and hate it at the same time. Over the past months, you grew very close to each other, spent evening after evening at each other’s places. He began to bring you flowers on a regular basis, even cuddling you to sleep when you come back from an exhausting mission.

You can’t give him more, though. Not when it’s so obvious that you want different things in life, not when your relationship is going to fail before it even started.

“There you are, I searched everywhere for you.”

He presses a gentle kiss against your cheek, making your heart ache in agony all over again. How are you supposed to get out of this? Damn, you don’t even want to get out, you want to be by his side until the end of time, you want to fall asleep and wake up next to this man. But deep down, you know this isn’t fair, that it isn’t possible to live a life like this without giving up your principles or forcing him to give up the thought of having children someday.

“There is something very important I wanted to talk about for a long time. (y/n), you make me feel better than I ever did in my entire life, the time I have with you is so precious to me that I can’t even put it into words. I know this might sound strange and I don’t know if this is the correct way to do it but I was wondering if you…if you want to make it official.”

You feel like fainting and throwing up at the same time, eyes for a single spark of humour in his gleaming orbs. This is great!

Your heart sinks.

No, actually it isn’t. Because this is the time you’ll have to push him away. This innocent question is the end of the wonderful thing you’ve had. Why? Why are you so suborn? Why is the thought of having children so disgusting for you? Aren’t you able to change for the love of your life, for the sake of the strong feelings you have for Kento Nanami?

You shake your head, hands clenched into tight fists. No. There is absolutely no way you’ll gift Kento a child just to keep him. This wouldn’t be fair, right? Fair for you, fair for the child, fair for Kento. He deserves someone who loves this idea truly, someone who is able to give him what he needs.

And that someone isn’t you.

“I can’t give you what you want, Kento.”

Your monotone voice catches him off guard, your words cracking his heart like a walnut. This doesn’t make any sense, it seems almost unbelievable.

“But you are what I want, (y/n).”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about”, you bark so suddenly that he flinches, crossing your arms in front of your chest and staring at the ground.

“I can’t give you what you want, the future you deserve.”

“What is it that you’re insecure about? Why would you think there is something you aren’t able to give me?”

“I don’t want kids”, you mutter.

He draws closer, hands about to gently grab your chin when you slap his hand away furious.

“I don’t want kids!”, you shout.

Fuck, why do your eyes have to burn in hot tears right now, why do you have to feel so miserable about this? It’s nothing uncommon, you are enough without having children, you are…

You are not what he wants. And that’s what hurts the most.

Thick silence hangs between both of you, Kento’s hand resting in the air. You don’t even dare to look at him, his face of disappointment would be more than you are able to handle. Why didn’t you tell him sooner? Why did you allow yourself to fall for him when you knew right from the start that this won’t work out long-term?

“Is that what you’re feeling so doubtful about? That you don’t want children?”

You nod silently, the big knot forming in your throat stopping you from saying another word. Breaking down and crying in front of him is the last thing you want to do right now.

“I don’t want children either.”

Oh.

Your glossy eyes dart up in an instant, his hands grabbing yours.

“Even though I will always care and look after children, I don’t want them to carry the burden of this world. I am a jujutsu sorcerer just like you are, we are doomed to risk our lives for the sake of others. I couldn’t forgive myself if I leave a child behind without its father, let alone you. Your wish isn’t a problem for me at all, (y/n).”

You have to blink a few times, mind desperately trying to process his words. The Kento Nanami doesn’t want kids. The thing you were always afraid of…

Isn’t even a problem.

“You don’t want kids as well”, you breathe out.

“I don’t want kids as well, yes.”

“Oh.”

Without hesitation, he pulls you into his arms. Is this a dream? Did it really turn out good? You were always rejected for not wanting children, for disliking the thought of raising a baby. But him, he looks at you with so much affection in his eyes that you almost tear up.

“And I admire you for standing your ground. I know how critical people are when it comes to a person who doesn’t want kids. I always appreciated you for your inner strength, (y/n).”

“I love you, Kento”, you blurt out.

You waste no time. In the matter of seconds, you press your lips longingly against his, set all your feelings free. This is everything you ever dreamed of, all you ever wanted.

Not only did you find a man who accepts you the way you are, but this man happens to me none other than Kento Nanami.

“I love you too, (y/n)”, he mumbles against your lips softly.

Satoru Gojo with a reader who gained some weight

You stare at the number on the scale, eyes watering in defeat. It shouldn’t surprise you that you gained a fair amount of weight. After all, you’ve been so stressed out these past months, roaming from mission to mission and only eating out in consequence. But this, this shocks you. This, this breaks you.

The keys of the main door turn, his long steps linger down the hallways. It’s because of him. Satoru Gojo, your precious boyfriend. The man who fell in love with you years ago and loved you ever since. He is such a good-looking and loving man. And in contrast to you, he’s as fit as he was at the beginning of your relationship.

With a swift motion you lock the bathroom door and let yourself glide down the cold tiles behind you, tears now running down your face like a waterfall. Why do you have to be so damn undisciplined? It shouldn’t be this hard to just eat less, it shouldn’t be this hard to have control over your body.

But it is. And that’s why you’re looking the way you do. It hit you like a wall when your clothes didn’t fit the way they did a few months ago, it almost killed you when a friend of you pointed out what you desperately tried to supress.

“Oh, you gained quite some weight, (y/n)! I almost didn’t recognize you.”

He doesn’t deserve this. No, Satoru deserves a partner who takes care of themselves, he deserves someone who is as fit as himself. Even though not a single negative comment about your body ever left his mouth, you know what he must think – just like everyone else.

And you hate yourself for letting it come this far.

“Babe, are you in there?”

The sound of his fingers knocking against the wooden door makes you panic. No, he can’t see you like this, the only thing you’re wearing is underwear and a t-shirt. The way your thighs giggle with every move, your visible belly, the stretch marks covering your thighs and arms…

He might leave you sooner or later.

“If you’re not answering, I’m just coming in-“

“No”, you interrupt him immediately.

“I don’t want to see you right now.”

It shouldn’t surprise you at all that he opens the door with ease, his feet coming to a stand in front of your cramped-up figure on the floor.

“You never said something like this to me. Hey, are you cryin’?”

Just when you’re about to turn away from him, he lifts you off the ground and presses your body against his faster than you could ever react. You want to hide in a tiny hole, disappear out of his arms. But instead, your eyes are locked with his bright blue orbs.

“What’s wrong babe? I’ve never seen you like this. A snack like you shouldn’t sit here all alone while cryin’.”

“Don’t call me a snack”, you bark at him with more force than intended.

God, how much you hate yourself at the moment. He doesn’t deserve the way you speak to him at all. To be honest, Satoru deserves so much better than you anyway and that fact alone kills you from the inside.

“Why, huh? Am I not allowed to call my girlfriend hot now?”

“I’M FAT, MORON!”

The venomous words escape your mouth before you are able to stop yourself, your pathetic sniffles hollering back at you in disgust. This is so ridiculous. You shouldn’t lash out at him because you feel bad about yourself, you shouldn’t even complain. After all, everything is your own fault.

“You have to be kidding, right? Is this some kind of joke, is a camera behind the mirror?”

You can’t get a hold of yourself anymore. With a swift motion you rip yourself out of his grasp and storm out of the room, not even listening to the things he shouts after you. Isn’t it humiliating enough that he made you say it out loud? Why would you joke about something like this? Your shaky hands grab your keys, ready to leave your shared apartment when he comes storming after you.

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. Just look at me, okay?”

Just before you are able to open the door, Satoru’s strong arms grab you from behind and pull you against his chest.

“Don’t you dare to say something like that ever again, (y/n). You’ve been through so much these last months and honestly, I love you more than I ever did before. I’m incredibly proud of the person you’ve became and you’ll always be the hottest chick around. I didn’t even notice that you gained a little weight and I give zero shits about it. You’re hot, you’re gorgeous, you are my girlfriend. And a single number on a random scale will never change that.”

Your whole body begins to tremble as you let yourself fall against him, a sniffle of relief escaping before you are able to stop it. Satoru was never good at playing with words, let alone showing his emotions linguistically. But those oh so sweet words that seem to heal your heart in an instant…

You are truly lucky to have him.

“You really don’t care that I gained some weight?”, you murmur, turning around in his arms in order so see his face.

“I couldn’t care less. And now get your cute ass back at the couch and watch some Netflix, okay?”

Megumi with a reader who has a hooked nose

Megumi can’t help but huff in disappointment when looking at you. There you are again, hiding your gorgeous face behind a mask. You do it day in and day out, stating this is very common and that you don’t want to breathe in all the dust and rubble from the big city.

But you lie. He can tell by the way your eyes dart to the ground and how a slight blush creeps up what’s visible of your cheeks. The first and last time he has seen your gorgeous face was when you wandered around the hallways late at night, obviously not expecting him to be around. You looked so scared back then, your hands instantly covering half of your face.

He always wondered why. Was it because your sense of smell is so good? Is it because he stinks? Instinctively, Megumi lifts up his arm and takes in his own scent. No, it doesn’t seem as if he’s the problem.

“Hi Megumi, how are you today?”

“Why are you always wearing that mask, (y/n)?”

Your heart stops for a second, widen eyes staring at the boy in front of you in nothing but shock. Oh, how often you already tried to fool him, how often you didn’t tell him how you feel. The truth is that you hate the way your nose looks. Every other girl seems to have the perfect little nose, perfectly shaped, cute and innocent.

But you? Your nose is hooked, not straight, tiny or cute by any means. The second you look into the mirror, it seems to stare right through your soul and makes all of your decent facial features fade into the background. Yes, you truly hate the way your nose looks so much that you rather hide it behind a mask each and every day. Especially from him.

Megumi has been your secret crush for quite some time by now, but you never had the courage to tell him, let alone ask him out. Why would he want to be with you anyway? With all those beautiful girls like Nobara and Maki surrounding him, you have nothing to give.

“W-what do you mean?”, you stutter, eyes meeting the ground in an instant.

“You told me over and over you do it because of the dust in the air, but that’s not true, isn’t it? Are you insecure about something?”

“I- you-, M-Megumi…”

You don’t know what to say, completely bamboozled by the way he seems to stare right through your soul. How did he find out you lied? Was it because your cheek turned bright pink? Or was it the fact that you weren’t even able to look in his eyes? Frantically, you try to find a way out of this misery. Maybe a new lie? No, he will smell it from a mile away. Being honest? He’ll definitely make fun of you. But this is Megumi, he isn’t-

“(y/n)”, he interrupts your train of thoughts.

“Let me take of that mask for you.”

You can’t move, let alone talk. With your eyes widen in horror you watch as his hands come closer and closer, fingertips gently gliding behind your ear. This is the moment you’ve been afraid of ever since meeting him. What if he scrunches up his face in disgust? What if he even laughs at you like all those children at school back then?

His eyes roam around your face for what feels like an eternity, face showing not a single emotion. Is this good? Is it bad? Your heart pounds against your ribcage, trembling fingertips intertwined with each other. Please, let this be over soon.

“Maybe I should go-“

“You look absolutely mesmerising. I think I’ve never seen a girl as beautiful as you, (y/n). Why would you hide yourself behind a mask?”

You have to blink a few times in order to process that this is really happening. Yes, Megumi Fushiguro is standing in front of you, looking at nothing but your face while saying that you’re beautiful.

Megumi Fushiguro…Think you’re beautiful?

“B-But…My nose is hooked”, you reply.

“I always thought it makes me look horrible.”

“Horrible?”, he remarks.

“You’re not looking horrible at all. I love the way your nose makes your face looks strong but feminine. There is nothing to be ashamed of.”

The butterflies in your stomach slowly but surely go crazy by now. You must be dreaming all of this. It can’t be Megumi standing in front of you and saying all those nice things, right?

“Really?”

He adores the way your face lights up in an instant. How is it possible that you are this surprised? Did no one tell you already how beautiful you are?

“Of course. I mean every word I say. Also, there’s something I wanted to ask you…”

Him, wanting to ask you something? Megumi scratches the back of his head awkwardly while clearing his throat. Is that a little blush creeping up his cheeks?

“Do you…Do you want to go out with me this evening? We could grab something to eat and I don’t know, watch a movie or something.”

“You really want to go on a date with me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Breathe in, breathe out. Don’t let him see how excited you are.

“I’d love that.”

You turn on your heel and walk out of the room frantically. No, you can’t contain yourself any longer. With a cry of joy, you jump up and down, hand gently rubbing over your nose.

Maybe this isn’t as bad as you thought. Maybe all it takes is a single person who does not only accept you, but adore you just the way you are.

Tags:  @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @chilichopsticks

[colourstreakgryffin]

Hii could I request Alastor x fem(or gn if you don't write fem)reader who is part of vees?? Like imagine meeting where velvet and Carmilla got into fight so can you do that but with reader and maybe like after meeting how it looked?

Hehe! I write female and how ironic is that, whilst I love Hazbin Hotel, I haven’t gotten the chance to watch the show since I am motherless broke and waiting for all of it to go onto YouTube so I am gonna have to guess this shit! Once again… kinda short, sorry!

Alastor- Little Mistake

Alastor has always thoroughly disliked the Vs of the Overlords. Vox is obnoxious and egoistical, Valentino is sensual and annoying, Velvette is bratty and loud. But you… you’re not that bad. You’re the only V that doesn’t get under his skin and he does find you interesting so, throughout most Overlord meetings, he always sideyes you whilst you’re besides Velvette to see how you’ll respond to Carmilla

And respond to Carmilla you did. Making it a big song and dance that you don’t need to respect a fellow Overlord. Overlords barely respect one another so you don’t feel obligated in the slightest to respect her, which caused much friction throughout the other Overlords and deemed the meeting over

Alastor was amused by all of it. You’re much more calm, level-headed, less loud and sophisticated as compared to your fellow Vs and you’ve proven to Alastor that you do have quite the rebellious spirit and are determined to stick to your beliefs

He is impressed. He likes that

You just made a boring, insignificant meeting about ten thousand times better by beginning to argue with Carmilla over her statements and choices, and now, Alastor is hookline sinker for what is about to happen

Alastor may or may not rub you embarrassing yourself in front of your Vs and the Overlords in your face after everybody exits the meeting room and he tracks you down effortlessly, mainly thanks to his incredible shadow magic

Everybody else is so tense and avoiding you, cringing out of their skin at your lashout to their head… except the Vs, who are cheering your stand-up on whilst Alastor is already parting from the group to speak to you about what he wants to speak about

Those piercing crimson red eyes basically glare into your soul as he proclaims with a smirk. He expresses that he doesn’t hate you like he hates your fellow Vs

“I thought you were a good girl~ that wasn’t how good girls behave, my dear”

You don’t even want to hear it from him so you already attempt to regroup with the Vs(who are all proud of you, may I say) but Alastor has other plans and he doesn’t plan for this conversation to be cut so short so rudely, so he steals away you and your time. Is he in love with you? Well, he definitely likes you more than he’ll ever admit

“Oh. You’re so inconsiderate, darling. I was speaking to you and you just turned your back. That is not ladylike at all, don’t you want to give me, at least, a smile~?”

Needless to say, Alastor did indeed both find your butting heads with Carmilla Carmine very amusing, very interesting, very fun to poke fun at and especially… quite attractive— oh god. Did he actually think that? He did. He cannot believe how quickly a simple Overlord like yourself, a member of the Vs, have managed to make him smitten in any fashion

Alastor will make his amusement over your fight with Carmilla obvious, he presses you against the wall and speaks with the radio effects on full blast to make sure you pay attention and whilst he’ll shut out your fellow Vs, he’ll make you look at him and acknowledge him

Alastor teases you nonstop through the maybe 20-30 minutes he took talking to you about the incident in that big room. He openly expresses how much he enjoyed a good girl like you going bad but he hopes you stay obedient when you come to the Hotel. You don’t know what he is blabbering on about, though, Alastor knows you’re too good for the Vs and you’ll come to get redeemed any day now

And when that day comes, he will happy rub it more into your face. Maybe, give that face a bit of a kiss before sending you off

“Ah. Ah~ it’s not creepy, it’s acknowledgment. Creepy would be me following you around all the time. I was merely entranced by your behaviours and may I say, you’re better than those mindless idiotic Overlords you associate yourself with”

[moonstruckme]

who knew camp counsellor james would have such a hold on me-

i feel like one one of the last days of the camp before they have to go back to experiencing the joys of the real world james would sneak the reader out past curfew to indulge in a late night campfire session or smth yk? it would just be really cute-

Thanks for requesting lovely!

camp counselor!James x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

It took you a while to clear the fog of sleep from your head, and you could really argue that you didn’t fully wake up until after you’d put your shoes on and slipped out of your cabin to let James take you into the woods. Your decision making abilities were definitely not fully functioning. 

Not because you wouldn’t have gone if they were, but because you probably would have put on real shorts. 

You feel strangely underdressed in your pajamas while James leads the way in his everyday clothes. Whatever this is—you haven’t had the wherewithal to ask many questions—it was clearly pre-planned on his end, and you hadn’t been clued in until he’d tapped on the window by your bunk bed and asked you to come outside. 

“Careful of that hole there,” he warns you, voice chipper and oddly loud in the quiet of early morning, though you think he’s speaking at a normal volume. 

You step over the hole he’d gestured to, every step helping you to shed the lethargy you’ve carried out of your cabin with you. The world around you is lightening, your sandaled feet brushing against wet blades of grass and mist pleasantly chilling your skin. There’s an excitement coming off James that’s more contagious the more you wake up. 

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“The top of the hill.” 

“Why?” 

“God, can’t I have any secrets?” He tosses you a smile over his shoulder. “It’s a surprise.” 

You roll your eyes even though he can’t see. “Is the surprise that you’re going to murder me?” 

“Well, now you’ve spoiled it.” 

You don’t actually think James would murder you. He may be serial-killer charming, but he’s the sort of kind that persists even when no one is looking and you truly don’t think he’s got a malicious bone in his body. There’s certainly nothing malicious about the way he looks at you now, turning to watch you finish the climb as he steps into the clearing beyond the trees. 

This grassy bluff (referred to lovingly by camp staff as “the hill”) overlooks the lake and the uninhabited, wooded land opposite your camp. On the horizon, you can see thin wisps of fog coating the landscape, tinged faintly yellow by the emerging light though the sun hasn’t yet broken the surface. 

This isn’t somewhere the kids ever really come, but still management has built a wooden fence along the edge of the hill to make sure no one misses the drop-off or tries to jump into the lake below. James walks up to it like this is something he does every day, putting his legs between the two boards so he’s sitting on one with his arms folded across the other. 

You follow suit, though you’re still not sure why you’re here. James set a hand on your back to keep you from tipping backwards while you get situated, and even through the material of your pajama top, it burns like a brand. 

