#a sweet distraction to throw off the scent

[dirtytransmasc]

Eywa's fleecy little lamb — the blood sacrifice of Her chosen one

[paxtito]

and they were roommates

pairings: tara x reader (g!p)

word count: 2717

warnings: smut 18+, masturbating, oral (r receiving), p in v, swearing

summary: tara is out running errands, she’d be gone for hours- or so you thought

a/n: i’m working on multiple request atm— wenclair x reader one and the radiohead song (i’m just listening and reading the song to get an idea atm) also thank you to the anon for requesting this and their kind words!

The dorm is quiet, unusually so, and it’s kind of nice. Tara had mentioned heading out for the day—something about running errands and meeting up with Sam—and while you’re used to the hum of her presence, the silence isn’t unwelcome.

You glance around the shared space. It’s small but cozy, a mix of her personality and yours crammed into every corner. Her side of the room is meticulously organized—her books stacked neatly, her bed made with precision. In contrast, your side looks… well, lived-in. A pile of clothes rests precariously on your desk chair, and your bed is a haphazard mess of blankets and pillows.

You plop onto your bed, phone in hand, scrolling mindlessly through social media. Without Tara around, you’re left to your own devices—literally. You snort at a meme, sending it to her out of habit.

“That’s stupid,” she’d probably reply, but there’d be a hint of fondness in it.

After a while, you glance at the clock. Noon. The day stretches ahead, and you find yourself feeling restless. You could clean up your side of the room, but… nah. Instead, you wander over to Tara’s desk.

Her books catch your eye first—old classics mixed with crime thrillers and a few surprisingly heartfelt poetry collections. You pick one up, flipping through the pages idly. A note scribbled in the margin catches your attention, her handwriting sharp and deliberate: “This makes no sense. Why didn’t he just leave?”

You chuckle softly. Even in her annotations, Tara’s blunt honesty shines through.

Your gaze drifts to her bulletin board. It’s a mix of pinned photos, ticket stubs, and little reminders. One of the pictures is of the two of you, taken on move-in day. You’re grinning like an idiot, throwing up a peace sign, while she’s glaring at the camera, her arms crossed—but there’s a subtle upturn to her lips that gives her away.

You flop onto your bed, the old springs creaking under your weight. The small TV in the corner flickers to life as you jab at the remote, the sound of canned laughter filling the room. It's some trashy reality show, but it's mindless and distracting—just what you need right now.

As you settle in, your gaze drifts around the room. Tara's side is always so pristine, everything in its place. It's annoying how tidy she is. You, on the other hand... well, your side looks like a bomb went off in a thrift store.

You reach for the bag of chips on your nightstand, tearing it open with a loud rip. The salty scent mingles with the faint smell of Tara's lavender body spray, creating a strange but not unpleasant odor.

You munch away, eyes glued to the screen, as snippets of conversation from the show drift through your thoughts.

"I think I'm going to kill her," one of the contestants is saying, her voice dripping with fake sweetness.

You snort. Yeah, right. They're all too busy primping and preening to actually do anything. Unlike the Ghostface killers, they've got no balls.

You check the time again, just to be sure. Tara won't be back for at least a couple of hours. With the coast clear, a mischievous grin spreads across your face. Time to take advantage of the privacy.

You reach over to your bedside table, fishing around in the drawer until your fingers close around the cool, smooth bottle of lotion. You pop the cap open with practiced ease, squirting a generous amount into your palm. The slick, slightly cold sensation sends a shiver down your spine as you rub your hands together, warming the lotion.

With your other hand, you unlock your phone and pull up your favorite porn site. Your fingers fly over the screen as you type in your search, already feeling the familiar stirrings of arousal. A few taps later, and a video starts playing, the sounds of moaning and grunting filling the now-silent room.

You settle back against your pillow, one hand already slipping beneath the waistband of your sweatpants. Your cock is already half-hard, twitching in anticipation. You wrap your fingers around it, giving it a slow stroke as you watch the scene unfold on your screen.

You stroke your cock slowly, teasingly, savoring the building pleasure. Your other hand roams over your chest, pinching and tweaking a nipple through the thin fabric of your shirt. The dual sensations send sparks of electricity shooting through your body, making your hips buck up into your touch.

On screen, the actress lets out a particularly loud moan, and you match it with a groan of your own. Fuck, that's hot.

Just as you're getting into a rhythm, the door to your dorm swings open without warning. You freeze, your hand still wrapped around your throbbing cock, as Tara steps inside.

"Shit!" she exclaims, her eyes widening as she takes in the scene before her. You're sprawled on your bed, pants pulled down, phone in hand, and a sticky puddle of lube on your stomach.

Mortification floods through you, and you frantically try to cover yourself, grabbing a pillow and pressing it over your lap. Your face burns with embarrassment, and you can't meet Tara's gaze.

"I-I thought you said you'd be gone for hours!" you stammer, trying to come up with some excuse. But there's no hiding what you were doing.

Tara stands in the doorway, frozen in shock. Her eyes dart between your flushed face and the pillow. After a moment, she seems to shake herself out of her stupor.

Tara's eyes flick down to the pillow, then back up to your face. Her expression is unreadable, but there's a glint in her eye that makes your stomach flutter with nerves and excitement.

She steps further into the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click. The sound seems to echo in the tense silence.

"I didn't mean to interrupt," she says, her voice low and teasing. She saunters over to your bed, the mattress dipping under her weight as she sits on the edge.

Your breath hitches as she reaches out, her fingers brushing against the pillow in your lap. Slowly, she pulls it away, revealing your straining erection. You whimper at the sudden exposure, the cool air hitting your overheated skin.

Tara's gaze rakes over your cock, and you feel yourself grow even harder under her scrutiny. Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips, and your hips twitch involuntarily.

"Looks like you were in the middle of something," she purrs, her hand resting lightly on your thigh. Her touch is electric, sending shivers racing up your spine.

You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd be back so soon," you manage to say, your voice coming out breathier than you intended.

Tara leans in closer, her breath ghosting over your ear. "Don't apologize," she whispers, her lips brushing against your skin. "I think I can help with that."

And then, before you can process what's happening, she's sliding down your body, her hands pushing your legs apart. You gasp as her mouth hovers over your cock, her hot breath fanning over the sensitive skin.

"Fuck, Tara," you groan, your fingers tangling in her hair as she takes you into her mouth. The wet heat of her tongue is almost too much to bear, and you buck your hips, desperate for more.

Tara hums around you, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure through your body. She bobs her head, taking you deeper each time, her hand wrapping around the base of your cock.

Your head falls back against the pillows as Tara works her magic. Her mouth is a wonder, hot and wet and so damn perfect. You can feel every ridge and valley of her tongue as it glides along your shaft, tracing the veins and swirling around the head.

"Fuck, your mouth feels so good," you groan, your hips rocking up to meet her movements. Your fingers tighten in her hair, gently guiding her pace.

Tara hums in response, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. She takes you deeper, her nose brushing against your pubic bone as she swallows around you.

The sight of her, head bobbing in your lap, lips stretched obscenely around your cock, is almost too much to handle. You feel yourself getting close, your balls tightening and your stomach muscles clenching.

"Tara, I'm gonna..." you warn, your voice strained and breathless.

But she doesn't pull away. Instead, she doubles down, her head moving faster, her hand pumping in tandem. She looks up at you through her lashes, her eyes dark with lust and something else, something intense and hungry.

It's too much. With a guttural groan, you explode in her mouth, your cock pulsing as you spill your seed down her throat. She swallows it all, not spilling a single drop, and continues to suck and lick until you're spent.

Finally, she releases you with a lewd pop, sitting back on her heels and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She looks immensely pleased with herself, a satisfied smirk on her kiss-swollen lips.

You collapse back onto the bed, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Your whole body feels like jelly, boneless and sated.

"Holy shit," you breathe, running a hand through your sweat-dampened hair. "That was... wow."

Tara giggles, the sound low and sultry. She crawls up your body, straddling your hips and leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

You roll over, pinning Tara beneath you on the bed. She looks up at you, her eyes dark and hooded with desire. You capture her lips in another heated kiss, your tongue delving into her mouth to taste yourself on her tongue.

Your hands roam her body, slipping beneath the hem of her shirt to caress the smooth skin of her stomach. She arches into your touch, a soft moan escaping her lips.

Breaking the kiss, you sit up and pull her shirt over her head, tossing it carelessly aside. Your eyes drink in the sight of her, clad only in a lacy bra. You lean down, trailing open-mouthed kisses along the swell of her cleavage.

Tara's fingers thread through your hair, tugging gently as she holds you to her. "More," she breathes, her voice husky with need.

You oblige, reaching behind her to unclasp her bra. It falls away, freeing her breasts to your hungry gaze. You take a moment to admire them, full and perfect, before lowering your head to take one pebbled nipple into your mouth.

Tara gasps, her back arching off the bed. You lavish attention on her breast, sucking and nibbling until she's writhing beneath you. Your hand slides down her stomach, slipping beneath the waistband of her jeans.

"These need to go," you murmur against her skin, hooking your fingers in the denim and pulling it down her legs. She lifts her hips to help, kicking the jeans off and leaving her in just a pair of matching lace panties.

You sit back on your heels, taking in the sight of her laid out before you, flushed and wanting. Your cock twitches, already hardening again. You reach down to push your own pants fully off, kicking them away.

Tara's eyes widen as she takes in your naked form, her gaze zeroing in on your erection. "Fuck, you're so hot," she breathes, her hand reaching out to wrap around you.

You grind your cock against her, feeling the heat of her through the thin lace. Tara gasps, her hips lifting to meet yours, seeking more friction. The rough drag of your hard length against her clothed clit sends sparks of pleasure shooting through you both.

"Please," she whimpers, her fingers digging into your shoulders. "I need you inside me."

You don't make her wait any longer. Hooking your fingers in her panties, you yank them down her legs, tossing them aside carelessly. Tara spreads her legs wider, inviting you in.

You position yourself at her entrance, the head of your cock nudging against her slick folds. Tara's breath hitches, her eyes fluttering closed as you press forward.

You sink into her inch by delicious inch, groaning at the tight, wet heat enveloping you. Tara is so fucking perfect, her walls gripping you like a vice. You bottom out, your hips flush against hers, buried to the hilt inside her.

"Fuck, you feel so good," you pant, fighting the urge to just start pounding into her. Instead, you hold still, letting her adjust to the stretch.

Tara rolls her hips, urging you on. "Move," she demands, her nails raking down your back.

You don't need to be told twice. You start to thrust, setting a steady rhythm that has you both gasping and moaning. The room fills with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin and the creaking of the bed.

Tara wraps her legs around your waist, using the leverage to meet your thrusts. Her tits bounce with every snap of your hips, and you lean down to capture a nipple in your mouth, sucking hard.

"Yes, just like that," Tara hisses, her head thrashing on the pillow. "Don't stop."

You have no intention of stopping. You fuck her hard and fast, chasing your pleasure and hers. The coil of heat in your belly winds tighter and tighter, signaling your impending release.

You can feel your orgasm building, your balls tightening and your thrusts becoming erratic. But you force yourself to slow down, to focus on Tara's pleasure instead of your own.

Tara's nails dig into your shoulders, her teeth sinking into your neck as she holds on for dear life. Her walls flutter around you, tightening and releasing in a rhythm that tells you she's close.

You redouble your efforts, angling your hips to hit that spot inside her that makes her see stars. Tara keens, her body tensing beneath you.

You reach between your bodies, finding her clit with your fingers. Tara bucks against your hand, her hips moving in frantic circles as you rub tight circles over the sensitive nub. You can feel her getting closer, her inner walls starting to flutter around your cock.

"Come on, baby," you urge, your voice low and rough. "Come for me."

Tara's body goes rigid, her back arching off the bed as her orgasm crashes over her. She cries out, her pussy clamping down on you like a vice as she comes undone.

The feeling of her coming around your cock is too much. With a guttural groan, you pull out, your hand flying over your shaft as you stroke yourself to completion. Your cum spurts out, painting Tara's stomach in thick, white ropes.

You collapse beside her, both of you panting and sweaty. Tara turns her head to look at you, a lazy, satisfied smile on her face.

"That was intense," she murmurs, reaching out to brush a sweat-dampened lock of hair from your forehead.

You grab some tissues from the box on your nightstand, quickly wiping the cum from Tara's stomach. She sighs contentedly as you clean her, her body still tingling from the aftershocks of her orgasm.

As you toss the used tissues aside, you can't help but let your gaze wander over her naked form. Tara is a vision, her skin flushed and glowing, her hair splayed out on the pillow like a halo. She looks thoroughly debauched, and the sight sends a fresh wave of desire coursing through you.

But then reality starts to set in. You just had sex with your roommate. Your best friend. What does this mean for your relationship? Will things be awkward now?

Tara seems to sense your thoughts. She sits up, pulling the sheet around her naked body. "Hey," she says softly, reaching out to cup your cheek. "We okay?"

You nod, not quite trusting yourself to speak. Tara smiles, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

"Good," she murmurs against your mouth. "Because I want to do that again. Soon."

With that, she hops off the bed, completely unselfconscious in her nudity. She pads over to her closet, rummaging around for something to wear.

You watch her, your mind still reeling. What have you gotten yourself into?

—

request: where reader and Tara are roommates and reader thinks Tara is out so reader starts to masturbate but Tara comes home early and walks in on reader so she gives a helping hand (a blow job) then they do it yk?

[occamstfs]

Keep On Trucking

Jonah thought he'd hate the rental truck he got when he flew back home. But after throwing on a hat he found in the cabin it seems like he's liking the thing more with every passing mile.

Thought we could do with some more sentimental southerner TFs so here we are ! Happy surprise that it coincides with a certain Texan AOTY ;) Sweaty, strong, and sweet, hope you enjoy Jonah's journey to a new home in the country! -Occam

It must be some form of cosmic comedy that Jonah’s only rental option was this wretched gas-guzzling juggernaut. Sitting a good fair few feet above every other car on the road, the truck that’s been foisted onto him simply demands attention. There’s a tight-lipped grimace on his face as the laundry list of insults he’s hurled at people who drive these fragile masculinity-mobiles over the years rush through his mind.

He’d never say them to a driver of course, both from a general fear of confrontation and a healthy fear of large loud men. His insults thrown never escape the glass panes of his Elantra. Nothing more than playful jibes to help work through the fear of sharing the road with drivers who could literally roll over him, and oft seem to want to. Just barking self-soothingly, like a chihuahua at a caged great dane.

His self-consciousness at plowing down the highway is interrupted however as a small car quite similar to the one he drives back at home veers towards him. Thankfully the road is not too crowded as he swerves to avoid the red speed-demon who flips him off before shooting ahead, surging into the distance to escape the sound of Jonah’s horn blaring. 

The nervous young man clutches at his shirt as he feels his pulse in his head. Eventually he sees the red pinpricks of brake lights disappear and his hands stop shaking from the near-collision. Sighing, he tries to steady his breathing and hopes the rest of his nerves will follow suit. Only then does the strangest thought occur to him ‘Thank god I was driving a truck.’

Jonah rubs his smooth jaw and grumbles to himself, “I guess there are some upsides to driving a freakin’ tank, ugh.” As he puts it to words he can’t help but continue thinking on the matter, besides maniacs like that little punk, people are probably way more likely to respect me on the road driving this thing. He wistfully stares at the road ahead lost in thought, though before taking the leap further to the lofty thoughts that people are more likely to respect his masculinity and authority in this beast, he shakes it off and clears his throat.

“Ugh I need a coffee or something.” Squirming in the seat slightly, only then does he notice the continued discomfort from his brush with danger; He’s sweating up a storm. Cranking up the AC as high as it goes he wipes his brow and tries to push sweaty hair out from his face. When a heavy drop falls into his eyes causing him to shout a hearty “fuck!” He pulls over to the side of the road and searches for a headband or something to solve this issue, “God why’s it so hot in here!”

Looking down at his now clearly sweat-stained shirt he groans, no way is he going to show up to his hometown friend’s party looking like such a slob. He briefly considers using the sweaty top to hold back his hair but thinks better of it, giving it a sniff he finds his deodorant has not been nearly as effective as it usually is. Frowning and going straight to the source he smells his pit and immediately cringes away, “Man what is up with me today? It’s like I forgot to put it on.”

Distracted by his strange overheating, the still-present need for a headband, and now wondering what on Earth he’s going to wear to his friend’s, Jonah doesn’t notice how, beyond the bizarrely more powerful scent, he has begun to change. The few thin curls in his armpit have multiplied without his notice, stretching longer and spreading beyond their usually trimmed patch. Each new strand drips with sweat, permeating his new musk as he scrambles about the cabin looking for some bandana or hat.

“Duuuuub-” Jonah’s hand bumps into the brim of a hat which he quickly yanks out from the dark recesses of the rental truck only to tilt his head as finding a tacky camo baseball cap, “eugh-” After rubbing his hand through his sweaty hair once more, he grimaces and throws it on anyway, “sorry to whoever's hat this is-” It’s not like he’s going to be seen in the kitschy backwater cosplay, he just needs to make it to a store or somewhere where he can buy a shirt and hair tie, then he’ll be scot-free.

Checking the time with a gasp he returns to the open road without much thought at all, leaving him totally unaware as his hair begins to creep into the cap. Long dirty blonde curls shorn to almost nothing, shortening into some short masc choppy look that doesn’t even have a name. Far from his mind’s eye the idea of going to a barber for years buries itself and begins spreading tendrils towards other inactive memories, “Been a few weeks Rob- Just give me the usual.” Were he to picture the memory he would surely see a man who is not himself in the mirror.

The mirror? His eyes glance to his rearview and he gasps as he sees it’s suddenly angled way off. His usual anxiety quickly makes itself known in his sweaty chest. Eyes wide and on the road he doesn’t look down to catch as each quivering heartbeat leaves his chest wider, sticking out further as disparate strands of muscle begin to bulge. In the few half-seconds of him checking his other mirrors Jonah’s chest begins packing on quite the impressive pecs. “Musta- er Must’ve bumped it or, something?”

Going to adjust the mirror his usually careful hand forcefully bumps into it, grunting he wonders how. He didn’t even lean forward, which he knows he had to do when he first got in the truck. His arm would have to be almost half a foot longer. Throwing his hazards on he quickly pulls over once more, again neglecting to notice his changed hair in the mirror as he instead gasps in shock as he sees the arm of a behemoth dangling from his shoulder. 

In the minute since throwing on the ratty ball cap his arms have begun to grow. Every twitching movement on the wheel, every extension, even the slightest adjustment of his now less-than delicate fingers has been sending waves of change across forearms to which the idea of muscle definition is anathema. His mouth falls open as he takes notice of biceps that would have easily erupted from the sweat-stained shirt he had on, or rather, any shirt he owns. 

Jonah tries to process the meaty hands at the end of meatier arms, staring at the movement of individual muscle fibers under tight, suddenly tanned skin. He gulps as he sees them twitch with every accidental movement, power he can hardly understand coursing through them. His lip quivers into a grin as the idea occurs to flex them and he raises his arm to do so, exposing his tangle of pit hair and allowing sweat to drip down his chest.

Though just before getting the chance to truly indulge and delight, feeling the cold rivulet racing down his side he looks down to discover the new weight hanging on his chest. His eyes shimmer with wonder as he stares at pecs as sculpted as Michelangelo’s David now bulge from under his neck as it too thickens with another harsh swallow. His voice drops while his rougher hands go to cup his pecs, rubbing the few apparently shaved hairs as they begin their regrowth.

Despite his usual lucidity and rationality, something about seeing the rugged arms and chest of a man twice his size, something about feeling the strain of new biceps moving or seeing his handful of almost invisible chest hairs darkening alongside a congregation of new curls, his mind is awash with instincts that don’t seem his own. He smirks as he looks at his reflection in the now-adjusted mirror, higher in the seat both from his body lengthening as well as from sitting straighter with pride, he scratches at the stubble appearing on his chin and turns back to the road thicker brows furrowed into a cocky sneer, “They’re gonna be all fuckin’ over me at this party.”

