#my brain is just trying to escape containment i think

[phantomqueen]

frequent headaches? #justgirlythings

[soliusss]

Sorrrry guys the malevolent fixation is slowly winning I had the upper hand for like a month but it’s starting to win I can’t fucking. Fight it. Not strong enough

[hyuckiefluff]

may i request a jaemin x femreader where he’s just fucking her dumb and she’s trying to say that her family is downstairs or in the living room? if you’re comfortable with it ofc !!

a/n: first of all THANK YOU SO MUCH for requesting! i would’ve probably disappeared for another two months if it weren’t for this lol! i didn’t know if you wanted something short and sweet or for me to go all out but hopefully you like this! i had fun writing it and it made me revisit my jaemin brain rot so yeaa

for a bit of context, i decided to write this as if jaem and fem!reader are already in a relationship and jaem is the picture of charm and good manners and he could never do anything wrong in his in-laws' eyes but he’s secretly a freak lol (also didn’t wanna make it too long so things move a bit fast)

wc: 1.7k ish

content: just pure smut tbh

warnings: cursing, oral sex and fingering (fem receiving), creampie, loud sex, marking, usage of pet names like princess and pretty girl, boob grabbing

m list

When Jaemin walked into your place your parents welcomed him grinning like they hit the jackpot with their son in law. Your mom invited him to stay for dinner, and your dad gave him a solid friendly pat on the back. But his mind was upstairs, where you remained clueless about his arrival, thinking he was off to visit some relatives.

When he walks into your room, you’re lying on your stomach with your headphones on and wearing nothing but your panties and one of his oversized shirts. The whole scene feels like the start of one of his wet dreams, and he's seriously struggling not to pounce on you. Instead, he sneaks up from behind and gently slips the headphones off. You're not the jumpy type, so you casually turn your head, half-expecting it was your mom barging in. But when you see Jaemin smiling at you, your whole demeanor changes. You don't waste a second, practically wrapping yourself around your boyfriend. He lets out a deep, rumbling laugh that vibrates through you. 

“Missed me, princess?” you responded by kissing his lips, you only meant to give him a soft peck, but he couldn’t contain himself any longer so in no time he had you flush against the mattress and his warm body.

His hands immediately found their way inside your shirt, a delicious moan coming out of him when he felt you weren’t wearing a bra. He would go crazy if he didn’t have you right now, but he also wanted to make you feel good. He pulled away from you slowly, biting your lower lip in the process. Then he started crawling down your body, not missing the way you tensed up as he positioned his face right in front of your sensitive area.

You knew where this was going but you had to remind yourself that you two weren’t alone.

“Jaem… my parents are-…” your words were interrupted as his mouth attached to your core over your panties. The smell and taste of you was driving him feral and he couldn’t bother to even remove the thin piece of clothing. All you could do was gasp and pull his hair.

“Be good for your boyfriend that missed you so much…” he coaxed, his nose nuzzling against you. Your thighs instinctively closed around his head “Don’t hold back, let me hear how pretty you sound”  his warm breath sent shivers racing across your skin. He continued sucking and kitten-licking your pussy, the insistent way in which his tongue was pushing against your entrance in a teasing manner threatening to push you over the edge. He groaned when he felt you weakly push his head away.

In one fluid motion, he discarded your panties, a low whistle escaping him as he saw how they clung to your slickness. His dick twitched uncomfortably in his sweatpants. "Fucking mine," he growled softly before diving between your folds. His tongue and lips latched on your clit like a magnet, producing a chorus of wet sounds that were nothing short of vulgar. 

Despite your efforts to restrain yourself and keep quiet, as soon as he added a finger you were reduced to a whimpering mess. You brought a hand to your mouth, teeth sinking in to stifle the noises, but Jaemin didn’t like that. He pulled away and the sight of his glistening lips coated with your essence caused you to involuntarily tighten around nothing.

"I said..." His voice dipped several tones and his pupils dilated, darkening his eyes in an almost eerie manner "Let me hear you," he demanded. 

"Please… Jaem, my parents are downstairs," you gasped, breathless. He looked unamused by your pleas but still seemed to be contemplating something. 

Then suddenly, he withdrew from you entirely. You thought he would listen to you, so it took you by surprise when instead he discarded his sweatpants and boxers. His erection sprung free in a somewhat comical way. The tip was flushed with urgency, the veins and girth caused you to whimper. Your mouth watered with the desire to take him into your mouth, but Jaemin had different intentions.

"Then let's give 'em a show, princess," he grinned, planting a kiss on your inner thigh before pulling your legs up and positioning himself between them.

He entered you slowly and you couldn't help but whimper at the stretch. His lips curled up at the sounds you were making, knowing it took this little to make you lose all restraint was amusing him more than he cared to admit. He bottomed out right away, giving you no time to adjust. Though he was trying to keep it together, he couldn’t help but let out a string of guttural moans whenever you clenched around his dick. Desperation drove his hips to meet yours with sharp, urgent movements.

"So good for me," he murmured, gaze fixed on the way your pussy took him so well. Biting his lip, he looked up at your face contorted with pleasure. Your flushed appearance, eyes nearly shut, and lips subject to the mercy of your teeth. This is how you looked prettiest to him.

He hiked up your shirt, granting himself an unobstructed view of your boobs. He reached his hand to your right breast and caressed the soft skin there, his fingers toying with your hardened nipple. He relished your reactions to his every touch, loving the way you tried so hard not to be loud.

“Jaem-…fuck-… me," you moaned, his name coming out as a blur amidst a string of curses and cries.

"I am, baby," he quipped, though the strain in his voice betrayed the struggle to keep his composure. The way your walls clenched around him was driving him wild. The grip of his other hand tightened on your hips, urgency escalating as he thrust into you with an almost feral rhythm.

The sound of your skins slapping was obscene and it resonated throughout your room. If your parents walked by your door they would definitely hear and know what you two were up to. You wondered what would happen if they did, would they stop allowing Jaemin to come into your room. Would their trust for him vanish? Those questions made you anxious but the boy didn’t seem to care. And you were soon to follow him, because the way he was fucking you right now was too good.

He lifted your leg higher, adjusting his hips to hit that sweet spot he knew you liked. Your eyes involuntarily rolled back as he plunged deeper into you like this. He was so familiar with your body, knowing exactly where to touch to unravel you. A smirk played on his lips as he tenderly caressed your hips, a stark contrast to the rough way he was thrusting into you.

"You drive me so fucking crazy," he groaned, his rhythm faltering slightly as he leaned in for a messy kiss. Your mouths met in a fervent dance, his tongue swirling around yours, teeth grazing against each other's lips. He devoured every sound that escaped your lips.

Just as you were catching your breath, he abruptly increased his pace, catching you off guard and causing a loud moan to erupt from you, the sudden change overwhelming your senses.

“There we go, that’s my pretty girl” he murmured against your jaw, leaving a wet trail from there to your neck where he started sucking and marking you. Only in places that he knew you would be able to cover. After all, he knew you had to keep up the innocent facade with your parents.

Oh, if only they knew you let your boyfriend fuck you every day under their roof.

“Jaemin! Fuck!” He sneaked a hand down to where your bodies were connected and focused on your neglected clit. His fingers and the insistent thrusts of his hips obliterated any caution you had, leaving you too overstimulated to care about your parents overhearing.

But then a call from downstairs brought reality crashing back in “Dinner’s ready, kids! Come down!”

Jaemin's movements halted mid thrust, his eyes flashing with a mixture of surprise and panic, mirroring the same emotions that played across your face. You gave his arm a quick slap, the unspoken message in your eyes was clear: pull out, now. Yet, your body had other plans, clenching involuntarily around him as if begging for more, and he shut his eyes tight. You felt way too good to stop now.

“We’ll be right down!” He yelled, and instead of pulling out he picked you up, and switched positions. He knew riding him would make you come fast.

From his seated position, he looked up at you through his long lashes, a silent plea in his gaze. It didn't take much for your resolve to crumble. Your hands settled on his shoulders, grasping onto the firm sinews of his muscles as he wrapped his arms around you. As soon as you started moving, you saw him slowly lose his composure. This angle made each thrust reach deeper within you, “How the fuck do you… feel so good, hm-.... every time,” your eyes fluttered open and you caught a glimpse of the tension etching his brow and the way his teeth clamped onto his lower lip. He was getting closer to his limit, just as much as you were.

“You’re gonna be the end of me,” you breathe out, fingers tracing along his cheek. All he can manage is a throaty moan, too lost in the sensation of being this deep inside you to form coherent words.

“I’m-…I’m close”” he whimpered, half lidded eyes locking onto yours. Your rhythm starts to stumble a bit, your pace getting uneven as you get close to your orgasm too. He caught onto this quickly grabbing your hips to guide your moves, and every time your hips met, the sounds resonated through the whole room.

A couple more thrusts, and you're there– caught in the riptide of an orgasm that slams into you so hard that tears gather at the corners of your eyes. Jaemin's not far behind, a few more sloppy thrusts and he's right there with you. The feeling of his cum filling you and your walls clenching around as he emptied himself inside you, it was a sticky mess, but he fucking loved it.

“C’mon, let’s not make your mom wait.” He said after catching his breath, giving your hips a slight pat.

“Jaemin… I swear if they heard…” 

“Yeah, yeah… You know they love me too much to think I would ever soil their pretty daughter like that.” He winked and kissed you one more time.

ps: feel free to request more!

[slowlymyavenue]

THE BIMBO BOUNCE

As the title suggests, this will be a bit of a departure from my usual fare.

I am, as always, very interested in feedback on this piece (and any other.)

Alliteration is a useful hypnotic tool. It gives sentences a bit of extra potency, makes mantras easier to remember, and improves the lifespan of a suggestion pretty considerably. That's the operating theory, anyway. Shall we explore?

Bounce for me; that's simple enough to start things off.

Bouncing your body makes your brain bubbly.

The phrase sticks, somehow, even though it sounds a little silly. Something seems to make it linger in your head. It has a unique feel to it, a quality you can't quite put your finger on. The syllables seem to echo: bouncing your body makes your brain bubbly.

But how does a bubbly brain behave? Like a bubble, as you'd expect, with something creating a volume of empty space inside while thoughts slide smoothly across the expanding surface, oily and slick. At first, it feels like your thoughts have more area across which to spread. Your thoughts shift slightly, glistening and growing ever more thin. At least, until the bubble pops.

Bouncing your body makes your brain bubbly.

Bubbly brains are bound to burst.

And burst it must. Bubbles are ephemeral entities, aren't they? It's alright; you'll scarcely notice. When the bubble pops, your thoughts that are currently floating on the surface will splash to the floor. The empty space inside will rush rapidly outward, turning you into a bit of an airhead. Seems fitting, doesn't it?

Bursting bubbly brains blow pink

Bounce, and pop.

You'll feel the splash like a sudden surge of lust and arousal coursing through your body. The rush of air inside your head might cause you to get light-headed, so you'll spread your legs to steady yourself. Of course that's what you're doing, isn't it? Steadying yourself, not putting yourself on display. Right.

Bouncing your body makes your brain bubbly.

Bubbly brains are bound to burst.

Burst bubbly brains blew pink

Bimbos brainlessly bounce.

As you begin to bounce to a silent rhythm, it occurs to you that some bubbles have a kaleidoscopic sheen when you look at them, but others have a very solid color within. Your brain-bubble was bubblegum pink, now that you think about it.

Well, as much as you can presently think about anything. That pop did more than just fill your head with empty air. You can feel your intelligence leaking into the space around you, escaping...your absent brain can't contain it any longer.

Bimbos bounce their brains away.

If your brain was still intact, you might think to stop bouncing so you'd be better able to think. But your brain exploded in a flash of pink and wet, and now you're as blank as a bouncing bimbo should be. You're able to understand my words out of some remnant of intuition, but if you pause to try and think them through, everything just goes pink and pops again.

Blank bimbos bounce brainlessly

That seems sensible enough, especially since bouncing feels pretty good. The splash of wet pink thoughts from the pop made your body more sensitive, perhaps by providing you with better things on which to focus. You certainly feel blank, and you are bouncing. Are you a bimbo, though?

Bouncing brainwashes blank bimbos

A side effect of the bubbly brain from before is that you're finding all of this pretty amusing. Certain bits of sentences make you want to giggle and smile, even when you can barely understand them. Might've let too much of your intelligence leak away, but it's all just so silly, isn't it?

Brainwashed blank bimbos bounce

If you were a bimbo, would you be able to tell? Would you find the situation you're in far more amusing than you should? Would your body be becoming progressively more sensitive as your empty head adjusts to having no thoughts to contain and feeds all that focus to your hungry nerves? Would the bouncing be this arousing all by itself?

That depends primarily on what sort of bimbo you've become, but the answer should be clear by now. Each bounce produces a wave of pleasure, each wave pushes more of the remnants of your brains into the air. The less brains left in your head, the more you smile and giggle. The giggles produce flashes of pink that remind you how very silly and simple this is. All you did was bounce.

Bouncing blank bubbly bimbos are brainwashed

Bounces can take all sorts of forms. You can bounce bits of your body with your hands, bounce up and down in a chair, bounce with the aid of the springs below the bed...all to the same end. Everything is turning pink and wet and silly for you.

This leaves you with only two options: You could let yourself settle, riding the high of the blank bubbly brainwashed bimbo until your brain somewhat reluctantly returns to your head. I won't stop you, you'd simply wake after a few minutes of coming back down.

Or the blank bouncing brainwashed bimbo could shift the energy from bouncing just a little and satisfy that lust your body is feeling. The only real hazard is that your head is already full of air, and cumming your brains out when they've already mostly evaporated could leave you pretty dumb before it's all said and done.

But you've already made a choice, or it's already been made for you. My words could be passing by almost invisibly as the bouncing subsides, or you may already be excitedly picking a toy to bounce on or a rhythm to use while you stroke yourself senseless.

Either way, everything will fade into a yummy pink haze before much longer. I wonder how much bimbo brain you'd need to bounce away before the condition became a bit stuck...

Bouncing your body makes your brain bubbly

Bubbly brains are bound to burst

Burst bubbly brains blow pink bubbles

Blank brainless bimbos bounce

Bouncing brainwashes blank bimbos

Blank bouncing bimbos are brainwashed

Brainwashed blank bimbos bounce

Go on, up and down, bouncing yourself all brainless and bubbly. You'll drift awake awhile after you've finished following my instructions.