“So, this is the plan,” you say, hating the nervous pitch of your voice. Even though you and James see each other every day, it’s rare that you’re so thoroughly alone with him. “You’re going to dump me in the lake, and then blame it on my own recklessness for climbing over the fence.” 

“Yes, you’ve figured me out,” James replies, but his heart doesn’t seem in the joke anymore. “No, I was just thinking, we never get any time away from the kids.” 

“Except the bonfire.” It’s out of your mouth before you can stop it, the closest either of you have come to acknowledging what happened in the woods that night. You blame exhaustion for the slip. James’ eyes widen slightly, his lips parting like he might say something, but you go on in a hurry, “But yeah, generally we don’t.” 

James quells his surprise, lips turning up again. “Right. I’ve been wanting to come up here to watch the sunrise—it’s the only place you can really see it around here—and I figured we may as well. Friday’s our last day, you know?” 

The levity goes out of you in a soft breath. You turn your gaze towards the horizon. “Yeah,” you acknowledge. 

The end of camp heavies your heart for loads of reasons, but lately the idea of not seeing James has been your least favorite. It’s both of your first summer here, and you’re already planning to come back next year but you don’t know if he’ll do the same. 

You find yourself asking, “Are you ready to go home?” 

The boards creak as James shifts his weight. “There are people I miss, so I’ll be happy to get back to them, but…no, not really. I feel like things have ended too fast. Like, I thought there’d be more time, but now all of a sudden we’re meant to start packing. Are you?” 

You look at James. His hair really has gotten long. There are curls that you think if pulled would stretch nearly to the tip of his nose. You remember when he’d shown up for training, three days before the kids got here, cleaner and several shades lighter and by far the most handsome man you’d ever seen. You’d hardly been able to look at him that first day, so nervous about tripping over your tongue and embarrassing yourself before being stuck with this gorgeous boy for the entire summer, but James’ geniality proved relentless. By dinnertime he’d had you trading your fruit for his fries and the camaraderie between you after that had been easy and fun, if not always strictly friendly. 

“Not really,” you agree, offering him a halfhearted smile. 

James’ knee bumps yours, and all the heat in your body seems to focus on the spot. He smiles back at you. “I’m gonna miss you,” he says, tone light but eyes heavy. 

Your head feels staticky. “I’m gonna miss you, too,” you say. Any other time your voice would be too quiet to hear, but the morning is still, and James feels closer to you than he was a few moments before. “You’re right, I wish there’d been more time for…things.” 

“We could keep in touch.” His voice has gone soft too. You can almost feel his warm breath on your face. “I don’t live that far from you, we could meet up on weekends, or…” 

“Right,” you murmur, but you only get about halfway through before his lips are on yours. 

James tastes like toothpaste and fresh air, and he kisses just like you thought he would, giving and taking in equal measure. His mouth is warm and easy on yours, testing the waters, feeling out what you want. You grip his shoulder to pull him closer, and despite the awkward angle he obliges you. Your head fills with buzzing bees. 

You lose your balance and nearly fall off the fence, but James catches you, laughing into your mouth. He eases you both down onto the ground, appeasing you with kisses to your cheek, your jaw, the side of your nose until he finds his way back to your lips. The dewy wetness of the grass seeps into your clothes. 

You feel more than see the sun rising over the lake. Golden light blooms on the insides of your eyelids, followed by a faint warmth on that side of your face. You find you’re actually alright with missing this one.

[yandere4lyfe]

can I get a part two of the water god also do you watch or do the amazing digital circus or murder drones

((Here's part 2 of Yandere! Greek God x Mortal! Darking! And to answer your question, I have seen the amazing digital circus! I do not about murder drones, though. Is it interesting?))

The fates.

It was decided long ago that Ketos was to take a mortal woman as his wife. He was furious at first. 

He raged at sea for several days and nights, protesting the fates' decision. It was futile, though. Once something was decided, it was woven into the fabric of one's destiny, permanently bonded together. There was nothing one could do except to accept it.

Ketos couldn't do anything besides his fate. He did contemplate killing every mortal woman by flooding the lands, but it would have been foolish to do so. He didn't want to face the ire of Zeus, who would no doubt come down to smite him if any of his mortal or potential mortal lovers were harmed or killed.

It wasn't until the fates came down and told him the name of his future mortal wife. Things changed when out of his arrogant curiosity, he decided to leave his realm to seek her out. He wanted to see for himself if she was worthy enough to be his wife.

And once he saw her, he did not expect to fall as hard as he did.

She was beautiful, not as beautiful as Aphrodite, but beautiful enough to be his wife. Things he had not imagined before, back when he abhorred the thought of a mortal being his betrothed, hit him and carried him away like the waves crashing against the earth. 

He obsessed over her. Watching her from the sea everytime she took a walk along the sandy shore, taking on human forms to stalk her from afar, and even engaging in conversation with her in disguise just to hear what her voice sounds like among other things.

He had completely fallen for her. He decided the next time he saw her, he would come to her as himself and try to court her.

And well, their first meeting did not go as he had planned.

He had thought she would marvel at his magnificence. He was a God, for Zeus's sake! But she looked at him in fear. Distress plagued her beautiful features and he had no clue why. Surely, there was no reason why she would refuse a God like him, was there?

And so began an unique song and dance where he would try to court her, give her gifts, talk to her, all for it to be for naught! She refuses again and again.

And Ketos was starting to become angry...

How dare she refuse his love? She was his! The fates had already confirmed it! Her destiny lies and ends with him! 

He grew increasingly impatient until it came bubbling up one day and he snapped.

He was already in a terrible mood after facing so many of her rejections. He saw her dreadful look and grew tired of her pleas as she refused yet again. But this time, he was going to have her one way or another.

He lashed out, making the calm waves rage and the clouds above heavy and gray.

He threatened her with the lives of her family, along with all the other villagers she lived and grew up with. He didn't care about any of them! If it took killing everyone around her for her to be his, he would gladly do it. Even if she died in the process, all he would have to do is go to Hades and pluck her soul out of the Underworld so that she can finally be with him. And if he couldn't, he was a God. He had all the time in the world to wait for you to reincarnate and take you as his wife then.

Luckily, he didn't need to go that far. Though reluctant, she finally agreed to come to him! He was ecstatic. She took his hand and he praised her for choosing him. It didn't matter if she wasn't happy at first. He'll make her see the positive sides to being his betrothed. All his thoughts reverted back to all the things he wanted to do with her...

He would love and cherish her as they will soon be husband and wife. 

He was so happy to have her, his lovely wife.

((I think I may do a part 3 that's more of a look into their married life. Hope you enjoyed this one though!))

[holllandtrash]

gone | daniel ricciardo

pairing: daniel ricciardo x driver!reader (part 3 to fragile line)

I just know You're not gone You can't be gone

The 2023 season is painful, its challenging and Daniel is still very much in your life in all the ways he shouldn't be.

word count: 9.9k (i dont even know how) warnings/tags: angst, heartbreak, all the painful stuff

“I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Do what?” 

You exhaled a breath that made your entire body shake, “You know what, Daniel.” 

Of course he did. For the last few months, he was experiencing the exact same things you were. The uncertainty, the tension, the sleepless nights, god you were so tired. 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be you and him. You were supposed to be a team. 

So much went wrong, too much. Daniel stood in front of you now as you asked yourself if you were too far gone. 

And you both knew the answer to that one. 

That first race back in Hungary…you were a mess. You probably would have been a little bit more put together had Oliver not pointed out the lineup for the driver’s press conference. 

“You’re kidding,” your jaw dropped, staring at the list. “Who’s smart idea was it to put myself and Daniel together?”

“This is Formula 1,” Oliver sounded apologetic, he did feel bad about the situation. “The FIA doesn’t care if he’s your ex.”

The FIA didn’t care but the entire world watching did. Speculations on what would happen, where you would sit, what would be asked flooded social media. 

When you showed up on Thursday, Lando patted your back and told you to breathe.

“Easier said than done, Lando. I don’t see you being forced to sit with your ex.”

He chuckled at that because you had a point. “Look, I love Danny, but don’t let him get to you, alright?”

Originally, Lando did try to switch the sessions. He talked to Zak, PR, everyone, just because he knew how much you were dreading it. But alas, it was you who was now standing outside the media room, leaning against the wall as you waited to go in and get these next twenty minutes over and done with.

Your plan was to just say as little as possible to everyone. You were banking on the fact that the attention would be solely on Daniel and his return, and that was made clear when he walked into the hallway, getting warm greetings from other drivers and those standing nearby.

He had absolutely no reason to stand next to you, not when there were about ten other people who would have been dying for a few seconds of his time. 

Daniel cleared his throat, hands behind his back as he leaned against the wall as well. 

You counted six seconds before he opened his mouth, speaking to you for the first time since the awards dinner months ago. 

“Not even a hello?” He asked, but he wasn’t the least bit surprised that you were completely avoiding looking in his direction. You ignored him and Daniel laughed to himself at your lack of response.

The door opened again and you took a breath of relief when you realised you were about to be called into the press conference. Just get it over and done with.

Daniel didn’t have the same priorities and spoke up again, “I just want to know-”

You promptly cut him off, you had to. “Look I think it would be best if we just-” god this hurt, you couldn’t even look him in the eye. “Let’s just not talk, okay?”

You pushed yourself away from the wall when one of the media assistants handed each of you a mic and gave you the thumbs up that it was time for the five of you to head out onto the couch. Daniel quickly followed behind you, voice low enough that you could hear but it was unlikely anyone else could.

“So that’s it? You have nothing to say to me?” He asked. “For the person who got you into Formula 1?”

You as well spoke in a harsh whisper, “You may have fast tracked my career but I could have made it to Formula 1 without your help.”

You liked to believe that was true. Was it? You’d never know now.

“But you did take my help,” he pointed out, a groan slipping past his lips as he sat down on the couch. You made sure to distance yourself from him, leaving room for Carlos to sit between you. Even still, Daniel wasn’t done. “You took my help, my resources and then my seat.”

“And what did you do?” You hissed, arms crossed over your chest as different media personnel started to slowly trickle into the room, the lucky ones who claimed the first row were probably close enough to hear you and Daniel.

“Pardon?” He turned his head towards you. Carlos instinctively leaned further back, not wanting to be in the middle of this conversation, but watching and listening intently, as were the other drivers.

“What did you do, hmm?” You repeated, eyes scanning the growing crowd before you snapped your head in his direction. 

For a moment, this feud didn’t matter. Your heart skipped a beat, like it had the hundreds, thousands, of other times when his eyes met yours. The same brown eyes that for months you allowed yourself to get lost in. One look from him and everything around you faded to black. Nothing else seemed important when Daniel was looking at you, giving you his undivided attention.

But this moment wasn’t like all of those other ones.

You snapped out of it, returning to your original thought, much to Carlos’ dismay as he thought you guys were done and had started to relax in between you. 

“We both replaced a driver before their contract was up, Daniel.” You stated, wanting to point out the hypocrisy in his actions. “You are no better than me. We did the exact same thing.”

“It wasn’t the same and you know it,” Daniel retorted, not skipping a beat. He had those words lined up for weeks now, waiting for the chance to say them because there was no way in hell you weren’t going to point out the similarities in your actions.

But Daniel was right. It wasn’t the same. The biggest difference being, you were in love with Daniel when you signed that contract with McLaren, and he was in love with you. 

It wasn’t just a driver screwing over another driver. You drove a wedge between the two of you.

You had the thought to stand up and walk out. The press conference hadn’t officially started yet, the last few reporters were just finding their seats. You could say you’re ill, something came up, really any excuse to get out of here and away from Daniel’s harsh stare.

Don’t let him get to you. Lando’s reminder floated to the front of your mind and you forced yourself to just sit back and look at the small crowd instead. It was clear to everyone who even glanced your way that you did not want to be sitting there, but thankfully Tom Clarkson got the session up and running.

Of course Daniel was the star. Tom had questions about his return, about his short break, about being back with familiar faces. Daniel answered them all with such ease, the familiar heartwarming grin on his face that you couldn’t bear to look at. 

You zoned out, really, arms crossed in front of your chest as you tried to ignore the double standards coming from your right. You doubted Daniel was going to get as much hate online as you had gotten. No one was asking him how he felt about taking another’s seat, everyone was just happy he was back.

“And Y/N, onto you-”

You snapped your head up, plastering on your best smile.

“Last year you finished quite high in Hungary in Formula 2 and after your best finish out in Silverstone, you must feel quite confident going into this weekend?”

You lifted the mic up to your lips, “Yes and no, you know the car’s upgrades are proving to be paying off and we’re hoping to use them to our advantage this weekend but one can never be too confident. As a team we’ll be fighting to be at the front again but in the back of our minds we know that everyone else is doing the same.”

Tom nodded, content with that answer, “And is it nice to have another familiar face on the grid? Daniel acted as a sort of mentor for you during your time in F2, did he not?”

You tensed up and next to you, Carlos felt it. He nudged his arm against yours, a subtle move of encouragement. Carlos, like most of the drivers, knew how uncomfortable the situation was for all involved.

But you couldn’t process the kind gesture. Not when you could practically feel Daniel staring at you, burning holes into the side of your head as he waited for your response.

“I think, yeah a lot of people are probably happy to welcome him back,” you spoke quietly, and not at all convincing. But hey, at least you removed yourself from the answer and gave a general response. One that no one could flip on you.

Tom tried, though, “But personally, what’s going through your mind right now?”

You had so much media training. You knew the proper answer would be something along the lines of how Daniel is a great asset to the sport and how the grid is better with him. Nothing personal, but just facts the general public could agree with. You knew what to say.

But you scoffed instead, “Why aren’t you asking the other drivers how they feel?”

Max spoke up from the opposite end of the couch, “It’s great having Daniel back.”

You shot him a quick, yet thankful, smile. While he was good friends with Daniel, anyone on that couch could see how that question was only given to you because of your history with the Australian. And this press conference was supposed to be about motorsport, about the racing coming up. 

You stayed quiet for the rest of it and as soon as it ended you bolted out of that room. 

Unfortunately, so did Daniel.

He caught up to you with ease, “Hold up, Y/N, I want to talk.”

Daniel reached for your arm and you pulled it out of his grasp as you turned around to face him, “I don’t think there’s anything left to say. No, you said plenty last year. What was it, exactly? Something about how taking your seat before your contract was even up was the worst thing I could have possibly done? I’m not going to sit there and listen to everyone praise you for coming back when you dragged my name through the dirt for the exact same fucking move. I’m not going to listen to a single thing you have to say, knowing you’re the biggest hypocrite this sport has ever seen but won’t admit it.”

Daniel huffed out a short breath. For a second, you thought he was going to apologise, but that thought quickly left when his forehead creased, his jaw tightening, “Sometimes you gotta burn a few bridges in this industry, but you figured that out all on your own, didn’t you?”

You shook your head, taking a few more steps backwards as heavy sarcasm dripped from your tongue, “Nice to have you back, Daniel.”

It really was anything but nice. Not when that entire race was focused on how you and Daniel interacted in the paddock- or the lack of interaction was probably a better way to phrase it. Everyone knew you two to be connected at the hip. Now you were turning around and walking in the opposite direction to avoid him.

The next race was worse. Spa. It was a challenging track already, you knew this going into the practice sessions. You were prepared for a difficult weekend.

What you weren’t prepared for was leaving the garage towards the end of Q1 to set a lap time, only to be blocked by Daniel before you could cross the finish line. He slowed down before the straight, like many drivers did before giving it all they had on their way to start a flying lap. 

But Daniel didn’t speed up like you expected him to. He kept you behind him for as long as he could before shifting gears and taking off. When it was your turn to cross the line and get your time started, you heard the call come in from the garage. 

“Times up,” your engineer, Ronnie, said through the radio. “You didn’t cross the line in time.”

Once that timer hit 0, no one was allowed to start a new lap. Every other driver made it across in time, but Daniel’s little move kept you from throwing your hat into the ring for Q2. 

You embarrassingly made your way back around the track, pulling into the pit lane to park in the garage. It wasn’t long before other drivers followed, but they had all set lap times. Climbing out of the car, you noticed that Daniel didn’t make it through either.

Serves him right, you thought. 

God, you wanted to give him a piece of your mind. 

Right on time, you watched on the screen as Daniel dove into the pit lane. You ignored the calls from Ronnie and Oliver, not a single thought in your mind except to ask Daniel what his problem was.

Oliver knew what you were doing as soon as you stepped out of the garage. You ripped your helmet off and shoved it into his hands as he hurried to walk at your pace. Your eyes were set on the AlphaTauri garage just up ahead and you could hear Oliver warning you, telling you to just turn around and go back to McLaren but the second you saw Daniel get out of his car, you snapped.

“What the hell was that?” You asked, eyeing him up from where he stood at the garage opening. 

Daniel wasn’t the least bit surprised to see you, but he did stand up straighter, already anticipating whatever you had to say to him. 

“You’re a prick, you know that?” Your insult did little to offend him. 

“It's not my fault you left the garage late,” Daniel shrugged, taking no responsibility for your inability to set a lap time. 

“It’s completely your fault for slowing down more than necessary.”

“I didn’t want to run into traffic.”

“You fucked up my qualifying, Daniel.”

You felt Oliver’s hand on your shoulder. He wasn’t trying to pull you away, but the touch was to get your attention. Aside from AlphaTauri crew members watching this interaction, there was also a camera pointed directly at the two of you, streaming live to F1TV and whatever else broadcast that chose to air it. 

Daniel wasn’t as concerned about his media appearance, stepping forward the slightest bit so you were only inches apart. 

“If I were you, sweets, I wouldn’t be blaming your problems on the person who got you into this sport.”

You were so close to losing it on him for that comment. You probably would have, had he not thrown in his old nickname for you. Only it wasn’t sweet anymore. There was a distaste on his tongue as he said it, you heard it. He only said it to throw you off, to remind you that he no longer cared for you the way he used to. He was using it against you now.

Daniel saw the way you froze, completely losing your train of thought and he used it to his advantage to walk away from this conversation. He was happy to get the last word in and all you could do was drop your head and walk as close to Oliver as humanly possible as you made your way back to McLaren.

The altercation was heavily split down the middle by all who watched. Some people agreed that Daniel slowed down purposely to keep you from crossing the line in time to start a lap. They also agreed that he should have owned up and apologised for it, saying that it wasn’t in his character to leave another driver so defeated after something that was clearly his fault.

Other people agreed that it was your fault for leaving the garage too late, taking Daniel’s side. They said that it wasn’t very mature of you to confront him like that, or to swear at him. It only added to the conversation of how women weren’t ready to have a place in Formula 1. 

