#I'm just wrapping some gifts and had some thoughts

[beefcakekinard]

[special thanks to james @louisferrignojr for the idea]

There's buzzing in his ear.

Tommy slaps his hand onto his bedside table and drags it across the top in search of his phone. He finds it – his eyes are too blurry from sleep to see the time or the caller ID, but the dark outside tells him it's ass o'clock, and the only reason to be getting a call is an emergency. He hopes he swipes the right way to accept and brings the phone up to his ear.

"H'llo?" he asks, or tries to, with how his mouth feels glued shut. There's panting on the other end, something- some wet sound.

"Hey, Tommy."

Evan's voice wakes him up faster than any call from the station would.

"E- Buck? Are you okay?"

There's choked laughter on the other end, a sigh. "Mmm, I'm real good, just- just right, in fact." His voice is low, dragging on the syllables. He cuts himself off with a moan.

Oh.

Tommy tries to rub the sleep from his eyes. "I'm gonna go."

"What," Evan goads, "don't you miss- miss the way I, I sound when you fuck me?" Evan’s breath hitches in Tommy's ear. "This is, isn't the piece of you I w-wanted to keep but – ah-" Evan cuts himself off. The next few seconds have Tommy digging his fingers into his own thigh to the sound of Evan's breathing.

"Do, do you think I sh-should have-" Evan's voice breaks, Tommy's fingers ache, "should have put your cock in the box I s-sent Eddie over with earlier?"

Then it clicks.

That stupid clone-a-willy, sitting as a gag gift in the back of Evan's closet until three months ago. When Evan started getting curious about taking more than one cock at a time. When Evan, grinning wickedly, said hold that thought and dove off his bed. It made Tommy laugh at the time. He's not laughing now.

"Buck-"

"You don't call me that."

The vehemence is unexpected, but followed by more heavy breathing. There's a squelch in the background that Tommy can place, now, and he's going to leave bruises on his own leg if he grips any tighter. He focuses on it, the pain, purposefully dragging his attention away from how his cock aches in a decidedly different way.

Evan moans – satisfied, the way he does, did, when Tommy really focused in on his prostate. "You- god, Tommy, you feel so good."

Tommy can feel his resolve weakening like it's a physical thing. "Are you- have you been smoking, or-"

Evan laughs and Tommy feels it slip down his spine. "God. I had- had a couple drinks, dad. Or- sorry, daddy."

Tommy's resolve is all but a memory. He shoves his hand into his boxers and wraps his hand around his cock. It's a little unpleasantly dry, the friction dragging just a little too uncomfortably, but now that he has himself in hand, he doesn't have anywhere near the willpower to pull away, even for just a moment.

"Oh," Evan groans, and the sound is like the lick of a flame in Tommy's gut. "You- you touching yourself, daddy? Remembering what it, fuck, feels like to fuck me?"

Tommy squeezes his hand, tight, tighter, like the memory of the clutch of Evan's body around him. He takes long, hard pulls of his cock, squeezing himself at the tip to help slick the way little by little. It makes him think of how much Evan always leaks – the firehose, he always joked – like there's so much of him to give he's just welling up with it.

"What are you doing? You bouncing on it?" he asks, a man possessed. "Or are you greedy? Holding me to your prostate, using me to make yourself feel good?"

"Fuck," Evan cries out. His breathing gets sharper, shallower, faster. "Daddy, please-"

Tommy's hand races itself up and down his dick and his blood thrums in time with the sounds spilling from Evan's mouth into his ear. "Yeah, yeah, come on, you can get there, come on Evan-"

Evan whines and it vanishes into a groan as he comes, Tommy knows he's coming, and knowing that he brought Evan there has him grunting into his phone's microphone, has him spilling against his fist, into his boxers. Pleasure has never felt so sharp-edged.

Tommy breathes into the phone and relishes the sound of Evan doing the same. The moment stretches, bends the way it always does this time of night. He opens his mouth to speak.

The line clicks dead.

Tommy's left in the dark, his hand in his boxers, spunk drying on his skin.

He throws his phone to the floor.

[gotta-winwin]

2019 debut year <> first meetings - maknae line

word count: 2.1k TW: a bit of swearing, cyana is sad for some reason italics are in english and bolded words are in Mandarin this is a continuation from the hyung line fic, so please read that for continuity's sake!

౨ৎ ─── ─── ──౨ৎ─── ─── ──౨ৎ─── ─── ──౨ৎ

MINGHAO:

Although he had been all but ready to make fun of Jun when he was nervous and shy, Minghao found himself suffering just the same as Cyana approached him. Being the final member to meet her officially, he had the gruelling process of waiting as she slowly made her way through members before finally reaching him. "Hi. Nice to meet you, I'm Xu Minghao." He opted for a hug rather than a handshake, smiling when Cyana wrapped her arms comfortably around his waist. Parting, Cyana shot him a bright smile. "I'm so glad you and Jun speak Mandarin. I haven't met anyone besides my parents who knew the language." Minghao was glad to have brought her a sense of comfort. "We're just as happy. It's always nice to meet someone connected to home. Where in China are you from?" "My parents lived in Shenzhen before moving to Vancouver." Minghao's eyes widened and he glanced at Jun, who was lazily stretching, warming up for practice. "Jun's from Shenzhen too." Cyana followed his gaze, frowning when she saw the boy. "He's very quiet." She gathered. Minghao nodded, chuckling. "He's shy around strangers. He'll warm up, don't worry. He was quiet around me too, when we first met." He turned to look at her, studying her before continuing. "You're quiet too though, a little bit." Cyana flushed. "I don't really speak much, yeah. Prefer to listen most times." Honestly, Minghao didn't mind. He enjoyed the peaceful nature that seemed to radiate off her even within the short time they'd met. It was a change from the usual chaotic energy SEVENTEEN oozed of that Minghao accepted gratefully. "If it ever gets too much, Wonwoo and I are usually quieter company. We don't like doing too much outside of work." He didn't miss the way her face soured when he brought up Wonwoo's name. Cyana took his advice and invitation gratefully, promising to tell him if things ever got too much and to come find him whenever necessary. He savoured the look on her face, one of pure innocence and blissful unawareness of the tumultuous waves idol life could be. He distinctly remembered entering Korea with the same wide-eyed look on his own face and made a quiet promise he'd help keep that glow in Cyana's face as long as possible.

DK:

"Hi hi~" DK bounced up to Cyana, shaking her hand vigorously. He had heard Seungcheol's warning in the beginning -- to be calm and not to overwhelm the girl -- but he just had so much excitement to share! This was a day of celebration, having a new member join them, and it irked him a bit that the others were not treating it as such. "I'm Dokyeom, nice to meet you!" He sang, smile widening when Cyana moved to match his energy. "Hi, Dokyeom~" Cyana giggled at the boy's actions, unconsciously matching both his tone delivery and his movements, hands in his as they both jumped with excitement. She found it endearing, how energy seemed to spill out of him uncontrollably. "I wanted it to be a big celebration," He explained, pausing for Joshua to quickly translate. "I was going to order a cake, put up decorations, maybe some gifts-" Cyana protested profusely. "No, no- that's too much work." Deterred from his original train of thought by her sudden Korean, DK cooed, shaking her as he died at how cute it was. "Ah~ so cute!" Cyana blushed, unsure of what to do with the amount of attention DK was giving her. She was also hyperaware of the fact that he was still clutching her hands from before. Noticing how stiff her posture had gotten all of a sudden, DK immediately took a step back, unlatching himself from her and apologizing. Cyana shook her head. "No, no, it's okay. Just caught me off-guard." She sent him a warm smile. "This is nice." She admitted after a pause, enjoying how comfortable she was around him. She felt as if she had known Dokyeom for ages. DK sent back a blazing smile of his own. "Yes." He agreed happily, "So nice. So amazing. So unbelie-bubble." Cyana let out a loud laugh, startling everyone, including herself. It had been the loudest sound she'd made since entering the room. DK grinned, proud. Her laugh was really pretty, he realized. It made him want to make her laugh again just to hear it, to bathe in the warmth of it. Hell, he'd bottle it up if he could.

MINGYU:

Mingyu knew Wonwoo was hiding behind him. A coward, he mused, as he watched Cyana make her way slowly towards them. He couldn't understand why so many of them were nervous to meet her, Cyana was just a girl like so many others they had met before. "Hello~ I'm Mingyu." He opened his arms tentatively for a hug and felt both pride and relief when she had accepted. Okay, maybe he was a little nervous. He was scared she'd find him intimidating because of his sheer height and size. "You're- so tiny." He said, gesturing with his hand how short she was compared to him. Cyana gave him a look. "We've only just met and you're making fun of my height?" Mingyu spluttered, backtracking. "I- um." He pointed wordlessly at a cackling Vernon. "He teach me- to say." Vernon had insisted the line would be a good icebreaker. Now she seemed more amused then offended. "Ah~ I see. It's okay, I was only joking. You are very tall." He nodded, agreeing. "Yes. The most tall." He thought she seemed quite impressed by it all. "Your English is good!" She complimented, happy that they were able to carry a decent conversation on their own. He grinned. "Practice." He pointed at Vernon again. "Vernon." Cyana smiled. He liked making her smile, it brightened her face and the hint of sadness within her eyes disappeared when she did. Mingyu wondered what on earth could have made her so sad so early in the morning, but figured they were not close enough to directly ask. He didn't really know how to say all that in English anyways.

SEUNGKWAN:

Seungkwan found it both a bit endearing and amusing, the way Cyana was following behind him as they toured SEVENTEEN's floor. He likened her to a confused and intrigued cat, running her hands across the wall as he led her down the hallway towards the main lobby. Her eyes shone, and she was listening with full attentiveness at whatever he was saying. "This is- uh, recording studio, three recording studio, here." He pointed to the hallway to the left of them. "And here-" he paused, doing his best to recall the English word for 주방. "Here is kitchen. Eating~" He mimed eating food as Cyana nodded. He'd noticed that Cyana was very quiet and only ever talked if it was to answer a question. He didn't mind of course, many members had been like that too when they'd first met, but it confused him why a child actor would be so shy. "You are actor?" He asked, stopping in the lobby to get her response. He could almost feel the shift in the atmosphere the moment he asked the question. Cyana's shoulders tensed and she nodded. "In LA, yes." "That's cool." He offered lamely, not really knowing what else to say. Getting the sense that she didn't want to talk about the topic, Seungkwan gestured over to the large screen that overtook one of the lobby walls, currently displaying scenes from SEVENTEEN's music videos. "Seventeen." He said, still at a loss of words. It was rare for him not to know what to say, he prided himself in being good at filling silences, but this particular silence felt heavy and sad. He glanced at Cyana, who had her neck craned up as she watched the bright screen flash. The lights reflected against her irises and Seungkwan could swear she was holding back tears. Perhaps it was the homesickness, he deduced, scolding himself for bringing up her acting career. She had probably found it hard to leave everything behind. She turned to him and the heavy silence was gone. "These are all you guys?" She asked, pointing at the screen. Seungkwan nodded. "You guys are amazing." She marvelled. "So synchronized and captivating." "You." He pointed at the screen, having only understood the first compliment. "Soon." She smiled ruefully. "Hopefully. I wouldn't want to let you guys down." He wanted to let her know that he was sure the company had told her that everything was on her shoulders and that their success depended solely on her but the members wouldn't think that way. They'd all been there before, moments before debut and wondering if they'd somehow fail and disappoint the others. He wanted to tell her not to think like that. That she should be performing and working hard for herself and not because she had to. If he could say it in Korean and have her understand, he would have.

VERNON:

"Wassup, I'm Vernon." He shook Cyana's hand, confused when the girl seemed to be fixated on his face. "Is there something on my face?" He asked, reaching up to pat it. Cyana blinked out of her stupor. "Sorry. No, it's just-" She pointed at his sunglasses. "Why are you wearing sunglasses indoors?" "Oh." He took them off sheepishly. "I don't really know." Cyana let out a tiny laugh, gesturing for him to put them back on. "Keep them on, I didn't mean it in a judgemental way." Vernon placed them back on and Cyana couldn't help but laugh at how he seemed to just listen to her without thinking. Maybe it was the tie-dye tshirt or the terribly ripped jeans as well, but Vernon just seemed like a walking meme to Cyana and she found it incredibly funny. "Well, now I just feel like you're laughing at me." Vernon complained, although he was sporting a similar grin. Cyana shook her head, still laughing. "No, no, I swear I'm not." "Don't lie~ You so are." Vernon found that he liked the easy banter that seemed to flow seamlessly between them, realizing just how fast they seemed to click. "No, I'm laughing with you, not at you." "Right. You're going to tell me you actually enjoyed watching Birdbox next." Cyana's jaw dropped. "I actually really hate Birdbox." Vernon's eyes lit up. He'd tried using that line once on Joshua before, but the older boy hadn't understood what Vernon was getting at. "No fucking way." Vernon couldn't contain his excitement. "No one ever gets that reference." "You watch movies too then?" She asked, smiling when he said yes. If Seungcheol hadn't called everyone in for a group huddle before practice, Vernon would've whipped out his letterboxd to compare with hers right then and there. As if having a new member couldn't get any better.

DINO

Dino thrummed with anticipation as he patiently waited for his turn to speak with Cyana. She was really pretty, Dino observed, and she was really shy too. She seemed to interact with most of his hyungs with a sort of apprehension, as if secretly a little bit terrified. Dino couldn't blame her. He supposed they probably did look a little terrifying, all 13 of them when there was just 1 of her. "Hello~" He said, nervous when she approached him. "I'm Dino. And Chan. We're same, uh- old? age. Same age." His ears turned pink at his little stumble. Thankfully, Cyana didn't react to his mistake. "Really?" She said instead, lighting up. "I didn't know that. I've always wanted a friend my age." He thought for a little bit before replying. "Me too." He gave her a bright smile, praying that it'd make up for his poor English. Something about the fact that they were both the same age seemed to have soothed Cyana, as she took a step closer to Dino and held at her phone. "I- um, could you," She flushed as she tried to explain. "do you have the wifi?" Dino's shoulders relaxed, thankful it was a question he could answer. Taking the phone, he recognized her wallpaper to be a view of the Han River. Upon pointing it out, Cyana explained that she had passed by it on her way here and had fallen in love with how peaceful the waters were. He could understand what she meant. He often visited the Han River just to watch the current when he was a trainee. It served as a way to both relax and clear his mind. Handing the phone back, now connected to wifi, he mustered up the courage to ask her something before she could leave to say hi to someone else. "I- Han River. We can go, uh- together?" Cyana smiled and nodded. "Of course."

author's note: thank you so much for reading! thank you for all the love you've given this series and i'll be updating as much as possible. i've fallen in love with this universe and cyana lol.

[zanethegayboii]

Pt.1:

*ੈ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

"Relaxation"

A Stanford Pines x FtM!Reader one shot +18

Pt.2

*ੈ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

After talking more about your day, you two had finished eating. “Oh! I had almost forgotten!” Ford stands up from the table taking your plate and heads to the fridge. “I hope you like ice cream cake!” He turns around grinning ear to ear with a small ice cream cake that has the words ‘Relax’ on top.

“Oh my goodness, Ford!” You almost yell out while laughing at the surprise. “I will take that as a yes.” He puffs his chest out in pride. He takes the cake to the counter and cuts two pieces out of it. Placing them on a plate, you grab two forks from the drawer next to the fridge.

Ford starts to walk out of the kitchen with the plate. “Hey! Where are you going? Table’s over here?” You asked him curious. “O-Oh! Sorry I should've said something! There is a meteor shower tonight!” He gestures to the gift shop door.

“Oh yeah! I remember now you've talked about that all week. I can't believe I forgot!” You rub your neck in embarrassment and walk towards the gift shop door with Ford. He speeds up to properly open the door for you to go first.

“Little gentleman~” You wink at him, praising his actions. Ford's eyes go a bit wide at the praise and his cheeks flush a bit as you walk through the door. He follows right behind you and takes a seat on the musty, mildew ridden couch that sat on the porch.

You plopped down next to Ford making him bounce up a bit from the sudden movement. “Heh! It's so nice out tonight! I thought it was gonna be cloudy.” You cuddled up next to Ford as he unbuttoned a button from his suit to be able to sit a bit more comfortably.

“I thought so as well, I’m glad it cleared up!” He seemed to beam excitement and anxiousness as you two waited for the celestial event to start.

As you two start to dig into the cakes you see a glimpse of the meteor shower before Ford points and exclaims “It's starting!” He's staring off into the night sky; eyes widened with awe. It’s beautiful.

You look back down to see Ford staring back at you, his face lights up and he smiles. He's beautiful you think to yourself. You take your hand that had previously been wrapped around Ford's shoulder and brought it to his face.

You rub your thumb into his cheek; feeling the slight stubble on his face. It's soft and prickly at the same time. Smiling back, you bring your face closer to his. “It's beautiful, but not as beautiful as you are, Stanford Pines~” Your lips meet.

Ford hums into the kiss, his lips relaxed and he lets out a relaxed sigh. Melting into the kiss it felt so comfortable, so easy to kiss him. Almost like breathing, which you forgot how to do as you were kissing him.

Breaking the kiss your breath is heavy and you rest your forehead on Ford's. “Wow.. heh” Ford breathes heavily as he speaks. You look back at him, his eyes full of admiration and a hint of desire. “I love you, Stanford.”

Something switched in Ford's brain after you stated you loved him. He takes the fork out of your other hand and sets the plate and utensils down on the couch. Ford then takes your hand and lifts you to stand up, he then reaches around to your legs.

He picks you up with a huff, his back begins to ache from the weight of carrying another human being, but he is determined. “F-Ford what are you-?!” You stammer not expecting this 60 year old man to just pick you up like he did.

“I'm taking you to my lab.” His voice was low and a bit gruff. “For what?! I thought we were watching the meteor shower?” As you squirm, Ford has a smug grin on his face. “You'll see, Love~” For some reason that simple statement made your face really hot.

(pt.3 will be more 18+, so be prepared :3)

[tiny-minecraft-rabbit]

Ooh! Please could you do Ethdubs with 10 or 20?

Etho moved around his kitchen, making his coffee with the old French press he hadn't touched since the day Doc had gifted it to him. He was tempted to turn his generator on just to power his coffee machine; but they were barely into late fall, the power outage caused by an accident involving a power line instead of the usual snowstorms that would cause two to three in a span of two months when winter hit. He didn't need to waste the gas when the power would be back on today and he only needed to fend off the cold with his own jacket and some coffee made with a French press and water heated on his gas stove.

He poured the small pot of boiling water into the French press, because void knows he doesn't actually have a kettle, and leaned back against the counter to let his coffee steep or whatever you were supposed to do with a French press.

It was the quietness of the moment that let him hear the soft scrap of wood, something that was usually so quiet it couldn't be heard over the usual bustle of his own movements let alone if he had something playing on the TV or his radio tuned to the news. He glanced at the board trim of his counter, a singular spot he had learned to find after many of visits from the second resident of the house. A little door, cut into the board trim, barely noticeable from the outside unless you knew where to look and even then it was pretty well blended into the grain of the wood. It was pushed open and his housemate, wrapped in his usual cloak covered in dried moss, dragged himself out.

The moment Bdubs saw him he was sent the fiercest glare he's ever gotten from him. Etho was really hoping he wasn't about to be blamed for the power outage. If Bdubs yelled at him about the cold he'd probably trudge right out to the generator and flip it on, and wouldn't that be annoying? Going the whole morning without flipping it on just to let a little guy bully him into it.

"Etho," Bdubs growled, crossing his arms the moment he was standing in the middle of the counter.

"Bdubs," Etho replied calmly, though after a moment he shifted his gaze and started glancing around the kitchen. Even at three (and a 3/8ths!) inches tall Bdubs had an intimidating glare.

"It's cold," Bdubs said shortly.

Etho hummed. "I thought you had the best insulated walls a borrower could ever have?" He questioned, directly quoting Bdubs from a few weeks ago.

"I do!" He was quick to defend. Offense to defense in an instance. "I- I just-! Why on Earth is it so freaking cold? You usually flip the generator on within the hour!"

It was still weird, but something he was getting intimately used to, hearing Bdubs talk about his usual habits. To Etho, they had only known each other a few months, having caught Bdubs when he was attempting to borrower while too sick to stand. Bdubs, however, had been in the home for about as long as Etho himself had. Years to memorize his schedule and habits and favorite foods. Bdubs knew him with an intimacy that very few people even got close to. He was slowly doing the same with Bdubs, learning each little thing about his housemate, to be able to pick up where and when he'd be and what he'd do and say. Getting to know every bit of him that he could.

"The power should be back on soon. It's not that cold, Dubs, you can wait it out."