Dragging his attention from his bulking body back to the road, Jonah can’t help but continue thinking about what a stud he’s becoming, what a stud he is. So focused on the strength ambient within him, delighting on the sensations coursing through him as he playfully flexes his arms and chest, that he hasn’t chance to notice his thoughts truly changing alongside his form. Suddenly a Texas-shaped bottle opener dangles from the set of keys that look far too beat up for a rental company to hand out. Obviously of course, why would a rental company have his truck?

One hand on the steering wheel, Jonah can no longer resist groping at the growing bulge that strains his pants. While it’s been certainly hard since the first glimpse of his bulging bicep, as his pride grows so does what may as well be the source of his masculinity. With each clumsy rub and grasp of his package as it threatens to break free from his pants, he continues to become the man to match his apparent wheels.

So too does his truck slightly shift to perfectly display the man that now identifies as its owner. The floorboard where a ball cap was hidden is littered with detritus from living in the country. Dirt paints the once spotless chassis of the vehicle and at the same time, hair thickens on his form as pubes inch above their brief containment, connecting with a treasure trail that begs to expand.

His balls throb as his once imperceptible treasure trail indeed races to cover the whole of his stomach before racing up to a chest that yields to its own mouth-watering pattern of fur. Pits still dripping with sweat lengthen and spread tantalizingly close to meeting with his garden of chest hair.

Jonah grunts as his new bulge grows large enough that the constriction is outright painful. Freeing his impressive rod it becomes clear that his accusations of redneck truckers compensating could not be further from the truth, in his case that is. His seat creaks under his weight as he squirms to pull his pants down to his knees, freeing bulkier thighs and a perfect bubble butt as both are similarly painted with haphazard brushes of hair. Inner thighs coated with curls add to the rugged forest around his pre-dripping package while new curls on his ass tickle against his warm, sweat-covered seat.

Halfway to masturbating he bites his lip as he tries to restrain his desires and continue driving, though the pushing down of his rigid rod so easily shifts to tugs and thrusts. His sticky, wanting breaths fertilize the growth of stubble on his face that will never vacate and a mustache sticking to his upper lip that will always be just a tad thicker. Meanwhile his calloused hands continue to tantalize a cock  edging closer to a release that he will not let yet arrive. Moaning from the intense need of his loins he grits his teeth and powers down the road voice deep and clearly accented as he whispers to himself, “Gotta save mah spunk for the party…”

Still with each slow grasp and pull towards release, his form continues to pack on weight and slick with denser forests of hair. So too does his outfit change to match his new life, with each half-thrust into his hand the brim on his hat widens, its cheap camo-green fading as it becomes a Stetson that any man of his stature demands. Slightly dressy pants stain blue and roughen into jeans while his shirt disappears entirely.

Finally, shoes that have given up the ghost long ago to feet that would cause anyone’s eyes to widen begin staining brown and reforming. Long, hairy toes that stick out from the once tennis shoes are corralled into the dark, expensive leather of genuine cowboy boots. The new soles click against the pedals of his truck and his thicker brows continue to furrow as he struggles not to cum at the sound of his beast rumbling down the road.

At long last Jonah comes up on the turn to his friend’s little shindig and he sighs in relief at making it before he spills a load on himself. Turning down a long dirt driveway he narrows his eyes as he feels something amiss, would’ve sworn his friend lived in a suburb or somethin’. But then he blinks and remembers obviously not. His boys’d never wanna share their streets with self-important, pretentious pricks. 

Parking in the grass alongside a handful of other trucks, Jonah grunts as he forces his cock down his jeans, its outline quite the clarion call down his pant leg. Buttoning up and cinching a gaudy belt-buckle, Jonah steps out into the party, grabbing a couple of six packs of Lone Star and waddles over to the gathered crew. Taking a deep breath of the cold dusk air as the sun begins to sink past the horizon, though beneath the smell of the woods there is a clear undercurrent of sweaty bodies and something richer, saliter.

Depositing beers that were once a host’s gift and some seltzers, Jonah turns to be greeted by cheers of burly men that seem to have already paired off. Scratching his stubble as he looks for his own quarry his eyes alight onto one shy looking twink standing to the side. Seems he didn’t get the memo that this isn’t some post-ironic gathering, not even wearing a cowboy hat. 

More than ready for some fun, Jonah grabs a discarded hat on the table and wanders over to the lone man. The twink eyes him with a wry smile as he can’t miss the obviously altered gait, they then widen when he recognizes the man as Jonah, “J- Jonah!?” his mouth drops open and his eyes glaze over as something readjusts, “You’ve really, uhm- filled out?” Though even as he says it the idea of the late-comer looking any different than this seems incorrect. 

Jonah ignores the man, Anton, and deposits the hat on his head, leaning down he whispers in his ear, “Evenin’ Ant. You wanna go have some fun?” Anton’s mouth waters as the larger man stands close enough to wash him in musk before deliberately jabbing him with his thick bulge. He babbles something as the new hat blurs his thoughts a tad though it’s more than clear that the thin man, bored out of his mind, has been looking for excitement that only Jonah could bring all night.

Arm around Anton’s shoulder, Jonah escorts him to the back of the nearby barn, already littered with cans and clearly stained by haphazard bodily fluids. Neither man cares as they begin to use the wall just as seemingly every party-goer before them has. Jonah pushes him against the wall and the pair indulge in each other as if there were nothing else in the world. The hat falls from Ant’s head as he begins to change with or without it. His trimmed pubes rapidly stretch above his hairless waistline, racing to connect with chest hair that isn’t even there yet.

His waxed face scratches against Jonah’s itchy jaw and his mouth waters with hunger and jealousy. Before he can even consciously wish for something similar, his own face is overcome with the burning sensation of pores expanding into stubble that has never been given the chance to seed bursting forth. Soon enough his entire face is overtaken by thick lancing curls of a beard. After not much time at all the pair are worked up enough that making out is not nearly enough.

Even as his suitor puts on weight and muscle mass, Jonah easily hoists him up and finally makes use of his new heavy cock. It’s not clear how long the pair exercise their new forms behind the barn. Ant’s rushed initiation into the world of assless chaps and hairy backs and Jonah’s final steps into the hard-working world of farm living last forever and no time at all. Though by the end both men are thoroughly consumed by their new hairy, muscled selves. 

Their hairy bodies rub against each other as new lives together bloom in their minds. Maintaining a small homestead in the town they grew up in, often traveling into the nearby city to show city-folk that country boys ain’t all bad and making it clear to any small minded townies that they better treat their fellow man with respect or get what’s coming to them.

As they reach what must be the apotheosis of their new forms both men lose control at the same time. Awash in the heightened sensation of their new powerful selves and lost in love for each other stronger than they ever thought they’d achieve, Ant and Jonah stumble out from behind the barn.

Ant walking with a gait that can only mean one thing since they certainly weren’t horseback riding. The pair are jeered at by their fellow country queers and finally enjoy the party. It’s a joyous celebration of the first day of the rest of their lives surrounded by their fellow odd folk. When Jonah’s eyes fall back upon the truck he’s been driving for bout a decade now he can’t help but smile in contentment. She ain’t the prettiest wagon in the west, but she got him here. Surrounded by butches and bears alike Wade sits on a bench and pulls his man onto his lap, “Gonna be a good night Ant.” The pair crack open beers and drink in the new world around them, eager to see what their lives together have in store.

[baka-bakeneko]

Bed Dreams - Logan Howlett

DP3! Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

summary: you've been thinking of Logan, awake and asleep. Logan notices when you take a nap together.

tags: NSFW, MDNI, consensual napping, nocturnal orgasm, quickie, cowgirl, wrap it before you tap it psa

a/n: Wade, my other love, you have reminded me of my first love.

It was very rare, as roommates, that you and Logan were home alone. Al barely left the house and, as Logan's new best bub, Wade was clamped to his side every waking, and some unwoken, moments.

So for Logan to open the front door just as you relaxed into the daybed to nap was new to you.

"Hey," you said, smiling as you lounged on the couch pillow and turning your head to the television.

"Hey," he repeated, his voice nothing short of honey whiskey. "You settling in for a nap?"

You nodded, shifting a bit towards the wall to offer him space to join you. "Just a few minutes, wanna relax?"

Another rare occurrence between you two, sharing any kind of space intimately as friends. Wade usually liked to cuddle on the couch, throwing his legs over your lap while Logan tended to grimace from his recliner.

Let it be him, the old man, to love his singular brown recliner. His eyes never let off of you two, though.

It was judgemental, his glare at the two of you before peeling his eyes away in a short huff.

Logan stepped towards you, cocking his jaw at you stretched out on the daybed; you had one of Al's frilly tapestry blankets draped over your legs with your arm tucked under your head.

"Why the hell not?" He shrugged, kicking his boots off and sitting down on the edge. "No funny business, missy."

You grinned, shifting further away from Logan to accommodate his frame. He lay down with a tired exhale, his back cradled by the flimsy springs of the daybed.

Logan draped his arm out around you, allowing you to rest your head on his bicep. There was a friendly distance between you, a hands-length of breath between you as Logan stared at the ceiling and relaxed.

You curled further into yourself, slipping quickly into a nap. Logan inhaled deeply, just letting the day take a pause. His back had been hurting lately from tossing and turning overnight.

Logan tenderly tilted his head over to you, inhaling the scent from the top of your head. He sighed, blinkling slowly before finally drifting off.

He woke up moments later, it seemed, to you stirring next to him. Squinting down at you, he found you in a completely different position than before.

You were on your stomach, your arm draped over Logan's chest though your head left Logan's arm empty. He clenched his hand into a fist, distracting himself for a moment before you moved again.

It was subtle, your legs stretching out before raising a leg against Logan's. He watched you twitch, your breath escaping in sharp huffs. Raising a brow, Logan carefully reached for you, ready to wake you.

A dewy sweat beaded over your forehead, your mouth falling open with soft pitches. Logan stared, sickly intrigued while still hazy in sleep.

Then it was sudden. You moaned. Not only that, but you moaned Logan's name.

He froze, his heart skipping at the thought of you dreaming about him. Or whatever it was you were doing, which he was still concerned about.

You continued, panting in your sleep, gripping at your shirt before letting out a final moan. Logan leaned in to smell you again, not making it to your head to smell a sweet scent emanating from you.

He raised his brows, sniffing a bit harder at the scent to find where it'd come from. His query didn't go far as you shifted your leg further up his.

Oh.

So you were...in your sleep...to Logan.

Oh.

He couldn't help but laugh lowly, dropping his head back down to stare at the ceiling again. Logan gulped as he tried to will himself back to sleep.

But that was easier said than done. With his free hand, he adjusted his jeans, giving him a bit more breathing room though he was losing it. You orgasmed, in your sleep, to him.

Logan felt his heart trip again, rushing with adrenaline at the thought of how often you did it. And you lay next to him, knowing that it could happen.

He released a shuddering breath, shutting his eyes to take his mind off of it for however long it'd take for you to wake up.

It wasn't long after that you both were woken up by an audience. Blind Al, accompanied by Wade standing close behind her.

"Now I don't have a problem with y'all napping in here," Al began, with Wade accentuating with a few 'mhmm's and head bobbing. "But fuck in your own room, please."

"And how dare you not invite me to the cuddle sesh?" Wade said, partially offended as he poked Logan in the chest.

You stared up at the two of them, tucked on Logan's arm, not understanding what they meant. As you sat up, Logan's hand slipped off of your leg draped up to his waist.

You recoiled, embarrassed, and produced the same friendly sliver between you and Logan. Logan grimaced, at both your leaving and the cockblock duo.

"Fuck off," he offered to Wade, swatting his hand away before sitting up.

He looked back at you, a new glow about you from napping...among other things. Your hair was slightly mussed, the sleeve of your shirt slipped askew to your shoulder.

Logan tensed his jaw at the same time his cock flinched. He turned away and pushed to his feet, shoving Wade out of the way to the kitchen.

You edged off of the daybed after Logan, watching as he retreated to his room, punctuating his silence with his door slamming.

"What did you do to him?" Wade asked, thumbing over his shoulder after Logan.

Al's nose twitched, sniffing the air. "Y'all didn't fuck."

You straightened up and climbed off of the daybed, picking up your shoes to take to your room. "Of course we didn't, I invited him to nap with me."

"And he actually did it," Al added, shuffling to her signature seat in the living room.

"But when I ask him to have a boys' shower with me...!" Wade raised his voice, hoping Logan could hear him.

You stood in the hallway, staring across to Logan's closed off room, then over to your room next to Wade's. Instead of going to your room, you dropped your shoes at the front door then went to Logan's door.

Logan sat on the edge of his bed, willing himself to get back up and leave the apartment for a drink. That was until you opened the door.

"You okay?" You asked, holding onto the doorknob in case you needed a quick exit.

"Fine," Logan responded, short and gruff.

"Because I thought you were okay with napping next to me. If I'd have known you would embarrassed--"

Logan looked over at you, his brow quirking before sitting back on his hands. "Shut the door."

He tilted his chin for you to do so and you did with minimal hesitation. You stood against the doorknob, raising your brows at him to continue.

"Do you know you orgasm in you sleep?" Logan teased, smirking at you.

Something about his grin, so thin edged between menacing if not for the light in his eyes, gave you the feeling of being expertly seen.

Too seen, as if the animal man mutant was in fact targeted on you. Your breath stilted a beat, staring at Logan.

"I...I've been told of it before." You tried to hide the blush from your answer, keeping your eyes on him.

Logan's smirk strained a bit, his eyes flicking down your body in a half-second. "And you didn't think to warn me just in case? What about funny business?"

You broke, laughing nervously as you looked away. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't think it'd happen, it's usually in my bed."

Logan stood up, cocking a brow at you before reaching to undo his jacket. His smirk never left, turning away from you for a second as he went to his closet for a white beater.

"So, it's nothing about me being in your little wet dreams?"

You were struck still, as if Logan's words had Medusa's power. He liked how you squirmed so miniscule where you stood.

Your scent was strong, a growing sweat emerging from his line of questioning. Even now, he noticed how you were edging your thighs together as if to stop your arousal.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about." You were sure, or as sure as you could be, that when you did that, you didn't think you were saying anyone's name. Not that there were a lot of names on your roster.

It was a measly little crush you thought you were keeping quiet, but you were apparently projecting your crush on Logan as loud as possible.

Logan rolled his beat down to cover his body, looking over his shoulder to you. He turned and cornered you against his door.

"You made my name sound so good on your lips," he whispered down at you, his eyes eneveloping all of your intimate beauty.

Your eyes sparkled as he closed in, your blushing cheeks so biteable and inviting. Logan grit into his teeth, holding back even though he wanted to devour you. He had to admit to himself that he'd been hunting you in the apartment soon after you moved it.

It'd been too long since he'd been around a woman, much less a woman like you. Logan shut his eyes to breathe you in again, reminding himself of how he thought of you in his sleep. He'd wake up restless, harder than his own fucking claws, having to take matters into his own hands.

You bit into your bottom lip, titling your head up to meet Logan's eyes again. If he kept staring at you so hungry, you were sure you'd hyperventilate into your worst party trick again.

But Logan liked it. Because it involved him. It starred him.

"I must be good in your head, I make you cum every time." Logan's hand ghosted up your neck, bracing your jaw to hover just before your lips. "And so intensely, I want to make it real."

You begged internally for Logan to do so, your pussy pulsing readily as it did when you involuntarily came. His thumb brushed along your bottom lip, awaiting your answer only for you to whimper out: "Please."

Logan's eyes narrowed, his nostrils flaring like an animal. The brown in his eyes was slivered against his dilated pupils.

He dove into your lips, kissing hungrily and taking every soft whimper you offered in response. Logan reached to lock the door, allowing you to curl your arms around his neck.

He bent, grabbing the backs of your legs and carrying you over to his bed. "Strip. I wanna see that wet pussy."

You edged onto your elbows, working down your pants while your nerves enlivened against Logan's clean sheets. Your butt greeted his pillow comforter as you peeled your jeans down your thighs, only for Logan to take them the rest of the way.

He aggressively tugged them off of your ankles, leaving your legs suspended in the air for a moment until Logan grabbed onto them. Your breathing came uneven as Logan ran his calloused hands up your legs, admiring them begore draping your ankles against his shoulders.

He avowed to himself to try every position imaginable, just to taint your dreams further with his presence. He kissed at your ankle, nipped at your skin before raking his eyes down to glance at your bare pussy.

Shutting his eyes, Logan metered his excitement. He would not wear you out in your first time with him; maybe if he'd keep you overnight you'd realize how long his stamina was.

"Tell me how you want me," Logan ordered, though it was posed as a question.

Logan was stood between your legs, admiring and caressing them, pressing his waist just inches before your core.

"Like you are," you rushed out, reaching for your shirt to peel it off. "Right now."

Logan's eyes were graced with your natural form, the afternoon sun streaking across his comforter and your naked skin. The gold gave you the glow of a goddess, waiting patiently to be praised.

Logan would readily bend to your whim this way; his normally built up, guarded nature felt flawed as he was coaxed in your direction.

He reached to peel up his shirt, to embrace your skin with his, but you stopped him with a shake of your head. "Take your cock out and fuck me." The words made your mouth feel weird, though it came straight from your dreams.

Logan sneered, capturing your lips again as he undid his pants and pushed them far enough to free his cock, throbbing and leaking.

He braced a knee on the bed, guiding his cock up and down your slickened lips before sinking in an inch. You both paused, adjusting to this bold step in your relationship. His cock stretched at your entrance, making you point your toes in silent exclamation.

Logan noticed your pert nipples harden, your stomach hollowing as your walls pulsed eagerly around him. He relaxed his shoulders, once again pacing his desire from splitting you in half.

"Logan," you moaned, raising your hips for him to continue. "Please."

His ears perked at the soft piques that escaped your parted lips, trying to chase more of him. Logan's hand ran down to your hips, holding them off of the bed to sink in another inch.

You craned your head back to release a pent up moan. Logan instinctively reached out to clamp his hand over your mouth, bewildering you in the process.

"Shh, we have roommates." He spoke softly, a new tone for him. His eyes narrowed, boring into you and making you squirm under his stare.

Logan was in control over you, just as you wanted, inching further into and earning another muted sound. He dropped your legs, no longer able to keep the distance from you.

He slid over your body, hissing at the feeling of your nipples pebbled against his chest. Logan took your legs around his waist, thrusting in the rest of the way and earning a heightened noise from behind his palm.

He was burning alive, the heat from your cunt only driving him over the edge. Logan ducked his face for a moment, trying to regain himself from with anfew soft whimpers.

You were delighted to hear him break so close to your ear; your eyes fluttered as your hands drifted under his shirt to admire the structure of his back.

You shrugged his shirt up, guiding it over his head before tangling it off of his arms. Logan reluctantly broke away for a moment, tossing his shirt to the head of his bed before grabbing at you again.

He turned you both, sitting up on the edge of the bed and sinking even further into you. You and Logan looked down at him, realizing he was still inches out of you though he was already ringing your core.

He held his hands at your hips, biting his lip as his thumb brushed over the bulging lower part of your stomach. You rested your hands on his shoulders, circling your hips on his length before edging up on your knees.

Logan exhaled, another whimper escaping him as you met his eyes. Riding him, you felt his hands grip into your ass, following your movements on him.

He seethed, tilting his head back as you panted before his mouth. Logan took over a moment, thrusting upward into and earning a whimper.

He no longer wanted to keep you quiet, ready to hear and ingest every noise you made while fucking. Louder than in your dreams, earning the real thing.

"Logan," you mewed, staring into the man's feral eyes.

He growled, pressing his chest to yours so you could feel it. Your nipples grazed his wiry hairs, sliding down on his huge cock as he ran his dull nails down your thighs.

