#because even if that's not the case your paranoia WILL make it be

[katyspersonal]

BPD lack of objects permanence regarding friends and associates is so ridiculous, and inconvenient for both sides. Like, you completely lose sleep once you pick up on subtle signs of something being wrong, and another person most likely will turn on you exactly because of this issue. It is just, like

- Hey, do you still like me?

- Of course I do, you know that?!

- Yes, but you said that two days ago, literally everything could have changed since then!

[thinkingnot]

hoodie needs a haircut 😔

but he also vowed to have it long to remake like 50 different hair styles (they just look really cool alright mans gotta try something new) and then buzz it off and keep the severed hair (like he has done multiple times before yes hoodie has 4 hair bags around the home no theyre not for sale)

[jonnywaistcoat]

What’s your opinion on the contrast between “silly” and “serious” spaces? Do you think people can have very serious interpretations about a genuine piece of media and also be goofy about it? I’m asking this particularly because I’ve seen people in the Magnus podcast fandoms fight about people “misinterpreting” characters you, Alex, and the many other authors have written. Are you okay with the blorbofication or do you really wish the media you’ve written would be “taken seriously” 100% of the time?

And follow up question, what do you think about the whole “it’s up to the reader (or in some cases, listener) to make their own conclusions and interpretations and that does not make them wrong”, versus the “it was written this way because the author intended it this way, and we should respect that” argument?

This is a question I've given a lot of thought over the years, to the point where I don't know how much I can respond without it becoming a literal essay. But I'll try.

My main principle for this stuff boils roughly down to: "The only incorrect way to respond to art is to try and police the responses of others." Art is an intensely subjective, personal thing, and I think a lot of online spaces that engage with media are somewhat antithetical to what is, to me, a key part of it, which is sitting alone with your response to a story, a character, a scene or an image and allowing yourself to explore it's effect on you. To feel your feelings and think about them in relation to the text.

Now, this is not to say that jokes and goofiness about a piece of art aren't fucking great. I love to watch The Thing and drink in the vibes or arctic desolation and paranoia, or think about the picture it paints of masculinity as a sublimely lonely thing where the most terrible threat is that of an imposed, alien intimacy. And that actually makes me laugh even more the jokey shitpost "Do you think the guys in The Thing ever explored each other's bodies? Yeah but watch out". Silly and serious don't have to be in opposition, and I often find the best jokes about a piece of media come from those who have really engaged with it.

And in terms of interpreting characters? Interpreting and responding to fictional characters is one of the key functions of stories. They're not real people, there is no objective truth to who they are or what they do or why they do it. They are artificial constructs and the life they are given is given by you, the reader/listener/viewer, etc. Your interpetation of them can't be wrong, because your interpretation of them is all that there is, they have no existence outside of that.

And obviously your interpretation will be different to other people's, because your brain, your life, your associations - the building blocks from which the voices you hear on a podcast become realised people in your mind - are entirely your own. Thus you cannot say anyone else's is wrong. You can say "That's not how it came across to me" or "I have a very different reading of that character", but that's it. I suppose if someone is fundamentally missing something (like saying "x character would never use violence" when x character strangles a man to death in chapter 4) you could say "I think that's a significant misreading of the text", but that's only to be reserved for if you have the evidence to back it up and are feeling really savage.

I think this is one of the things that saddens me a bit about some aspects of fandom culture - it has a tendency to police or standardise responses or interpretations, turning them from personal experiences to be explored into public takes to be argued over. It also has the occasional moralistic strain, and if there's one thing I wish I could carve in stone on every fan space it's that Your Responses to a Piece of Art Carry No Intrinsic Moral Weight.

As for authorial intention, that's a simpler one: who gives a shit? Even the author doesn't know their own intentions half the time. There is intentionality there, of course, but often it's a chaotic and shifting mix of theme and story and character which rarely sticks in the mind in the exact form it had during writing. If you ask me what my intention was in a scene from five years ago, I'll give you an answer, but it will be my own current interpretation of a half-remembered thing, altered and warped by my own changing relationship to the work and five years of consideration and change within myself. Or I might not remember at all and just have a guess. And I'm a best case scenario because I'm still alive. Thinking about a writers possible or stated intentions is interesting and can often lead to some compelling discussion or examination, but to try and hold it up as any sort of "truth" is, to my mind, deeply misguided.

Authorial statements can provide interesting context to a work, or suggest possible readings, but they have no actual transformative effect on the text. If an author says of a book that they always imagined y character being black, despite it never being mentioned in the text, that's interesting - what happens if we read that character as black? How does it change our responses to the that character actions and position? How does it affect the wider themes and story? It doesn't, however, actually make y character black because in the text itself their race remains nonspecific. The author lost the ability to make that change the moment it was published. It's not solely theirs anymore.

So yeah, that was a fuckin essay. In conclusion, serious and silly are both good, but serious does not mean yelling at other people about "misinterpretations", it means sitting with your personal explorations of a piece of art. All interpretations are valid unless they've legitimately missed a major part of the text (and even then they're still valid interpretations of whatever incomplete or odd version of the text exists inside that person's brain). Authorial intent is interesting to think about but ultimately unknowable, untrustworthy and certainly not a source of truth. Phew.

Oh, and blorbofication is fine, though it does to my mind sometimes pair with a certain shallowness to one's exploration of the work in question.

[mv1simp]

Haunted ♥️ Part 2 of 2

Alpha!Max Verstappen x Reader (Omegaverse AU)

READ PART ONE HERE

it’s where we go, it’s what we'll be (I know if i’m onto you, you must be onto me)

As Mercedes’ rookie female driver, you garner a lot of media attention, even more when you reveal you haven’t presented. You don’t care about true mates or presenting - all you wanted was the championship. You’d be a lot closer to it, if it wasn’t for the dominating Alpha Max Verstappen. But after your late presentation, you two realise there’s a lot more to your bond than competition.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, size kink, primal themes, dom!Max, Sub!Reader, enemies to lovers. WC: 10k

After the scandalous events of the rooftop, where you and the tall blond Alpha had ended up in an intoxicating kiss, you take your avoidance of Max to the next level. You remain glued to George, furtively glancing from side to side in case your cocky rival decides to appear and terrorise you off the track. Your teammate found your sudden paranoia rather amusing, tousling your curls and making you puff your cheeks up and pout. Max watches the scene unfold with narrowed eyes as he walked into the interview room, finally catching a glimpse of you for the first time in two weeks. He notices you're wearing your jacket fully zipped up despite the warm weather - probably because his hickeys still littered your neck, he thinks smugly. Although next time he’d have to leave some so high up you couldn’t hide them and your loser teammate knew exactly who you belonged to. The possessive though rises up within him before he could even process it, as his inner Alpha seethed at seeing another driver touch his Omega so familiarly. The cameras don't miss the steely glare the Dutch champion delivered to the British Mercedes driver. It gave commentators something to speculate about and ask if Verstappen was threatened by Russell ahead of today’s race in Zandvoort?

And their commentary got even more heated during Lap 31 as they watched the Redbull driver slow down his leading pace, clipping George’s Mercedes car in a sharp and aggressive movement. It sent the Brit spinning into the barricade, letting you take his place in P2 instead. Afterwards, George had found him in the Parc Femme, parked comfortably in P1, and demanded to know what the hell that had been for, mate. Max just coolly told him to keep his greedy hands off what didn’t belong to him. George looked at him, confused, but chose not to argue with the clearly pissed off and aggressive smoky scent Max was radiating.

The cameras ate it up, thinking Max was referring to how George had come dangerously close to taking the Dutchman’s home race trophy. But you knew better, side eyeing Max dubiously when you gingerly sat next to him for the post race interview. You focused on getting through the questions, ignoring how handsome he looked in his white fireproofs, all sweaty and muscly post race, his tousled blonde locks contrasting his intense blue eyes. His large arm lay draped across the back of the couch, and you swore you could feel the heat radiating to your back even through the sofa cushions.

Again, post interview, you hurriedly sprinted away without daring to look Max in the eye. Your self control was getting more fragile every night you spent away from him. You could tell what your body ached for, with every wet dream becoming more vivid, making you ache and drip all down your legs for a man that you hated. And it was this Alpha's name was on your lips when you couldn't take it anymore, choosing to relieve the tension with a buzzing vibrator, praying that it’d be enough to settle the desperate omega inside you. Spoiler alert - it wasn’t, judging by the way you’d had to grip the interview sofa with clenched fists to stop yourself from climbing onto the man next to you and guiding his lips back onto yours, then to your neck, then maybe your sensitive nipples-

You don’t get far with that particular train of dirty thought as you’re yanked into a passing RV motor home. You'd been so distracted you don’t realise you’ve walked into the Redbull plot - and ended up falling right into the home of the one driver you'd been trying to avoid. Because Max goddamn Verstappen is in front of you, your Alpha the slutty inner omega croons, telling you to enjoy the way his strong, tall frame has you caged against the now locked door. Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you immediately regret it as you get an burst of Max’s heady scent. Now carefully only taking shallow breaths, you demand he backs the hell off, because you aren’t interested in whatever games he wants to play, you don’t want him.

Really, prinses? the handsome Blonde huskily murmurs into your ear, making you tense when he bends down, inhaling your deliciously sweet scent. You nod furiously, adamantly protesting how truly, you didn’t need him for anything, you’re a strong capable Omega and the entire concept of this ridiculous fated mate bullshit is sexist and outdated-

He chuckles, voicing his agreement that you’re undoubtedly the strongest Omega he’s ever had the misfortune - or blessing, now - of meeting. A good match for the strongest Alpha here, hmm? He teases. But it’s too bad you didn’t need your Alpha for anything, he muses, because he was so ready to help his pretty little mate with anything she wanted, that she needed. Especially that ache in her virgin cunny that just doesn’t seem to go away no matter how many toys she uses?

You yelp, blushing, brown doe eyes wide as you look up at Max in shock. You're half mortified that he knew and half extremely turned on by his suggestion. You’re stammering out your questions, asking how the hell did he know about that, had he been doing some creepy possessive Alpha male stalking-

Max laughs, the genuinely happy sound sending butterflies swirling through you. The soft side to the competitive driver made you so crazy for him, for getting to have both sides whenever you wanted while the rest of the grid got his wrath. No, schat, he reassures with a teasing smile, there was no creepy stalking.

Then he explains how, leading upto the claiming, mates were often given visions when the other was thinking intensely about them - in an effort to help them find each other. And once the mating bond was complete, this two way channel became fully established between an Alpha and Omega. Like a constant shared stream of consciousness, he explained patiently, but able to be closed off when one wanted to, only leaving the most intense emotions to radiate down the bond rather than every thought. You pondered the information curiously, not having come across this in your desperate research after finding out you were Max’s mate. So, this means I could technically get inside your head during a race and figure out your race strategy?

Max grins at your adorable expression, reminding you that he, too, could be inside your mental walls during a race. As you pout cutely, cheeks puffed, he can’t resist the urge to gently press a kiss to your forehead. The sweet gesture makes you tense again, but this time it's because you’re about to cross the line you’d told yourself you were never going to do again. You couldn't resist your desire for your Alpha in this moment, not when you've spend night after night failing to ease your frustrations and he's right here. Standing on your tiptoes, you meet Max's soft lips with your own, eyelids fluttering as his skilled tongue sweeping against yours has sparks shooting down to your aching core. As he easily lifts you up, bringing you over to the sofa and sitting you down to straddle his lap, you remember a missing detail in his explanation. You didn’t say, you say with a blush when he pauses your steamy make out to toss his fireproof shirt off, noting how you’d cast a wandering gaze to his broad chest. Biting your lip, you continued- you didn’t say how you knew about me being a…virgin.

You look down, suddenly shy, missing the predatory glint in Max’s eye as he pulls you flush against him and devilishly purrs Oh, that? I could taste it on the slick you ruined my pants with last time, prinses. Saved yourself all for me, yeah?

Your surprised gasp is cut off by him deeply kissing you again, your hands now eagerly running along his thick, swollen shoulders and neck. Oh, the real thing was so much better than anything you could have dreamed up. You help Max undress you in between desperate kisses, an undertone of urgency to feel his large palms on your bare skin. You flush cutely under his hungry gaze as he pauses to admire the sight of you in his lap.

You're in a pretty baby pink lace set you’d had on underneath your Mercedes suit, and you let our a whine from the intensity of his darkening blue eyes. You nervously shifting your arms to cover yourself up but he doesn’t let you, keeping a strong grip on your wrists with one hand so he can enjoy the delicious view. Your Omega is going into overdrive now, and you’re desperately grinding on his thick thigh again, hoping he’ll resume running his hands along your waist or flex his thigh to help send you over the edge. But he doesn’t to any of that. Instead, he just leans back with a smug expression, enjoying the sight of you trying and failing to get yourself off on his lap.

Huffing in annoyance, you try to redirect his hands to your hips, indicating that you wanted him to take over and bounce you up and down his leg with that brutish strength of his, but he easily deflects, telling you he needed to hear the words, schatje.

Ugh, so goddamn arrogant - apparently finding out he was your mate did nothing to keep his ego in check. Make me cum, Verstappen - it’s just this once, you demand, making his eyes narrow at your bratty tone. He’d need to teach his Omega some manners, clearly. Resting his face against his propped up hand, he watches you with an almost bored look as he deepens his scent, making it even more headier and stronger. Now, you struggle to think clearly through the fuzziness you’re now feeling, overwhelmed with how sensitive you feel after inhaling him. You're dripping all over his muscled thigh as you throw your head back, whining, hoping to tempt him with your open neck. Again, Max looks uninterested by the show you’re putting on, drawling out a like I said, prinses, you’re going to have to ask me nicely.

You lose the game within seconds as you hand over the control to him on a silver platter, pleading for him to please, please help take the ache away, Max. He hides his pleased smirk behind the palm he’s leaning on, making you desperately whine for him a few more times before finally touching you.