"Maybe for you!" Bdubs shouted back, "Big oaf! You're big enough to heat up a whole room yourself."

Etho chuckled, "I'm really not."

There was a half second of silence, not anything anyone else would notice but Etho had gotten used to Bdubs' quick tongue that any moment of hesitation to think meant he was about to say something really interesting. "Well prove it then! If you're soo cold too, then I bet you couldn't warm me up."

His eyes immediately shot back down to the borrower. Bdubs was still arm crossed, still looking determined as ever to get what he wanted. Etho thought he had just wanted the generator back on, for the heater to start warming up his tunnels in the walls again. Seems he had something else in mind now.

Etho couldn't help the growing smirk, "Oh? Is that what this is about? Want me to warm you up?"

"N-No!" Bdubs replied, "Don't think I want this! I just think you're holding out on me. You could easily control the heat in the house and you're purposely making it cold to spite me! Now, I would be inclined to believe it's "not that cold" to you, cause the whole being a giant thing, but you insist you're freaking cold too. So, I know you're just being mean to be mean. How about that?"

Etho rolled his eyes. "Right. I see. Okay, I'll "prove" to you that I'm "cold"," he said, making the quotations with his fingers.

Bdubs either didn't notice or didn't care. "You better!"

Etho hesitated a moment, definitely still not used to picking up Bdubs, before setting his hand down on the counter. Bdubs had less of a moment of hesitation before climbing right on.

Bdubs blinked down at Etho's palm his own palms pushing into the skin (along with his knees), "What the heck? Why are your hands actually just as cold as mine?"

Etho slowly lifted Bdubs up, his other hand cupping around the back so there was one less side for Bdubs to tumble off of. "Told you."

Bdubs shot him a glare as he stood up. He looked around for a second before spying the sleeve opening of Etho's jacket. "Ah-ha!"

Etho had no clue what he was doing until Bdubs had shoved his entire hand down his sleeve. The little limb was cold against the warmed skin within his jacket.

"Just as I thought! You are holding out on me, your jacket is better than my moss- better at keeping in heat that is. My moss is the best in every other way, of course."

Etho sighed heavily. Bdubs was gunning to try and get into the jacket and that meant one of two actions. Either sticking Bdubs in one of the pockets until he complains about the amount of swaying and Etho takes him out for him to complain again OR Etho sits down somewhere and lets Bdubs curl up wherever he wants and Etho gets nothing else done until the power comes back on.

Then, Etho remembered another option.

He set Bdubs back down on the counter, ignoring his complaining, and flipped his jacket open. He has an inside breast pocket, one that he did not often use.

He dug his fingers in, making sure it was empty, and pulled out a packet of travel tissues and set it aside. With nothing else inside the pocket he scooped Bdubs back up. He gave the borrower a moment to realize what was happening, and when no actual complaints came out his mouth, he slipped Bdubs into the breast pocket and let his jacket sit against his chest again.

For just a moment the weight of Bdubs was heavy in his pocket. Especially as he readjusted and got comfortable, but soon it was as unnoticeable as the packet of tissues had been.

"You good, Bdubs?"

Instead of the usual shouting, Bdubs voice came out quietly, something so soft in the words, "Your heartbeat is so loud..."

"Wh- What was that?" Etho asked.

There was some sputtering and then, "Nothing! Just that I was right! This is much warmer. I am a genius."

Etho let the blush creep away from his face, chuckling softly, "Yeah. You're a real genius."

[gigglesis]

Oh, to be wrapped up with a bow and tossed under the tree just to be found and...

[mildmayfoxe]

i was feeling absolutely awful earlier (in the brain) but made myself leave the house & take a little walk to to catch the closing sale at the local employee-owned art store before it’s closed for good and while there i got some different papers and, miraculously, some relief ink (fully expected it to be wiped out) (half price!) (see below) PLUS i also got the phone number of the manager who’s a friend of a friend & ive run into at markets- she told me she’d put more ink aside for me if i let her know which ones i was thinking about 😭

and then on my walk home i accumulated various food objects:

and then when i GOT home there was a box from my sister full of christmas gifts incl. LOTS of tea from both my siblings (i asked them for local chais) & a bunch of the snacks i’d got from nuts dot com for THEM that they apparently tried first & then sent to me

so all is not lost. peace & love on planet earth

[phantomrose96]

Okay I have a story.

So my birthday is this Sunday (May 26th). My mom ordered some presents for me but one of them (an Etsy purchase) was seemingly stuck in transit and might not make it on time. I tell my mom all good, no worries. She gets in contact with the seller. After a long delay in response they get back with "Right we'll fix it!" It ships, tracking label and everything, good to go! ETA May 22nd (yesterday.)

During the work day I check the tracking and it says it's been delivered in/at mailbox! I double check with my mom "hey, is it mailbox size?" because if not, I don't want it sitting at the front door where anyone walking by could snag it.

She says "it's definitely NOT mailbox size." Okay. I text my neighbors in the building "Anyone seen a package delivered? It's a birthday gift from my mom and I wanna make sure it gets inside!" Success! Floor 2 David (not to be confused with Floor 1 David) had brought it inside. Inform my mom. All good!

I stop by home briefly around 4pm, because yesterday was hot-hot and I just installed my window A/C that morning in the living room, and according to my cat cam my stupid cat hasn't spent a single second in the climate controlled living room and is, instead, voluntarily baking herself elsewhere so I'm like "great" and hop on my bike to go home (10 minute ride) to check on her.

I get in the building door. Patches is crying from the top floor because she heard me. I maneuver my bike in the front hall. The ugliest fucking 6-foot-tall cat tree(?)/totem(?)/statue(?) I've seen in my entire life is just. Standing there.

My first thought is "What the fuck is that." My second thought is "Oh fuck that is for me." I look around at the floor in case there's perhaps anything else that might, in fact, be the gift.

No. Me and Cat Pole.

It's taller than me. I turn it around to face me and its face is painted and this is, in fact, uglier than it looked from the back.

Um.

Patches is crying. So I just haul it up to my level. MAYBE it was supposed to come with twine that I wrap around it (and hide its face from the world) for Patches to scratch. Maybe this is a prank. Maybe this is an inside joke, because when my mom moved into her current house the neighborhood gifted her some ugly-as-hell totem that apparently, by tradition, each newest-comer to the neighborhood is required to have and display in their window so maybe this is a very good riff on that.

Patches rubs against it. She's not afraid of this horrid facsimile of her kind.

Great.

Meanwhile SHE'S fine and the condo is a little toasty but totally liveable so I'm like "Good, cool, you're not baking. You're having a good time. Enjoy your new sister, I guess, I'll see you later."

I go back to work because this is a problem for later me.

After work, after my run, after whatever, I get home and it's like 8:00pm and Patches is so happy to see me and the totem pole is still just. There.

I text my friends like "so a bday gift is here from my mom and it's the Biggest Ugliest cat pole I've seen in my life. Is this a bit? Did my mom go 'that's so ugly haha! send!' Maybe she genuinely found it cute. How do I navigate this." My friend Sarah has the good advice to maybe text my mom neutrally like "Got the cat pole!" and feel the waters whether my mom is like "Isn't it ugly? 😂" or "Hope Patches likes it! 🥰"

My mom goes to bed early so I don't do any of that yet. Problem for tomorrow me.

This morning, Patches wakes me up for breakfast. I get her situated and I'm staring at the fucking Cat Pole again. I wonder if my Mom's been wondering all night what I thought of it.

I take a picture. I text her.

Okay.

I get on call with my mom. I ask for clarity that the ungodly horrid thing is NOT my birthday gift and is in fact a mix-up from the seller who sent me this instead of my actual gift. She's wheezing between words. She thinks I'm being too charitable for the amount of Absolute Fucking Ugly this is. I have to gently talk her out of using the word "monstrosity" while messaging the seller asking what the hell happened here.

I tell her I need to apologize for harming her dignity with Floor 2 David, who thinks this fucking thing is my mom's idea of a great birthday gift for her to-be-28-year-old daughter.

My heart goes out to the poor soul who did actually order this cat totem and is lacking it on this lovely day.

[writersdrug]

no thoughts just waitress!reader showing up for shifts like nothings wrong after the date situation

just keeping it calm and professional. working her shifts efficiently and no longer bantering/flirting with ghost, who would rather reader melt down and tear into him than putting up the walls around herself hehe

Ok I'm combining some asks here that had some different ideas - I got so many of you guys demanding reparation for making reader cry 😭 here's the comfort chapter! (Still a tad angsty at the beginning)

Ghost had finished your tips for you that night. He had half a mind to slide a hundred in your payout folder as an apology for ruining your date... but what good would that do? That would make you quit for good, if you hadn't already.

He lays in his bed, eyes stuck to the ceiling, still in his jeans and black shirt. He wishes he could snuff out the guilt that sits heavily in his gut. He wonders what you're doing - probably crying, possibly making a half-assed voodoo doll of himself and stabbing his chest with a dull steak knife, because that's all he feels right now.

He gets up early the next day after a rough three hours of sleep. He lumbers down the stairs to the office - Price is there, sorting out cash and working on the next supply order. He looks at Simon, who's rubbing his eyes and looking worse for wear.

"Mornin'." Price says, turning back to the monitor. Ghost grunts in response, dropping himself onto the couch behind Price. His head aches from the lack of sleep, thoughts circling in his mind about how to apologize to you. He can imagine you won't want to talk to him - or, if you do, it'll most likely be profanities wedged between insults. He'd love for you to berate him right now, and make him feel like he got what he deserved.

Price sighs. "You sleep alright?"

"I've had better."

"Nightmare?"

"... yea, somethin' like that."

Price huffs. "I'm workin' front of house today." He says, grabbing the bag of tips and standing up. "Goin' down to drop these in the safe, then I'll help you stock up."

Simon opens his eyes, looking at Price with confusion. "You?"

Price nods. "Dove called out sick. Sounded like she's got the lurgy."

That delivers the final blow to Simon. He knows you're not sick - you're avoiding him now. All plans to apologize are now out the window, and the more time passes, the harder it'll be to do it.

"You've only got yourself to blame, Simon." Price says, heading down to the restaurant floor.

He curses under his breath as Price leaves. How he heard about what happened - he could only assume it had been from Soap. He drops his arm over his face and groans. He wants to call out himself, but then they might as well shut down the entire pub for the day.

Should he try phoning you? Would you answer, let alone allow him to get more than five words out? What would he say? "Sorry I ruined your date, I was jealous tha' ya got a life outside of the pub." There is no variation of an apology that feels like it would be enough. He made you cry, for fucks sake. That was a punishment in and of itself, but he still had to own up to what he'd done.

He sighs loudly; his body feels heavy as he drags himself off the couch, trudging down the stairs. He still has a bar to run.

It had to have been the longest shift of Simon's life, and he even wrapped things up a bit earlier than usual. He didn't have the gift of your incessant chatting or being able to tease you to make the time pass. Price was a solid companion in front of house, but there was hardly a conversation to be held - even with the usual bar crowd. The patrons had a look of confusion for the majority of the night, wondering why Soap wasn't popping his head out of the kitchen to chat every once in a while - and why the hell the owner was serving tables, and not the chipper, spunky waitress.

When Simon had locked up for the night, he noticed your bike was no longer in the alley. Johnny must have dropped it off on the way back to his place.

Today isn't much different - at least, not for Simon. He's still suffering from a lack of sleep, he's irritable (he had a spat with Johnny in the morning, over something he can't even remember), and his work ethic is suffering. He's not worried about slicing bar fruit; it'll give him something to do later, when he needs it. Maybe the rush will kick him back into shape.

He stares at the dishes on the edge of the bar - they're all in need of a good polish, but he finds himself stuck on staring at the bar fridge. There's nothing else he needs to stock up on - it's packed completely full with wine, champagne, and cans of beer. He gently kicks the side of it with his boot. He should be checking the to-go boxes, helping Soap with setting up the condiments and soups, making sure the tables all had full salt and pepper shakers. That's what you would be doing. But, you're not here, and neither is Price. He can only hope tonight isn't as busy as the previous night, otherwise he'll have to close some tables. Which would make customers mad. Which would make Price mad. Which would-

Suddenly, he hears three loud bangs against the back door. He freezes, the sound triggering a Pavlovian response. He immediately looks up to the kitchen window - Soap opens the door, and you come jogging inside. You greet him with a smile. He asks how you're feeling, and you say "much better".

He doesn't know what to do with himself, but he just stands there like an idiot as you hang your bag and jacket on a hook. Stands there as you push your way into the restaurant, barely sparing him a glance as you scurry by him. Stands there as you run up the stairs, two at a time, diving nose-first into your chores so you can avoid Simon.

He can't speak. Should he? What can he say? "I'm sorry," for starters, but it isn't that simple. He thought you might have quit, and was preparing his heart for the worst. But now, here you are, running back and forth through the pub and setting up your tables - and it feels like you've never been farther away from him.

In all honesty, you can't bring yourself to talk to him either. You're feeling just as ashamed with your behavior two nights ago as he is about his own. Why the fuck would you expect someone - let alone your boss - to do your chores so that you could run off and have fun on a date? Not only that, but you'd made a scene; you felt like you had half-assed the ice bins in your scramble to get them cleaned, and then you sobbed in the middle of the restaurant. The cherry on top, however, was when you called Price yesterday and told him you had a cold, calling out of your shift. It was a cowardly thing to do, and you could tell he wasn't buying your story.

But: bills need to be paid, rent is due, and you can't lose this job. So you sucked it up and came in today - Simon is easy enough to ignore, separated from you by the bar.

At first, the quiet bartender was relieved that you had showed up for your shift - he wouldn't have searched for a new waitress if you had quit, instead choosing to deal with the consequences of his actions. But he's quickly getting more and more irritated with the silent treatment you're serving. You only talk to him when necessary: a simple "thanks" when you grab your drinks and run them to your tables. You busy yourself between rolling silverware, (over)stocking napkins and condiments, and even going so far as to spray the menus down and scrub them with a rag. You spend more time in the kitchen with Soap; each peal of laughter shared between the two of you is another arrow in Simon's chest. He's stuck behind the bar, listening to woes spilling from drunken lips, forced to watch you flit around and pretend he doesn't exist.

You can't keep this up forever.

Still, you do for most of the night. Even when your shift is coming to an end, the kitchen closed while you close the tabs for your remaining tables, you don't cave and sit at the bar with Simon. You sit at the farthest table from him, the farthest chair, in fact, skimming over your tip receipts - and talking to Soap (who was only able to sit with you since you had helped him knock out his tasks).

Simon's never been as angry with Soap as he is now - and the worst part is he knows it's not justified. He's watching from behind the bar, polishing glasses so hard they might wane into cups. He wants to talk to you. He will talk to you before the night is over. He doesn't expect forgiveness, but he expects that you'll at least let him offer an apology.

One of the regulars at the bar looks to whatever Simon is glaring at, chuckling quietly when he sees you. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Stuff it, Mike." Simon grumbles.

Meanwhile, you walk back from closing out your last table, plopping back in the booth with Soap. "What are you doing after this?"

"Sleepin'." he replies instantly, tossing back an onion ring. "Been dealin' with a grumpy bawbag since early this mornin', and I'm beat."

You glance over at the bar; Simon's back is facing you as he organizes the beer glasses. You really should apologize to him... you just couldn't figure out when the right time would be. He'd still be working by the time your shift ends, and you don't even know if he wants to speak to you at this point.

"Is he mad at me?" you ask, tapping your pen on the table.

Soap sighs. "I'm not goin' t' be the middle man, Bonnie." he says, looking at you intently. "If ye feel like somethin' needs to be said, go talk to 'im."

You groan, leaning back against the seat. "It's not that simple."

"Why not?"

"It just isn't! He's already pissed at me, and he probably thinks I'm a slacker. What good is an apology?"

"Ye won't know 'til ye talk to 'im, hmm?"

"What if he fires me?"

Johnny barks with laughter, and you frown. "I'm being serious."

"He'd never fire ye." he says, getting up out of the booth. He stretches both arms above his head and lets out a grunt. "In fact, he was throwin' a fit yesterday n' today 'fore ye came in. Bitch took it out on me."

You winced. "I'm sorry-"

"Save it fer 'im." Soap interjected. He left you at the booth with the onion rings and your tips, disappearing into the kitchen. You huff, hunching back over your tips and scribbling through them.

Deep down, you know Soap is right. If anything, you could just apologize to Simon. If he chooses to be grumpy about it, so be it. You've got tough skin... still, you can't stand the thought of him being upset with you - not because of your work ethic, but because you liked him. A lot. And you wanted him to like you back, even if it was in the most platonic way.

But that didn't change anything. An apology was due, and you were going to give him one before you left tonight.

You grabbed an onion ring and popped it in your mouth, grimacing when you realized they were cold. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Simon making his was across the floor to your booth.

Great. Guess the apology is coming now.

He stops at the edge of the table, wiping his hands in a rag. You pretend to punch numbers into your phone's calculator, but they're all random - you just want to look like you're busy.

"May I sit?" he asks, tucking the rag into his back pocket.

You mumble out a "sure", still not looking at him. You hear his large frame slide into the seat across from you, polyester squeaking underneath his weight. You continue to do random equations on your calculator, letting a thick blanket of tension settle between the two of you. You can feel his stare burning into your head, his arms folded over his chest... and you notice that his mask is in his hand. You finally look up at him.

It's not the first time you've seen his face - you've caught glimpses of it when he smokes in the alley, or when he eats whatever Soap throws under the warmer for you and Simon. But this time, he's not taking it off to be convenient. And, dear god, you're just now paying attention to how scarred, rugged, and handsome he is - but now's not the time for those kinds of thoughts. You feel like he's reaching out an olive branch, showing a possible vulnerable side to himself. So, you place your pen on the table and lean back.

He stays quiet for a moment longer, trying to figure out how to start this. He wants to make sure that you know he's here to apologize, not to ask for forgiveness. From his silence, you assume he's waiting for you to go first.

"I'm sorry about Tuesday night." you say, eyes dropping to the table. Simon's astounded that you're the one apologizing, but you continue. "I shouldn't have reacted the way I did, and I'm sorry for trying to dump my job on you."

He feels worse, now. Was that even possible? He was expecting anger, insults - a detailed, frustrated explanation of what you did last night since you did not go on that date. But you're the one saying sorry? You think you're to blame for all of this unspoken aggression? Oh, you really do confuse him, sometimes...

"You don't need t' be sorry, luv." he says, gazing at you with a softness you'd never seen before, not in his brown eyes, at least.

"No, I do." you say, nearly pleading with him to let you be apologetic. "I was being a brat, and whether you usually do the ice bins or not, I shouldn't have expected you would do them without asking." You push your pen on the table, doing your best to convey your feelings. "And yeah, I was late for my date, but... well, he sounded like a dick, anyways."

Simon chuckles, watching you stare at the table. "Well, I owe you an apology, too. I jus'..." he sighed heavily, running a hand down his jaw. "I don' even know. Guess I was bein' lazy, or... I got jealous tha' you've got a life outside of this pub. Feels like you belong here."

He immediately regrets saying that - it sounds way too possessive and... just straight up weird. But you smile, taking comfort in the fact that he still wants you here. That this was the whole reason behind the mess.

"Soap called you a bitch. Said you were an asshole all day."

Simon scoffs. "Yea... 'm pretty sure Price would tell ya the same. And he wants ya back, too. Couldn't stand waitin' on tables, he was tryin' t' trade places with me all night."

You laugh. The world seems alright again - not perfect, but good enough. It might take a night of sleeping the tension away before you're fully back to your normal self, but this is a leap in the right direction. You look at Simon, into his brown, steady eyes, as they stare right back at you.

He breaks the silence. "I really am sorry for ruinin' your date."

You smile softly. "Thank you, Simon. I forgive you."

And just like that, the weight of his guilt is lifted away. The lingering sourness remains, a reminder that he had made you cry. But you had forgiven him, which was more than he was hoping to get tonight.

"Are we better?" you ask timidly.

He nods once. "Better."

You smile - you slowly slide your stack of receipts to him, biting your lip. "Cool - can I have my money?"

Just like that, his smirk drops - but you know it's all in good humor. He huffs, snatching the stack from the table and scoots his way out of the booth. "Always got money on the mind, eh?"

"I've always got rent on my mind." you retort, following after him with the bowl of onion rings. You plant yourself at your usual spot on the end of the bar, right near the POS where Simon cashes out your tips. He tries to hurry up, assuming you want to dip and go home after such an intense conversation. He slides the mask back over his face and punches his code in, trying to edit your tips into the system as quickly as he can.

"Simon?"

"Hm?" his response is instant, turning around to look back at you. You've got your phone on the bartop, and your back and jacket on the unoccupied seat next to you.