Your PR manager advised you to put out a statement about it, an apology. You ignored her advice. In your opinion, the only person who had to apologise was Daniel.

Of course he didn’t, though. 

Which meant you didn’t apologise when after the summer, In Zandvoort, you braked a little early when Daniel was behind you. You played it off saying you anticipated the turn too early. Daniel happily complained about you in the media pen when he was forced into the grass and then ultimately the barrier, forcing his race to end early. Social media blew up, like usual, feeding into this childish feud. 

That’s how it went for most all, of the races. It wasn’t as though you were purposely trying to ruin his weekends, nor was it his goal to ruin yours, but if you happened to be alongside each other during the race or near each other during qualifying, fans started to put their money on who would target who first.

You didn’t like that that was what your weekends turned into. It was one thing to want to know where the rest of the drivers were in comparison to you, but to be so focused on Daniel was taking it to the extreme.

But you were determined to prove you were a good driver without him, that you were a better driver than him. That taking that McLaren seat wasn’t a mistake and if anything, he should be regretting being so harsh on you. You wanted him to eat his words, and it helped your case that he was definitely struggling in the AlphaTauri. 

You finished ahead of him a handful of times. You could try and convince yourself it was skill, but a determining factor really was how horrible Daniel’s car was. That was proven when you were struggling with an upgrade package in Singapore. Some analysts compared the pace of the McLaren to the AlphaTauri, and said that the upgrades were really more like downgrades. 

When Daniel finished ahead of you, claiming sixth that race while you crossed the line in 17th, you were furious. You told the team that as a whole, you were much better than that. That the McLarens should not be finishing in the bottom five considering how successful you had been mid season. 

Those closest to you knew what you meant. You shouldn’t be finishing behind Daniel. 

Things weren’t perfect after that, despite going back to the old set up. You were back to fighting for points, but so was Daniel. And you hated it. You thought you could rely on the McLaren being better than the AlphaTauri, but you forgot to take into account that Daniel truly was one of the best drivers on the grid.

It got to the point where you and Ronnie had a code. If you finished ahead of him, on the radio, Ronnie would say way to go champ. If Daniel finished ahead of you and you weren’t already aware of it during the race, Ronnie would say there’s still work to be done. 

Again, those closest to you knew how much it meant to beat Daniel. 

You wanted to prove to him, and everyone but you wouldn’t lie to yourself it was mostly him, that you deserved that fucking seat. That you made the right choice by signing the contract, despite it meaning he was without a car for a few months. You shouldn’t have felt guilty for putting yourself first, your career first, if you were doing something great, which you were. 

Plus, the better you did, the less of a reason Daniel had to judge you. How could he still be upset with you for taking that McLaren seat when you were doing what he couldn’t? Scoring in the high points, being consistent, for the most part. How could he say that taking his seat was the worst thing you could have done when ultimately, it would boil down to jealousy? Daniel struggled in that McLaren, and he assumed you would too. That wasn’t the case. 

And deep down, even if you didn’t want to admit it, there was still a part of you that aimed to make Daniel proud. Even if you couldn’t get back to when you were each other's biggest fans, you hoped that he had moments when he looked at the driver standings and nodded to himself, smiling maybe, because even if you weren't on the best of terms, you were doing what he always knew you could do. 

You had no idea, but moments like that did come for Daniel. They were far and few between, rarely caught on camera or at least, never brought to your attention. You had no way of knowing Daniel was leaving the AlphaTauri garage, conflicted about how he felt about your accomplishments. You were doing better than him, there was no denying that. He just chose not to admit it.

The only time that season where you knew he was proud was at COTA. One of his favourite races on the calendar.

You qualified well, P3. That hadn’t happened since Silverstone. The race itself didn’t produce anything too horrible, aside from a few drivers at the back of the grid collided early on and unfortunately Daniel was one of them, being forced to retire. 

You, though, you were flying. Your biggest competition was Lando who had started P2, again, similar to Silverstone. For most of the race, your job was to defend Carlos who was aiming for that podium, wanting to take P3 from you. 

Typically, you would have boxed first. That’s usually what happened to give Lando the advantage. And with Carlos most likely being on an undercut strategy, you expected the call to come in to box ahead of him. 

But that didn’t happen. Instead, you watched Lando pull into the pit lane, giving you the automatic second place position. In your mirrors, you watched as Carlos pulled into the pits as well.

“What’s going on?” You asked Ronnie through the headset. 

“Plan F.”

Plan F was one you joked about, but never actually executed. Plan Fight you and Lando called it, but both of you knew that you’d never actually be given the go ahead to fight it out for the podium positions, not wanting to risk damage to the cars.

“Plan F?” You repeated, the shock in your voice evident. That made for good content on F1 Twitter.

“Box this lap,” Ronnie instructed before going on to explain. “Carlos is struggling with his pace, we believe his main goal will be to defend.”

From what you knew, Lewis was behind him, and if Carlos was struggling with his pace he wouldn’t be fighting for a podium, he’d be fighting to keep that fourth place position. 

Which meant you and Lando were also free to fight. 

Pitting for new tyres dropped you back a bit, but it didn’t take long at all until you were right on Lando’s tail again. You stayed there for the majority of the last half of the race, the gap wavering anywhere between half of a second to three seconds behind. 

You tried to pass, truly. But Lando’s defensive game had always been strong. You looked for the opportunities in the corners, along the straights, but it wasn’t until the third to last lap did the chance come. 

You had closed the gap as much as you could, not needing to worry about whoever was behind you, you figured it was still Carlos. As you approached the back straight, you knew Lando was expecting you to dart to the left in an attempt for an overtake on the inside, you had tried it in five out of the last ten laps and each time you were still left eating his dust. 

You veered slightly to the left, giving Lando the impression that was your goal and the second he made the move to defend, you steered the car to the right and gave it everything you had. It was a tricky move, vying for the outside overtake going into the tight corner, but when it seemed to work out, you had the inside line for the following turn and Lando was soon in your mirrors. 

He tried to take that position back, but you took advantage of the clear air and set off, determined for your first podium, determined to finish ahead of Lando.

Lando ended up claiming third, crossing the finish line only a second after you did. After a victory lap, where he jokingly flipped you off, the two of you pulled into parc ferme. Immediately, you collapsed into Lando, arms tight around him because not only was this a success for you, but for the team. Both McLaren drivers on the podium for the first time this season.

Through the cheers, you could hear Lando yell something about making history. Whether that was in regards to both of you or the fact that you were the first female to ever podium in F1, you weren’t sure. It didn’t matter anyway. You just knew you were proud.

You jumped into the arms of your team next, those standing behind the barrier. Adrenaline was pumping through you, you just wanted to celebrate with everyone. When you eventually took your helmet off, a few tears were streaming down your face and you didn’t even think about the risk of turning into the new George Russell crying meme. 

You were shaking as you stood in the cool down room, too amped up to sit. Max had been through this dozens of times before. Nor was this Lando’s first podium either, but you were on top of the world.

The ceremony went by in a blur. As did the post race conference. You really did try to take in each second of it, thankful that Lando was there at your side the entire time. This entire process was new to you and if Lando wasn’t in your ear telling you to breathe, where to go, to enjoy the moment, you would have been a mess.

There was so much that happened following that race, there was no way you could have known what was going on with any of the other drivers. It wasn’t until you got back to your hotel room at the end of the day with instructions to ‘get changed because we’re going out’ from Lando, did you see what you had missed.

It felt like hours since you even looked at your phone. You had called your parents, but you didn’t have much time for anything else. Now that you were sat on the edge of your bed, you were able to scroll through your texts and notifications. 

You were able to see the clip you were tagged in way too many times, on way too many platforms.

It was short, but any longer and you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself. You clicked play and watched the video of you crossing the finish line. Lando was following behind, but whatever broadcast this was from didn’t care about his finish. The shot switched to Daniel, from where he stood in the AlphaTauri garage.

Whoever was filming caught his live reaction of you coming second at COTA.

The nod, the faint curl of the corner of his lips because as much as he tried, he couldn’t fight the smile on his face as he watched you take your first podium position in F1, something that he once dreamed for you.

But you not being part of his dreams anymore didn’t mean that he stopped wishing you accomplished yours. 

This brought you back to the first video you watched of him a few years back, before you even met him, where he spoke so highly of you. He wanted you to succeed so badly back then and he wanted to be at your side while you did so.

Now here you were, succeeding, but where was Daniel?

Maybe that’s where some of his hostility lied. You didn’t need him, clearly. Or at least, that’s what he thought. 

The reality was, you wanted to prove you could do this without him, but you wished you didn’t have to. 

You were conflicted, you both were. And it didn’t help that you weren’t speaking civilly to each other because my god a simple conversation would probably do wonders for both of you. 

That was Lando’s thought, as he sat down next to you in the booth and handed you the glass of coke, no rum much to his dismay. You didn’t drink during the season, even if you had something to celebrate, Lando knew this. Champagne on the podium was the only exception.

Tonight, though, as you sat in your thoughts and replayed the image in your mind of Daniel smiling up at the screen, you figured that another exception wouldn’t hurt. 

You turned down the coke and grabbed his drink instead, downing it in one gulp and instantly regretting it because you were fairly certain it was tequila based and tequila just wasn’t something you ever enjoyed. Lando laughed and handed you the coke to chase it down with. 

“You’re letting loose tonight?” He asked, sitting down beside you. His arm stretched across the bench behind your shoulders. He didn’t even try stifling his chuckle as you struggled with the bitter taste left in your mouth.

“I need to,” you answered. 

“You deserve to,” he corrected. Lando reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet and then a sleek black card. He didn’t say anything to you, nor to the server who came by and knew that by him dropping the card on the table meant he was asking for bottle service. 

It wasn’t long before you had a row of shots to split between the two of you and a few others who had crowded the booth, some you knew, some you didn’t. Not that it mattered, you just wanted to drink, you didn’t care who you were with.

Lando being there was a godsend, though. He knew that you were a lightweight and told you that the glass in your hand was a vodka soda when in reality he asked the server for you to just be given water after a few hours of the most carefree drinking he had ever witnessed from you. 

The music was blaring, you had gotten up to dance at one point, but you kept finding your way back to the booth. Clubbing wasn’t your thing and Lando, whether he liked it or not, was an anchor for you tonight. He kept you safe, kept you from drowning in the sea of people and alcohol. 

He could do a lot that night, but he couldn’t prevent the inevitable storm that was Daniel Ricciardo making an appearance at that Austin night club.

Lando saw him first and turned to you with the intention of suggesting that you both called it a night. But no words came out when he saw the painful look of desire and despair mashed together on your features as you spotted the Australian driver. 

You didn’t drink often, but if you did, you would know that feelings are often elevated under the influence. You’d also know that alcohol lowers inhibition, giving you a false sense of security to say what was really on your mind.

“I don’t get it,” you spoke quietly and Lando leaned in closer to hear you over the music blasting from all corners. 

“Get what?”

You pulled your gaze off of Daniel before you could accidentally make eye contact and looked at your teammate instead. He seemed concerned for you, he always did when Daniel was involved. 

Lando always did what he could to get your mind off Daniel and the past. He was a good friend, a good person to have in your corner but he wasn’t who you wanted there at the end of the day. You had grown to love Lando, not in the way you loved Daniel, though, so you couldn’t deny that you wished it was the Aussie sitting next to you in the booth, celebrating your podium. You hated that you wanted that.

“Do you miss him, still?” Lando prompted, knowing you had lost your train of thought. 

When you shook your head, Lando gave you a look that clearly showed he didn’t believe you, but it was true. You didn’t miss Daniel. What you felt was much worse.

“I don’t miss him,” you answered, glancing towards him again. He stood at the bar talking to a girl that you envied because at least she was talking to him. “But I think he’s my missing piece.”

You hadn’t felt whole since the day you and Daniel split. You walked out of his flat but you left a piece of you there, a piece you desperately tried to get back through race weekends and training and distractions but it was no use. It would always belong to Daniel and you feared he had no intention of giving it back. You feared, that no matter how much time had passed, you’d always feel a little incomplete. 

You stood up to leave soon after, thanking Lando for the drinks and assuring him you’d send a text when you got back to the hotel. 

Lando tried to follow you to the door, wanting to tell you that he would go with you, the concerned friend making another appearance, but before he could get a word out he watched as someone cut him off, also making a direct line towards the door of the club.

It took Lando a second to realise it was Daniel who was walking after you now. Lando just stood there and raised his hand to the back of his neck, asking himself if he had just made a mistake by not stopping Daniel.

When Lando asked the next morning if Daniel spoke to you, you gave him a questionable look, telling him that you didn’t talk to him at all. Lando explained that he had seen Daniel leave the club right after you, but you just shrugged, chalking it up to getting into the uber before Daniel had the chance to catch up to you.

But Lando saw the photos. He, like everyone else, saw images of Daniel climbing into the car right after you. He wasn't the least bit surprised you lied about it. 

You didn't want to tell Lando that Daniel had grabbed the side of the car door before you could shut it, pulling it back just enough for him to slide into the backseat next to you. You shuffled over to make room, but you couldn’t get a single word out. All liquid courage vanished and instead your palms were clammy, the car felt stuffy and you couldn’t even look at him.

Daniel as well, didn’t say anything. His legs were spread out slightly, knee hitting yours as his hands were folded together in his lap. 

Why did he follow you?

This was the first time in ages you had been alone together, minus the driver. 

The hotel was a short drive away, but it felt like ages, the two of you sitting in uncomfortable silence. You weren’t bickering like you often did if you were in the same room, but at this point you’d rather that than whatever this eeriness was. 

You thought maybe, maybe, this was your saving grace. Maybe Daniel had followed you out of the club to tell you he was proud of you, to tell you he still loved you, to tell you he was tired of this feud and wanted you back.

But the longer you sat in silence, the more it sank in that that wasn’t the case. 

You used to love each other. Now you couldn’t even hold eye contact.

Daniel waited until the driver pulled onto the street of your hotel before saying anything. 

“Checo’s gone after this year.”

You turned to him, unsure if you had heard correctly. “What?”

“He’s gone,” Daniel repeated, more confident this time, still not looking at you though. “Marko told me on Friday.”

You had way too much alcohol flowing through your system to be able to process this. Checo’s contract wasn’t supposed to be up until the end of 2024. 

But Nyck’s wasn’t supposed to be up in June and Daniel’s wasn’t supposed to be done at McLaren in 2022. These things happened in Formula 1, as unfortunate as it was for the driver getting the boot, these things often happened. 

And Daniel…why did he know this information? Why didn’t the rest of the grid know it? Did Checo even know?

You inhaled sharply, “Does this mean-”

“The news is dropping tomorrow morning, but I wanted you to know first,” Daniel cut you off, his forehead creased with tension. His jaw was clenched, like he wasn’t happy to be saying this but felt the need to anyway. “I’m driving for Red Bull next year.”

The first thought that came to mind was he’s done it again. Taking another driver's seat before their contact ended. 2-1 now. He was officially a shittier person than you were and you so badly wanted to rub it in his face. 

But you could see now that that was why he told you personally. He didn’t want to wait until you heard the news like everyone else, he didn’t want to give you an opportunity to attack him for this, to make him feel like the bad guy even though that’s how he made you feel this entire season so far.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t all that difficult to bite your tongue. 

“Congratulations,” you settled on, quietly but you meant it and you caught him off guard because he truly was expecting some sort of lashing out. 

The driver pulled up to the hotel right at that second and you thanked him before stepping out, not giving Daniel a second look, again catching him off guard because you always looked back at him when you were together. 

Daniel waited a second. And then a few more before he bolted out of the car and into the hotel. You had made it to the elevator by that point and Daniel had to slide his hand between the doors to keep them from shutting. You watched as he pushed his way in and just like the car ride, said nothing.

You were on your way up to the twelve floor and Daniel waited until you arrived at the level before opening his mouth, waiting till the last second, wanting to cling onto this civil moment with you because who knew when it would come again?

“You’re not mad?” He asked.

The door opened and you had to brace yourself before standing up straight and walking out of the elevator, needing a moment to remember what side of the hall your room was on.

“I’m livid,” you answered, honestly. You were happy for him, but you were also angry about the situation. You didn’t know it was possible to feel both things at once, but in your drunk state, it was extremely possible. 

“Livid?” Daniel walked behind you, trying to gauge the rest of this conversation because you didn’t sound livid. 

“Enraged,” you said.

“Enraged,” he repeated.

“I want to wring your neck, Daniel,” you said, hearing him chuckle behind you because you didn’t sound the least bit threatening as you fumbled to unlock the hotel room door. The lock kept lighting up red and after your third failed attempt, Daniel took the card from your hand and unlocked it with ease, pushing the door open for you. 

You didn’t thank him, instead relying on the wall once you stepped inside to lean against as you pulled your heels off. Daniel followed you inside, standing at a cautious distance until you dropped your shoes because part of him thought that maybe you would throw them at him. You were enraged after all.

You weren’t sure why he was still there. He had told you what he wanted to tell you and he had no reason to still be hanging around. 

“What?” You finally asked, now sounding a little more on the annoyed side as you turned to stare at him. “What do you want? Why are you still here?”

“I want to talk.”

“About what?” You scoffed at him. “About the Red Bull contract? Congratulations, Danny. You deserve it. You deserve every fucking seat on this grid apparently.”

There it was.

“I knew you were mad.”

“I said I was mad!” You exclaimed, appalled that he was saying it like he discovered what you had already made perfectly clear. “I’m pissed, Dan. You have such a cult following that no one is going to bat an eye at you taking Checo’s seat, just like no one complained about you taking Nyck’s. Whereas I do it, I get offered the chance of a lifetime, to make history and I’m considered the villain? I didn’t end your contract, Daniel, I just replaced you and for some reason, no one cares about that narrative! They just care about you.”

You were yelling now. Daniel was probably regretting having followed you but it was too late for him to turn and walk out at this point.

“You know what the shitty part is?” You asked, stepping closer to him. Daniel could smell the vodka on your breath. That's how minimal the distance was between you. The last time you were this close you were wanting to rip his head off outside the AlphaTauri garage. 

“What?” He raised his eyebrows. Daniel couldn’t even begin to guess where you were going with this.

“This news is going to drop and my name is going to be circulating in the media again. They’re going to compare this, you taking his seat, to me taking yours. I will never be known as the first female signed to McLaren. I will forever be linked to you, no matter what you do in this fucking sport.”

You shook your head at him when he stayed silent. Pulling your eyes off of him, the heaviest exhale passed through your lips and you turned around, wanting this night to end. After you waved your hand in the air you muttered something about how he could see himself out.

But he didn’t go anywhere. 

And because he didn’t go anywhere and because you were drunk, you easily thought of more to say.