So that’s how you find yourself spread out on his sofa, delicate bra ripped off you so he could climb on top of you to twist and lick your sensitive nipples, making you arch into his wicked mouth. He’s running his long fingers along your slit through your ruined panties, ever so gently, making you teary from how badly you need him to do more. The sight of you crying out of desperation for him turns Max on in ways he hadn’t realised were possible. He’s doing everything he can to hold himself back from ramming his hard cock into you right there, knowing you’d never forgive him for taking your precious virginity like this. So he tortures you in other ways, by kissing in between your breasts, licking at the bruises that have formed from his strong grip, and then continuing down, down, to your cute soft tummy and then-

Oh, Max! You moan his name sweetly, over and over again as he runs his large nose along your swollen folds, inhaling deeply and growling at the honey sweet, unclaimed scent that awaited him. Even then, he only pulls your soaked lacey panties to the side to leave antagonisingly shallow kitten licks.

You have no idea how he’s managing to keep his composure while you’re practically falling apart. And then he tells you that you’d been a very bad Omega, ignoring your Alpha for two weeks and then letting other horny Alphas put their dirty hands all over you. So if you wanted him to help you now you’d have to beg me for it, prinses.

You give in so easily, sultrily moaning your rival’s name as you beg Maxie, please kiss me down there, please, your tongue feels so good, I need it to cum-

Smirking at having ruined his mate, his rival like this, he stops his torture and buries his face between your thighs, eating you out like a starved man. You’re so loud, crying and begging for him as he thrusts his wicked tongue in and out your puffy folds that he has to slip his fingers into your open mouth for you to suckle on and keep quiet. As much as it drives him wild to hear your sweet moans, he’s mindful of the buzzing paddock just outside, and how anyone standing too close would only have to catch one whiff or hear one breathy moan to figure it out. He’d kill anyone who got to hear the precious sounds you were making - they're all for him, and him only. Fuck, he should have used something other than his fingers though, because now you’re eagerly sucking and drooling all over them and it’s sending lightning bolts to his already hard cock, as he imagines you sucking him there instead.

Ripping off your soaked panties, he meanly stuffs them into your open mouth, making your eyes widen but successfully muffling your moans. You don’t get to be annoyed by his filthy move, though, because he’s using his fingers to now fuck your tight pussy, hissing at how tight you were for him, prinses, you’re going to feel like heaven around his cock when he claims you.

You moan uncontrollably at the thought, fresh slick gushing out from your core and straight into his waiting mouth. You're pulling at his soft blonde locks, your teary doe eyes meeting his intense blue ones as he looks up at you, still flicking his talented tongue over your clit. You won’t ever ignore your Alpha again, hmm?

You nod frantically, breathlessly agreeing yes, yes Maxie, I promise I'll be good for you and he rewards your good behaviour with further kisses and licks along your slit, the filthy sounds of him messily eating you out filling the air. And then you're cumming, screaming his name as the most intense orgasm you've ever had overwhelms you, squirting your slick all over his lips and couch. Dropping your head back against the sofa, you struggle to stay awake as you come down from the bliss, taking deep gasps of air as Max had gently removed your makeshift gag.

After a few minutes, though, you dazedly realise that you can't close your legs because Max is holding them wide open across his shoulders, his large hands gripping your soft thighs. Lifting up slightly to look at him, you feel your face flush at the hunger in his icy blue gaze as he takes in how pretty you looked when coming undone for him. You can take another one for me, right schat? He croons, eyes never leaving yours as he smirks darkly and leans down, making sure you see him dragging his wide tongue through your puffy, overstimulated folds.

Your eyes widen again, because no, you did not think you could handle another mindblowing orgasm like that and walk out of the motorhome on two legs- Shhh, prinses, you promised to be good for me, remember? And he makes sure you stick true to your word by cumming again, desperately moaning his name, now completely ruined with the need for your Alpha.

You hadn't been able to avoid Max after that. What girl could, after having her pussy worshipped and eaten out like it was the best meal on the planet? Instead of your automatic scowl or snappy retort at him though, you now would go pink at the sight of him, at his captivating blue eyes, remembering how they'd been intensely fixed on yours as he kissed your most innocent areas. Or when you'd look at his veiny arms and thick hands, remembering how they'd held your shaking thighs open for him. No matter how many suppressant tablets you'd double up on, or deep breathing exercises you would do before entering the paddock, you couldn't keep your inner slutty Omega's desires at bay. Your team had noticed your odd behaviour too, with George sniffing the back of your neck briefly one day and commenting that you smelt different. You spun around, paranoid that your sweet Omega scent had started showing, but George had hummed thoughtfully and said you smelled deeper and warmer these days, like burnt amber. Maybe you’re going to have a second presentation as an Alpha? he joked, missing the panicked expression on your face when he inadvertently described your scent taking on Max’s whenever you two would see each other.

Meanwhile, Max’s behaviour towards you had started changing, not just behind the safety of closed doors but in public view as well. It started at the media conferences, where you two would often be next to each other as race winners. The FIA loved to stoke the flames of the Redbull-Mercedes rivalry by giving you an opportunity to argue with each other easily due to proximity. You’d both certainly fallen into the trap a few times, making news headlines and viral videos, but now Max’s aggression towards you had changed to something far more…you didn’t know how else to describe it, except for protective. Now the ones met with Max's hostility would be reporters anytime they directed sexist questions to you or implied that your driving wasn’t good enough for F1, that you were only here for representation.

You’d been very irritated at this particular theme of questioning that had starting occurring more frequently as you won more races. Distracted, you hadn’t even realised how involved your rival was getting in your affairs - until your publicist set her iPad in front of you to play the most recent viral interview. Even before she clicked play, the cover photo made your heart flutter. It was a side profile shot of you on the media couch, arms crossed and an obviously upset expression on your face as you looked on towards a rude journalist. Max sat next to you on the semi circular couch, facing the camera front on. The angle captured the way his large arm was slung across the back of the sofa to just graze your shoulder. At that time, you remember thinking his heat radiating through the cushions had felt soothing. His legs were spread apart in a show of casual dominance but the dark expression on his face clearly reflected how the journalist was going to be meeting the fangs of the Dutch Lion if he didn’t stop talking. And when your publicist pressed play, you saw how Max’s observant eyes flickered to your upset face when it was clear you’d grown sick of the tirade of frustrating questions, ones that you’d normally sassily retort to and earn laughs for, but were now getting overwhelmed with. And then he had intervened, smoothly cutting the next rude question off with a equally aggressive response, saying that really, shouldn't they be asking Max if he'd slept his way to P1 - given he actually won the race?

You'd thought for sure your publicist was suspicious there was something going on. But to your surprise she's beaming and telling you it was great PR to see the Mercedes princess get along with Redbull's Mad Max. Since it had gone so viral it wouldn't hurt for the two of you to get along and be photographed more, yes? You mutely nodded, still half bewildered that she hadn't snapped her fingers at you to say Aha! I knew it, you're his Omega! Perhaps you were getting a touch over paranoid.

So when Max had found you at the end of the day, asking if you wanted to come to dinner with him, you said yes, knowing that your PR manager would be internally giving you a thumbs up. Opening his car door for you, Max noted your glassy stare and tired expression from the race and constant pestering questions afterwards. He drove you to one of his favourite local places, a warmly lit Turkish eatery with falafel and barbecued meat. And it was discreet, too, no one looking your way which you were thankful for, given how casually dressed you were in a hoodie and jeans, too tired to dress up for any stray cameras. Max didn’t seem to mind your simple attire, of course, wearing a practically identical one. The restaurant had just the sort of comfort food you'd been craving and you moaned into your kebab, telling him thank god the Dutch had learnt to bring back food from places they'd tried to colonise.

He chuckled, giving you a warm smile that made you blush a bit from how handsome he looked. You avoided those intense blue eyes of his and tucked back into your kebab, changing the topic to ask him what his other favourite spots in the city were growing up. After paying, despite your protests to split, he offered to drop you back to your hotel. You'd had a lot more energy on the way back to take in your surroundings, noting how confidently Max manoeuvred the steering wheel with one hand as he talked, the other resting on the console. When he pulled up to your accomodation, ready to walk you in, you gently tell him not too. The media backlash would be bad towards you as a female driver if they saw you with a guy going into your hotel. Max scowled, the icy fire returning to his eyes as he was reminded of the sexist standards you'd been dealing with all day. You instinctively reached for his hand on the console, making his eyes flick towards where your small fingers grasped his much larger palm. Thank you, Max, you say genuinely, for dinner and also for helping out with the media stuff today. I can normally handle it, but today...you trail off, a frustrated look on your face. I know you can handle it, Max reassured firmly, his fingers intertwining in yours, but that doesn't mean you should always have to do it alone. Trust me, it gets old really quick. And on the days you're over it, I definitely don't mind telling all those assholes to fuck off.

You giggle at his words, telling him you know this is why they call you Mad Max, right? He watched you laugh with a pleased expression, his inner Alpha content at having taken care of his Omega. As you start to open your car door, once again turning down his offer to walk you in, you hesitate and glance back towards him. Then, quickly, almost as if you knew you would lose the courage to do it if you overthink it, you press a kiss to his cheek, letting your cloyingly sweet scent wash over him so he knows how satisfied you feel with him. And then you're sprinting out the car, hightailing it through your hotel doors with a single nervous glance backwards to Max, who watches you with suddenly dark eyes and a tight grip on the wheel.

The papparazzi don't catch wind of that night's dinner, but as Max and you start seeing each other more regularly under the guise of him taking you to his favourite restaurants, it’s only a matter of time. Pictures blow up online overnight of you two after a Spanish dinner back in Monaco, as Max caught onto your preference for spicy foods. You’re thankful that you’d chosen to dress up a bit that night, in a cute white summery minidress with tie up bow straps and matching heeled sandals. You’re admiring the shot of you, emerging first from the restaurant, thinking you actually looked pretty in the paparazzi shots for once. But your eyes widen at the second photo when you swipe next. Max emerges behind you, and his much larger and taller figure makes for a very protective figure at your back. In fact, he does look like he could be a bodyguard, with the comfortable hoodie he’s wearing that stretches across his broad shoulders and highlights his muscular build. The angle of the photo means only the back of Max’s blonde head is captured, and subsequent pictures continue keeping his face obscured but show him holding your Dior bag for you - having automatically put his hand out for it when you’d gone to the bathroom earlier while he paid. You can see why the flood of comments are asking who the Mercedes’ driver’s hot new bodyguard was?! He’s so well trained! and that this is the height difference every girl deserves!! Is she finally on a date?

You feel a bit flustered, a foreign sensation fluttering in your chest at seeing how natural you and Max look together. The viral dinner photos then turn into a full blown PR scandal the next day, where a fan leaks a picture of you two at dinner from another angle. You're smiling sweetly up at Max when he opens his car door for you, his large palm resting gently on your lower back. This one was a bit harder to explain, and you anxiously bite your lip as you scroll through the new comments, which say things like the mystery Blonde bodyguard last night was MAX VERSTAPPEN??? HER LITERAL RIVAL THROUGH THE WHOLE ROOKIE YEAR? and that this was so enemies to lovers coded!!

You don’t think this is what your PR manager meant when she said she wanted to see more positive interactions online of you with the Redbull driver. But to your surprise, she seems very pleased with the outcome. And she makes it clear to Toto and George, who both had reacted suspiciously to the pictures, asking why you were suddenly so friendly with the dickhead Alpha who’d tried to run you off the track not once but twice?

Their overprotective stances relax a little when your PR manager assures them that it was all good media and that you were acting under her orders. The Redbull team was in on it too, apparently, with both your and Max’s publicists seen giggling as they reposted various memes of the two of you being seen together. You promise Toto and George that Max has surprisingly been nothing but the perfect gentleman. But they still caution you not to let your guard down, because if Max found about about your closely guarded secret of being an Omega….

You laugh nervously, because really, the closely guarded secret was now the fact that the dominant Alpha they wanted to protect you from was actually your mate. But you hadn’t lied - Max had been acting like the perfect gentleman lately. You were surprised by how much you got along with the Dutchman these days, enjoying dinner conversations filled with your mutual interests and laughter at each other’s jokes. Racing, obviously, continued to be a hotly debated topic - but now it seemed to be less of an explosive argument and more like two good friends bickering. You told him this one night as he drove you home - that although it was obviously the right thing to do, you were still grateful that he hadn’t become the over territorial, controlling Alpha mate you’d been scared of. Actually, I - you blush a bit - I actually think this is kind of…nice. I feel like you always know what I’m thinking or feeling without me having to say it. But not in an intrusive way...It's more like knowing I always have someone who will understand?

Max grins at you as he responds warmly, reassuring that it was exactly the same for him, schat. Guess the biology of the mating system did pay off after millions of years evolving, huh? he gently teases, making you roll your brown doe eyes, but you're smiling. Turns out you spoke too soon about the Dutch Alpha, though.

Because the very next week, he pissed you off to no end, resulting in many heated arguments. It started with him pointedly glaring at one of the sponsors who approached you and asked if you’d accompany him to an upcoming gala. You said yes, of course, thinking it would be a good opportunity to source funding for your team - and your boss Toto agreed, pleased. As you got ready for the black tie evening in a hotel room upstairs from the gala in the ballroom, your stylist ducked out after getting a phone call. You assumed she’d returned a few minutes later when you hear the door open, and you called out that you’re In the bedroom, could you please have a hand zipping up the dress?

You’re standing in front of a floor length mirror, pressing your hands to your full chest to hold up the off shoulder beautiful silk evening gown you were wearing. Your doe eyes widen in surprise when it’s not your stylist, but a tall figure dressed impeccably in a well fitted suit that comes behind you in the mirror. Max!? you gasp, confused as you whirl around at his sudden appearance and ask him why he was here. He explained that he’d run into your stylist in the elevator, and she said she had some emergency or the other…asked me to come up and give you this. He holds up a velvet jewellery box, clearly containing the matching accessories for your outfit. Your stylist had mentioned earlier she’d loaned the perfect set of jewels to match the opulence of the gala.