"Can I stay for a drink?"

He's melting on the inside, only held together by his own skin. He sets your receipts down and opts to do them later, right before whenever you decide to leave. He won't miss on an opportunity to have you stay longer.

"Course, luv. What's it gonna be?"

"You know how to make a cosmo?"

He chuckles, grabbing a glass from the shelf behind him. "Sure do."

[shotmrmiller]

in which johnny gifts the love of his life a sex toy outta nowhere

when you mumble into the phone that you miss him, johnny, he pauses for a second, then tells you he's going to bring you a gift back home. "to keep ye company, hen." after, he locks himself in a bathroom stall and watches you play with yourself until you both come.

but you'd thought he'd bring you a pet. a live animal that needs a cage to be brought across the world, not a long, slim unmarked box.

it's a sex toy. and it's rather large, at that. your hand wraps around the base, fingertips still a good inch apart.

"and i'm supposed to be using that?" his arms wrap around your waist, his thick stubble grazing the sensitive skin of your neck, raising goose flesh.

"don't like it? only had ye in mind, hen." he presses a wet kiss on your fluttering pulse. you've never really talked about toys in your relationship. you don't need them, of course, and johnny more than makes up for the time lost between you two whenever he's home but this?

"i don't know," you mumble. "a bullet would've made more sense, i think. at most a rose." his hands run up your sides, to the swell of your breasts and give you a gentle squeeze. he doesn't believe the tripe of people valuing size over all else, does he? the thing is easily as thick as your forearm and it's corded with veins. and it's uncut. whoever is making these are going to extreme lengths to make it as realistic as possible.

he bucks his hips, prominent bulge in his jeans coming to rest in the small of your back. of course he'd get excited. menace.

"ye willnae have t'use it alone now tha' i'm here. 'sides, i think ye'd look perfect with my pretty kitty stretched thin around it." johnny grabs your hips firmly, creating small divots as his grip tightens. "maybe i'll watch ye fuck yerself on it, hm? lap at yer clit while ye do." liquid heat pools in your belly, pulsing hot between your legs.

he really wants you to use it, given by his ragged breathing and he rutting himself against you. fine. "okay. just, not right now, yeah? i want only you in me." his eyes burn fluorescent as he nods, his large hand cradling your head as he pulls you in for a kiss.

you missed this. the sweet sting of his cock sliding home in your aching cunt, the sharp pinch below your navel when his tip comes to sit snugly against the plug of your womb. you've missed this. missed him.

maybe he'll forget all about that monstrosity sitting in the box.

-

he doesn't. he's bringing it up hours later, his spend still dripping warm on your thighs. johnny cannot be serious.

"course i am, hen." his fingers sweep at the hair stuck to your sweat-slick forehead. "is it a crime to want to see ye split open on some- something else?"

you think nothing of his stutter. "alright," you groan. if that's what he wants. it'll be interesting to see just how much you can take. you'll never tell him that your pussy clenched around nothing at the thought, his cum trickling out faster, pooling on the sheets.

-

it's not warm. the tip of it presses against your swollen entrance, cold in contrast to your heated flesh. johnny watches you swallow a gasp, your trembling hands reaching for his as you slide down an inch, two, three. johnny's cum is wonderful lube, but the searing burn- the size of toy is overwhelming, your walls being wrenched apart as you glide down further. johnny presses a prickly kiss on your cheek, cooing in your ear all the while his clever fingers draw gentle circles on your clit. "focus on breathin', bonnie. yer tensin' up."

desire begins to bubble beneath your skin, pleasure causing your muscles to warm and slacken, and after a long couple of minutes, you find yourself at the base.

but then johnny grabs your hips from behind and pulls- oh. "that's it." if you'd thought the toy had originally been in your stomach, it's now in your throat. "pretty as a peach, hen. jus' wha' i wanted to see." a shiver dances up your spine, notches trembling as you get used to the unforgiving stretch of the toy. his breath warms the side of your neck. "on yer go."

you come around it no less than three times, leaving it milky and johnny cleans it up with his mouth before he cleans you up.

-

the girth of it is something you'll never get used to but it does get easier. when johnny goes back to work, he tells you that all he asks for are videos of you using it. for his collection, he greedily says.

you send him as many as you can, no matter the hours. just a quick nsfw text before getting his thumbs up and away it goes. it's incredibly fun. the relationship hadn't been dull by any means, but this just feels invigorating. you feel rejuvenated. that johnny is your biggest cheerleader while using it is such a bonus.

you oughta marry him. maybe you'll elope the next time he's home. but when the next time comes, johnny calls you instead of messaging you the usual be home soon text.

and it sends you reeling.

bonnie. the toy treat ye well while i was gone?

no better than you could me, but yeah. i'm still sore from using it in the last video i sent you.

that's great. if ye like the toy then ye'll love the real thing, i ken. we'll be there in 10.

[lustkillers]

Would love to see some content for Simon from Dinner in America or Colin Gray, you’re more than welcome to pick the subject matter, preferably female reader

｡ﾟ･ ୨୧ . i owe you a black eye and two kisses.

⊹₊ ⋆ summary. - oh, how he's missed his girl during his time away.

⊹₊ ⋆ pairing - simon / john q x fem!reader

✶ c.w. - nsfw freaky deaky time!! hard?dom simon, sub!reader, unprotected sex (WRAP IT UP.), p in v, car sex (in a volkswagen beetle...), public sex, STOMACH BULGE!!! facial, throat fucking-ish, degradation—but also praise, cowgirl position, overstimulation, hair pulling, very cutesy fic... (let me know if i missed anything!)

⊹₊ ⋆ note - back from the dead (laziness) and kicking it!! i hope i did this request justice as i haven’t written in so long… WHOOPS. its been literally ages since i wrote smut so i apologize if i’m rusty as hell doing this… PLEASE FORGIVE ME. anywho… LUSTKILLERS IS SO BACK BABY 🙂‍↕️

requests are open! <3

THE night was cold and you couldn't be more bored out of your mind. the windows of your red volkswagen beetle were down, the distinguished smell of the car gas filling the air around you. your leg bounced, the keys that consisted of plenty of keychain accessories clinking against each other, and your eyes traced over the rusty, tall fence that you probably counted all the diamond-shaped holes between each steel bar. how long have you been here? an hour? hour too early?

at the rate of biting at your own cheek unconsciously, there was probably a dent that was left inside your cheek from how much you've bit down on it. turning your palms over was a nightmare; your hands glistening with sweat from anticipation. you wanted to look the best. you wanted everything to be perfect.

you couldn't even remember how he ended up here; maybe you blocked it out. slightly tragic on your end, watching as your boyfriend was cuffed and put into the back of a cop car, the last thing you experienced together was your fingers loosely holding a cigarette for him. that feeling left you empty... and a bit sexually frustrated, due to the fact that he had promised to fuck you real good after his performance.

a masculine silhouette stood at the goddamned fence that you loathed, your eyes shooting up at the whirring sound of the mechanical fence sliding to the right, leaving the figure to leave. you let go of the cigarettes that laid in the cupholder, your slippery hands moving to unlock your car.

with a frustrated yell, you quickly wiped your hands on the seats on your car, restoring the dryness that easily helped you unlock your god forsaken car. you opened the door, ducking under the slight top ledge that you've hit your head on plenty of times. you were giddy like a child receiving their gifts on their birthday– squealing as you shut the door behind you and stood in front of the driver's side door, bouncing on the tips of your toes, and a smile spread across your face.

simon had that stupid smirk on his face, scruff all over his face, and his hair slightly grown out from the last time you saw him. he also had the same clothes on from the last time, the green jacket and black pants with the boots. it felt like the first time all over again, and god, that outfit made your pussy throb, and your knees were moments away from bucking and landing onto the dirt ground.

"didn't i tell you to get rid of that goddamn car? looks stupid, the ladybug print and all." simon said gruffly, a slight smirk creeping onto the corners of with lips, his siren-like eyes peering down at you.

you looked up at him with a slight pout and doe eyes, "i think it looks cute." you mumbled in defense. his eyes gleamed with a predatory look on you. cute, he thought. but what left his lips was just a mere scoff, his smirk turning into a smile... which was still somehow intimidating if you think about it.

"looks like a kiddie car, that's what it looks like." he taunted, making you playfully roll your eyes.

you huff, "i'm gonna punch you in the face... leave a black eye while i'm at it." your voice taunting, yet not really sincere. he only chuckled in response, "c'mere." he moved towards you, his lips swinging down to kiss yours, kissing away the pout that now disappeared.

his rough, big hands wandered towards your ass, gripping it with no intent of letting go. simon's kisses were one of a man deprived of lust and yearning, and he wasn't planning to let your breathe for air. his hands roamed around your backside, his feet pushing you back towards the silly-looking car, his right hand pulling at the door handle, swinging the door open.

simon's eyes opened from the kiss, his frustration growing from the lack of the backdoors your car had. he let out a groan, his lips unlatching from yours, his jaw clenching as he softly moved you aside, bringing the drivers seat forward so you two could hop in the back. his pants strained against his bulge, and the whine that left your lips made it even worse.

"give me a moment doll, your car is pissing me off." he grumbled, watching his head as he hopped into the small car, with you behind him, closing the door. he was sitting with his legs spread, you in front of him with little to no space at all, on your knees, which were already feeling rough from the material of the bottom the car.

you and simon made no time to push down your pants, his hands unbuckling the shiny belt that clinked once it unfastened from his waist, and your hands helped slide them down, his thick, long cock springing free, and you could've sworn your eye twitched at the sight. with the way he looked down at you and the non-existent space you left between your face and his cock, the feeling between your thighs released itself like a flood; your thighs pressing together in instinct.

"god, if you don't hurry it up, i might take matters into my own hands." he groaned out, swallowing dryly as his hands gripped at your hair; making you squeak out a quick 'sorry,' and your tongue quickly laid flat against the side of his cock; a hiss escaping simon's pretty lips. "fuck," he groaned.

you worked your way around his cock, your head bobbing up and down, trying your best to keep eye-contact with him as you bobbed. spit drooled down the sides of your mouth; the liquid pooling at the base of his cock, slowly sliding down his strained balls; the sounds of his grunts and low groans filling the small car.

he felt your right hand shift towards your sopping pussy; mewls leaving your lips as you rubbed your clit, heightening your senses, but also making you focus less on working his cock. simon noticed it, his grip on your hair turning into a makeshift lever, the control reeling to him as he started to guide your head up and down, his cock spearing at the back of your throat, hitting past the uvula. the feeling made you gag, spluttering more spit around his cock, the sight being messy as ever. he pulled your head from his cock, your right hand leaving your clit in response, and as your lips left his cock, it making you gasp out in air; your eyes watering from the intense throat-fuck that was definitely going to leave you sore, along with your poor legs that were soon to fall victim to his fucking.

"si, give me a moment–" you squealed, making simon laugh as he pulled you up onto his lap, laughter leaving from both your lips. "tryna get me put in jail again, doll? fuckin' in front of the prison i just got out of?" he smirked, his forehead touching yours.

"not my fault, si– oh!" you hum in response, which quickly turned into a gasp– which finally turned into a moan, his cock knowingly filling your tight walls. his hips piston upwards, his cock hitting the deepest part of your cunt. his hands held at your hips, guiding you up and down on his cock, creating a white, creamy ring around the base.

the car windows immediately fogged up, heat and sweat glistening on both your bodies, the occasional cocky laugh simon let out settled into your ears, making you shiver. your hips worked at a sensual speed, grinding and bouncing, alternating between the two, moans spilling from your lips.

his lips shut your moans up for a bit, before pulling away and murmuring, "so pretty bouncing on my cock, like the slut you are." he smiled against your shoulder, placing a kiss against it as he looked at you, babbling and panting. "feel that?" he whispered, pressing down on the bulge his cock made in your stomach, immediately making you start to crumble.

you looked at him, your hips started to falter and grow slower, your legs tired and your thighs shaking as the pressure built up, waiting to burst out. but you tried to keep your pace going, your hands on his chest as you whimpered.

your lips tried to form a sentence, only letting out broken words. "c–cum... i needa– hmph!" you cry out, feeling the vibrations of simon's chuckle. "can i–?" you whimpered, moments away from crying in frustration.

his lips captured yours once again, making you come undone. you came around his cock, clenching as your thighs tried to close at the feeling; high-pitched moans leaving your lips as you were sent into a fruitful bliss. "haah–! t-thank you, si!" you sigh, your hips stuttering, still lazily grinding, praying to god that simon finds his release, or you'd probably lose it.

simon groaned, nearing his release as he fucks up into you, your overstimulated pussy weeping and soaking. "m'gonna cum," he exhaled, and at his words– he came, but he planned to cum on your face, his hands making quick–but safe work, one shot of cum shooting inside your cunt, and when you blink, you're already on your knees, hot spurts of his warm cum hitting your face, your eyes closing. he let out a hoarse breath, "that was fuckin' tits," he laughed, hunched over. his cock started to soften, his hands making quick work and grabbed the cigarette pack and paper towel that sat inside the cup holder. he ripped a piece of paper towel, wiping your face... decently clean, but it was the effort that counted.

your eyes fluttered open to look at him, a smirk on his face as a lit cigarette hung from his lips, his rough hands cupping your face and stroking his thumb across your fucked-out cheeks. "you're one of a kind, y'know that?" he let out a sigh, fixing your clothes back on you, and pulling you up to straddle him again sharing a kiss, which tasted like cigarettes, but you didn't mind. you never had a problem with him and he never had a problem with you. the world revolved around you both and nobody else. his eyes twinkled at the sight of your eyes, and his face softened.

"ditto." you whispered, smiling.

[cherrygirlfriend]

bsf!rafe gets jealous because of reader

warning: smut!! bathroom funtimes (again?) MDNI these two are always making each other jealous why do they match each other's freaks like that and where do i get that ... also sorry

rafe was always so territorial and possessive when it came to something, or someone he deemed as his, and even though he had a girlfriend, in his eyes, you belonged to him.

you weren't sure if it was the booze, or just your naturally jealous personality, but seeing him have his arm thrown around sofia's shoulder at the party he had thrown felt like someone stabbed you in the chest, the way he whispered into her ear making you feel nauseous, bringing back every time you'd seen him kiss her the way he kissed you, when he'd pretend like you were nothing but his best friend in front of her, only to drag you to the closest bedroom the moment he had the chance. and at that moment, you'd had enough.

usually, when guys came up to flirt with you, you'd ignore them, but when a tall, dark-haired guy you recognized as one of your old classmates approached you, it was as if the devil perched on your shoulder was telling you to take advantage of the situation. and you were never one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

so, after a few moments spent catching up with your old classmate, you started flirting with the boy, and it was as if 'subtle' wasn't a word in your vocabulary, your hand pressed on his bicep while you bit down on your lower lip, making sure to look at him with the best bedroom eyes you could muster up while the boy's hand slid onto your waist; a part of you felt so silly for doing that, but an even bigger part of you was desperate for some kind of reaction out of rafe.

you pretended not to notice the way rafe was looking at you, his hand clenching around his solo cup, the boy running a hand over his blonde buzzcut as his jaw tightened, the veins on his arm looking as if they were going to burst out of rage.

every part of you was enjoying making him feel the way you always felt when you saw him with sofia, and so you leaned closer to the boy's ear, giving him permission to move his hand onto your ass.

and when rafe saw the way the boy's hand slid onto the round curve of your ass, it was as if all of the blood was drained out of his face, the feeling in his chest only made worse by the way you giggled at something the brunette had said. he unattached himself from sofia, telling her and his friends that he'd go get something to drink, the group going right back to their previous conversation.

you could see him approach you in the corner of your eye, but you acted like you didn't care, and whatever the brunette was saying to you was the most interesting thing ever, even though you were barely listening to a thing he said, it going in one ear and out the other.

when you heard rafe clear his throat, the blonde now standing right next to you, a shiver ran down your spine and you wondered how such a small thing was enough for a rush of arousal to hit you.

"heyyy, can i talk to you?" he asked, and you turned to look at him nonchalantly, the boy you were talking to now turning to look at him in confusion.

"sorry, i'm kind of busy." you said with a spiteful smile, but it seemed like rafe wasn't taking no for an answer, and before you could even finish the sentence, his hand was wrapped around your arm. you cleared your throat, turning to the boy you were talking to with a friendly smile. "sorry, i'll be right back."

you let rafe drag you into the bathroom, the boy locking the door behind him as he pushed you against the tile wall, his hands on your hips, so dangerously close to the hem of your dress, his hot breath on your face.

"what the fuck was that?" he asked in a rough, low voice, and you could feel his erection pressing against your abdomen, only heightening your own arousal. "why the fuck were you talking to him?"

"you were clearly busy." you shrugged, "i thought i'd give a chance to someone who wants me for something other than a quick fuck."

"you serious?" he scoffs, one of his hands moving to hold onto your chin as he tilts your head back so you'd look at him, "i know guys like that, the only thing he wants from you is exactly that."

"you're one to talk."

when rafe processed what you'd just said, it was as if someone had slapped him in the face. he hated to admit it, but you were right. he had treated you as if you were just some hook-up, instead of his best friend since you were both children. but he knew you'd never understand why he did that, why he kept you at a distance, the tight grip he had on your hip now loosening a bit. he cleared his throat, but you could still hear some tightness in it, as he whispered into your ear, his pupils widened to cover half of his pretty blues, "let me make it up to you, baby."

and somehow, before you even knew it, you were once again sitting on the bathroom counter, holding onto the marble countertop with your dear life, your panties lost somewhere on the bathroom floor while his tongue lapped up the arousal soaking your folds before his lips attached themselves to your clit, sucking on it while his fingers thrust in and out of you.

your dress was hiked up to your waist, rafe's muscular arms holding onto your thighs while he knelt in front of the counter, your arms wobbling while they tried to hold you up, by the counter your loud moans covered up by the music coming from the living room.

you hated the fact that only rafe was able to do this to you - to drive you this crazy, to make you feel this good. you'd tried being with other guys, but nothing felt quite as good as being with him, and it made you curse yourself for ever letting him touch you in the first place.

but none of that was on your mind as you let your orgasm wash over you, moaning his name like it was the only word you could remember, while the blonde started slowing down his movements, letting you ride out your orgasm.

when your breathing was finally starting to settle down, you hopped off the counter onto your wobbly legs, pulling down your dress to cover your thighs, pulling rafe by the collar of his shirt until his lips met yours in an electrifying kiss, tasting yourself on the blonde boy's lips.

after a moment, you pulled away from him, feeling his erection press against your abdomen, your hand trailing down his chest until it met the waistband of his jeans, pulling him closer to you by his belt. "your turn?" you suggested, biting down on your lip. rafe grinned, going in for another kiss until you simply pulled away from him, taking a few steps back and booping his nose playfully, your long nails making it look even more comical. "nah, i don't think so, baby."

rafe looked at you with furrowed brows as he took a few steps closer to you, his hands trying to attach themselves to your waist, but you only stepped back.

"i'm not gonna be some quick fuck for you anymore. guess you'll just have to settle for your girlfriend."

you tore off the locket he had given you, the one with the initials r.c as well as a picture of you two, throwing it somewhere on the floor before you walked out of the bathroom without looking back, leaving him to stand there on his own while you made your way back to the party, a newfound determination running through your veins. you wouldn't let him use you again.

[hollyoongs]

I can't feel my face when I'm with you But I love it, but I love it, oh. (the weeknd - can't feel my face)

ᨓ 。lee heeseung x fem reader ꒰🎂꒱﹕pure smut with little plot ﹕tbc

contains: mean dom!heeseung, sexting (brief moment and a mention of it later, reader is in bold and Heeseung in italic), oral (both), p in v sex (reader is on the pill but wrap it before you tap it), use of sexual toys (anal butt plug, dildo and vibrator), anal, squirting (Hee just loves it), lots ass spanking, multiple orgasms, petnames (cockslut, bitch, cumslut and more), choking, deepthroath, dick slapping, cum eating, voice audio recording, double penetration, daddy kink and let me know if I missed anything. ┈─★

synopsis: Heeseung just wanted to get his face numb between your thights and show you some manners after sending him a picture of what he will get when he arrives to your place.

Today marked a significant milestone for you, six other guys, and millions of fans. Heeseung was turning the so afraid 23 years old, and everyone was planning something for your boyfriend, including you. You'd helped the staff set up his Weverse live, and a small after-party would follow at the building afterward.

But you had your own surprise waiting at home. After six long months apart, not seeing or touching each other had been pure torture. The moment Heeseung landed back in Korea, all you wanted was to run into his arms, but the staff had kept you apart, saving the reunion for later. It was hell—a living one.

Still, that didn't stop you from teasing him.