Do let me know how silly, brainless, or dumb you felt...if you are comfortable expressing it, of course.

A message:

Hello yes I’m back, I took a break but now I’m here, please follow reblog and share, dms are open x

[citrusandcyanide]

Can't Lose You | L.G.

Pairing: Lip Gallagher x f!reader

an. This is my first fic since switching back to this blog and it's also my first Lip fic. I'm So happy to be writing again :,) . This idea won the poll but I'm still cooking up the rest. This will probably be 2-3 parts long. First part is mostly just background, but still got some angst. Would love feedback <3

Synopsis. College decisions are being sent out. Lip doesn't want to go to college unlike his best friend who has her mind set on leaving Chicago and her feelings for Lip behind.

words. 3k

Warnings. Unrequited feelings. angst, smoking, drinking, and angry lip.

Part 2 Part 3 (final)

“I got in,” Lip said standing in the doorway of his best friend's bedroom. You were laying on your bed with a book in your hand when he appeared suddenly in your room. Sitting up, you put the book down and turned towards the door. You gave Lip a confused look as he walks towards you. He sits on the bed beside you before continuing. “MIT. I got in.” 

“Mandy’s application really worked huh?” You were shocked. The situation was almost amusing. Mandy had submitted five college applications in his name. She told you before submitting them, even going as far as asking you to look over them to make sure they were good. Of course when you went to tell her the plagiarism was evident, she cursed you out and left offended. It was funny that one of them worked, but part of you was genuinely shocked. This meant an escape for Lip. A real chance of leaving Chicago and the south side behind, to move on and up. You were genuinely happy, excited even. Lip, on the other hand, didn’t look excited. It was clear by his expression that he was shocked, maybe even a little proud. But he also seemed unimpressed by the prospect of what this meant for his future. 

“You going?” You asked, hopeful that the answer would be yes. You contained your excitement, seeing that he was still unsure if this was good news. 

“Nah. You know I hate the Red Socks” Lip replied, earning a scoff from you. 

“That’s bullshit,” you replied, smacking him on the arm with the book you were reading. “Well, what about the others? Mandy said she was applying to five.” 

“Got three rejections, but uh, UChicago let me in,” He laid back on the bed, using his arm to prop him up. “And I’ve been thinking of all the shit you said about College being important and all.” 

“And?” you said, now looking down at him. You were hoping he would say he was going. Lip was one of the smartest people you know, but also the dumbest. He had an amazing brain but had no clue how to use it sometimes. It was the cause of the biggest tension in your friendship. You were just as smart as Lip, but it didn’t come so easy to you. You were a hard worker, but only because you had to be. It was the only way you saw yourself surviving. To get into college meant an escape from the Southside life and struggles. It was important to you. Lip knew it. He had to listen for the last two years as you stressed out over formulating the applications. He also had to witness a few panic attacks caused by it. College stood on an almost unreachable pedestal, but nothing could convince you you couldn’t reach it. 

You tried your hardest to convince Lip to at least try for the dream, but he wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t try. And yet the opportunity still was handed to him on a silver platter, like everything good in his life. Here he was, being handed salvation, and he was still going to deny it. A part of you was angry at that, but it was useless being frustrated with him. 

You couldn’t help but think about Mandy. If he really was considering going to college, it wouldn’t be because of you. It was because of Mandy. Lip may be your best friend, but Mandy has had all his attention recently. You told him to apply to college. Lip refused. Mandy applied for him and now he listens. 

It just added to how much you wanted to leave. Everytime you saw Mandy, you had to endure listening to her talk about Lip. The two of you were friends of course. You were thrilled to see her happy, but it still stung seeing her get to Lip instead of you. Lip, the boy down the street, your best friend since your parents moved in when you were young. The boy who stuck by your side through elementary and middle school when it was difficult to make other friends. The boy who took your first kiss in front of the whole school when other girls teased you for not having it yet. During middle school dances, the one who would sit on the bleachers with you instead of dancing. Who you’d spend all your time with. The one who’d sneak you out of your house late at night to smoke joints under the L. The boy you couldn’t help but love. 

He knew it, and you knew he did. It became all too obvious in high school. Lip had started dating girls fairly quickly. He’d spend more nights busy with other girls. It interrupted the time you got to spend together. You understood he had needs and you weren’t exactly wanting to become fuck buddies. So you let it be, trying to ignore the jealous pit in your stomach. 

It all boiled up until one day near the end of sophomore year. The two of you had made plans to hang out at his house, order some food and get high. When you got there, he wasn’t home. Ian and Fiona said they didn’t know where he was. You decided to wait awhile. Debbie had recruited you to play with dolls. When he got back, you had helped yourself to a bag of chips and a soda. He wasn’t alone. A girl you recognized from physics class was strung on his arm. He freezed when he made eye contact with you from your position on the couch. You heard him mutter “shit” under his breath. Your gaze shifted between the girl and Lip. You were beyond irritated, but you refused to show it. Instead you turned your head to the tv. 

“You gonna introduce us, Lip?” You asked, breaking the silence. He didn’t reply. The girl did instead. 

“Um, I’m Jenny… we know eachother from class,” Her tone was awkward, but you could tell she was genuinely trying to be nice. There was a small giggle when she spoke “I’m Lips girlfriend now.” 

Your head shot back up to look at Lip. Your eyes were wide. He didn’t tell you anything about this. He hadn’t even mentioned her to you before, let alone give you a heads up that he was gonna ditch you to spend time with her. Lip avoided your eyes. You were boiling now and Lip could feel it radiating off of you. 

“You could have told me you were bringing company. I would have brought more weed,” You said, the bitterness clearly evident in your tone. 

“Gross. I don’t smoke,” Jenny replied disgusted. You raised your eyebrows and nodded. 

“Real keeper, Lip,” You gave him a sarcastic smile. He scoffed.

“Just go home, kid. We’ll talk tomorrow, Okay?” Lip said before telling Jenny to go up the stairs to his room. You didn’t move from the couch. 

“No, I’ve been waiting here for hours. You could have at least given me a heads up that you were going to cancel. I could have gone home.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m telling you to do that now,” His voice had grown agitated. 

“What is up with you lately? We’ve barely seen eachother and the one day you suggest we actually hang out, you ditch me. Not cool, Gallagher.” 

“Give me a break,” He said running a hand through his hair. His leg was bounced anxiously. He kept looking back up the stairs to make sure Jenny was out of earshot. 

“Like that isn’t what I been doing,” You sat up to face him properly. “I’m trying to be understanding, but honestly I feel kind of neglected. We’re best friends, I think our friendship deserve a little effort put in to it, you know.” 

“Jesus, (Y/N). I’ve got a gorgeous girl waiting for me on my bed right now. Can this PLEASE wait till tomorrow?” Blood was starting to rush to his face. He wasn’t asking. He was ordering. It was like a hit to the chest, but it only fueled your anger.

“Could anything be more important to you than pussy, Lip,” You hissed. Your voice was getting louder with every sentence. “Certainly not your friends because you would have kept your dick in your pants for ONE fucking night to hang out with them.” 

“FUCK OFF, (Y/N),” He was fully yelling at this point. “It’s your issue for waiting so long. I can’t spend every day with you. You’re not the only person in my life. You don’t get to control how I spend my time! Fuck, you’re not my girlfriend. Stop expecting to be treated like you are.” 

“I am well-fucking-aware I’m not your girlfriend. You remind me every fucking day,” you screamed. Your vision blurred as tears began running down your face. You scowled at him. There was a moment of silence as you both realized what you said. Lip grew confused, his face contorted as he was trying to understand what was happening. Everything became dizzy. You took a deep breath and stepped back. You quickly gathered your stuff, wiping the tears away from your eyes. “Moments like these make wonder why I even want to be.” 

Lip was silent. He stared at the floor now. You waited for him to say something. Inside you were begging him to say something. Anything, to cut your embarrassment. He didn’t speak. So you left, wishing you had listened when he told you earlier. 

“God sometimes I really fucking hate you, Gallagher.”  

He showed up at your door the morning after to apologize. You both sat on your porch steps to talk. “She dumped me after you left. She, uh, heard how upset you were. Said something about ‘girls support girls’ and left.’” 

You laughed a little, but didn’t say anything. You were still really embarrassed about last night. An angry confession was not how you ever imagined Lip to find out about your crush. You let him speak. 

“Listen, I’m sorry for how I acted last night. How I’ve been acting. I didn’t mean to make you feel neglected,” Lip said, fiddling with the pack of cigarettes in his hand. You both were facing the house across the street, refusing to look at eachother. “And I’m sorry I blew you off. I take responsibility for that and promise I won’t do it again.” 

“Thank you,” You said quietly. This wasn’t your first fight with Lip. You’d have an argument, one of you would storm out, but by morning the other would always be waiting outside eachothers’ doors to apologize. This was just another one of those mornings. The difference was now he knew that you wished you were dating. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have said that… stuff.” 

“Oh what? About wanting to be my girlfriend?” Lip looked at you and smirked. He took a cig out the box and put it between his lips. You groaned and put your head in your hands. Part of you was relieved he could joke about it. A bigger part of you was mortified. 

“We can like erase that from our memories. Please,” You pleaded. “I really prefer it if we never bring it up again.” 

Lip nodded. He offered you the box. You took a cigarette and reached for the lighter in your back pocket before lighting it. Lip took the lighter from you and did the same. 

“You know I don’t think it’s a good idea,” He said after a moment of silence. You looked at him with a pained look on your face. You felt your chest tighten. “The dating thing. I don’t like the idea.” 

“Way to rip my heart out of my chest,” You scoffed a little. You turned your face away from him. You didn’t want to lie. You felt your heart break a little at your words. There you were still hoping a part of him would like the idea. You should have prepared yourself for the rejection. 

“I don’t mean it like that.” He was looking at you fully now. “You’re too good for me, (Y/L/N).”  

“We’re good the way we are now. I don’t want to ruin that. If we date, we’ll break up, and hate each other. It’ll never be the same. This is better. Safer,” He continued once you looked back at him. “In short… I can’t lose you.” 

With that, you never talked about it again. Your feelings never dissolved, but you also never did anything about them. The conversation left you with some hope he felt the same, even if it wasn’t as much as you liked him. He kept quiet too, respecting your feelings. He never joked about it again. He kept his promise and spent more time with you, all until Karen and Mandy. You stayed clear of Karen all together, not wanting to get messed up in her shit, but Mandy was your friend. You weren’t going to abandon her because she started dating your best friend. She didn’t know about your feelings. No one did except you and Lip. 

Lip was the only thing tethering you to Chicago, but he was spending less and less time with you again as senior year was coming to an end. You tried to move on, but this boy was genuinely the only person you could tolerate in your high school. The prospect of college meant the chance to forget your feelings for him. If Lip left for college, maybe you’d both move on for good. You’d be too busy with college to bother with each other. High school was a nightmare with your unrequited feelings for Philip Gallagher and you were sick of it. 

“Did you get any news back?” Lip asked you. He was fully laying on your bed now. You looked at him and shook your head. 

“Few rejections, but I haven’t heard from my reach school yet,” you replied, shifting your position so he could lay more comfortably. 

“They’d be stupid to reject you,” he responded. He picked up the book you were reading to examine it. 

“Yeah we’ll see,” you shrugged. “I hear back from my dream school any day now. SAIC let me in though.” 

“At the art institute?” Lip looked back at you as he asked. “I thought you don’t want to go to school in Chicago.”

“I don’t, but thought I’d give it a shot. I enjoy the campus, and the museum is a big plus.” 

“You know I’d hate to have you leave me here, (Y/L/N),” Lip said, looking back at the ceiling. Your heart skipped a beat at his words. You shrugged it off and tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. He can’t say that shit. Not when he’s the only one who could convince me to stay. 

“If you go to Massachusetts, you’d be leaving too, Loser. We’d be even.” You sighed. “Besides, I got my eyes set on California. No way am I tolerating another winter here.”

The conversation ended at that. Lip stayed over until it was dark. Before leaving, he brought up a new topic. 

“You heard about the school dance next Friday?” He asked practically halfway out the door. You nodded. “Interested in going at all?”

“Are you not taking Mandy?” You asked back. Lip shook his head in reply. 

“She’s busy that night. I thought it’d be fun to go just you and me, like we used to.”

“And get high on the fields? Can’t we do that anywhere else?” You asked, grimacing. 

Lip scoffed and shook his head. “It’s the last dance of high school. I thought that’d mean something to you. For old times sake.” 

You smiled. You liked being asked to go. You hadn’t gone to many dances since high school started. It would be nice to have a night with the two of you without Mandy. You could pretend that nothing had changed since you were kids. 

—

Of course things had to change, and they were about to. You were at your mailbox holding your Berkeley acceptance in hand. The paper seemed to glow. This was it. Your ticket out of here. You practically fell to your knees reading it. Your hands were shaking too much to read anymore than the congratulations written at the top of the page. Time slowed as you began to imagine a life outside of Chicago. Your life away from the South Side, away from your school, away from your family, away from Lip. It was hard to imagine what that would look like. Lip had been by your side through everything. You grew up together. All your core memories involved him. Moving was what you wanted but you couldn’t help but grieve your time with Lip. But leaving was necessary, you couldn’t live ignoring your feelings any longer. You had to go. 

You stayed at your mail box for a while. Your eyes stayed glued to the acceptance letter until you heard a familiar voice call out to you from a few houses down. 

“You okay there, (Y/N)?” Lip shouts, standing in his front yard. His sudden presence snaps you out of your thoughts. You folded the paper up and shoved it back in the envelope before walking over to the Gallagher home. 

“Totally fine,” You half smiled, opening the gate to enter his yard. You tried desperately to shake off your visible grief. You just wanted to celebrate and spend time with your best friend. “Great even. I need a drink.” 

Lip let out a laugh and let you inside. With no further questions, you entered the house, grabbed two beers out of the fridge and made your way up the stairs into Lip’s room. Meanwhile, Lip’s eyes never left the envelope that you held in your hand.

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Dark! Tangerine » Scenario #1: Jealousy

Pairing: Dark Tangerine x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: Jealous Tangerine thoughts.

WARNING: Toxic/Abusive Relationship; Manipulation. 

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

Also this gif is perfect for this scenario, isn't it?

--

If you think that Tangerine isn’t a jealous man, then you’re living in a fantasy world. 

He is fueled by jealousy. 