It was a salacious trio, earning you to pause midway and slam down on his length. You cried out, which Logan soaked in with running his lips up your elongated throat.

He gripped tighter at your ass, rolling your hips further to take in more of his cock. Logan grit, attempting to withhold longer than your now gripping pussy, ready to milk him dry.

Logan succumbed, groaning outwardly as his claws emerged from his knuckles and he came with a purpose for the first time in years.

You rolled your hips into Logan, riding into his spurting cock as your pussy drank it in. Ducking your head back, you whined, already wanting to go again.

Leveling back before Logan, you ran your hands up to curl your fingers through the short hair on his nape.

Logan kept you still, sparing his eyes away for a moment to will his claws back in without cutting you. He was slow in his efforts, distracted slightly by your descension to sucking on his neck.

He tilted his head to allow you further, grunting as your teeth grazed his skin. It was an intimate bubble you two curated, sweaty and clumsy. The streaks of sun stretched further into the room, decorating you both in golden hour glow.

Logan slid a hand up to your breast, kneading at it gently before taking your nipple into his mouth. You whimpered into his neck, pulling off of him to caress his nape.

You both froze as a knock on the door interrupted your intimacy.

"Logan, buddy, do you want to go get some shwarma? Tony Stark and friends went to this one up the street..."

"No." Logan barked out, causing you to flinch on his cock. He moaned lowly at your reaction before aiding you off of his length.

You reached for his shirt and put it on just as Wade wiggled the door handle.

"C'mon, Wolvie. I'm sure some food will cheer you up."

"Fuck off, Wade," Logan replied, undressing fully before climbing after you.

He grabbed your ankle, turning you onto your stomach. You grinned, hiding your giggles into the comforter as his shirt rode up to your stomach.

Logan teasingly bit at the backs of your thighs, then your ass before dragging his tongue up your back. You crooned, raising your hips in response.

"I want to replace every dream with the real thing," Logan huffed behind your ear, lining up behind you.

You raised up on your elbows, angling your hips, ready for Logan to keep going.

"Logan, the door is locked, bud!" Wade called out, making you snicker lowly.

Logan dropped his head back with a groan. "There's a reason!"

"You know to hang your mask on the door when you're 'polishing your claws'. And to hang mine when you need help."

You raised a curious brow back at Logan, who shook his head.

"Wade, seriously?"

"Come on, Droolverine. Let's hang out!" Wade rhythmically patted on the door.

You sat up as Logan climbed off of the bed and went to the door. He unlocked it, throwing it open far enough to greet Wade with his full frontal.

"Wade, for the last time, fuck off," Logan offered, leaning into the doorway.

Wade's eyes migrated carefully down Logan's torso, remapping everything he'd seen before, then barely dipped his eyes to take in his friend's hardened length.

"Oh, so you were 'polishing your claws'," Wade said with a wink. "And you don't need help with your honey badger?"

Logan snarled, earning Wade raising his hands in defeat. "Fair enough, I'll leave you to it. Hey, have you seen our other roomie? She's not in her room but her shoes are still here."

"Wade, they're fuckin'." Al called out from the living room. "Now go get some damn shwarma, 'cause I'm starving."

Wade laughed at Al, not taking it seriously until Logan opened the door further, showing you sat on his bed, in his shirt.

"And I wasn't invited? Come on!"

[luxcuriousao3]

Fevered Mistakes

Summary: Ghost, a formidable Alpha, is captured and dosed with rut inducers. You are the omega he's tossed into a cell with. WC: 3429 Warnings: a/b/o, graphic nonconsensual sex, nonconsensual drugging, unprotected PIV sex, referenced torture/experimentation, blood, vomit, death, hurt no comfort, background ghoap, POV switches denoted by triple asterisks (***) Notes: Based off the first half of this post that I made a bit ago. Ngl, I don't really like how this one turned out, but y'all were begging for it so, so I feel bad just letting it rot in my google docs lol. There are two scrapped versions of a second chapter that would make this fic farrrrr less angsty, but idk if I'm ever gonna continue this, so I'm treating this like it's a one-shot with the warnings. If I ever do post a continuation, it will be linked on my masterlist, so you can check for it there. And hey, maybe if y'all share your thoughts about this in my inbox or whatever, it might entice the brainworms again lol. Taglist: @captainsherlockwinchester110283

There was a girl in the cell.

She was small and soft in the way that almost all omegas were, though it was her scent that really gave her status away. Sweet and alluring but soured by fear, it invaded his nostrils and made him all the more dazed. The blow to his head, the one that had landed him in this situation, would have been hard enough to kill him, had he not been an Alpha.

He’d been sloppy. Let his feelings for Johnny get in the way of procedure. But seeing his beta, laid out on the floor, bleeding from his head, still as a corpse… he couldn’t have controlled himself if he tried. And at that point, he hadn’t wanted to try.

He’d gotten distracted, and he’d paid the price.

It had been three days since he'd been captured, by his best estimate. It was hard to measure, between the head injury and being kept in a room with no windows. All he had to go off of was how often someone came in to torture him for information. He never gave any up, of course. Even compromised, he never would. He'd been trained far better than that.

Still, he wasn’t in very good shape. Beaten to hell and back, his head scrambled… his feet dragged uselessly as he was pressed up against the bars, one of his captors unlocking the cuffs on his wrists while the other two kept him restrained. The fourth jammed a syringe into his neck, injecting him with some unknown substance. Ghost tried to break free, to throw a punch or a kick, anything, but his reflexes were sluggish, his thoughts painfully slow. All he succeeded in doing was annoying them, and he got an elbow to the back of his neck for the trouble.

He was no omega, couldn’t be immobilized by a simple scruffing, but fuck if that shit didn’t still hurt like a bitch. He collapsed to the concrete floor of the cell with an animalistic howl, and the sourness in the omega’s scent spiked, her heart rate speeding up. Ghost couldn’t find it in himself to care—the very last of rational thought was beginning to abandon him as the pain spread from the back of his neck throughout his entire body, growing unbearable as it reached his groin. He felt like there was fire raging just beneath his skin, and his senses sharpened as his dark gaze locked onto the wide-eyed omega curled up in the corner, neck cracking unsettlingly with the speed at which he turned. He had time for only one more thought before instincts took over, his heart dropping out his arse as dread turned the blood in his veins to ice before it began to boil all over again.

Rut inducers.

***

When you woke up, you were escorted to the cell in which you spend your heats. That confused you, since your next heat wasn’t supposed to be for another month at least.

It also terrified you.

Though you didn’t remember much of what happened during your heats, you did remember the pain. The desperate, burning need for an Alpha’s knot, and the aching, gaping emptiness when you were denied it, the only thing that could bring you any relief. This cell held nothing but bad memories, and you didn’t want to be anywhere near it.

But you had no choice. For as long as you could remember, you did as you were told, the way a good omega should. In your sleep, you thought maybe you saw glimpses of a time when things were different, when there were no scientists in white coats and men and women in military uniforms controlling your life. But you knew those were just dreams. None of it was real.

You sat on the thin mattress in the cold, dank cell for hours before something finally happened that could explain why you were there. A man was brought in—massive and with a terrifying skull mask on his face—and you barely had to take a whiff of him as he was shoved into your cell with you to know that he was an Alpha. There was that familiar smell of damp, scorched earth after a lightning strike, and you knew from the intensity of it that he was angry. No, not just angry. Furious. The very air reeked of electricity and burning plastic, overwhelming any hint of his natural scent. This was an Alpha that was ready to rip, rend, tear, kill. And you were stuck alone in a cell with him.

“Не сопротивляйтесь,” one of the uniformed men told you, expression entirely unsympathetic. It was almost worse than the look of sadistic, scientific glee on the face of the white coat next to him. “Ты сделаешь только хуже.”

Don’t fight back. You’ll only make it worse.

Your eyes widened, and you barely had a chance to shake your head before the unfamiliar Alpha was on you, grabbing your ankle in a brutal grip and dragging you away from the corner you’d curled up in. You screamed in pain as you felt the bone snap like a twig under his large palm, instinctively hitting your hands against his broad chest as you tried to fight him off. If you had been in heat, you wouldn’t have cared, wouldn’t have even felt the pain from him breaking you, would have spread your legs and begged him to knot you. But you weren’t, and so your survival instincts overtook those of your omega. You knew you would be punished later for disobeying, but at the moment, you didn’t care. Anything was better than being knotted by the feral Alpha on top of you. He would maul you to death while he fucked you, you just knew it.

The Alpha grabbed your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head. The other ripped your shirt off, causing your back to arch and your tits to spill out of your bra. He buried his face in your neck, inhaling deeply and letting out a satisfied growl. You tried to headbutt him, and he snarled in your face, wrapping a hand around your throat and squeezing tight enough to make your vision go black around the edges in less than ten seconds. By the time you caught your breath and were able to think again, his hands were busy yanking down your pants and underwear in one harsh tug. You let out a hoarse shriek of fear, flipping onto your belly to try and crawl away, ignoring the searing pain in your shattered ankle. But that was your fatal mistake. His beefy palm met the back of your neck, fingers digging in as he lifted you slightly by it, his other hand coming around to roughly grope your breasts.

And you stopped.

You stopped moving, stopped screaming, you nearly stopped breathing. You were limp as a ragdoll as he scruffed you, utterly and completely paralyzed. You could do nothing but take it as he shoved your face into the dirty concrete, pried your legs apart, and forced himself inside you. You could feel the agonizing pain as his cock practically tore you in half, could feel the ice cold fear freezing every cell of your body, could feel his blunt nails digging into the ultra-sensitive skin of your nape. You could feel everything. But you couldn’t do anything to stop it.

It seemed to go on forever, and yet take no time at all. One second, you were pliant and supine beneath the Alpha as he pounded into you, his weight constricting your lungs and making it difficult to breathe. The next, the restrictive grip on your neck was gone, replaced by a sharp pain at the junction of it and your shoulder as his teeth sunk into your flesh. Into your mating gland. Your own screams were echoing in the tiny cell, now, no longer confined to your head.

“M’sorry, M’sorry, M’sorry,” a rough, wet voice chanted in your ear. It was the Alpha, speaking to you in English. You could understand it, even if you couldn't speak it. He was still on top of you, still inside you, his knot stretching you far beyond your limits. And yet he was… apologizing? You stopped screaming in your confusion, the terrified screeching replaced by the sound of your heaving sobs.

“M’sorry, M’so sorry, they dosed me, M’sorry,” the Alpha continued, voice slurred. You struggled to focus on his words, distracted by the liquid you could feel dripping down your thighs. It was probably blood, you realized distantly. His knot wouldn’t have let any of his seed escape. That’s what it was there for.

That, and to keep you from running.

The Alpha’s voice grew more and more gravelly as his knot began to deflate, his apologies interrupted by grunts as he began to move his hips again, thrusting in and out of you shallowly. You whined, clawing at the floor, trying to wriggle free, but he just settled nearly his entire weight on top of you.

“Don’ fight,” he growled, and you could tell from the strain in his voice that he was at least trying to resist his instincts. It didn’t make you feel any better, especially not when his fingers inched closer and closer to your nape again. “Don’t, or m’gonna have to— fuck, I don’t— fuckin’ be a good omega an’ take it— m’sorry, fuck— don’t fuckin’ fight me—”

You were still sobbing, shrieking like a dying thing with every quick, brutal snap of his hips against yours. Too out of it from being scruffed, you missed the warning in his jumbled plea threat, continuing to struggle underneath him. You felt your ribs crack as he pressed the rest of his considerable weight onto you, and the strangled, stuttering gasp that left your throat was the kind of sound that belonged in a horror film.

The Alpha seemed to think so too, as he moaned in a horrid mixture of pleasure and abject misery before he scruffed you again. You went still, once more trapped in your own body. It was the worst sensation you’d ever felt, worse than the experiments the white coats ran on you, worse than your punishments, worse than your heats spent alone. Worse than the shattered ankle or broken ribs, worse even than the feeling of him ripping you apart from the inside. You were always helpless and vulnerable, being an omega, but this… when you were scruffed, you were no longer a person. You were just an object, to be used as your Alpha saw fit.

Your Alpha.

The man on top of you—who was knotting you for the second time now—was your Alpha. He’d claimed you, the pain in your shoulder was proof of that. You would wear his mark forever, now. You would belong to him for the rest of your life.

You prayed that it was short.

Your Alpha released his painful grip on your nape again, but you didn’t try to get away this time. You were far too disoriented. Being scruffed once was bad enough, but twice in as many minutes? You could easily go into shock from that. You probably were in shock, but you didn't panic, feeling too distant and floaty. The ice in your veins was numbing you from the inside. That was nice… you leaned into it, letting your blankly staring eyes flutter shut—

“Omega!”

Your eyes snapped back open and you whimpered, trying to curl in on yourself. That only caused pain to flare up all over your body, the burning between your legs as you tugged on his knot pulling another scream from you.

“Stay still,” the same harsh voice ordered, and your instincts forced you to obey. The command was a little more collected this time, a little more coherent, even if he was still groaning and slurring.

“Don' move,” your Alpha panted, each word sounding like it was dragged out of him. He started to fuck you once more. “Don’— don’ wanna scruff you ‘gain.”

You didn’t have it in you to be grateful. Didn’t have it in you to be sympathetic to his situation either, not while he was still rutting into you like an animal.

They dosed me, he’d said. You wished they’d dosed you. At least then you wouldn't feel the pain…

***

Simon had never hated being an Alpha more than in that moment.

Bollocks deep in a pretty little omega, one already stuffed full of his come and wearing his mark… he wished fervently that this was just another of his nightmares, the ones that stuck with him like a bad smell even after escaping Roba.

Between the disorientation from his forced rut and the nasty head injury, he almost let himself believe that it was. If it was a dream, he could give in, and he wouldn’t actually be hurting anyone. He could just ride it out, come in trousers wherever he was sleeping, and hopefully, it would end faster.

But her screams were far too real.

She wailed like she was being flayed alive as she struggled underneath him, and his Alpha—after being denied a partner for his ruts for over a decade—was brutal and swift in its response. Scruffing her like a scrappy mutt, growling in pleasure at the way she submitted to him—the way she was forced to submit to him.

It was nearly impossible to think around how fucked his head was—by instinct and injury both—but after he'd knotted her for the second time, he was able to act a little more like the trained soldier he was, and not like a panicked civvie.

He didn’t argue with himself any longer. He accepted the reality of the situation as it was. He was in rut. He was trapped with an omega. He had brutalized and claimed her. If he kept focusing on trying to stop himself altogether, he was going to kill her. He needed to give up on that and instead just try to minimize the damage.

Starting with stopping her from going into shock, and then stopping her from fighting back. It only made his Alpha all the more eager to dominate her—by any means necessary.

It sickened Simon that that part of him existed. Deep down, he feared that it always had. That Roba hadn’t created it, back in the desert. That he’d just unearthed it. All of Simon’s evilness, all his wicked desires…

It was why he’d never taken an omega before. Never even let himself date one, back when that was something he did.

Johnny was perfect, in that way. In many ways, really, but him being a beta—it soothed Simon’s fears. The fears that were being proved true.

He didn’t know how long passed before the rut inducers wore off. It had to have been hours. The omega—his omega—was still facedown on the ground when he pulled out of her for the last time. She was bleeding from where he’d bitten her, and where he’d bred her, his cock drenched in her blood, her own thighs stained with a mix of it and his come.

Simon threw up at the sight. He told himself it was just from the head injury.

He was naked, except for his mask, which was pushed up past his nose. He didn't remember taking off his trousers, though he recalled that his shirt had been cut to shreds the first day of his captivity by his torturer. He didn’t remember a lot of his mini-rut, as was common when it was induced. But the evidence of what he’d done was right in front of him. The omega—not mine, not my omega, not mine—was clad in nothing but the scraps of her clothes. Her side, hips, wrists, and the back of her neck were bruised. Her ankle was bent at a funny angle. A small patch of hair near her nape was missing, leaving her scalp red and raw. Simon looked at his hands, and found the strands woven between his fingers.

She didn’t move.

Simon pulled his mask into position and Ghost took over. He moved towards the girl, feeling for a pulse. She flinched violently when he touched her neck, and he felt relief—and guilt—reverberate through him. Ghost was good at ignoring his feelings, though.

“S’over,” he told her, voice gruff. “S’done now. Promise.”

The omega didn’t acknowledge his words, just kept her shoulders tucked up by her ears, guarding her neck. Ghost didn't protest, simply felt along her spine for any breaks. He didn’t find any, so he carefully rolled her over.

Her breasts were red and raw, nipples bleeding from being scraped back and forth across the floor. There was a hand shaped bruise around her throat, and petechiae in the whites of her glassy eyes. Ghost ignored his horror at the sight, and began to palpate her ribs. She inhaled sharply when he touched the eighth and ninth ones, a pitiful, pained whine escaping her.

The ribs were probably fractured, if not broken. The bruising above them was clue enough. There was another massive bruise low on her belly, and Ghost swore. Internal bleeding. He may have actually fucked this poor omega to death. There was no way she survived the night if she wasn't treated soon.

He got his pants and trousers on, hoping it would help her believe the worst was over, and then got to work doing what he could—wrapping her ribs with the dirty blanket in the corner, and holding the scraps of her shirt between her legs to try and stem the bleeding there. It wasn't enough. It wasn’t nearly enough. He didn’t even know if it was really worth the discomfort it caused her—but he couldn't bring himself to just let her die. She was his omega.

Not mine, not mine, not mine.

He talked to her as she faded. Tried to keep her awake with the sound of his voice, though he knew it was probably the last thing she wanted to hear. He told her stories from his childhood—the few good ones there were—told her the plot of the last film he and Johnny had watched, told her about Johnny. That was the topic he lingered on the longest. It was far easier to talk about his beta than himself. And by the time her eyes slipped closed and her shallow breathing stopped, it was Simon that was holding her, not Ghost, despite the mask on his face.

It was Simon that watched her die.

It was Simon that realized he didn't even know her name.

And it was Simon that howled with grief and rage, clutching the broken body of the omega—my omega, my omega, mine—against his chest.

Footsteps rapidly approached the cell, and Simon snarled like a rabid animal as he turned towards the bars. He barely had a second to pull his omega—dead, dead, dead, she was mine and I killed her, she was innocent and I killed her—behind him before a familiar voice rang out. The only voice that could have possibly reached him in this state, that could stop him from giving into his instincts completely and going feral.

“Simon?”

“Johnny,” Simon growled, sounding desperate and broken. He felt broken. This little omega had managed to do what Roba and a hundred others had failed at. And she hadn't even tried.

“Let us help her, Si,” Johnny coaxed, moving closer while Price and Gaz hung back. Wise, because Simon could barely keep himself from baring his teeth at his own beta. Johnny didn't back down. “Si. Let us help her.”

Simon hesitated for a long moment, fighting his overwhelming instincts, before moving away. Johnny rushed in, immediately checking the omega’s pulse and starting compressions when he couldn’t find it. Simon tried to struggle to his feet, but he nearly fell over, Gaz and Price catching him. He snarled, weakly pulling away from them, but they held fast.

“We got you, soldier,” Price’s deep voice rumbled in his ear. “Stand down.”

Simon slumped, unable to hold himself up anymore, all his injuries catching up to him.

“I killed her,” he whispered raggedly, eyelids falling shut. He felt Gaz shake him to try and keep him awake, but he simply didn't have the willpower, anymore. “She was mine and I killed her.”

The mantra rang in his head even as he lost consciousness, and her screams of pain and the look of fear on her face as she lay dying followed him into his dreams.