Oh, you say, blushing a bit at the new development but declining when he notes your expression and offers to go hunt your stylist back down. No, that’s okay, I’m sorry to ask but would you mind…you trail off, feeling shy about asking him to zip you up. Despite how steamy things had gotten between the two of you before, this felt far more romantic and intimate. Max hmms, his deep voice rumbling through his broad chest, and gestured for you to turn around with an unreadable expression on his face.

You try to keep you eyes firmly on the ground, staring at the sparkly strappy heels you’re wearing, but you can’t stop your gaze from looking up when you feel Max’s large hands brush against your silk dress. You find his intense gaze is already on yours when you meet his blue eyes through the mirror. He slowly slides the zip up, and you swear you can feel static electricity crackle from how much tension is in the air. When he reaches the top, his fingers brush against your bare back, making you gasp as a jolt runs through you.

Sorry, he murmurs, eyes still locked in on yours through the mirror, but he doesn’t sound like he is in the slightest. His heated gaze then wanders over your smaller form, taking in your blushing face and soft curls that are pinned up, how your dress fell attractively off your shoulders, revealing your elegant neck and collarbones. His gaze lingers there for a long moment before it moves down to take in how your luscious curves are highlighted in the flattering, tight dress. You feel flustered by Max’s attention on you when you’re dressed like this, and quickly busy yourself in opening up the jewellery box - only to gasp at the diamond set that’s revealed.

Where on Earth did she find this? you saw in awe, entranced by the multiple sparkling diamonds that make up the choker-style necklace. You’d have to give your stylist a raise, because you’d never seen such a unique and lavish cut of jewellery in any store. Max shrugs, expression inscrutable as he watches you admire the jewellery you were going to wear tonight. When you struggle to clasp it together behind your neck, shyly looking up at him again in the mirror, you find him already watching you again. He offers his hand out to you for the necklace. May I?

If there was tension before, now it’s so thick that you would need a knife to cut through it. You watch Max’s massive, veiny hands brush across your collarbones as he loops the necklace around. You’re expecting his touch this time, but it doesn’t make it feel any less electric. Warmth spreads through you at seeing how small and delicate your neck looks with Max’s palm across it - a far more effective choker than the delicate jewellery he clasps, you think, unable to suppress the desire that’s swirling in you. Max’s lips are almost brushing your ear from how close he’s standing as he leans down, the high heels you’re wearing giving you a boost to meet the much taller Alpha. And he looks so handsome tonight, his dark suit accentuating his thick legs and swollen biceps, contrasting against his light features and gorgeous blue eyes. You can’t deny that the Dutch Lion is an incredibly attractive man, just your type.

All done, he whispers huskily in your ear, almost teasingly brushing his fingers along your bare collarbones and making you flinch before he pulls away, smirking lightly at your reaction. You look so beautiful, schat he murmurs lowly, the sight of you in the diamonds and silk positively angelic. You turn to face him, wanting to say thank you but the words become stuck in your throat as you see how dark his blue eyes are. Your lips are tantalisingly close, and for a second you’re both leaning in, breaths mingling-

When your stylist loudly re-enters the hotel room, full of apologies for her absence. You immediately move away from Max, avoiding his eyes, the moment broken and your heart racing as you let yourself be guided out the door. You avoid Max like the plague the rest of the evening, rattled by how overcome you’d been earlier, ready to kiss him not in a moment of your usual sexual frustration but rather out of genuine passion. You aren’t ready to admit that you’ve started to feel something deeper for the Alpha, terrified of what it would mean for the future. So you laugh and charm your way through many conversations with sponsors throughout the night, diligently staying by your date’s side, even when you can feel Max’s sharp eyes narrowing at your back and sending shivers through you. Your date is certainly taken with your dolled up appearance, complementing you endlessly. You notice early on he keeps glancing down repeatedly at the stunning choker you wore, like many of the partygoers who’d been admiring it. Assuming that maybe he’d been the one to loan out the set to your stylist for the night, you thanked him for it, but with a strained smile he tells you it wasn’t him. He excused himself, saying that you had his apologies, he wouldn’t have asked you to accompany him tonight if he’d known.

You have no idea why your date was suddenly acting strange and decide to get some air on the balcony, the refreshing night breeze blowing across your warm cheeks. You’re tracing the necklace, perplexed at why everyone seems enamoured with your choice of jewellery tonight. Sure, the diamonds were luxurious, but this was a charity gala in Monaco - surely the guests were used to such opulence?

You feel the hair stand up on the back your neck before Max joins your side, murmuring that you didn’t look like yourself with such a serious expression instead of your usual shit-eating grin. What, scared off your date already? You’re pulled out of your train of thought immediately, the earlier tension with him diffusing as you scowl at his teasing - but there’s no real anger. You end up talking to him for over an hour on the balcony, laughing and enjoying how easy conversations with him are compared to the more stifling, tedious ones you’d been having indoors. As you’d gone to bed that night, you found yourself feeling happily content with the recent development in your relationship with the Dutch Alpha.

But that all changed the next morning, when you woke up to a million notifications buzzing on your phone - the latest one being an ominous “Call me” from Toto. Confused, you start going through your social media, trying to make sense of what’s happening - and your doe eyes widen in shock when you realise just why everyone had been unable to stop looking at your neck last night. Because it turns out the stunning jewels you had been wearing weren’t just some loaned Tiffany’s set your stylist had picked up. No, they were none other than a custom-made, half a million Euro worth, piece of aristocratic jewellery that had been passed on from Omega to Omega in Max Verstappen’s family.

The media had gone ballistic. Headlines like Mercedes rookie driver looks dazzling in Verstappen family jewels and F1 champion Max Verstappen lays claim on his rival driver! fill every newspaper, magazine and gossip forum. And to make it even worse, there’s an undeniable chemistry in the accompanying photo someone had taken of you two on the balcony that night. You look the very picture of a mated couple with how close you stood, him leaning down to intently watch you talk animatedly about something. And those godforsaken diamonds glimmered around your bare neck for all the world to see, proof of his claim on you.

As if you would ever accept the title of being a Verstappen Omega after what had happened to Max’s mother in the very same career.

You’re so incredibly pissed that you’re seeing red for the next few hours, ready to go knocking at Max’s apartment and scream at him for setting you up like this. You had no idea why he’d done this, and with a start you realise the horrible emotion you’re feeling is betrayal, because you’d thought Max actually understood and respected your ambition to be a F1 driver. So instead, you block all his calls when he finally wakes up that morning and decide to see your boss, knowing it’s time to have a long overdue conversation.

Toto watches you silently as you stand before him in his Monaco office, taking a deep breath before confessing that you’d found out soon after your presentation that you had a true mate. Unfortunately, that mate just happened to be Max goddamn Verstappen, and you had no plans to proceed with any sort of relationship with him whatsoever, you tell Toto firmly. I admit my recent friendship with him made me lower my guard, but now- your voice trails off, the hurt clear in your voice, before it becomes resolutely firm again. But now it’s crystal clear that the only thing I should be focusing on is the championship.

Toto closed his eyes with a sigh, leaning forward and pinching his nose. He didn’t speak for a few minutes and you nervously shuffle, but you never anticipated what he said next. Because instead of firing you or yelling at you for hiding this, he said that there was no point running away from your true mate - even if it was an Alpha as distasteful as that brutish Redbull upstart, he says venomously. But despite his sour tone, your boss explains that you two had been lucky to find your true mate at such a young age - he’d had to wait till his second marriage before he found Susie, he reminds you.

You frown, not having expected your normally strictly professional boss to give you personal advice. You’re a great driver, Toto says, ruffling your hair. I admit, I am not a fan of your choice of boyfriend, but if you two have already known you were mates for months and your performance has been outstanding…I have no issues with it. You widen your eyes, immediately protesting and saying Verstappen is absolutely not my boyfriend-

Sure, sure your German boss says, rolling his eyes and showing you to the door. Just be thankful that all this media exposure about you two being a couple actually seems to be drawing the sponsors in instead of scaring them off, like we’d thought.

He cuts off your adamant refusal with a gentle push out his office door. See you at the practise track on Monday, da? Don’t come smelling like that Dutch dog. He closes the door in your bewildered face, muttering something about how kids these days will be the death of him.

Reassured that your job was still secure for now, you take a moment to recheck your phone which you’d been anxiously avoiding all morning. To your surprise, you found that Toto had been right - while there were obviously some negative and sexist articles about you sleeping your way into F1 and seducing the drivers, the overwhelming majority of the media seemed to be going crazy with excitement at the prospect of the first couple who drove within F1 together. It seemed the public still believed you to be Unpresented and romantically involved with the Alpha Redbull champion. They media had not yet caught onto the fact that you were actually Max’s Omega - but you knew it was only a matter of time before that secret was out in the open.

Determined to delay that particular PR scandal for as long as possible, you finally return to your apartment, already knowing who would be waiting. Max stands with a tense jaw and crossed arms outside your front door, immediately turning towards you as the elevator doors ding open. You pointedly ignore him as he begins talking to you animatedly, instead unlocking the door and walking into your apartment. He follows you in, apologising about what had happened but you’ve tuned him out, looking disinterested as you slip off your sneakers and head to your kitchen. Max’s yapping trails off at this point, the normally in command Alpha now appearing uncharacteristically nervous as he looks at you.

Schatje? Can you say something? He says, looking worried now. If you weren’t so mad, you think you might even find his soft blue eyes and scrunched brow rather cute. But you’re still very furious, letting Max know just how fucked up it had been to find out the necklace you’d been wearing had actually been his goddamn family heirloom. Wearing his choker around your neck like a collar, what, like I’m your property? A pretty pet to be put on display for the strongest Alpha? Not to mention that it’s been worn by all the Omegas in your family, you hissed at him. You’re lucky no one has started accusing me of secretly being one yet!

Max absorbs all your anger, apologetically telling you he admits not disclosing history of the necklace had been a bad idea, a mistake that he promises he would never make again. You can feel the genuine sorrow and guilt at having hurt you radiating off him. Feeling calmer now, you ask him just why he’d given you the choker to wear. You’re not my property, Max says firmly, blue eyes now steely. And I wouldn’t ever want you to feel like that. But you’re mine, just like I’m yours. I wanted to make that clear to any other Alpha who may be...interested. And trust me, there were more than a few.

Your jaw drops as you realise his intentions, and you’re completely floored. So basically, you were just jealous I was there with another guy? A sponsor? Max runs a hand through his tousled locks, now looking a bit embarrassed and you finally take in his appearance. He was still dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie, with cat slippers - clearly having gotten straight up and driver to yours. Despite your initial anger, you feel yourself soften a bit when he tells you it was mostly just instinct that made him take the necklace out of the family safe when he heard you’d be attending with a date. If I couldn’t be seen publically as your date, then I wanted to be able to offer you something else - and that necklace has been gifted to the Omegas that the Alphas in my family have been courting for the past few hundred years. Not as a collar of ownership - he adds hastily, already knowing where this could end up - but rather an offer to you that I could provide and take care of you however you like. If you’ll have me, of course. His blue eyes find yours, studying your reaction closely to his tempting invitation.

You take in his words, finding a warm flush spreading through you at the foreign idea of having an Alpha like Max promise his loyalty and dedication to you, and only you. There was something about your normally prideful rival admitting his jealousy, his possessiveness, that awoke your inner Omega. She purred at the thought of your Alpha wanting to publically declare you as his, consequences be damned. You decided to move on for now, telling him wryly that next time there might be better ways of handling his jealousy than pawning out his half a million Euro necklace.

Smiling, relieved at your extended olive branch, Max can’t resist a cheeky you’d seemed to love the diamonds last night though? You flush at the teasing, telling him there was no need to bring that up and that reminds you, it was way to expensive to just be sitting on your dresser like that and you needed to return it-

Keep it, Max says, icy fire in his eyes now as his usual assured tone returns. It was almost meant to be gifted to my Omega. It’s yours, now, just like the rest of me. Your heart flutters at his declaration, and you counter that okay, okay, but could he at least store it in his safe again for now, you did not have the contents insurance to cover it if you got robbed? Conceding, Max agrees to your compromise, and your offer to stay for breakfast as well.

Smiling at how adorably excited he looked after earning your forgiveness, you’re humming to yourself as you return to the kitchen after collecting the necklace from your bedroom. You find Max standing still, a small bottle in his hand - that you realise were actually your heat suppressants. He looks perplexed at the label, looking up at you, asking Why you had these? You feel defensive at his demanding tone. What? Obviously I’ve been taking them this whole time, especially with the way you keep trying to rile me up every race.

Max looks completely floored at the new information that you’ve been suppressing your scent, your biological reactions to him. And then he connects to dots to say you hadn’t had a real heat then? After your presentation? You eye him a little suspiciously, asking him where he was going with this but he impatiently prompts you to answer him. I haven’t, you huff, cheeks pink. I haven’t had my first heat yet.

Max’s blue eyes darken at your words, his grip on the bottle tightening so much that it actually gets crushed under his hand. He tells you that you should stop taking these suppressors immediately, that delaying your heat was going to make it much more painful for you when it finally happened. You should pick a safe time and place to come off them, let your heat happen naturally and-

No fucking way, Verstappen you say, rolling your eyes. What, just cause you want to hear me beg for your help again, huh?

Yes, Max says rather straightforwardly. I’ve been dreaming about the day you let me claim you properly. You blush a bright pink, hating how your stomach did backflips at his possessive words, remembering how insanely mind-blowing your sexual experiences have been with him so far. You can’t deny that it's been a recurring theme in the vivid dreams you've been having, that have become more and more frequent and realistic every time. They've left you wondering what your first heat would be like...and how it would feel if you let Max fuck you through it.