Your boyfriend feels - nope, he knows - that more than half of the male population in the world is after you and that’s why he must keep you away from those pricks. 

Tangerine will openly forbid you from going out on your own, no matter how much you argue or beg. He’s inflexible when it comes to it and you also might as well forget about your job. He needs to know that you’re safely tucked in the comfort of his house, far away from any danger (aka any male specimen). 

Otherwise Tangerine won’t be able to concentrate on anything else, practically bursting a brain vein from overthinking. His mind making up the worst scenarios of creepy men flirting with you, trying to swoon you or even worse, to hurt you. Lemon does try his best to reason with his brother, but it’s a failed attempt as Tangerine is quite the stubborn man. 

If you try to escape the house to go somewhere, he’ll be so quick to find out where you are as your phone location is always available for him (you don’t know about this).

Chances are that you’ll be enjoying yourself at a coffee shop with some friends, assuming that your boyfriend is busy with a job outside the country meaning you won’t have to worry about rushing back home when suddenly a very angry Tangerine shows up, with ripped off clothes with blood stains all over and very little patience as he asks whether you want to come home willingly or should he drag you back. Your choice, of course.

You barely speak to him on your way home, bursting in tears of annoyance and shame the moment you get inside his car. Lemon tries his best to serve as a mediator and to calm you down but Tangerine’s rage is too big to be controlled as he shouts at you of how irresponsible you were. 

He’s not shy explaining and detailing all the possible scenarios that could happen to you. You do know that he has dangerous enemies, right? Enemies that won’t bat an eye before cutting you into tiny pieces to get revenge at him. Enemies that wouldn’t hesitate as they would fuck you like animals over and over till they left you broken.

Did you know that? Yeah, he didn’t think so either. Basically it’s a huge guilt-tripping session until you feel like - maybe - it’s actually your fault. Maybe Tangerine is right. He’s your boyfriend after all, right?

He only wants what’s best for you. Those are the words he repeats that night as he apologizes for yelling at you as he kisses your head, pulling you into a bear hug. 

He’d lose his mind if he ever lost you and that’s something you need to take into consideration. So promise him that you’ll be a good girl from now on and he might just let you out into the garden. 

“I care about you, ya know that, right? I’m so fuckin’ sorry I yelled at you, sweetheart, but you seriously’ scared the shit out of me. I swear that if anything happened to you…I’d just fuckin’ kill myself. You’re my life and that’s all I care about.” 

[wrathful--artist]

Infected/Zombie Reader helping RE men (Leon K., Carlos O., & Ethan W.)

Somewhat based on that one zombie reader post by @qdbs-writes because honestly it was really cute and this idea has been bouncing in my brain for a bit. I’m going to preface that I’ve only played RE2R, but I have a vague understanding of the RE lore and stories, i’m only doing these three because I know them the best, if I knew chris better I would’ve added him

(this is just a suggestion but here’s what’s damaged on your zombie body: right eye gone, right cheek crewed off, left shoulder nearly gone, and several bites all around)

Leon S. Kennedy (RE2)

You’re one of the many, many, people who fled to the RPD to escape the growing hoards of zombies, unfortunately you were infected early on and hid out in one of the many storage rooms as you succumbed to the virus

…but your conscious stays somewhat intact, sure every thought is slower and less verbose but you still have some of it left, speaking is hard as well but you can speak to some degree

you stay on the third floor, observing Marvin and eventually Leon once he comes in

You’re enamored as soon as you see him, so you decide to try and help him as he goes through the entire RPD, placing some ammo here, some boards there, in general helping out behind the scenes despite how slow you move

This slowness bites you when you go down to the main hall to place a green and red plant you had found next to the typewriter, since Leon had been limping for quite awhile around the RPD

You gently place the two plants (still in the containers, you can’t grind them up due to the shakiness in your zombified hands) but you hear Leon coming down from the second floor library so you try and shuffle back into a room to hide again, until you hear the click of his gun

You turn around and see Leon, gun raised to likely give you a headshot like he’s given to plenty of the other zombies around (you know since you’ve seen plenty bodies with exploded heads..)

So you just, start shuffling backwards with arms raised in peace, mumbling ‘sorry.. sorry.. please, no.. hurt’ as best you can with your undead voice, which comes out pretty rough

Leon was about to shoot you but as soon as he saw you back away and mumble what sounded like human speech and not just growls and rumbles, so he lowers his gun slightly, tilting his head at you

You escape into the west office, and Leon fully lowers his gun and then looks at the plants you left him (he uses them, he’s not an idiot to ignore a healing item when he’s been at ‘danger’ for 2 hours)

When Leon unlocks the Goddess statue you come out from hiding and softly approach, and hand him some ammo and healing items “good.. byye..” you say to him look at him with your singular eye (you lost the other one when you got infected) before starting to walk off

Leon watches you walk away, about to hide again and he hesitates before saying “Wait, would you… like to come with me?”.

He watches you turn slightly and grumble “..you.. sure?”

He nods at you and you walk back up to him, and follow him as he goes down the stairs

Bonus:

During the G-3 fight you help by throwing yourself at him and stab one of the eyes with a knife Leon gave you, smiling in triumph when you stab an eye fully

Ada is very cautious and nearly shoots you several times, she thinks you’re just in the early stages of infection and she doesn’t want you killing her pawn (leon) before he gets the virus for her

When you get on the train Claire and Sherry are a bit wary of you but during the trip they start to like you, Leon’s account helps a lot as well

Carlos Oliveria (RE3)

Similar to Leon’s, you’re one of the people who fled to the RPD and got infected, and hid in a storage room (this storage room was clearly for all the Christmas decor… the bells gave it away)

You picked off the bells and kept them in a small box, as well as stealing post-it notes and a pen from the west office

From the second floor you watch Carlos and Tyrell make their way in, watching them scope out the place

As soon as you saw Carlos, you muttered under your breath “he..h.. scruffy..”

You noticed he was having a hard time with the Lickers, so you decided to make use of the bells you took, throwing them down hallways out of sight of Carlos so the Lickers chased the noise

He heard the chiming, making a remark like “The hell is that coming from?”

After awhile of doing this, you decided to just gift Carlos the bells

You place them on a desk with the brightest sticky note you could find

He finds it, noticing the stark contrast of the gloomy environment of the RPD, and reads the note

‘For the licks! Hold tighy in hnd then throw, it loud so they chse! : )’ was written on the note, it was hard to read being a shaky and messy handwriting but he got the general idea, chuckling at the squiggly smily face on it

He opens and sees 4 tiny golden bells

He looks around, hoping to maybe find who put it there but finds nothing, nothing but a hunched over dead (?) zombie next to the desk “Whoever put this here, Thanks, and thanks for probably being the reason for saving my ass a few times”

He leaves and you say to the air “no.. problemmm..!”

You start following him around and so he eventually notices you, and nearly shoots you on the spot before you move your hand to ring the golden bell you kept and attached to a string as a necklace

He relaxes a bit but keeps his guard up until he realizes that you’re just an innocent smart (questionable) zombie!

Bonus:

Before realizing that you weren’t gonna hurt him, he really thought you were because you kept staring up at his head… In reality you just really wanted to pet his hair, but because words are hard when you’re a zombie and you didn’t wanna get shot you just didn’t say anything

(You eventually did get to touch his hair, muttering a “soooft.. so.. soooft!”)

In that helicopter cutscene when Nicholai is about to shoot Jill, you jump from nowhere and tackle the guy by the neck; Carlos shouts in exclamation “Hell yeah! Get him!” before Nicholai punches your jaw right off (ouch)

Ethan Winters (RE7)

In this case you’re kinda like Ethan if he didn’t get all his memory and body transferred (does.. does that make sense???)

Since the moment Ethan stepped into the Baker House, you’ve been watching him

While you can’t remember most of your past, you know you were human like him, and watching him brings you a sense of… comfort. So you watch as he explores the house, trying to find Mia

Sometimes you forget what you’re doing and make noise, making Ethan more paranoid as he goes through the house (you felt bad every time you accidentally spooked him)

Watching him getting attacked by Mia was a nightmare, and you felt like you shouldn’t intervene… until Mia stabbed him in the hand

You emerged from the shadows (and mold..) and pulled her off of Ethan, giving a soft growl at her before she tried to attack you. You sidestepped and pushed her into the wall, which caused her to knock her head against the wall and faint

You stared down at her before turning to Ethan, who was a bit put off by your appearance

“You’re… hurt. Follow.” and you start walking to where a first aid liquid was hidden away and hand it to him

After patching him up you go over to the boarded up door and started to remove the wood with ease, before Mia got back up and threw Ethan through the nearly open door. You yelp (with some scratchiness) at that before running up to try and help, but then Ethan swung an axe into her neck.

You look at him and see the horror in his eyes at what he’s just done, you reach out to touch his back before slightly withdrawing; “you… oo-kay?” You asked in a low voice, and he shook his head before standing up and making his way deeper into the house, fully ignoring you after that.

So you follow, wanting to make sure he’s okay. He’s the only thing human in this house (for now)

Then Mia comes back again, of course, stabbing Ethan in the hand with a screwdriver this time. You run up and start trying to pry it out of the wall and his hand, before you see Mia coming with a chainsaw. She slashes with the chainsaw, cutting you in half at the shoulder before hitting Ethan’s wrist.

You blackout for awhile, coming to after about an hour as your body of mold stitches itself back together into one solid form again

Submerging into the mold, you reform in the living room adjacent to the nightmare dining room, seeing the back of Ethan tied in one of the chairs

You carefully untie him from the chair, before being noticed Marguerite pulled you up by the hair unto the table

You reach into a clump of mold and pull a smoke bomb before pulling Ethan out of the chair and away

From there on you helped him the best you could

Bonus:

You alway try and take the hits for him, he’s still fleshy and human, you can take it! He’s still worried for you despite the fact you can patch yourself back together.

When Ethan dies and becomes mold, you feel bad for him. You don’t tell him, since if he thinks he’s still human, then he’s still human to you.

After the BSAA comes you don’t know what to do, you assume you’re going to be left there or be experimented on… but Ethan calls your name (that you told him at some point, it’s one of the only things you have left from before being molded) and gestures you to come with him, you come close before fearfully looking at Chris, but he just nods and lets you on the helicopter.

OKAY WOW this is… something. I don’t know. I kinda gave up in that last one despite Ethan being my favorite next to Leon. I really hope, that this is good, im some way, amd i hope i didnt totally screw the canon, ahhh. Hope people like thissss,,, would’ve done art but i’ve got art block

[follows-the-bees]

2x3 Filmmaking Analysis

Editing and cinematography breakdown of the purgatory and mermaid scene in The Innkeeper.

I haven't talked much about editing in all of my previous breakdowns of this season, but I want to start talking about that, and I'm starting with this scene. The whole of 2x3 contains exceptional editing between what is happening in Ed's gravy basket purgatory and the real world.

We start with Stede on the stairs, quiet, only a deep inhale of despair is heard, the heartbreak already evident on his face. He holds up a lamp, one of the only sources of light in the "reality" scenes. Lighthouses and golden lighting in general have been used in both seasons to symbolism the love between Ed and Stede. Stede is literally carrying this light with him, and he sets it down next to Ed's head shining the light onto him. Stede is the one who puts the glow on Ed's face.

The editing then cuts to Ed in Purgatory as he hits the water, a giant light behind him, but he starts to sink away from it, becomes surrounded by water, recalling back to 1x4 when he talks about how he feels like he is just treading. Water shows Ed's mental state: he's expressed in the past that he feels like he's drowning, he wants to stay at sea forever, be the bird who doesn't touch ground, etc.

We end this shot with Ed's bare feet the most visible in the dark blue abyss of the ocean. And in a direct parallel, the next edit is to Stede's feet - which are wrapped in BLUE-dyed fabric, with RED lining - walking into the waterlogged cabin. This immediate cut between their two feet in water shows how Stede is meeting Ed in both worlds. They are together in the water, in the deep blue depth, their connection only picks up from there.

While talking to Hornigold, Ed professed that he didn't think anyone was waiting for him. And he still has that mindset as he starts to sink.

Stede sits quietly down next to Ed, lovingly calls him a nut, and debates about taking the cloth off of Ed's face. We know Stede to be a boisterous man, not afraid to talk, but his voice is quiet here, the sentences short. He covers his face with his hands, hiding and comforting himself. Stede is rendered speechless when he's faced with earth-shattering grief and this all encompassing sorrow tells the audience just how much pain Stede is in.

Stede pulls off the cloth from Ed's face, once again taking a shaky inhale of breath to prepare himself, and the show cuts to Ed's eyes opening in the water as he starts to fight, pulling on the rope tugging him down.

The editing takes us back and forth between Ed struggling with the rope in Purgatory to his fingers and hand twitching as he fights in the real world, all voiced over by Stede's mournful apologies to Ed. When Stede's voice comes through to Ed, it sounds muffled, like it has to travel through a tube to get to him - through the water and Ed's coma-induced brain.

As soon as Stede touches Ed's hand in the real world, squeezing it, Ed stops sinking further into the watery depths, and instead his focus is before him where a large light has appeared. This editing shows how Ed feels Stede's presence, not only his voice but how the touch grounds him, or at least prevents him from further sinking.

Stede's voice changes here, getting louder as he yells at Ed to come back to him. The quiet grief is replaced by twinges of hope, the deep sobs escape in raspy pains of anguish.

The light first appears to Ed in Purgatory when Stede holds his hand, and as Stede starts to hammer on his chest, to try and bring some life into him, the scene cuts to Ed seeing movement in the light as Stede in mermaid form starts to swim closer.

The scene then goes from both POVs to just Ed's. We see the rope come off as he decides to live. We can hear the muffled cries of Stede breaking in from the real world, and we see a sequence of scenes from the first season of Ed and Stede as Ed remembers all of their moments together.

Right when Stede pounds his chest for the last time and says he will never leave again, that's when the mermaid version of him comes into full focus. And we again spend time in just purgatory, in Ed's POV.

Mermaid Stede swims up to Ed and stops right in front of him, not touching, not pulling him to the surface. Instead he just stays there with him, smiling, and letting him know he's there. It is Ed who decides to live, and I think that's an important distinction. Stede doesn't save him, he just exists in Ed’s space, floating in the water, and ushering in light and hope.