-

less angsty ending

[enviedear]

any head canons about how jason and dick would each comfort you in a bloaty, pre-period, “don’t look at me” body image day? both would be toothachingly sweet, I’m sure

ofc nonnie!! i just went through this hell (i feel shocked every month) and i don't mind dropping off some comfort for you, i hope you enjoy <3

𐔌 JASON TODD 𐦯 jason’s approach is all comfort...and distraction. he’d immediately notice you’re not feeling yourself—because this man knows you like the back of his hand—and without making a big deal out of it, he'd immediately find ways to soothe you. he'll throw one of his hoodies at you and say, "c’mon, put that on. you've been wanting it for weeks." he won’t push you to talk about it if you don’t want to, but if you do? he listens, brow furrowed, nodding like whatever you’re saying. if you grumble about feeling bloated, he’ll hum and say, "yeah? your body's working overtime right now, it'll pass baby." and if you try to argue? he just raises a brow like 'i dare you to fight me on this.'

he’ll tuck you into his side if you want to lounge aound, put on your comfort show or movie, and keep one big, warm hand resting on your lower back or abdomen, rubbing lazy circles. and if you’re in a mood and don’t want to be touched? that’s fine too—he’ll just sit next to you, legs spread out and arms crossed, just keeping you company. he also absolutely enables your cravings, making a store run for whatever you want and not letting you feel bad about it. "babe, if your body wants a deluxe combo and xl smoothie, who are we to deny it that? besides, i want the same."

𐔌 DICK GRAYSON 𐦯 dick is all about making you feel cherished, no matter what. the second he senses you withdrawing, he’s draping himself over you, pressing exaggerated smooches to your forehead, cheeks, anywhere he can reach. "what do you mean, don’t look at you? honey, i look at you every day and think—wow, how did i get so lucky?" and he means it, too—his voice is so earnest it’s impossible to argue.

he’s the type to run you a bath with your favorite scent, plop you in it, and sit outside the tub talking to you the whole time, keeping the conversation light and affectionate. the sort of conversations that make aches and pains lessen. when you’re out, he’s wrapping you in your fluffiest blanket and setting up a whole cozy nest on the couch with heating pads and tea. he’ll massage your shoulders, your feet, whatever part of you is sore, and if you so much as sigh contentedly—he’s grinning like show pony that was just awarded gold.

if you grumble about how you feel, he’s quick to shut it down—not dismissively or anything, but in a way that makes you see yourself how he sees you. "you’re allowed to feel however you feel, but just so you know? you’re stunning, always. no off days." then he’ll tilt his head, smirk, and say, "guess i’ll just have to stare at you extra until it sticks."

[bambiesfics]

𝗘𝗺𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝗦𝘂𝗽𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁 𝗚𝗳 — Ellie x Bimbo!r

��𝜚 Author’s notes ✦ Butch/femme dynamics, Ellie has a panic attack, this references joel’s death, anxiety, bile, nausea, and hyper sexual themes, Ellie’s butch, wears a packer/strap. Refers to it as cock, dick etc Reader’s a bimbo and genuinely stupid. Ellie gets really scared.

𝜗𝜚 Ellie Williams ✦ I listened to Vietnam - Crystal Castles it’s tempo mirrors Ellie’s panicked anxiety. I’ve linked to a few seconds before the beat drops, on YouTube for accessibility. Listen with earphones so the music fucks your ears.

𝜗𝜚 If you find yourself uncomfortable with the themes in this fic, maybe try educating yourself on Butch sexuality. Read this to get a sense of Ellie’s headspace.

kisses u. ⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡.

Ellie fisted the joystick into neutral and killed the engine. She cracked all 5 knuckles before reaching over to release your seatbelt. The belts cold buckle sprang across your breasts and over your shoulder, turning your nipples visibly hard and full in their wake. Ellie fought off the urge to glance down; to drink them in. She was semi-successful at managing away her inner teenage boy every time it chose to rear its ugly hungry head at inopportune moments.

  “So…” she started, her hand massaging the inner dough of your thighs, warmed by the hug of your crossed legs. “We just gettin’ your little sparkly earrings? Or are you gonna get distracted and spend more money than I make in a single paycheck?” 

  You ran your palms up the sleeves of Ellie’s brown military jacket. Fascinated by the texture of the rough fabric everytime one of its crinkles caught against your acrylic nails. You couldn’t fathom how Ellie walked around in clothes so rough and distressed, all of your outfits were soft cotton or silky satin. And here Ellie wore a deconstructed uniform jacket like it was meant for her body. You blinked away your distracted thoughts, and leaned into nose at her neck. Pressing nose and lips to the source of the most comforting scent in the world to you. Allspice, cigarette smoke, and 2-in-1 body wash. There was still a faint trace of her cologne, you wish she wore it, the traces of it made you go brainless for your butch.

  “Earrings only.” Your sweet voice was muffled against her neck. She reached her other hand up to cup the back of your neck. The cold metal of her rings kissed your skin, but you leaned into it.   

 “I’ll wait for you right here, peach.” 

“Okay.” You nodded obediently. 

“Don’t spend too long in there, okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded once again. 

“If anyone stares at you too long or makes you feel weird for being girly, call me and I’ll meet you wherever. Especially those judgemental ass grandmas.”

You looked up at her, her hair was in her eyes, casting a shadow that turned her gaze into a deep hunter green. 

You leaned in slowly and kissed her lips. Ellie attempted to chase the kiss, until you slid your hand between the valley of her breasts and urged her to stay. Behave baby boy. 

  Ellie’s right eyebrow quirked up in response, impressed that you kept her in check. That you knew her so well that you could tell exactly where that kiss could’ve led to if you didn’t tell her to slow down. 

“Be right back here in an hour.” Ellie was relishing in how your thumb rubbed across her chest. Your hand rested on her chest like you were her little damsel in distress, looking to her to save you. You made her feel like Clark Kent, and it made her want to puff her chest out. 

  “Hour-and-a-half, I wanna get ice cream.” You prattled.

  “An hour.”

  “Ellieeee” You whined. 

  “If you’re not back here by 2:30 pm, I’m stomping into Icing myself, throwing you over my shoulder and marching right back out.” 

  “Please as if you could hoist me up over your shoulder.” You leaned over to fish Ellie’s wallet from her back pocket. 

  Ellie side-eyed you intensely as she tracked the movement. She enclsaped your wrist in an iron grip once your acrylics brushed the back pocket of her jeans. Her thumb pressed down. You couldn’t move.

“You didn’t seem confused about my strength when I lifted you into that full nelson and pounded you in front of the mirror.” She dropped her blue steel face and started grinning like a fox. “Uhnnuhuh Ellie, m’gonna squirt. I’m gonna squirt on you daddy.” She mocked in a high-pitched overly feminine voice. She drew her eyebrows together to school up the appearance of someone deliriously aroused. One that mimicked your cock-drunk face all those days ago.  

  Ellie dropped the comedic expression for a moment, in favor of replacing it with the one she sported to intimidate customers who started testing her boundaries or her patience. The one that said ‘respect me.’  

“Fuck you, asshole. I’m made of steel.” She spat.

  You leaned up, and just planted a glossy kiss on her cheek. She blushed until she was cherry tomato red. She always blushed harder when you were affectionate to her, in the middle of her egotistical masculine delusions. Like a mom kissing her son's cheek, after he called himself Spider-Man. 

Ellie would tease you for hours. But remind her again you were her adorable little girlfriend who she worshiped, then she’d be back to acting right again. Ready to hump the air just to get a whiff of your hair. Sweet and pliable. Ellie crossed her fingers subtly and hoped you got specks of glitter gloss on her cheek from that kiss. She wore your kisses like merchandise. Those and the smell of your pussy on her mouth and fingers. Some days, the smell was just smeared all over her face. 

  You blinked at her, slow and pouty in the way that got her real happy and pleased. “Now that you’re done poking and teasing me, can I go inside to get my sparkly earrings?” 

Ellie slid her wallet into your palm, her lips parted at the way your acrylics snatched it. The way they sunk into the soft leather. Mmmm.

  “An hour.” 

You climbed out of her beat up hatchback. The metal groaned as you slammed the door shut. “See you Els, if I get in trouble or get lost I’ll call you okay? I charged my phone this time. Bye-bye.”  You sing-songed just before walking away, out of the parking lot and towards the entrance of the mall.

  You were the utter definition of hate to see you leave, but love to watch you go. Ellie drank in the very very obvious little characters of your ass. The jiggly flesh, dimpled skin, and the way they smacked each other with each step. The type of visual someone could only see if the person walking in front of them was naked. Which you practically were considering how your pink cotton leggings looked painted on. The silhouette was way too intimate with how well it showed the character of your ass. She could’ve forced you to change, but you two had such a good morning today. 

Ellie didn’t want to—no—she hated picking fights with you. Ellie being mad at you? That was just another Tuesday. She had temperament issues, trauma, death of a loved one blah blah blah. But you being mad at Ellie? She’d kill herself. She shuddered in the car at the thought of it, and swallowed her jealousy. Everyone sees your little dimpled ass? Fine. She’s the only person that’s seen it twerking for her during backshots. And anyway, you’d get jealous if she wore gray sweatpants to work, so she kinda understood the sentiment. Especially because she packed everywhere, and the bulge was glaring. 

  Ellie wrapped her knuckles on the steering wheel. Trying to distract herself from the slow and lonely weight of the parking lot. Joy Division’s “disorder” played in her head. She considered pulling out a Marlboro to smoke, but thought against it. She remembered how you squealed whenever she kissed you with cigarette breath, telling her how it made your kisses taste so bitter. 

Truth be told, she was just as clingy with you, as you were to her. You just initiated it more often. When someone follows her around like a little puppy trying to catch up to its much larger owner all day, it’s hard not to notice their missing presence. 

  Ellie played with her rings as the mounting anxiety gnawed at her tummy. She turned her wrist over to check her watch. Ten. Only ten minutes had gone by? Fucking christ. 

She puffed out her cheeks. Yeah she was being ridiculous. Knowing you, you probably had only just arrived at the store, and that meant making a cute pikachu face at every new piece of merchandise they shipped into the shop floor that week. So it’d be a while before you were back. She could’ve gone in with you, but Ellie knew her presence there would’ve weirdly encouraged you to take a full day tour of the mall. She was your walking wallet apparently. But it’s worse when the wallet can actually give in.

  It was better this way, you kept her card in hand, but Ellie wasn’t physically there to actually convince of anything. So you couldn’t use it to buy anything more than earrings. Plus, she couldn’t stand another trip to Victoria’s Secret. As much as she loved the way you modeled a show for her whenever you tried stuff on, and as much as the jokes she cracked with the other boyfriends waiting for their girlfriends to be done made for good conversation, Victoria’s Secret just served to make her feel incredibly out of place. Mostly due to its overtly sexual displays of femininity. Something she still struggled to place how she felt about. All Ellie knew was that she didn’t want it.

Matter of fact she had repelled femininity so much, it even reflected in her dating preferences. You were by far the most feminine girl Ellie had ever dated. That was a considerably large shift from the tomboys she typically had crushes on in highschool.  

But she couldn’t help but be turned on by the way your acrylics stroked her bulge, by the way you blinked up at her with those dolly lashes like you needed her approval more than you needed oxygen, by the way she got both wet and enraged seeing men’s gazes linger on you as she walked behind you. Lingering in a way that they never did for any of her exes. It ignited a possessiveness in her she had convinced herself she didn’t have the ability to feel. Made her walk out the house with her shoulders drawn up to her ears, scowling. As if to say to all the men, ‘fuck off, get your own cocksleeve. This one’s claimed.’ 

  You were the cutest cocksleeve too. The human embodiment of a little bow for her dick. 

Just the thought prompted her to squeeze her bulge through her jeans, feeling phantom erections.

God it’d been how long now? Ellie checked her watch, reading the watch face to make sure she’d read that right. Twenty minutes? Only?

  Her palms started perspiring, and she started grinding her teeth. It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine. She’ll be back any minute. Be cool, you freak. 

Ellie reached to grab her phone, but the way the time flashed at the top bar of the screen made her stomach knot up anxiously. She chucked her phone into the passenger seat, and rolled down the window to get some fresh air. It felt beautiful for a moment, her rough short hair curling around the wind and blowing in her eyes. But then she felt like she couldn’t breathe again. Like her throat was squeezing in on itself. So Ellie unbuttoned the top button of her navy plaid button down. She yanked the collar away from her neck, and took deep breaths. Nice and deep slow breaths. The demonic little shadows and whispers of panic ebbed away, leaving only room for peace and the sunlight of the early afternoon. Ellie smiled, she’d be fine. 

She played with her rings, recounting all the places and dates she’d thrifted them from. Then she started fidgeting with them as her leg bounced in the car, working off some of that returning nervous energy. The little shadows were starting to creep back in her mind again. Ellie white-knuckled the steering wheel. “No, no, no please. Not now, please not now.” She sucked in a deep breath as unshed tears lined her waterline. She flipped her wrist watch face up quickly, you’d been gone for thirty-five minutes by this point. And Ellie felt her skin run cold. thirty-five minutes left twenty-five minutes. Twenty-five more minutes for the ebb and flow of panic to infect her brain and trigger her adrenaline response. Twenty-five more minutes of letting her own mind attack itself. Ellie couldn’t stomach the thought. She started gasping as she fidgeted to remove the car keys from the ignition. The dark whispering shadow only urged her to look at one thought in her mind: Alone. You’re alone again, Ellie. 

  She nearly keeled over from the sheer nausea that thought brought about. Ellie tripped out of her car, slammed the door and stumbled towards the mall as her heartbeat thundered louder than her thoughts. And her thoughts were very loud. Her face felt tight and itchy, as she ran. And due to the combination of wind and glossy eyes, her vision warped until it became disfigured. Which only set off to make her blood run icier. Like she was being deprived of all her necessary  senses as she yanked the mall door open and stumbled around trying to wade her way through until she got to the side where women’s jewelry and clothing was huddled. Her vision was disjointed, Ellie felt as if she was looking through a fish-eye lens. It caused bile to rise in her throat. Ellie was spiraling, she knew it. And if she didn’t find you—fuck where were you?—it was only going to get uglier for her. She despised being reduced to ugly. She hated herself when she was ugly. 

  Snot mixed in with tears as she scaled the walls of the mall trying to use the brightness of pink and white signs to guide her to the right store. You promised you’d go to icing, you promised you’d go to icing, you promised you’d go to icing. She hummed the mantra in corners of her brain.

She gurgled “better fucking be at Icing otherwise I’m gonna kill he—my heart christ—fuck fuck fuck baby please be at icing.” The palpitations rolled in, causing her heart to beat erratically. Two beats instead of one, a skipped beat, or an extra hard beat. Every bastardized combination instead of the reliable, glub-glub of a healthy heart. Ellie gripped her own shirt, and tried to feel any lingering warmth from your hand when you placed it there nearly an hour ago. Her breaths were coming out ragged, and she was still blind with a disjointed vision no matter how much she rubbed her jacket across her eyes to soak up tears. Ellie stumbled until she saw a store with the familiar lettering, and she yanked and tugged at her shirt to ground herself as she made her way to the checkout lane. “Hi.” Her voice came out so small and strained. She hated herself for it. 

  “Have you seen a girl, she’s—seems about yay-high and she’s wearing pink leggings and a tight pink top. Oh—she’s pretty—long nails. My girlfriend, do you know where my girlfriend is?” Ellie choked, her sanity was slipping. Her bloodshot eyes were crazed as she stared down at the cashier like the woman held the answer to curing Ellie’s mental suffering. 

  “N-no. Sorry I didn’t see a girl with pink leggings.”

  “No?” Ellie’s voice grew fainter, weaker. She sobbed “are you sure?” but her voice crackled with that sentence, and the cashier just stared at her with a puzzled expression, unsure of what to say to diffuse the situation. 

  Ellie stumbled out of the store, flinching at the expressions of customers who were looking around the store to see if they were the only one witnessing the girl's mounting panic attack. She ran to an empty hallway in the mall. The one where they kept those gumball machines that hadn’t been replaced since 1998. She fell to her knees and curled in on herself. Her nails scratched her scalp until it broke skin, trying to draw out the thoughts of being alone, being alone, being alone, being, alone, being alone, being alone, being alone, being alone, out of her head. 

Ellie tugged at her hair now, using the self-inflicted pain to distract from that hungry giggling fear, the one that wrapped itself around her eyes and throat and told her to describe what she saw: loneliness. Pitch black, devoid of warmth, pure unadulterated isolation. 

She needed you, needed you so bad as she cried to herself on her knees. She should’ve never let you go alone, she should’ve never let you walk away from her, she should’ve never let you have an hour to leave her, she should’ve never let you take her wallet and not take her, she should’ve never ever ever ever ignored the signs, the raised hairs and the feeling of dread that pooled in her stomach the past week. Just waiting to be triggered by something insignificant. Now it was triggered, and in an incredibly public place too. Ellie beat her chest, coughing just to bring herself down from the dissociative hell her mind was flinching in. “Baby where are you? I’m hurting…it’s hurting me again. Pleasepleasepleaseplease, peach.”  

  Nails bluntly tickled her nape, sending a shiver down her spine just as the smell of sweet jasmine and vanilla perfume engulfed her. Ellie broke from her kneeling fetal position to draw you into her lap. She didn’t even need to look at you, she knew you like the back of her hand. Ellie knew the feeling of those acrylic nails because of how deeply they’d scratched down her back in bed. She knew the smell of your perfume from how often she’d buried her face into your waiting body after work for comfort. Her grip was painful, likely breaking capillaries from its tightness. She mewled for you like a kitten finding its mother. “Babygirl.” 

  “Ellie—Ellie I’m sorry did I take too long? I set an alarm, I don’t think it went off, I’m sorry Ellie I didn’t mean too I promise.” Ellie let out a wet laugh from where her face was crooned in your neck. She just shook her head. It absolutely was not your fault. But God weren’t you just the cutest fucking thing in the world for thinking you’d made another little mistake? How sweet, that even in the face of Ellie’s utter mental crack and breakdown, you found a way to give your baby the benefit of the doubt. Ellie dragged her face up your neck, inhaling deeply as her nose traced a path up your throat. The scent alone was like Xanax to the nerves, drowning her in a sea of serenity. Letting the anxiety ebb away until it was no more than a dull twinge, the whispers reduced to muted hums. You were her light. Ellie’s grip on you tightened, her medicine. 

  She pulled her face away, and she could only imagine how distressed she must’ve looked by the way your eyebrows drew up, and by the way your pretty little lips formed a worried pout. Ellie gnawed on her bottom lip. There was nothing to fear, you would understand. 

“You didn’t take too long princess, I just had a panic attack.”

  Your hands flew to cup Ellie’s reddened blotchy cheeks, massaging her face cutely as her eyelashes fluttered. God, you were a balm. “I should’ve seen it coming, I’ve been feeling so out of it the past week. But then this morning was so fun. We made fluffy pancakes, you sat on my lap and listened to my dumb work drama, helped me trim my bangs, then...” Ellie blew air into her cheeks and looked up. This was going to be hard to say. Felt like a lump stuck in her throat. “Then we got ready and the kiss we had before we got in the car made everything melt away. This morning was so good baby, so good. I tried to ignore it, thinking my brain just wanted to be a little asshole and spook me for no reason. But no—I should’ve known—it doesn’t play tricks, it only gives warnings.” 

  Ellie leaned into your palms, she kissed them gently. “Can we go home baby?.” She held your gaze through wet eyelashes. You nodded “Mhm. I’m sorry Els I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I missed you.” You were disappointed because you didn’t intuitively know the right words to say, and how to say them. Didn’t know how to articulate that you understood her pain but she also shouldn’t beat herself up. Everything you thought of sounded cliche, you weren’t smarter than her, you weren’t able to come up with reassuring words the way other people could. Not like her uncle Tommy or Maria, or anyone. All you could do was cover her in kisses, tell her you loved her, that next time you’d never ever be separated from her, and cradle her head against your chest. 

  Ellie rose to her feet, pulling you up with her by your elbows. The kiss that followed was for comfort, for reassurance. For the feeling of squeezing her human emotional support plushie. 