“You didn’t even like McLaren,” you sighed as you turned back around to face him, leaning against the wall. Your head was spinning. Maybe if you were lucky, this conversation wasn’t actually happening and it was a drunk figment of your imagination.

“No, but I loved you.” 

You definitely didn’t imagine him saying that.

“I loved you,” he repeated, the past-tense admittance felt like a stab to your chest. “And I wanted nothing more than to race alongside you without feeling the need to prove something, to be your partner off the grid. I wanted to love you and race at the same time and you ruined that.”

All you could do was shrug your shoulders. You had said everything you needed to say at this point in defence of your contract, “I’m a driver, Dan. The race, the seat, it comes first, everything else second. You of all people know that.”

“We could have had both.”

Both. Love and a spot in Formula 1. 

Clearly not.

“Could we have?” You asked, unsure if you even had an answer, but you needed him to really think about it. To think about it if that really was a possibility for the two of you. 

Daniel and you held each other's stares for a minute, waiting for the other to say something. You were still waiting, hoping, for him to say he was proud of you, that he still loved you, that it didn’t matter what happened in the past, but it did matter. Daniel was still waiting for a sincere apology, but you had nothing to apologise for. Signing that McLaren contract was the best thing you’d ever done for yourself, despite the strings to Daniel you had now found yourself tangled in, McLaren was where you were supposed to be.

“I’m tired, Dan,” you shook your head and glanced towards your room down the hall. Physically, mentally, you were drained. And you weren’t ready for what was to happen tomorrow when his contract news came to light.

It didn’t even feel like you had gotten a podium a few hours ago. The last thing you wanted to do was celebrate. You just wanted to crawl into bed and forget that Daniel had followed you here.

He didn’t stop you as you walked down the hall. He waited for you to look at him, but again, you were past that. What was a second look going to do at this point? You wiped your makeup off as best as you could and slid under the covers of your bed, quickly falling into a dreamless sleep.

And sure enough, the news dropped of his contract, of his new seat, and it wasn’t long before people started comparing it to what you had done the year prior. 

The first thing you saw when you woke up that morning, aside from the glass of water that Daniel had put next to your bed, was the news alert on your phone stating that Daniel was to replace Checo for 2024. 

The second article you read was about you. Speculating how you would feel about Daniel’s permanent return. The article highlighted the moments of your relationship, starting from the day he signed on to be your mentor to the time in the AlphaTauri garage when you were fighting over the qualifying lap he ruined.

And then there was a photo of you climbing into the car from last night, followed by Daniel getting into the car shortly after.

His name was trending. Your name was trending. Half the people online cared about his return to RBR. The other half wanted to know if you two were getting back together.

No one gave a single shit that you made history yesterday, landing that podium. 

You were the first female to score a podium position in Formula 1 and all anyone cared about was your connection to Daniel. Just like when you won the Monaco Grand Prix during F2, all anyone cared about was Daniel’s influence in your racing. When you were signed to McLaren, all anyone cared about was how you were replacing Daniel.

Daniel. Daniel. Daniel.

People didn’t care about your accomplishments. They only wanted to find a way to connect them all to Daniel.

You scrolled through the article and a new one was suggested for you at the bottom of it. Why Y/N Y/L/N Owes Her Career to The Honey Badger.

Instead of reading it, you threw your phone with as much strength as you had down the hall, out of your sight. You heard it hit the floor and slide across the hardwood. 

You couldn’t remember the last time you read something positive about yourself without a hint of Daniel’s influence. 

This wouldn’t have been as hard of a pill to swallow if he was still in your life the way you wanted him to be. If he really was still at your side, supporting you, cheering you on, you could look past the articles and speculations about how he was the only reason you were in the sport. It wouldn’t matter what people were saying if Daniel was in your ear reminding you of your potential, reminding you that you deserved that F1 seat.

But he wasn’t going to do that, not anymore. What you had was gone and you were left with the bitter memories and an unforgiving path you had to walk alone to prove yourself in this field.

You wanted to prove you didn’t need Daniel, but the entire world was making it their mission to remind you that at one point, you did. Maybe you still did, maybe you didn’t know who you were without him because let’s face it, everything you did on the track still revolved around him.

You cared about where he finished. You went out of your way to outscore him and only him. You didn’t do anything to relieve the tension in the paddock. You were very much playing into the narrative that he was still a key player in your life.

How could the world move on if you hadn’t?

Hearing footsteps make their way towards you, you sat up in bed, already knowing it was Daniel who didn’t leave when he should have.

You weren’t concerned about your appearance, he had seen you in a much worse state. He had better mornings as well, still wearing his clothes from last night, the bags under his eyes gave away the fact that he was about as tired as you were.

He had your phone in his hands, but he didn’t spend much time looking at the article on the screen. Instead, he dropped it to the table next to him and leaned against the doorframe, exhaling a heavy breath.

You didn’t move, content with the distance between you now because you had to be. Despite wanting nothing more than to be with him, you couldn’t have that anymore. Everything had to be at a distance.

Your phone chimed. Once, twice, and then about four more times. You knew it was people telling you about Daniel’s contract, not knowing that you had been given the inside scoop last night. 

At one point, you loved being connected to Daniel. Now, it was a burden. It was haunting. Each time someone mentioned him to you, sent you something about him, asked you a question about him, you were reminded that the connection was gone. 

Your lips parted and you had to take a quick, self-assuring breath before finally saying what had to be said.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Do what?” 

Your entire body trembled as you spoke, “You know what, Daniel.” 

Of course he did. He was as tired as you were. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this and yet here you were, staring at each other knowing that you were both too far gone to ever find your way back. 

You thought, maybe, possibly, you could work things out. For a brief moment, when you knew he was proud of you, you thought you saw a silver lining amongst the grey skies. And maybe you did, maybe it was there, but it was way beyond your grasp. You couldn’t reach out and grab it, you could only dream of it.

There was one solution. One that broke you, knowing you were stuck with it. You didn’t want to admit it. You wished you could push it down and keep living the way you had but you just couldn’t do it anymore. 

You were tired. This was hopeless. You both needed closure, but he wasn’t going to say anything which meant you had to.

“I’m stuck, Daniel. I’m stuck living in the moments between the day we met and the day I left because those are the moments that meant the most to me and I haven't been ready to let them go. I’ve never wanted to move on but you forced me to. You forced me to become the bad guy, to do this without you, to grow without you, to prove that I don’t need you but I do need you, I’ve always needed you. From day one, I needed you. My first time in the F1 car, I needed you. If I crashed out, I needed you. I always needed you, Daniel, and then after a five minute conversation you decided that I didn’t anymore. You made that decision for me, for us.”

You paused, you took a breath, you weren’t done. Despite being so painfully close to breaking down, you weren’t done.

“And now here I am, finally succeeding, finally making history in this sport, but it doesn’t mean anything because no one cares unless they find a way to connect it to you. I will always be in the shadow of the man I love and for this entire season, I’ve let it happen because it was the only way you’d still be in my life.”

Daniel cleared his throat when he heard that four letter word, standing up a little straighter, “You still love me?”

You glanced down at the duvet wrapped around your hips. It was heavy, suffocating, much like this conversation. “Truthfully, Daniel, I can’t imagine the day I stop.”

Daniel didn’t need to say anything for you to know he no longer felt the same. He had stopped loving you the day you signed the contract with McLaren. He may have been proud of your achievements, he may have appeared to have extended a short olive branch, one that gave you false hope, but he didn’t love you. 

Because it always came back to that one question. How could he love you- how could he be in your corner when you had pushed him out of his own? You may not have been the one to initiate his leave, but you gave him that final shove. 

That was a move you had to live with. 

“I love you,” you repeated, your eyes then trailing towards your phone where that stupid article was still displayed on the screen. “I always will, but I can’t be tied to you anymore. I can’t do this anymore.”

Even though Daniel was the one that had broken up with you all those months ago, this hurt more. Hearing you finally cut ties, knowing you didn’t want to be done but had to be, broke him. There was no salvaging this. 

“I think-” your voice cracked as you spoke, but for the sake of this conversation you did your damn best to hold it together. “I think we need to be done.”

We are done, Daniel wanted to say, but he knew there was more to your words.

Watching your bottom lip quiver made him want to pull you into his arms one last time. He wanted to apologise and hold you close before the tears could fall. 

“No more comments to the media,” you stated firmly. Daniel nodded. 

You were stronger than him, maybe you always were. Daniel could barely get a word out and here you were, laying down what had to happen moving forward.

“No more interactions,” you then said, raising your hand to your arm, a soothing gesture or maybe an anxious one, he couldn’t tell. “No more- no more following me out of clubs for people to see. No more giving anyone a reason to connect us. I don’t want you in my life as anything more than another driver on the grid. You’re not my teammate. You’re not my partner. You’re not in my corner. I don’t want to worry about what you think about me anymore. I don’t want to worry about where you finish and I don’t want you to care about where I’m at. I want you to focus on driving just like I want to focus on driving. That’s it. That’s who we are. We’re drivers, Daniel. That’s all we’ve ever been. Strip back every layer of us and racing remains. That’s how it should be. We’ve-” you sucked in a breath, your words getting caught in your throat for a second. “We’ve always known that, I think. That at the end of it all, we’re drivers first. We were foolish to think we could be anything more.”

You couldn’t have both. You couldn’t be in love while on the grid together.

You were only ever drivers. That’s why you signed the McLaren contract. That’s why Daniel didn’t think twice before replacing Nyck and now Checo. You both put your careers first. It wasn’t selfish, it was in your blood, and you couldn’t hold it against each other anymore. 

And you couldn’t hold onto it either.

As much as you liked to think there would come a day where you would still be in love, both of you on the grid, you accepted now that it would never happen. It was a dream, one you had to let go of. You had to mend the hole in your chest that he created. You couldn’t let him be that missing piece.

You had to respect Daniel as a driver, much like he had to with you. But that was it. No more conversations. No more subtle comments made about each other or to each other. You needed distance. No more missed looks in the paddock, because surely someone with a camera would catch it. No more watching the screen if the other was showcased. No more petty feuds. No more interactions. No more caring.

You had to cut ties with Daniel. It was the only way you could focus on yourself and your career.

Surely, enough time would pass where an article would be written about you that didn’t mention his name and his assistance in getting you to where you were now. But that wouldn’t happen if you were still holding onto him. You had to let go for the rest of the world to.

Daniel pushed himself away from the wall without saying a word. You watched, tense, as he slowly made his way towards you and sat down next to you on the bed. Knees touching like they were in the car ride last night. As you turned your head and stared up at him, you could make out the details in his face that you used to cherish, that you had memorised so early on in your relationship. 

But he had changed. There was a sliver of unfamiliarity in his eyes, a reminder that this wasn’t the Daniel who was in love with you anymore.

You had to look away.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” you whispered. You kept your hands folded in your lap, worried that if you unclenched your fingers you would reach out for him. 

Daniel nodded, agreeing with you. He raised his arm up, tucking it over your shoulders and pulling you against his side. You inhaled a sharp breath at the gesture, knowing this would be the last time you’d feel his touch. He rubbed his hand over your arm, neither of you thinking to say anything else, because there really was nothing left to say.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

You were supposed to be in love. 

And maybe, in another world, you would be. If you didn’t make the move to F1, you could still be in love. If you settled with F2, if you moved to a different series, he could still support you and you could still be his biggest fan. 

But you were drivers. Career focused, determined, passionate drivers who wanted nothing more than to win. You both craved the honour and prestige of a Formula 1 seat more than anything, more than each other. You’d be lying if you thought otherwise.

You were drivers, so inevitably, it was always going to end like this.

__________________

is this the finale or is there one more chapter for these loveless drivers?

taglist: @torossosebs@whatthefuckerr@jspitwall@oconso@tsarinablogs@landowecanbewc@somanyfandomsbruh@christianpulisic10@storminacloud@sunnytkm23@formula1mount@azxulaa@icarus-nex@spideyspeaches @moonvr @destourtereaux @baw-sixteen @cinderellawithashoe @love4lando @alesainz @blueanfield @itsmeempar @vellicora

for some reason im struggling to add anyone else to the taglist, i deeply apologise. i would recommend turning on post notifs but i know its sometimes annoying, but i rly am struggling with my mentions

[usedtobecooler]

follow me down | steve harrington x reader

a/n: one tiny conversation with @loveshotzz caused a fire to be lit under my ass yesterday, thus this debauchery was written. it's good to be out of the smut slump! 2.3k words.

tw: EXPLICIT CONTENT 18+ MINORS DNI, gloryhole, dubcon, blowjobs, reader has a vagina, alcohol and drug mentions, anonymous sex acts, dirty talk, pet names, rough oral sex, masturbation, no protection.

Maybe this was a terrible, awful, bad idea, but as you sit on your knees in the darkened bathroom stall, you can't shake the nervous thrum of excitement vibrating through your entire body at what's about to take place.

This wasn't what you came out with your friend to do tonight — the plan was to go to this new kink bar on Main, party together and maybe take somebody home, if you were interested enough.

The drinks went down way too easily, the bass of the sensual music flowing through you both as you danced together, grinding up against one another without a care in the world. People were staring, of course they were, two hot women in latex in the middle of a sex club? It was inevitable.

Happening upon the secret bathroom was no mistake, your girlfriend pulling you in through the door and laughing in delight as she showed you, multiple private rooms behind blood red doors, slick grey door knockers adorned on them.

"It's all legit, I promise. No creeps, the guys on the door know better than to let them in here, especially Eddie, he would never," she'd assured, "let loose, babe. Put that talented mouth of yours to good use. I'll be in the next one over."

You eye up the stall, draped in red lighting, creating an aura. Taking in your surroundings for the next who-knew how long, with wide, curious eyes.

The hole in the wall itself was quite wide, clearly meant to be there as the plaster is perfectly cut in a circle, cute multicolored sparkles frame it alongside sharpied numbers and lewd messages.

There's a little box at your side, full of various single-use items you may need or want — disinfectant wipes, gum, breath spray, condoms, lube. You giggle, pleasantly shocked by the attention to detail that the club put into it all.

It's clear that this is what these stalls are meant for, to live out the deepest of fantasies in some sort of safety.

It's almost comforting, makes you want to go ahead with it even more, as you sit patiently waiting for somebody to enter the stall on the other side. Busying yourself with using a disinfectant wipe, cleaning any part of the stall that you think you'll come into contact with.

You're so preoccupied that you don't even notice somebody else has entered the room, until you hear the stall door next to your own click shut. Jeans so tight they almost look painted on ghost past the hole in the wall, nervous hands rubbing at the material.

"What the fuck is the etiquette in here?" The guy laughs, to himself mostly, no other greeting, and it's almost endearing. The nervous lilt in his voice obvious.

"I was expecting you to come in here and just shove your dick through the hole, to be fair," you giggle, picking up your drink and taking a sip, "nice of you to talk first, though. Hi, I guess?"

"Hi," he laughs back, breathlessly. You watch as he shuffles around on the other side, nothing more than a thigh and hand in your eyeline, the side of a zipper. Tighter fitting in that area than usual.

"So, do you wanna do this?" You ask, just for confirmation, veins thrumming with nerves and something akin to excitement, "I think I know the answer already, your jeans are, uh, very fucking tight."

"Shit, yeah. You— you're sure you're okay with this, right?" The man's voice is high pitched, whiny and a bit desperate, the clink of his belt against the stall wall enough to shock you, "I just— I don't do this, ever. But my friend he, he gave me these pills 'n I'm just so fucking horny, and you're, well. You're here and offering, God, I wanna."

You clench your thighs together, teetering between both knees as you get comfortable, "I'm okay with it, promise. I wanna, too." You confirm, voice lilted and dripping in desire, "Can you at least tell me your name, though? Wanna know who I'm moaning for."

"Oh, shit," he grunts, shuffling a little so you can see the tips of the auburn loafers he's wearing under the frame of the stall, "I'm Steve. Fuck, dunno if I should've used my real name but, who cares, right?"

Steve.

"Okay then, Steve," you gasp breathily, squeezing your thighs together once again, relishing in the relief it gives the dull ache on your clit, "wanna drop your pants and show me what you're working with?"

You sound far too confident, so confident that you shock yourself. Your hands shake, brain foggy still from one too many tequila shots and bubblegum flavored cocktails. But, Steve's right there and unzipping his pants in your eyeline, your bleary eyes zoning in on tan, slender fingers that you suddenly wish were inside of you.

"Can you— are you okay with me telling you what to do?" Steve asks cautiously, pulling open his jeans and getting ready to drop them. You bite at your glossy lip, the way the denim hangs almost frames the thick bulge in his tight black underwear. You store the picture in your memory for later.

"I like being told what to do," you admit, soft and sweet, "sometimes my brain gets all fuzzy when I'm into it, and I need to be reminded how to act, y'know?"

Steve lets out a strangled noise, a soft chuckle echoing in the room immediately after, "I'll remind you, honey. Don't worry your pretty little head about that."

Your confirmation, the air of arousal in the small space, suddenly has Steve flipping like a switch. You watch with wide eyes as he tugs down his offending clothing covering his thighs, pushing the layers down to his knees, out of his way. His cock springs out, weighed down by its own sheer size, thick and cut.

"Christ," you mutter, your mouth watering, and you desperately grab for the drink you carelessly abandoned at your side, swigging the last of it for a bit of courage. The burning of dark alcohol settling deep and warm in your gut.

You stare unashamedly as he grips the base of his dick, strong fingers wrapping around it, somehow looking dwarfed now. Your jaw already aches and he hasn't so much as pushed the tip past your lips.

"Open wide, honey," Steve's voice drips in sex as he coos his pet name for you, domineering and strong, a very different version of the man who came into the room just minutes earlier, though you can't say it's not a pleasant change.

Your mouth hangs open, tongue lolling out over your bottom lip, putting on a show for the man who can't even see you. You shuffle a little closer, going cross eyed as the wet tip of Steve's cock slides through the hole. You tentatively flick your tongue against the weeping slit, getting a taste of him in your mouth, before wrapping your lips around the head, gently suckling on the salty skin.

"Jesus-fucking-Christ," Steve groans, sighing blissfully as you start up a steady rhythm, allowing saliva to pool on your tongue and help glide your way along his thick shaft, jaw unhinging as if on autopilot for him. The clean, musky taste and scent of him driving you fucking insane, your hands coming up to touch the wall at either side of your head as you bury in further, choking yourself on him.

You know you're sickeningly wet for it, for Steve. Your core runs hot and aches as you lick and suck every inch of his cock you can get to, whining high in the back of your throat as his salty pre slides down your throat, coating your tastebuds in him. It's almost embarrassing how much you enjoy it, losing yourself in making him feel good.