You took advantage of him not seeing you at all while helping the staff, sneaking around corners and staying hidden as he tried to find you. After everything was ready, you quickly left, thanking the staff and leaving a small gift with a note saying it was from you, but the packaging of it was screaming it was you in a subtle way you and him knew.

You arrived home, letting yourself relax before decorating your bedroom. You had everything planned, and it had to be perfect, from start to finish. Your phone vibrated three times, pulling you from your thoughts. A smile spread across your lips when Heeseung’s name lit up your screen.

"I saw what you did to the office and the lobby, I’m so lucky to be yours."

"I love you, baby, thank you."

"I’m going to start my live, I missed you so much. Hope you can watch it, love."

With a smirk, you turned on your tablet and went straight to the app, catching the live just as it started. There he was, looking as handsome as ever, greeting his fans with that soft voice you’d missed so much. It was the time to start the plan, and you knew you would get in trouble, but everything had a purpose, and it was a small payback of what he used to do when you were at your university having classes. Your playful side was screaming. You had been apart for too long, and now it was time to make things interesting.

Leaning back on your couch, you slowly took off your shirt, leaving yourself in just your black bra. You snapped a picture of yourself lounging, the tablet resting on your chest like you were hugging him.

"Anything for my birthday boy. Looking good, baby."

Without giving yourself time to second-guess it, you hit send, your heart racing. Sure, you have taken suggestive pictures of yourself, but it was your first time sending a nude to your boyfriend. You watched the live as the message appeared on his phone. His eyes widened for a split second, a slight pause in his speech before a smirk curled on his lips.

“Wow, ENGENE are arriving fast to the live. We’ll start in a few minutes,” he said, glancing down at the cake in front of him as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Your phone buzzed again, and you already knew who it was.

"Honey, what the fuck are you doing?"

"Giving you small preview of my birthday surprise."

"Angel, don't do it."

"I will, baby. P.S: Hope you like my gift (say it comes from one of the members.)"

You saw the screen where the live can be watched, and you saw how he moved in his chair.

“Okay, okay, let’s get started,” he said, his voice smooth as he addressed the fans. “We’ve got a lot planned for today, so thank you for tuning in." then the live continued smoothly; you even saw yourself being captivated by how he interacted with fans. You decide to let him breathe for a moment to continue with the decoration. Rose petals were laying on the bed and floor. You positioned some unlit candles around the room, and now you were looking for your Victoria Secret robe, on that Heeseung bought for your birthday with some lingerie.

"Now, I would like to open the gifts from my members," you could hear in the distance, and you left everything to go watch again. He was opening all the boxes until he came to yours, a big box wrapped with golden paper that had a sign that said "careful.". "This is from Jake."

Heeseung’s eyes widened in genuine surprise as he pulled the new gaming equipment from the box, his fingers tracing the edges of the gear he’d been wanting for months. He chuckled softly, looking down at the hidden post-it note that only he could see. His heart swelled with warmth, knowing just how much thought and effort you’d put into this gift. It wasn’t just the equipment itself but the fact that you understood him, knew exactly what he wanted, and worked so hard to get it for him.

“This is amazing, Jake,” he said, laughing as he played along with the cover story. “You really outdid yourself. I’m going to use this every chance I get.” He flashed his signature playful grin toward the camera, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He was thinking about you—the person behind the gift, the person who always knew how to make him feel special.

Your heart is fluttering at his reaction. You knew Heeseung well enough to catch the subtle emotions behind all of his smiles. He was touched, and even though he couldn’t say it out loud during the live, you felt the connection between you two stronger than ever.

"You liked it, baby?"

Heeseung’s phone buzzed again, and though he was still live, he discreetly glanced at it while the camera focused on the other gifts. He quickly grabbed his phone, excusing himself to the viewers, saying it was his brother texting him while being live.

"I love it. But I love you more."

Your heart skipped a beat as you read his message. Heeseung will always find a way to make you feel like you were the only one who mattered. You smirked, fingers moving fast on the keyboard.

"You better. There’s more where that came from, but it’s waiting for you here."

"I can’t wait, angel. What else do you have planned?"

You then decided to be a little more suggestive; you ran to your closet, a hidden box you had for your little toys that you used when Heeseung was gone. You put the dildo in the middle of your breasts, still covered with the bra, and your tongue sticks out in an action to lick the tip of it. You snapped a picture and pressed "Send" after checking it.

"What do you think? Everything for my birthday boy."

You looked back to the screen, and you let out a chuckle. This time, his eyes went wide; he was trying so hard to not send everything to hell and ran to fuck the living hell out of you; you just knew it. He suspended his phone and saw the staff's hand being extended, giving his phone to the staff, but Heeseung looked at the camera, his eyes looking deeply at the camera and keeping up with the live.

The moment the staff took his phone, you grinned to yourself. Heeseung couldn’t respond, but you didn’t need his words to know what was going through his mind. You’d pushed him to the edge, and now all that was left was to wait for him to come to you.

Your heart raced as you watched Heeseung struggle to maintain his composure. He was barely holding it together, and you knew that once he was free from the live and the afterparty, he’d be all yours.

You returned to your preparations, adding the final touches to your room. The soft flicker of candlelight cast a warm glow over the rose petals that trailed from the doorway to the bed. You adjusted the sheer Victoria’s Secret robe on your body that Heeseung had bought you, making sure it hung perfectly over your shoulders, revealing just enough of the navy blue lace lingerie underneath. Your body hummed with excitement, counting every minute that passed by.

Your phone buzzed again, but this time it wasn’t a message—it was a notification that Heeseung had wrapped up his life. You smiled, knowing that meant he’d be heading to the afterparty soon.

"Have fun at the afterparty, baby. Don’t keep me waiting too long."

Heeseung didn’t have his phone, so you didn’t expect a response, but you knew the moment he was able to check his messages, he’d see it. You paced around your room; you wanted everything to be perfect, despite the fact that you two will forget everything after falling into the bed sheets.

Minutes felt like hours as you waited, your heart pounding louder with each passing moment, and, you had to admit, your mind was creating several scenarios, making your entrance wet. You could feel how your pants were sticking and how your body temperature got higher, like you were having a fever.

Your fingers barely grazed your entrance, but the heat radiating from your core made your knees weak. The moan that slipped from your lips was soft at first, but the sensation was too overwhelming to contain. You bit your lip, eyes fluttering shut as you pressed your fingers harder against the soaked fabric of your pants, trying to relieve some of the pressure building inside you.

You couldn’t help but picture Heeseung’s hands on you instead, his lips trailing over your skin as he took control of your body, just like he always did. The mere thought of it was enough for you to make you smile in delight. Your breathing became shallow as you pushed your pants aside, your fingers slipping easily through your wet folds. The friction sent a jolt of pleasure up your spine, and another moan escaped you, louder this time.

Your head fell back as you teased yourself, your mind lost in fantasies of what Heeseung would do when he finally got his hands on you. Your hips bucked against your fingers, desperate for more, but no matter how much you tried, it wasn’t enough. Only Heeseung could make you feel the way you needed.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, you heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching the door of your apartment. Your breath caught in your throat, and you straightened up, adjusting your robe and pants one last time as the doorknob turned.

The door creaked open slowly, revealing Heeseung standing in the doorway, his sharp features illuminated by the soft candlelight. As you got closer, you could see his eyes with a layer of desire, locking onto you immediately. He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with a controlled force that made your heart race. His posture was tense, his jaw clenched, and there was something dangerous in his gaze—and you were so ready for it, for him.

"Angel," he muttered, his voice low and dripping with authority as he took a step toward you, removing his coat in the process. His eyes roamed over your figure, taking in every inch of your exposed skin under the lace lingerie and sheer robe. "Fuck, you look like a dream."

Heeseung's intense gaze never left you as he stepped closer, tossing his coat onto a chair without a second thought. His presence was overwhelming to the point that you could even feel it a mile away. Your heart was pounding in your chest as his eyes devoured you, lingering on your barely concealed skin.

His hand wrapped tightly around your waist as he yanked you close, making you gasp and your tremble a little with your balance, which made you put your hands on his shoulders. His lips curled into a wicked smirk as he leaned down, his breath hot against your ear.

"You almost get me in trouble," he whispered, his voice dark and commanding. "Sending me those pictures while I was in front of millions… What was your intention on it?"

His hand moved up to your chin, forcing you to look directly into his eyes. You could feel the power he held over you in that moment, and that made you smile.

“I hope you’re ready to pay for that,” he murmured, his tone darkening as his grip tightened. “Think you can play games with me? Let's see if you can handle the consequences.”

Before you could even react, Heeseung’s lips collided with yours in a heated, bruising kiss that made your knees weak. His grip on your thighs tightened as he hoisted you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he pressed you against the wall. Your head was spinning, and you could feel your body buzzing with his touch.

His tongue dominated yours, the kiss desperate and filled with the frustration of the time you had spent apart. His hands gripped your ass tightly as he carried you effortlessly into the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. He separated from the kiss and saw all the decoration that was happening in the bedroom.

Heeseung’s eyes flickered as he took in the soft glow of the candles and the delicate trail of rose petals leading to the bed and some other things you put. His grip on your waist tightened, his chest rising and falling with his heavy breaths as he looked around the room and then back at you.

"You went all out for me, didn’t you?" His voice was low and teasing, sending shivers down your spine. "Thought you could butter me up after teasing me all day?"

His eyes darkened with lust as he leaned down, brushing his lips against the shell of your ear. "Too bad it won’t save you from what’s coming, baby."

Before you could respond, he spun you around, pressing you against the wall once again. His body pressed against yours, his lips grazing the back of your neck as he whispered, "You want to know if I like it? I love it. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to take it easy on you."

He pushed you back against the bed, his hand gripping your wrist as he held you down, his other hand sliding the sheer robe off your shoulders, exposing the delicate lingerie underneath. He hovered above you, his gaze burning with intensity.

"So pretty for me," he growled, his fingers tracing along the lace, teasingly close but never touching you where you needed him most. "And so needy, did you really miss me that much?."

His grip tightened on your wrist as his other hand finally slipped beneath the lace, his fingers brushing against your heated skin. But instead of giving you what you wanted, he pulled back, making you whimper in frustration. Heeseung smirked, clearly enjoying how worked up you were already.

"Heeseung, please." You plead, and he just smiled.

"You don’t get to make demands, angel. Not after what you pulled today," he said, his voice dripping with authority. "You’re going to take what I give you. Do you understand?"

You nodded, your body trembling and your entrance getting wetter by the second, but that wasn’t enough for him. His hand tightened around your wrist as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "Use your words."

"Yes," you stammered, barely able to breathe under the weight of his dominance.

"Good girl." Heeseung’s smirk widened as he released your wrist, trailing his hand down your body, making you shiver under his touch. "Now, let’s see how well you behave when I’m done with you."

What followed was a blur of sensations—his hands on your body, his lips claiming yours, and the overwhelming intensity of his dominance—that dominance you missed so badly.

His lips and yours collided in a passionate dance, humming at the sensation of finally, after months, being this close was like touching heaven yourself. With his hands, he ripped the clothing you had, more specifically, your pants, making you gasp as his hot breath made contact with your cunt.

Heeseung barely gave you a moment to catch your breath before diving back in, his tongue lapping at your soaked folds as if he couldn’t get enough of you. Your thighs shook uncontrollably because of the sudden movement; your body was already overwhelmed, but he showed no signs of stopping. Heeseung groaned into you, the wet, obscene sounds filling the room as he worked you over with relentless precision.

Heeseung was out of his mind; he missed you so bad that he wouldn't mind not feeling his face afterwards if the reason behind it were your sweet thighs on each side of his face suffocating him and shaking with the beautiful background music of your loud moans asking for mercy, but he loves it.

“Fuck, Heeseung, please,” you gasped, your voice already hoarse from screaming his name. You tugged at his hair, desperate for a break, but he only grinned against your core, his eyes flicking up to meet yours.

He sucked hard on your swollen clit, his tongue swirling and flicking with expert skill as he knew your body completely; your whole body convulsed in response. You were shaking, crying out his name over and over as pleasure rippled through you in waves, each one more intense than the last. Your vision blurred, the world spinning as you lost yourself completely to the sensations he was pulling from your body.

“Heeseung, I—fuck!” Your words broke off in a scream as another orgasm tore through you, your body arching off the bed as you gripped the sheets like a lifeline. You were so sorry for the neighbors, but God, he was doing such a good job. Heeseung groaned in satisfaction, his tongue working you through it as you trembled and bucked uncontrollably, the tip of his nose sometimes touching your swollen clit.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust. “Scream for me, baby. Let them hear how good I make you feel.”

You were barely coherent, your body reduced to a quivering, overstimulated mess beneath him. Heeseung’s fingers dug into your thighs, keeping you exactly where he wanted as he devoured you like a man starved. The pressure was too much, the pleasure too intense, but all you could do was moan and beg, your voice cracking with each desperate plea.

“Heeseung, please,” you cried out, feeling yourself teetering on the edge of another release. “I can’t—I can’t take it.”

Heeseung pulled back just enough to flash you a wicked grin while his fingers started to go inside you, his lips glistening with your arousal as he moved his fingers fast, touching your sweet spots that made you roll your eyes. “Oh, you’ll take it, angel. You’ll take everything I give you.”

Before you could protest, he dove back in, his tongue fucking you relentlessly as his thumb pressed against your clit, sending a fresh wave of pleasure crashing over you. You screamed his name louder than ever before, your body convulsing as yet another orgasm ripped through you, leaving you breathless and shaking.

Heeseung finally pulled away, his face drenched, but his smirk was pure satisfaction. “That’s my good girl,” he murmured, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he watched you struggle to catch your breath. He took the back of your head to kiss you again, rough and passionate; you were so into the kiss that you didn't feel his hand going back to your entrance, making you cry.

He began to enter his fingers inside you, a particular motion making you shut your eyes and legs, but Heeseung wasn't about to let you close yourself off from him. With a low chuckle, he used his free hand to pry your thighs back open, his eyes dark and filled with pure, unrelenting desire.

"Don’t hide from me, angel. I want to see every reaction I pull out of you," he whispered against your lips. His voice had authority in it that was very clear, and it was your first time hearing this voice in him. He moved his fingers with a torturous rhythm, curling and pressing exactly where he knew it would drive you over the edge again, for the third time.

Your body responded helplessly, hips bucking as his fingers plunged deeper, reaching that sensitive spot that left you seeing stars. You gasped, clinging to him as the pressure built unbearably, your body tensing with the inevitable release he was forcing from you.

“Hee—Heeseung, please,” you begged, your voice choked with pleasure, your hands grasping at his shoulders, nails digging in as you felt yourself unraveling, but he didn’t let up. He drove his fingers faster, his thumb finding your swollen, sensitive clit again, rubbing with expert precision that had your thighs trembling.

His eyes were locked on you, watching the way your face contorted in pleasure and the way your body arched and quivered beneath him.

You shattered, your body convulsing around his fingers as a wave of intense pleasure overtook you, leaving you completely undone. Your release spilled over as Heeseung coaxed every last tremor from you, his hands still working you through it; half of his still-dressed arm was wet with your squirt. He once again put his mouth on your clit, and that when you lose it.

Heeseung moaned against you, his deep, satisfied groan vibrating through your core as he eagerly lapped up every bit of your release. His mouth never stopped moving, his tongue swirling and flicking over your overly sensitive clit, creating another wave of pleasure out of you even as your body trembled and twitched from the intensity.

Your breaths came out in ragged pants as you lay there, boneless and thoroughly spent, Heeseung’s satisfied grin hovering above you, his fingers going to your mouth.

Heeseung’s eyes darkened as you parted your lips, welcoming his fingers into your mouth. He pressed them gently onto your tongue, a soft, possessive smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he watched you. "Taste yourself for me, angel," he murmured, each word dripping with satisfaction and a hint of pride.

You closed your lips around his fingers, tasting your own sweetness, the heat in his gaze intensifying as you obediently sucked, swirling your tongue over his fingertips. His free hand caressed your cheek, his thumb tracing gentle circles, contrasting the intensity of everything that had just happened.

"That’s my girl," he murmured. You lost count of how many orgasms your boyfriend gave you with his mouth only, but you honestly didn't care. He unbuttoned his pants to take his dick out of his underwear. You licked your lips, seeing how his dick stood tall and proud, leaking cum only to the sight of you at his mercy was making you feel everything despite getting "punished.".

Heeseung let out a low chuckle as he noticed the way your eyes trailed his whole length. “Go to the floor, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Return the favor.”

You did as he said, legs shaking, but your will to give him was bigger. His fingers trailed down to your chin once on the floor, lifting your gaze to meet his—that familiar spark of challenge in his eyes. He leaned back, positioning himself as he stroked his length, waiting for you to take him in. You crawled forward, feeling the anticipation build as he held himself steady, guiding you closer. With his dick, he slapped your cheeks and mouth, making you open it again.

Slowly, you wrapped your lips around him, savoring the taste of him as you took him deeper, inch by inch, until his tip hit the back of your throat. He let out a sharp groan, his hand weaving into your hair to gently guide your movements, his hips subtly rocking in time with your rhythm.

“Look at you, angel,” he breathed out, his voice filled with admiration and heat. “Taking me so well. You have no idea how good you look like this.” He tightened his grip on your hair, encouraging you to go deeper, his breath hitching every time you swallowed around him.

Your view started to get glossy; you weren't holding back the moans each time he thrust into your mouth; your hands went to his teeth to keep your balance, but he separated them out, making you whine.

“Missed your pretty mouth; always do wonders,” he groaned, his head tilting back as you moved in perfect rhythm, pulling every reaction from him that you could.

As you worked him, his hips started to rock a little harder, his groans turning into soft, filthy praises. “That’s it, baby. Take all of me—let me feel that pretty throat,” he rasped, gripping your hair tighter as he lost himself in the sensation. "Hands behind your back."

You did as he told you, hands behind you like you were cuffed, his palm firm at the back of your head, starting a slow pace. You could see how his legs got slightly shaky, but he was holding it; he was trying to prolongue as much as possible to cum right there.

Heeseung’s breathing grew ragged, his gaze darkening as he watched you obediently with your hands behind your back, looking up at him with those pleading eyes. “Just like that,” he murmured, his voice dripping with desire as he thrust deeper, testing your limits. His hands gripped your hair even tighter, keeping you in place as he began to lose his restraint, his control slipping.

“God, you’re perfect,” he groaned, his eyes rolling back momentarily. “You’re taking it so well, baby. Can feel you fighting to keep that throat open for me,” he continued, a wicked smile appearing on his lips as he watched you try to keep your composure. “Messy for me… so eager.”

Heeseung’s hips snapped forward harder, filling your throat as he watched you struggle to take him fully. His hand tightened in your hair, pulling your head back slightly before driving himself deeper, testing just how much you could take.

“Come on, choke on me, drool, make a mess of that pretty mouth.” The thrill in his tone sent a shiver down your spine as you felt yourself giving in, the sounds coming from you louder, wetter. Every time he hit the back of your throat, a needy, guttural whimper escaped, pushing him even closer to the edge due to the vibrations your moans were giving to all of his dick.

“God, you look wrecked,” he groaned, his voice thick with satisfaction as he thrust even harder, holding you in place. “Exactly how I like you. You’re taking all of me so perfectly. Such a good fucking whore.”

You had tears running down to your face; he let your mouth free, making you gasp for air. Your sore throat was worth it seeing your boyfriend sitting in bed due to his weak legs, pumping his length so fast with his eyes fully shut in pleasure.

You got near him, your mouth open and eyes shut, knowing what's about to come. You felt cum shots splashing on your face and tongue.

He groaned, the sounds rough and guttural as he emptied himself over your lips, cheeks, and tongue, each pulse driving him deeper into his heart. Your face was a mess, and you didn’t even care—every drop felt like a victory, a sign of how completely you’d unraveled him.

“God, what a view,” he panted, chest heaving as he took in the sight of you covered in him, lips parted, breath coming in shallow gasps.

You slowly wiped a finger across your cheek, gathering some of his release before slipping it between your lips, never breaking eye contact. The heat in his gaze reignited, and he reached for you, pulling you onto his lap, his fingers tangling into your hair as he leaned in close.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he murmured, his voice dark and dripping with lust. His mouth claimed yours hungrily, tasting the remnants of himself on your lips, his hands sliding possessively down your back as he guided you into his lap, feeling you warm and ready against him.

“Think you can handle more?” You nodded eagerly. He already made you see the stars with his mouth and fingers, but his dick was the one you were waiting for. You needed him.

He left you laid on the bed covered in a few rose petals as he went to the box he loved to open every once in a while in your closet. He went again to the bed, opening the box and surprising himself with something in it, taking it in his hands with some ideas running through his mind.