But still, you firmly deny his proposal, telling him to shut up because there’s no way you can stop suppressants in the middle of the season. He wisely chooses to bite his tongue at your raised eyebrow, instead putting himself to work mixing pancake batter before you kick him out, still irritated with his thoughtless demand of stopping your suppressants.

But your words come back to haunt you much sooner than you anticipated - two race weekends later. You've been avoiding coming within a 10 feet radius of Max, especially with how rabid the media have gotten, wanting to interrogate the two of you on your relationship status. You only give brief, clipped media-trained answers, saying you were here to be a racing driver and not some gossip column celebrity.

It's almost hilarious how quickly your facade crumbles, barely onto Lap 11 of the race. You'd already been feeling unwell in qualifying the day before but chalked it off as nerves from the scrutiny of thousands of eyes on you. You even took a triple dose of suppressants that morning, blatantly ignoring the health warnings on the label. You'd had to get a fresh supply after Max practically crushed all your old ones to dust, and you scowl just thinking of the memory. Goddamn arrogant Alpha, thinking it all revolved around him, around the relationship - when your first priority was always going to be the world championship. Just like you were certain his priorities lay. Why should you have to sacrifice your career just because you're an Omega?

The universe laughs at your determination, and on that fateful Lap 11 the rising dizziness you'd been feeling becomes stronger as you approach your rival's Red Bull car ahead. The closer you get to him, the more your head spins, and as you come within a couple metres - the crowd screams in excitement and shock as an involuntary shudder through your body almost makes you spin out.

And suddenly you can't breathe, or think, or do anything else because it hits you all at once. Max. Your inner Omega croons, calling out for her Alpha, the man preselected to provide and care for her in every way. And somewhere on the other end of the bond, you feel that heady, intense aura of your mate responding to the call. I'm right here. You're safe.

You almost lose all control of your car as the most intense, burning need you'd ever felt in your life overtakes you completely. And you only want one thing - your Alpha, Max. With a screech of the tires, your car goes barrelling into the barricades, safely cushioned amongst the rubber. Luckily, you aren't hurt, dazedly yanking off your wheel and belt as you stumble out of your car, ignoring the frantic messages over your team radio. You keep your helmet firmly on, trying desperately to focus on taking one step in front of the other and get off this track, no longer caring about the massive fine you were going to get slapped with for disrupting the race.

You barely remember what happened next, keeping your eyes closed and clenching your fists because of how much your head pounded. Blood rushes to your ears, your veins chanting for Max, Max, your Alpha, you needed him-

Your team is tripping over themselves in a rush to come grab you as you stumble to the Mercedes garage. But when quite a few of them freeze, staring at you in shock, you finally realise that you couldn't hide your secret anymore. Because the delicious, sweet scent of an unclaimed Omega in her primal heat radiated off you in thick waves. You're crying at how distressed you feel, thankful for the helmet hiding your reaction. Toto appears at some point, pulling you into his side to navigate through the crowd. There's people talking around you rapidly but you can barely piece together their words, and then you hear Toto's strong voice cutting through it, speaking to you with his authoritative voice. Your Omega hones in for a second, taking in something about getting you out of here, to a safe location for a few days- but then you lose interest, because this isn't the Alpha that you so desperately wish was by your side right now.

You're being led quickly to a discreet car around the back end, and your boss is impatiently ushering you towards it, pausing for a second to yank your helmet off so you can hear him better. Bad, bad idea - he takes one look at your flushed, dazed face before he swears, stumbling back when your sickeningly sweet smell hits him now that your neck is exposed. You reach out instinctively, wanting him to stay by your side and protect you through this confusing mess but he turns around stiffly, pressing his hand to his nose to block out any scent.

Your manager - a Beta - steps in and guided your distressed figure into the backseat, whispering reassurances to you that it was all going to be okay. The last thing you remember is Toto's face as he turns to see your car drive off, his face tense. With a jolt, you realise that the unfamiliar darkness in his eyes was a response to your heat, because it was so strong it had even affected a mated Alpha.

A few hours later, you're well away from the racetrack. Your manager had somehow managed to smuggle you onto an emergency chartered jet to take you back to Monaco. But instead of letting you rest in the comfort of your apartment, she insisted you go shower and clean up while she packed a bag. You spend a good 30minutes under the icy cold shower, enjoying the relief against your skin which had started to become very warm. But your temporary relief is put to an end when you're once again ushered out, into another car, and then she's driving you out towards the Italian farmlands outside of the city.

You don't recognise the double storied terracotta house she pulls upto in the late afternoon, in the middle of a sprawling vineyard without any other houses visible for miles. You confusedly ask her what was going on as she helps you into the house, letting you rest on the sofa as she makes sure all the windows are locked shut. Turning on the AC to maximum, she turns to explain you were in a safe house, a good 45 minutes away from the nearest inhabitants of a rural Italian village.

It's actually a very cozy place, with a traditional exterior but modern interior, the kitchen fully stocked and high grade security locks on the windows and doors. For you to spend your heat safely, your manager says firmly. She makes you promise that you'll stay inside, and not to be scared, because no one knows you were here - not even Max. She hesitates, then, looking sympathetic at your flushed figure as you start burning up uncomfortably despite the aircon. It'll be a painful, getting through this first heat alone. It's a pity you and Max weren't able to work it out before it started...but maybe next time. Leaving your phone plugged in for any emergencies, she leaves, telling you she'd return in a week's time.

And then you're finally alone. The sheer exhaustion of the day hits you, the realisation that the whole world had seen, had smelt the secret you'd been hiding. You fall asleep on the sofa, wanting to forget it all and escape. When you wake a few hours later, the sun is setting over the horizon. You're not sure what woke you up, and then your brain catches up the suddenly unbearable heat radiating from your body. You shrug out of your outer layers, still panting despite being left in a thin camisole singlet and tiny shorts. You needed some air, it was so goddamn hot -

Ignoring your manager's warning, you unbolt the front door and step outside into the dusky twilight. Your senses are still muddled, feeling fried from the aching heat, but then a few seconds later you feel yourself regaining some clarity. You think it was the evening breeze that soothed you - but your inner Omega hones in on something else carried over in the breeze. A smoky, amber scent fills you senses, and makes you suddenly gush an embarrassing amount of slick into your panties.

And when you turn to look at the source, you see your Alpha agitatedly prowling towards you through the grapevines, his dusty Jeep parked haphazardly behind him. He comes to a stop a few metres away, watching you intensely with a tilt of his head, his own chest rapidly rising with deep pants. The sight of the Dutch Lion has the desperate need to be fucked going overdrive within you, and his low growl carries across the gap as he catches a hint of how delicious your slick in heat smells. Missed me, my sweet Omega? Max murmurs, velvet voice deep as he takes in your bare neck and inviting breasts as you breathe him in.

But your little game isn't over yet, and in the brief moment of sanity you're asking him how the hell he had found you? Eyes darkening at your shaky voice, ice blue eyes roaming over your barely dressed figure, he huskily murmurs a What do you think? I just followed the delicious scent of my Omega in heat. There was no way in hell I was finishing that race as soon as you called for me through the bond.

Your heart beats even faster at his confession. You hadn't known the Dutchman had given up his position in P1 to come to you. You'd find out later too that the Redbull driver had stormed into the Mercedes garage minutes after you'd left, demanding to know why you'd been smuggled away from him. And he'd taken one look at Toto Wolff's face, seen his eyes overcome with desire at smelling you, Max's Omega...and promptly seen red. It had ended up taking 4 Alphas to separate the Dutchman from the German team principal, and that was after Max had gotten three strong blows in. The FIA were going to be gleefully rolling in cash from the amount of fines they were sending the latest grid couple's way.

But you weren't aware of any of that in the present. All you could think about was how he'd made you wait hours today. It had been pure torture when he should have been by your side, reassuring you, taking care of you in the way only he can. You test him one more time, telling him if he'd come all the way here thinking you were going to get to fuck me then he was going to be disappointed. You weren't going to let an Alpha who was late to his mate's first heat lay his claim, you say with a sniff.

You smirk coyly at the warning rumble in Max's chest at your stubborn challenge. Then, in an instant, you're taking off, sprinting like a wild rabbit through the vineyard fields as the full moon lights the way. Your body is moving on instinct, and you've heard of this before, the Priming - the final test an Omega performed to see if the Alpha was able to keep up with her, to catch her successfully and make her his mate.

You laugh excitedly, the sound travelling in the air, when you look back and don’t see him anymore. You think you've outsmarted him when you cut through a hidden pathway, almost at the edge of the field and into the woods-

When a large, muscled arm knocks the wind out of you when it wraps firmly around your waist and yanks you back. And then you’re pressed into a warm, hard body with a possessive hand snaking around your neck, and you know your game is over. You gasp when Max bends down to your level, your tiny frame barely brushing his upper chest. He turns your chubby cheeks with his large hand to meet his intense, hungry gaze. The last flecks of the beautiful ocean blue have completely disappeared as darkness swirls in Max’s eyes. I’m going to claim you now, my sweet little Omega he purrs, enjoying how your tits bounce up and down as you pant in response to in his intoxicating, dominating scent.

And when you bite your lip, your doe eyes completely glazed over with lust as you tilt your delicate neck back invitingly, he knows you’re finally all his. Licking a stripe up the column of your throat as a teaser of what was to come, he smiles at the shaky hitch in your breathing. More slick drips out of you, drenching your panties and making you press your thighs together desperately. Smirking now, he teases you as he presses that big nose you adore against your collarbone, his deep accented voice murmuring against your feverish skin. You’re so wet for me and I haven’t even touched you there yet. Didn’t I tell you this would happen with those fucking suppressants? But my Omega is just too stubborn to listen to me, hmm?

He teases you more, his voice husky and magnetic as he moves his lips by your ear to whisper into it. What do you want me to do about this mess, schat? You can’t take this torture any longer, and with a whine you wrap both your hands around his thick, veiny forearm to pull it from your waist and instead cup your soaked core through your thin shorts. Max, you whine, Maxie, Maxieee, yo-you’re gonna take care of me, right? Like a good Alpha? You promised you would when you gave me the necklace!

Your desperate pleas have him growling, and he lifts you up easily to toss you over his broad shoulder. You squeal in shock at the sudden change in position as he stalks off back to the house, locking it firmly behind him once past the front door. And then there’s nothing standing in the way of his large hands exploring your sensitive body, the only salvation to your burning fever. His strong hands easily rip away your camisole, your shorts, and his eyes - that are completely black now - hungrily roam over your heaving tits and wet cunny. He inhales deeply as he climbs on top of you, taking in the scent of his sweet Omega as she begs for him to claim her.

And this time, he wasn’t going to stop until his cock was buried deep inside your pussy, and his fangs on your exposed throat as he leaves his mark there for the world to see who you belonged to.

—————————————————————————

A/N: Tysm for ur patience guys sorry this took so long 🥹🥹 hope u enjoy!!! Love me some primal feral max can't believe i wrote 10k lol. was gonna split it into part 2 and 3 but was like nah ya'll have waited long enough x

[resu-w-ana]

Merlin noticed it soon after the magic ban was lifted.

Every time someone used magic around Arthur, the king flinched.

Really, Merlin wasn't expecting Arthur to embrace all magic users with love and trust. He really shouldn't do something stupid like that.

He wasn't sure if Arthur knew about his own reaction or not. It hurt nonetheless.

Constant paranoia and perspective to be burned alive took the best of his desire to show people his magical talents. But the freedom was intoxicating, and whatever Arthur was afraid of magic or not, he would never took it's freedom again.

He had enough work as newly appointed Court Sorcerer to not let his magic idle. The knight and Gwen were here to enjoy pretty tricks too.

So Merlin reduced his magic around the king to doing only necessary things.

Making Arthur comfortable were more important than Merlin's desire to enjoy the beauty of magic with his king.

But the problem accrued from where he least expected.

«Why won't you use magic?»

«I- Ehm, It's possible to do without magic just as easy.»

«I saw you moving dinner plate because you were to lazy to stretch yesterday.»

«I thought I was alone! How do you even know that? Were you spying on me?»

«Oh, come on, Merlin. As if you are that interesting. Doors were open, I was just passing by.»

Even if doors were open, Arthur couldn't accidentally catch him, considering the fact, that there was only one way to Merlin's tower.

Arthur's weird explanation aside, the crisis was averted.

Or so Merlin thought. Because Arthur hadn't stopped.

Every time Merlin did something remotely hard by his hand, Arthur asked the same question: «why won't you use magic?»

Now Merlin was the one running out of weird explanations.

He had no desire to explain his reasoning to Arthur, nor asking Arthur for something he clearly wasn't comfortable with.

Merlin even paid attention to king behaviour around magic more precisely, in case it had changed. But no, the flinching was still there.

Contradicting his own reaction, Arthur cornered him with more determination them ever before.

«So tell me, why knights have no idea about yours so called "proper use of magic".»

«Well... They do know very little about proper use of anything. Especially Gwaine.»

«Yeah, Gwaine, who's apple your turned from green to red because he wished for another variety.»

«I-, Merlin started, as Arthur continued:

«Or should I mention fire figures you do for Leon constantly? The story about Lance's and Gwen's dinner table? Gaius' flying potions?"

Merlin felt guilt creeping onto him.

«Do I need to continue? Because I'm cer–»

«No! No! I got your point!»

«So?»

«So...»

«Explain yourself.»

When Merlin still hesitated, Arthur decided to use lethal weapon: «you promised no more secrets.»

Merlin deflated. «It's not a secret.»

«Then tell me.»

«I've noticed you've tensed whatever magic was around. Decided to spare you the trouble.»

«Oh.»

Suddenly, Arthur wasn't angry anymore. He looked sad and... Guilty?