"Y'r so good at this, baby. Fuck me," Steve's forehead thumps against the stall, jolting you slightly, has your rhythm faltering momentarily, teeth grazing ever so slightly down his shaft. He groans, loud and unashamed, punches his hips forwards until you're moaning around your mouthful, vibrations shocking the prettiest sounds from his lips.

"You're rough, huh? Hands on your knees, like a good girl," Steve grunts, rocking his hips into the stall and pushing deeper into your mouth until he's hitting your gag reflex — your throat tightens automatically at the intrusion and he moans, animalistic and needy.

Your hands move on instinct, coming to rest on your thighs, just below the hem of your dress. Your fuzzy head does the work for you, relaxing your jaw and throat for the impending assault. Your panties drip with arousal, eyes rolling into the back of your head, the idea of being used like this doing unspeakable things to your body.

Strong, tan hands wrap around the top of the stall, gold rings glinting in the low mood lighting in the room. You whine, loud and unabashed when you see them grip the plaster. Mind racing at the thought of those hands all over your body.

"Bet you look so fucking good with my cock down your throat," Steve groans, tiny little grunts escaping him as he punches his hips forward in sharp thrusts, "you feel so fucking good, holy shit. Good fucking girl, taking all of me like this."

You know you look obscene — saliva running down your chin, lips raw and puffy, eyeliner and mascara smeared down your cheeks from the tears that spring from your eyes. Your throat feels wrecked, stuffed full on Steve, and you finally show yourself mercy, hand running under your dress to run over the seam of your cunt.

The slick noises of fluid soaked skin crescendo in the room, filthy and disgusting in the most delicious way, erotic and adding to the senses that get you closer and closer to the edge. Your fingers slip deftly over your slick cunt, working at your clit until you're choking on a sob, body alight with how good you feel.

"You crying, baby?" Steve coos, rocking into your mouth again, tears pooling below your top lip, adding to the salty mixture in your mouth, "You're lucky the walls between us, if I saw you crying I'd only go rougher, I'd break you."

You wail, fingers slipping from your pussy as his words rattle in your ears. Your tongue flicks over every inch of him you can get between the harsh thrusts, swallowing him down and mapping out every bit.

"Can hear you fucking yourself in there," Steve comments, and you can't find it in you to even feel embarrassed, not when he's rammed so far down your throat that you're struggling to breathe and gagging, "so fucking hot, wanna watch. Wanna pull on your hair and fuck that tight little throat harder."

Your knees ache, your jaw feels like it's splitting, whole body alight with the pleasure-pain that courses through you. It's like nothing you've ever felt before.

Steve chuckles, an animalistic noise tearing from him when you suck a little harder, chasing his cock as he tries to pull out. Your core burns hotter with every passing swipe of your fingers on yourself, chasing your high so desperately that you can't find it in you to be mortified.

"You close, honey? You've gone a little stupid on my cock," he comments, tutting at you, "if this is how dumb you get on blowing me, I can't wait to see how dumb you get when I'm buried deep in your pussy."

You whimper, tears spilling down your cheeks as you shudder through your orgasm, your cries muffled with Steve's cock. Your fingers work on your clit until your hips shake, slick drips of your creamy release sliding down your inner thighs.

"Perfect little slut," Steve grunts, hips beginning to stutter in their rhythm, a constant stream of steady praises spewing from his lips, "can't believe you came sucking my cock, I'm a fucking stranger. I'm gonna cum, y'r making me cum, holy fuck."

One, two uneven thrusts later, and Steve's hips shove forward for a final time, cock kicking up on your tongue as he releases inside of your slackened mouth. Your brain and gag reflex barely cooperate, some of his load sputtering out from between your lips as you struggle to swallow it all.

Steve's loud when he comes, moaning so unashamedly that it echoes in the room, and you're so sure that your friend in the next one over will hear him, maybe even the one over from that, too. It's mortifying how attractive you find it.

There's an awkward silence once all is said and done, his spent cock slipping from your lips once you're sure he's finished. The sounds of heaving breaths and clothes shuffling are almost deafening in your ears, as you sober up from what could be considered a mind melting experience.

Steve zips his jeans up on the other side, awkwardly chuckling, "Uh, thank you for the best blowjob I've ever had in my entire life, stranger."

You bark out a hoarse laugh in return, shocked by the casualness of it, though it's so endearing — and inflating for the ego, "Thanks, Steve. It was a pleasure getting to suck your dick."

Steve laughs for real that time, breathless and almost incredulous, "I don't know if this is, uh, kink etiquette or whatever but, I'm in this ridiculous black satin shirt. Hairs high enough that you can see it through the crowd, or so my friend says. Come find me out there?"

You're shocked into silence for a moment, brain running on overdrive, trying to comprehend the invitation to actually go see him, after all of that. You feel ridiculous, how could you be prudish after sucking off a stranger?

"Or not?" Steve asks, with a deflated little huff.

"No!" You awkwardly shout, cringing internally, "Uh, I absolutely would love to, Steve. I'm in a black latex dress, I have a red pentagram necklace on, it's hard to miss."

"I'll see you out there then, honey."

[notthecutesttrash]

Defiance

Content: It’s been a few months and Ghostface hasn’t visited since that day. Officially tired of it, you decide to go along with your friend who makes a date with a new alpha for you.

Trigger warnings: 18+ Smut, degradation, lots of blood, death, spanking, implied somnophilia, daddy kink, injury, fingering, oral (male and female receiving), implied stalking, mentions of knives, typical alpha/omega biology

Word count: 13.9k

PART 1

A phone rang beside your figure, disturbing your much peaceful-like silence. With a groan, your hands pulled at the painfully loud object. 

“Hello?” It sounded irritated at first, but you calmed down into a small curiosity. Silence. No noise on the end, not even a small thud to signify any existence. You knew not to get your hopes up, but instinctively your legs shuffled uncomfortably with high anticipation. 

Seconds passed, and still nothing, just sweet awkward silence. Huffing in disappointed frustration, you pulled the object away from your ear and as you were about to place it away, you heard an ushering “Hello..? Helllllo? Helllllloooo?” Recognizing the sound, you exhaled a quick breath of relief.

 “Hi, (F/n).” you exhaled another subconscious sigh, ear pressed against the phone once more. 

“(Y/n)! Thank god, it didn’t seem like my voice was working for a moment. Might’ve pressed mute, not sure. Either way, hey!” The woman spoke with excitement. Knowing her well, you were aware of how she had this mischievous little voice at the end of her words. 

A small flicker of disappointment struck your heart. You long ignored the sad feeling. It was a reoccurring issue since.. that night. 2 months passed, longer it felt even, and not one word.. not one lingering scent.. not a flicker of hope to reassure you about the strange masked man. You were beginning to feel as if it was one hell of a heat dream. 

You knew full well it wasn’t… although long since faded, the knot told you otherwise. Blinking back to reality, you gave out a small fake chuckle. 

“Right. So… what’s your plan? You want to go to a bar to pick up some sexy alphas?” You joked a small irritated feeling deep in your stomach churned at such a thought. 

“Hmmm.. no. Well… maybe.. depends on how your day goes.” The woman nearly broke out in a revealing giggle. Her excitement poured out of her words a little too much for your liking. 

“Uh huh.. and why would such a thing matter?” If you didn’t play into her guessing game soon, you knew the girl would have nearly lost it in patience, and this made you grin. 

A small huff was heard over the phone. “Wellll… I may have met a sexy alpha the other day… got his number.. said it was for a cute little omega such as yourself. He seemed excited, and hey, todayyy he seemed to be… strangely free. What ya thinkin’?” (F/n) beamed, sounding as if she had been at the edge of her seat. 

You continued to fiddle with the fabric of your shorts, picking at the designs one by one. Truthfully, you were hardly ever interested in her experience, but this time you glanced up, looked at the time, shrugged, and said, “Why not?” 

Gasping, the girl broke out with a shocked “Wait…what?! …. Really??!” 

A draft of irritation washed over as you turned your head to your kitchen counter, then over to the windows that showed a clear view of the outside. You mumbled to no one in particular, “It’s not like I’m reserved for any other alpha anyways.” A huff beneath your breath was apparent.  

You stayed silent for a moment before ignoring your anger. 

“Yes… BUT you’re helping me get ready.” 

“I’m on my way,” the woman ushered out in full confidence, causing a swift shared chuckle from both lines. 

Both of you uttered out quick goodbyes soon after. Your body stood up, suddenly feeling a flash of hope cross. 

Stepping in front of the mirror, your eyes took an instant notice of your rough bed ridden horrors. You lightly brushed your fingers through as much as you could. You didn’t think this would make you as excited as it strangely did, but you soon seemed to realize that your body was almost dancing at the thought of finally being able to forget about such occurrences. Your choices could’ve opened wide to any other alpha you wanted, and the thought made you practically laugh at the thought of the masked man. 

Humming happily with a small smile painted on your lips, you shook yourself out of your comfortable pajamas and stared out at your unused clothing. What to wear… you thought. Perhaps something sexy for a date of wine drinking.. perhaps for something fancy like a well-cut steak. Or perhaps something sweet and casual, for a little cafe. Maybe both. Something you assumed (F/n) would’ve thought of, was the idea of a regal yet comfortable bar. 

An omega in such a place could cause harsh dangers, so she always knew, that no matter how cute the date, she would always be there. At most, she had the choice to linger in the background, carefully yet happily watching. 

Time must’ve passed quickly because once the doorbell rang, you were forced out of your deep thoughts. Promptly, you made sure to throw something on before you opened the door to see your very excited friend. Your grin turned into confusion as you scanned over the unused bottle of assumed champagne in her hands. The woman cheerfully waltzed in and set the bottle at the nearest counter. 

“One, what the hell are you wearing? Two… ” her fingernails tapped at the cold bottle. She moved to wrap her arms around your form, pure giddiness exploding out. You shared the same expressions until your hand grabbed at the champagne, your face shifting straight. You didn’t need to say anything for her to quickly begin her reasoning. 

“Well, I decided.. if things go right, you can bring the man home and well.. enjoy yourselves.” She smiled with false innocence, her head bobbing to the side happily. 

“Please..” You snickered with a roll of your eyes, making for a swift turn towards your now messy room. The moment her eyes gazed upon the atmosphere she now was the one to give you a blank stare, hardly impressed with your options. 

“You were never good with choosing what to wear were you?” She sighed, hands at her hips, eyebrows raised sarcastically. 

“That’s why I have you.” You beamed with a ding, throwing a flattering shirt towards her form.

She caught it well, giving it a quick look and a hum…  It didn’t last long, and she rapidly flicked it to a messy pile of “definitely not” clothes. Her form moved to your closet, and her arms began searching as if it was her damn job. You sat upon your bed, watching how she moved, hearing how she muttered “no. Definitely not. Hmm.. maybe.. no.. yes..” Under her breaths, until she eventually found a flattering pick. 

She pressed it against your skin, forcing with gestures for you to get off your ass. This was an important matter clearly, and she wanted you to look at least damn good. (F/n) pressed the dress against your neck, lining it up perfectly so she could see where it falls and where it begins. The dress dropped down to your mid-thighs, its pinkish color making you stand out just a little, but still be a part of a group with its simple sweet design. 

“Something like this will do.” (F/n) nodded with affirmation, plucking at its design. 

You shrugged, lightly shooing her out of the room before you undressed once more. 

Allowing the soft fabric to glaze over your skin, you softly smiled, feeling much more shyly omega than you would have considered. Nonetheless, the color matched well with your hair, and although your bare legs were revealed, and it was a common sight, them being exposed because of a dress made you feel inevitably shyer. 

There was that lovely little submissive omega side of you coming out. 

You stood in front of the mirror a little longer, somewhat admiring the look of yourself. (F/n) whined her rushed words, and you soon got out of your dazed look, not realizing that your eyes were already blown out of proportion at the thought of being taken hard and nicely by a dominant alpha. A trickle of wetness produced and dripped slightly down your panties. 

A strange familiar scent made you curiously peak up at the window beside you. You weren’t sure why this was your instinctual thought. Either way, you couldn’t think of it for too long before you opened your door, letting the excited woman in. 

“Look at you! If I was an alpha I know I’d want to take you,” she jokingly purred. You awkwardly blushed, your legs pressing against each other sheepishly, fearful that your arousal might’ve been obvious. Body getting hot and flushed, you decided to change the subject. Quickly walking out to where the champagne bottle had been placed, your fingernails eagerly picked at its cold wrapper. 

Once (F/n) followed and gazed at the sight, a quick inevitable gasp caused her to rush up to you and nearly slap your greedy hands away. 

“No no no, absolutely not.” She said, cradling the bottle as if it was her child, away from my sight. 

“Not even just a little..?” You fake pouted, eyes growing wider. 

“I don’t think so, sweetie. Your nonsense doesn’t work on us betas. But nice try. This is for later.” The girl placed it back down, her hand patting at it. 

“Hmm.. but what if there was no later?” You hummed, your body swinging side to side, your sweet dress following along with it. It almost made you feel like a princess. 

“And you wonder why you don’t want to go out and meet new alphas.” (F/n) shot at you sarcastically. 

A small laugh escaped, but it soon drifted into a deep sudden thought. If only the true reason wasn’t so strange and horrid sounding. 

“Okay (Y/n), he’ll be about there in 20 minutes or so. Are you ready to be treated like a queen?” She mused half-jokingly. Before you could even muster an answer, she spoke with small anger.

“I’ll make sure on my damn life he will.” You knew she was serious, considering she was giving you a deep gaze. You only nodded. 

Her mouth opened to speak once more, but it was quickly interrupted by the sound of the all too familiar phone ring. Exhaling a sigh, you gestured away for a moment, taking time to move to your living room. Once you grabbed the phone, you answered with honey, tiptoeing with excitement. 

“Hello?” 

"Omega..” 

Your heart leaped into your throat, and suddenly your feet dropped. 

“What is my sweet little omega doing today?” 

 You inhale sharply, your heart begins to stammer with quick fear. The tone was deep.. familiar.. terrifyingly cold and secretly irritated. It was to the point where it felt as if the man behind the tone might as well just have stabbed you himself. It didn’t help that your cunt might have gotten fearfully aroused. You didn’t say a single word, frozen in every emotion you might’ve thought of. 

“(Y/n)! Who is it?!” (F/n) shouted from the kitchen, a sound of shuffling evident. 

With that, you took it as an instinctual need to slam the phone down into its receiver as fast as you could. “Nothing.. just.. wrong number!” You exhaled shakily to yourself, walking away from the room to where (F/n) was. She was grabbing at your mother and your father’s kitchenware, poking and prodding around. “It’s a good thing your parents are almost always never home. Imagine what they would do if they found a big bottle of champagne in your kitchen with some hot alpha stranger,” she spoke all while shoving a giant spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. 

You said nothing, unable to muster out any thought. Continuing to breathe erratically, you moved to your window, as if you were perhaps fearful that someone or something might be there. 

“Are you okay?” (F/n) knitted her eyebrows together, voice laced with worry. 

“Yeah.. just… weird.” You couldn’t say much else but she simply just shrugged it off, nodding away. 

“Tell me about it.” 

“Anyways.. are we gonna go?” You rushed to say, your eyes glued to the woman in somewhat hidden fear. 

She nodded. “Let’s do it.”

She placed the champagne into the fridge comfortably, then grabbed her keys. You were still frantically looking out of every window within your radius, all while trying to casually follow (F/n) to the door. 

Once more, as you were about to take a few more steps, the phone rang. 

“Again?” (F/n) threw her hands in the air with a groan and a quick roll to her eyes. “I’ll be in the car, just answer it real quick.” 

You contemplated on whether or not to truly ignore it once she had turned away… or to use this opportunity to ask why, to get angry and yell that the son of a bitch left you and had the nerve to call now when you were finally about to have fun again. With an angered huff, you walked back to the phone, your hands wrapping around it with a pause. An indecisive fear rushed once more, but you swallowed it back and pushed the phone to your ear. 

“Don’t you fucking dare (Y/n).”

It didn’t take more than a second for a deeply upset alpha to be heard. The words were supposed to anger you, supposed to make you feel a raging determination. But instead, you instinctively whimpered out, the omega in you feeling painfully complacent, an urging desire to please. Wetness poured down your panties at the thought of staying here, waiting until the masked assailant would come back and fuck you horribly raw for hours. 

A quick thought of anger recoiled into you. This is your time to show that you’re not just gonna be a desperate little omega waiting around for your ass of an alpha. Your rational side struck in, and the black of your eyes and the wetness of your twitching pussy calmed quickly. 

“Remember what I said ome-“ you slammed the phone into its receiver once more. Your omega side was getting desperate, but luckily you were filled with enough anger to slightly ignore it. 

Remember what? You hissed to yourself angrily, your stomped steps leaving a loud trail behind you. The nerve this man had, to call you after months. To have the nerve to knot you and leave his apparent “sweet little omega” alone. The door slammed behind you and you couldn’t help but noticeably tense up your facial features. He was out there, fucking omega after omega, probably using his little stupid getup to make sure no woman could chase after him. 

A large, deep furious boiling envy overtook you. Your thoughts were racing one after another, not realizing you reached the car that (F/n) had been calmly waiting in. 

She turned to you, “Are you sure you’re okay? Who was it on the phone? You look pissed. Like someone cheated on you pissed.” Her brows once more scrunched in worry and confusion. 

You bit your tongue, holding back every little bit of retort that revealed what that whole situation was. Exhaling a sigh, you stepped inside the vehicle and made sure to simply keep your angry thoughts in the back of your head. “Dude just won’t stop calling the wrong number,” you half-joked in an attempt to ease the conversation. 

“Maybe “dude” just wanted to hear your cute little voice.” She poked at your side, teasing as she buckled in. Playfully rolling your eyes, you turned to gaze out your window, lingering on the trees outside your house. “You know what they say, the moment you get taken every hottie in town suddenly calls you up.” She chuckled, her hands grabbing at the steering wheel. Humming in response, your peering quickly stopped once your house was beginning to get further and further. 

Once the place was long gone from your head and eyes, your worries slipped away, and you once more began to remember why you truly were here in the first place. Your conversations made your mind settle with ease, and (F/n)’s demeanor caused some oblivious happiness within you. The omega within you was once more anxious.. yet aroused at the thought of meeting another alpha. 

“All right (Y/n) you got this.” (F/n) smiled reassuringly, patting your arm as you both unbuckled your seats and stepped within a radius of what you correctly assumed was a pretty-looking bar. The anxiousness settled within your stomach, in turn, you exhaled a rough sigh. There were a few whiffs of scents that crossed your nose, one that smelled like pure ash and cigarettes which almost made you scrunch up in disgust. 