  Ellie pulled away first, leaving you wanting more. She tasted so good, smelled so good. Made you want to pur and stroke her through her jeans. But it wasn’t the time nor place. Not after recent events. 

“Did you get your earrings at least?” 

“Yeah, I got a pair for you too!” You shared excitedly. 

  Ellie was still shaken up, but for now she could break out a small grin. “You got earrings for me?”

  “Yes, same color too!” 

  “Baby, my ears aren’t even pierced...”

  “Oh.” Ellie loved that, your characteristic little ‘oh’. 

“I knew that. I just got them for when—for when you decided to pierce them, yeah.” 

Ellie was hot in your heels as you two made your way out of the mall “Is that right?”

“Mhm.” You refused to meet her eyes.

“Oh yeah? K, then. Thank you so much for getting me a gift using my credit card.”

 “You’re very welcome, I love when we match as a couple. Els when we got home, did you want my chicken noodle? Cause it’ll make you feel better.”  

Ellie sucked in a breath. Cuteness aggression was real, and she was feeling it so hard right then. Right after her emotions had already been frayed by her anxiety. She knew, if it wasn’t for the way the panic attack had left her feeling utterly exhausted, bone tired like a wet blanket, ready to drop at a moment's notice to recuperate, that she would’ve done something that would’ve pulled a squeal out of you in the car. And she had the package to do so. 

  “Sure, I’ll eat your damn noodle soup.” She chuckled tiredly. 

  You put both palms on her chest and leaned in to kiss her, stealing back some of the desire that was ripped away too soon in the mall. 

“You’ll feel better in no time.” 

 Ellie gave you a once-over. Over eager, as usual. 

“Somehow I don’t doubt that.” 

  You littered her face in kisses all the way home, like you always did. Like you thought each press of your lips to her freckled face was going to cure her of her anguish. And believe Ellie, every press of your puffy lips to her cheeks, tip of her nose and forehead did more for her state of mind than two hours of trauma therapy a week did. Or at least that’s what she’d like to believe. Fuck the noddle soup, it’s you. You’re what’s going to make her feel better. As long as you’re there, everyday for her to come home to. All she needed was her pretty princess, her little babydoll, her little bimbo.

[peppertoastuniverse]

pep reads: geto suguru – long fics

But dang, i didnt realise we were all so thirsty for geto the brainrot is so real

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ

☆ as we walk by cerialilith [AO3] [status: unknown ◦ 29/? chapters] [singledad!geto] [slow burn] [eventual smut!] [nocurses!AU] #sweet, softest sugu

He only loves two things in life: the scent of coffee and his daughter. But perhaps he can make a few adjustments.

— In which the single mother across the hall manages to catch Geto’s eye without him realizing it.

☆Temptations by @peachsayshi [AO3/tumblr] [status: ongoing ◦ 5/6 chapters] [ smut!] [nocurses!AU] #sugu treats you RIGHT #pep MELTED Suguru Geto is a playboy. A man who's had more lovers than he can even count. You've never been in a relationship, not even experiencing a real kiss when you first meet Suguru. But the two of you fall for each other, and you know that he's the one you want to experience all your firsts with.

☆ Breathe Me In by lovelied [AO3] [status: completed ◦ 5/5 chapters] [smut!] #pep love this characterization of Suguru Desperate for distraction, a troubled Suguru Geto began inviting you over each night. It began as a casual arrangement, but over time, you found yourself yearning for him in ways you couldn’t quite explain.

☆The good morrow by @temozarela [AO3/tumblr] [status: ongoing? ◦ 2/? Collection of fics] [smut!] #pep’s comfort fic

You narrowed your eyebrows as you felt your body being jolted, large hands gripping your face, and then your shoulders. Groaning softly, you turned in your sleep, trying to make sense of the voice fading in and out of your brain. It didn’t sound like it was from your dream… It was hushed… low… soft…

It sounded like your name.

aka.

geto finds you after his defection to say goodbye

☆ Mascara by softsellars [AO3] [status: unknown ◦ 5/7 chapters] [smut!] [tw!cheating] [nocurses!AU] [artist!suguru] #complex reader, patient sugu

You've never been a particularly good person, you're self-aware enough to know it. It's your only flaw, and recently you've actually been working to better yourself.

For example: paying for a 30-dollar Uber so you can take your friend home only for her to ditch you for some guy when it comes down to it. Although you’re pissed, you decide to try and make the best of it instead of get into a screaming match with her.

It's an easy thing to do when Getou Suguru is offering you everything to do just that. Everything a party entails: liquor, weed, and sex with a perfect stranger.

And Getou knows perfectly well you have a boyfriend, so it's not like he'll want anything serious.

***Porn with a little plot

☆ Whisper of the Petals by @nanamis-baker [tumblr!] [status: on going ◦ 2/? chapters] [slow burn] [College!AU] #SO SO SWEET #sugu with dumb feelings

A mystery blooms on your doorstep. A breathtaking bouquet of white flowers, a silent whisper of apology... but it's not for you. Delivered under the name of a man so handsome he takes your breath away, the mix-up sets your heart racing.

Fate seems determined to keep throwing you together, and soon you're caught in a whirlwind of chance encounters and undeniable chemistry. It was almost as if it was trying to bring you together. ☆ AFFECTION'S EDGE by @rush-the-stars [AO3/tumblr] [status: completed ◦ 3/3 chapters] [omega!verse] #THE INTENSITY?!

“You’ve got it all wrong,” he murmurs, “but what am I to expect from a stray like you? You’ve lived off scraps and abuse your whole life; of course you don’t know what to do now that I’ve given you food and shelter.” Suguru’s fingers ease up towards your neck as he continues, “a warm bed to lie in. Toys to play with. A collar—so you’ll never be lost again. No one’s ever given you this before, hm?”

*** Suguru tries to tame you.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ

bonus!

☆ Musubi by Penrose_Quinn [AO3] [status: unknown ◦ 2/? chapters] #LOVE THE CHEMISTRY

Then there was a quiet shrewdness in the way he carried himself. You would call it cocky, but this one proved to be more poised and collected on how things would unfold for him. Framed with the anchor of his composure, legs stretched out in front of him but not overly laid-back, and his mind – whatever unfathomable brilliance that dwelt underneath – was unperturbed, self-assured. You wouldn’t claim to have known him entirely though like this, Suguru looked more like himself. “But you won’t disappear,” he concluded. “Not yet anyway.” You gave in to a hum. “You’re really making it tempting for me to leave you hanging on nothing.” Suguru listened, waiting. His pursuit was a game of patience and you chased after the gamble.

Or: the string of each encounter was an entanglement to what brought you closer to him, twisted in each other’s darkness, torn and tied back together throughout the years.

[starzcoree]

⋆ 𝖣𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖱𝖠𝖢𝖳 𝖸𝖮𝖴 ೨౿ （ 𝑙.ℎ𝑠 ）

❛𝖽𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎❜

․․ 𝒮𝗒𝗇𝗈𝗉𝗌𝗂𝗌 .. heeseung as your boyfriend, helps you to get over the workplace frustration ── 𝑏𝑓.heeseung x 𝑓𝑒𝑚.reader ․ ˙ 𝒞𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠 .. fluff , skinship , kissing , mild suggestive ✿ 𝑤𝑐 .. 738

𝑎𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾 ․․ this is my first work, hope u like it <33 ╱ 𝑡𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 .. 𝑚𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗂𝗌𝗍 ⋆

Pushing the wooden door of your apartment, you entered inside before kicking the door behind your back creating awful noise enough for your neighbours to rise up from their sweet dreams.

Upon hearing the disaster-like noise echo through the whole apartment, your boyfriend ran out of his bedroom, finding you aggressively taking off your shoes before you dashed towards the couch, throwing your handbag somewhere in the room as you plopped on black leathered comfortable material you call couch.

You were too tired and annoyed to even care about taking off your blazer. Your hair was messed, falling all over the armrest of the couch but who cares.

Heeseung till now has been certain that something was wrong as he noticed how you didn't look for him after coming back from your job.

The way your first sentence after unlocking the apartment door was ‘Hee! I am back’ was nowhere to be found. The way you would cutely roam around the house asking him how his day was then sharing your own day was something he always looked forward to, but not today.

The way your face sneered and your lips twitched, sulking like a small kid made him smile. Either way now he has to help you out as a good boyfriend he is.

With a slow pace he approached you, plopping himself just beside you, his bambi eyes looking for your pretty orbs covered by your arms.

“Are you okay, baby?” The guy asked, his tone soft and delicate.

One hand resting against the headrest of the couch while the other went over to the coffee table, placed in the middle of the room. He tried to get a better glimpse of your face.

Upon hearing his question, you slightly shook your head digging your face inside your arms to not let him see it.

“What happened baby? Just tell me.” He again tried to get the piece of information regarding your frustration so he could comfort you as much as he was capable of. His long arms now slightly wrap around your torso before pulling you closer.

He made your head to rest against his bare shoulder that was half covered by the sleeveless black t-shirt he was wearing.

The woody scent of him hit your nostrils as you found yourself snuggling more into his muscular body that made you feel warm and comfortable.

“My boss scolded me today because I made a mistake.” Giving him the short note of what exactly is the reason for your odd behaviour, you purse your lips annoyingly still remembering how that old man literally used every hurtful word he could to make you demotivated.

Heeseung slightly chuckled, finding your angry self kind of cute. His fingers brushed against your silky hair, caressing them. His attractive laughter sound made your heart flutter but you remained calm, not making eye contact with him yet.

“Do you want me to distract you?” He suddenly suggested making you slightly confused. Usually he would just tell you to move on from those thoughts but today he seemed to have other plans to make you feel better.

Pressing your lips together, you slightly nodded, getting curious of what he might actually have thought of. A little excitement occuring inside you when he slightly straightened himself on the couch, smiling.

“Then look at me.” He ordered with a muffled voice making your heart accelerate by how attractive he sounded just now. Making your torso straight, you slightly lift up your gaze to meet his deep ocean orbs filled with love and affection.

A soft and delighted smile on his face as your eyes met, giving a twitching sensation in your stomach. Waiting patiently for his next move you noticed how his gaze that was just looking into your eyes not second ago suddenly shifted to your lips.

Before you could even process anything the next moment you saw him leaning down before plump lips crashed over yours giving you a small and sweet peck.

Widening your eyes, your cheeks flushed. The blood rushed through your veins to your whole body. It was not the first time he kissed you but everytime he does it feels like being surrounded by a new spell of love from him.

The warm sensation of his plump lips was still lingering against yours as you slightly touched your lips in shyness before burying your face into his broad shoulders.

A soft chuckle escaped Heeseung's lips knowing well how flustered you are now. Without a second thought he wrapped his arms around your figure, pulling you into a light hug, while his other hand caressed your hair.

“Now you are distracted.”

taglist ( open ) .. @huenkii — let me know if you want to be tagged ^^

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

somnophilia with John wick from the prompts? 👉🏽👈🏽

jw & fem reader

gif by the wonderful @scarlettspectra. TRIGGER WARNING(s) Somnophilia (from Latin somnus "sleep" and Greek φιλία, -philia "friendship") is a paraphilia in which an individual becomes sexually aroused by someone who is unconscious. & a bit of exhibitionism

You had waited for him all day. Flitting around the house, cleaning and cooking and making sure everything was in line for his arrival. Wearing his favorite dress, playing his favorite music on the stereo, chilling a fresh bottle of his favorite bourbon.

A month and a half. That’s how long it had been since you last saw the person  whose presence gave meaning to your life. So, naturally, you were brimming with excitement, heart pattering wild and strong in your chest, body giddy and jittery—unable to regulate haywire nerves. John was coming home. 

He wasn’t often gone for this long. It was an important job. Something involving a very, very rich man paying him to complete a very, very difficult task. Of course, you knew what his tasks usually included, but didn’t like to think about it too much—couldn’t think about it too much…

It was just hard to imagine…your John killing someone. The same John that took bugs outside instead of squashing them, who cleaned up his bar table and tipped more than generously, who always held the door open and returned shopping carts. Who was sweet and kind and treated you like you were made of paper-thin glass unless you specifically requested otherwise. 

The text comes in mid-evening, just as you’re putting his untouched dinner away and cleaning up the kitchen. Hey, dollbaby, my flight got delayed until tomorrow at six AM. I’m sorry. Don’t stay up worrying about me.

It’s disappointing, but you have to admit you’re used to this. It just comes with what he does, and you’ll gladly endure it with a smile for him. However, that doesn’t mean you can grant his request and stop yourself from worrying. With a little sigh, you type back: Okay, John. Love you.

I Love you, too.

You try and pass the time; go for a late swim, read a book, snuggle up on the big leather couch to scroll TV channels for movies. Except none of that works to distract you from John’s missing shadow, and you just end up with your head buried in a throw pillow, inhaling his residual scent and pretending the cushion is his chest.

You decide to invite some friends over for a good distraction, and they bring card games and beer and wine. You have your own stash of alcohol, so between you and three of you closest, you end up drinking a little too much and passing out halfway through game night. 

John finds you in the icy blue light of breaking dawn, breathing even and slow and slung haphazardly on top of your mattress. The residual burn of spirits heat your skin ruddy, and you have long since kicked the comforter off to leave yourself bare and unsuspecting of the hungry wolf who’s cock fattens at the sight of you—his big tshirt snuggling against your curves, the hint of a panty seam visible along the soft skin of your hip

He discards his clothes into a pile on the floor, too starved for flesh to care about being his usual tidy self, and climbs on the bed to run the tip of his tongue along that delicious cut crease of supple flesh.

You stir and whine, hand coming up momentarily to bat the tickly feeling away, only to weakly fall back down onto the bed, its task lost in the dark deep of your slumber. 

With a wicked grin, he moves his mouth down your thigh, licks into the seam behind your knee, then treks a wet path of kisses over your calves. You squirm and kick, trapped by heavy sleep, defenseless under his tongue.

He knows that, by now, you’d be begging him sweetly to make you cum, arching up into his teasing mouth for more, hanging on to his beautiful throw of silky hair as he laps at your panties. Always so impatient, his sweet girl. 

God, he missed you. Missed your smell and taste, the way you buck your hips, that little tender space between thigh and cunt that makes you squeal when he flicks it with his tongue. 

He nudges your panties to the side to reveal an already glistening wet and swollen pussy, your clit ripe and fresh, ready for his mouth to pluck and taste. Even in your sleep, you’re more than ready to sheath his cock.

He suckles at your folds gently while you stir awake with a sleepy little moan. “J-joh-jjj,” you slurr, gripping at the plump pillows while your cunt tenses and thighs attempt closing. 

So sensitive in that foggy place between sleep and wake, with his familiar mouth on you, impatient and insistent.

He holds your thighs open and eats—devours your cunt sloppily from the back, groaning about how good you taste and how much he missed it. “It’s okay, baby, no no no, come’ere, I gotcha. That’s my girl.” Two fingers curled inside, coaxing a fast approaching orgasm from your perfect little pussy. 

“Gonna, gonna-ah c-cum,” you tell him, clenching on his fingers, once shy clit now grinding down onto his tongue. You’ve just missed him so much, and it’s been so long, and you haven’t even touched yourself at his specific request, so it’s no surprise that it only takes seconds of cunnulingus just the way he’s learned you love it to have you soaking the sheets below your hips. 

“Good job,” he coos, bringing you down with little kisses to your puffy lips and chafed thighs, sucking his fingers clean and closing his eyes against the savory flavor of your slick. “You okay, babydoll?” 

“Uh huh,” you tell him, still twitching from the heavy orgasm, eyes threatening to close again, too tired to wipe the little bit of spittle off your chin. 

You feel him shift behind you, and then his thick tip press against your still spasming entrance, ready to overwhelm and overstimulate and leave you a babbling mess. His cock is built for your pleasure and demise, and as he enters, invading and pillaging the sensitive walls of your cunt, your eyes fly open and you sob into the pillow.

Something like, “o-oh fuck-“

“Shhh, baby.” His warm touch finds the base of your skull, that soft tug on your unkempt tangles guiding you back into his slow, deliberate thrusts. “Your friends are in the living room, gotta be quiet for me.” 

“Y-yeah Jo-ohn.” You try and tell him just how much you missed him, but the words jumble and stick, translating to half-muffled moans. Tears bead at your waterline in submission to that first stretch of his unfairly girthed cock. 

He understands your incoherent babbles perfectly. “Fuck,” he growls, tip kissing your cervix, “I missed you, too. Missed this tight little cunt.”

You have to bite down on your knuckles to keep the animalistic sounds of pleasure at bay, as he fucks you. So often, this beautiful man makes love to you, slow and soft. This is not one of those times. 

If you could think, it would be about how loud the sound of his hard pelvis clapping against your soft ass is, as he chases that otherwise unobtainable high that only your cunt can bring—that he thought about every single minute he was gone…the reason he’s alive.

You’re sobbing from it all—the way he splits you open so perfectly, the tiny dark whispers of reassurance, the fact that he’s alive and well and all over and around you; big hand pressing your lower back down for better and deeper access inside your cunt.

The way he just knows, even in his own rough desperation, how to unravel you—make you see the cosmos and beyond, into the soupy blackness of unexplored universe. 

“You coming again, baby?” He doesn’t have to ask, because he knows you are, more than familiar with the way you unfold and shatter. 

“Y-yeah-huh.”

He puts you on your back with practiced gentleness, and cups your sweaty cheeks in his hands before sucking your bite-swollen lower lip into his mouth, managing to stay buried inside you through the easy transition, swallowing your whimpers while his cock works out the final flutters of your orgasm. 

“Oh, John,” you say, when he stops licking at your throat to allow the both of you some much-needed, panting breath. “F-fuck, John.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he says, brushing the sweaty hair off your temples and pecking tiny wet kisses over your face. “I gotcha, it’s okay. Johnny’s here. Open your pretty eyes, let me see you.” 

In a deep, stuttering thrust, when you clamp like a vice around him, he loses himself inside of you, and you are with him. Utterly overtaken, love burning through your blood, body singing in rapturous heavenly choir. This is as close to the pearly gates you will ever get, you think, as you float down from the high. 

There is a cut on his temple that you failed to notice, and you touch just below. “You got hurt.” 

“I’m better, now.” 

With him nestled beside you, arms wrapping around and sheltering your body with his own, legs supporting your bottom and cock still softening inside your cunt, you feel sleep creep back up like an old friend.

It isn’t long before he’s succumbed to it, himself, happily snoozing nestled in your hair. You don’t know what he’s been through in that long stretch of absence, but it doesn’t matter now. 

He’s here with you, and that’s enough.

[thezombieprostitute]

The Hunt

Warnings: Kidnapping, Stalking, Talk of breeding. Please let me know if I missed any!

A/N: Reader is big & tall female.

A/N2: written entirely on my phone. Apologies in advance for errors.

Summary: Kraven's hunt gets distracted by you.

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Kraven prides himself on dedication to his work. His ability to lock in on a target and pursue them to the end sets him apart. Among other things, of course.

So imagine his surprise when a new scent throws him off track. It's not a perfume or cologne, no. This is natural and sweet in a way that makes him hungry for something other than food. He tries to go back to his target, he has a job to complete and the city makes it easy for prey to escape. But that scent is maddening. If he's to catch his true target he has to remove the source of his distraction.

He follows the scent further than he expected. For such a distraction he'd thought it would be closer to his first location. It led him to a public library. A small growl escaped him as he thought of stalking the source of the scent through the bookshelves.

Kraven shakes his head. He's not used to losing control like that. At least not in a crowded city. He steels himself and steps inside.

The strength of the scent makes him think it's an employee or at least a regular visitor. It's practically embedded into the place. He wants to go straight to the source but he knows it would be wise to go at this in a more indirect way. Stalk the prey, find its weaknesses before it even knows it's in danger.