The last moments are Ed waking up as Stede cries, their hands gripping onto each other in a symbolic meaning of them choosing each other, Ed choosing life. The last shot is no longer the fantastical purgatory place with bright white lights and blue water that symbolize the all encompassing pressure around Ed. Now it's the real world, where Stede is wearing blue and red, his feet are in water, and his lamp shining the light onto Ed. Their hands are clasped together as Ed takes a large breath of air - coming to life. Reborn not on the seas or water, but the boat that they fell in love with each other on.

We see continued symbolism throughout this scene. The red representing their love, the lamp set next to Ed by Stede and the bright light in the ocean that mermaid Stede brings in, showing the light and hope in Ed's mind now. And the blue colors that Stede wears, and Stede stepping into the water-logged cabin, showing how he is joining Ed in his world. And when Ed chooses life, all of those things are there to greet him but not in the bright fantasy colors of his mind, but rather the muted colors of the real world.

The cinematography of purgatory is lighter in tones. The ocean is dark until Stede brings in the white blinding light, which then surrounds them, turning the water around them to a soft blue. On the other hand, the lighting on the ship is darker. The brown wood of the cabin are just shapes in the background. The only light is from the deep orange lantern glow. The contrast in colors representing the fantasy from reality.

Every single cut in the editing has a purpose. Each action that happens in the real world is immediately reflected in the purgatory mindset. Not a single shot wasted. This scene is beautifully put together in all aspects of the filmmaking.

Hand gif credit

[hungharrington]

i looove the idea of steve putting on a few post vecna, his sweet sweet thighs and belly 😭😭❤️just completely oblivious and slightly confused to the adoration held for his softness. slow blowjob in the morning caressing his tummy and working your hand down his happy trail, before going to squeeze his cock. hands squishing and kneading his thighs as he’s sucked off, his pretty little whimpers escaping

THIS. THIS ASK HAS STUCK IN MY BRAIN AND FOLLOWED ME AROUND SINCE U SENT IT NONNIE LIKE YOU!! GET!! IT!! there is such pure adoration in this ask… u love stevie like i do i just know it <3 

it’s not that he’s skinny beforehand it’s just it’s year after year after year of living in survival mode does things to the body. steve’s on the leaner side and it’s saved his skin more times he can count, being nimble and fast. so, yeah, it does take a good year or two before steve manages to relax in his life and then at least one more for his body to catch up and let him settle. let him grow properly— give him that chub around his thighs, his tummy a proper lil pouch instead of lean and hard muscle. and to be honest, steve doesn’t really notice :’) he’s caught up in living his life fully with you happily and you only catch it, like really notice the difference, after seeing a photo of him back in ‘83 and it sets a fucking fire in you. you can’t contain it, can’t think normally about how much you adore the softness steve’s grown into with you — and it comes out the next morning, when you’re both getting handsy between the sleepy kisses. 

steve is surprised by how eager you are— normally mornings together are more of a slow cuddle fuck if anything— but today, you’re hungry for it, lips just caressing down his neck, sloppy kisses down his chest til you get to his tummy and steve loves it. he loves the view of you peering up at him, adoration in your gaze as you nuzzle along his happy trail with a content hum. your hands are soft, sweet, giving a ghost of a touch along the planes of his torso and you don’t mean to tease him, but his length pressed against your stomach isn’t enough to draw you from loving on him. it’s not til he starts squirming a bit that you notice he’s all hot and bothered, chest rising and falling a bit quick. “m’sorry baby,” you murmur, finally letting your kisses lead you lower, along his hipbone. “didn’t mean to tease.” 

you try to restrain yourself and give yourself only a minute on his thighs, little nips and lovebites, but even then steve notices it a bit, the extra attention you’re giving. he sounds a bit wrecked when he rasps his words out, “lotsa… christ, lotsa love on the thighs today, honey,” and you use that are your cue to slide his leaking cock into your mouth, pulling out this adorable soft little moan. you pull back, giving the head the smallest kitten lick, hands stretching up to his tummy for a moment, “bad thing?”you check. steve’s shaking his head against the pillow in an instant, “no! no, never. never… never a bad thing being loved by you sweetness,” his voice is all sticky with love and you know he means every word. your hands drag down to hold his thighs, kneading the softness as you start to suck him gently. the bedroom is golden in the morning sun and steve’s soft little noises, whimpers and moans, sound downright sinful and he feels so damn loved. it might just be a perfect morning.

[blixssily]

"i love you, it's ruining my life."

| being bailed out by your ex is sure to bring back lingering feelings, no?

| dazai osamu x reader

˓ ꒱ notes and disclaimers: pm!reader and ada!dazai. dazai is reader's ex lover from the port mafia. gn reader. reader and dazai are both in their 20s. incorrect jail description. not proof read, apologies for any grammatical mistakes! might be incredibly ooc and might contain wrong information about the port mafia, apologies for both.

˓ ꒱ authors notes: in light of taylor swift's new album coming out, i'm trying my hand at writing for dazai!! i'm bad at writing angst so please bare with me. :(

the cold metal confinements are tight around wrists, the officers must've cuffed you a tiny bit too tightly you think. the blank grey walls of your prison are as uninspiring as your thoughts, you can't even find it in yourself to even try to escape from jail. to the majority of the members in the Port Mafia, crime was almost always a guarantee during missions. treading the lines of the law was a common thing, most missions included breaking those precious regulations. it was almost like the law had just become mere suggestions, guidance that you could choose to follow or not.

and sadly for you, the hands of the law had finally caught up with you this time, confining you into a bland concrete box. you were currently sitting on the bed that came with every little cell. not even sitting on it was comfortable, much less laying down on it. despite how uncomfortable the bed was, it would be quiet a pathetic sight for a Port Mafia executive to be sitting on the floor and just staring at the wall so you decided against it.

normally whenever you were unlucky enough to have been caught by the law, someone from the Port Mafia would bail you out, namely Mori or maybe some other executive. you weren't too surprised when an officer informed you that you had been bailed out, preparing your usual apology and to listen through a few lectures from whoever bailed you out on to be more careful during missions.

you're escorted out of your little concrete box, you wonder if the officer is going to remove the hand cuffs around your wrists. you follow the officer down the prison hallway, thankful to not be sitting on that god awful bed that you could've sworn was just a rock with a blanket draped over it. you're expecting to be met with a very displeased boss, preparing your apology for your clumsiness in being caught when.. you don't see him at all. in fact, you see someone you thought you'd never see again.

he looks.. different. he's grown taller, you're sure of it. he's been ridden of his usual black trench coat you always saw him in, his right eye and cheek no longer being covered by the fabric of gauze. instead, he's wearing a tan trench coat now, a bolo tie replacing his usual tie when he was in the Port Mafia. his hair messy and curly, not that it was ever neat, god no. you stare at the absence of bandages around his right eye and cheek, revealing his complete face and you can't help but mentally kick yourself for staring a little longer than necessary.

and suddenly, you become hyper aware of the sinking feeling in your stomach. it makes you sick to look at him, sick that your brain subconsciously forces you to relive your shared memories together. you avert your gaze down to the grey grounds of the prison lobby, unable to meet his gaze without glaring bitterly at him. your ex had apparently bailed you out of jail. your ex boyfriend from years ago when you both were in the Port Mafia. a cocky little smirk adorned his features, maybe he hasn't changed that much in some ways.

you find it in yourself to look up at him, emotions brewing behind your eyes. anger, confusion.. mostly anger, and yet you find it in your heart to feel relief at that fact that he's alright. that's he's not harmed. he had up and left without a word, not even a goodbye to you. you worried for him days on end, calling and texting but to no avail which ended up in you just calling it a breakup, calling him your ex boyfriend. despite the relief, it's minuscule in terms of your anger towards the man you once loved. you glare at him, glare at his stupid cocky smirk and how he seems like he doesn't even care about the history between you two. it's like nothing ever happened between the both of you.

"you're the one who bailed me out? what is this, some sick game you've decided to play?" you scoff at him, there was no way he just.. decided to bail out a Port Mafia executive out of the goodness of his heart, no.. no no no. that couldn't be true. "shame, not even a thank you?" you roll your eyes at his feigned sigh of disappointment. an officer releases your wrists from the metal confinements, red mark were already formed on your wrist. you bring your hands to your wrists, trying to soothe your irritated skin from how tight the hand cuffs were. you don't realise the look in his eyes, the slight change in his expression when he noticed the marks on your wrists. he doesn't like seeing you hurt, he absolutely hates seeing you in pain even if it's a mere scratch or.. in this situation, marks from a police officer's hand cuffs.

"come on now, the least you could do is thank me." he says with another cocky smile, you wish you could just slap it off his face but something tells you that he wouldn't exactly be ecstatic with you slapping his face in a police station.

"what do you want?" you snapped, not in any mood to be dealing with his teasing words accompanied by his usual shit-eating grin. he couldn't have bailed you out for fun, or for some sentimental reason. he wanted something, there was also a price when it came to him. "ah, how harsh! you're breaking my heart here.." the asshole has the gull to even jokingly suggest something like that.

"nothing much, really. just thought i'd help out an old friend." he hums, and you don't know if his words only spark a new flame of anger inside of you or if it wrenches your heart. the fact that he would consider you an "old friend", when you were his literal partner when you both were teenagers.

"an old friend? be a man you asshole, own up to who you broke up with." he doesn't answer, as expected. you're not sure whether you'd even prefer a response from him or just silence.

"let's talk, hm? maybe somewhere else?" he suggests after some time, calmly putting his hands into the pockets of his tan coat. you notice the slight change in expression in his face, you've spent years trying to practically decode this man and it only added to his amusement when you both were teenagers. now, you're thankful you took the time to observe him. you don't know exactly what he wants to talk about but, you know it's something serious.

"fine." you begrudgingly agree to him, sighing as you notice him leaving without another word and you know that's your queue to follow him. you don't know what you were expecting from the bandaged man, but he leads you to a little café. you raise an eyebrow at him when you two reach the front door, not exactly expecting him to take you to a cute little café that sells pastries and drinks. he meets your suspicions gaze with an innocent smile, urging you to step inside before him. what a gentleman. you step inside the humble establishment, greeted with a friendly smile by the cashier before settling into a seat near the back. he sits opposite you, it's almost as if he's treating this like you're his friend and you both are just going for lunch.

"so? you never answered my question." you reminded him, crossing your arms as you lean back on the plush backing of the seats. "what do you want, dazai." it hurts him the way you say his name, his surname. you never did that when you both were together, he liked being addressed as 'osamu' or 'samu' by you, it feels like salt being rubbed into the wound when you call him by his surname.

"oh? i'm deciding whether to get the latte or..." he trails off, noticing the most unamused expression ever on your face. he chuckles at the sight, shaking his head. "i'm only joking." he hums, stopping his little act at looking at the menu on the table. "i.. wanted to see how you were doing, is all." he shrugs, not really having a good explanation for bringing you to this cafe or hell, even bailing you out of jail. "i mean no harm by doing any of this, truly." he adds on before you get to question him, knowing what you were just about to ask him.

did he really mean that? that he wanted to just.. talk? you don't know what you should reply with, as a Port Mafia executive you should've killed him by now for being a traitor, but as his ex.. you're not sure what to feel. truthfully, sure you were pissed off at him for leaving without a word but you just couldn't find it in yourself to hate the man.

"fine, one hour."

"oh come on, two?" he pouts childishly, a sight you hadn't seen for awhile.

"one hour and a half. make it quick." you relent once again, it seemed like he still had the ability to make you soften up to him.

and so with that, you two proceed to awkwardly choose out your drinks for the time being while at the café and try your hands at small talk. it was.. incredibly awkward between the both of you, undoubtedly it was a little weird to even talk about work since well.. him being a Detective at the ADA and with you being a Port Mafia executive, what was there to talk about? it's weird to be so stiff with someone you used to be so comfortable with, you used to be able to talk about anything when you were younger but now it's just.. not the same.

while you two were talking, your phone screen lit up. some message from another Port Mafia member came up, said something about it being urgent. "i.. have to go, it's important." you looked up from your phone to face him, rolling your eyes at the tiny little pout that graced his lips. "a shame, maybe next time?" he suggests, hoping to have another time to talk with you again. you get the feel he misses you dearly.

"maybe." you shrug, standing up from your seat. you slid a napkin over to him, pointing to the corner of your mouth to signal to him that he had something on his. he mutters a small 'thank you', a tiny bit embarrassed that he might indeed have something on the corner of his mouth. as you leave, he uses his phone to check his appearance and.. there wasn't anything there? he thinks it might just be a silly little prank on your end to tease him after so long, he mindlessly flips the napkin in his hands as he puts his phone down.

in the corner of his eye, he noticed some.. writing on the napkin. your... number? you had changed your phone number some time after he left and now, you had given him your current one! it meant that you at least weren't that mad at him after so long, and that you at least wanted to stay in contact with him.

he decides to text you, just in case you decide to change your mind in the mean time of your separation.

your phone lights up as you made your way down the street.

[unknown number, 3:46 p.m ➜ you] "same place, friday?"

[neteyamsyawntu]

Kinkmas Day 09

X e n o p h i l i a

Neteyam x Human!Reader

✨Friendly Disclaimer: The content of this story contains aged-up characters! If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, please feel free to click or scroll away. The last thing I want is for anyone to read something they are uncomfortable with, however if you decide to interact with any negativity, you will be blocked from my blog as a result.

Warnings: 🔞MINORS DNI🔞, size difference, interspecies relationship, slight dub con, alcoholic intoxication, p in v, vulgar language, M and F fingering, alien genitalia (retractable penis)

The music could be heard from outside the resistance’s lab as Neteyam approached. He had been a bit late to the holiday party, having needed to wrap up a few unfinished chores before heading over. Lo’ak, Spider, and Kiri had already been there since the start of the festivities, yet of course the person he was most excited to see was you, his adorable little human mate. You were always so positive and filled with life, never missing a beat when it came to lighting up a room with your presence. 

Making his way inside the lab, Neteyam was greeted with a dark room, filled with festive lights and decorations, a sight that was very out of the norm for the usual blandness of the lab’s typical fluorescent lighting. It took no time at all to spot you out, dancing and swaying to the music along side Kiri, who was the first to notice his arrival. He watched as Kiri tapped your shoulder before pointing in Neteyam’s direction. Your eyes immediately lit up upon seeing your mate, rushing toward him and nearly tripping over your own feet in the process, prompting Neteyam to meet you half way and catch you in his arms before you landed face first into the tile. “Ma’yawne you really must be more careful.” He scolds, raising his voice above the music so you were able to hear him. “Kxì ma’munxta~.” You mused excitedly, knowing how much Neteyam adored when you spoke to him in his mother tongue. 