It was when your feet stepped into the area, that you hummed at the sweet smell of cinnamon, perhaps a vanilla even. (F/n) silently gestured to the man as lowly as she could, and with her last words she parted from you, meddling into a seat far enough but still in perfect view. Throwing her a look once you had sat down freely next to the man, he gave you a look as if to disregard you. It was an awkward second before he had looked over your form once more. This time it lingered, and surely he could smell you as much as you could him. 

“You must be that beautiful omega that (F/n) was telling me about.” The man spoke, a rather sexy grin spreading, his head tilting in intrigue. 

A small blush spread across your cheeks, and you shyly tucked your hair to your ear. Eyes ogling at one another, his gaze appeared as if it was drinking at the sight of you. You could tell he was thinking harsh things considering his scent shifted strongly, causing your heat to tingle with excitement. With slight blackened eyes, he licked at his lips before taking a long sip of his drink, a sexy groan following. 

The arousal already between your legs was obvious, and so was his.  

“What’s your name?” You asked innocently, head tilting with genuine curiosity. 

He hummed at this, smiling in a way that got your pussy tingling. The silky name rolled off his tongue with ease. 

“(Y/n)” you responded shyly, curling your legs tighter.

“Pretty name,” he smiled. Thinking nothing of it, you smiled back. 

“Want a taste?” The man pulled his drink towards you, his eyebrow raising. 

You thought for a moment, before shrugging. Lips wrapping around where his once was, warm arousal in your abdomen surged to your sex. The liquid slipped in, and you savored it sweetly as it hit your tongue. It was cold, refreshing with a thin tinge of grape. It wasn’t as rough as you expected, and you took another sip, soon moaning out your approval. The burn in your throat lasted for a few small seconds. 

You were oblivious to the arousal you gave him, and you were too innocent to realize how his eyes were darkening by the second. Once you handed him his drink back, you proceeded to order the same. 

“What is it?” You asked after eventually receiving a copy of his glass. 

 “Ciroc,” he mused with a dark tone. You blinked at him and he couldn’t help but chuckle deep. That response ignited a small instinctive hitched breath from your form. Luckily you were able to hide… some of your pure attraction.

 “It’s vodka, sweet omega.” He said, smiling down at you with such a piercing look that you were sure he could read right through you.

Muttering out an “Oh,” your shy gaze dropped from his dominating peering, a trickle of wetness pouring into your already-soaked panties. You awkwardly sipped at your drink, too shy to glimpse back at his eyes. At the simple gesture of not meeting his gaze, his orbs blackened more so, surely thinking what a sweet, and perfectly submissive little omega you were. 

The smell of your sex caused him to groan out huskily. Taking another long gulp of his drink, he breathed in such a way as if to signify that he was losing his mind. You took another shared sip of your drink, eyes peeking towards (F/n). She glanced away as soon as your eyes met, a grin spreading wide upon her proud features. 

It was silent for a moment, but it wasn’t awkward. It was knowing, and the air was filled with a musk scent that a few others couldn’t help but turn their heads to. Betas or not, it was obvious what was happening between a clear alpha and unclaimed omega. It was until about halfway of being finished with your drink, that you decided. 

“Do.. “ you paused, catching his dark gaze once more. His attention was fully on you, and that wasn’t changing anytime soon. “Do you… want to get out of here..maybe.. go to my place?” You shyly asked, fiddling with your fingers, eyes stuck on the man in front of you. 

The man grabbed at your drink and downed every last bit of liquid there was. He ushered the bartender over and pulled out his wallet. Something so simple, such as his counting was aggressive and filled with arousal. He handed what he needed over to the other man, paying for what seemed like much more than just yours and his drink. How much did he have before you arrived? 

His hand grabbed at yours, and this prompted you to get off your seat and follow. You rotated to (F/n) and she swiftly did the same, following after she practically slammed her change on the table. When you were outside again, the day had gotten already so dark, and you could tell it was soon about to be night within perhaps an hour. 

The alpha looked impatient, and within a second he turned around to you, his lips smashed into yours. It tasted of hard liquor and from this, you hummed. Your hand lightly wrapping around the back of his neck, pushing him in for more. A low growl came from his throat, and a soft whimper followed from your own. 

“Hey, hey, before you two go crazy on each other…” Both of your features couldn’t help but irritatingly stop and turn to the voice of (F/n) who was holding her hands up as if she was innocent. 

She gestured to you, throwing you her keys. You caught them and pulled away shyly, exhaling a shaky aroused breath. It was obvious that both you and the alpha wanted to do whatever you wanted to do instantaneously. The thought of having to wait at most about 10 minutes or so, shouldn’t have seemed like it was a big deal, but for both a very aroused omega and alpha to sit together not doing a single thing to another for even two minutes, that sounded like torture.

Both you and the man hadn’t made a move, and you simply stayed silent. She gazed at your forms, able to tell that a heavy whiff of impatience and arousal poured into the atmosphere. So much so that you’d basically just fuck in the car.

(F/n) sighed. “All right, give me the keys. You two better hold it in your pants.” She huffed, rounding to the driver’s seat. You sheepishly followed, your hands together at your legs. The man grunted at the unfortunate plan of not only (F/n) there, but the thought of simply having to be patient for a moment before the definite plan of fucking you senseless. 

The woman patted the passenger seat with a stern stare as if she was purposely pulling you two away from one another, knowing full well what would happen if you both were in the backseats. 

The man grumbled and although he was breathing heavily both out of need and heavy impatience, he silently moved to sit in the seat. You moved to the back seat, sitting in the middle, your gaze down to your feet. Tightly, your legs were pressed to one another, afraid that your arousal would pour down your thighs and onto the leather.

The silence was painful once (F/n) had begun to calmly drive. Surely, your mind and his were clouded with lust, the thoughts of taking, or being taken repeating. The man’s leg was impatiently bouncing up and down. 

The alpha’s heavy breathing and soft growls were clouding your mind. Your heat was drenching your panties even more at the thought of stepping inside your house and instantly being fucked as hard as the man could muster. 

Your nose inhaled as much as it could to get every little scent of the alpha. Eyes closing and head rolling to your side, you nearly dropped on the seats. The instinctive need to slip your fingers down your cunt, to roll around at your clit, was becoming difficult to ignore. The harsh omega within you nearly slipped as many times as it could, before your nearing smaller and smaller rational side, exclaimed loudly to hold back. 

“Hey hey.. (Y/n).” Your eyes fluttered, blinking tiredly up at (F/n). The car was unmoving, parked perfectly at your house. How long were you just sitting there thinking? 

“Come on girl, get up.” She gestured at you, moving down to talk closer to your ear. “You got a sexy alpha waiting for you.”

Nearly moaning, your wobbly legs arose, moving towards your front door. (F/n) didn’t follow, and instead, she simply waved at both of your figures, shouting a nonchalant “Have fun!” She was quick to wink, sitting back in the car to drive off as fast as she could. Your hands were grabbing at your keys, attempting poorly to unlock the door.

The alpha moved against your back dangerously close, his mouth at your neck, growling and nearly biting into claim you. You weren’t even inside yet and your legs felt weak, mouth sputtering with harsh moans. Eventually, through many long seconds, you managed to open the door, and as quickly as it was opened, it was closed with both of your bodies now pressed against each other into a melted kiss. Your back was against the door, and your legs instinctively wrapped around the alpha’s body, hands desperately clutching on his back. 

His erection prodded at your sex, and with this, he made sure to grind against you real hard. You squealed out a whimpered “Alpha!” 

Growling once more, his lips didn’t stop kissing yours for what felt like minutes until he finally pulled away. It allowed you to pant for a long moment as he began to eagerly kiss your neck, licking along your beautiful unclaimed spot. You couldn’t ponder anything over the heated arousal and the wave of pleasure that he sent you with a single kiss.

You took a whiff through your nose, and a long moan poured from your lips. Continuing to inhale to achieve the same bliss, a small smile tugged at your lips. You did it once more, and with each time that you did, it was getting stranger and stranger.

Ultimately your eyes opened, and your focus drifted not to the kissing of the man on you, but the strange scents that were mixing. It smelt.. strong, so very strong, but it didn’t seem as if it was coming from the alpha practically on top of you. 

In a way.. it smelt like it was.. behind his form. It was as if there was a thick musk surrounding him in a perfect barrier. The alpha in front of you was beginning to lose his unique aroma.. in truth, you weren’t sure what his smell was anymore.

You couldn’t help but drown in this new smell, your moans now belonging to the lovely scent that you were inhaling like a drug. You lost notice of how the alpha at your neck was lightly sinking his teeth in. 

“Mmm..” Soft breaths of yours filled the atmosphere, and the alpha tightened his grip on your thighs, pulling your form and his away from the wall and into another room. His gaze caught your living room, and he swiftly pulled you over to the location and greedily threw you on the couch with him on top of you. Your legs softened tightened him, and soon you realized he was still tasting and licking at your neck, his teeth inching more and more in. 

This caused you to inevitably pause. The omega within you was going insane, it was finally going to get what it needed. 

A small voice screamed No. 

This isn’t what you wanted. 

“Wait..” You muttered out, your hands on his shoulders. He only growled in return, continuing even more so. His teeth grazed your neck too deep for your liking. Half of you started to panic as much as you could before your instinctual need to be claimed had gotten out of control. “W-Wait… alpha..” You tried to mutter out through your desperate moans.

Once again, no response, and this time when you felt his teeth, you craned your neck back, crying out loud in pleasure. Your mind was becoming cloudy, and you only managed to whimper out a few “no’s” before you submitted into your quivering need. Your legs clamped around him as hard as could be, and the sinking displeasure grew painfully quiet.

The man raised his head and looked deep into your needy yet desperate tearful orbs. “Omegas don’t talk back to their alphas.” These words were dark and at any other point It would have been upsetting.. but in instantaneous response, you nodded your head, pleasure and heat overwhelming your mind. 

He furthered the treatment upon your neck, sinking back into a comfortable place. Your eyes closed, delving into the man’s passion. The voice in your head said nothing other than how you needed this claim. Your nose inhaled a large beautiful whiff of that same sexy scent.. it was delicious and even closer than before.

His teeth began to dig in deep, and as you were about to scream out a “yes!” Every action ceased. The man grunted loudly out of character, and he felt unusually stiff. When you blinked open your eyes in soft confusion, they widened, and a gasp caused you to nearly scream out. The man on top of you choked out stuttering breaths, his body raising as he observed the scene. The tip of a deep familiar knife evident through his chest poked through, blood pouring around the sudden wound. 

You violently quivered as not a second passed before the same weapon yanked out and jabbed through another part of the man’s body… The man choked out globs of red over the pink of your dress. Breath caught, and throat dry, your quivering shocked eyes stuck to the man above you.

Your eyes gazed deep into one another, his orbs were filled with sudden shock of pain, pure horrid confusion. He couldn’t mutter a syllable as the blade was taken out once more, only to stab into his back continuously. Again.. and again.. and again.. it was sickening, and all you could do was watch as your stomach violently churned. 

Red splattered at your lips, and the alpha body poured out with blood.. so much blood, and with each jab, the splatter flicked at your features.

You took in a sharp inhale, tears cascading down your cheeks as you began to grasp even a moment of the scene. The man coughed up once more until it looked as if the light had faded from his eyes. No words were made as he fell limp. His torso swung to the floor, and when you had managed to glimpse up.. your throat tightened in horror.

Tears were pouring down your terrified orbs that had caught with an all too familiar masked figure. 

Ghostface tilted his head, his right hand gripping a horribly bloody knife. His left hand moved in a slow mocking wave, and although you couldn’t see it, an evil grin felt as if it was painting his face. The adrenaline of your fight or flight response took off, and instinctively you raced off the couch, fear burning and hammering into your heart. 

“Oh come on now (Y/n), don’t run. It’ll only make this a lot harder.” 

Ignoring the voice, you dashed to your front door, knowing full well that if you ran to the phone it wouldn’t end up in your favor. Your heart was racing as you slammed it open, and you were soon darting through the grass and trees that littered your area.

Sticks and rocks were hitting your clothed feet, the darkness pouring around your figure made it impossibly easy to see nothing ahead of you. Running continuously as far as your legs could take you, your torn blurry eyes made it so that a few dangerous branches and trees, were hardly noticeable.

Breathing frantically, the blistering cold atmosphere whipping at your face made the air feel impossibly thin. Time felt as if it was slow, oh so slow as you were terrified of being caught. No matter how much distance you made, you needed more, you were sure he was hot on your tail, ready to dig his blade into your back. Your breaths were short and you were on the verge of hyperventilating. 

You took a deep inhale through your nose as much as you could while sprinting, and when you had smelt possibly nothing, you only calmed down slightly. Hand grasping the bark of a tree, your body paused for a moment just for your aching panic to hammer deep into your chest. When you were beginning to sprint once more to make way for much distance, you realized there was a terrible gnawing pain in your stomach, followed by a pain in your tightened chest for every deep inhale you took. 

A crack in the nearby area caused instantaneous fear, and with this, you made sure to ignore every bit of your clenching muscles. Direction mattered less, and for all you cared, you could run into a ditch that was up ahead. The determination in your body became constant, striving to sprint as fast as your legs could. 

Eyes beginning to get impossibly cloudy, and pace becoming a little slower, you panted without realizing how loud you must’ve sounded. The nearing scent of alpha was surrounding closer and closer. Forcing yourself to break out into an even faster dash, and your exhausted muscles were crying out. 

A crack beneath your feet caused you to hiss out in yelped pain, forcing an inevitable pause. A shard of what felt like glass lodged itself deep into your foot. The crinkles increased in sound when your body met with the cold forest ground. A harsh jab hit then hit at your bare knee. 

Whimpering out, you bit at your hand to keep yourself quiet. A large instantaneous fear wracked your body. The recent memory of blood splattering on your face and seeing the light fall from the man’s face before you surged in your head. The omega within you poured out in sobs, tears pathetically streaming at the fear of what would happen if the alpha found you. 

It was wrong, it was disgusting, it was terrible. 

Tears poured out, and even with a chunk of your hand lodged deep in your mouth, you couldn’t help but whine out loud, the pain of your cut foot searing across your leg. You panted out hot breaths, your hand grabbing at the tree near your fallen form. With every last bit of strength you had, your fingers held tight and clamped down. Quickly, you forcefully stood yourself up. 

The moment your cut bloody skin had even remotely touched the ground, you squealed with pain. Your toes curled, and although this caused more blood to trickle down, you mustered up the courage to continue. Both feet hit against the floor, and with a hiss, you only managed to move a few steps. 

The air around you overflowed with that same lovely yet terrifying scent. It was overpowering and you subconsciously whimpered, helpless, your eyes becoming blackened at just the thought of him nearing your figure. With a poor attempt to shake it off, you stepped forward slowly. The aroma became stronger and stronger. Your sex was throbbing and the fear of disobeying your alpha so heavily was impulsively making you stop in your tracks. 

Don’t give in, don’t give in.. the rational voice in your head screamed out, rapidly thinning away in seconds. 

Leather-like hands snaked their way to the nape of your neck, slowly wrapping around to your front. The scent was terrifyingly strong, your legs trembled, your pussy ached, and your stomach churned. The masked man leaned down, his lips close to your ear. 

“I fucking told you.” 

You shivered with fear at his harsh tone. A soft whimper followed once his fingers graced your hair. Growing smaller and smaller the more he had caressed, you instinctively turned to him, sheepish. The masked figure was an inch away from your quivering form. You could feel his cold angry gaze, and from this you shrunk, your fearful gaze moving to the ground in response. 

“Look what happened because you didn’t fucking listen little one.” He grabbed at your chin and harshly forced you to look at him. Tears were straining in your eyes. Even with your attempts to keep a stronghold, a few escaped through the thinning barricade. There was a strong anger burning in his silky voice and you quivered, terrified. The remaining peering made your body burn with discomfort. Yet mainly saddened by your alpha’s extreme disappointment, you bit at your lip, holding a barely remaining effort to glare at him back. 

Ghostface tilted his head as if knowing you were attempting to challenge him. There's an unmoving scrutinization, and he coiled your strands in his finger so menacingly slow. This action gets your touch-starved side quivering in arousal. The more you stared back, the more the omega within you exploded out. Tears eventually burst in cascades from your eyes. 

The masked man’s fingers moved to play at your hair teasingly. “Little omega can’t be good for her daddy can she..?” He was apathetic once he finally saw you break. This cruel tone made your chest wrack more with continuous sobs. 

His fingers wiped away at a few of the wet streams, almost more irritated at the sight of the pathetic tears. 

“Maybe that’s a good thing… I like a little fight anyways.” Ghostface snickered lowly to himself. His masked features inched closer to your wet cheeks, voice darkening. 

“But.. maybe I should have let the asshole claim you. Knot you deep so you could live your little serene life in a plain home with 4 pups.” His finger prickled at his sharp bloody blade, tone dark and amused at seeing your heart stammer in response. Instinctively you shook your head, your blown-out orbs pleaded with his, practically begging for the alpha to forgive you. 

“No? You don’t like that?” He teased, knowing well that it was causing more of your desperate tears to stream. You shook your head a desperate no once more, your choked cries causing you to struggle with your breaths. 

“Say it.” 

You sniffed, attempting hard not to break out in more tears. “N-N-No..” 

“So is my sweet little girl going to be all good for me?” 

You nodded your head in response quickly. He stayed silent, and your broken voice responded with a stuttering “Yes..” 

“Yes, what?” 

“Y-Yes Daddy..I-I..” Sniffling, you attempted to rub away at your continuous cries.  

“Hmm.. I’m still not sure you can.” He challenges further, and although you knew at this point he was just being cruel, your throat tightened in response. 

“N-No.. I-I am..!” You managed to argue out before more tears broke out into weeps.  

“Are what?” He shot back quickly, unphased by the desperate sight. 

You inhaled as much as you could to calm your chest.  “I-I.. can be.. good..I-I swear… I a-am good.” You struggled to rasp out through your hiccuped cries. Gaping, you peered into where his gaze would be, seeking any emotion, any form of approval. As expected you received nothing.

“Hmm..” Still, he seemed unamused. His knife trailed at your chest lightly. This choked out more sobs, not because you were afraid he was going to jab the blade in, but fearful that he would leave you in this cold forest once and for all.

You disobeyed your alpha, let another touch you, kiss you, nearly claim you, all because of your anger. Ghostface stepped back, head tilting slightly to observe the cut at your knee. Blood dripped down your leg, reaching your drenched red sock, covering your foot that looked more harmed than anything. 

“Fucking clumsy omega,” The masked man hissed, moving his arms to swiftly pull you over his back with little to no struggle. Your stomach pushed against his shoulder, and you muffled a whimper when his hand grabbed at your ass.