That's when he spots you working at the reference desk. All his instincts tell him you're the source. More than that, you're his mate. Kraven knows some animals mate for life but even he never understood the mechanism behind that connection. Well, until now at least.

You get up to go on your lunch break and Kraven's eyes widen a little when he sees your physique. The animal side of him is saying you're perfect for bearing tall, strong children that will survive the wild. The human side of him isn't helping, pointing out that working a job like this means you're intelligent and patient. All of him is in agreement, you'd be a perfect mate.

At that moment you feel the hairs on the back of your neck rise and you turn to try to spot the danger. Kraven quickly hides behind some shelves.

The hunt is on.

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Tagging:

@alicedopey ; @delicatebarness ; @hederasgarden @icefrozendeadlyqueen ; @irishhappiness ; @kmc1989; @lokislady82 ; @ronearoundblindly

[konigsblog]

catching könig huffing your panties. ၄၃

tw/cw; afab!f!reader, panty sniffing and stealing, dom!könig towards the end, handjob. MDNI 18+

könig couldn't help himself, taking advantage of the opportunity in front of him.

he was in charge of folding the laundry and washing all of the clothing today, a worn pair of panties held tightly in his hand that could only be owned by you. it smelt like you as well, the sweet essence of your arousal causing his dick to harden and stiffen, throbbing inside of his tight boxers.

könig felt a little bit of shame and disgust using a dirty pair of your panties to get himself off, but right now könig was thinking with his dick rather than his head. he gripped his hung boner firmly, his calloused fingers wrapping around his shaft, stroking himself messily and sloppily while huffing at your sweet scent. he growled out hoarsely, rolling his calloused thumb over his sensitive, weeping tip gently, throwing his head backwards.

he was too distracted, too busy getting off using his girlfriend's underwear, which would eventually lead to his downfall. each drag and stroke left könig's breathing fast and laborious, his stiff and thick dick aching and his orgasm building up quickly. könig didn't notice the sound of the door creaking open, he hadn't noticed your presence looming over him, still jerking himself off. only when you sat on his big lap did he notice, his eyes wide with humiliation and mortification, freezed in place holding his sore cock.

könig apologised profusely for his dirty actions, his eyes half-lidded and delirious and full of pleasure, already pushing you down against the bed to undress you. you didn't fight him at all, giggling at his neediness and his perverseness, his depravity to get off using a pair of your filthy underwear. god, your insides felt even better than his scarred, rough fingers. your walls were gummy and tight, pulsing around his weeping cock, your velvety soft pussy coating könig in a layer of your euphoria, your pearly stickiness smeared along his veiny, girthy shaft.

könig thrusted deep into your walls, fucking himself stupid while using your slick pussy as a fleshlight for his own use. your little cunt squeezed his dick perfectly, in a way könig couldn't mimic with another toy or his hands. he groaned and grunted gutturally, panting heavily with his lengthy dick twitching inside of your wet heat. it didn't take long for the large man to come, finally pumping your hole full with his milky, creamy load, your cervix sore by the end of his fun.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Bucky treating you like a princess when you’re on your period

Pairings: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Bucky takes care of you when you’re on your period.

Warnings: Fluff, language, Bucky being the best boyfriend ever, periods, crying, hugs and kisses, cuddling, pet names

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators. I found it on Pinterest.

Bucky heard a whiny groan come from the bathroom. He knows that groan. That’s the noise you make when you get your period. He watched as you walked out of the bathroom and got back in bed with tears brimming your eyes. Bucky wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer to him.

“Is it your time of the month?” Bucky asks softly.

You nodded your head and sniffled. He pulled you onto his lap and rubbed your back with his vibranium hand.

“How about I go get us something to eat, ok?” He says.

“Yes please.” You say quietly, loud enough for him to hear.

Bucky kissed your lips softly and gently maneuvered you to lay on the bed. He covered you up with a blanket and kissed your forehead, making you giggle.

“Get some rest, doll. I’ll be home in a little bit.” He says softly.

You watched as Bucky grabbed his keys and wallet before drifting off to sleep. Your nap was short lived when you woke up to a bad cramp in your lower abdomen. You whimpered at the pain and slowly sat up. You went in the bathroom and rummaged through the medicine cabinet for aspirin, but couldn’t find any. You whined and went back to yours and Bucky’s bedroom. You seen one of Bucky’s shirts on the floor. You picked it up and changed out of the shirt you’re wearing and put on Bucky’s shirt. You smiled to yourself, smelling Bucky’s scent on it.

You walked out of the bedroom and went to the kitchen for some water. You made yourself comfortable on the couch and scrolled through Netflix. You found your favorite movie and played it. You fell asleep about halfway through it. Bucky came home around the same time. He put the grocery bags in the kitchen before going to the bedroom, thinking you were in there, but you weren’t. Bucky frowned and went to the living room, hearing soft snores coming from the couch. He smiled when he seen you. He paused your movie and sat down next to you on the couch. He noticed tears on your face and you mumbling something in your sleep.

“Doll, wake up. You’re dreaming.” Bucky says softly, gently shaking you.

You jumped and sat up, immediately throwing yourself in Bucky’s arms and started crying. He pulled you onto his lap and rubbed your back to soothe you.

“You’re ok, babydoll.” He coos. “Do you want to tell me what happened in your dream?” He says.

“You left me cause you didn’t love me anymore.” You tell him.

Bucky gently cupped your cheeks, getting you to look him in the eye.

“I want you to listen to me when I say this.” He starts. “I love you with all of my heart, babydoll. You’re the love of my life. I’m never going to leave you.” He says.

“Promise?” You asked with a pout.

“I promise.” He almost whispers.

Bucky kissed you with so much passion. He made you feel like you were the only girl in the world in that moment.

“I love you so much, doll.” He says.

“I love you more, Bucky.” You say with a smile.

Bucky played your movie while he held you on his lap. You weren’t really paying attention to the movie. You got distracted with Bucky’s dog tags.

“Do you want to see what I got at the store?” Bucky asks, breaking the silence.

“Yes please.” You say.

You got off of Bucky’s lap and stood up. Bucky took your hand in his, leading you to the kitchen. You watched as Bucky took everything out of the plastic bags, showing you what he bought. Your emotions got the best of you and you started tearing up.

“What’s wrong, my sweet doll?” Bucky asks with concern in his voice.

“I feel like a shitty girlfriend.” You say.

“No you’re not.” He says.

“Yes I am.” Tears rolled down your cheeks. “I didn’t realize you love me this much.” You say.

“I always confess my love to you. You know that.” He says, hugging you.

After a moment, Bucky wiped your tears away and you looked at what he bought with a smile on your face.

“You always treat me like a princess.” You say, looking up at him.

“That’s because you’re my princess.” He says, softly pecking your lips.

“I thought I was your doll.” You say with a playful pout.

“You are. You’re my princess doll.” He says, smiling down at you.

You giggled and stood on your tippy toes to kiss him.

“Can we cuddle and watch movies while we eat what you bought?” You asked.

“Of course we can, babydoll.” He says, kissing you once more.

You and Bucky got the snacks and went back to the living room to watch movies. When you’re on your period and when you’re not, Bucky always treats you like a princess.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[aizawas-dryeye]

➭i know (you love me) (toji fushiguro)^^

content: dark content (dubcon, cheating, baby trapping/forced pregnancy), reader has a vagina but no pronouns mentioned, painful sex, blood, doggy, mating press, like One butt stuff, petnames (baby, doll/dolly)

words: 3.4k

kofi

!!MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

a couple days of no sex so you can heal turns Toji into a needy, cheating slut

• • •

"Are you actually fucking serious?"

Toji doesn't even jump at your fiery tone, just looks up at you— seemingly bored— with his dick still buried in the bitch beneath him. She, on the other hand, reacts the same as any sane person would. Squeals and tries to yank the covers over her bare chest, her face paper white at being caught. Your eye twitches when she glances between you and Toji, supposedly putting the pieces together bit by bit. It's not necessarily her fault, you seriously doubt Toji told her about you, but you still wanna beat her fucking face in.

You walk over and shove Toji off of her and rip the covers back. The trashy tattoos on her hipbones make you grimace. "Get the fuck out," you say and she immediately scampers off the bed to gather her clothes, mumbling a slew of apologies that you don't really care to listen to.

"Really?" Toji grumbles, running a hand through his sweaty hair as his guest slams the front door shut hard enough to shake the apartment. He has the balls to be upset with you? Oh, you could fucking kill him right now. You rip the blankets— your blankets, on your bed— off him too, and point to the door.

"You can get out too," you hiss. "I can't do this shit anymore, so take your shit and get out!"

He protests, rolling his dark eyes as he calls you dramatic and crazy, all while you throw his clothes at him and yell at him to leave. He's really pulling out all the stops to try and get his way, but the blood rushing in your ears makes it impossible to hear him. You only snap out of your rage when he grips your wrist to keep you from throwing heavier shit at him.

"Fuckin' watch it," he snaps, dodging your free hand when you go to slap him before gripping it as well. You groan at him to distract from the tears that bubble up in your eyes. You shouldn't be crying, you should be used to this shit by now. Every single time, he swears he'll change and that he loves you, and every single time you stupidly believe him. You can't even defend yourself when your friends hound you for sticking around, because they're right.

"I fucking hate you," you bite out, attempting to jerk away from him, but his grip on your wrists tightens. You make the mistake of glancing down, and see his erection straining beneath the blanket that he haphazardly pulled back over his hips. Toji notices, and cracks a smile when you sniffle, turning your face away to save yourself the embarrassment. He's quick to grab your face in his massive hand, and force you to look right at him. Your pathetic little pout is exacerbated when he digs his fingers into your cheeks, tutting at your expression. Like an angry kitty.

"No you don't. 'S not my fault you put me on a sex ban, what did you expect? Whinin' about that sore pussy. Didn't wanna hurt ya, babe. Did you a favor, didn't I?" he croons, pulling his hand away to lick at the lingering tears on his fingers.

You'd laugh if you weren't so angry right now. A couple days without sex so your pussy can heal from how puffy and raw Toji fucks it is hardly a sex ban. He's just a slut.

Before you try to squirm away, Toji yanks you close so he can bury his face into your neck— where he knows you're weak— letting his breath tickle across your sweet spot.

"Fuck you! You never do anything for me," you fuss, trying to maintain the earlier bite you had, but Toji's scent filling your nose makes your head all foggy. You can even smell the remnants of that girl's perfume and it only makes you dizzier with anger. Makes you sink your nails into him, anywhere you can grab.

Kitty's got claws. Toji chuckles and pulls your wrists behind your back with ease. He turns you and bends you over the bed, curling his massive body over yours to bite at your ear.

"This you sayin' you wanna get hurt?" he taunts. "Want me to fuck this raw lil pussy till it bleeds?" He reaches down and stuffs his hand in your sweatpants to paw at your over sensitive clit. You try to squirm away but he puts his weight onto the forearm pinning your shoulders to the mattress. A shrill squeal leaves your lips when he sinks his teeth into the meaty juncture between your neck and shoulder.

"All you had to do was ask, and I woulda stopped fuckin' those pretty lil things ages ago. You think I was doin' that to hurt you? No, no, baby. I was lettin' you heal, yeah?" Toji's rich, gravelly voice has you melting beneath his touch as he stealthily slips your bottoms down so he can grind against your pretty panties.

"Y-you're lying," you sniffle. Your body jumps like it's been electrocuted when Toji presses his erection against your covered hole, intentionally soaking the pink panties so he can see just how wet you already are. Maybe taunt you about it, call you easy.

Your pussy is beyond sensitive still, and the feeling of him fucking his bulge into you as deep as the panties will let him, almost burns as the cotton aggravates your nerve endings. "Stoooooop," you whine, your voice shaky and laced with that resilient brat attitude. Toji needs to fuck that out of you quick.

He pulls away with a chuckle. Heat spreads across your face when you hear him lewdly running a tight fist up and down his shaft, making you sweat. Thankfully, the gush of air that hits your pussy when he tears your panties off cools your skin, but it doesn't stop the red hot blush from traveling to your ears.

"Y'givin' me mixed signals here, dolly," Toji groans. "First, yer cryin' over some cocksleeve stranger. Now yer cryin' at me to leave this pussy alone. You hate me that much, baby?"

You can hear how wide that cocky fucking grin is as he coos at you. He talks like he can distract you from the uncomfortable burn as he presses his thumb against your hole, growling at how tight and swollen you are.

You hiss when he roughly fucks his thumb into you. Your legs twitch like they want to give out on you, but Toji is faster. He releases his forearm from your shoulders and wraps his arm around your hips, keeping your ass nice and high so he can prep you. It's an almost relieving feeling when his thumb slips from your pussy, only to be replaced with two long fingers. You mewl in discomfort, but an intense wave of pleasure runs down your spine when he curls his fingers inside you, scrapes them right against that spot.

An embarrassingly loud squelching sound fills the bedroom as he scissors his fingers into you, stretching you out painfully. It only makes you whimper out louder, squeeze your eyes shut tighter, from not only the pain but the shame of it all.

"Shhh, shut up... S'talkin' to me," Toji says, hushing you all sweet while he defiles you. "Wanna hear what it has to say, baby... Yeah? Missed me? Mm, I can tell when you make those pretty sounds fer me." He talks to your pussy like it's a complete separate entity from you, and something about that is so deliciously degrading.

Toji keeps on filling you with his fingers until he's got three tucked deep inside your cunt, pumping them in and out. Although the friction borders on tortuous, the wetter you get, the more you forget about being sore. When he feels your pussy start to ease up around his fingers, he's quick to pull them out and push your face into the mattress so he can run his tip against your hot, plush lips. "Gonna help you forget, yeah dolly?" he mumbles before burying his cock as deep as it'll go, which isn't much at first.

"T-Toji! Toji, please— mmph!" Your voice is utterly wrecked, begging him for mercy as he just takes what he needs, all to make a fucking point. Your insides stretch around his cock, pushing deeper and deeper into your warmth like he wants to carve out a space just for him. A guttural sigh fills the room, making you shake and whimper— as if you could do anything else.

Toji's free hand presses against your spine cruelly, forcing you into a painful arch so he can reach that one spot. The special spot tucked neatly in front of your cervix, almost like a little pocket he can push the tip of his dick in to keep himself planted deep inside you. When you feel that pop inside your guts, you keen like you're dying. The pressure of it has your pussy gushing down your thighs like a fucking defense mechanism. It's almost as if your body goes into shock when he slides in. To be fair, you do that every time, but it's not often he essentially knots you like this.

Toji stills his hips, gracing you with a few minutes to adjust. To let the anger subside into mindless want, like it always does when this happens. And the same thing will happen again in the future, and you'll let it, because he has you wrapped completely around his finger. Everything about him makes you weak in the knees, you can't help but perk up like a puppy whenever he gives you attention— good or bad— and he makes sure to use that against you. Keeps you nice and honest, right at his feet.

After an all-too-short pause, Toji sets a rough pace to reduce you to a compliant little mess, nodding along with whatever he says as he fucks you harshly into the mattress.

"That's right, baby. You jus' needed some dick to help you think straight. I'm still yers, right? She meant nothin', dolly. None of 'em did," he purrs against your ear, all husky and low. His hand scrambles to your lower stomach and he presses against your womb. "Y'feel me right here? Deeeep in these fuckin' guts, hah..."

He cants his hips forward, pushes impossibly deeper, and you yelp when his full balls slap your clit. The broken groan you let out is motivation enough for Toji to keep it up, ramming his cock into your cervix like he wants to fuck it.

"T—oji! T-T... oh fuck, fuck! Too much! T-too deep!" you squeak, flailing uselessly beneath your boyfriend. Ex? Fuck it, whatever he is doesn't change the fact that he's the best dick you've ever had. The way he's not afraid to use it, the way you can feel it in the back of your throat when he fucks you. Everything about it— about him— is addicting in the most carnal way.

Your pained little moans turn to annoyed grumbles of protest when Toji yanks your hips up and spits right on your exposed asshole, using his thumb to get it nice and slick before slipping it inside. One of your hands shoots back to bat him away but he quickly pins your arm to your back.

"Too much? Already baby?" Toji coos, curling his body down to growl right in your ear. The sound of his voice drowns out the loud slapping of skin on skin while he drives you into the mattress with deep, powerful thrusts. "No no no... I'll say when it's too much. And it won't be enough until I fuck my cum so deep in this pussy I breed it."

The timbre of his voice shakes you to the core, makes your pussy clench pathetically on his cock in a way that makes him laugh. He presses his thumb deeper in your ass and hooks it so he can feel the outline of his dick through the thin wall of flesh.

"No!" you squeak, the strain in your voice makes your cunt tighten, like all the air in your lungs was squeezed out. "C-can't cum inside— aah! Toji! Y-you fucking a-assho—!"

He's fucking brutal, slows his thrusts to a deep, pounding rhythm and cackles when you sob out, pretty face all covered in tears and snot. Toji can't tell if you're scared or desperate at this point, almost positive he's fucked you stupid. He leans over your body, steadies himself with his free hand and pants right against your ear. "Yeah, yeah, baby lemme hear it. I'm the worst, huh? Gonna make a terrible daddy," he growls. His cock twitches against your womb like a lingering threat.

In some ways, you'd seen this coming a mile away. Toji wasn't exactly a good man, after all. You feel him press his first two fingers into your asshole, his thrusts only quickening like he was intent on bruising that special little spot so you feel him agonizingly for weeks after.

"T-To— oh! Tojii! C-can't, nnno— OW!"

Sharp teeth bite at your neck, hard enough to break skin, no doubt. At least leave a bruise or two. While the pain is nearly sobering, the sharp throbbing of it makes your pussy clench tighter, a fact you try to hide by fighting under him again, trapped by his hands, his cock, his teeth.

Feisty bitch, Toji thinks, breathing out grunts more akin to feral growling when he lets his body take control, chasing his release like it's the only thing keeping him alive. His hands fly to your hips to hold you still while pound you into the mattress, forcing out a wail. Creamy slick coats your thighs and Toji's balls as your body succumbs to the pleasure running through your stomach. Your whimpering moans are the only thing Toji can hear, like his head is stuffed with cotton that gets denser as he gets closer.

"Oh-ho, shit doll. Fuck! Fffuck yeah, s-stay— stay fuckin' still."

Toji hardly registers that he's speaking— babbling— to you as he pushes just a little harder, needing moremoremore. His hips slam flat against your ass and you groan so hard you gag. You try so hard to pull away from the bruising force, but Toji snatches your hips flush against his giving you an ounce of reprieve, even if you're stuffed full. When the cock inside you throbs, you're almost giddy to realize it's a reprieve for Toji too. Before a stupid grin can slide across your face, Toji pulls out (much to your pleasure or dismay), only to flip you on your back.

"S'only appropriate that I fuck you like this, right?" he grins, rough hands pinning your knees to your chest in a mean little mating press, before mounting you again. You can feel him impossibly deeper like this, his cock able to reach each and every sweet spot your pussy has until you're gushing around him. Getting his thighs, and his stomach, and the fucking bed soaked.

You can't fight back like this, much less speak, so you sink your nails into his massive shoulders and let the onslaught of pleasure claw its way through your body. Ever perceptive, Toji gives you a wide grin, looking almost crazed. His cock throbs again.

"That's right, baby— fuck. Tha's fuckin' right," he gasps, pounding you with his entire body weight. It hardly feels like he's pulling his cock back at all, just fucking the tip right against your cervix. He slams a hand against the headboard and the wood creaks as it splinters under the force.

"Fuck! Fuckin' pussy's gonna make me lo-se my mind... Yer right there too, yeah?"

You swear you feel Toji falter, his breath catching in the back of his throat like a whine. What you don't know is, Toji took a glance down and had to sink his teeth in his tongue to keep from blowing his load right then and there. A thin layer of blood coats his cock, mixes with the creamy juices leaking from your pussy to make a sticky, pink ring around his base. Bleeding just for him, how sweet.