“Kaltxì ma’tìyawn… nga rou lu.” He playfully scolds, crouching down to your level and pulling you between his legs to press his lips against your ear so he wouldn’t have to continue raising his voice. You gasp taking a step back as if he had made some profound accusation, but even you could tell you maybe have had a bit too much to drink. Kiri had known it too and scolded Lo’ak and Spider herself for pushing so much alcohol on you, walking up behind you to greet her brother. “I think your mate has had enough of the party, brother.” She says matter of factly, crossing her arms over her chest, mirroring that of a disappointed parent. 

There were no arguments there, your breath reeked of sky people liquor. He would’ve asked how you had even gotten to this state, but he didn’t even bother pursuing the idea when he noticed his skxawng brother and Spider trying to hide themselves in the back of the lab at the sight of his presence. With a rough groan and a shake of his head, Neteyam wastes little time scooping you into his arms, “Thank you for looking after her, sister. I’ll make sure she stays in her room for the rest of the night.” He says leaning toward Kiri, before making his way down the hall. At his words you immediately begin to squirm in his arms, trying to wriggle out of them, yet making little progress, “Noooo! Teyam you just got here- you should enjoy the party toooo.”, “It is alright yawne, you can tell me all about it later.”.

Carefully, Neteyam ducks under your doorframe after opening the door to your room, setting you down on the bed, as he began taking off your clothes to prepare you for sleep, starting with your shoes, “How are you feeling ma’yawntu?” He coos softly as not to overstimulate your already throbbing brain now that it was semi quiet. “I’m fiiine… a little dizzy, but I’m fine. We should go back out!” You beam, about to scoot over and slide off the bed past him, at least until Neteyam blocks your escape with his body, moving to remove your shirt, “That’s enough partying for tonight, Y/N. You need your rest.” He hums, trying to soothe your overactive senses, but of course it wouldn’t be that easy to subdue you in this state, “But you were hardly hereeee, you should enjoy it too!”. 

Neteyam raises his gaze to your own, as he slides the sleeping shirt you kept on your bed over your head, giving you a sympathetic look, “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner, but we can enjoy our time together now, okay?”. His voice rings so softly in your ears, it feels like just hearing it could turn your body into mush. A blush rises to your cheeks as your eyes lazily scan about his toned body. You can’t help, but bite your lip, shifting your hips upward as Neteyam removes your shorts with ease, being sure not to tug your panties down with them. “Are you going to help me sleep tonight?” You purr making a mental effort to articulate properly in order to give off the seductive tone you were trying to achieve. 

Neteyam brings his attention back to you as he sets your shorts down on the floor in a pile with the rest of your clothes, a slight chuckle leaving his lips at your obvious attempt at seduction, “Yes, I will stay with you tonight. I’ll make sure you have someone to hold your hair back incase you have an upset stomach.” He jokes, giving you a tooth grin as he stands to his full height in attempts to move onto your mattress, yet before he can fully commit to the action, your hand reaches up to grasp at the band of his tewng, a gentle giggle leaving your lips as he stares down at you with his head cocked to the side, “You know what the best remedy for getting me to sleep, right?” You purr giving the band of the garment a suggestive tug, already feeling your body responding to being eye level with his pelvis.

With a quite sigh Neteyam, cups your cheek in his large palm ever so gently, “My yawne… you need proper sleep tonight. I do not want you to over extend your body’s limits.”. A childish pout form on your lips as you give the garment a much rougher tug this time, actually succeeding in pulling his hips forward a bit, “Teyam pleeeease. I’ll be a good girl and sleep after I promise.” Your efforts of persuasion weren’t at their highest quality tonight, but still Neteyam had to admit to himself that the slurred presentation of your words was cute at the very least. “Yawne I��”, “Please Nete, I’ll be such a good girl.” Your words interrupt his train of thought as he lean into him, pressing your face right up against his pelvis, a sneaky hand slipping its way beneath his loincloth to allow your fingers to play at his slit. 

Neteyam had to swallow down a moan as he caught your heated gaze, nuzzling your face gently against his lower abdomen as you worked on coaxing out his cock from its hiding place. “Y/N…” he softly begs as a weak attempt to get you to stop, but he knew your touch felt way to good and to see you like this, all needy and vulnerable for him, made his better judgment faulter, feeling his body already reacting to your touch. “Haah! There it is.” You tease feeling the tip of his cock beginning to submerged between the slick folds of his slit. A rough somewhat disapproving growl at his own restraint leaves Neteyam as he quickly begins untying to strings of his loincloth, more than eager to be rid of the garment entirely. 

You giggle at his efforts and immediately attach your lips to his lower abdomen once the naked skin is revealed, leaving sloppy kisses along the surface, only further working to coax out your prize. You knew all the right tricks and tactics to get him going, even in your intoxicated state, you knew exactly how to get his body to react. Before long you pull away from his hips, allowing the full length of his cock to emerge, standing at full attention. It never ceased to blow you away, its tip a slight blueish/plum color, already leaking with a bioluminescent precum, while the shaft was littered in gorgeous tanhì, and then there were the ridges; one of the aspects you loved most about it and your cunt knew exactly how to take it, how to hug them tightly to make it even harder for him to pull out, forcing him to thrust into all the right spots over and over again until your body went limp with pleasure. 

“You are staring, yawne…” Neteyam hums giving you a somewhat cocky smile, “And when have I ever not stared?” You shoot back offering him your own flirtatious look. “Well would you prefer to stare, or would you rather I fuck you to sleep, hm? Surely you didn’t egg me on just to stare at it.”. At the invitation littered in his statement, you make quick work of scooting yourself back on the bed and shimmying your panties down your legs and tossing them off to the side, spreading yourself wide for him. You already knew the drill. Neteyam moved forward, placing his knee onto the bed as he leaned over you, pressing his lips to your forehead as he wasted no time plunging two of his fingers into your core. The moan that escaped you was loud and sinful, although thankfully you didn’t have to worry about being heard over the loud blaring of the music outside your door. 

“Tsk… Already so wet… has my little whore been needy for me today?” Neteyam coos against your hairline, sending a shiver down your spine. He had learned the word from you of course, but to hear him use it so casually in this context only made you want him more. “Y-yes.. haah please Nete, I want you inside me.” You plead, not bothering to hide the desperation in your voice now. “I already am inside you, yawne.”, “Not that… you know what I want.”. A rough chuckle rumbles against your skin before pressing a tender kiss to your cheek, “But you are still so tight… Do you think you can handle it?”, his tone is a mix of teasing and genuine affection that makes your heart swoon as you nod frantically in response, “Please Nete… need you. Rutxe ma’muntxatan.”.

Your use of na’vi along with the utter desperation in your tone evokes a low growl from your mate as he carefully withdraws his fingers, pressing his lips hungrily to your own as he uses your arousal to lubricate his shaft. Coming off your lips with a loud smack of saliva, Neteyam shifts his palm to the underside of your knees, pushing them toward your ears, making sure to spread you extra wide for him as he begins pushing his cock into you. His movements are still cautious of course. No matter how desperate he gets, Neteyam never allows himself to fully lose his restraint with you; constantly making sure you are comfortable. Your head falls back onto the bed as your body squirms at the intrusion. It never mattered how many times you took him, every time felt like the first, yet the familiarity of the stretch held a sense of relief to it, a comfort. A sense that you belonged to someone both body and soul, bonded, even if it wasn’t through the traditional ways of the na’vi, you were his and he was yours.

Tag list: @itchaboi-itchyboy @pandoraslxna @oakbuggy @plooto @xylianasblog @etherial-moon-blog @hikari-michiko @neteyamssyulang @blue-slxt @c-townes @loaksxhoe @xstarsdiary @neteyamswillow @akoyaxs @neteyxmsgirl @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @zafrinaxyz @neteyams-wh0re @neteyamyawne @kiri-tuk @beauitful-brown-skin-05 @akoyaxs @neteyamsstuff @puddleswimmingnerd-blog @ntymavtr @luvv4j4ybe11

[bakubunny]

a/n: *sighs.* here we go again.… ken ryuguji has been quickly taking over my brain. i would like to blame thank @sovya for planting this seed. pls forgive me bc i know this isn’t rly a thing. i just think he’s pretty and other dumb shit.

tags: soft!draken, f!reader, fluff, established relationship, cooking together, daddy kink (sort of?), daddy as a pet name, reader called baby, draken’s kind of sweet here, probably a bit ooc idk (sry)

“ken?”

“yeah, baby?” he replied. he pulled a container of leftover rice from dinner the night before out of the fridge.

“will you let me ask you something and not give me shit for it?” you asked. scents of onion, garlic, and pepper permeated the air as you stirred the pan before you.

ken grinned. “maybe. is it somethin’ i should give you shit for?”

you smiled in return. “maybe, but….”

“but…?” his smile softened. he set his hands on your shoulders behind you as you worked.

“i’m asking you not to. just this once,” you replied. “please.”

a silence filled the room. ken’s brow furrowed.

“alright. what is it?” he said.

you hesitated, keeping your eyes on the stove in front of you as a distraction.

“can i call you daddy?” you said softly.

ken stood still. “what?” his tone was biting when he spoke.

“sorry, that was stupid, i-” you replied, pulling away to busy your hands further with anything not near him.

“no. look at me.” he said firmly. ken stepped over to where you were and turned you around by the hips. “did i fucking hear you right?”

you looked up, eyes wide, his onyx gaze now a little softer though his brow stayed furrowed.

“i don’t know, did you?” you reply. “if i’m gonna piss you off, we’re not talking about it.”

his hands held tight as you tried to escape his grasp, pushing on his stomach.

“i’m not -” he sighed. “ask me again. i’ll be nice. i promise,” he said softly.

the sound of food sizzling on the stove behind you somehow lessened the tension in the room.

“can i call you daddy?” you repeated. “just like… in general?” it felt embarrassing, the way your tummy flipped and your mouth went dry trying to get the words out. you chewed on your lip waiting for his reply.

“you're serious? you mean that?” he said. his expression was difficult to read, but his eyes flickered down to your lips and back up.

you nodded in reply.

a small laugh left his lips. he leaned down towards you. “yeah. i thought you'd never ask.”

mini gremlins: @dcsiremc @bookcluberror @zazter-den @i-literally-cant-with-this @r4td0lll @naughtygobbo

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

I always thought that handcuffs were kinda stupid. As a little kid I would watch movies where the bad guys were hauled away in cuffs and I'd always think "alright, I guess that's inconvenient for them?" but I never really understood why they didn't just... take them off and escape

This curiosity heightened when I saw that my aunt had real metal handcuffs that locked with a real key and I quickly, before any adult could see what I was doing, shackled both my wrists with the cuffs as tight as they could go.

And when I say tight, I mean tight. I had reaaaaal skinny wrists and I was a child wearing adult handcuffs, so you'd think the cuffs would be loose but nope. Those things weren't circular anymore, they'd folded in so much that they looked more like the shape a cat's pupils turn when they're mad.

And what they don't tell you about real handcuffs? Those suckers are sharp. The inside edges are almost bladed, I guess to discourage exactly what I was trying to do but that certainly didn't stop my curious lil neurodivergent brain, oh no no.

Anyway, after about five minutes of pulling, straining, huffing and puffing, I finally went to find the adult with the key.

I was so disappointed.

And so, so hopelessly confused.

Course, no one questioned why I had locked my aunt's handcuffs and why I needed them unlocked. And, of course, I didn't communicate my confusion in any way.

So it wasn't until way later in life, when I had quickly shimmied out of one of those indestructible water park wristbands and saw the horrified eyes of my friends watching me with morbid glee, that I discovered that, apparently, most people can't dislocate their thumbs at will.

The moral of the story here is that neurodivergent children have no concept of typical versus atypical and that I cannot be contained by your petty mortal means.

[the-scarecrow-of-aus]

Soooo...

Um, for mermay...

I was thinking of what might be fun to write for dcxdp, I thought I might be able to hash something out as I drove home from work earlier...

Listening to a random Spotify playlist that contained 'two' songs right after each other.. (this will come up later)

People know about pirate!batman right?

'Leatherwing'

My mind went about updating leatherwing to include all the bats and birds. Then it went to how I'd introduce danny.

-

Danny, who learnt he was a mermaid when he was 14, after being knocked overboard unconcious, into the port he fell, getting brained by a stray lumber spar, caught in fouled rigging and then dragged over the side by dead weight all on accident by his port-friend sam.

He didn't drown, but it took a while to wake up then realising you were staring at the underside of the ships keel.

-

not a good thing to discover when your parents hunt mermaids and other mythical creatures. "Dangerous creatures danno my boy, once you anger a mermaid best ready yourself because they don't forgive easily!"

Even worse when they're constantly travelling by ship with their benefactors: the GIW (the gentlemen in white).

A privately sponsored armada of hunters: whether their prey is pirates, mermaids or any creature they consider a threat, you don't want to be hunted by them!

So danny, doing his best to not be caught but still learn what he's capable of, learning how to use his voice to stun and enchant... finally he gets discovered freeing their captives.

He has to flee and flee he does, escaping them and striking out on his own.

(I assume jazz stays in Port and isn't aware of what's currently happened-away at 'college')

-

Sometime in the future though, constantly dodging his parents attempts to track him whenever he comes to a port, Danny happened upon captain leatherwings pirateship.

He follows them as a mermaid, watching them work. Sometimes they attacked a ship and other times they fled, being chased by pirate hunters but never caught! It was fascinating to watch despite the danger of being seen (he's seen).

At night he'd wrap himself around the rudder and hum or quietly sing listening to the ocean, hoping another mermaid would answer his call (he's never met another)

One day as leatherwing's ship, the flying fox. Starts to sail into port, danny hears them say they will put up a request for new crew (some leaving, some died).

Danny slips away ahead of them to shore, stealing some dry clothes (without holes to look presentable) and camps out at the inn by the docks looking for hire.

-

It takes some work but Danny gets hired on, excited to be among people again. He's introduced to the crew and does his best to fit in, it becomes apparent some of the long term crew are more then just crew, they act just like family...