Ghostface began to walk, and you didn’t know where he was taking you, but you were terrified. You hiccuped into him as you tried to breathe through your stuffy nose, and nothing in you tried to struggle, instead, you were just clutching onto his cloak desperately, afraid the alpha was going to let go of you forever. 

The shock of your sore wounded body came into effect, and you began to hiss at the pain of the deep cut on your foot. Still, the anxiety of him leaving you stung more than any bit of pain could. Continuous snot and tears drenched the back of his cloak as your face pushed into him, begging and pleading. You didn’t know how long you were sobbing into him truthfully, but it seemed as if forever had passed.

A door opened and closed, and Ghostface tugged at your form, and your rear instantaneously hit against a mattress that sprung you back up. Your back hit against a wall with a light thud, and you whimpered when the man pulled the bloody sock away from your wounded foot.

You quickly realized that you were in the comfort of your room, and the man had set you on your bed. Ghostface was peering at your cuts, seeing how there were small shards of what looked to be glass stuck in the wound. The masked man walked away for a moment, leaving you confused. Your panicked tears calmed down slightly once he came back with what looked to be a first aid kit taken from your medicine cabinet. 

How did he know where that was? 

The thought was pushed away when he grabbed a small pair of tweezers and moved it towards your knee. You instinctively moved away. “No!” You yelped, terribly afraid of how harsh the pain would be. The man exhaled a more patient yet still irritable sigh. He peered into your frightened orbs.

“If I don’t do this, you’re going to be in a lot more pain soon,” the man reasoned dangerously. It almost sounded like a threat, but the omega within you trusted your alpha with your life, and you hesitantly nodded, relaxing. 

“Good girl,” he eased, and your stammering heart fluttered, Blinking down at his form, your tears quieted for a moment as he had moved the object to your knee. 

Did he mean that..? 

You sniffed and wiped away at your wet cheeks, a newfound hope deep within your heart. 

It didn’t last for long as you felt a sharp digging inside your skin, and you groaned out loud in recoil. The metal object moved inside your bloody cut as if it was searching for anything in particular. A warm liquid rushed down your leg and although you were attempting to hide your uttering squeals, a loud cry escaped when a shard of glass cut deeper into your skin. 

The instant relief that followed after once he grabbed and took it out, was enough for you to ease. The pain began promptly again when he repeated the action to scan for other shards. When nothing was found, he moved to your numb-like foot. You didn’t feel as much there as you should’ve. You began to softly whine to yourself, easing into a ball of helpless cries. 

The anesthetic that he rubbed on you afterward was cold, soothing, and not as harsh as you expected. He did it well as if he’d done such a thing a thousand times over. The man wrapped bandages around your wounded areas, and he did this so expertly that your eventually blurred calmer orbs began gazing over him, your heart blooming at the idea of your alpha taking care of you so well. 

When he was about done tying up the last bit of the bandages, he simply glimpsed up at you, then moved to stand tall before you. You had forgotten how much taller he was than you, and because of your sitting form, you raised your head to look up at him. His fingers moved to your lips, rubbing at your skin, erupting a shaky hitched breath from your teary self. 

Ghostface continued rubbing his thumb against you. The urge to suck at him was impossible to ignore when he had teasingly entered only slightly, just to take it away and repeat. Your breaths were struggling to keep up with his fingers, and you didn’t realize that your tongue was desperately attempting to drag against him. Tears were still softly pouring down your eyes, and yet your need desired so plainly to taste the sweet tangy leather. 

“Such a filthy little slut.” Ghostface declared a matter of factly, dipping his thumb over your tongue, this time keeping it there. 

With a pout, you calmly pressed your tongue and moved at his still thumb. You horrendously cringed, shivering with disgust. A terrible metal-like tasting liquid dripped against your tongue. You knew it wasn’t just your blood, and the thought made you revolt.

Continuous tears spilled from your eyes at the thought of such a horrid thing. You felt sickened for what was on him. Yet.. the instinctual need to keep sucking on it, made your pussy tingle with excitement. Remaining silent, he observed as you sucked up his thumb greedily with both disgust and need flashing across your face. A chuckle was heard, and you gazed up at him, orbs blackened.

He dipped his other bloody fingers in. You gave out an inevitable moan of disgust. Nonetheless, once it settled over your tongue, you began to hum softly, licking around the shape of his fingers quickly.

The silence remained, and eventually, your continuous lapping slowed. The stammering in your chest calmed significantly, and the tears drifting out had paused, leaving only your wet flushed cheeks. Your focus only shifted to the filthy yet somehow delicious taste of the leather over your alphas fingers, leaving your panicked state soon, hushed and needy.

This was disgusting.. so terribly wrong… yet so frighteningly good 

Your pussy tightened at the impulsive imagination of loving sex with your alpha. His unmoving gaze was strong, and his breaths were darker. Moaning softly, you continued to suck and lick at his now clean-covered fingers.

You ogled up at him, desperate (e/c) spheres, hoping with such a needy gaze that he could see you were begging for him to fuck you through your arousal, and to continue even after. A growl burned in his throat, and with this, his fingers swiftly pulled away from your desperate tongue. You whimpered at the removal.

“Take off your dress,” he demanded with ice, concluding a swift end to your whines. 

“Now.” It was such a tone that you feared the outcome too, and that was all it took before you nodded. Sheepishly your form stood up with a small hiss of lingering pain over your foot and knee. It was bearable and not nearly as harsh as you had recalled a moment ago. Hands clutching at your bloody spotted dress, you slowly flipped it over your form, and threw it at the ground. Timidly your legs crossed, your pretty pink bra and drenched panties within clear sight.

Ghostface’s fingers trailed at the fabric over your breasts and you exhaled a hitched shaky breath. His knee moved in between your legs, forcefully separating them. You submitted effortlessly and he angled his mask to your wet thighs, your thin panties nearly displaying the throbbing pussy beneath it. 

“And to think that asshole was trying to get all of this for himself,” there was a dark chuckle that left him, genuine amusement in his silky voice. Fingers moved at your chin, and he gently moved your features to his level, your shy dilated orbs gawking into where you assumed his would be.

“I fucking own you.. got that?” He spoke lowly, irritated, fingers moving to your lips once more. Your legs attempted to cross at the throbbing arousal, and you quivered at the thought. Bowing your head in agreement, he moved to your ear, whispering so darkly that chills ran down your spine. 

“Next time I won’t hesitate to punish my little omega.” The pout was evident and he darkly laughed. “But.. if princess is a good girl then there won’t be a next time. Right?” You shook your head in response.  

“Say it.” 

“N-No Daddy… there won’t be a next time..” You whispered sweetly, voice still evidently cracking and stuttering from your previous sobs. Your focus was glued to his mask, and he hummed in approval, his blade suddenly snapping at your bra. It fell in pieces to the floor, and you instinctively attempted to cover your shy breasts.

Hand moving towards your arms, he pushed them away effortlessly, fingers moving at your tender nipples. You hissed out, moaning through your teeth as he wrapped his hand around, and gave a swift tight squeeze. A surge of arousal rushed down to your heat, and a loud moan poured from your lips like honey.

The same blade flicked at your panties, and you instinctively pouted at the thought of the set you had bought now going into the trash. The fabric slipped down your legs, your wet sex throbbed in response, and you could feel the man giving you a hungry ogling. 

“I should make you suck my cock after all that. My little omega doesn’t deserve any more.” You instinctively moaned at the threat, the idea of his cock deep in your throat struck such elation. Chuckling darkly, his fingers graced your gaping lips, moving towards your tongue.

“You’d still love that wouldn’t you?” Without hesitation you moaned in approval, tongue circling his leather glove. 

The masked killer hummed, “Of course, you would, such a slutty girl.” Saying nothing, you continued to stare up at him, neither denying nor confirming. 

“I’ve been enjoying seeing you walk around in those cute little panties of yours every day.” Gasping not in disbelief of him stalking you, but as to why he never visited, you moved to speak and he cut you off, moving impossibly close to your ear.

“I’ve been wanting to fuck you raw for a long time now… and to see this little shit get so close to you, makes me want to ram you against the wall and pound your insides until you’re begging me to stop.“ Moving away from your quivering figure that was cherishing the idea, he gave you a condescending pat on your cheek.

“But, I’m not going to do that-“ your body slumped and your lips opened in a saddened retort. “I’m not going to fill up your pussy with every bit of cum I have inside of me… I know my sweet omega would love that too much..”

“But that’s not-!” The man’s gloved finger hovered over your lips, warning you to be swiftly quieted. A quick pout befell. 

“If my omega continues to be good again, then I’ll fuck her senseless. But for now.. that’s not the case.. is it?” Ghostface’s tone was ridiculing, and surely a smug mean smile was painted on his lips. Orbs dropping in disappointment, tears prickled at your eyes, lips pursing. 

“Is it? Omega?” 

“No..” your sad small voice whispered out, a tear trailing down. 

“Good girl..” He purred, trailing his voice wickedly, allowing your heart to flutter only slightly. To say you weren’t good, then to call you such right after was cruel.

His leather fingers trailed downwards, moving slowly towards your aching pussy. Your breath caught in your throat unexpectedly, eyes trailing at the man’s empty sockets. He watched your needy expressions, your anticipation dripping in your sex impatiently. 

Ghostface dipped his masked fingers into your folds, softly.. slowly..  toying with your wetness. A shy moan escaped, and your face moved swiftly towards his neck. Your hands wrapped around, and you couldn’t help but wiggle your hips longingly into his fingers. All rational sense of questioning had vanished as you had begun melting into his hands.

His slight simple touches caused your desperate trembling pussy to clench around nothing, as he continuously dipped his fingers only slightly in, to quickly take them out. Erratically, moaning into his neck, your tongue graced over the fabric. The man took the time to inhale, and with this, he lulled out a delicious-sounding grunt. The smell of yours colliding with his, only caused his stiff dick to twitch more. Feeling this, you bit at your lip, a past statement of his echoing in your head. 

You moved away from him, and you could feel the confusion through the black holes of his mask. Knees touching the floor, you met his eyes with black wide pupils. Everything in you desired to make your alpha happy with you again, if he wasn’t, you just wouldn’t know what to do with yourself.

Your pleading fixation made it clear you desired this probably more than he did, you wanted to make him happy, you needed for him to groan as he stretched your mouth wide with his cock. Knowing what you wanted, he stayed silent, as if contemplating through the arousal you innocently were giving him. 

"Please Daddy.. I'll be good again, please.. let me, please… I’ll…” Pausing, your tongue nearly slobbered at his clear erected shaft poking at the leather of his pants, twitching at your sight. Ghostface hummed for a moment, then exhaled a gruff approval.

“Fine. I’ll allow it. Show me I can trust my little whore again.”

You were furiously nodding before he even finished his words. Hands moving to his pants, his cock sprung out as if trapped, and your astonished ogling stuck like glue. Swiftly your hands graced his knees, more than ready. A tug pulled you forcefully back, his hand at your hair shoving you away from his angry shaft. Arching, you met his masked features with a pout. 

"If I see you touching yourself one bit I’ll make sure you can’t sit straight for the whole fucking week, kay?” You nodded swiftly, impatient, truthfully unable to hear him through your arousal. You were quick to proceed the moment his grip lessened. He tightened it again and pulled back, and you grumbled instinctively, annoyed. 

“Watch it, you should be grateful I’m letting you even suck my cock after the shit you pulled.” His tone was still irritated and a saddened frown fell.

Nodding quietly, his grip lessened increasingly so, and you took this moment to finally, and so happily meet his thick arousal. God, he was tasty looking, and his dick was so large you could cum alone just by imagining it fully inside you. Your tongue licked at the vein prodding from the skin and the taste of him caused a pleased rumbling in your chest. Tongue licking hastily at the aroused member, you happily took him into your mouth. With his breathy grunt, your hips wiggled, excited, and you moved closer. 

His leather-covered fingertips momentarily tightened at your hair when you moaned deep into him. The arousal gave you a continuous drip of wetness from your heat that was craving to be touched. Desperately desiring to not displease him further, you forced your painfully needy fingers away from your sex and took it as an excuse to wrap them around his throbbing cock. You let them roam eagerly, and your tongue swirled around his tip.

The shape was entrancing, and your tongue studied it in sure detail. His heavy breaths were getting louder and this encouraged you once more to take him as deep as you probably could. You bobbed back and forth at a decent pace, allowing yourself to get into it as much as your limits could take you. The taste of him you could get more than used to. 

Staring at him, a blush scattered across your face. Meeting his gaze whilst doing such a dirty action felt so vulgar.. yet the desire of pleasing your alpha in such a way made happiness bloom in your cunt.

Ghostface was unreadable with his mask on, but the lustful scent seeped through a hole out of any sort of cover he had. Your gag reflex increased as his cock began to prod at your throat. You moved to pull away for a needed break, yet when you were just about to fully remove his cock from your mouth, his fingers placed on your scalp moved down and balled your hair into a tight fist. Suddenly he jolted your head forward and his cock hit the back of your throat. Your mouth took him wholly and despite your struggle, he breathed so beautifully that your body couldn’t help but wiggle in response. 

“Fuck doll-“You swirled your tongue around his cock as much as you could with such a size, and his heavy exhales shifted into a sharp hiss when you sucked at a sensitive vein. Your eyes gazed deeply into the mask’s eye holes, your tongue desperately working at him.

He pulled his head back with a grumble, his fingers applying even more pressure to your head. Eventually, it was like something in him snapped, and Ghostface impatiently shoved your mouth almost completely down his cock, and your throat instinctively attempted to expel him. Promptly, your head was pulled back, and before you could even take a breath, it was diving forward onto his needy cock.

 His breaths were short and staggering, deep and heavy, mixing in with only a few hardly audible grunts of approval. He was mercilessly bobbing your head back and forth, and you were moaning desperately, your hands tightening hopelessly at his legs as he fucked you furiously. Your tongue was attempting to make movements around him, but it was beyond difficult when he plunged your head down him even further. His hand occupied your head firmly, and your throat was being taken so very well that you could feel your angry cunt surge in jealousy at the lack of attention. 

One hand slowly began to snake down, you hoped not too obviously as he was surely too focused on fucking you at a furious pace. The sloppy pattern was beginning to make it hard for you to breathe. His cock was repeatedly jabbing at your throat, and when he pulled your head away for a slight second, you gave him a pleading gasp, begging for him to slow down.

Nothing changed, and you whined at the merciless pace. A groan of pleasure erupted. “Fuck... your mouth... is perfect.. for me princess.." He was grunting increasingly through his heaves, and you peered at him complacently, eyelids widening at the burning, at the gnaw in your jaw, and the gag in your throat. 

Your fingers moved to the pool of your streaming arousal that dripped down your inner thighs. Despite the intensity, you could cum swiftly from him taking your throat in such a way… Your needy pussy throbbed when he sucked in a breath and shoved you down even harsher than before.

Sneaking into your drenched panties, you slowly moved around your clit, reacting with a sudden moan at the instantaneous pleasure. Promptly your head was pulled back, his fingers tightening in such a way that you were sure he could break you. Regardless you finally took this moment to pant and cough out as much as you could. 

"What did I fucking say?" Voice angry, he exhaled roughly, and you could tell he was just at the brink of climax and you ruined it. Swiftly your fingers pulled away, and you glanced at him with wide eyes, ashamed. Opening your mouth to defend, he rammed his cock into your mouth completely, and before he even gave you a chance to adjust, he pulled back.

"You... don’t.. fucking..” His words were emphasized by a repeated punctuated thrust back into your throat and then out. “..listen... do you.. omega?" Ghostface was now tugging you forward onto his shaft as swiftly as you thought possible. The man’s breaths were speeding up, irritated, yet so on the verge of cumming. 

Instantaneously, he jolted to an abrupt stop and he jerks your lips to circle the end of his cock. His balled-up strong fist held you there so tightly, you felt an impossibly warm stream of cum forcefully spew down your throat. You coughed into him, not expecting such a deep climax.

Attempting to poorly to be patient with your breaths, he held you there with a iron grip, hoping he might just let you go any second now. Yet with every passing second, you were struggling to take a singular inhale of air. The burn in your throat was becoming unbearable, and you moved, or at least attempted to. A sharp impatience surged in him, and he balled his fist tighter around your hair when you tried. 

The black dots in your vision were getting harder and harder to ignore, and the gagging in your throat didn't stop. You looked at him, pleading, a terrible aching in your jaw, and the stress in your unblinking eyes causing a stream of tears to pour down your cheeks. The man was breathing jagged and heavy, and his cock surely twitched at the sight of your struggle.

He pulled you away within a second, and in that second, you inhaled as much air as you could. You were panting out like an unflattering dog as small amounts of his cum drooled from your tongue. 

"Swallow it." His tone was sharp, and he was just about at his last hair of patience at the idea of you disobeying him one more time.

A genuine fear swelled, and you shrunk at hearing his tone. Lowering your head, you swiftly caught the escaping stream in your hand. Slobbering widely at your palm, you made sure every bit of his release would find its way back to where it belonged. The taste of his cum made your pussy burn in enjoyment. God, how badly you wanted to be fucked. 

The frightening glare lessened at your show, but it did nothing to aid in his anger towards you yet again. When you finished. your head bowed to the floor, heartbroken, terrified, and aroused. Ghostface suddenly stepped away from you, and you jolted to observe his every action.  "On your stomach,” he sat at your bed, his hand on his lap, signifying where.

Hesitating so clearly, he tilted his head in a way that gave you menacing shivers. You pressed your breasts nervously against the soft blankets, your stomach over his knees. Apprehensive of what the alpha was going to do, you secretly hoped for a claim or a large knot frankly.. but you unfortunately knew that wasn’t going to be the case. 

"Since you don't know how to listen and follow simple fucking commands.. you're going to count. Anytime you don't count, lose track, or say the wrong number, I’ll double it.. on second thought, I’ll triple it.”

You were vaguely confused, but still you nodded apprehensively.

His leather hand touched your bare ass, trailing down the shape. Regardless of the glove over his skin, it gave you a fire that ignited in your cunt once more. A powerful spank into your right cheek caused you to suddenly jolt forward, yelping out at the unexpected pain. His hand swapped to land a blow even harder at your left, and still unaware of the situation, you yelped, teeth-gritting naturally from the pain.

You hoped this was just a quick punishment.  

"I don't hear you counting princess." His iced voice broke you out of your daze as if somehow threatening that it could get worse.

"T-Two.." Stammering cautiously, the fear that it was going to be incorrectly quickened your pace.

You didn’t know why you even expected him to give you a break already, or at least a further explanation. It wasn’t too long after before his palm met your ass cheek like the crack of a whip. Nails curled into the sheets, the fabric piled into your hands desperately, and for some reason, you were still whimpering hopelessly like a bitch in heat. You wanted so clearly to beg, to cry, but you couldn’t focus on your thoughts and counting all at once.