He can't help but shove a hand between your thighs to pinch at your clit, like it's your fault he's so fucking close already. Then, you're being crushed when he lets his weight falls to his hands, pinning your knees painfully so he can get real close to your ear. Your neck.

A snarl sends shivers down your spine, only to be chased with red hot blood as he sinks his canines into the skin just below your ear. Your entire body flushes to an almost uncomfortable degree, but the sensation is very quickly overshadowed by Toji's pelvis bumping against your clit. His happy trail is abrasive, but at this point your brain can hardly tell the difference between pain and pleasure. You can't even moan anymore. You honestly can't do anything but choke and whine like a little mouse caught in a trap.

"Fff-uck," you wheeze out, trying to get Toji's attention, to plead with him. For what, you're not entirely sure. "T-To— fuck please! Pleasepleaseplease, gonna c—"

"Oh yeah? I know you are, dolly. Can feel you clampin' down on me like that. God, shit! Fuckin' cock slut," Toji growls, moving to leave stinging bites against your right ear before moving to the left. "Can't help but cum at the thought of me breedin' this pussy, huh?"

Just as your cunt tightens, he shoves two thick fingers between your lips just to feel you gag through your ruthless orgasm. The way your entire body seizes beneath him, the way your hole constricts like a vice around his dick does him in. Toji hisses and grunts through his teeth as he fills up your little womb, enough to surely get the job done. And even if it doesn't work, he's always been a persistent person. If at first you don't succeed, and all that.

The sound you make when he puts his crushing body weight on you is somewhere between a broken squeak and a groan. His skin is uncomfortably sweaty against yours and you wiggle in annoyance to try and give him a fucking hint.

"Give me a minute, brat," he grunts, shamelessly nuzzling into your bare chest. His balls haven't even stopped throbbing yet, have some patience. Slowly, his heart stops pounding against your shoulder blade and his panting calms to steady breathing. It puffs against your ear in a way that once soothed you, now it blows straight through you like a husk.

There's brief relief when he finally pulls his weight from you, softening cock slipping from your stinging hole, only to be replaced by disgust when you feel his cum leaks out onto the sheets. You don't move as the mattress shifts— or maybe you can't. Toji pushes himself up with a groan and pads off to the bathroom. It's oddly sobering as you lay there, face towards the ceiling and a puddle of cum seeping uncomfortably into your skin as you listen to Toji piss and clean himself up. A part of you, the largest part, is disgusted at how pathetic you are. Another, shakes with the anticipation of him coming back to cuddle. Maybe even clean you up.

You curl over and swiftly shut your eyes when he comes back into the room, hoping to convince him you're asleep. He plops onto the bed with an obnoxious sigh  and throws an arm over you, clumsily shoving his hand between your thighs as if to inspect his work. He tsks.

"Yer wasting it," he gravels, shoving a cum soaked finger past your puffy lips. You squeal and he snickers, pulling away from you to settle into bed. "Knew you weren't asleep."

"Was trying to ignore you."

"Hardly ignoring me if yer puttin' that sloppy pussy on display."

"Go fuck yourself."

He snorts at you and buries his head deep against the pillows, unsurprisingly leaving you to your own devices. After a minute— or thirty— you peel yourself up from the bed and into the bathroom to run a shower. You take in the sight of you in the big mirror as it slowly fogs up. Eye bags, flushed, sweaty face, tears and drool coating your skin. You look down at your cum covered thighs and feel a lump form in the back of your throat.

Here we fucking go again.

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „ CHALKBOARD AND NAILS

tw. noncon, yandere, dumbification, objectification, daddy kink, some degradation, some praise, threats, brief mention of murder and blood, hair pulling, forced oral wordcount. 4.5k

a/n. ♡ commissioned by the amazing @totalleelee ♡♡♡ here you are my loVE!!! happy late birthday to your friend as well, and I really hope you guys enjoy it! I always like getting to write new characters and Nanami was definitely a fun one. I had to make the fic longer bc I wanted moreEeeeee but yea i just really really hope you enjoy it, and thank you again a miLLIOn for commIng me iM so sO HONOUREDDD

nanami kento x fem!reader

You should think about what you’re doing. Lying upside down off the couch with your eyes big and long, distracting lashes and your hair hanging; casting playful shadows on the floor when you move. His couch. He’d like to believe you’re doing it on purpose -hell, most people would probably be inclined to- when you’ve got that coy, little smile on your face and your shirt rides up to reveal a sliver of skin above your pants.

He would assume if you had ever dared to come onto him in any way. But you haven’t, and so he can’t, not when you remain the perfectly sweet, kind, respectful graduate they hired only a few years ago— and it makes him too aware of you.

Nanami’s not the prim and proper bootlicker Gojo jokes he looks like; so among the other sorcerers, it isn’t even too illogical that you would cling to him a little. A kouhai dumped on his doorstep when the higher-ups decided to employ them fresh out of school. If it were anyone else, he would’ve complained until the choice was overruled. But you’re not anyone else. He can’t even lie about the fact that he’s grown quite the attachment to you.

Your bubbly, engaged energy and blueberry scented shampoo and cheap coffee in styrofoam cups that you always, always forget to throw away at the end of the day. Your chattering that rings through his brain before he goes to sleep and the way you talk and talk and talk when he won’t. You’re the exact opposite of an enigma, because that would require that you left him with some mysteries, and you don’t have the ability to keep your mouth shut. He hates how easy you wind him around your little finger, and he hates that he hates it.

Nanami’s not a dependant guy- and it seems to be your goal to prove him so fucking wrong.

“Why wouldn’t that be possible? I mean, it’d be hard if suddenly a curse shows up and you’re called up in the middle of the night and have to rush to work, and our rates of serious injury are pretty high. But I think I could make it work! Y’know, communication is key and all that.” Your pretty lips shine as you ramble on. You prop your head onto one arm, and turn over so your leg is basically straddling his furniture. “Have you ever dated a non-sorcerer while you’ve been a grade one, Nanamin?”

He lets out a slow exhale, and shifts his gaze back from the lines of your throat to his book so you don’t catch him looking. “No.”

“Not once? In like twelve years?” You raise a brow like you’ve suddenly discovered he’s some ancient fossil dug up from the canal.

“I prefer not to leave my partners for weeks on end with no explanation because the sorcerer world forbids it— so no. And I didn’t graduate twelve years ago, brat.” With the spine of the book he taps your nose, before getting up from the chair to join you on the couch. The few drinks have been abandoned as you finally let the blood back out of your head and wobble like a deer, blinking too slowly. Even now, you’re pretty. Prettier than he wants you to be, taking in the soft slope of your nose and the pillowy lips and your stupid flush on your face. Brat is right.

“I think I’ll do it,” you declare after a few seconds, and rest your head back into the couch with a pout. “I get lonely. And most sorcerers have giant egos.” He’s not sure if it takes him aback -can’t place the emotion that washes over him a few inches at a time- but he finds himself watching the side of your face a little too tightly. The cogs turn in his head and send some uncomfortable cold to gather in the pit of his stomach. Your lashes flutter and some wetness lines your waterline, and he can tell that you mean it. It isn’t the alcohol, he knows you better than enough.

When you look up at him, your faces are only a few inches apart— soft breaths filling the narrow space between. Has he ever told you he loves you? He’s not a man of too many words, that’s always been more your style than his— so probably not. But he does. So much it carves a gaping hole in his chest upon impact. He doesn’t have to say anything to see the way your eyes flutter shyly with the near perfect closeness. As your silence hangs as the room disappears, his hand twitching on his thigh. Aren’t you partly his like he’s yours? That’s how it should work. It’s the only logical course of action, and so he can’t help but lean in.

You’re just too shy to say anything- right? You wouldn’t hang out with him so much if you didn’t, wouldn’t trust and touch him, or confide in him so much if you didn’t. His heart burns in his chest the closer you seem to get. But before he can finish up the gap, you giggle and back away. “Wow! Hey, we almost kissed.” Your voice is a higher pitch than normal, but still rambly. Fuck. “I didn’t expect you to be so close when I looked up,” your nose and cheeks are burning hot, “you scared me, Nanamin~”

You stand from the couch instead, and lean towards him with that little smile that drives him crazy at night. “Senpai, it’s clearly time for me to go home. I’m getting sloppy.” You are. And as much as he wants to use that as an excuse to grab you by your waist and pull you into his lap, it wouldn’t do any good. Not when you’re too busy running your mouth to understand the consequences. He loves you, but you’re one infuriating little runt. You run your hand through his hair like it’s an intrusive thought, spilling loose locks onto his forehead, and then you smack your lips. “Will you see me to the door at least?”

For not the first time, he blames your loose lips for making it so hard for him.

+

You’re entirely different outside the four walls of his apartment.

It’s a coincidence that he finds himself across the street as he spots you walking under the streetlights with a little jump in your step. You look a different sort of formidable— clinging to the arm of some plain fucking loser that is so very clearly drooling all over you. It’s almost pathetic how easily swayed the guy is, as you bat your lashes and smile at him. And somewhere in the back of his mind, it rings a little familiar, but common sense and logic get pushed down a little under the feeling of anger that he feels bubbling up in him.

Not at you— though he told you he didn’t think it a good idea, you’ve always been a bit dense. In need of protection. It isn’t an option, and Nanami’s responsible for you. He looks out for you. This fucking loser though, is oblivious about anything but the skin your dress is showing off. In the brief few moments he gets to spot you walking off towards your street, that much becomes clear. You love making it hard for him. You’re basically magnetic, dragging him along from whatever chore he was doing to follow behind patiently, getting more and more agitated.

See, Nanami has thought quite often about what he is, and isn’t. You forced him to think it over whenever he found his mind wandering back to you each time it had the chance, squeezing around his cock and whining out your dramatics into his mouth. In his imagination, he’s easy to wrap up into a neat bow. With a begrudgingly growing interest each time you landed on his couch, or trailed behind him like a puppy at work. It’s because of all that introspection that he decided he isn’t a good do-er. He does good, and he is perfectly adequate at doing it too. But he doesn’t do it for the praise of it.

Nanami isn’t a hero. He isn’t a vigilante.

He’s a simple guy with simple wants: you. So there’s only one reason that crystalizes in his mind as he finds himself walking a good distance behind this fucking loser that you’re blinking stars up at. It isn’t a noble one. Just that every fiber in him aches to grab the guy by the back of his neck and kick his head like a soccer ball. You wouldn’t like that much, but he still wants to do it.

You’re beaming and chattering along like you do at such a pace that you don’t even notice that he’s started to follow behind. Hell, you barely even acknowledge a passerby to move out of the way. You’re totally zoned in to your doe-eyed, little fantasies— even as the distance gets closer and closer, and he’s walking down the now familiar streets towards your apartment. And as much as he wants to blame you, he can't. Not really. It’s not like he didn’t know what a sweet little cheerleader you were when you were prancing around his office with the shortest skirts known to man and a coquettish blink of your long lashes. But it’s different when it’s some two-bit, middle aged non-sorcerer with a five o’clock shadow.

It’s different when it isn’t him. Even you must know that. You must feel it.

The sky’s darkening as your conversation goes from enthusiastic to clearly flirty, letting your giggle ring out down the lane— as he makes up the last bit of distance. The guy’s probably musty breath reaching you as he swings his arm over your shoulder, as he pulls you close. As he fills your head with all kinds of promises that he definitely won’t actually meet as soon as he gets your pretty hands around his cock. He knows it, and he knows that even your innocent, sweet personality would take a hit if that happened. You wouldn’t be able to perform well at work, and maybe even your relationship with Nanami would suffer if you got your heart broken.

There’s a very clear path before him that ends right where you’re walking up the steps towards your door, and those pretty lips form words he can’t focus on. He walks up to the door, and only now do you glance behind you and your pretty eyes go curiously wide at him. “Nanami?” You’re so fucking cute. But that stupid fucking arm around your shoulders is in his way. It blocks you from view, and ruins the sight. It’s a bother. There’s only the faintest hints of  jealousy and rage left in his veins - when he gives you a quick nod, then turns towards the guy who’s now got an awfully dumb expression on his face. It reminds him a little of a curse, blank and narrowed and disturbed. He feels eerily calm, really. It’s a simple problem with a simple solution, isn’t it.

“What are you doing here-” you start to say, before you stumble back.

Blood splatters all over, and with an awfully easy motion that stupid head rolls and drops to the floor. It’s quick, and there’s a few seconds where he waits for the resistance. The uncomfortable feeling of guilt. But it doesn’t come—

Until your shaky hand clutches almost painfully onto his shirt, pinching him. “H- Nanamin. What the hell do you think you’re doing? What did you-” You gasp, breaking off into a choked cry when your eyes take in the sight before you, before squeezing your eyes shut entirely and starting to shake harder. “What’s- why?! What did you do? Why did you do that?! I can’t- I can’t even- what- why?!”

You shove him aside, and his foot lands in the mess as you fumble sticking the key into the lock— too shaky to control your own extremities well. But your mouth still hasn’t stopped running. “Stay away! Go away! You’re- I- hick- I don’t wanna look!” You finally manage to get the key turned by the time the tears are making your cheeks entirely shiny, snot running and lip wobbly like a five year old— and sink down into a crouch to start sobbing it out into your arm. “You just killed a-an-” You can’t even make it halfway through without breaking out into another squeak. “F-for no reason. I invited him here- seriously, what’s wrong with you?”

Your face doesn’t come up again for breath until he grabs you by the arm to help you up, and you shove at him again, almost yelling this time. “No, no, no no no! Leave me alone!” This little scene you’re making is gonna attract attention, you know. “Leave me alone, I want to go in!” Before the situation can get out of hand, he pushes your door open enough to toss you inside, and the body after you. There’s a muffled little whimper from you when it lands with a thump on your floor. But as soon as he closes the door, the surge of adrenaline calms.

He just has to explain it to you, give him a minute.

“I don’t wanna- I don’t-”

For some reason, the entire situation winded him, and his beating heart bangs loudly in his chest. He drops his weapon aside and kicks off his shoes, and goes to you— where you’re cocooned in your own arms, knees to your chest. “Hey, it’s-”

“Leave me alone!” you squeak, knocking his hands away from you, only briefly looking up. “Go. Hck- go away!” You’re crying so much that your eyes are red and your cheeks puffy. But he still grabs you by your arms and hauls you up into his chest, ignoring the way you make yourself dead weight. Brat. He wants to say it, but he’s pretty sure you wouldn’t be too happy to hear it at this very moment. It’s not like he blames you. He’s always tried to shield you from the more gruesome parts of the occupation as much as possible. Of course you’d be upset. “Nanamin~” you whine.

“Shhh, just calm down. It’s all good now.” His heart still beats so loud. Maybe he was angrier than he first imagined. He carries you -much to your dismay, if your sniveling cries are anything to go off- out of the hall and into your bedroom. Where it smells of perfume and girly body lotion, and so overwhelmingly like you it takes him aback a little. You’re still crying, and still talking- but he does his best to drown it out in favor of explaining. See, he’s always been such a sucker for you. Swallowing down the slight rasp in his voice, he allows you to drop back into your bed, and looks down at you. You’re still pretty even with your eyes clenched closed, and crying like a baby. “There, ‘s okay.”

He runs his thumb along your eyes, then settles down next to you on the plush mattress. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Listen-”

“How can I -hck- listen?!” You’re quick to turn your face away from him, and wrap your arms around yourself a bit tighter— probably unaware of the distracting way you push up your tits that way in that little implication of a dress. Really, Nanami swallows, you can obviously do much better than that loser that’s probably staining your carpet at the entrance. Your lip wobbles again, before you suck it into your mouth. “I don’t know what- or how- but that isn’t okay, Nanamin. I just-”

So again, he tries to get your attention, this time by grabbing your arm. “Just listen. I did it for you- if this was anyone else I wouldn’t have been so pressed.” It’s true. No one is a priority like you are. “I had to.”

“What are you talking about? How- is killing someone- oh god, there’s a dead guy in my house, Nanamin! I don’t k- what am I gonna do? Why would you-”

“I’m trying to tell you something.” His voice is lower and sharper this time, and your eyes finally shoot open to look at him. But it isn't that adoring little look you normally have, and somehow that pisses him off too. You really need to have everything spelled out for you, huh. He loves you though, really, he genuinely, genuinely does. As more than just an equal— if he could, he’d give you everything. He just doesn’t know how to say it, staring back at the wobbly tears on your face. “I love you,” is what ends up coming out, and then a breath.

And he’d say more if you weren’t such a talker.

Your face goes a little distant for a few seconds, before you shake your head. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I will tell you, if you just-”

“I can’t accept that, senpai! You can’t just go around and kill-”

“I was protecting you!”

“From what?!” Before you even give him a chance, a real one, you start righting yourself on the bed and run a hand under your nose. And you stare at him with such disbelief and broken trust that it makes him feel a little dizzy. He doesn’t know exactly how he imagined himself spilling his guts, but it wasn’t like this. “You need to leave. And I need to contact someone from the higher ups to- take care of- I don’t even know,” you sob, “I don’t know how any of this goes. That’s so messed up, Kento.” That’s the first time you’ve ever addressed him by his first name. Scolding him for a choice he made purely for you. He did this for you. “You need to-”

He can’t let the first time end this way.

“Stop talking.”

“Stop talking?” You echo back to him, and glare, also getting up off the bed and farther away from him— and he can’t help but follow. “What did you think was gonna happen? That I wasn’t going to say anything?” As he gets up with you, you walk back a step, and your eyes flick back and forth between him and the door a few times. But he chases, and you jump in surprise when your back meets the wall, effectively trapping you between the wall and him. “I- Nanami-”

“Kento.”

You barely blink as you take a sharp intake of air, and then hold your hands up to his chest to keep some space between you two. “Look- just- we can talk about this, but I can’t just ignore that there’s a dead body in my house, Kento.” He’s really sick of you talking. You’re lucky he loves your voice so much, because if it was anyone else, he wouldn’t stand for it. Whatever you see in his expression must have you worried, because that slight defiance that remains gets awfully feeble when he reaches for you this time. “You’re scaring me. Please, just- hck- just back up. Let me process this, and then we can talk.”

“No, all your talking just gets in the way.” Your eyes go wide and a wave of heat washes over your features, making you look even more attractive. If he can’t tell you, he’ll just show you. You’ve got it all fucking wrong. What he feels for you is true love. Before you can go on another mad ramble, he grabs you and drags you back to bed, as gently as he can while having his hand screwed tight around your wrist. He wouldn’t ever actually hurt you. As you land on the bed, he holds you down— watching as you open your mouth to talk. But you can’t, because he’s already shoved two fingers between your lips and feels the way your hot, wet tongue squirms as he pushes them down your throat. “There, that’s better.”

Still you’re trying to talk, it’s almost funny. You whine around his fingers and gag when you can’t, breathing his name into an uncomfortable moan that just turns him on. You try to pull your head away, but you can’t. “You’re a lot sweeter when you’re not running your mouth sometimes, baby.” He can’t help it, it just comes out. He likes you so much, and you just look so cute gagging on his fingers and grabbing his sleeve like you’re not sure whether or not to pull or push. Tears start welling up along your waterline when he runs his fingertips over your soft, pink tongue. And his cock twitches in his pants.

That’s the good part, see. Even with all this fighting, you two still get along so well. You make him a better man when he’s around you. At least, in theory. He’s not crazy, he knows that holding you down and making you choke on his fingers isn’t really the best course of action -but you left him no choice- and he’s better off finishing what he started. “If you shut up,” he draws his fingers out of your mouth to start unzipping his pants, “I’ll let you breathe. If you don’t, I’ll make sure you won’t want to talk again.” It’s all up to you, pretty girl. Simple cause and effect. You take one sharp breath as you try to get out from under his weight, but there’s really nowhere you can go.