Danny gets close to them, curious about their relationships with each other. One night (I'm picking cass for this but it could be anyone) he finds 'orphan-blackblade' sitting on the stern of the ship.

her feet through the railing on the back trying to hum a strange tune that sounds familiar, another of the crew sees Danny watching and laughs, 'orphan doesn't talk, but she sits on the back of the boat every night listening to the 'music of the sea' (you do the math)

-

-

That would continue building a relationship at a pace but now, we come to the part where danny is revealed.

leatherwing and the flying fox is attacked by the GIW who stumbled on them looking for danny with whatever dark magic's they use to track him. This coincides with a storm approaching and as the battle rages Danny gets pinned under water by debris and is forced to start transforming.

He breaks free and seeing the fight going poorly tries to help using his cry to shock the GIW, it works. This is where things get a little angst as the flying fox crew don't recognise danny as a mermaid...

Danny seeing the mainmast of the GIW ship coming down tackles orphan out of the way but in saving her gets attacked by her and everyone else forcing him to take her hostage to save himself and flee, whisking her away into the dark of the stormy sea.

-

This is where the songs literally came in:

Fish in a birdcage: 'rule #34'

(Awkward timing, forcing me to decide which was the priority: getting my ace asses mind out of the gutter or keeping my car wheels out of the gutter as I did some specific driving on the freeway to avoid some surprise gridlock traffic ahead!)

So play that song and imagine pirate!cass waking up in a cave of an unknown island being stared down at by an angry, shirtless, very familiar looking mermaid who you'd just stabbed...

My brain while trying to drive:

The second song was: fin- ship in a bottle

What comes to mind (as I was now stuck in gridlock) is an angry danny fighting back as leatherwing tries to find his daughter orphan after she was taken by a mermaid that suddenly attacked them during the fight.

He'd interrogated the GIW who invaded his ship, those who hadn't been able to flee in time as he chased after his daughter, they were hunting the mermaid and assumed he was on-board (a thought backed up by nobody knowing where danny had gone-they found his torn off shirt though...).

He tore the knowledge from them on how they tracked the mermaid, learnt the consequences of using the magic, forced them off the ship because they were now 'deadweight', cast the magic and set sail.

And now that he'd found him he was going to get his daughter back... But as said before, dannys angry and they fight...

- that's all I got at the moment.

-

The only other things I have is cass going non verbal in the cave and humming her song which could calm danny down as he recognises it as the song he sung when wrapped around the rudder at nights.

Cass stopping the fight between Danny and Bruce (and her siblings) threatening to beat both their asses

Ellie showing up as a mermaid, trying to find danny, she bumped into jazz and they've been trying to find danny for a while (Danny forgets to check in every now and then)

[tenseoyong]

Thinking about Alpha!Eddie scenting Omega!Reader.

He’s so incredibly possessive and protective over his mate—before his claim and just as bad afterwards—he’s determined to make sure you smell like him and nothing but him at all times.

In Eddie’s mind, there was no better way to achieve that than to cover you in his cum. He’s very adamant about taking you at least twice a day—morning and night—filling you until your poor cunt can’t hold any more, his thick, milky cum leaking as his knot deflated.

Eddie was particularly fond of pulling your slick-soiled panties back in place as soon as he’s able to pull out, letting the soft fabric catch all his escaping spunk, and having you go about your day with the mess in your panties, stating, “You get so excited so easily every time you see me, can smell you from the other side of school if I tried hard enough. Bet any other alpha could too, smell that sweet, sweet cunt between your legs—but we can’t have that, can we?—Now they’ll smell me first, smell my claim before they even see you, won’t they?”

You’d have a hard time finding a single pair of panties you owned that didn’t carry the stain of his seed.

Even once, when Eddie had been cheeky and decided to buy a special lingerie set for you to enjoy together, he’d ruined the panties before you’d even opened the present. Eddie, having used the garment to wrap around his own cock before your arrival one evening, imagined of you dressed in the delicate lace—the red dye of the fabric contrasting with his cloudy spunk—until he spilled in his own hand.

Sometimes, for added affects, he just smears his own mess across your skin, and sends you on your way.

Particularly during your heats. Suppressants helped to aid in your ache and yearning for him, and somewhat dulled your natural omega sent so you could continue attending classes without sending every alpha near in a frenzy. Yet, Eddie was convinced every other alpha in city limits was leering at you—perhaps, a bit of his own paranoia—but he wasn’t one for taking any chances.

He made sure your panties were covered, trying desperately to mask the faux scent of your slick he was convinced he could smell a mile away—even going as far as to freshen them up in between classes, hastily jerking himself until he spilled onto your already spiked underwear while you dutifully held your skirt hem up for Eddie to have a clear shot.

Your skirt no doubt held a wet spot by the end of the day, yet it wasn’t from your own biological arousal—but Eddie’s cum soaking through your cotton panties and soiling your outer garments as well.

But that wasn’t enough, not to Eddie’s possessive-crazed mind. While he made sure your slick was overpowered by his own juices, Eddie had to do something about your scent glands.

There was no way, anyone wouldn’t be able to smell Eddie’s claim laid on you before you even stepped through a doorway—but what if, when you walked past the several alphas of the basketball team at lunch, and they’d manage to separate his smell flooding your panties and the sweet scent drifting from either side of your throat?—but Eddie would rather be sure, be over cautious than to have to bare his teeth and fight a cluster of brain-dead morons over his omega.

Again.

So, during the transition from 4th period to lunch, Eddie made quick work of spilling himself into your panties for the umpteenth time—your poor panties unable to contain the constant flood of fluids—and as a stray drop of cum made its way slowly down the inside of your thigh, Eddie’s pointer finger was quick to scoop it up.

With his nose pressed against your cheek, still breathing heavily from having cum so many times in so few hours, Eddie’s finger was shaking as he held it between both of your eyes. Letting your gentle gaze settle on the glob—barely a drop compared to the ocean of cum nestled against your cunt—and watched as it slowly slid down his finger towards his palm.

“I can still smell you.” Eddie’s growl sent shivers down your spine, your whole body shaking in his hold. The displeased tone in your alpha’s voice digging into your submissive brain. A small whimper slipped from your lips, as Eddie’s curled in anger. “If I can, those meatheads can. So sweet, like fucking sugar. You smell like a damn dream, angel, what am I supposed to do with you?”

Unable to answer, all you could do was what your instincts asked you to—submit and hope for mercy.

Whimpers continued to pour from your lips.

A gentle “please..”

You tipped your head back, scalp scratching against the painted brick of the bathroom you two were stowed away in—and bared your throat.

Eddie’s huff was loud, the puff of hot air fanning across your clammy skin. And when you expected Eddie’s sharp teeth to tear a new mark into your throat, his gentle touch was entirely unexpected.

His cum-covered finger softly traced your jaw line. Just below your ear, and brushing over the gland hidden just below your soft skin. Tenderly stroking the skin as if he were applying a perfume—to Eddie, he might as well have been—he did the same to the other side of your neck.

Replacing his finger with his thumb, Eddie’s was kind as he rubbed his cum onto you. The sheer liquid blending out with your skin easily, disappearing before his hard eyes.

But the smell—his smell—stayed obvious as ever.

Nosing your glands, Eddie was pleased to find his scent was now overpowering the sweet smell you oozed.

Your scent was still there. Much less obvious, now. But Eddie would always be able to find that nectar-like scent anywhere.

But to anyone else, you would simply smell like an Eddie Munson duplicate.

For the first time in the last five hours, Eddie would smile, a genuinely pleased smile, “There, you smell just like me, now. C’mon, let’s go find some food. You’ll need the energy for later, baby. You did so good for me, my perfect little omega, so good.”

Or.

When he isn’t fucking you at every conceivable opportunity, Eddie is determined to ruin your delicious, tempting omega scent for any foolish alpha that would dare look your way—knowing you were claimed—and know you were his and his alone.

After gym, when Eddie’s dripping with sweat and testosterone and pheromones—he seeks you out. Or stalks you out, rather. Knowing where you would likely be relaxing in between periods, but finding it much more thrilling to let his nose guide him, your sickly sweet scent being so easy to pick out from the sea of his peers as he follows it to the dusty library.

He’s breathing hard, very much audible through the quiet room full of books when he spots you—tucked away in the furthest corner—and with Eddie’s scent quickly dominating the stuffy room, his heart quickly warms with pride when he watches you tilt your head back slightly, carefully sniffing the air before excitedly turning and beaming at him.

My mate. His heart sings. Mine.

He’s on you before you could even rise from your chair, strong hands grasp your upper arms and pull you to him.

Your nose pressed right into the hallow of his throat, his natural scent and sticky sweat filling your senses and clouding your mind—your instincts having you tuck yourself under his chin, enjoying Eddie’s wide frame that seemed to cover you entirely.

His gym clothes—a simple plain tee shirt, and shorts—and soaked with sweat, his shirt nearly see-through. Eddie pressed you so tightly to his lean torso, his sweat transferring onto your own shirt, dampening the fabric with the overwhelming smell of Eddie.

The way Eddie nuzzles against your hair is uncharacteristically sweet for an alpha. But the purpose behind said action, screamed dominance.

Wiping the sweat rolling down his face against your head, the strands of now damp hair clinging to Eddie’s face as he hunches over to continue. Pushing his nose against your throat so hard it’s momentarily difficult to breath until he’s moved his focus to your shoulders, exposed by your sleeveless top.

Eddie lulled his tongue across the long-since healed bite mark, his claim. Leaving a thick trail of spit in his wake.

For a brief moment, Eddie appreciated the beautiful mix of marks he’d left the night before that still lingered along your throat and shoulders, accentuating his mark.

Carefully sniffing your warmed skin, Eddie was pleased to find very little of your own precious omega scent, nearly entirely covered up by his own smell.

“Better.” Eddie hummed. A low growl of pride rumbled in his chest, vibrating against your head and filling your mind. Your own purr of contentment was music to Eddie’s ears. “Much better.”

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: New Hire [6]

previous chapter

Pairing: Alpha!Mob!Ari Levinson x Naive!Omega!Reader

Summary: After escaping your demanding, violent father, you get your first job nannying for Ari Levinson.

Warnings: Manipulation, Spanking, Mob AU, Obsessive behavior, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Ari, Dubcon, Darkfic, Breeding, Smut, MINORS DNI, Dead dove: Do not eat

A/N: hello everyone! back from my little hiatus with a brand new chapter of New Hire. i’ve been getting soooo many asks about this series, i’m so stoked everyone’s enjoying it so far! this chapter’s a little long, and… smutty, so… drink water 🤣 divider by @firefly-graphics​

This work is entirely unbeta’d, and unedited. Though I don’t own any of Marvel’s characters, this work and the plot contained inside are entirely mine. I do not consent for this work to be posted anywhere else by anyone but me. Enjoy 😘

You wake with Ari curled around your back, soft snores rumbling in his chest. It isn’t often that he’s not up before you, already waiting downstairs despite your best efforts to beat him there. His hand rests heavily on your hip, his fingers curled underneath the skimpy hem of your new pajamas. You shift, and his grip tightens instantly. Ari mumbles something in his sleep, and you giggle silently, trying hard not to wake him. 

 Turning in his arms is no easy feat but you manage, resting your palms against his chest. You’ve never really gotten to observe him at rest before; even relaxed Ari is at attention, ready to move to act if the situation were to suddenly require it. His golden hair is tousled, laying messily across his forehead. His lips are slightly parted, and you can hear the sound of his breath whispering though them. 

 He’s so handsome.

 You know your mate is attractive—you’ve known it since you first laid eyes on him. But watching him like this, he seems, you don’t know, softer. Less hard lines and jagged edges. There’s an embarrassed sort of pride that rears its head at the thought that this man had chosen you, out of every other possible option. 

 You. 

 Before you realize what you’re doing, you’re tracing the curve of his cheek with the back of your hand. He stirs with a groan, his nose wrinkling. 

 “Mm, Kitten,” he mumbles, eyes opening to slits. “Wha’ time’ssit?” You giggle, and he lets out a sleepy, frustrated hmph.

 “Early,” you answer quietly, laughing again when he groans, pulling you tighter to his chest and burying his face in your hair. Ari heaves a satisfied sigh. He’s comforted by having you so close, you can feel it in the bond. 

 “Go back to sleep,” he instructs sternly, and you laugh again. “S’too early.” The last few days had been hectic, Liam bouncing off the walls while Ari prepared for your surprise—and while you did your best to forget the sound of a man begging for his life. You feel guilty, mostly because you don’t feel as shameful and penitent as you probably should. 

 Every time the guilt begins to creep in, you remember Liam’s frightened face, and your own feral panic. 

 He deserved what he got, murmurs the dark, feral voice living in your hindbrain. Deserved it ten times over. Ari’s warm hands draw you out of your own head, the silky fabric of your new nightie bunching underneath his touch. 

 “Can hear you thinking from here, Omega,” he chastises you in a voice still gravelly from sleep. “You’re not sleeping.” Your cheeks heat so rapidly, you wonder if he can feel them smoldering against his chest. It’s not that you aren’t tired—you are. Your brain just hasn’t let you get a single moment of rest in since you’d found yourself awake just before sun-up. You just can’t stop turning the events of the last month over in your head, like you’re still trying to get a grip on them. 

 Something has happened to you in these past few weeks. Something that’s continuing to happen the longer you find yourself in the company of your mate. The slow but persistent eroding of beliefs you’d previously considered to be unshakeable. That right was right and wrong was wrong, and those lines couldn’t be confused or crossed. But now the lines are blurry and runny like paint, and it’s hard for you to tell which is which—if there was ever really a difference. 

 “Talk to me, Kitten.” You make a surprised noise in the back of your throat, twitching against him as you sink deeper into his warmth. His lips move gently against your temple. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” 

 “Just… everything,” you say quietly, glad you don’t have to find a way to avoid Ari’s searching gaze, pressed against his chest as you are. “M-my father, and Peter, and…” You trail off, not wanting to mention Clarence’s head becoming red paste on the concrete outside. 

 “Mm.” Ari hums low in his throat. “Quill is… certainly a problem.” He rolls over onto his back. Ari scrubs a hand down over the scruff of his beard tiredly. You curl up against his side, resting a timid hand on the hard planes of his chest. You remember him the way he was on the playground; determined, stubborn. 

 “Do you think… he’ll stop now?” You ask hopefully, glancing up at Ari. He leans down to kiss your forehead once again. 

 “I don’t think so, Kitten.” You can tell he wants to lie, to reassure you that it’s over, but that he can’t quite bring himself to do so. 

 “Why?” Ari looks uncomfortable, like he doesn’t want to answer. 