«It's okay» and «I'm sorry» they said at the same time, than stared at each other.

«You have nothing to be sorry for!» Merlin argued.

«It's not nothing and it's not okay!» Arthur replied.

«That's why I didn't want to tell you! Now you feel like you're doing something wrong or not enough or whatever!»

«Well, that's because I do!»

«No, you're not!»

Arthur sighed. «Look, Merlin... You're not wrong, magic does make me nervous. For all my life, every time someone used it, it was with intention to hurt me.»

He stopped, thinking about his next words. «You are an exception. Yours feel safe.»

«Safe?»

«I don't know how to describe it. It feels warm and... safe. I like it. And I like watching you do magic, too.»

«Oh.»

«Yeah.»

«I'm sorry.»

Arthur smiled. «You can repent your crimes by stopping hiding your magic from me,» he said in playfully serious tone.

Merlin smirked. «Of corse, sire. What would you like to watch now?»

[heartfullofleeches]

Yan arena beasts/fighters + handler reader. Reader is an average human working at a zoo/shelters abducted and thrown into a life of caring for a galactic tyrant's playthings due to their experience with animals. Not an idea choice for the job, but with everyone who's had the job before being maimed, killed, or worse they were running out of options. Reader does the best with what they're given. They find solitude with the other captives to an extent and some of the more feral creatures remind them of stray cats and dogs they knew back home. They treat those who allow as those same poor creatures out of habit and to cope with their new life. Others are so aggressive they have to be blindfold and sedated to even get close. Reader still tries to comfort them despite the many scratches and bites they receive

A little mix up happens where a warrior meant to fight the big bad of the area had already been slain by the beast. With no alternative, reader gets sent out instead as sacrifice to appease the blood hungry masses. They cower in the corner as the beast's mask is removed, praying their battered body at least gets shipped home so they have a proper burial and their family has some clue to what happened to them. They cast their small dagger away still unable to defend themselves against what they only see as a frightened animal protecting its own skin. The beast lifts them off the ground like a ragdoll holding them high for the crowd to see as its fangs draw from its scarred lips - breaking the band around its wrist that would seal reader's victory.

The beast ties the rope around reader's neck as the announcer declares them victor by default. The crowd boos, but as the beast snaps the neck of one of the guards and throws the limb body into the arena their demands are met. Reader quakes from the sheer disbelief of the whole ordeal, and still being trapped in the beast's arms as it coos. It takes over a dozen guards to get them to separate the two. They try again with another beast reader has care for and the same thing happens. Watching the live footage closely it's clear to experts the skilled fighters allow themselves to get injured to be coddled and tended to by reader. When rations are given they try to feed reader a share of their meals. The number of casualties skyrocket when reader's taken away or new caretakers are introduced. The beasts demand their head pats and ear scratches for their winnings and they want it from one source alone.

-

The emperor is quite amused by this revelation. It perfectly masks his paranoia in the case of his pets rising against him for whatever reason and choosing the earthling as their new overlord which few have spoken of in whispers. He's torn between killing them to null his fears and befriending them to puppeteer his pets craftfully from the shadows. He decides on the latter since getting rid of them would only anger his pets. That and it would be so easy to trick the human with his charms. Few can resist the words and body of a king, after all.

"Y/n, darling, it's so good to see you! So glad you could make it. How have things been, hm?"

"I'd like to go home, please."

"Hahaha! Oh, you're so cute with your little jokes! You may enjoy your meal in due time, but I have a favor to ask of you from a friend to a king. In the case of I don't know - my pets slaughtering my entire legion and storming my castle walls to behead me and crown you ruler - would you pretty please ask them to - not do that?"

"That....sounds like it would be out of my hands."

"Right. Changing subject, you are aware I have been topless this whole conversation and my bed is right behind me. Why haven't you attempted to have your way with me by now? Not saying you could - but you can always try."

The emperor upgrades their room to one right next to his, but they hardly sleep there favoring their time caring for the others and because they'd rather stay there than see him in a state of undress on their mattress. The emperor mimics the cooing that gets wounded beasts extra smothering from their handler, but reader mostly ignores him. He grows jealous seeing them fast asleep in a cell kept warm by the body heat of the battle scarred creatures around them. He's been scarred by attempted assassinations in the past - why doesn't he get cuddles too? Combats this jealously by making a royal decree that reader has to sit with him during every battle and on his lap if they wish to stay out of his sight afterwards. Requests for reader's fredom and hand in marriage and when a champion is chosen are banned almost immediately.

[ceruark]

trick, or treat?

gorgon! dr. ratio, zombie! blade, vampire! aventurine, & ghost! sunday x gn! reader [separate] synopsis: monster encounters are rather unfortunate, but perhaps your luck is better than others' ;) words: 3.6k cw: none! a/n: happy halloween!! <3

DR. RATIO - GORGON

Everyone in your university’s town knows that the cavern at the end of the river is haunted. With what, exactly, no one knows, but what you do know is that everyone who goes in never comes out— not even law enforcement officers pursuing cold cases and trying to quell the worries of distraught families.

So when your friends suggest visiting said cave on Halloweekend to get into the “spooky spirit,” you vehemently decline and insist on returning to campus to find some stupid frat party to get shitfaced at instead.

“Come on,” Kakavasha laughs, pulling you by the sleeve. “I grew up here, and no one’s actually gone in there in decades. It’s probably some stupid rumor that parents made up so their kids didn’t go play in the cave and get hurt.”

And that’s how you end up walking into the dark, damp cave with a large group of boisterous college students. You’re at the very back of the group, sandwiched between Kakavasha and Jelena and clinging onto them for dear life. You jump at every little sound, prompting those nearest to you to laugh at your paranoia. It’s all fun and games until you hear the distinct sound of hissing beside you, far too close for comfort.

“That’s not funny,” you complain, glaring at your friends. “You’ve had your fun, you scared me, so can we please get the hell out of here?”

“That’s not us,” Guinafen responds. She looks a little nervous herself. “That’s near you guys, and the rest of us are over here.”

“You’re overreacting,” Caelus says. He turns his phone flashlight brighter, swiveling it around the cave. “It’s probably noth—”

The light catches onto a stone statue. The subject’s face is frozen in a horrified shriek, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. He holds a flashlight in his right hand, and his left hand is clutching what seems to be a walkie-talkie. As you take in the man’s clothes and the badge on his chest, you realize it’s a police officer— or rather, a man with a mullet wearing a very outdated police uniform.

You hardly have time to process this, though, because behind the statue stands a foreboding figure with writhing, violet snakes for hair and glowing red eyes.

And he’s starting right at you.

With a shout from Stelle, the cave descends into chaos. She rushes forward and claps a hand over her twin’s eyes, pulling him back toward her and away from the statue. Your friends’ screams drown out your own panicked breathing, and you stumble as some of them shove past you and each other, fleeing toward the cave entrance in an ‘every-man-for-himself’ fashion.

You take off in a sprint, following the sound of Kakavasha and Jelena’s voices calling for you from up ahead and using them to navigate your way in the darkness. You struggle to move your limbs, your joints feeling as if they’re growing stiffer with each passing second. As you draw closer to the exit, someone slams into your shoulder from behind, sending you crashing into what feels like another statue. You shove yourself off of it, but your foot catches onto the statue’s own foot, and you trip, tumbling toward the floor.

As the footsteps of whoever left you for dead grow fainter, a strong arm wraps itself around your torso, catching you and keeping you upright.

The hissing is deafening in your ears. You shudder as you feel a few snakes make contact with your skin, sliding along your ears and the back of your neck. Your heart races as a hand makes contact with yours. It presses some kind of glass container into it.

“Watch your step,” a deep, rich voice says against your ear. They let go of your waist and gently nudge your shoulder, and as if snapping out of a trance, you take off running again.

When you reach the outside of the cave, half the group you arrived with is gone. Guinafen and Sushang sit by Stelle, who is cussing out Caelus while cleaning his scraped knee. Kakavasha and Jelena fuss over you, checking you over to make sure you’re okay and trying to coax you out of your shocked state.

“Oh no,” Kakavasha whispers suddenly. Jelena’s face has drained of color.

You bring a hand up to your cheek. Your fingers graze over it, and your heart skips a beat as your fingertips meet cold concrete instead of warm flesh. A sob leaves you as Jelena and Kakavasha latch onto you, saying words that your brain isn’t registering right now. 

You look down at your hand. A glass vial is clutched in it, filled with a thick red liquid that almost looks like blood. Without thinking twice, you rip the cap off the vial and bring it to your lips. Grimacing, you force the liquid down your throat as the taste of iron coats your tongue. You gasp out a breath once it’s all gone, and bring your hand back up to your cheek.

Your friends watch with wide eyes as the gray patch stops for a minute, and then begins shrinking. You keep your fingers pressed against it until all you can feel is the smoothness of skin beneath them.

You spare a glance back at the entrance of the cave and tilt your head, curious.

BLADE - ZOMBIE

You were just trying to be a good samaritan, doing your due diligence as a fellow human being to help someone out when they appeared to be down on their luck. You were admittedly intimidated when you saw a tall, broad man stumbling slowly down the street while you were driving through the woods, on the way home from your friend’s Halloween party. You intended to mind your business, until your headlights shined on him and you saw blood dripping down from his forehead, standing out greatly against his pale skin.

You pulled to the side of the road and tried to talk to him, asking what happened, but he merely stared down at you without response. His red eyes made you nervous, but he didn’t seem to be hostile or aggressive, so you sat him down in the backseat of your car and treated him with the first aid kit you kept in your trunk. After more failed attempts at conversation, you drove him to the nearest police station and left him at the front doors, bidding him well wishes before driving home.

And then, things got weird. To begin with, the day after the strange encounter, your friend, Firefly, messaged your group chat saying that local police were investigating a defiled grave, and that whoever had messed with it had taken the entire corpse out of the coffin. More concerning, though, was that you constantly felt as though you were being watched, and when you peered out the windows at night, you could notice the silhouette of a large man lurking somewhere near your house.

After a week, you’re at your wit’s end and overcome with fear. Rushing out of your house and not in your right mind, you make the poor judgment of walking to the police station— and turning down an alleyway as a shortcut. Alone, and clearly afraid, you’re an easy target for some bad actors who hold you at gunpoint and demand money.

In the blink of an eye, one of them has been tackled to the floor, and the other is firing bullets at a large man who rises to his feet with jerky movements. The robber grows hysterical as the bullets lodge themselves into the man’s flesh, but no blood comes out. You watch, in horror, as the man walks up to the robber— the bullets doing absolutely nothing to faze him— and grabs the other by the neck. He wraps a hand around the robber’s neck and lifts him off the ground, then throws him into the wall. The robber crumples to the ground, unconscious. You hold your breath and press yourself closer to the wall behind you as he slowly begins to turn around.

Confusion and alarm shoot through you when he faces you and you realize that it’s the man from the other night. Slowly, he stumbles forward, and you tense when he reaches into his pocket. He takes your hand in his impossibly cold one, and then gently places your wallet into your waiting palm. He lets out a grunt, then releases you.

A defiled grave! The entire body went missing, it’s unbelievable!

You have no idea how you’re going to tell Firefly you know where the body is without having her think you’re a grave robber and a weirdo. You also have no idea how you’re supposed to house an entire zombie who enjoys looming menacingly a few feet behind you, but, well— maybe it’s a little endearing.

AVENTURINE - VAMPIRE

Your friend is strange.

Granted, Jelena had complained to you about Kakavasha’s odd habits long before she ever introduced you to him. He’s a picky eater, always asking about what ingredients are in a dish before deciding if he wants it or not. The dishes he refuses seem completely arbitrary, at least to you; he insists that it’s an allergy, but you’ve yet to figure out what he’s allergic to, and he’s yet to tell you. He also refuses any alcohol that’s not wine, claiming that his tongue is sensitive. (You’re convinced he’s just a drama queen who can’t hold his liquor.) He loves being in pictures and often uses his phone’s front-facing camera to fuss over his appearance, but he avoids mirrors and reflective surfaces like the plague. For someone so self-obsessed, I’m surprised he doesn’t carry a mirror on him, she’d said once.

That being said, you’re fairly certain you’ve taken all of his oddities into proper consideration and made your home as comfortable for him as possible. Kakavasha is one of your only friends who doesn’t scare easily and isn’t squeamish with gore, so when he agreed to binge slasher movies with you on Halloweekend, you were ecstatic. You purchased two bottles of high-end red wine, and prepared a nice steak dish with mashed potatoes and asparagus for dinner. You even covered every mirror in your home to make sure he wouldn’t be antsy all night.

Just as you toss a blanket over the full-length mirror in the corner of your room, the doorbell rings. You lift the blanket up a bit and fix your hair, then rush to answer the door. As you open it, Kakavasha grins at you, his eyes lighting up with it.

“Hey, Vasha.” You smile back at him. You turn around and begin to retreat into the house, but pause when you don't hear him following you. You look back at him and raise an eyebrow when you see him still standing on the porch, away from the doorway.

You snort. “What are you waiting for? An invitation?”

He smirks at you, clearly finding something funny. “I wouldn’t want to overstep.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Come in already.”

At your words, he happily bounds inside and follows you into the dining room, where the table's already been set. He gasps happily at the smell of the steak— apparently he was able to guess what it was before he even saw it. 

Your smile grows a bit at his pleased expression. “Bloody and still breathing, just the way you like it,” you joke. You pause, mentally reviewing the list you and Jelena have compiled of Kakavasha’s suspected allergies. “No cayenne pepper, nuts, garlic, thyme, or turmeric.”

He grins again, open-mouthed this time. His oddly pointed canines glint beneath the lights. “Oh, how you spoil me.”