"Mind you to tell me what's this?" He held up the object, and you smiled.

"I decided to be lazy for Halloween and be the female version of that character," you answered, and he dropped it to the bed. He started to strip all of his clothes on. Eyes on you as usual, but you can see something in his eyes, mischieve. "Why the question?"

"Because you won't need it anymore," he said, finally revealing all his naked body, his length slowly getting worked up again as you opened your legs, your inner thoughts sticky.

"Why?"

"Because I'm using it to fuck you." Your mouth left a moan as he put on the ghostface mask, his hand gripping his length, pumping it once again. He looked at the box, looking for something specific. He showed it up to you—the pink anal plug.

Your cheeks flushed as he held the plug between his fingers, eyes gleaming darkly from behind the mask. He looked every bit the sinful predator he was tonight, and you felt a rush of excitement course through you at the thought of him taking control so completely.

“On your knees,” he ordered, his voice muffled by the mask, but the command in his tone was unmistakable. You complied, heart racing as you turned and positioned yourself, head down, hips raised, feeling the cool air against your skin. The anticipation was electric, each second stretching longer as you heard him move behind you, the rustle of the rose petals intensifying your awareness.

He leaned down, his breath hot against your neck even through the mask, and you felt his hands glide down your body, his fingers brushing over every curve as he spread your cheeks, admiring the sight. He teased you, letting the blunt end of the plug trace along your sensitive skin, a reminder of what he had planned.

"Such a good girl," he murmured. You felt him spitting into your hole and later adding a decent amount of lube to it.

You shivered at the feel of the cool lube and the heat of his breath as he worked his fingers around the sensitive ring of muscle, loosening you slowly with practiced ease. Each press, each teasing circle, sent a shiver up your spine as he prepared you, letting his fingers slide in just enough to make you gasp and arch back, craving more.

“Fuck, you're so tight,” he growled, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he watched you squirm under his touch. “So tight I'm going crazy."

With his other hand, he rubbed the head of his cock along your slick folds, collecting your wetness. He pressed in just slightly, just enough to make you whimper, before he pulled back, laughing lowly as he saw the desperate look in your eyes. Then, with one hand still gripping the plug, he pushed it in slowly, inch by inch, his other hand splaying across your back to hold you down firmly.

You moaned, feeling the stretch as he settled the plug deep inside you, leaving you open, vulnerable, and aching for him. The fullness was dizzying, and your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more friction and making you clench around nothing.

“Stay still,” he ordered, voice harsh through the mask as he smacked your ass hard, the sting only adding to your arousal. He took a moment to admire his handiwork before diving again to the box. He smiled behind the mask when he found that pink, lush, remote-controlled vibrator.

He stood up to take both your and his phone. With your phone, he quickly set up the vibrator, and with his, he opened his voice note app, hitting record and putting it right next to you.

He gave more spanks to your ass, which let your moans out and shut your eyes in delight.

"Baby, do you want to remind yourself what have you done?" The mask made his voice sound haunting, sending a thrill through you down your spine.

"I sexted you while you were on a Weverse live today." Heeseung started to align the vibrator, the tip of it pressing firmly against your second entrance.

“You don't even deserve to be like this, but I love how you're so obedient.” His voice was almost a growl as he began to slide it inside, filling you completely. You gasped when you felt his hand going around your neck, putting a slight preassure on it, lifting you to only be on your knees. You could only see his mask, but you didn't have to know the face he had, a pure bliss one.

"Are you going to be good for me?" you nodded.

"Yes…"

"Yes, what?" You smirked a little at the question.

"Yes, daddy." The vibrator inside you started abruptly, and you went back to your initial position, sitting on your pillow with the phone next to you and your ass all up for him to see your wet entrance.

A low chuckle escaped him as he watched your body react to the sudden vibrations, hips grinding involuntarily as the toy buzzed deep inside you. He tightened his grip on your waist, steadying you, enjoying how you squirmed under his touch.

“Look at you, baby,” he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement and lust. “You’re already shaking, and I’ve barely started.”

He leaned down, his gloved hands sliding up your sides as he brought his mouth close to your ear. “You really think you deserve my cock after teasing me like that?” His fingers grazed along your neck, applying just enough pressure to send a shiver through you, his grip both possessive and thrilling.

You gasped, the vibrations intensifying inside you, making you clench and arch back against him, desperate for more of his touch. His free hand moved down to stroke his length slowly, making sure you could hear every sound of him.

He eased the vibrator up to its highest setting, chuckling darkly as your moans filled the room. With his other hand still recording, he whispered, “Keep making those sounds, baby. I want a reminder of how needy you get for me.” His fingers traced along your jaw, forcing you to look forward as he positioned himself right behind you, letting the head of his cock press teasingly at your entrance, brushing back and forth.

“Are you ready to be filled completely?” he asked, his voice a seductive growl, every word dripping with the promise of complete control.

“Yes! Daddy, please,” you whimpered, barely able to hold yourself steady.

Without another word, he took the vibrator and pushed himself into you, the stretch overwhelming as he filled you inch by inch.

With a final thrust, he filled you completely, making you cry out as he began to move, each thrust driving you higher, deeper, until your moans filled the room and he was lost in the feeling of you clenched tight around him.

“That’s it, baby. Take everything. You wanted this,” he groaned, his voice heavy and possessive, each word sending another surge of desire through you as he claimed you completely, the mask hiding his face but not the intensity behind every movement.

His fingers grazed along your neck, tightening it on your neck, pulling you back just enough so he could whisper in your ear, “You wanted to act up, didn’t you, baby? Teasing me like that in front of everyone, knowing I’d have to punish you.”

Your breath hitched, his words sending a thrill through you. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you whimpered, though you could barely hold back a smirk, loving the way he was taking control.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, princess,” he growled, his grip firm as he forced your hips down onto him with each deep thrust, his cock filling you completely. “You’re going to remember tonight every time you sit down. Got it?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you moaned, the words slipping from your lips as his hand slid down your body, gripping your waist firmly, holding you in place as he drove into you mercilessly. All of you were on fire, overwhelmed with sensation.

“Such a cockslut,” he continued as he picked up the pace. “Such a needy little thing, so desperate for Daddy’s cock, aren’t you?”

“Yes! Yes, I need it,” you gasped, unable to contain the need in your voice as he filled you over and over, your body melting under his rough touch. His fingers dug into your hips, holding you exactly where he wanted, and you loved every second of it.

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice softer but no less intense as he watched you. “Daddy loves seeing you like this, all spread out and taking me so well.”

You could only moan in response, the words driving you closer to the edge. He pulled back briefly, watching you tremble, and then slapped your ass hard, making you gasp as the sting mixed deliciously with the pleasure.

“I want to hear you beg for it,” he commanded, his voice a dangerous whisper. He took the plug and exchanged it with the vibrator, turning it up even higher, the relentless buzzing driving you wild to the point you were seeing stars. “Beg Daddy to fill you up.”

“Please, Daddy,” you moaned, every nerve alight as you pressed back against him, desperate for more. “Please, I need you to fill me up. I need you to own this pussy.”

A wicked grin spread across his face as he heard your desperate pleas. “That’s my cumslut,” he said, finally slamming into you with full force, his rhythm relentless as he gave you everything you’d been begging for.

And as his thrusts grew rougher, your body trembling under him, his grip on your hips tightened even further, his voice a low, satisfied growl. “This is what you get when you tease Daddy, baby. Don’t ever forget it.”

"Fuck, yes! Harder, Mr. Ghostface."

The sound of your new nickname for him seemed to ignite something even darker in Heeseung. His grip on your hips tightened as he slammed into you with renewed intensity, each thrust harder and deeper, his breaths ragged behind the mask.

“Oh, you like calling me that, huh?” he growled. “Calling for Mr. Ghostface to ruin you.” He punctuated his words with a sharp slap to your ass, making you gasp and arch back against him, your skin tingling from the sting.

He slid his hand down, gripping your throat as he held you still, his other hand pressing the vibrator firmly into you.

“You’re Daddy’s little slut, aren’t you?” He murmured, his voice laced with approval and lust as he kept up his punishing rhythm. “Answer, princess.”

“Yes, Daddy, I’m yours,” you whimpered, the words tumbling from your lips as he drove you higher, your body at his mercy. He stopped for a second to look for a particular diddle.

Knowing what's about to happen, you fully lay on the bed. You extend your arm to catch the forgotten lube and put it again all over your entrance and on Heeseung's length. He slowly took out the vibrator from there to enter his dick, a groan leaving your mouth in a cry as he touched your sweet spot again.

He gave you the dildo, "Fuck yourself with it."

You put the dildo where his dick was before, and it slipped so easily, yet you were tight looking at the mask. But even when his whole face was covered, the piercing stare could be felt miles away.

Heeseung’s eyes darkened as he watched you obey through the mask, his breaths heavy and controlled, each one fueling the intensity between you. "Such a good little slut for Daddy," he rasped, his voice muffled but dripping with authority as his gaze raked over you. The way you filled yourself with the dildo had him throbbing, barely holding back as he watched you move it in and out, slick and needy under his command.

He reached down, his hands caressing your thighs before gripping them firmly, his fingers digging into your skin as he positioned himself at your entrance again, the dildo still moving inside you. He leaned close, his masked face inches from yours as he spoke, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. “Keep going, baby. Show Mr. Ghostface just how desperate you are.”

With each thrust of both, the dildo on your cunt and his dick on your other hole, you whimpered, your body arching into him, lost in the pleasure of following his every instruction.

"Fuck! Daddy!" you screamed, tears slipping again to your cheeks bc of the pleasure, you could feel yourself drooling as you were getting fucked numb.

“That’s it, princess,” he murmured, voice full of pride and possessiveness. “Take it nice and deep. Show Daddy just how much you can handle.”

Your pace quickened, moans spilling from your lips as you met each thrust with the toy, the fullness of it making you feel more needy, the stretch and rhythm heightening every nerve in your body. The feeling of him filling you completely and the toy thrusting within you was overwhelming, and you were losing yourself in the pleasure of it all.

He leaned in close, pressing his lips to your ear, his voice dark and possessive. “Such a good little bitch, taking it so well,” he growled, each word sending shivers down your spine. “You love being Daddy’s toy, don’t you?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you managed to breathe out, your words laced with need as you moved in perfect rhythm, every thrust driving you closer to the edge. “I love it... I love being yours.”

“Good girl,” he praised, tightening his grip just enough to make your heart race. “Now, keep going. I want you to cum with me inside you, and I want you to feel every single second of it.”

The intensity of his words drove you wild that you felt yourself spiraling over the edge, your entire body trembling as you squirt, his name spilling from your lips in a broken cry. Heeseung followed soon after, his grip tightening as he buried himself deep, his groans blending with your own sounds of pleasure.

When he finally released his hold on you, he leaned back, admiring the sight of you—breathless, trembling, and entirely his as he was entirely yours.

He took the mask off still burried inside you, his hair got messed up, his eyes were so glossy of lust and his face was red, he threw away the mask, starting a new slow pace. He took both of your legs to put them over his shoulders, both of your moans combining at the feeling of overstimulation.

"Open that pretty mouth for me." you did as he said, his spit landing on your tongue as you swallow it, "You're the best gift I've ever had, God."

"Happy birthday, Daddy." your back arched as his pace got faster and it didn't take long to give him another squirt, this time bigger as your throat hurting from how much you let him know how good he made you feel. He left your inside to have his face between your legs once again, taking again all of the squirt mixed with his cum, hugging your legs in the process to not make you move anywhere.

Both decided to end the night when he let his face burry in between your breasts, catching his breathe along with you. One of your hands went straight to his hair to brush some strings of hair that were attached to his forehead due to the sweat and the other stop the voice note.

"Did you like your birthday night?" you said, and Heeseung laughed, knowing how both of you wouldn't be able to even wake up for the next day.

"It was perfect," he replied, his voice still a bit husky from the night’s activities. He left your body to lie next to you, both of you facing each other. "We should clean the bed and sleep on the inflatable bed you have; we’ve definitely… uh, made a bit of a mess."

"We must, but... fuck, we just had sex like bunnies," you panted, and he laughed once again, this time, you joined in.

Heeseung’s laughter was infectious, filling the room with warmth and lightness “At least we’re not the only ones who are tired,” he said, glancing at the crumpled sheets. “This bed is definitely in need of some TLC.”

"Get lost Heeseung." you said, unable to stop your laugh, he quickly gave you a kiss, smilling at how suddenly you got quiet and your cheeks got red.

"I'm so grateful for this 23rd birthday. Thank you for making it so… unforgettable. And I'm so sorry for all the months I left you alone, I'll make it up for you." you kissed him after he finished it.

"Honey, you're a singer, and when we got into the relationship, we knew it was going to be hard," you replied softly, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. “But I wouldn’t change a thing. Moments like this make it all worth it.”

Heeseung smiled, his eyes warm and sincere. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do,” you said, your heart swelling with affection. “I’ve always believed in us, and I know we can get through anything together.”

He nodded, pulling you closer as if to emphasize your bond. “You’re my everything, you know? I don’t want to take you for granted again.”

You looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and promise reflected back at you. “And I don’t want you to feel guilty for the past."

"I will never stop loving you, baby."

"Me neither"

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @kwiwin @hees-love @taeghi @glitterjay @caratstick @hvseung @hxxsxxng @jungwonmeover @awqken @021894s @intromortal @heeslomll @rikiluvbot @alvojake @ja3yun @jakeflvrz (adding some of my moots, but lmk if you want to be removed or add to the permanent taglist ♡)

↷ 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚢'𝚜 note: Happy belate birthday to my boy Heeseung and happy late halloween for all of you too, slowly making a comeback! SCREAM fans don't come after me pls, this is different :3 (leaving this quick edit i did of Heeseung Ghostface as a peace offering) 🦋

[toyogamii]

.｡.:*☆ satoru gojo going out of his way to buy you flowers ☆*: .｡.

"megumi, you can handle this curse while i go run some errands, right?" satoru asks, a knowing smirk on his face.

megumi scowls and wipes sweat from his brow.

"you're really just gonna leave me here?"

satoru shrugs and turns from the battle scene in front of him.

"it's a low level curse, you'll be fine, i just remembered something i have to do."

before the dark haired boy can get another word out, satoru is gone.

"asshole," he growls to himself.

meanwhile, satoru finds himself walking through the streets of the closest town. had he had any doubt in megumi's ability to deal with the curse problem he would have stayed, but as luck would have it; it was an easy mission and he now had time to turn his thoughts towards you.

you.

satoru smiles softly as he thought of the cute grin you'd give him when he brought you a gift. how'd you gasp and exclaim 'toru! you shouldn't have!' just like you did every time. he licks his lips thoughtfully as he scans the various stalls, looking for the perfect thing to get you.

his eyes land on a small flower cart and he grins. you always love when he brings you flowers. he strolls over to the cart and carefully picks through the arrangements till he finds one that was a beautiful display of colors and has your favorite flowers nonetheless.

by the time he got back to megumi, the boy was sitting on the curb, a glare etched on his face.

"all done?" satoru asks cheerfully. megumi scowls,

"you blew me off for flowers?"

"not just any flowers, y/n's favorite flowers," the sorcerer proclaims, holding them up proudly.

"i'm going to kill you."

"not before i give them these flowers you're not."

on the ride back, megumi refuses to talk, only saying a word when ijichi doesn't make a turn towards the school.

"where are we going?" he grumbles.

"i'm going home to my beautiful partner, you're going to give a mission report to the elders. you did most of the work after all."

again, megumi scowls and mumbles under his breath as satoru kicks his feet up on the dashboard and leans back with a content sigh.

he's giddy as he walks up with steps to your shared home, flowers held behind his back. he knocks on the door and hear's your voice calling out,

"just a minute!"

a few seconds later the latch clicks and you open the door, giving satoru a confused smile.

"why'd you knock, sweetie? did you lose your key again?"

he gives you a huge grin and presents you with the bouquet. you gasp excitedly, just like he knew you would.

"oh 'toru you shouldn't have!"

"saw these after the mission, knew i had to get them for you," he mumbles as he wraps his arms around you and gives you a lingering kiss.

you smile when you pull away.

"you mean while you were supposed to be working?"

"you're way more important than work," he kisses you again, pulling you inside the house and closing the door.

"oh toru, what am i going to with you?"

"gimme another kiss?"

you laugh and lean into him.

[the-californicationist]

The Old Way

Listen... I don't even know what I'm on with this. Just... don't judge me. Omfg what is wrong with me.

AO3 Link -- TW: omegaverse wildness, biting, blood, etc.

Your people are starving, and your clan's Alpha has asked you, their only remaining Omega, to give yourself up as a sacrifice to save them. So, you agree, and you are to be mated to one of the Alphas of Clan 141, praying that it is to any of them except Alpha Price. He is known to have a knot that is impossible to take, but when you finally meet him, you're not sure of what's possible anymore. Will you risk it all to be with him, even if his knot might kill you? One way to find out…

The Old Way

You couldn’t see the stars. The shroud that hung over your head was made from fine, black silk, and through its thin organza, you could barely make out the shape of the Watcher in front of you, much less the glittering galactic expanse overhead. You were wrapped like a gift, and if you wanted to save the lives of everyone you’d ever loved, you would remain cloaked in your darkness, hidden, waiting for your big moment. More than anything, you wanted to pull your veil away from your eyes just to see the familiar constellations again, to comfort yourself with their shapes, to make one last independent choice before all of your volition was stolen from you forever. 

That wasn’t the right word. You couldn’t steal something that was given freely. You were not bound, and you were certainly not forced to wear the shadowed veil against your will. You had selected this path for yourself, and now you were living through the consequences of that decision.

As the only Omega in your clan – the first one born in seventy years – you were raised on the knowledge that you may one day be asked to give up your life for your clan. After the war, life was hard, and now that your people were stuck in a seemingly endless drought, it had become even more desperate. Your clan leader, Alpha Roan, had come to you six weeks ago with a terrible look in his eyes, a palpable guilt, still wearing his mourning collar for his long-lost mate, Omega Kiran, and he had asked you if you would be willing to undergo The Exchange.

His own wife had come to your clan through The Exchange, and although they had chosen to perform a private ceremony, you knew that it had been a challenge for her. Before she died, she had taught you much about your role, but you were still a youngling, and some things were just not for you to hear at such an age. 

You thought about the years that had passed after the loss of your clan’s Omega. Alpha Roan had insisted on your education, and your training, but the idea that you would be asked to leave your clan through The Exchange was always a distant threat. But, now, here it was. You had been called by your Alpha to sacrifice yourself for their benefit; not in a marriage of love, but in a clan trade. 

You had been asked by your Alpha to think about your choice. After he left you to ponder your choice, you sat down in your chambers surrounded by your Watchers, the women who had raised you, who had taught you to read, to write, to fight, and to charm. They looked at you with the same guilty, knowing eyes, and they asked you if you were prepared to make the sacrifice. 

“You do know what awaits you at the end of The Exchange, don’t you, Omega?” Watcher Trinity had asked you quietly, holding your hands in her shaking fingers, the wrinkled skin of her knuckles folding and stretching over her thin bones. 

You nodded, “Yes, Watcher. I am to be given to a new Alpha.”

She had looked at you then, her eyes sharp and calculating, trying to figure out how she would ask her next question.   

“Do you know the way in which you will be given, Omega?” 

Her tone chilled your heart, sinking through your body like ice across a pond, freezing you in place. You waited. There was more that she needed to say, and you allowed her to explain. 

And now that you knew the truth, you felt fully prepared to accept the terms of the agreement. You would deliver your people from their strife, and any pain, any shame, and any horror that you experienced from this point onward would be in service to your clan. You hoped that would be enough solace to sustain you. There was no shame in your sacrifice, you knew that. But, in your soul, you knew that knowing a thing and experiencing a thing were two vastly disparate sides of the same coin. 

You informed your clan Alpha, holding your chin high, 

“I accept the terms of The Exchange, Alpha Roan.”

“Your people are forever in your debt, Omega. Watchers,” he addressed your caregivers, “Please make preparations in the old way of our clan.”

“The old way, Alpha Roan?” Watcher Trinity had asked, her voice giving away her apprehension.

“Yes, Watcher. We will follow the law, no matter how… upsetting it may be. Clan 141 is too powerful for us to take any undue risks. If they do not accept her, we may not survive their engagement.”

Even in your sheltered little academy, you had heard of Clan 141. Their clan was small, but it was deeply feared. If any other clan dared step out of line, the 141 were there to rain hellfire and destruction down on them until there was nothing left. They were not cruel, but they abided no violent acts in their territory, and any whisper of rekindling the war efforts or of superseding the peace treaty was dealt with swiftly and decisively. 