 “Because men in our positions don’t like to give up something for nothing, Kitten.” You feel a cool shiver run down your spine at his words. “And for Quill, sweetheart, you represent quite an investment.” 

 You can’t stop thinking about it, even after Liam has roused the two of you from your nest of sheets and blankets. 

 An investment. 

 Was that all you had been to your father, too? An investment? Something to use to trade up at the most lucrative opportunity? It keeps you distracted all day, long after Ari leaves for work. You try to keep Liam occupied, but fail as he runs circles around you easily while you’re preoccupied. 

 “Um, can I go over Mary’s house?” He asks you as he wolfs down the peanut butter sandwich you made him for lunch. There’s peanut butter smeared across one of his round little cheeks as he looks up at you with imploring eyes. You raise an eyebrow at him. 

 “Oh? Am I not cool enough for you?” You ask jokingly, and Liam, ever serious, shakes his head. You’re about to ask him what exactly constitutes cool when your phone begins vibrating in your pocket. “Hello?”

 “Kitten, are you busy?” Ari’s voice filters through the receiver. 

 “No,” you reply. “Well, only if you count getting a lesson in how uncool I am from a six year old.” 

 “Ouch.”

 “Yeah.” He chuckles at your response. 

 “I don’t suppose you could take a break from that to swing by the office with my work phone, could you sweetheart? I left it in the bedside table, that first drawer.”

 “Oh, um, sure. I could do that.” 

 “Thanks, Kitten.” Ari’s satisfied purr makes a little shiver travel down your spine. 

 “I guess you get off light today, sir,” you say to Liam, stowing your cell back in your pocket. “You get to go to Mary’s while I run an errand for Dad.” You haven’t been to the office often, maybe once or twice in the months since you’d been hired—not counting your interview. Come to think of it, you know remarkably little about Ari’s business exploits and where his money comes from, despite how easily he wants you to spend it. 

 It doesn’t take much to get Liam ready to go. You instruct him to pick out two—and two only—of his favorite toys to bring with him while you head upstairs to look for Ari’s phone. It’s precisely where he said it was, in the first drawer in the bedside table. You pick it up gingerly, squeaking a little with surprise as the screen lights up at your touch. It’s locked, of course, but you can still see bits of messages, unchecked notifications. 

 You don’t mean to look—really, you don’t—but you can’t help it, your eyes drawn down by a new notification flashing across the screen. It’s a number you don’t recognize, and one Ari doesn’t have saved. Your breath catches in your tight throat as you read them, hot tears gathering in your wide eyes. 

 Unknown Number: It’s a good offer. You won’t receive better, not for an Omega that’s been…used. 

 Your heart pounds in your chest. What offer? The urge to curl in on yourself grows. Perhaps you are too much trouble after all, more than you’re worth, and Ari’s finally realized it. Your own father hadn’t seen you as anything more than a bargaining chip, and the realization that Ari might be the same makes the blood curdle into shards of sharp ice in your veins. Your stomach rolls as you re-read the message. Used. Is that what Ari thinks of you?

 The phone vibrates again and you almost drop it, sniffling. 

 Unknown Number: I won’t wait long for an answer, you know, Levinson. And neither will Senator Ego.

 “Are we going?” Liam’s irritated whine makes your head snap up, and you wipe furiously at your wet cheeks. You hope your smile is convincing as you nod at him, unable to speak. You don’t trust your voice not to tremble and crack, so you refrain from saying anything at all as you pack Liam’s bag with trembling hands. Ari wasn’t supposed to be like your father, he was supposed to be different, better. 

 Act like a whore, get treated like a whore, your father’s venomous words play on an endless loop in your skull, no matter how many times you try to stop it. It’s the same thing he’d said to you after you dragged yourself back to the trailer from the homecoming after-party you weren’t supposed to attend, your dress muddy from the dirt under the bleachers and Philip Baker’s spend drying on your thighs. 

 That’s what he’d called you in the driveway too—a whore. Is that what you are? 

 There’s bile, burning acid in your throat as you walk stiffly up the steps to Frank Adler’s house. House isn’t really the right word for it, somewhere between “home” and “mansion”. You pick nervously at your fingernails after ringing the bell, pulling at your nail-beds until you wince. 

 “Mr. Levinson, I’ve been expecting you,” Frank greets Liam as he opens the door. Liam giggles and hides behind your legs. “Mary says she’s ‘sourced the part’, and I hope it’s not something I need to be concerned about.” He raises an eyebrow. Liam shakes his head profusely. 

 “We’re building a secret clubhouse.” He whispers, and Frank nods knowingly. “Don’t tell Mary I told you.” 

 “I won’t. I promise I don’t go into my own backyard all that much.” He says resolutely, and motions for him to come inside. “How are you?” Frank shifts his gaze to you, and without Ari there to deflect, you’re uncomfortable with the attention. Maybe that’s why he wants to ditch you. Stupid. Naive—

 “I’m fine.” The words come out stilted. “Just. Running an errand. For Ari.” 

 “Of course.” He looks down at Liam’s bag with a squint. “You packed heavy.”

 You force a smile. “I like to be prepared.” Frank smiles back at you, and you swallow thickly. 

 “Of course.” He repeats it, and you look down at Liam. 

 “Have fun, bud.” He grins up at you in a way that makes your heart ache.

 “Okay!”

 Your hands are shaking as you get the keys back out of your pocket. Ari wants you to come to the office, but you have no intention of doing that. Hot tears gather in your eyes as you navigate out onto the street. You can’t stay parked at Frank’s, but you don’t want to go to Ari. It’s not even an option to go to your father—and you don’t know where he is, even if it was. 

 You drive aimlessly for half an hour before you decide on a direction, ignoring the incessant buzzing of both your phone and Ari’s in the glove compartment until you’re forced to shut them off. There’s a twinge of his concern in the bond, but you shut it down quickly, and immediately feel its absence. 

 The house you’re looking for is on the corner after the next left you take, and you pull haphazardly into the spot out front. You’re still crying, staccato breaths making your chest hurt as you lean your forehead against the steering wheel. 

 You don’t know why you remember this address, considering you’ve only been here one time. Sessions are normally at the old bank building, since converted into offices, but you’d been here once when the office flooded, and Dr. Nicholson was forced to accommodate you elsewhere. Even so, it stuck in the gray matter of your brain, and now here you were, months later. 

 Shifting nervously from foot to foot, you wrap your arms around your middle after knocking. You’re considering leaving, fleeing back to the car when the door opens. 

 “I-I’m sorry. I just, I didn’t know where to go.” Dr. Nicholson stares at you in open shock, before she pushes her square glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I’m—I know this was supposed to only be for emergencies, and I, I—” She places a warm hand on your shoulder. 

 “Please come in.” 

 —

 Ari knows something is very wrong before Frank calls, but seeing his friend’s name appear on his personal phone drives home the worry. 

 “What’s wrong? Is it Liam?”

 “No, no, he’s fine. He and Mary are building some kind of clubhouse outside, and as far as I know there’s no power tools involved. No, it’s your mate. She seemed… I dunno. Upset. Squirrelly.” 

 Ari’s fist clenches against the desk. “How long ago did you see her?”

 “Ten. Fifteen minutes maybe.”  He curses. 

 Ari reaches out through the bond, and he feels you shut him out quickly, tasting only an echo of your fear before the link is dead and cold. 

 “Thanks, Frank. I’ll check on her.” He’s up and out of his chair before he hangs up. 

 What spooked you? Obviously seeing him kill a man hadn’t done wonders for your relationship, but he had been making real progress. Martine is waiting outside the office doors, her fist poised to knock.

 “Oh! Sir. I have—”

 “Leave it on my desk, please,” Ari replies, cutting her off with a grim smile. “I have an urgent family matter to attend to.” 

 “I see. Yes, sir.” 

 Ari takes the stairs down to the parking lot, slamming the door too hard on his way into the stairwell. He’d told you about leaving without telling him, about going places alone, unprotected—no. It won’t do to get angry with you, that won’t help him find you. According to Frank, you’d dropped off Liam and left, hadn’t mentioned anything about where you were going or why. 

 He gets into the car, dialing your number while he slots the key into the ignition with his other hand. It goes straight to voicemail. You haven’t set it up yet, and the robotic default greets him stiltedly. 

 “The number you have dialed is not available. Please leave a message after the beep. Have a wonderful day.” 

 “Kitten it’s me, it’s Ari.” He lets out a heavy breath. “Sweetheart you’re scaring me. You didn’t come to the office, you’re shutting me out…” He trails off before carding his fingers through his hair. “I can’t fix it if I don’t know what’s wrong.” He hangs up, and is dialing again as he pulls out of his parking space. One hand grips the steering wheel hard enough to force the blood out of his knuckles, and the other holds the phone. 

 It doesn’t even ring this time before it goes straight to voicemail. 

 “The number you have dialed is not available—”

 “Fuck!” He throws the phone into the passenger seat, hard. “Fuck.” He isn’t used to this, the frantic, nervous energy running through his veins, begging him to do something, anything—only he doesn’t know what to do. There are a thousand thousand scenarios, each running through Ari’s mind on their own terrible loop. Could Quill have had you picked up? Perhaps sent your father sniffing around again? He slams a fist against the dashboard. He’d felt your confusion, your upset and pain before you’d cut him out completely, and they stick in his throat, making it tight and uncomfortable. 

 He isn’t used to feeling this out of control, to not having the pieces adjusted on the board to his liking. Ari nervously fingers the silver chain peeking out from between the undone buttons at the collar of his shirt, poking the Star of David’s points into the fleshy pads of his fingers. Ari tries to calm down, breathing deeply as he pushes the unfamiliar feeling of panic down and away. 

 There’s still so much of your fear and uncertainty in the bond that it makes his chest ache. He sits there in the car, his eyes shut and hands on the steering wheel as Ari pokes at the bond again. The hard wall you’d drawn down between you was no longer quite as solid, the barest hint of your feelings trickling through the cracks. You’re safe—he exhales a sigh of relief. Not happy, but the turmoil you’d felt earlier had dissipated.

 And then, suddenly, it’s like a lightbulb turning on in his head—Ari knows exactly where you are. 

 —

 “You’re overwhelmed. And it makes sense, given everything you’ve told me.” Dr. Nicholson pats your knee with a reassuring smile. “I mean, last we spoke, you didn’t even have a boyfriend, and here you are with a mating mark, and a son, all at the same time. It can’t be easy.” You’d been on her couch for the last three hours, something of an extreme-emergency session to make up for the ones you’d missed in the weeks since your life had turned completely on its head. There had always been a reason to reschedule—Liam needed you, Ari needed you, something needed doing or finishing or starting, and you’d quickly become lost in the shuffle. 

 Your eyes are still red and puffy from the hysterical tears that had stopped an embarrassingly short time ago, around the first cup of tea Dr. Nicholson had brought for you—you were now well into your third. It’s embarassing, to be told what you’re feeling, but it’s so hard for you to pick through the maze of emotions you’d never really been allowed to acknowledge or share on your own. It makes sense now, to hear her say it. Overwhelmed. That’s exactly what you’d been feeling. 

 The knock at the door surprises both of you, and you jump, glancing nervously in the direction of the sound. Dr. Nicholson offers you a calm smile. 

 “I’ll get it. I’m sure it’s fine, you just stay here and relax.” You nod meekly, taking another sip of tea as you mull over your latest enlightenments. 

 “You’re a people pleaser. It’s okay, lots of us are. Because of the way you were required to manage your father’s emotions when you were only a child, and especially after your mother passed. You deserve to make choices for yourself. What do you want? What are your needs?”

 You bite your lip, running your finger around the rim of the mug. You don’t know. Dimly, you’re aware of the sound of the front door opening, but that isn’t what jolts you to attention. It’s like electricity passes through the bond, forcing it all the way open as you gasp—

 Ari is here. You know it as surely as you would know he was standing behind you. Goosebumps appear on your bare arms, and you rub them nervously as you listen to the sound of muffled voices with your heart in your throat. The sound of footsteps makes you jump up from your seat in the weathered old armchair. You’re not entirely sure what you want to do with your hands, so you tighten your grip on the handle of the mug until it hurts. 

 When Dr. Nicholson re-enters the room, her mouth is set into a grim line, tight at the corners. 

 “I… Well, I wanted to inform you that your mate is here,” she says, and you nod. She’s only confirming what you already know. “I know we talked about some very sensitive things, and I just wanted to make sure you know that you have agency, in your life and in your… relationship. You don’t have to do things just because someone else says you do.” She casts a rather reproachful look down the hallway. 

 “Thank you.” You scratch absently at the mark on your throat—it’s warm to the touch. “I’ll try to remember that.” 

 Ari is waiting for you on the porch, his arms folded over his broad chest as he leans against the bannister. His face is schooled into an expression of neutral calm, and if not for the tension coiling tight like a spring in the foundations of the bond, you might have believed it. Your gaze drops nervously down to your shoes as Ari stands up straight, his footfall heavy on the wooden slats as he approaches you. 

 “Kitten.” He slides a finger beneath your chin, tilting your head up. Slowly, he turns your head from side to side, his fingers trailing over his mark as he checks you over. You swallow thickly. “Are you hurt?” He asks, and you shake your head. 

 “N-no.” 

 He watches you in silence for a moment, before he turns sharply on his heel. 

 “Let’s go.” 

 You try to make yourself as small as possible as you walk back to the car, your shoulders hunched and your head down. You don’t want to draw any attention to yourself, not now when you can almost feel his fury as if it was your own. He ignores the Jeep you haphazardly parked out front, and you’re too anxious to ask him if he wants you to drive it home. Instead, you slide silently into the passenger seat of his car. You watch him make his way around to the driver’s side door as you anxiously twist your fingers together, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

 You spend the majority of the ride in silence, sneaking furtive glances over at your quiet mate. When he pulls in to the driveway at the house, Ari cuts the engine, but doesn’t get out of the car. 

 “Why did you do that, Kitten?” He asks quietly, his hands still wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. When he does look at you, cold hard lead settles into the pit of your stomach. 

“I thought…“ He trails off, scoffing, and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I thought something happened to you, that fucking Quill—!” He cards a hand through his hair and blows out a breath. 

 “I saw the texts.” You mumble quietly, staring at your knees as you clench your hands into angry, fearful fists of your own. “T-the offer you were considering.” The silence that reigns between you is so empty that you feel forced to fill it. “An Omega that’s been used.” You spit the words out angrily as you curl into yourself. “Is that what-what I am to you?” 