After a nice dinner filled with friendly banter and Kakavasha’s on-brand gossipping, you two move to the couch, taking the bottles of wine with you. You put on the first Scream movie as he pours you both a glass. The night is filled with snarky commentary on the movies and debates on who in your friend group would survive in a slasher film. (You don’t count, you tell him, you’d be Ghostface and we’d all die.) By the time the credits for Scream 3 roll, you’ve both drained your wine supply dry and a sleepiness has settled into your blood, accompanying the pleasant buzz from the alcohol. Kakavasha is still wide awake, but he’s always been a night owl. You stifle a yawn and turn to him.

“I would bring out more wine, but unfortunately, I’m a bad host and didn’t buy extra,” you say, smiling sleepily at him.

He hums, then reaches out to brush a strand of hair out of your face. You ignore the way your heart skips a beat. His hand lingers by your neck. He smiles, a little too wide and a little too friendly. Your eyes are held by his, which emit a strange glow.

“No worries, friend. You’ve been so kind to me all night,” he says, leaning in a little closer.

“Besides, there’s something else I’d much rather have a drink of.”

SUNDAY - GHOST

Your condo being haunted isn’t exactly news to you— the previous owners had disclosed this to you. They said that while they didn’t believe the spirit to be malevolent, it was too active for their liking and the thought of something else in the home freaked them out too much to stay there. Desperate to sell the condo, they listed it at a price far lower than was reasonable, and you were more than willing to put up with a little paranormal activity if it meant finally moving out of the hell house you grew up in.

You expected things to be like the movies and take a while, but that didn’t happen at all. The day after you moved in, you noticed drawers and cabinets being left open, some of which you hadn’t even approached that day. The contents inside were always just slightly out of place, as if someone had grown curious and decided to look through them. While cooking or watching TV, you would feel the occasional gust of cold air brush past you, even if the windows were shut tight. If you were losing your mind searching for something you misplaced, it would show up shortly after you returned to the room you’d been in, placed out in the open and easy to spot.

It did creep you out at first. But with time, you became accustomed to the spirit's presence, and even began talking to it, rambling out loud about your day, the show you were watching, and any gossip you had to share about your coworkers or friends.

Five months later, and here you are, scurrying about the condo in a frenzy to make a nice dinner and get yourself dressed up. At this point, you’ve thanked the spirit at least five times in the past two hours, your frazzled mind making you misplace your belongings more than usual.

Your longtime boyfriend is visiting today. He’s studying abroad for his Master’s degree, so you don’t get to see him very often. The few moments you get with him are already special, but this time, he’s seeing your condo— what you hope will be your shared future home— for the first time.

Everything has to be perfect.

The doorbell rings just as you finish plating the pasta dish you put together. Quickly, you rinse your hands off in the sink and pat them dry with a dish rag. You swipe the bouquet of flowers you purchased earlier that day off the coffee table, then you answer the door.

You beam at your boyfriend, which he returns half-heartedly, but you don’t notice. You throw your arms around him and pull him in for a kiss before handing him the bouquet. He takes it, expression slightly pained. “I missed you so much,” you say, guiding him into the house. He says he missed you too, then steps inside, taking a look around.

He lets out a low whistle. “It’s nice,” he says, nodding approvingly. “I still can’t believe you got it for as much as you did.”

You grin. “It is, isn’t it? A little haunting here and there is worth it.”

Your boyfriend raises an eyebrow at that. “Haunting?”

You relay what the owners had told you when you bought the condo, along with some of your own experiences. “I don’t mind it at all,” you say as you pour him some white wine. “It’s been so helpful, I’d honestly be running around like a headless chicken without it.”

Dinner is pleasant. You talk about work and your friends, and he talks about his thesis and ongoing research. You love it when he’s like this, speaking passionately about his life’s work and getting lost in the details. It’s what drew you to him in the first place.

“I hope you’re not working yourself to the bone,” you say as you stand to collect the plates. “Have you made any friends? Gone out anywhere?”

He freezes in place at your words, prompting you to, as well. Your hand hovers by his plate, hesitant. He looks crestfallen, and refuses to meet your eyes.

“Is something wrong?” You ask when the silence grows unbearable. After another long moment, he mumbles something under his breath that you can’t hear. “I’m sorry,” you say, “I didn’t catch that.”

He looks up at you with a guilt-ridden expression. Slowly, he repeats, “There’s someone else.”

The room goes cold, and this time, you’re not sure if it’s because of the spirit, or if it’s just you. Your plate slips from your hand and clatters to the floor, and for a fleeting moment you think about how grateful you are that it isn’t porcelain. You stare at your boyfriend, mouth slightly open, and tears welling in your eyes.

“What?” You whisper, heartbroken.

“I was lonely over there,” he mumbles, fidgeting with his sleeves. “One of my research partners, he was flirting with me and I— I turned him down the first few weeks but then we all drank together one night, and one thing led to another, and—”

“You slept with him?” Your voice sounds so far away from you, like you’re somewhere else entirely. “Just that night?”

He swallows. “I’ve been with him for seven months.”

“Seven—” You gasp out a sob, and clench your hands into fists. “Seven months. You were with him the last time you visited, and you didn’t bother to break things off then?”

“I didn’t think it was going to last this long.” He shakes his head. “I thought it was just a rough patch. I was going to end things when I got back.”

You laugh, harshly and without humor. “You were gonna end things, and what? Act like you never fucking cheated on me?”

He takes a step back, defensive. The guilt on his face twists into disdain. “You know, this wouldn’t have happened if you just came with me to Xianzhou.”

“Oh, yeah, sure, just uproot my entire life in Penacony to keep you company while you pursue your career and make me abandon mine.” You glare at him. “Don’t try to make me feel bad for something that was entirely your fault.”

He looks as if he’s about to yell back at you, but he smooths his face out into something apologetic before he does. “Baby, I’m sorry,” he says. He starts taking large steps toward you, and you back away from him with two steps for each one he takes. “Please, we can work through this—”

He crosses in front of the table. The tablecloth flies off the table, pulled out from under the dishes. The dishes go flying, and his half-full wine glass hits him in the shoulder, spilling all over what you’re sure is a very expensive shirt. 

He looks around, eyes blazing with rage and fear. “What the hell?”

The chair he was sitting in creaks, then shoots toward him at an impossible speed, skidding horrendously across the floor before it crashes into his leg. As he keels over, the picture frames and cooking utensils hanging from the racks on the wall start clattering against the walls, a tremor sweeping through the house. The lights flicker, before going out completely.

The room is freezing.

Your ex-boyfriend looks at you, alarmed. Despite your own fear and racing heart, you manage to keep your face impassive.

“Get out of my house,” you whisper.

The cabinet doors begin opening and slamming shut. The room shakes more violently. Your ex scrambles to his feet and rushes to the entrance, where the door is already wide open. When he steps foot on the porch, it slams shut on its own behind him.

The cabinets close gently. The tremors stop.

You collapse into the wall and sink to the floor, sobs pouring out of you as you bury your face into your knees. Your heart aches in your chest, an ache that echoes in your knees as you clutch onto and dig your fingers into them.

Suddenly, you feel two gentle hands settle on your shoulders. A chill shoots down your spine, but still, you will yourself to look up.

Moonlight pours in through the windows, illuminating the man kneeling before you. His hair falls just past his shoulders in grayish-blue waves. He dons men’s casual wear from what must be the 1920s. Your gaze linger on the very blatant stab wound in his stomach before shooting up to his face. Golden eyes gaze down at you, his expression so soft it takes your breath away. The beams of light cut straight through him, pronouncing the wispiness around his being. Slowly, he pulls you into an embrace that you cannot return. He holds you for a brief moment, then the lights flicker back on, and he’s gone.

The room is still freezing, but you’ve never felt warmer.

[animeyanderelover]

Since you're starting JJK, can you do the sleeping with a yandere ask for Yuuji, Sukuna, Megumi, Nanami, Gojo and characters of your choice?

I’ll be going on a vacation during my holidays so expect little to no updates from me then. Those sleeping habits that are what I imagine those characters to be like, by the way.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationship, toxic relationship, obsession, possessive behavior, delusion, clinginess, abduction

Sleeping with a Yandere

Itadori Yuji

🩷​Yuji is a walking cuddle bear already if you two aren't sleeping in the same bed because he just can't get enough of his sweetheart. An abduction is never something that Yuji sees himself doing nor do you really so with the so unexpected abduction your relationship falls apart and it breaks Yuji's heart. Maybe some part of his brain can understand why you're as upset as you are right now but considering that he only resorts to an abduction in extreme situations, another part of him is just as stubborn to believe that he has done only something to be able to protect you. It isn't like he plans to imprison you forever after all. His delusions have even made him hope that you'd want to share a bed with him yet he resigns himself to your rejection and prepares a futon for you in another room.

🩷​One of the most obvious problems with Yuji isn't even something that is his own fault. Sukuna has to make some comments from time to time to try to annoy and anger the boy which might happen whilst both of you try to sleep as well. He always slaps the mouth of Sukuna that suddenly appears and apologizes to you slightly embarrassed about the inconvenience. Otherwise Yuji sleeps well, really well. Maybe sometimes a bit too well as you can't help but wonder how you can get him to wake up when you awake in the middle of the night and feel the urgent need to go to the bathroom. It always takes you a minute or two of shaking, light slapping and whispering his name until he wakes up and lets you out of his arms because his grip is too strong for you to free yourself alone. He snores slightly but that isn't the worst, you'd much rather make a fuss about the fact that he tends to drool on you in his sleep.

Fushiguro Megumi

💙​As Megumi's darling you'd do the both of you a favor by being a reassuring individual since the Jujutsu Sorcerer tends to be very easily paranoid. He's had a case of being stressed around people before yet now with your addition to his life, this all becomes just multiple times worse. Ultimately it is this paranoia that drives him to the act of an abduction and similar to Yuji, he partially knows why it would scare you. Yet he has never had problems with justifying questionable actions with his love for you in mind so this won't be any different in this scenario. Why don't you understand that this was all done for your safety?? A strong negative response from your side leads to avoidance as he gives you time, gives himself partially time too to calm himself. Both of you sleep in different rooms during that time, although you know that he still keeps an eye on you.

💙​He doesn't want to show a very strong response when both of you start sharing a bed, it isn't his style. He would be lying though if he would say that he isn't looking forward to it. It's one of the highlights of his entire day where he has to exhaust himself with the antics of his fellow Jujutsu Sorcerers and pressure from the Zenin clan so spending the hours of the night with your warmth close to his body always reminds him that there's still something good left for him, a person who makes all the drama durable. I see him as someone who needs hours to fall asleep simply because there's so much going on in his mind and often it happens that Megumi goes through interactions you had with people that day and start overthinking certain gestures and words you exchanged with them. He isn't someone with a deep sleep either and worst of all is that he tends to wake up a lot at night, his gaze always searching for you every time that happens and if he doesn't see you, he tends to freak out a bit.

Zenin Maki

💚​If her darling is acting like a crybaby after their abduction, there might be signs of very mild annoyance from Maki's side but otherwise she is very patient. She fully understand why you're upset and mad at her, she's aware of what she has done. The aspect of protection dulls potential guilt though as she will always value your safety and life over your own feelings if there is no other way around it. She's so tough and strict but oddly fair at the same time because her cold facade doesn't mean that she just doesn't care at all. She's willing to give you some space and time for yourself as she's sure that you need it and as long as you don't try to escape or are seriously rude, she won't force you into anything. You get your own room with your own bed to sleep in and won't hear much from her for the next few days, although you know that she's still checking on you.

💚​She is looking forward to it but don't expect her to openly admit that. She isn't one to ask you first about this and if you're the one to suggest it first, she will never spot teasing you subtly about it for the rest of your life. She does her best though to suppress the smug grin that wants to appear on her face during the first few nights. She isn't actively cuddling you but you definitely have a problem at hand when she decides to swing an arm around your waist because subconsciously she tightens her grip once she falls asleep and since she has a very superior strength to the average human, you won't get up anytime soon unless you wake her up. She normally is able to sleep quite well but when she's stressed she experiences troubles falling asleep or tends to wake up multiple times at night. Normally she acts all tough and rarely talks to you about her own worries but if you ever witness her having an erratic sleep at night, you always know that there's something that is stressing her out.

Ryomen Sukuna

🗾His darling is screwed no matter how you might look at it, especially if they're only a human. Because this man has made it very apparent that he doesn't care for anyone or anything and even you won't be an exception for this. Sukuna has always been a man who takes what he wants and that applies for you just as much. You're an object of his affection and greedy desire, by all means he sees you as his valued possession more than he sees you as a person with feelings and rights. So you can't expect any sympathy from him after your abduction and you'd do your best to not get on his nerves because he can hurt you and he will do so if he feels like it. Sukuna only does what he wants and the only thing you can really do is take it silently in hopes of not angering him but he'd find it cute if you would always show a little bit of fear around him.

🗾​I'm not even sure if he needs any sleep anymore since his times as a human are long over although he has kept his memories from that time so he still remembers that humans need sleep. Although what you need doesn't have to mean by a long shot that he'll just give it to you freely. In fact I totally see him terrorizing your sleep sometimes for the shallow reason of his own sadistic amusement. Other times he only allows you to fall asleep if you let him join you in bed and he'll keep you otherwise awake nights on end until you're too tired to care anymore. You're incredibly dumb for letting him so close to you in your most vulnerable state and the times that he has considered abusing that vulnerability are numerous. Honestly, he's being the ultimate creep by just watching you sleep the entire time, hands roaming over your body to feel what is his but if he's feeling rather relaxed and mellow, he sometimes just buries his face in your neck, closes his eyes and enjoys your scent, your warmth, your heartbeat.