Before the war, kings and presidents and generals had pulled the strings. Now that the world lay in ruins, the 141 was the only thing between your small clan and total destruction from larger, more aggressive packs. The 141 was the only reason your people still had other clans to trade with; they had made sure smaller communities had access to fair market costs for food and services, and no one dared to shun your merchants now that you were under their protective wing. 

Your Watchers had done their best to ease you into your preparations. Clan 141 would be at the neutral ground in six weeks, and your team had tried to make every moment of that window meaningful in your training. They had started slowly, teaching you to stretch your untouched hole with your fingers, showing you diagrams and depictions of your own anatomy, warning you of the physical trial of taking an Alpha’s knot. 

It was mortifying when you endured your first test. Watcher Gillar and Watcher Bhin had made you sit in front of a mirror and show them your progress. You were told to clench and release the muscles of your hole on command, fluttering it to prove its strength. Then, they had produced a carved, glass phallus, expecting you to practice on a smaller model before moving you up to a more advanced size. 

You took it from their hands, looking at its curved, rigid shape with wide-eyed curiosity, trying to swallow your grief at being seen doing the unthinkable by people you considered to be your closest friends and caregivers. It almost made you regret your decision. But, your people needed you, so you rested the smooth tip of the phallus at the entrance of your hole and began to shove it inside of yourself. 

This new feeling was overwriting your mind, so alien and yet so very comforting to you, confounding in its sensations yet overwhelming in its unique, bright pleasure.

It was a struggle, but you managed to slip it into your body almost down to the large, bulbous knot on the end. The sharp pain of being entered for the first time was not as terrible as you had feared, but when you pulled the phallic rod back out of you, it was cloudy with your slick and your blood. 

“Try the knot, Omega. Your Alpha will be twice as large as this, at least. You do not want your first experience to be at the ceremony. I know that you will want to appear strong in front of the other clans.” Watcher Bhin encouraged you, holding you to her shoulder as she sat behind you, trying her best to comfort you through such a harrowing ordeal. 

You put their practice cock back inside of you, slipping down further than you had, feeling the wide anatomy pressing against your entrance, but still unable to take the full knot inside. You pushed and pulled with your muscles, just like your Watchers had taught you, but it wouldn’t budge. You were panting, sweating, and teetering on the edge of an embarrassing orgasm in front of your Watchers, and you gasped out, exasperated, 

“I can’t. I don’t think I can do this, Watcher.”

“Lay back, Omega. I will help you,” Watcher Gillar said softly, replacing your hand with hers at the base of the phallus. 

You lay down on your back against your soft pillows, trying to avoid your Watchers’ pitying eyes. Then, you felt a cool gel being applied around the sore ring of your hole; something to ease the way since there was no true Alpha present to coax your slick from your glands. Watcher Bhin had held your hand in hers, gripping you tightly, letting you squeeze her through the pain, wiping away your tears as the glass bulb of the pretend knot began to split you, stretching your body before finally popping into place.

You Watchers had comforted you for a few minutes, but then you were told to begin your meditations.

With much difficulty, you sat up, feeling the heavy knot nestled against your walls. Then, Watcher Bhin handed you a firm pillow, and you understood that you must straddle it, and that it would push the knot against you. You were to train your body and your mind to accept it so that you would have the stamina to withstand the ceremony. 

“Do not be afraid to listen to your body, Omega. We will return to help you remove it and recover. I will light some incense for you. Concentrate on your strength.”

You nodded, uncrossing your legs and settling yourself over the firm pillow, feeling the deep, sacral grind of the phallus as you set your weight against it. When you were left alone, you began your breathing techniques, but all the while, a flush was rushing across your skin, the shadow of a rising desire to come, and yet subtly different. Something whispered in your mind, and you wondered if you could call your slick down yourself, without an Alpha’s help. 

So, you tried, rocking back and forth across the pillow, churning the knot within your core, feeling the rounded tip rubbing against your deepest parts. You removed your robes, letting the flush keep you warm, watching yourself in the tall mirror, meeting your own eyes. 

It took only minutes before a true orgasm was upon you, but you tried to hold it at bay, searching through the sparkling, cracking fog of pleasure for the part of you that made you special. No Beta would survive a knotting; they never did, and it was a crime to even try. But, you were meant for it, and you knew that your Watchers’ training would not let you down. You breathed through the bliss, reaching out with your mind towards your slick, imagining it, visualizing your success, manifesting it deep within you. 

When the Watchers found you later that night, they woke you with cool rags and worried faces,

“What happened, Omega? How did you…” Watcher Gillar looked down at your bare legs to where the pillow sat under you, seeing a torrent of slick and milky come covering your skin and the silk of the bolster, confused by how you could produce it without an Alpha’s beckoning call. It was just not done, not even considered to be a possibility. 

After that night, there was much chatter amongst the Watchers. They consulted old tomes, dusting off the pages in the library of your little academy where you trained far away from the rest of your village, kept up here in your tower like a Delphic oracle, buried like a treasure. 

The training became more intense, and each practice phallus that your Watchers produced became harder and heavier, each bearing knots that were unfathomably large. You used your newfound power to face each of your challenges, less ashamed now to perform in front of your team, but knowing that the ceremony would be something else entirely. 

You had asked about it one night as your Watchers were helping you bathe after a particularly difficult practice session, 

“Will there truly be none absent from the ceremony, Watcher Trinity?”

“Only the cubs and their mothers are forbidden from attending. Otherwise, all clan members are obligated to witness The Exchange. We will even invite Clan Farlight and Clan Seres to the feast as a token of goodwill. You know this, Omega,” her tone was a little impatient, wondering why you were asking such a basic question, “Your Alpha has asked for your ceremony to be conducted in the old way, according to the original scrolls.” 

“I am worried that I will dishonor you with my abilities. I cannot seem to take even these false knots without tears,” you repeated the old scripture, chanting it rote to your Watcher just as you used to do when you had started your adult training, “Omegas are vessels. They will silently submit. The ceremony will be still, honoring the sacrifice.”

Watcher Trinity knelt down beside your bath and made you look at her. Her eyes softened, and she told you,

“Yes, that is what is written, but it is not that simple. You have already honored us with your sacrifice. We have no grain. We have skinny, milkless goats, and our well is nearly dry. When we feast after your ceremony, the full bellies of your people will mean so much more than any perceived weakness that you are reluctant to show.” She grabbed your hand out of the warm water, holding it in hers, “If you need to cry, we will understand, and we will be comforting you from the crowd. Trust me, Omega.”

You tried to put it all out of your mind as you marched down the path, following behind your Watchers as they surrounded you, adorned in their own ceremonial garb. They had worn their armor and their long, red robes, carrying huge, black scythes like walking sticks, as was the custom of your clan. Your Alpha was walking in the front of your pack, guiding your clan to the meeting point. You could just see the white, canvas tops of the tents and yurts that had been constructed for the ceremony, meant to house hundreds of people for at least three days. Yours was the biggest, its adornment the most splendid. But that was little comfort to your frayed nerves. 

You were miles from home at this point, missing the comfort of your room and your books, knowing that you would never return there, and that perhaps your new Alpha would not allow you to keep any of your belongings from your old life. 

You’d heard horror stories from some of the Betas in your clan, tales of Alphas who used their Omegas like slaves, keeping them clad in irons, surviving in dark dungeons only to be used to breed and to give their Alphas carnal pleasure. 

While you were being prepared for this journey, a pair of Beta women had helped you paint your skin, drawing intricate symbols and prayers in gold flake, chittering about the ceremony and the feast without knowing what you had been through over the past six weeks.

“This is the first time I will witness a ceremony done in the old way,” Beta Lilia said. 

“Do you know which Alpha will claim you?” Lilia’s friend, Beta Tyran, asked you, not knowing how loaded her words were.

You shook your head; you didn’t even know how many Alphas belonged to Clan 141. Lilia gushed about them for you, taking the conversation out of your hands,

“Clan 141 has four Alphas! Can you imagine? I hear that they have an entire army of Omegas as well. Alpha Garrick is so handsome, and he has three gorgeous Omegas. They are almost too beautiful to look upon.. I saw him when I was at the central market once. He was leading a team, hunting the vagabonds who set fire to a farmer’s field, you remember when that happened? It was years ago now. He was so imposing. But, that other one was there, too.” 

She made a face that was strong enough to make you ask about it,

“Which one?”

“The Ghost, Alpha Riley. They say that no one has seen his face. He wears a terrifying skull mask. I heard from Yair that he has three Omegas as his guards, all masked as well. Yes! Guards! They have armor and weapons and huge, bulging muscles. Beautiful and lethal –”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Beta Tyran interrupted, “No one would give their Omegas weapons. No one would let their Omegas out in the public markets! Imagine the danger.”

Lilia shrugged, “Yair said that these Omegas were the danger.” 

Then, you heard about Alpha MacTavish, a descendant from one of the ancient warlords, charming and fearsome. He kept two Omegas as his brides, always pregnant, but almost as fearsome as Alpha Riley’s guards. Alpha MacTavish often expected them to travel with their Beta friends, to take their children up into the mountains, hunting and fishing and exploring outdoors. All sorts of stories about his large, loving family. You silently hoped you would be claimed by him. It would be nice to live amongst Omegas and their cubs. 

“Which one is their Apex Alpha? There must be one in a clan with so many Alphas,” you mused, asking the girls since you did not know much about Clan 141 yourself.

The Betas shared a look, and then Lilia shook her head,

“You will not be claimed by him, Omega. Don’t worry.”

“Why?” You pried, using your influence to force her to tell you.

“His name is Alpha Price, the leader of Clan 141. He’s the deadliest man in the entire land, and he’s the one who destroyed Clan Konni.”

The weight of that news sank in, and the dramatic tone of her story had attracted other Betas and Watchers to gather around you to listen to her tale, 

“Alpha Price has never claimed an Omega. They say that he had tried. He had found one of Alpha Garrick’s Omegas to be very pretty, but she tried to take his knot and failed, so Alpha Garrick took her under his protection instead.”

“Failed?” Watcher Bhin asked, shocked by the implication. 

“My sister was a medic who served with the Alliance in the most recent skirmish, and the 141 helped defeat the rebels who were killing members of Clan Darrah a few years ago. She said that she served under the doctor who had healed Alpha Garrick’s Omega. Said he’d never seen anything like it before in his life. She was so strong, and yet…”

Lilia’s words hung heavy in the air, and all of the women looked at each other and then at you, suddenly feeling the weight of your sacrifice, ashamed at their earlier levity. Tyran shook her head and patted you on the arm, 

“Don’t worry. Alpha Price will not claim you. You have nothing to worry about.”

That night, painted gold and covered in your black silks, you sat in your tent and meditated while you waited for the other clans to arrive. Your mind kept wandering to Alpha Price and his lonely existence. Had he really injured an Omega during his claiming of her? How large must his knot have been to do so? It made you shudder to think about it, and yet deep inside of you, your core warmed from the thought. If he imprinted on you…

But, imprinting was just a myth. Something only written in old texts as a footnote or a story. It was a part of the ritual of The Exchange, but it wasn’t real. 

“Omega,” Watcher Trinity interrupted your meditation and peeked her head into your tent, “It is time to present The Cloth.”

Clan 141 was here, then. 

The ritual of The Exchange began with The Shroud, which you were already wearing. Then, it was The Cloth. If all went well, it would then be The Meeting. And finally, The Ceremony.

The Cloth was a gift from the Omega to her new Alpha, a token of her affection and a chance for him to smell her scent for the first time. In ancient legends, this is when her true mate would imprint upon her, her Omegan scent bringing out his Alphic marks, dark spots or stripes across his neck and back, making him look like a big cat, ready to bite into her neck and claim her as his own. 

She tried to shake herself out of that fantasy world. All she could hope was that one of their Alphas would be drawn to her scent enough to accept her. Her people were depending on her.

“Here is your cloth, Omega. I embroidered it myself. I hope that it honors you,” Watcher Trinity handed you a wooden box, carved and adorned with great care, and when you opened it, you found a red silk square of fabric, sewn with the sigils and symbols of your clan in fine gold thread. You smiled up at your Watcher and reached out to hold her in your arms,

“It’s perfect, Watcher. Thank you for caring for me.”

You were both fighting off tears when she finally pulled away. You hoped that your Alpha would at least let you say goodbye after the ceremony, even if you might never see her again. 

Watcher Trinity and all of the other women left you alone again in your tent, giving you privacy to prepare The Cloth. You made yourself naked, and you began to rub the silk across your neck and glands, trying to soak your scent into the piece. Then, you wiped it between your legs, swiping up some of your wetness to coat the fabric. Usually, this would be enough. You could call your Watcher back into the tent and give her the box, and you would be done. 

But, something in your heart told you to try to call out your slick. You listened to your instincts, and you began to rub the soft fabric against your folds, bringing your own pleasure to a warm, shining height. Just when you thought you might not be able to do it, that your nervousness would make it too difficult or that you might black out again from the effort, you felt something inside of you slip free. Then, your hole was flooded, the orgasm making your vision go blurry and form spots at the edges, your whole body convulsing from the strength of your pleasure, and you had to lay down just to try and stay awake through your gushing bliss. 

You felt it coat the silk and your hand, a thick, milky slick, and your heart swelled with pride. You knew that a gift this special would sway the attention of at least one of their Alphas. You trusted in your skills and training that you were worthy of this ceremony and that your people would be saved. 

Sitting up, you carefully opened the box and returned The Cloth to its resting place, soaked with your scent. You took time to clean yourself up, stuffing wet blankets into your laundry packs and hiding them away, remaking your nest before your Watcher would know what you had done. You weren’t sure why you were keeping a secret from them, but you just felt like this was something between you and your Alpha. A promise, of sorts. 

You replaced your black silks and veil over your otherwise unclothed body and called your Watchers. They entered your tent along with Alpha Roan. 

His eyes widened as he approached you, taking the box from your hands. Quietly, as if knowing that this was an extremely private affair, he whispered to you, 

“What have you done, little Omega?”

“I am doing what needs to be done, Alpha. Please, deliver my message to my new Master.”

You use of the ancient terminology caught your clan Alpha off guard, but you were glad of it. If this was to be done in the old way, then you would withstand it, but you would also do it your way. You were the Omega, here, and you were the reason your clan would survive this struggle. It was time you started acting like the heroine that you were. You would be your people’s strength, no matter the cost.

“Very well,” Alpha Roan sighed, closing the box, calling out to your team, “Watchers, bring your Omega to The Cloth ritual.”

You were guided to the path again, leaving your tent behind and walking towards the big, outdoor theater. It was a crude coliseum of sorts, a large circular pit lined with rows and rows of carved seating that was cut into the land. People had already begun to line the viewing platforms, each clan decorated in their traditional garb. You felt proud to see the stripe of red where your people sat, holding each others’ hands and praying for your safe arrival. 

You were not greeted with raucous applause but instead with reverent silence. Alpha Roan walked in front of your Watchers, and you were the last one into the theater, dressed only in your sheer shroud, trying your best not to feel self-conscious about the fact that - because of the firelight - everyone could see your naked, painted body through the veil, even though you were covered head to toe in the organza. In the tent, the lighting was low and kept you in darkness, hiding your body under the thin silk. But, not here in the theater. Your skin was illuminated by the torches, and you knew that even your friends and neighbors could now see your most private parts. 

You made sure that your face did not give away your lingering shame. 

Alpha Roan took center stage, and you saw the Alphas of Clan 141 for the first time. 

Alpha MacTavish was standing between his two Omegas, and you mused that his oldest children must have stayed behind to care for his cubs. He was dressed in his Clan’s black gear, covered in armor like a gladiator, his head shaven into a mohawk, spiked and messy on the crown of his head. His body was huge and stocky, and the Omegas seated at his sides looked so tiny compared to his bulk. But, they were strong. Their bellies were round with the promise of future cubs, and their skin and hair glowed like the stars. 

Alpha Garrick stood next to him, his Omegas seated together to his right, dressed in the finest robes you had ever seen. He clearly had a type, and you thought that they looked like triplets, all decorated in jewels and gold, riches you’d never even dreamt of. Their Alpha was every bit as handsome as the stories had promised. He had pouty, full lips that were curled in a snarky sort of smile, and his soft brown eyes exuded pure confidence. His hands were wide and powerful, resting on his curved blade that lay sheathed at his hip. 

Alpha Riley was masked, as you had been told, as were his Omegas. They were not seated, and every bit of armor that was strapped to his hulking body was also strapped to them. They had glittering knives, bows, arrows, and slings, looking like they could win their own war by themselves. Their bodies were heavily muscled, and all four of them seemed as tall as Alpha MacTavish, standing proudly in leather boots. 

Then, you saw Alpha Price. He was holding a large wooden stick, at least seven feet tall, with hundreds of notches sliced into the side. You wondered what he was keeping track of, and you shuddered to know. His beard was neatly trimmed, and his hair was cut high and tight on the sides. He was certainly bigger and better muscled than each of his men, but that was not what you noticed about him first. It was his eyes. They were piercingly blue, like glacial ice, and they were looking right at you. Hungry. 

Something inside of your core tightened under his scrutiny, but Alpha Roan’s voice shook you from your trance,

“Clan Arlos welcomes Clan 141 to The Exchange. We present you with our offering, an unmated Omega, 26 years of age, fully trained in the old ways of our people. She is our greatest gift, and we ask for your acceptance of our sacrifice.”

Alpha Roan held up the box with The Cloth inside for all to see. He set it on the large, marble altar in the middle of the stage and backed away from it, waiting for the other Alphas to take part in the ritual. 

Alpha Price spoke, and your body nearly trembled at the sound of his deep, purring voice. You were more nervous than you thought, and you tried to breathe to manage yourself. 

“We will consider your honorable offering, Clan Arlos.”

With that, he slammed his huge stick against the stony ground and Alpha MacTavish stepped up to the altar. He opened the box, and along with the other Alphas in attendance, his body had a visceral reaction. His hands went to touch the cloth and he brought it to his nose, smelling your scent with a sort of wonder and amazement. 

Then, to your great relief, he raised his hand, palm outward, as a show of his acceptance of your scent. If you accepted him as well, you would be mated. 

But, the slamming sound of the stick shook you out of your celebrations. Alpha Price called up Alpha Garrick. 

This was most unusual. Typically, only one Alpha had to agree. It wasn’t like you had much choice in the matter. Even if Alpha MacTavish’s scent did not stir your heart, you would still submit to him as expected. This was not a marriage of love but of convenience. 

MacTavish looked back over his shoulder at Price, just as shocked as you were. His Omegas looked even more taken aback, strangely offended that you would not automatically join them. But, Alpha MacTavish returned the cloth to the box and made room for Garrick, disappointed and visibly confused. 

Alpha Garrick opened the box and buried his face against The Cloth, breathing in once, twice, and then tasting the fabric, right in front of everyone. It was his right, but it was a little audacious. 

His palm went up, high in the air, and his Omegas smiled and held each other’s hands, excited at your acceptance. 

Another loud slam. Another rejection. 

You may still end up with MacTavish or Garrick after negotiations, you remembered, but you were now wondering why Alpha Price had chosen to test you against all three of his men before making a decision. It was very odd. Alpha Roan looked greatly concerned. 

Alpha Riley approached the altar, his gloved hands prying open the box, then, he lifted the bottom of his mask to reveal his mouth and nose. The slightest murmur of shock rippled through the crowd. He bent to smell your scent, and he raised his hand in the air, signaling his acceptance before replacing his mask. You thought you caught the hint of a smile just before his pale lips disappeared beneath the skull plate again. 

Slam! The stick pounded against the floor.

All of Clan 141 turned to look at Alpha Price at once. Your heart stopped. Why would he… Why would Alpha Price want to undergo The Cloth ritual himself? He had no Omega. Surely, he wouldn’t claim you now, not after what had happened. You watched Alpha Garrick’s Omegas. One of them stared at Alpha Price with wide, glossy eyes. You thought that it must be his prior candidate for a mate. She was afraid for you. They were all afraid.

All eyes were on Alpha Price as he approached the altar, and the entire theater was silent as he took The Cloth in his hands. He lay it out flat, in no rush, inspecting the wet stain that you had left for him, using his thumb to feel the fine, gold embroidery. Then, his eyes darted up to yours. He was the first one to look at you while he held The Cloth to his nose, that icy gaze making you tremble with anticipation. 

You were so lost in his eyes that you didn’t see what was stirring the crowd. There was a loud gasp and then an explosion of whispers. You looked around, trying to understand what was happening. Then, when he tucked The Cloth into his breast pocket, keeping you for himself, you saw it. 

Long, red lines began to stain his skin like lightning. All of his veins tattooed themselves across his neck, and although his armor was covering his shoulders, you knew that the marks would be there as well. 