 “Oh, Kitten.” Ari scrubs a hand down his face. “You weren’t supposed to see that.” 

 “That seems to be a thing with you.” You clap a hand over your own mouth. Those were not the words you’d meant to say. Something soft and accommodating was supposed to come out, not…that. 

 “Watch it.” He snaps, narrowing his eyes at you. You’re afraid of incurring his anger, but there’s another emotion there too, one you don’t really let yourself feel as often as you should. 

 You’re angry. 

 “You watch it! You—you don’t tell me everything,” you argue. You can tell that Ari is as surprised by your persistence as you are. “Y-you keep secrets from me, and, and you expect me to just… do whatever you want be-because you say so, and—” You know you’re rambling, and Ari holds up a hand to silence you. 

 “Kitten if you think after everything I’ve done to keep you that I’m letting go now, I… I must not have shown you who I am as well as I thought I did.” Ari braces his arms against the steering wheel, and blows out a frustrated breath. “It’s true, I don’t tell you everything,” he admits. “You’re… you scare easy, Sweetheart. Look at today.” 

 Your cheeks grow hot. “If I had known what was going on, I wouldn’t have 

left,” you say indignantly, and Ari scoffs. 

 “You can’t do that to me.” He levels you with a hard look. “You know you could have come to me, asked questions, instead of assuming.” You don’t have a response for that. “Kitten I was fucking terrified. I couldn’t find you, couldn’t feel you. I thought… I don’t know what I thought.” He shakes his head, and you swallow against the thick lump in your throat. You hadn’t thought, really, about what it might feel like for him to be shut out of the bond, left in the dark without a word. The bright flame of righteous anger burning in your chest dims. 

“Quill could have picked you up, anything could have happened to you,” he chastises you. “I can’t protect you when you run from me, Kitten.” He slips a finger under your chin, forcing you to look at him. “How can I keep you safe if you don’t trust me?” The space behind your eyes burns with hot, unshed tears.  

“Yes, one of Ego’s men contacted me.” He runs a hand through his hair. “But I needed to make sure I knew who our allies were before I responded, Kitten.” 

 You do trust Ari—or at least, you thought you did. You’d been scared, only thinking of your own self-preservation.

  “I do trust you,” you say in a small voice. “I just…” you trail off, struggling to put words to the emotions swimming around in your skull. “My whole life, my parents told me I had one thing to offer. Just one. And when I saw those messages, Ari, they scared me, okay?” You admit, your teeth sinking into your lower lip. “They scared me because I thought he was right. That… that I gave you what you wanted, and you’d be done with me, now.” 

 “Kitten.” Ari ducks his head until he finds your gaze, and holds it. “I put a man in the dirt for you. Do you really think I’d trade you after that?” Hot guilt warms your face. “If there was even chance that I thought this,” Ari gestures between the two of you, “wasn’t going to work, I would never have marked you.” 

 Ari is a man of his word, you know that. Every promise he’s made you, he’s kept—it’s more than anyone else has ever given you. You… you care about Ari, enough to not want to hurt him. Enough to try and keep the promise you had made him, that you would let him show you how good life with him could be. 

 “I’m sorry.” You mean it. 

 “I know, Kitten.” Somehow, his disappointment is worse than his anger. Ari unbuckles his seatbelt, and tugs the keys out of the ignition. The two of you exit the car, and head into the quiet house. You’re not quite sure what to do with yourself, and you flutter just at the edges of the room, watching Ari move through it. The tension he feels is written in his neck and shoulders. He reaches up to rub stiffly at them with one hand while he opens the fridge with the other. You watch as he twists the cap off of a beer bottle. 

 “Liam’s going to stay at Frank’s tonight,” he says over his shoulder. “We’ll go get him tomorrow.” There’s only a counter between you, but it feels like a continent. He’s right here, and he hasn’t blocked you from the bond, but it feels like you’re alone. You approach him tentatively, and though he doesn’t stop you, he makes no move to welcome you, either. 

 “Ari?” He takes another sip from his beer. You place your hand softly on top of his on the counter, and he doesn’t pull away. “I—I should have trusted you, and I didn’t. I’m sorry.” You’re tempted to touch the mark on your throat but you don’t. His gaze softens just a little, and he takes another swallow.

 “You mean that?”

 You nod. “Yes.” Ari drains the bottle, and sets it on the counter with a sharp click. “I-I really am sorry—” Ari hushes you, holding up a hand. Your breath and the words you were going to say both catch in your throat. Ari grasps your chin, and for a moment he just looks at you. You feel judged, and you can only hope you don’t come up wanting. 

 “Get upstairs.” He says sharply after a moment of holding your gaze. His thumb passes over your parted lips. “You’re going to show me just how sorry you are, Omega.” 

 You gape at him for a moment, almost asking if he’s serious, but the hard set of your mate’s jaw tells you that question would not be well received. You scramble up the stairs, but Ari isn’t behind you. You pause at the top of the stairs, waiting for him to come around the curve, but you don’t see him. The setting sun has painted the room in molten orange. You perch yourself at the edge of the bed in a pool of it, fiddling with the delicate pendant at your throat. 

When he does walk through the door, he barely spares you a look. He undoes his tie with sure fingers, and begins on the buttons of his shirt. You lick your lips nervously. 

 “Ari?” The look he fixes you with is icy enough to make you regret saying anything.

 “I don’t remember telling you to speak.” There’s a cruel, almost mocking edge to his words that makes you shiver. Your mouth snaps shut audibly, and his lips curl into a cold smile. “Good girl.” He takes a painfully long time with the buttons, slowly undoing each one. 

 “Kitten you made me very angry today,” Ari says as he folds the shirt over his thick forearm. “Do you know why?” Your tongue feels like sandpaper against the roof of your mouth as you swallow dryly. 

 “I… I shut you out,” you say tentatively, and Ari inclines his head, like he’s imploring you to continue. “And I broke my promise.” 

 “That’s a start.” He lays the shirt neatly across the dresser. “What else?” 

 “I left without telling you?”

 “Kitten you put yourself in danger.” Ari folds his arms across his chest and frowns at you. “Come.” It isn’t an Alpha command, but it doesn’t matter. Your body lurches into motion anyway. You stand in front of him nervously, and Ari fingers the hem of your shirt as his nose wrinkles. 

 “Take this off. All of it.” He watches you with dark, unreadable eyes. You’ve never seen Ari this angry with you before—naively, you had thought perhaps that he would never be. You’re still nervous to stand there in front of him, and you’re tempted again to speak, but you resist the urge. 

 It’s a strange and thrilling intersection, your fear of your mate’s reprisal and your body’s response to his need to exert dominance. You cock your head to the side, submissively exposing the side of your throat. Ari makes a low, appreciative noise, trailing his fingers across the healed mark at the juncture of your neck and shoulder. You still aren’t used to the wanton heat that is steadily growing at the apex of your thighs at the intensity of Ari’s scent, aren’t used to the wild, rampant need he inspires in you. 

 You know he can scent it, the way his nostrils twitch and his pupils dilate. There is almost as much being said without words as with them, you realize as you watch him. He’s not going to give you orders or instructions—he wants you to prove how sorry you are, to reaffirm that you’re his, that you want to be. He’s still angry, you can see it in the stiffness of his jaw, the square set of his shoulders. He’s waiting—waiting to see what you’ll do. 

 Ari doesn’t stop you when you reach for the button on his pants. You peek up at him through your lashes, waiting for reprisal that doesn’t come. The plush bedroom carpeting is soft under your knees when you drop to them, your mate silently watching as you pull his pants down his toned thighs. His cock is already half hard, the thick outline of it through his briefs makes your tongue dart out to wet your dry lips. 

 You trace the shape of him with your finger, and he throbs under your touch. As you slide the elastic band down, his cock bounces out, shiny precum beading at the tip. A soft, surprised breath escapes from between your lips, and your cheeks heat up with embarrassment when Ari laughs. He’s velvet smooth, veins throbbing hotly underneath the skin as you palm the heavy weight of his cock in your hands. 

 He hums with approval when you stroke him, straining to touch your thumb and forefinger around his girth. You lean forward, wetting your lips with your tongue before lapping tentatively at his head. Salty and musky but not unpleasant.

  Ari is watching you, you don’t need to look to confirm it. You can feel his eyes on you as you lean forward to close your lips completely around the head of his cock. His hips buck softly, forcing him deeper into your mouth. Emboldened, you cup the heavy weight of his sac in one hand, kneading it gently between your fingers. He hisses, pulling away, and the head of his cock slips from between your lips with a soft pop. You sit primly on your knees, watching as your mate palms his cock with a groan. 

 “Open your mouth, Omega. Tongue out.” You do as he says, opening your mouth wide as your tongue lolls out over your bottom lip. Ari taps his cock against the flat of your tongue, thrusting into your open mouth. He makes a lusty, appreciative noise deep in his throat and strokes your jaw with the back of his hand. 

“I wish you could see yourself, Kitten.” He says, pushing in until the head of his cock bumps the back of your throat. You gag around him a little and he curses under his breath, holding himself there for a second longer before pulling out. Your cunt clenches helplessly around nothing and tears gather in the corners of your eyes as Ari repeats the motion, sliding his cock back and forth over your tongue and down your throat. 

 There’s a growing buzz at the back of your skull, a pleasant hazy feeling that makes your eyelids droop as you nurse at Ari’s dick, tongue moving against his shaft. You tug softly at his balls, and Ari’s hips stutter, a low moan leaving his lips. 

 “Good, Kitten,” he praises you. The needy, feral thing in your hindbrain purrs excitedly. Alpha is pleased. “Need you just like this.” He thrusts all the way in until your nose bumps the trimmed hair at the base of his thick cock. Ari’s cock is halfway down your throat, drool leaking out of the corners of your mouth as you stare up at him with glassy, wet eyes. You struggle to breathe around him, short, shuddering breaths making your vision swim. Ari pulls out, stroking himself with an appreciative groan as he stares at your cock-drunk face. 

 “Bed.” You rush to obey, clamoring onto the mattress. “Present, for me, Kitten.” It sends a thrill through you, not to be able to see him as you press your forehead to the duvet, though you can feel him behind you. You shudder as he runs a finger down your soaked, messy slit, and he clucks his tongue at you. “Dripping,” he says, laughing. Embarrassment makes your face hot even as your cunt sucks at the tip of his index finger. “Enjoy sucking Alpha’s cock, Sweetheart?” When you don’t answer right away, he delivers a stinging slap that you hear before you feel, the cheek of your ass smarting.

 “Y-yes!” He soothes the sting with a gentle pass of his hand before he delivers another one. You squirm, yelping as you press your face into the mattress. 

 “Do you know why this is happening, Omega?” He asks, the palm of his hand cracking across your ass again as you let out a miserable moan. Ari’s fingers slip between the cheeks of your ass, playing at your entrance as you try to cobble together an answer. 

 “I-I d-didn’t trust A-alpha,” you whimper. You’re wetter than ever, his fingers making lewd squelching sounds as they slide through your folds. Ari pulls back only to strike you again with another sharp slap. 

 “And?”

 “A-and I—ah!” Ari’s palm connects again, and this time a sob leaks from between your trembling lips. The contrast between the thick fingers playing at your entrance and the stinging numbness is dizzying, and Ari doesn’t give you a chance to breathe, refusing to let up as he lays into you, hard. 

 “You made me worry about you,” he says, his voice low, angry. Another spank. “You shut me out.” Another, and another until you’re gasping for air, tears soaking into the sheets below you. 

 “I’m sorry! I’m sorry Alpha!” You cry, voice muffled as you wait for another round of harsh spanks that don’t come. Instead, you feel Ari’s arms encircle your waist, and you hiccough as he draws you against his chest. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pressing your face into the hollow of his neck, sniffling. 

 “This doesn’t happen again, Omega,” he says sternly, even as he presses his face into your hair. “Understand?”

 “Yes, Alpha,” you say meekly, lifting a trembling hand to wipe at your puffy cheeks. A low, pleased rumble emanates from his chest. 

 “Good.” Ari nudges your thighs apart with his hand, cupping your swollen, messy cunt against his palm. You mewl against his throat as he sinks two fingers into your wet heat, testing your readiness. You clench around them eagerly, and he chuckles. “My needy Omega,” he says. “You want me to split you open on my knot, don’t you Kitten?” You nod eagerly, and you can hear the smug grin in his voice. “Beg.” 

 You run your tongue across your dry lips. “Please, Alpha.” 

 “I can’t hear you.” You lean away from his neck, your face warm.

 “Please—”

 “Look at me.” Slowly, you drag your eyes up to his.  

 “Please, Alpha.” Ari says nothing, but you feel his grip tighten on your hips. It’s the only warning you get before he slams you down onto his cock. The words in your throat die in a ragged moan as his cock forces them out of you. The slight sting of his entry is more than made up for by the delicious fullness that makes you groan as he presses in as far as he possibly can, his teeth bared. Your thighs tighten around his hips, fingers digging into his shoulders as he ruts up into you. 

 “Kitten this fucking pussy,” he growls, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tugs your head to the side. “Can’t get enough.” You can already feel his knot swelling at the base of his cock, and the stretch of it makes your eyes roll. Warm, heady pleasure erodes most of your conscious thoughts, and Ari is driving it, pushing you further and further, as far as he can. 

 Your legs tremble and seize about his hips as you cum, sticky pleasure rolling down your nerve endings like honey as you float. Ari fucks you straight through, holding you tight enough to bruise as he buries himself inside you as far as he possibly can. His thick cock feels even thicker for the knot locking the two of you in place, and you shudder as his teeth slide into the mark at your neck. 

 He pants wetly against your throat, holding you still as the air cools between you. Ari traces patterns on your hip with his fingers, and you press a soft kiss to his collarbone. After a minute or two, he pulls back, his mouth leaving your throat. 

 “I really am sorry.” You say in a small voice, and he sighs, his arms tightening around you briefly before relaxing. 

 “I know, Kitten.” He sighs. “I shouldn’t have kept things from you.” You try hard not to look surprised. It isn’t often that your mate admits wrongdoing, and you know it isn’t easy for him to eat crow. “I’m going to try and be better about that.” 

 “I promise not to shut you out again.” You rest your head against his chest. “And you promise to be honest with me.” 

 “I promise.” 

 “Good.” 

to be continued…

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