Gojo Satoru

🩵​Best of luck with Gojo after an abduction, better say goodbye to your privacy and personal boundaries because Gojo? He just doesn't give a single fuck about any of those. No, somehow he grows even more overbearing after you're permanently stuck in the probably biggest house that you've ever been in. Partially just because he feels like he has now his dream of living a peaceful and domestic life with his sweet lover without any stress from higher-ups or anyone objecting to this relationship. Now he can just love you and keep you for himself. It's a very strange and questionable way of fulfilling his dream but he is at a point in his life where he has given up to feel guilty and doesn't care anymore. He's always been the strongest to satisfy his own clan and the higher-ups of the sorcerer world so he deserves someone for himself. Someone for him and him only.

🩵​He's a clingy monster and you should already know this as he has barely kept his hands to himself during the entire time since you've known him and that has only grown worse the stronger his obsession got. There is no question, you are going to sleep with him in one bed from the moment you are imprisoned in your new home with him. He isn't even listening to your protests and complains and you'd better not provoke him unless you want to see him dropping his light-hearted facade. Seeing him asleep disturbs you but not because of his clingy behavior and tight hug he always gives you nor his surprisingly deep sleep but because he looks so terribly vulnerable. White hair covering his eyes, soft breaths escaping his lips and no teasing expression adorning his face. It's even worse when he initially wakes up and blue and sleepy eyes stare at you as he whispers, no, pleads you to never leave him. It breaks your heart a little.

Geto Suguru

🗻​​Suguru has broken your trust severely when you realize what he has been doing all along, abusing your trust and ignorance to his own advantage until you made him your most trusted person and told him all of your thoughts. Now you're here, imprisoned and surrounded by jujutsu sorcerers who share his views. You're a lesser being in here for being a non-sorcerer and you know that secretly most of the people here look down on you but only show some level of respect because you're Geto's precious love or whatever he's feeling for you. No one tells you what's really going on but you are smart enough to understand that those people possess very special powers and that something is always watching you even when you're all by yourself. So you never misbehave, aware what would happen otherwise.

🗻​He isn't over the fact that he's fallen in love with what he hates the most even after an abduction so you are sleeping elsewhere. A tiny room with a futon as if to rub your lesser position in your face but truth be told, he's doing this mainly because he secretly wants your warmth next to him at night. He's just trying to reject his desires as he doesn't want to fall too deeply into his infatuation but it's already too late to turn back and perhaps you're more surprised than anyone when one day he tells you you'll share a bed with him from now on. You even vocalize your confusion but shut up when he throws you a sharp glare, silencing you as he himself doesn't want to answer your question. Vocalizing his needs would only make it harder to brush off as something less after all. Geto doesn't want to show too much affection but subconsciously he always fails as his half-awake form always pulls you closer to his body, always desires to feel your warm body safely held against his own as his long hair tickles your neck and face.

Nanami Kento

💛​Here we have a man who is trying to be his most respectful to you after an abduction that he has been planning for a longer time now after a triggering accident, most likely something regarding his very protective feelings. He isn't scolding you for being scared and even lets you insult him all you want with a frightening calm expression on his face, only really stopping you if you try to escape, hurt him or yourself in which case you see his face flashing in anger and slight frustration as you realize how scary he can be if he chooses to be. He gives you space as much as he can but even then his presence is felt throughout your entire new life as you realize that Nanami apparently enjoys taking care of you to the point where he's being controlling with it. There's a certain schedule to your life now, one that he has prepared specifically for you.

💛​This even includes your bedtime as you have to be at a certain hour in bed and get enough sleep and have to get up at a certain time in the morning. Nanami isn't forcing you to share a bed with him though as he graciously prepares another room for you to stay and sleep in. So it's a decision based on consens after your abduction to sleep with him and he's another case of showing his emotions in a very controlled way whilst being deep down just relieved that the worst phrase of the abduction seems to be over now. His sleeping schedule is just as meticulous though so both of you go to the bed at the same time and stand up in the morning at the same time. Nanami is also another candidate who needs a bit longer until he falls asleep because he's also thinking a lot when he lies in bed and only silence surrounds him. He has always an arm wrapped around you but the grip isn't too tight for you to not be able to free yourself if you should ever feel the need to visit the toilet. He is a bit more of a sensitive sleeper though so try to be quiet if you don't want to wake him up.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Dark! Yandere! Leon Kennedy Headcanons

Warnings: 18+ (just to be safe), Possessive Behaviour, Obsessive Behaviour, Mention of Plotting, Mentions of Smut, Non-Explicit Depictions of Smut, Mention of Dirty Talk, Mention of Overstimulation, Mention of Choking, Mention of Power Imbalance, Mention of Manhandling, Mention of Aftercare, Dominant! Leon, Rough Leon, Feral Leon, Paranoid Leon, Leon just wants Validation <3, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You'.

SFW

Possessive doesn’t even begin to describe how Leon acts around you.

Territorial may be how you describe him to your friends – a compliment, really.

But the fact that he never lets you out of his sight and worries about you whenever you’re not in his immediate vicinity is…telling, to say the least.

Calls you every 30 minutes on the rare occasion that you’re not together.

“Are you okay ?”, “Are you hurt ?”, “Do you need me to come over ?”

Paranoid aaah Leon.

But he means well – you know that much.

Once, you joked that the two of you “Might as well move in together if we’re going to talk this much !”

And that started putting ideas in Leon’s head.

He does have the notion of staging a break-in at your current home address so that you’ll feel unsafe and be more likely to move in with him.

But he doesn’t want you being traumatised like he is. Not by his hand.

But can you blame his rather questionable behaviour ?

After everything he went through in RE2 and RE4, you’d have been surprised if he didn’t turn out the way he had.

Despite all that, he’s a good boyfriend :>

Does anything and everything you ask him to, without question.

Scarily loyal.

And he expects you to be the same.

That being said, he doesn’t get jealous, as such.

Rather, he believes that the guy who’s been glancing at you every minute or so is planning on attacking you.

Not on Leon’s watch.

Scary dog privilege. Though your ‘scary dog’ is rather pretty; he just has an intimidating glare and figure.

Due to this paranoia and constant anxiety about your health and wellbeing, Yandere! Leon prefers an S/O who’s reclusive, one that doesn’t venture beyond their home very often.

It makes it easier for him to survey you, makes him feel more at ease knowing that you’re tucked away someplace safe.

Well, not entirely safe. Leon firmly believes that you can never be entirely avoidant of disaster unless you’re with him 24/7.

Not sure if you’ve noticed, but Leon has a *sliiight* saviour complex.

He wants to feel strong and dependable – to counteract all that the events of RE2 forced him to feel.

While this manifests in his wild daydreams about saving you from some undead horror straight out of a zombie movie (or real life, in Leon’s case), this manifests in more subtle situations in your day-to-day life.

He’ll open a jar for you, or reach something off the top shelf (regardless of whether you can reach it or not).

Don’t ask how he knew you were going to have trouble opening that particular jar, or that you wouldn’t reach your favourite mug that was placed a few shelves higher than it was yesterday.

It makes his chest swell with pride and strokes his ego.

But, as much as Leon likes it when you’re dependent on him, he does want you to have a fighting chance if the unthinkable should happen – that he’s not around to save you.

He tries teaching you self-defence, which, while you appreciate the thought, you tell him is unnecessary.

Yes, you know (vaguely) about what happened during Leon’s missions (though he is typically quite scant on the specifics, not wanting to worry you or drive you from him, as selfish as he believes that desire is).

But when you tell him that “I don’t need to know self-defence,” and Leon, cautious, asks ‘why ?’ you hit him with an answer far better than anything he’s fantasised about. And trust when I say that Leon has fantasised about you. A lot.

“Because I have you to protect me !”

As well-intentioned and innocent as your statement is, something within Leon breaks. Snaps.

NSFW

He has you under him quicker than you can blink.

His territorial, possessive nature filters through into the way he claims you – marks you.

He doesn’t bite you, though.

Years of trauma with the snapping jaws of zombies has put him off the idea.

But he sucks bruises into your skin, goes harder than intended when he turns feral, gripping your thighs, your arms, your sides – anything accessible to him.

And though he tries his best never to hurt you, he does end up losing himself whenever he gets like this.

Not that you mind.

His lips dip beside your head, and you can hear him say “You’re mine. All mine,” as he holds your body hostage.

He has a lot of endurance and an abundance of excess energy (usually emotional), so he ends up overstimulating you a good deal of the time.

Just pounding into you long after you’ve finished, his face buried into your neck, breathing becoming uneven as he works another euphoric release out of the both of you.

Say his name and he’ll go wild.

“Say it again,” he pants, his chest to yours as he takes you. “Tell me I’m the only one who can protect you – the only one who– aah! –you love–”

I understand why people say Leon’s a switch with bottom lean, but consider that time in RE4 when he said that “Following a lady’s lead just isn’t my style,”

You can’t say that there isn’t at least a remnant of top energy in there.

Hence, Leon – at the very least Yandere! Leon – can be quite…dominant.

As evidenced above.

Also evidenced by the fact that he gets off on the fact you’re weaker or smaller than him.

Doesn’t matter how tall you are, how much muscle you have; Leon is stronger both mentally and physically.

Though, this is somewhat of a guilty pleasure. But he has no problem letting you know what he’s thinking.

“God, you’re so weak,” he says, voice straining with his release hanging over him.

“Say it – say you need me; that I’m the only one who can take care of you, who can make you cry like this,”

Maybe he grabs you by the throat. Maybe he chokes you a little when you’re taking too long to answer.

But, regardless of how rough he can get, Leon is a certified King of Aftercare™.

Feels absolutely abysmal if he thinks he’s hurt you, or pushed you too far.

And your part of the aftercare is purely emotional. You have to convince him that you’re fine, you’re happy. And maybe enjoyed being manhandled a little…

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 3

Michael Myers + Drugged and/or captured.

This is a spiritual sequel to the bondage/shibari Michael Myers prompt from last year’s Kinktober. This is a shorter one, cuz ya boy is busy with his studies 🤓

Pretty sure this counts as dub-con, so like, watch out for that ig.

Kinktober 2023 masterlist.

A year had passed since your last run in with Michael Myers, one year since you had panicked and tied him up and left him on the floor of your living room. And one year since he escaped the very moment you looked away. You had been on edge all year because of it, as Michael had never been found or caught, his killing spree even seemed to come to an end for the time being after he had left your home. This didn’t stop the entire population of Haddonfield from worrying as the next Halloween night approached.

Most who could afford it left the town for the week leading up to Halloween and afterwards, but you, like many, could in no way afford a two-week holiday. Your run in with Michael wasn’t a secret though, so the day before Halloween your manager had sent you home early and told you to return a few days after the holiday. It felt like they were signing your death warrant, but it also made sense to keep the murder count down if Michael was gonna come for you again this year.

Ever since the past Halloween it had been impossible for you to sleep, to the point where you had been prescribed sleeping medication. You didn’t want to take it the days leading up to Halloween, terrified that you wouldn’t be able to wake up in case Michael showed up again, but as you sat on your couch already feeling like a corpse you were regretting that decision.

There hadn’t been a single report of murder this year though, so at some point in your sleep deprived delusions you’d convinced yourself all was safe, popped your meds, and fallen asleep in your bed still completely dressed. But maybe you should have listened to your paranoia more, as not long after you had gone to sleep a familiar slow-moving shadow snuck through your house, heavy footsteps approaching your bedroom where you laid splayed out like a starfish, a pool of drool already forming on your pillow.

Michael could only give a small head tilt as he saw your unconscious body, unsure of what to do. Part of him had hoped for a repeat of the last year, as the feeling of your ropes holding him in place had never left his mind, awakening a different kind of hunger than his usual hunger for blood. Even as Michael crawled up onto the bed, his bulk causing your bedframe to creak in complaint, you barely twitched.

Michael panted under his mask as his hands shook, feeling an unfamiliar churning in his abdomen as he dug through your drawers, pushing aside knickknacks and different toys you kept laying around, pulling out a colourful rope similar to the one you had used to tie him up with last year. His work was nowhere as skilled as your own, but it worked in securing your arms above your head, leaving them out of his way as his wild strength tore your clothes to ribbons.

You vision swam as you woke up, your body felt too heavy and sluggish like it always did when you woke up with your meds still in your system. Normally youd only wake if you really needed to go to the bathroom, something you were pretty sure you did in your sleep most days, but this time it was different. Something heavy was bearing down on you, and as you tried to move you found your arms strung up above your head. But most noticeably was the wet heat around your length, tight and insistent. Even in your sleep addled mind you could sense the strong thighs boxing in your hips as the persons rough hands groped at your torso.

The half coherent part of your mind was sure this was all a dream, even as your vision cleared for the most part, though it was still blurry around the edges. Because how else would any of this make sense. Why would Michael Myers of all people be riding you like his life depended on it, knocking the air right out of your chest as his bulky form weighed down on you. It wasn’t the weirdest wet dream you’d ever had, and you were pretty sure you had overheard somewhere that fear could lead to lust.

He wasn’t moaning, which saddened you somehow, even as he panted and gave small grunts when you would rub against his prostate. Had this all been real, you would have grabbed his hips to show him how to hit that spot every time, but it seemed in your dream your arms were tied, and the sluggish nature of your body made it hard to even roll your hips up into his.

It was only when his hands wrapped around your throat and you could feel yourself become lightheaded that it hit you that this might be real, as your hips started to ache from the speed of his riding and your vision started to swim from lack of oxygen and not just the meds in your system. The orgasm rolled through your entire body, starting from the top of your head, and running all the way down to your curling toes as you groaned sluggishly. You were sure drool was running down your chin at this point.

You would first realize the next morning that Michael came just as hard as you did, as he didn’t seem to have cared to clean you up afterwards. He had been polite enough to release your arms though. Your hips were killing you all day, who’d have thought having a guy Michael size ride you like a wild horse would mess up your back so much. It was only as you sat eating breakfast that it hit you that it had all really happened, and you needed to sit with your face in your hands for a bit, trying to fight off the heat it created in your abdomen, trying to ignore the small hope that hed return again tonight.