Alpha Price had imprinted for you. 

Then, he silenced the crowd by raising his right hand, palm up, staring at you the entire time. 

You were whisked away, surrounded by your Watchers, hearing Alpha Roan’s voice behind you, sounding like protest, but you couldn’t make out the words. Compared to the initial silence, the area erupted in a shattering din, clans shouting and yelling over each other, the drama from the ritual dividing the people. 

You thought you would be taken back to your tent, but you were brought to a large lake about five hundred yards from the theater. It was quiet again. No one was allowed to follow you here, it seemed. 

Watcher Trinity tried to explain in a rushed whisper, helping you climb into a boat and rowing you out to the middle of the lake,

“There is a dispute for your claiming. Alpha Roan will negotiate new terms, and Clan 141 must decide who will be your Alpha. It will be alright, Omega. It’ll be alright.”

She sounded like she was trying to reassure herself more than you.

“What now?”

“Because there is not just one Alpha who has claimed you, they will undergo a ritual called The Trial. It is a fight; a test of will. Whichever Alpha can win will be granted the right to appeal to you first. If you reject him, then you will be given a chance to hear the appeal from the second.”

“So, it will be up to me, then?”

“Yes. Alpha Price has put the choice in your hands. Very odd, and not in our custom, but we must honor his wishes. You will wait here for the winner.”

You looked around. You were now in the middle of the lake, and there was a platform lingering just below the water. It was a wide stone block, about three meters wide in each direction. Watcher Trinity helped you out of the boat and you stepped tentatively onto the platform. 

“Will you wait with me?” You asked, feeling the uncertainty and fear finally get the better of you. 

“No, my Omega. I cannot. These waters are forbidden to Betas. Only Alphas and Omegas can touch it. Take this. It is your flare. If you are in trouble, if he tries to get to you, fire it high into the sky and we will rescue you. You can do this. I know you are strong. Wait patiently for your Alpha,” she paused, grabbing your hand, “I realize you are doing this for us, but please, follow your heart.”

“I will, Watcher.” 

So, you waited. You meditated, standing in an inch of cool lake water as you tried to commune with the land around you. And you waited some more. Hours passed until, finally, you saw torches. Your Watchers lined one side of the lake, and they greeted the newcomers. Then, you saw him. Alpha Price was being stripped down by your Watchers. They took his weapons from him, and then his clothes, making him naked on the shoreline. He craned his neck, trying to look for you in the lake, but it was dark and you were dressed in black. 

You could see him just fine, though. His huge body was covered in short, curly hair, dense and dark against his skin. His muscles bulged and popped as he peeled away his layers of clothing. They left his undergarments on, little more than a linen loincloth. Then, you saw your Watchers attach a huge, metal collar around his neck. They clamped it together with a padlock in the back, and a huge chain was attached at the latch. 

They bound his hands, chaining them together, and then loaded him into the boat. They rowed toward you with his back facing the platform, and as he got closer, you saw his imprint markings, red and raised like jagged scars across his neck and shoulders. Your scent had marked him permanently. The welts would go down, and the red would fade, but it would always be there, evidence of his imprinting. 

The boat reached you, and he climbed out of it, sitting on the opposite side of the platform from you, just far enough to be out of range for your scent. 

His eyes found yours again, staring at you through your veil, finding your gaze with a natural ease. He held a small box in his hands, and you thought you saw the phantom of a smile across his lips as you looked over his face. 

The boat rowed to shore, dragging the long chain all the way back, and you were alone with him. It was quiet for a long while. You were just staring at each other, studying each other, trapped in a silent battle. 

You looked down at his hands, noticing for the first time his cut, bloody knuckles, and he saw the worry cross over your eyes.

“They’re fine,” he said quietly, “My men. If that’s what you were wondering.”

“But, you triumphed over them, clearly,” you replied, not trusting your own voice. 

He chuckled a bit, sighing, 

“I did.”

“You fought for me, then.”

The laughing stopped, and he lifted his chin, proudly, 

“I did.”

“And you are here for my acceptance.”

He didn’t respond to your cue, but instead, he took the box in his hands and slid it across the platform, skittering it along the surface of the water, making little splashes as it landed in front of you. 

You reached for it, opening it up to reveal a shining key. 

“Throw it in the lake,” he commanded you, using his Alpha’s voice to bend your will. 

It shocked you, and you were so close to obeying, but you stopped, cutting your eyes at him,

“What is this?”

“Throw. It. Omega.”

His voice seared through your blood, calling to you with old magic. You fought hard to keep your mind under your own control, 

“Stop! Stop it. Tell me what this is, Alpha.”

“It unlocks my collar. Otherwise, if I make so much as a shift in your direction that they don’t like,” his head turned to look back toward your watchers, “They will pull me into the lake, and I will drown.”

“And if I unlock it…”

“Then, you will be my mate,” his tone turned vitriolic then, “And you will die.”

You let his words sink in, your curiosity overcoming your fear,

“You believe your knot cannot be taken.”

He spat back, 

“My belief is not –”

“But, it’s not up to you,” you interrupted him, “Is it?”

The shock that washed over his bright eyes filled you with a sort of sick satisfaction. You should be afraid of him, but your roles were reversed out here on this rock, and you were holding him under your command. 

“Toss that key, girl. MacTavish fought hard for you. He’ll care for you. He’s a good man.”

“Are you a good man?”

“No,” he growled, his eyes dropping to the water, examining the chains around his own hands, inspecting them for the bloodstains that he obviously thought should be there. 

“I am here for my people, Alpha Price. I am not looking for a husband. I am a resource to be traded for other resources. My clan needs The Exchange. Our people are starving, and I –”

“I would not let them starve,” Price’s eyes shot back up, indignant that you would suggest that he would leave you and your clan without food or water. 

You let yourself smile slightly, teasing him, 

“Spoken like a good man.”

He twisted his lips over his teeth, but he stayed quiet. You continued to torment him, 

“Why did you raise your hand for me?”

He sighed, sitting forward, sloping his shoulders toward you,

“I couldn’t help it. My Alpha…He…” He paused, searching for the words, “I could smell you through the box. I knew you from the moment I saw you walk through the arena. And when my men all raised their hands for you, I knew you would be accepted as our Clan Omega. You are mine in every way that matters. And I cannot have you.”

His voice was full of bitterness. You wanted to smell him. What were the chances that he was your true mate? One-sided imprinting was rare, but true mates were one in a million. 

You stood, surprising him, and he jolted back, sitting up right. The chain around his wrists clattering. You looked over at the shoreline. Your Watchers held the long chain around his neck, heavy and sagging into the black water, ready to yank it tight if he lunged for you, if he fell prey to his Alphic instinct to breed you. 

He watched you approach, seeing how the water rippled with every step you took, gazing upon the dripping silks that clung to your legs, devouring you with his eyes. You stopped in front of his crossed legs, Knowing that he could smell you now. Your pussy was shielded only with a few layers of silk, and you watched him flare his nose, sniffing you right in front of his face, blowing a slow exhale of air through his lips, making the organza billow between your legs. 

“Can I smell your scent, Alpha?” You whispered, your voice slicing through the silence of the still lake. 

His chains clattered as he twisted his head to look up at you, peeling his eyes away from your pretty pussy to meet your gaze. Then, he bent his head to one side, giving you his neck, showing you his scent gland, a sea of red stripes emanating from its center. 

You bent over him, closing the gap, steadying yourself by laying a gentle hand on his huge shoulder. Then, you took a long pause and breathed him in. His scent swirled through your body, wrecking your other senses. It was only him. Alpha. Alpha. Alpha. Your Alpha. Your mate. Your true mate. 

You felt the red marks of your imprint streak across your skin, and his eyes widened in shock as he saw them branch through your veins and across your gland just as his had done. 

The click of a lock made his eyes flash back to you, and with that movement, his heavy collar tumbled into the lake, the drag of the chain singing as it scraped the side of the platform. 

“What have you done, my Omega?” Price breathed. 

It was the second time you’d been asked that question. Your response was still the same:

“I am doing what needs to be done, Master. I am giving myself to you, my true mate.”

The boats were in the water the moment the collar slipped from his neck. The Watchers were on you in moments, and Price’s Beta soldiers were there to collect him. You watched as they rowed you two apart, taking you back to your camps to prepare for the ceremony. 

Your Watchers were in a rush. There were only a few hours until sunrise. Your wet robes were switched out for red ones, and a red veil adorned your head. Underneath, you were rubbed and painted and sprayed with oils, until finally, Watcher Trinity came forward with a bowl of salve. She had made it herself, you could tell. She cared for you so deeply. 

“I trust you, Omega. I know you know what you’re doing. But, please take this. It will help your muscles relax for him, and it will make it easier to bring on your natural defenses.”

She was being coy, avoiding using the word to refer to your slick, knowing that you had your own method of calling it forth using your special power. But, you took it from her anyway, and after you were left alone again to meditate, you used two fingers to massage it into your hole, feeling its effects begin to warm you, making your flesh supple and pliant. 

A hand curled around your tent flap, pulling it open. Instead of your Watcher, you saw one of Garrick’s Omegas. It was her, the one who had failed to take your Alpha’s knot.

She stepped inside,

“May I speak with you?”

You nodded, motioning for her to sit,

“Yes, but I’m afraid I already know what you are about to say.”

Her eyes widened, 

“If you know, then why have you accepted this? Alpha MacTavish was his second. He is not to your liking? His Omegas are kind and –”

“No, they were all to my liking. I am eager to join your pack in whichever way I can, but Alpha Price is my true mate.”

You showed her your skin from under the red silks, knowing she could not see them through the red of the veil. She gaped at them, 

“Your… true mate? He could… This could kill you, Omega. I don’t want to see you come to harm, and it would destroy him. I saw how he was after my accident. I nearly blamed myself for his deep sorrow.”

“I trust my training, Omega, and I am so grateful for your support, but he is my mate. What is meant to happen to me, will.” You stood with her, seeing your Watchers hovering just outside the tent, signaling them that you were ready to leave. 

“Then, I trust you as well. The others are so excited to meet you. I wish you an easy path, and I hope your ceremony is just as you want it to be. After this, you will be our Clan Omega, and I will serve you until the end of my days.”

She kissed your cheek through your veil and left you to be delivered back to the altar. 

For a long time, you had wondered if this final walk away from your pack would be a sad one. You expected every step to be filled with hesitation and fear. But, the only thing you felt was joy. Your mate awaited you at the end of this long path, and you were ready to submit to him. He was worthy of your strength, and he would help you deliver your people from danger. You would rule beside him, helping him use the 141 for good, eradicating the evil from your land. 

The sun’s pink wash was rising out of the horizon line just as you reached the theater. The crowd was silent again, and you saw the pallor and shock painted on all of their faces. They were expecting a funeral instead of a feast. They had no idea why anyone would be so desperate as to sacrifice their only Omega to this Alpha, especially when it was not necessary. But, they didn’t realize that you were no prisoner. You were no one’s puppet. You were in charge, here, and your Alpha would breed you as you commanded him to. 

Your Watchers led you to the altar, kissing your hands through the thin cloth as they passed you to take their seats near Clan Arlos, tears in their eyes and staining their cheeks, and finally, your clan Alpha approached you.

“Alpha Roan,” you greeted him. 

“Little Omega,” he smiled, kissing your hands just as your Watchers had done. He didn’t need to, but it was his way of showing everyone that he trusted your choice, “I hope you know what you are doing.”

“I do,” you said, smiling at him through your red silk veil. 

Then, Alpha Price’s men came through the center of the theater, each of them bending to kiss your hands. But, instead of the back of your knuckles, they turned them over to kiss your palms, a sign that they would accept what you had to give them. Alpha Riley was first, and he lifted his mask to show you his mouth and chin, his kiss warm and tender against your skin. Then, Alpha Garrick knelt down, placing multiple kisses along your fingers and wrists, displaying his loyalty and respect. Finally, Alpha MacTavish knelt before you, daring to whisper to you as he kissed your palms, 

“Brave lass.”

You used your thumb to pet his lip, acknowledging his trust in you. 

Then, it was time for the Omegas to join you. They approached as a unit, not individually as their Alphas had done, and they helped you lay on the altar, guiding your body back onto the marble platform. They pulled at your silks, allowing the crowd to see your naked body, painted in fine brushes of intricate gold designs, of prayers and songs of your people, their symbols adorning you from neck to toe. Finally, they began to kiss you, licking and sucking at your mouth like lovers, showing their devotion to you as their clan Omega. 

As they kissed you, your skin began to flush hot, your body somehow knowing what was about to happen to you. The Omegas felt your fire against their lips, and they pulled your legs apart, each of them bending to lick and suck at your flower’s drooling petals, slurping and sucking up your creamy nectar. They were at your breasts, your neck, your belly, your hands and feet. You were overwhelmed with pleasure, shaking and trembling under their affection, yet moved by their deep loyalty. You knew you would be safe with them. They would care for you just as your clan had done. 

Then, you heard the familiar slam of a longstaff. Your Alpha had arrived. 

According to the ceremony, you were meant to be still and silent as a showing of your acceptance. If you moved or cried out in any way, you risked a clan war, as taking a mate without their consent was a dark offense. You had to prove to your people that you were here of your own free will, and even though you were feeling the static cling of apprehension beginning to worm its way into your chest, you tried to breathe through it, trusting your Alpha to lead you through this moment with his protective power. 

Your legs were lowered to the stirrup-style rests that were carved just below the stone table, keeping your knees wide apart, allowing your pussy to drip openly, glistening with the beginnings of your slick. You calmed yourself as they left you alone, each of them kissing you softly once more to show their reverence. 

Then, you heard the clatter of fallen armor. He was undressing, removing his warlord’s mantle and coming to you fully bare. You spotted him between the vee of your legs as he approached the dais, his imprint marks flushed a deep wine red, his body shining with the traditional oils, meant to give him another layer of aphrodisiacs, promoting his production of his seed, keeping his cock tall and hard. 

But, you knew that your imprint on his gland would do more than all of their drugs combined. He would kill every last person in this arena to get to you at this point, and although you had consented to this joining, you were no longer controlling it. He would take you, no matter what. 

Then, when he got close enough to your platform, you saw it. It was standing proudly against his thick, furry belly, dripping with precome and lubricants, glittering in the rising sun. His cock was immense. You had not practiced on one so large. And his knot was larger than your two fists pressed together. He was intact, and his foreskin was slipping down his flushed head, unable to contain the swelling glans. Your body threatened to quiver from your suspense, and you tried to move your mind into your meditative trance. 

As he approached, he did not go straight for his position between your legs. Instead, he walked around the front of the marble platform and bent to look you in your eyes, leaning his head down for a deep, heady kiss. He fed you his tongue and suckled on yours, letting it writhe inside of his mouth, rubbing against his own probing muscle.

He pulled away to gaze upon you, his eyes soft and full of joy. You smiled up at him, watching as he enjoyed the rest of your body, caressing your breasts, admiring your paintings. 

“Did my clan show you their loyalty, my Omega?”

“Yes, Master,” you answered quietly. 

“Are you prepared for me to show you mine?”

“Yes, Master. I am,” you replied, giving him a brave face despite the absolute weapon that was slobbering for you against his belly. You wanted to taste it, but now was not the time. 

He returned to the base of your platform, kneeling in front of your wet hole, bending to place his mouth against you. He began to suck, pulling your soft lips into his mouth like he was starving, lapping up the beginnings of your body’s fluids, moaning from the taste and the smell of your scent. You wanted to moan, you wanted to pin his head to your trembling quim, but you didn’t dare move a muscle or make a single sound. Breathing in, breathing out, letting the sparks of an orgasm rush through you, bringing tears to your eyes from holding back so much pleasure. 

Your Watcher’s salve was almost too effective. It had made you pliant, but now you were beyond sensitive, able to feel the pound of your own heartbeat through your hole, desperate for something to press inside of you. You needed his cock. 

But, he did not give it to you. He just sucked and sucked and sucked, and his fingers began to rub along the entrance of your slippery hole, pressing down on your pussy’s walls, testing their strength. You fluttered for him, just like your Watchers had taught you, and you felt him stumble in his movements, shocked by your power. 

He stood between your legs, his face and beard soaking from his meal, letting you drip off of his chin like a messy hound drinking from a river. Then, to test your resolve, he teased you with a little bit of meanness, stepping forward to let his cock lay along your body, measuring himself on the outside of you. He reached far beyond your navel, his lubed phallus warm and heavy, his knot resting in the softness of your folds, and you could feel him throbbing for you. 

You didn’t dare move, but you wanted to cradle his cock in your hands, to rub up and down his length, to feel the smoothness of his head and the firmness of his knot. But, you stayed stock still, showing the crowd that you would not waver. There was some soft chittering from the clans, the shock at his size obviously enough to break onlookers out of their respectful quiet. 

Then, he began notching his head at the entrance of your pussy, letting the tip slide up and down your tight ring of muscles that guarded your entrance.      

“Last chance, Omega. Call it off. Cry out, and my own men will cut me down,” he bade you under his breath, having a hard time holding his words and sentences together, his voice shaking in his throat. 

You looked up at him with closed lips, making a point to give him a soft smile as a response. 

No deal. 

You pulsed your muscles again, making your pussy lap up his sloppy precome like a little mouth, watching as he was torn apart by your action, no matter how minor. 

So, without any other choice, he fed himself into you. It was a fearsome experience, at first. You weren’t sure if you could actually handle him. But, you breathed through the stress, relaxing your body, finding that deep, secret place inside of you, making your slick drop down for him, flooding your hole to welcome him in. 

The confusion that painted his face was so satisfying. He couldn’t understand the sheer warmth and comfort he was experiencing. His cock was being sucked into you, deeper and deeper, and finally, you felt his knot. 

He pulled all the way out of you, and sheathed himself all the way back in, always reaching to that one spot, just above his bulbous anchor, and then starting his process over again. Each time his cock fucked its way through your body, humping himself into you, creamy, milking noises filled the quiet, open-air arena. The whole ensemble could hear him invading your hole, the lurid slap of skin on skin loud and unashamed. 

His phallus was large enough to rub against your most sensitive spot over and over, bullying it into producing more and more slick, making you come just by dragging his heavy cockhead over it, in and out, in and out, pounding into you with almost reckless need. 

You came for him, and your body began to shiver from the overwhelming bliss, but you held your voice. You tried to still yourself, not wanting to show weakness, but there was nothing you could do. You were shattered by his cock, coming over and over again. It was an endless wave. You had no idea where one started and the other stopped. 

You could taste blood in your mouth from biting the inside of your cheek. Still, you pushed through it, testing yourself with every push and pull of your body. 

His huge hands pawed at your hips and breasts, squeezing you, watching your plump flesh jiggle with every cruel strike of his hips. Your Alpha took your own slick and began to rub it all over your skin, swirling it around your nipples, letting it smear across your belly from his palm. Then, he painted himself, taking it from your well-fucked hole and rubbing it across his scent gland, down his chest, matting his hair with your wetness. 

Then, you felt his precome begin to pump out of him. You knew it had begun because this was when your slick was meant to wash through you, but there was no space for anything else. So, it began to pour out of you and over his knot. Every time he pushed it against your body, it threatened to slip into your hole, and you were filled with a twisted excitement, ready for it to be stuck inside of you, to churn and grind against your insides, to trap you in a blinding, rageful bliss. You nearly cried out from the heavy want you felt in your chest. 

“You ready for my knot, pretty Omega?” He growled, no longer speaking to you softly. There was no gentleness left within him. 

He shoved you back across the dais, climbing up onto it with you, breaking every protocol by doing so, but knowing there wasn’t a single other Alpha in attendance who would do anything about it unless you asked them to. But, he trusted you, lifting himself above you, bringing his face to your face, kissing you and beginning to lick your scent gland, making you see stars. 

Would he really bite you right here in front of all these people while you were about to take his knot? It was beyond intimate. Not only was it private, but it was dangerous. It was when an Alpha was most vulnerable. The audacity of this man shook you to your core. 

“Bite me, Omega. Please take me. Claim me as yours, sweetheart. Show them that you are mine. My Omega.”

His voice was ragged and deep, a hoarse purr of commands, all of which you were happy to obey. You began to lick his neck, putting your mouth over his gland as you began to suck at the round swell of flesh. Then, just as you canted your hips, feeling his knot slip inside of you, shoving and burying itself within the tight sheath of your pussy, you used your muscles to yank him the rest of the way in, and you bit down on his neck, hard, your body seizing from a hard, ruthless orgasm. . 