So you do what you do best, and whine. “Nanami~” It’s a baby-ish little whimper that makes him name sound so fucking good. But still. He grabs your face to squish your cheeks, and stares down at you with such intensity that you keep your cries in.

“It’s Kento.” His voice is a low, soft rumble. He wonder if it gives away the way his body feels right now, standing above you while his cock strains against his pants. They’re getting too tight to be comfortable. “Or daddy- you like that better? Say it.” You shake your head into his grip -but your ears start glowing another color brighter, almost like he’s caught you in a lie. Of course you do. You and him are made to be together. You let out another little squeak before he lets go of you to start undoing his pants. 

That apparently seems to be too much, because suddenly you’re trying to get up as you speak. “No, no, I’m not-” You’re trapped when he forces you back down and now yanks your head back by your hair, making you cry again. “Ow, please senpai— I like you, I really do- but I can’t- I- hang on.” The heat crawls up his neck to his ears watching your eyes go big as the belt falls and his pants go down his thighs. You really do look good on your fucking knees.

“I told you to stop yapping, didn’t I?” He asks in return, and finishes sliding his boxers down, kicking them aside. Then he pulls your face towards his cock and watches as you whine. “Open up for daddy. There’s only one thing your mouth’s good for.” You’re so easy to hold in place, and it sends unimaginable gratification through his body when your little tongue comes out for him. You’re really such a brat, making everything so fucking hard for him. 

You open your mouth enough for him to start pushing inside at just the slightest yank of your hair, making you whine and whimper as you shuffle around between his legs. Your hands come to rest on his thighs, but that doesn’t hold him from sliding the hot head of his cock as far as he can into your mouth right away. You look amazing drooling all over his cock, choking when he starts to move with the most patient moves he can manage. It’s not easy to do much of anything except rock himself on your soft tongue and feel your whining go down his shaft and balls. “There, now you’re making yourself useful. That’s what you do best, hm, fucking brat?”

“Agh, fuck- that’s- such a soft little mouth.” You make him feel heavenly, and by the way you’re shifting down there on the floor -trying and failing to get the friction you want- you’re also feeling it. He can tell by the way you blink up at him so slow, swallowing around him and letting that pretty voice out in the cutest, little moans. Just for him. Only ever for him. “You’re so lucky you’re this fucking cute,” he ends up rasping out, before letting you finally pull back to breathe when you start jittering. “Say something smart again, brat.”

“Agh, daddy,” you sob, drool spilling down your chin, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” He can tell you are. Your big eyes glossy and cheeks hot, you try to get up from the floor, and he yanks you up to turn you over instead. Your little dress rides up too easily, giving the rest of the way when he shoves it up your back. It’s almost embarrassing to see how wet you are, lacy panties soaked all the way through and peeled too easily aside to reveal that needy pussy. And you don’t even deny it, just shiver when he runs his finger up and down your slicked up cunt. “Please.”

He’s such a sucker for you, fuck. It’s almost like you know it. “My little cock slut, look at that. You’re dripping down your thighs, brat.” He spits on your center once before lining up and sliding in, and watching as your little pussy stretches around his cock with some effort— as you let out a lewd, almost desperate whine. “Fuck.” And Nanami hoists himself over you to start fucking into you, hips meeting your ass as he bottoms out, as you open your legs further to let him in. Your back half hangs pathetically over the end of the bed as he fucks into your tight, hot -so fucking hot and wet and beaming- pussy and his balls clap against you. You feel so good it’s hard to hear anything over his own heartbeat hammering wildly against his ribs.

“Daddy feel good inside?”

“Mhm, agh-yea.”

You too, baby. Nothing in the world feels as good as letting your pussy swallow and suck him in deeper, like you’re trying to hold him in that impossibly hot, blissful clutch forever. He can’t even hear much of your whining and moaning and pitiful struggle, but you probably haven’t stopped. You don’t even have the energy to close your mouth, trying to push back to meet his thrusts more even as he bumps against the end of your pussy— and his one hand is squeezed around your neck. But you look pretty this way. You look useful.

“Tell me how much you like me.”“So~ much, so much, fuck. I’m gonna cum, Kento. Daddy.” Your mouth’s still running when he snakes his hand underneath you to start rubbing at your puffy clit, and feels the way his own body starts to tighten when your walls clench wildly around him. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum. I want you to cum too, want to feel it- I wanna have you deep inside me forever, ah, ah. Oh, you feel so good, fuck.” It’s almost ironic when he thinks about it. How much he likes you running your mouth like this, begging for more. It’s poetic.

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[eroselless]

───────────────────somebody else // 5

series summary: you just work in hospitality for McLaren and he’s their star driver. what happens when your paths cross and you find yourself questioning your feelings for each other? [3.3k]

[lando norris x reader]

masterlist | previously

warnings: angst, insecure reader, mentions of sex, cheesy situations, throwing up

note: idk if its because I'm almost on my period or if it was the dulcet voice of baby justin bieber singing that should be me that was serenading me but I definitely teared up a teeny writing a certain section of this lmao 

A new message comes in a few weeks later. 

Come over? 

Lando stares at the message for a long moment, debating. He knew what it meant. He knew what would happen if he went. His thumb hovers over the screen, mind racing. He’s been here before. The ache of loneliness gnaws at him, twisting in his chest. He swears he won’t go—he tells himself it’s a bad idea, that it won’t fix anything. But the emptiness, the frustration, the desperate need to feel something, anything, overwhelms him. The need to forget just for a moment, wins out.

He goes.

When he arrives at her apartment, it’s almost automatic. He knows how this will go—the small talk, the casual drinks, the inevitable drift toward her bed. He pretends it's you when he’s snapping his hips into hers. Pretending it’s your voice that calls out for him, begging him for more. When she kisses him, he tries to remember what you tasted like. Or how your skin felt under his fingertips when he grips the swells of her breasts. But even as he presses his body against hers, even as he moves with her, it’s not her he’s thinking about.

It’s you.

Every kiss, every touch, every sound—he pretends it’s you. His mind betrays him, replacing her with the memory of you. He imagines it’s your voice whispering his name, your body beneath his, your skin under his hands as he grips her. His eyes squeeze shut, hoping, just for a second, to recreate the way it felt to be with you.

He ignores her when she says his name. It doesn’t sound the same as when you said it, when it would roll so beautifully off your tongue. She’s crying his name over and over again, the same way she used to, the way that once sent heat rushing through him. Now, it falls flat, lacking the sweetness, the softness of when you had once said it. He aches for the way your name used to roll off his tongue, the way you fit perfectly with him in those fleeting moments after everything was over.

The two of them don’t move in sync the way the two of you had. Her body doesn’t react to him the way you did. She feels different around him, different on top of him and different when they lay in bed after the fact. Every time they lay in bed, breathless and silent, he finds himself staring at the ceiling. He tries to summon a memory from the back of his mind, what you had looked like in his bed the morning after the club. How you must’ve looked so at home in his bed, under his sheets with his arms wrapped around you. What your hair must’ve looked like sprawled on the pillow and how your perfume had clung to the shirt you picked out from his drawer.

But he can’t. All he could see was her—her blonde hair and blue eyes. Her voice, the slope of her nose and the valleys of her body. The wrong scent, the wrong touch. Everything about her was a stark reminder that she just wasn’t you. 

He returns to her week after week, race after race, he finds himself knocking on her door, using her to drown out the noise in his head. They fall into a rhythm, after every near-win, every frustration on the track, he lets himself fall into the same rhythm. It’s a chase for pleasure, a temporary distraction. He doesn’t know if she sees it for what it is—if she understands she’s just filling a void. She asks for more, sometimes, her eyes searching for him, and each time he brushes her off with some excuse.

“It’s not the right time,” he says. But the truth is, it’s never going to be the right time.

Eventually he relents a little, letting her come to support him at the paddock. She hangs around, filling the space you once occupied. She makes him laugh, talks with ease. She’s good at pretending everything’s fine, like this is more than it is. And for a second, as she follows him around, Lando wonders if this could’ve worked before—if, in another life, before you, this could have been enough.

But it’s not. Not anymore. Because no matter how hard he tries, no matter how many times he tells himself this is easier, she’ll never be you.

*:・゚✧*:・゚✧

The door clicks behind you, the familiar sound echoing through the quiet apartment. The weight of the day settles on your shoulders as you shrug off your bag, letting it drop unceremoniously by the door. University had been draining to say the least. The endless lectures, the ever growing piles of assignments and the impending looming of exams were beginning to take their toll.

You slump into the sofa, relaxing into the fabric cushions that seem to exhale as you sink further into them. The quiet hum of the city outside your window was the only thing keeping you company. Your eyes flicker to the blank television, mind wandering to place you had been avoiding–places it always seemed to go to when you stopped moving. 

Lando. 

You hated that his name came to mind so easily, hated how it lingered so eagerly at the forefront of your mind. It had been weeks since you had left, but any glimmer of hope that the memories of him would start to face fizzled out as you kept replaying images of him in your mind. They were clear as day, as if they had only happened yesterday. And you hated it. 

You had hoped the weeks away, the build up of assignments and the weight of school would lessen the ache in your heart. But it hadn’t. If anything, it felt much sharper now. 

You pick up your phone, scrolling mindlessly through instagram and twitter. Lando’s face appeared in many photos, your algorithm all things McLaren due to your inactivity. The latest race weekend photos appeared on your feed–with her. Magui, draped on his arm, both of them with wide smiles painted on their faces. 

She was everywhere now, more than before. They had been seen together often at the paddock, her face a constant reminder of what you’d walked away from. It wasn’t just that they were together again, though—it was how natural they looked. The easy way she leaned into him, the smiles that didn’t seem forced. She seemed to be slipping into his life effortlessly, the way you once had.

Your chest tightens at the sight of them and you toss your phone onto the coffee table with more force than necessary. You couldn’t avoid seeing him—he was still everywhere, whether in race highlights or popping up on your social media feed. The image of him with Magui haunted you more than you cared to admit. A bitter cocktail of jealousy, sadness, and regret swirled inside you. 

But you had made your choice. You left. You told yourself it was for the best—that things between you and Lando were getting too complicated, too messy. And now, all you could do was cope with the aftermath.

You pull out your laptop, getting comfortable at your desk, determined to lose yourself in your studies. Exams were coming up, and you had too much on your plate to let your mind wander down that path again. The click of your keyboard echoed in the silence as you tried to focus on the assignment in front of you. But it was hard—your thoughts kept drifting back, replaying the last time you saw Lando, how it felt to leave without saying goodbye.

Before you could sink deeper into your thoughts, the sound of your phone buzzing broke through the silence. A message from one of your friends lit up the screen.

Elara: We’re going out tonight. You need a break.

You could see them all leaning over the screen waiting for your response. You sigh, thumbs hovering over the keys. It was true—you’d been drowning in work lately, barely giving yourself a moment to breathe. Still, the thought of going out, of being around people, didn’t exactly sound appealing. You weren’t in the mood for it.

You grimace as another message pops in from Seraphina. No excuses, you need to relax before you die under a textbook. 

You roll your eyes but smile despite yourself. Your friends were relentless and you knew they wouldn’t take no for an answer. Maybe they were right–-maybe you did need a little break, even if it was for just one night. 

*:・゚✧*:・゚✧

The cool night air brushed against your skin as you, Elara, and Sera stepped out of the cab and into the neon-lit streets. The bass from the club’s speakers reached your ears long before you approached the door, reverberating off the walls and seeping into your bones. The line outside buzzed with energy—laughter, shouting, and the faint clicking of heels on the pavement. Some people were already sloshed, others teetered between tipsy and sober, but inside, you knew it would be a chaotic mix of both.

For once, the madness felt like an escape, and you welcomed it.

As you stepped into the club, the thick air hit you like a wall. The scent of spilled drinks, the faint musk of sweat, and the sugary sweetness of perfume mingled together as bodies swayed and pulsed to the beat of the music. Colored lights flashed around, creating wild patterns on the walls, strobing back and forth across the packed dance floor.

“Shots first!” Seraphine shouted, tugging you through the crowd. Her voice was nearly drowned out by the pounding bass, but the gleam in her eyes told you exactly what she was planning. “You need this!”

You hesitated, glancing at the brightly colored bottles lining the bar. “I don’t know if—”

“No arguments tonight,” Elara interrupted, nudging your shoulder playfully. “You’ve been working your ass off. It’s time to have some fun. Let go for once.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Fine, fine. But no promises I’ll keep up.”

“Oh, you will,” Seraphine grinned, already signaling the bartender. Three shots of tequila slid in front of you, gleaming under the club lights.

“To freedom!” Seraphine declared, raising her glass. The three of you clinked your glasses together, the sound lost in the hum of the crowd, before throwing the shot back.

The first shot burned like fire, but it was a good burn. The second went down smoother, the warmth spreading through your chest and limbs. By the third, the tension you’d been holding onto for weeks started to unravel. You could feel your mind start to slip away from thoughts of school, exams, and even Lando.

With each one, you feel a little lighter, the weight of the last few weeks slipping away. The buzz of alcohol begins to hum beneath your skin, making the lights seem brighter, the music louder. It's not long before your friends drag you out to the dancefloor, weaving through the  crowd until you’ve found a good spot.  

“Ready to dance?” Elara asked, already pulling you towards the dance floor.

The alcohol buzzed beneath your skin, making the lights seem brighter, the music louder. You followed your friends, weaving through the crowd until you found a good spot near the center of the dance floor.

The beat pulses through your veins, vibrating in time with your heart. You can feel the energy around you, people moving, dancing, grinding. You lose yourself in the music, letting it take over as you move against the bodies around you, your movements uninhibited and fluid.For the first time in weeks, you felt free. Completely, utterly free. The alcohol works its magic, and you dance without a care, completely weightless as you let hands wander, gripping your hips and pressing into you. You laugh with your friends, letting the music carry you away. 

The crowd pressed in close, bodies swaying in sync, and for a few hours, nothing else mattered. Your mind was blissfully blank. No thoughts of school, of assignments, of him. You were just in the moment, letting go, moving to the beat, hands sliding up and down your body as the music thrummed around you. It was intoxicating, the feeling of freedom and release. Elara joins you, while Sera finds a guy to pull close. The alcohol surges through you, the pulse of the music slowly and fleeting feeling of the alcohol grounding you. 

The energy in the room shifts. You notice it first in the way the crowd suddenly becomes animated, an uproar of excited chatter speaking through the crown like wildfire. The lights dim and a wave of anticipation washes over the dance floor. You spin around, trying to find the source, only to find yourself freezing in your tracks. 

Even under the low, flashing lights, you’d recognize his silhouette anywhere. He’s standing at the DJ booth, bouncing slightly to the music, his arms out in front of him as he adjusts the controls. His backwards hat and the white T-shirt he’s wearing glow faintly under the blacklight, making him stand out even more against the dark backdrop of the club.

Your heart sinks.

The beat of the music intensifies, building toward a crescendo as Lando moves with the rhythm, a wide smile stretching across his face. He’s in his element, commanding the energy of the room as the beat drops, sending the crowd into a frenzy. The strobe lights pulse in sync with the bass, and for a split second, the lights stop strobing, a spotlight grazing over the crowd until it lands on you.

His eyes find yours.

You freeze, your breath catching in your throat as you stand there, the lights swirling around you. For a moment, it feels like time slows. Your hair is styled the same way it was the night this all had begun and you’re suddenly hyper-aware of the way the dress clings to your frame, of how exposed you feel standing in the middle of the dance floor while he watches. His eyes twinkle with the same sparkles they had when you’d seen him the very first time.

The room around you blurs into nothing. It’s just you and him. It was the universe playing a cruel joke on you, the way he was staring up at you from above only reminded him of how you two had been the last time you were both under flashing lights. 

The noise comes crashing back in, along with reality. The pit of your stomach now feels hollow as you turn away. Seraphine and Elara remain laughing beside you, completely unaware of the turmoil inside you, but you’re too shaken to care. 

The tequila isn’t enough to drown out the storm of emotions swirling inside you. “I need another drink,” you mutter, as you wander back to the bar, Sera and Elara in tow, and order another round of shots. It’s too much—seeing him here, so carefree, so alive, and you just want the dull ache in your chest to stop.

“Maybe you should slow down,”Elara suggests, eyeing you as the bartender slides the drinks your way.

“It’s ok,” you reply, ignoring her and downing the shot without hesitation. You feel it burn its way down, numbing the edges of your thoughts. But it doesn’t help. Nothing seems to help.

The drinks keep flowing, two, three, four more shots. As you reach for a fifth, Sera’s fingers grip gently around the glass, pulling it from your grasp. “That’s enough, babe. No more for you.” she says. You nodded, barely processing her words, as she drags you back to the dance floor. You move again, trying to lose yourself in the music. 

You keep dancing, keep moving. If you stayed still for another moment, the thought of him would come back. But no matter how much you moved, his presence lingered. He was still there, lingering at the edges of your awareness.But it wasn’t working. 

The club, the freedom, the buzz–it was all fading and fast, you felt sick. 

You moved back slightly, nearly losing your balance. You stumble, the floor seemingly shifting under you–your fingers brushing against something solid. 

Lando.

 He held onto your biceps, hands holding you up as you felt the nerves in your tummy try to take your knees out. His eyes were filled with a strange mix of emotions as they met yours. 

It was awkward, heavy. You both opened your mouths, as if to say something, but the words were stuck in your throat.

"I... I’m sorry for how things ended," you finally blurted out, the alcohol making your voice slur slightly. "I didn’t mean to—"

You try to explain yourself, the alcohol still in your system allowing the words to flow out effortlessly. But before you can get too far, you can see someone approaching the two of you. 

Magui.

She appears by his side, her arms snaking possessively around his waist. She eyes his hands as they slowly come off your arms, letting you go gently. “Hey” she greets you with a saccharine smile, her voice dripping with condescension as she glances you over. You felt like a bug under the stare. You were probably sweaty, eyes bloodshot and makeup slightly smudged with sweat. She stood perfectly manicured, like a Barbie, by Lando’s side. It made sense, the way you saw it, they seemed perfect for each other. 

Before you can respond, she pulls Lando in for a kiss–a long, sloppy kiss that makes your stomach turn. You can’t look away, frozen in place as the sight of them rips through you like a knife. Her hands are pulling at his clothes, grasping at his jaw. His hand has instinctively gone to her waist, pushing her away ever so slightly, but you don’t notice that. The music suddenly feels too loud, the lights too bright, and all at once, everything comes crashing down.

She pulls away just in time for Lando to spot the tears pooling in your eyes. He can see it in your face, the way your heart is just crumbling in your chest. He’s never seen this side of you, not even in your attempts to distance yourself from him, never. It wasn’t a look he ever wanted to see again.

The knot in your stomach tightens and you feel it rising in your throat before you can stop it. The world spins as you lurch forward, expelling the contents of your stomach all over their shoes–Lando’s and Magui’s. 

The room erupts in gasps and murmurs and you stand there, mortified as Magui lets out a shriek. She moves back into Lando, shouting insults at you. Lando’s eyes are wide with shock, but you can’t bear to look at him any longer. Tears are now freely streaming down your face as Sera and Elara rush over. They grab you as the club’s security moves in. 

“We need to go,” Elara whispers urgently, her voice barely audible over the chaos.

You don’t protest. You let them drag you out, your mind spinning, your heart shattered. As you stumble out of the club, you can hear your name called out from the fading crowd. You cling onto Elara and Sera, squeezing your eyes shut as you feel another wave of nausea roll over you.

It all goes black from there. 

a/n: hey y'all this is a scheduled post, i've been so busy as of lately with school but i did my absolute best to get this out for you guys. I hope you guys liked it! as always, let me know what you guys think of it, i always love to see what you guys have to say!

tags: @bitchesbroknhearts @herexpertcollector @cabbyhabs @horseymchorse3 @bluebluesol @sltwins @sarx164 @f1fantasys @obxstiles @moonvr @spideylovin @rafeyybabyy @lipstickstateofmind