"Th-Three.." WHAM. 

That one felt like hot metal seered into your skin from the way it burned so harshly after. Although in the moment you felt your head whirl, and it was all happening only a second after another, you were sure they were becoming increasingly powerful. Your behind must've already been a purplish red, and the relentless tingle emphasized that.

“Four." Tears stung at your eyes, and your throat made a choked whine when you received the fifth blow at your cheek, or was it six?  The numbers arrived so quickly and you were beginning to lose track of the way his hand met so brutally with your rear. Back and forth, back and forth, it was too fast and your head swirled confusedly. 

"S-Seven...?" 

"That was six." It was quiet only for a moment, and your fear increased horrifically. Nothing would have readied you for the way he in response to your blatant mistake, increased his strength tenfold in each promised tripled blow. The worst part was, he didn’t even switch between your left and right. He pauses, then starts again.

You couldn’t focus outside the stinging, and you wiggled in his grip, desiring to escape.

“Now it was seven." From that, he repeated the horrible action from before, and you attempted to push your head deep into the sheets, imagining a place where this wasn’t happening, and your alpha was just a sweet man. The echo of the next slap rang into the room, and you wailed at the spreading pain.

Tears finally grazed your cheeks, and your mind at this point could only notice the way the burn exponentially doubled with each slap.  Knuckles turning white from clenching, you again attempted to move to ease the blatant discomfort. His fingers then sunk so harshly into your back that surely he would have given you a bruise, and the next blow doubled in strength. 

“Move one more fucking time and you’re going to be counting to the hundreds.” You sniffled at his cruel words and limped into his hands, struggling to not resist and flail against him. There was a cruel rhythm to the blows, and you counted in your head, thinking that maybe if you focused solely on the numbers all the pain would disappear.

12…13…14…fuck..15? No.. 16… Fuzziness swirled, and although you were counting, you were beginning to lose track again. The stinging in each cheek brought you to reality, and the burn could only ease for what felt like half a second before he would smack at your opposing side.

“E-Eighteen…” At this point, you were heaving broken sobs that cracked from your throat.

He sang, “Seventeen,” a sadistic tone in his voice. He was apathetic and usually unreadable, but right now, a side of him was enjoying this so terribly. Biting at your lips hard, you braced for what was to come.

He tripled the spanks, and you were crying, quaking so helplessly that you would’ve maybe thought he’d give you mercy. “P-Please.. I can't... alpha it hurts..i-it hurts so bad..” Body quivering, you fisted your sheets, sniffling out unflattering sobs. 

"Whose fault is this?" Ghostface spoke sarcastically, chuckling evilly. You hiccuped a sob, a tear in your heart at his words. The disappointment and anger from your alpha made you intensely ashamed. The crack from his palm, the stinging at your skin, the uttered shameful forced spoken numbers on your behalf, did nothing to aid your emotions.

Maybe it was your submission, your tears, or your broken pleads that rung out, stammering “alpha.. alpha.. a-alpha, please,” that had him pause for just a moment longer than what you were used to. It was only a sweet few seconds of bliss before the blow at your left cheek ignited a swift remembrance of every number that you had to count. 

"If you just fucking listened like a good omega, this would've been over by now." His tone was as usual, cruel and sadistic. Surely something in him, the alpha harming his omega, did care, maybe if you could just hear it.. just a little bit then he’d stop. There was only so much you could do.

His hand struck you, forcing you out of such an imagination, vaguely uncaring that your skin was a hopelessly swelled red. Sobbing, you truly tried your hardest to keep track of every sting through the dizziness.

“Tw-Twentry three..” The crack of your unflattering voice yelped at its ending when he used his raw strength to let you know how wrong you were. Tensing at the apprehensive wait of another slap right after, it eased quickly, a welcomed pause showing you were indeed correct. He only allowed ever one breath of relief to fall, and even then it was just barely before he would give such a fate. 

“Twenty-six…” By this number, you were sure it would've concluded, you were sure that it was now beginning to get too high to be thought of as a normal punishment. Another strike proved this very wrong, and you yelped, fear coursing through you.

“Please.. no more alpha.. please.. I-I’m sorry… I-I promise… I-I promise I’ll listen.. p-please stop... The pain in your rear was becoming so unbearable you couldn’t care less about how pathetic your pleading was becoming.

“Oh? Now you’ll listen? It only took 30+ spanks.” Ghostface enjoyed this all too well, you were sure he did. He paused for a moment. Not out of mercy, only to watch closely as you whined into the sheets, body quivering through the throbbing heat. Where exactly? You didn’t quite know. 

“Tell you what bratty girl. If you can get to 35 without messing up once, I’ll stop for tonight.” For tonight? Your heart raced at the implication, but you couldn’t think much about it before a crack of his palm hit your ass, and you screamed out “T-twenty-eight!” As apprehensively as possible. You were focusing so hard on each spank, teeth nibbling at your cheeks so much that you only slightly drowned out the terrible pain. The excitement of its closure only drew you in further. 

31… 32….  You were getting terribly anxious. 33…. It was so close, almost there. 34… “Thirty-five!” You nearly screamed out, expecting it to finally all be over.

“Ah ah ah- 34. Not 35.” Perking your head up, you swiftly rotated to him as much as you possibly could, tears brimming in your eyes.

“What?! No-No no no, I.. I.. please.. a-alpha.. please,” the sobs threatened to escape at the thought of starting all over, fear chilling your body. You were sure you counted correctly, this… this couldn’t be possible. You couldn’t go through god knows how many more.

You could see his empty eye sockets, his emotionless mask turning to you, and it felt like a pin could audibly drop in the silence before you heard him laugh hard, meaner than ever. It lasted too long, to the point where you confusedly sputtered a “what..?” 

“Look at you, so hopeless and innocent, so scared. I’m sure it hurt your little brain to think that hard on counting, didn’t it?” He patted at your ass playfully. This ignited a burn and you jutted against him with a hiss, a sizzling heat between your legs. Did this mean you weren’t going to receive extra punishment?

“I-I.. don’t get it..” You admitted, and he laughed.

“Of course you don’t. I just wanted to see your cute little reaction.” Your soft surprised “oh” didn’t last for very long as he began to rub your ass cheeks so gently, it almost scared you how quickly his gestures could go from cruel to sweet in just a few seconds.

The soft caressing did ignite a fresh pain now and then, and there were still past tears stained on your face, your eyes blown out fearfully, pussy beneath the red of your cheeks that was throbbing so. It hurt, it hurt so badly, but there was something within you that wanted him so bad you could die.

He rubbed at your rear in such ways that made you tremble. It ignited a comfort in the painful ache, and you heaved out shaky breaths. Whimpering, some part of you was unsure as to why you were even calling out to him after such a scene, but god you wanted your alpha so bad.

The tenderness muffled into soft spikes of discomfort, and with his glove touching it so nicely, the searing dimmed out rather quickly, the throbbing of your aroused cunt almost subduing it forcefully. You moaned, writhing against his hand that teasingly brushed over your sex. “A-Alpha..”

"Hm?" He played dumb.

You felt truthfully happy he didn’t see how embarrassingly you were jutting against his hand, begging for friction. Meanwhile in reality he was biting back another mean laugh.

Ghostface’s action ceased completely, and you pouted, the omega within you about to scream out for his knot. His hand met with your ass abruptly and you squeaked, pushing against him.

“Ow! A-Alp- ooh… alpha..” moans of pain turned lovingly as his two fingers dug deep into your cunt.

“Surprise, my little whore all wet for me after I spanked her senseless.” Circling your hips, he curled his fingers and you screamed, begging aimlessly when he began to spear you repeatedly. The wetness spilled over his thigh, and he cussed out. “Shit omega. You’re going to make me want to fuck this pussy of yours if you keep dripping on me like this.”

You nodded as swiftly as you could. “Yes-yes do that, please.. alpha- please-“ he spanked your ass and you yelped, quieting with the bite of your lips.

“Shut up.” It wasn’t as ice cold as his words before, but regardless you whimpered at his sudden demand, and you quietly wiggled to the way his fingers rammed themselves up to a hilt in your aching sex.

You squeezed him tighter than ever, thinking of all the things he’d do to you, of how you might just sit on his face and grind your way to completion. Grunting in approval, he gave your pussy a soft slap, and you threw your head back, moaning loud. The climax was beginning to rise, you could feel it, you were so close, and you were riding, grinding on his fingers hard, gargled pleas falling from your lips. 

“Oh, Ghostface.. oh.. oh god.. ah- wait!” Crying out, his fingers left you completely the moment your quivering release began. The nerves settled sharply, so quickly that your throat nearly choked out a sob.

“And fuck, you taste delicious too,” he breathed out gruffly, and you rotated to him, hoping he had removed his mask. Nothing, just his licked clean fingers, and a blush burned at your cheeks. He gazed at your helpless quivering body, and it looked as if he was contemplating for a moment. 

“Fuck omega,” he spoke lowly, as if only to himself. As if he wasn’t at all planning on fucking you raw, but the powerful alpha in him was significantly growing at seeing your handprinted ass, and the way your tasty hole was clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled. The dull ache in your rear that you were wiggling, caused a surge of slick to escape in slow streams from your sex and fuck it looked so delicious, he could clean you up within a minute. 

“Face down, ass up. Don’t even think about looking.” Ghostface’s words came out more rushed, almost on the verge of madness, yet you didn’t question him, he’d just give you another brutal spanking If you disobeyed.

Springing up off his lap promptly, you snuck a look, excitement surging through you, your face pushing into the soft covers. Shutting your eyes tightly, your booty instinctively shimmied to his sight, more than ready for what might come. The position spread your throbbing wet pussy wide to his view perfectly. 

His leather fingers rubbed at your needy clit like he was just getting a feel for it. Shaking with whines, your deprived muffled moans absorbed into your sheets. Suddenly a warm tongue dragged up your cunt so slowly it nearly caused you to break your restraint. Hands tightening around your covers, you moaned out loud as his tongue ran up your wet thighs, drinking in every little bit of arousal you had.

The hot breaths against your sex had you shaking and yelping in desire. The thought of your alpha enjoying your taste, made you wiggle into him harder, and you wished more than anything you could grab his locks and sink him deeper. The pace instantly increased, and he began wildly lapping you up, his thumb shifting to rub swift circles around your clit. Two fingers pushed deep into your tightening hole again, and with this, you broke out into quivering moans. 

You strived to shout out to him desperately and urge him to continue, yet the barely holding of your self-restraint made it impossibly difficult. His fingers curled deep alongside his pace, and his tongue circled so amazingly well at your juices, It wasn’t too long before you gave into pleasure, and ripped your head from the sheets. Eyelids scrunched tightly, afraid they might just burst open and disobey his rules.

The thumb that swirled at your clit stopped, and that hand met with your bruised ass. Jolting, a squeal left you, and his fingers shoved deep into your walls. The hold on your eyelids was about to break, and you were panting, desperate.

“Face down omega, don’t make me tell you again.” Ghostface cracked at your red cheeks one more time, reinventing the forgotten pain.

Your head sunk begrudgingly into the comfort of your warm sheets, teeth biting at your lower lip in frustration. You could feel him smirk into you, a clear amusement in your desperate whining pleas. He knew you wouldn’t look, but oh did he love seeing you so torturously submit.

The sexiest breathy chuckle vibrated at your aching hole, and you shivered, fingers digging into the sheets in order to not rip yourself away again. The coiling climax surrounding your pussy had you tightening hard around him, and his tongue moved to your clit now, licking up and down the throbbing sex. This had you going crazy, and you couldn’t help but move your head just a little. 

“I-I’m.. A-Alpha“

Scissoring, his fingers started scissoring inside you, and you convulsed, just about to lose your restraint, the coiling getting stronger and stronger. He was relishing in your flavor, his greedy tongue lapping deeper into your sex, and he purred into you.

That broke you, and your orgasm quickly sped up to the way his fingers were pulsing deep in your fluttering walls, thrusting, scissoring so deep you screamed. 

“That’s it, babygirl, fucking break for me.” Nails nearly ripping at your thin bed cover, you pushed only your chin out, moaning so loudly you couldn’t even hear the way he was laughing at you, but you sure as hell felt it. 

It almost wasn’t possible how far he could go, and he stopped at an absolute hilt inside of you, his knuckles surely deep into your cunt. His tongue greedily worked at your high.

Trembling, the climax started settling, and your eyes were nearly rolling to the back of your head as he continues the quick movements of his tongue. You jutted into him, body so tensed from the quivering release, it felt like you couldn’t even move anymore. You limped weakly, only softly grinding into his never-ending torture. Tears threatened your orbs, and you came so hard, the sensitivity of your nerves made it so that you were shaking into him, desperate to pause.

“D-Daddy.. t-too much… c-cant” He opened his fingers wide, making you scream out again, a slight pain beside it. Too overstimulated, it was too much, and you could hardly think.

His fingers suddenly thrust into you so fast your desperate cunt quivered, a second climax started rushing in too quickly, You screamed, unable to ready yourself for such a painful yet sweet release. Grinding against him hard, he lapped it up like it was his last meal, and he pulled your ass deeper into him, your legs weakly shaking.  

He didn’t stop, and at this point your head dropped, fingers weightless at the loss of strength. You were twitching, and your cunt cried out as he ate up every little stream of cum that dripped. Whispers left your lips, his name at the tip of your tongue, jumbled gargles making their way out. Your leg moved to push your body away to sway him from his further abuse.

He growled deep, sending a jolt up your spine. Fingers tightened at your burning ass, and you were whining in pain, his tongue circling you so quickly still it felt like it would never end. 

Low growls were coming from his throat, and nothing encouraged him to pause for your exhaustion. You were still moaning out hopelessly, your slumped form only upright because of his firm hands.

Eventually, his fingers slowly pulled away from your cunt that was still attempting so dearly to suck him in. The sound was obscene, vulgar, and he gave a few slaps to your cunt. You whimpered, jumping to each. One last lick was given to your trembling clit, and he unexpectedly spanked your right ass again.

Desperate pleas were falling from your lips, tears streaming down your cheeks. Ghostface breathed out a chuckle, his hand now gently rubbing up and down your numb pussy.  

“What a good fucking omega, so delicious and all for me.” His hand pat at your ass, and you hissed at the way it seared. Butterflies flew in your stomach, your heart skipping a beat. Happiness still enveloped you through your exhaustion, happy that he enjoyed you so well, and that he was proud of you.

The idea of his features sent excitement through you, but you didn’t look even if you wanted nothing more.

Your alpha was finally happy with you.

A soft whispered moan escaped, the thought of this sending you to a sweet sleep while he continued rubbing your pussy so well.

Before you passed out, you could faintly hear him snickering as three fingers entered your exhausted walls. 

[cinnamonest]

Thinking about terrible terrible boys who use Darling’s social anxiety against themselves

Kaveh who keeps you home because the world is just far too mean, just look at his roommate if you need any reminder. It’s putting himself out there that resulted in his debt, it’s the outside that caused you hurt don’t ever forget. It’s fine, he’ll lavish you enough to fill all you need, you really don’t need any other contact than himself!… and the forced proximity of Alhaitham grrr.

Ayato who keeps bringing you in important social events just to see you cling to him. He doesn’t teach you any etiquette, so you never know what’s socially unacceptable. You stand so close to him, trembling, your voice barely louder than a whisper. It serves as a reminder, see how bad the world is? All of them are vile people. If you run away, who’s to say you won’t end up with someone worse than him? (It’s terrible, how you keep waking these sadistic urges in him. He’s a good man with lots of self restraint but still a man.)

Wriothesley who got you locked up in his office. You complain about boredom, about his behaviour, but he only swat your worries away. He’s not worried about you ever running off, this is an underground prison. Criminals are the only residents, and god knows how many would have enough self control to keep their hands off if he’s not with you. Besides you’ve been here for so long, you have no place on the surface anymore. What would you do, go cry to Neuvillette? Pfff yeah, right. Try saying hello to Clorinde without trembling first.

Yes yes I am FOR this idea, also consider: Kaeya is the top tier candidate for it. He’s already in the top tier of Manipulative Bastardry, but it gets so much worse if he finds a weakness to exploit — and he’s great at sensing those.

He doesn’t mind that you’re introverted. However, he doesn’t just use the situations as opportunities to give you affirmation as a means of comforting you and coaxing you into bonding with him, no, he stoops so much lower than that. Outright taking advantage of it for his own benefit, ensuring he can use every tactic at his disposal to get whatever he wants... except "whatever he wants" actually just tends to be one consistent thing.

In the early stages, where he can pretend he doesn’t know you well enough to be able to feign ignorance to how much it would exhaust you, he makes sure to plan long public outings, watching as your energy quickly drains until you can’t bear another second in the public atmosphere and all but beg him to return home.

This gives him the opportunity to act disappointed (when in reality, he’s overjoyed it’s playing out exactly as planned) — aw, and here he had so many more things he wanted to show you before the night was over, but no worries, it’s fine… no no, it’s fine, really… and now that you’re all nice and feeling guilty, well, that will just make it much easier to coax you into giving him something to compensate for the disappointment you’ve caused once you’re behind closed doors. Maybe you’ll even volunteer it yourself.

But even later on, once he can no longer put on an act of not knowing how easily drained you are, he can still use it against you. Don’t worry, he knows you’re shy and easily tired out, you two can just stay at home tonight… besides, there’s plenty of fun things you can do alone at home, right…? Surely you’ll be able to think of something.

He, however, stoops even lower still, because he’s also willing to exploit your paranoias and insecurities, even if it means hurting you a bit. Part of the reason why you’re so socially withdrawn, he learns, is that you’re afraid of how others perceive you — I’m just annoying them, they all secretly hate me, you say, everyone thinks I’m weird…

And he… doesn’t rush to correct you or anything. Just shrugs.

Ah, who cares what they think? You already have someone who appreciates you as you are, you know.

Not denying it. If anything, it’s a subtle confirmation… he may even throw in a blatant —

Well, sure, they might feel that way, but I don’t. That’s good enough, isn't it? What do you need their attention for...?

— to really drive the point home, and throw in a bit of accusation and guilt for good measure. He likes hearing you immediately panic and stumble over your words as you reassure him that you don't need anyone else... it's adorable, and the ego boost is euphoric.

Honestly, you’re too gullible for your own good, so precious, so cute in how you fall for it so perfectly, effortless on his part. You don’t even hide your reaction in your expression, so transparent and vulnerable, the way your eyes widen with shock and you hang your head and your eyes water, giving him the perfectly opportunity to comfort you and hold you close and assure you it’s okay, they don’t matter, screw them anyway, and so on.

You’re so sweet, so pure. So much so that you almost, almost actually make him feel bad about it. How impressive.