You heard the crack of his gland, and you felt him sink his fangs into yours, the pain and the pleasure mixing within you like a drug, his cock firing rope after rope of searing hot come into your belly, flooding your womb with his spend. He pulled his mouth away and stared into your eyes. His pupils were blown wide, his face full of disbelief, 

“My love…”

You kissed him, taking his lip into yours, suckling on it, trying to guide him back down from his tantric high. He was struggling above you, stuck deep inside of you, unable to stop himself from dumping heavy loads of his come into your body, his cock pulsing and throbbing with each burst of his cream. 

He rested his head on your neck, returning his mouth to your gland, and every time he licked it, now, you felt your pussy twist around him, threatening to slam you with another orgasm. You licked him, too, hearing him cry out against your skin, feeling the mirror of your sensations, his heavy phallus jerking as you sucked on his broken gland. 

Finally, he was able to rock back and forth, letting his knot slip out of you before popping it back inside, fucking you with it just like he did with his cock. He twisted his hips forward, driving into you with all of his strength, and then he would pull himself back out, the swell of his knot increasing with each thrust until, on the last thrust, he was finally trapped, unable to remove himself from your core. 

Now, though, it was your turn. You began to use your muscles to push and pull him from the inside, fucking him like a sleeve of smooth, soaked warmth, jerking his shaft up and down with your insides.

“Oh, fuck…” He whispered, not expecting your skills to be so advanced, but you had trained hard for this moment. You weren’t about to let it go to waste. 

You moved him inside of you, letting his knot take the brunt of your efforts, squeezing it like a fruit, making sure all of his juice melted into your skin. You made him come like this again, using the salve that your Watcher had given to you as an advantage, knowing that the heightened sensitivity you felt was now being passed on to him. He filled you up, his knot plugging your hole, preventing any of his seed from leaking out, and your tummy was swollen from his load, round and full for everyone to see. 

He sat up on his heels, looking down at you with his eyes full of adoration and wonder, watching your strong abdominals clench and twist as you used them to help you work inside of yourself, edging him over and over before pulling him down into the depths of another hard come with you. 

His hands went to the bulge of fluid in your belly, most of it flooding into your womb, unable to escape anywhere else. Your Alpha caressed your skin, marveling at the fullness. Then, he looked down at your stretched hole, playing with your clitorus that had been forced out from under its hood due to the sheer size of his knot, all of your skin bowing around it and pulled tight. 

Your Alpha forced you to come like this, milking him hard, trying not to make a sound but giving away your mind-bending pleasure with shaking, whimpering breaths. 

“That’s a good Omega. So full of my come.”

You smiled up at him, enjoying the full feeling of his come inside of you. But, you were losing your strength, and he could feel it. Alpha Price leaned over you again, grinding himself down into you and helping you reach one last orgasm, pulling himself along with you, squirting the last of his spend into your pussy. Then, he carefully twisted his cock out of you, watching the gush of his come coat the marble platform, dripping out of you and down the sides of the dais. 

You were so empty and weak, but you were being lifted, cradled in his arms, and the whole arena burst into revelrous applause. The feast had begun, but not for you. You would be in your Alpha’s tent, and there you would remain until he bred you, making sure that you were laden with his cub, sharing food and drink with him in bed while you were stuck on his knot, traditionally until sunset when you would be presented to the clans as the new Apex Omega, destined to rule beside him forever. 

“Are you done being quiet, my Omega?”

“Yes, Master,” you whispered, nestling into his broad chest. 

“Good,” he smiled, “I need to hear you scream for me.”

“And I need my Alpha to breed me. I need your knot again, Master. Don’t pull it out.”

“I’m at your command, my love,” he smiled, planting a kiss on your temple, smearing his own salve across your swollen flesh, working his cock until he was hard again. 

When you felt his knot for the second time, you knew you had made the right choice. Your people were safe, and so were you. You weren’t sure if it was the high of your claiming or the truth that you felt in your heart, but you were eager to be dripping with his come every night. Trapped underneath your Alpha was right where you belonged, knotted and full of his love. 

Seriously, send help. I was too ashamed to even reread it for typos. I'm so sorry.

[colonelarr0w]

singledad! nanami having the hots for yuji’s kindergarten teacher who has the tendency to overwork herself to the bone in the name of her precious students

he gets her to unwind with him 🫣 they fuck LMAOOOLLL

Sypnosis - Read above request.

Pairing - !SingleDad Nanami x !Kindergarten Teacher Reader

Warning(s) - None besides some foul language.

Word Count - 2.6k

A/N - Hi, yes, okay, I know the request had a smut element to it, but I took a fluffy route. If you want a part two that has that smut element or an alternate version that focuses on that smut element, please send me a request and I will get to it as quickly as I can! But I hope you enjoy reading this just as much as I enjoyed writing it!

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

ENCOUNTER 1 : 

“There! He’s over there!” Yuuji says happily, his grip over your hand tightening as he points to a blonde-haired man standing in the crowd of awaiting parents. You follow his gaze, smiling kindly as the man lifts his hand in a wave, grinning at both you and Yuuji.  

“Alright, off you go then,” you smile down at Yuuji, releasing his hand and watching as the six-year-old toddles over to his father, wrapping his arms around the taller man’s leg and smiling widely up at him. His father stands straight, waving once more to you before vanishing into the crowd. 

ENCOUNTER 2 : 

"Mr. Nanami, correct?" You cast a glance down at your clipboard before your gaze returns to the blonde male standing in front of you. He nods, smiling apologetically as Yuuji tugs once again on his arm, trying his hardest to get his father's attention. "You can both come inside." 

Nanami smiles again as he walks past you, taking a seat on the too-small chairs that you had set up in the center of the classroom. His knees curl up to his chest, but he says nothing as you sit in front of him, smiling first at Yuuji before your gaze shifts to settle on him.  

"Yuuji is an absolute pleasure to have in class. He's very helpful with others and myself, he focuses on each task he's given – he's a very gifted student," you explain, lifting up the pages on your clipboard and smiling as Yuuji's toothy grin widens, gleeful with the praise you were giving him.  

"Is that so? I'm very glad to hear that," Nanami nods, turning then to Yuuji and placing a palm over the top of his head. The six-year-old giggles, leaning into his father's touch with a closed-eye smile.  

You watch the interaction with a gentle smile of your own, fingers releasing their hold on the papers of your clipboard and listening as they quietly fall into place.  

ENCOUNTER 3 : 

"Papa, look! It's Miss (Y/N)," Yuuji bubbles happily, tugging on Nanami's pant leg and pointing in the direction that he had seen you. Curious, Nanami allows his gaze to follow Yuuji's finger – the scolding he wanted to give about pointing falling dead in his throat.  

You're preoccupied with whatever shopping list is curled between your fingers, lips pressed firmly together in thought as you struggle to decide which brand of potato chips to buy. Nanami can't help but silently admire you from his place farther down the same aisle. His lips tug upward in a soft smile – maybe one day he would have enough courage to stride up to you. 

ENCOUNTER 4 : 

"Oh, hello. Did Yuuji forget something at home?" you inquire curiously, raising an eyebrow as a very disheveled Nanami straightens himself out in front of you. His fingers fiddle with his tie, trying to make it look a touch more presentable – but to no avail.  

"I apologize for my appearance, this morning has been hectic. But yes, Yuuji accidentally left his lunchbox," Nanami answers, holding up the small metal lunchbox decorated with superhero stickers – some scratched and some brand new.  

You smile gently at him, reaching out to take the lunchbox from his fingers. "Don't worry, we all have those mornings," you say reassuringly, chuckling gently at Nanami. He returns your smile, cheeks warming at the lingering feeling that your fingers had left behind.  

ENCOUNTER 5 :  

"Hey, isn't that Yuuji's teacher?" Gojo asks, lifting his index finger to point across the bar. Nanami's eyes follow Gojo's finger – which then widen at the sight of you mingling with a few friends, nursing a fruity cocktail in your hand.  

Nanami hums in response, trying his hardest to return his attention to his drink, but your outfit is much too tight, pushing up exactly what needs to be pushed up and making your figure just that much more attractive. Behind his eyeglasses, his gaze roams up and down the dips and curves of your body, his lips quirking up in tune with his wandering eyes.  

"Yeah, it is," he mutters offhandedly, lifting his glass to his lips and resting it against the skin there. Gojo smirks, lowering his finger before standing from his place at the bar. Nanami's eyebrows pinch together in curiosity, watching the snowy-haired male swagger his way across the bar – not stopping until he reaches where you stand with your friends, then throwing a slender arm over your shoulders.  

The once loose grip Nanami had over his glass is replaced by a tight curl of his fingers, one that could surely shatter the glass should he apply the right amount of pressure. His eyes narrow in an almost predatory manner – watching as Gojo smiles at both you and the friends that had come along with you.  

You return his smile and laugh at the cheesy jokes that he throws your way, but Nanami can see the hint of discomfort that lies behind the curl of your lips. Oh, so that was Gojo's plan. 

Downing the rest of the whiskey in his glass, Nanami stands from his place at the bar, striding across the small space until he stands just a few inches away from you, your friends, and Gojo – the latter of whom is wearing that shit-eating grin he always wears when his plans work out just the way that he wanted them to.  

"Oh! Mr. Nanami! I didn't expect to see you out here," you say, turning quickly to glance at the blonde as he wanders into your line of vision. Your smile, once uncomfortable and forced, was now that same smile that you flashed at him when you noticed him at dismissal. "It's nice to see you." 

Nanami's cheeks heat, and he silently thanks the bar for being so dim, its lighting hiding the gentle pink hue that imbues over his face. "It's nice to see you as well Miss (Y/N)," Nanami nods at you, feeling himself smile as you shift an inch closer to him.  

"Oh, would you like to join me at the bar? Your friends can as well, if they'd like," Nanami offers, shooting Gojo a pointed glare. Gojo only smirks, shrugging his shoulders indifferently. That bastard. 

You glance to your friend, who nods encouragingly at you. You turn back to Nanami, smiling at his offer and reaching a hand out to squeeze his arm – your touch lights a small fire underneath his skin, one that he most certainly does not complain about.  

"We'd love to, thank you." 

ENCOUNTER 6 : 

"Where's your father Yuuji?" Your voice is a quiet mumble, your fingers still closed around Yuuji's as the both of your gazes sift through the crowd of awaiting parents – and yet Nanami is nowhere to be seen. The pink-haired boy sinks back onto his heels, a saddened look falling over his face as he leans into your side.  

"I don't know," he mumbles in response, his eyes already glossing over with tears. You soften, kneeling down to be at eye-level with the boy and smiling as reassuringly as you can at him. "Did he forget me?" 

You shake your head quickly, squeezing the tiny hand that still rests in yours. Yuuji sniffles, his cheeks puffing out in an adorable pout. "No! No honey, your father did not forget you. It could just be that work is keeping him a little later." 

Seemingly satisfied with your explanation, Yuuji nods, rubbing his free hand against his tear-filled eyes, sniffling. You smile again, squeezing his fingers before guiding him back to the entrance of your classroom.  

He follows, sitting down at his seat and taking the coloring sheets and colored pencils that you offer him, already scribbling away at the black-and-white monkey that laid in front of him. You take the seat at his left, feeling your heart warm as Yuuji tilts the sheet towards you – a silent invite for you to color with him.  

You take one of the colored pencils that he offers you, coloring in a small section of the page and occasionally looking up to your classroom door – where the hell was Nanami?  

"Wait here for a moment Yuuji, I'm going to call your father, okay?" You lift a hand to ruffle the boy's hair, smiling at him before silently moving towards the chorded phone tucked into the corner of your classroom, located just behind your desk.  

Just as you finish dialing in the now familiar number, the door to your classroom opens, revealing a disheveled Nanami. He leans quietly against the doorframe for a moment, catching his breath before Yuuji turns, smiling widely at the sight of his father.  

"Papa!" 

You turn from where you stand beside the phone, smiling in relief as you watch Yuuji bound up to Nanami, wrapping his little arms halfway around his father's legs.  

"There you are. I have to admit, I was getting a little worried about you," you admit with a smile, waving to Nanami as you walk closer to the pair, watching through softened eyes as Yuuji reaches for his completed coloring page, wanting to show his father.  

"I apologize for my lateness. I had not expected my office to keep me as late as they did," Nanami apologizes, bowing his head at you. You wave him off, then folding your fingers together in front of you.  

"It's not an issue at all. Though you did give Yuuji quite the scare," you admit, not failing to notice the way that Nanami's smile fades for a quick moment, but returns when Yuuji lifts his coloring page up to him.  

"Oh," he hums, turning to Yuuji and laying a palm against the youngster's head, lovingly ruffling his hair. "I apologize Yuuji, I didn’t mean to frighten you." 

"It's okay Papa! Miss (Y/N) and I colored together!" Yuuji bubbles, his eyes crinkling in a wide smile as his eyes momentarily flicker to you. "See? I made this one look like you." 

Nanami smiles fondly, then turning to you and once again mouthing his thanks. You merely wave him off, watching with a smile of your own as Yuuji continues to explain each little character that he had colored in.  

ENCOUNTER 7 : 

"Good morning Miss (Y/N)!" Yuuji exclaims happily, smiling brightly up at you as Nanami leads him forward, releasing the little boy's hand as he tugs his father towards you.  

Biting back the yawn that rises in your throat, you will yourself to smile back at your student, waving politely at him and watching through half-lidded eyes as he lets go of Nanami's hand. He opens his mouth to question you, but is immediately distracted by the call of one of his friends.  

"Good morning Miss (Y/L/N)," Nanami bows politely at you, one that you return clumsily. His eyebrows pinch together in a mixture of curiosity and concern – you weren't acting like your regular self. Your once bubbly attitude and bright greetings were replaced now by half-assed "good morning's" and small waves that carried none of your usual warmth.  

"Morning Mr. Nanami," you return, your smile wobbling as your eyes flicker to meet his own. It's then that he notices the exhaustion that weighs heavy on your eyelids, practically tugging them down to a point where you look as though you're about to fall asleep standing upright.  

"Are you feeling alright this morning?" 

"Oh yes, just tired is all," you wave off his concern, smiling once again at him before a comfortable yet uncomfortable silence falls over the both of you. "I'll be seeing you later?" 

"Yes, have a good day," Nanami smiles at you, his heart warming when you return it – though it doesn't quite reach your eyes that way that it would normally. You wave again at him as he walks off, then turning to your awaiting students and clapping your hands once together.  

ENCOUNTER 8 : 

"Oh! Miss (Y/N)! My papa wanted to talk to you after school today," Yuuji mentions to you, smiling as he glances up from the worksheet that he had been previously occupied with. Your eyebrows pinch together in intrigue, glancing down at the pink-haired boy and tilting your head at him.   

"Alright then, I'll be waiting for him," you reply with a kind smile, then continuing your routine check on the rest of your students, being sure that none of them were struggling with the work that you had handed out.  

< … > 

"Yuuji mentioned that you wanted to speak with me?"  

Nanami swallows the growing lump in his throat, suddenly feeling oddly choked up as you stand in front of him, lifting his hand to scratch at the back of his neck. His shirt feels tighter than before, the air surrounding him is suddenly hotter than it had been previously.  

"Yes – uhm – my apologies if I am taking up your time," Nanami begins, fiddling with his fingers and scratching at already existing hangnails, "but there is something that I wanted to ask of you." 

You smile kindly at him, a gentle laugh falling from your parted lips – a sound that Nanami wishes that he could commit to the very depths of his memory.  

"You're not wasting my time at all," you're quick to reassure him, your gaze momentarily flickering to Yuuji as he takes advantage of the empty classroom, organizing the books in your small-shelved library.  

Nanami inhales deeply, holding the breath in his chest and wondering if what he was about to ask would make you view him in a different light – though he sincerely hoped that you wouldn't.  

"I was wondering...and forgive me if this is too forward...if you would like to join me for coffee sometime this weekend?" His voice is dangerously quiet, a light shake to his voice as the fear of being rejected finally sinks into his bones – maybe he shouldn’t have said anything at all.  

Your laughter dies down, fading completely as you stare at Nanami – you certainly hadn't expected him to ask you that.  

Just as Nanami opens his mouth to apologize again, you cut him off.  

"I'd love to." 

With cheeks dusted pink and a smile that could only be compared to a lovesick fool, Nanami glances up at you, feeling his chest warm at the sight of your dimpled cheeks and crinkled eyes.  

< ... > 

"So that's how you and Papa fell in love?" Yuuji tilts his head curiously, biting back his yawn as he nestles further into his comforters. You smile gently at him, reaching a hand out to affectionately ruffle his hair, threading your fingers through his pink locks.  

"That's exactly how Papa and I fell in love. He took me for coffee that very weekend, and the rest is history," you recall with a lovesick smile plastered onto your face. Yuuji smiles sleepily, a sight that you mentally commit to memory.  

"I'm happy you and Papa met," Yuuji whispers adorably, yawning again before his heavy eyes finally flutter shut, exhaustion taking over him. You smile again, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss against his forehead before you stand from his bed. 

You turn your head, jumping at the sight of Nanami standing in the doorframe to Yuuji's bedroom, leaning against it with crossed arms and a gentle smile on his face. "How long were you there for?" Your voice is almost accusatory as you walk into your husband's arms, resting your own around his neck and tracing your fingernails along his nape.  

"Long enough to hear you retell that story for – what – the eighty-fifth time?" Nanami perks an eyebrow at you, leaning down to slot his lips against yours. You hum against his mouth, tugging him a bit closer and biting playfully at his bottom lip.  

He pulls away after a moment, the tip of his nose affectionately brushing against your own, his large hands squeezing playfully at your waist.  

"And every time I tell it, you hang off of my every word, don't you?"  

Nanami smiles, his lips ghosting over your own as he tugs you impossibly closer, your chest pressed flush against his own.  

"That I do." 

[i-cant-sing]

Okay but I need yall to help me figure out the character(s) for the following scenario:

Imagine a romantic yandere falling for reader, and ofc reader isn't in love with yandere for obvious reasons like red flags. Maybe they did try dating, Yandere is a charmer, comes from a rich family, he's smart and hardworking and oh so head over heels in love with you. He's always taking you out on best dates, HAS to get you the largest fucking bouquets (excellent taste in flowers) and buys you expensive but well thought out gifts.

But for whatever reason, things dont work out and you break things off hastily and most likely over the phone before leaving the country. And yandere just- breaksdown. I mean my man does not have a good mental health as is, but you leaving, actually leaving him just breaks him down and he has a full blown panic attack.

I'm talking about yandere falling to his knees, clutching his chest and gasping for air, tears streaming down his face as he screams your name like a mad man. His family, they love him, they adore their son/brother/grandchild sm, it pains them to see him in such a miserable state. Yandere man is so delirious that he has to be sedated, tranquillised by medical professionals because he's just losing his fucking mind, babbling your name over and over again like a mad man. His condition only worsens as time passes, and so his family decides to take drastic measures because they can't see their beloved son/brother/grandkid so fucking dead and depressed and a shell of a once bright man. They love him so much, they only want ti see him happy, so they use their money and influence to track you down and try to convince you to return and take yandere back. When you refuse, they take the high way and force you to come with them, dragging you kicking and screaming to their private jet and fly all the way home, where yandere is.

You're in a dishevelled state, tears running down your cheeks as you struggle to free yourself from their grasps as they take you to yandere. And when yandere sees you... for the first time in months, his family sees the light return in his eyes as the yandere reaches out for you, scared that you're just his mind playing tricks. When he finally touches you, he is immeadiately pulling you into a hug, arms tightening around your body like a gilded cage as he cries into your shoulder and thanks his family for bringing you back. His family only smiles with tears in their eyes as they lock the door behind them when they leave, so that you don't go running away. Meanwhile, yandere has pulled you into his lap and he's looking at you with such sad eyes, staring at each feature of yours over and over again as if to memorise it all again. He can't help the tears that continue to slip out of his eyes, maybe he's crying that you're finally here, or maybe he's crying for all the time that's been lost when you weren't here. You fall asleep soon due to exhaustion, but yandere doesn't sleep a wink that night because he continues to stare at you and play with your hair very gently, finally closing his eyes when morning comes and he wraps his arms around you and traps your legs with his.

By now, you guys realise that the yandere's family is not only yandere for their son/brother/grandson but also for you. They are yandede for you too, but they're not allowing you to leave them or their son or even make him unhappy ever again. Some members are willing to let all you "tantrums" slide, while others are not so kind. BUT one thing is for sure, you're ALWAYS safe with yandere s/o, no matter what.

Now, for the characters I've had in kind for this scenario are:

Halim Mehmet Shah and the Shah Family (my ocs)

Dabi/Shotou and Todoroki clan (I am the OG creator of Yandere Todoroki Clan)

I wanna say Naoya or Toji but the Zenin clan hates them both....

Dick Grayson/Jason Todd and Batfam

What do you guys think?

Mood board for this scenario^^^(I love Pinterest)