[i520u]

ᵎᵎ 𓏲 ❛ you are in love

TAGS ◝ sfw, fluff, drabble

PAIRINGS ◝ anton x gn!reader

SUMMARY ◝ anton doesn’t know that he’s in love.

NOTE ◝ i was in my feelings this was based off you are in love by ts

Shyness was something he can never rid himself of. He was also tall, which makes the combination between reserved and tall intimidating to other people. Anton was grateful for his introverted behaviour for most of the part, he doesn’t really enjoy being in the centre of attention. He liked to keep his thoughts to himself, and he hated when people went, “huh?” when he speaks because his voice is so soft.

He’s grateful for the way he is, except for one thing. His shyness completely stops him from approaching you.

He thinks you’re amazing. He wasn’t exactly sure why he would think you’re amazing, he just does. You’re always so radiant when you enter the room. He adores the way you would whisper with your friends during classes, giggling and gossiping – doing everything but paying attention to the teacher. In a way, Anton realised that he was also not paying attention, but his case was different. He admires that you would never shy away from anything, like you’ve got a heart of steel. He knows he could never do what you do.

He doesn’t think of you as his crush, he didn’t believe that it was ever that serious to him. Even if he did think it was serious, he wouldn’t label you as something as fleeting as a crush. You were so much more than that. Anton could never label you under any existing ones, he just knew that you were more than what he could utter with his words.

You don’t talk to Anton much, he was just another classmate to you. However, you also wonder why you always find yourself attending his swimming competitions, constantly cheering him on. Maybe it was because you just wanted to support your classmate. Maybe you were drawn to him, but you don’t even realise it.

Whatever it may be, you never really thought about it for too long – you’ve always been supportive. Anton knew it too. You were the only person he’d ever search for before and after his competitions end. And you were always there. Always.

So, when you weren’t there for the first time, Anton was haywired. He couldn’t focus under the water, he could barely breathe once he was out. He wasn’t frustrated by how badly he had performed. Hell, he wasn’t even affected from seeing his low scores, he was frustrated that you weren’t there. Why weren’t you there?

His mind started racing with more awful thoughts. His world was quite literally collapsing. Did something happen to you on your way here? You always came by yourself, and it wasn’t impossible that something could’ve happened to you. He was upset now, not with you – but with himself. He wasn’t sure why.

His mind raced with awful paranoia about your whereabouts once they announced the winner. He had lost the competition that day. But he didn’t care about any of that. Where were you? Did something happen? Or, have you simply gotten bored of watching him?

His mouth was dry as he walked out of the place with his silver medal, panicked-stricken. He wasn’t sure why he worried so much, but he didn’t care for the reason. He just needed to see you in person, or hear your voice. He needed to know you were okay. He was fine if you told him that you were bored of watching him, he just needed to be sure that you were okay.

Anton didn’t have your phone number, and he could only see you next week, Monday. He couldn’t wait that long.

It was like a black void was surrounding him as his worry grew and grew. 

Then, “Anton?” His eyes perked up to the person standing in front of him, the familiarity of your voice instantly washed away every single worry he had. His eyes were wide as he stared at you, his mouth was slightly agape. “Y/N.” He breathed, “are you hurt?” He asked, he needed to be sure.

It was an unusual question to ask to a mere classmate that you barely talk to, but you also noticed the genuine worry in his eyes, the pained expression. He was restless as he waited for your response. “I’m not.” You kept your voice soft as you talked to him, “I’m sorry, it seems like I missed the match this time.” You sighed, you looked apologetic, your eyes trailing at his silver medal, then to the hand that was gripping it. His knuckles were white.

Anton could feel himself let out a breath of relief, his muscles relaxing. He had been holding his breath, and he didn’t even notice it. “You’re here now.” He blurted out, he wasn’t even sure what he had just said to you. There was a long pause between you and him in the quiet corridors. Anton was freaking out, he wondered if he had said too much. “That’s all that matters to me. You’re here.” He ended up saying.

You could hear it in the silence between the two of you as you processed his words. He is in love.

[prettyboykatsuki]

give yourself up, my treat | h. sakura

✮ tags ; afab + fem!reader (referred to as girlfriend, descriptions of makeup and nails), implied to be shorter than sakura, omorashi, piss!!!! / wetting, humiliation, lots of crying / embarrassment, praise kink, somewhat public, femdom, depictions of subspace, d/s dynamics, like... soft loving sex as aftercare but this is honestly pure kink lol sorry, 18+

✮ wc ; 4.6k (i dont want to talk about it man)

✮ a/n ; this is piss kink. like. full stop. full stop omorashi. im warning you now that this is piss kink to the highest extent. srry sakura . finally let him top and it was after making him piss himself. rip

also!! while sakura is describing how shameful he feels he is doing this all very willingly. they have a safeword but sakura does not feel any need to use it.

✮ synopsis ; sakura lets you push his limits any way you please.

Sakura listens to everything you say. Like some kind of moron.  

Can’t help himself really, as much as it irritates him to admit. 

That’s always just been his instinct. Any time he finds himself in unfamiliar waters, he leans into that as much as possible. He’s survived a long time by trusting his intuition and a longstanding distrust of other people. It speaks a lot to someone's character usually if Sakura is even mildly inclined to trust them.  

He isn’t sure if it’s his intuition that drives him to follow your order without question, but it’s a strong enough pull he finds he can’t help himself even when he so, so badly wants to resist it.  

It’s not Sakura’s fault. It’s not really yours either.  That’s just how you’ve always been. How its always been. 

(Once, well before you and Sakura were a thing - Nirei had made an observation about you. Called you disarming. Suo laughed and agreed before adding that it felt a little misleading to describe you that way even if it was true. 

 You had just moved into the area after a disciplinary case in your hometown. You’d beat up another student who was bullying your friend, got expelled and moved out on your own after the fact. Cut ties with your family and everything.  

Despite the general air of mystery around you, there was  something about you that Sakura felt pulled him in. For some reason, you never triggered his fight or flight even when it was way easier to do it. For some reason you made him comfortable, always knowing his limits and rarely teasing him even for laughs.  

An undeniable magnetism to you appealed to him a lot more than it repulsed him. ) 

Over the years, Sakura has mulled a lot over your relationship. How you approached him at fifteen with a cool, carefree attitude that left him uselessly infatuated against his will. How you took your time in getting to know him for years. Later, how you confessed. Roped him into the relationship so seamlessly that by the time things happened for real, Sakura felt totally unnerved by how inevitable—how deliberate you were about it right from the start. Something that occurred to him too late.  

You’ve always been good at placating his many troubles too, even when you’re the cause of them. His lingering paranoia, his serious attitude, his inability to deal with compliments. You handle all of it with such grace it’s like those parts of him don’t even exist. Maybe it’s because you went through something similar to him, but you understand all of it well - though you dealt with it in the opposite way he does.  

Your carefree acceptance has proved to have a good influence on him. He’s less anxious and more relaxed around you. He always feels like listening to you, and always does - and after dating for four years, he’s rarely mad about it.  

Sakura always listens to everything you say because some part of him is conditioned too. His body does it instinctively, placing more trust in your words than he does in even himself. You’ve built that in him. 

As troublesome as you can be, you’ve yet to lead him astray.

Embarrassing as it is, a long relationship has instilled a sense of obedience  to you and his… love for you that runs deeper even than his intuition.  

That’s why, when you tell Sakura to— 

“Drink,”  

—he does it without hesitation.  

He drinks another cup of tea in one gulp before wiping the corner of his lip as you smile at him very briefly.  

He no longer feels a clear sense of how much time has passed, despite the fact he’s currently very sober.  

Cramped against the wall, Sakura’s head spins as you lean your weight against his other side and chat with Umemiya over drinks. An airy smile on your lips and gentle look in your eye. Damn you.  

His chest heaves as the thick, warm air enters his lungs and stifles his already difficult breathing further. Dim lights overhead cast shadow underneath the table and only barely illuminate the topside well enough to see the remnants of a long night. Empty glasses, canisters of beer and shochu as well as a variety of small plates cleared of everything apart from stray crumbs littering its surface.  

Around him, his loved ones part into small groups and chat amongst each other. Sakura has no idea what the topic of conversation is anymore. He hasn’t heard anything other than the sound of your voice in his head for an hour and hasn’t spoken up for the last thirty minutes. When someone tries to call him into conversation, he mumbles something before you speak for him and no one bats an eye at this for which Sakura’s fucking grateful.  

It’s so hard to think of anything when his bladder feels this painfully full.  

His head is filled with white noise, red flush crawling even further along his neck until it dusts along his nose - up to the ends of his ears. Under the table, your fingers drift subtly to his inner thigh and push inward. Sakura winces, biting back a pathetic little whimper and glaring at you weakly from the corner of his eyes.  

This is torture.  

You aimlessly draw something in his thigh with your fingers before smiling gently as you nudge another cup of lukewarm tea his way. Leaning in while your conversation partners are all distracted by ordering something else, you whisper into his ear. The light warmth of your breath makes him shake, painful pressure in his abdomen steadily increases as the liquid starts to travel down his throat. Your hand is careful as it slides underneath his black t-shirt and lightly grazes his skin. It’s dark enough to not be obvious. The dull ends of your manicured nails scratch lightly at the soft, lower swell of his belly before the pads of your fingers push hard into his core.  

His body gives into the pressure, eyes widening with fear at the sudden sensation. He barely stifles a gasp before shooting you another mean look you easily ignore.  

“Haruka,” You hand him his cup again, filled to the very brim with liquid. “Drink some more tea,”  

He grits his teeth. 

“Fucksake. I can’t—I can’t.”  

You raise an eyebrow as your hand smooth down his thighs. Your lips quirk up into a smile so smug it nearly rocks him out of his anger.  

“Is that right?”  

A test. He’s always welcome to give up. He knows that. He knows that if he does you won’t hold it against him either. You want him to do it because he wanted too, always. He hates that about you.  

Sakura grinds his teeth and takes a hold of the ceramic tea cup, knocking the lukewarm tea back in one go. Your expression morphs into something pleased and endeared from the corner of his eyes and his heart starts to flutter. He isn’t sure if he’s thankful or not for all the people around, for the environment.  

It gives you free reign to lean even further into him and whisper the words he’s been desperately aching to hear all evening.  

“Good boy,” You hum, careful and deliberate. A innocent kiss gets placed on his cheek, the lipgloss dampening his skin. “You’re being so, so strong.”  

The words him melt him unwittingly. From the top of his head to the tips of his toes, the rush of affection threads through his nerves and unwinds his sense of danger further. Enough that he might slip completely. He has to hold it until the clock hits midnight. Just until then. You’ll take a cab home and Sakura will relieve himself finally, finally. It’s seventeen more minutes until he can go home and empty his bladder. He can’t screw up now.  

This is the first time you’ve made Sakura hold in public. You’ve always been considerate enough to do it at home where the safety net of your mutual understanding and familiar bathroom are there even if he fails to keep it in. Even if he pissed himself in your living room or in your bedroom - it can be dry cleaned or tossed. Most of all there’s no one to explain it too.  

In public it’s different. He could pretend that he’s  drunk and while it wouldn’t be less fucking embarrassing  - at least it’s understandable. Sakura is sure that’s part of the reason you chose a place like this do to attempt such a public play. To give him the out, just in case.  

But regardless, the shame and humiliation of not being able to hold it in front of everyone he knows is a threat. It’s just so goddamn embarrassing. So horrible and awful. The anxiety makes his stomach churn but he can’t focus on a damn thing else.  

He has to go. He has too.  

He always whines about how much he hates this but you both know he doesn’t entirely mean it. It’s not that he likes this miserable sensation, as much as he likes how you get off on it. How sadistic it turns his unusually kind and light-hearted girlfriend.  

 You’ve always relished in Sakura’s shame like the freak you are. Pure pleasure on your face and absolute adoration as you watched Sakura break apart slowly and guide him through it with hushed whispers. Watching  the light color of his jeans or joggers stain dark from wetness or watch him be jostle around enough to almost piss but not enough to give him actual relief.  Teasing him until he trickles and makes his own boxers damp enough to be uncomfortable—to be cognizant  of the fact he’s pissed himself helplessly while not being able to take care of it on his own. Not without your explicit permission. 

You’ve done all sorts of play together. Usually, you have and indoor date and movie night where Sakura knocks back a few liters over of water over long few hours and gets increasingly desperate. And you get him hard during that, always sure to tease him until he’s just on the edge of wetting himself.  

You always shower together afterwards. Yet, you don’t hesitate to touch Sakura’s soft, piss soaked cock with reverence either way. Quick to praise him, whether or not he’s failed or succeeded in holding it. Despite how shameful the whole thing is and how much he protested it at the start  - some part of him deep, deep down can admit he sort of likes it. Or at least, he likes the pleasure he gets from you when you take the reigns.  

It feels good, though he really resents even kind of admitting that. The relief from holding and holding and holding and then finally getting to let go is just as good every time. Pissing himself always feels good in the moment.  

And you’re always so aroused by him after. He likes that way more than everything else being frank. Likes the way you get wet over his humiliation. Likes how softly you stroke and lick his cock when he’s all cleaned up, eyes lidded and full of pure love as he gets to cum too  - another reward for holding in so well. He loves the warm whispers of good boy against his neck and shoulders when you finally sink down on his length and the way you feel when he holds you in his lap and buries his face into your shoulder.  

All of that feels so much better when he does what he’s told and he likes listening to you. So even though it’s usually against his best interest in conditions like these - he bites his tongue and continues to drink until he feels like he’s sating your appetite, silently ignoring the ballooning in his bladder only getting worse with each pass of breath.  

And he drinks, and drinks, and drinks until the clock hits midnight.  

You’re deliberately brutal in the last seventeen minutes. In that time, you make Sakura down at least another half liter of liquid and continue to tease him all the way until the izakaya closes. He’s antsy by the time the night ends. His friends slowly disperse outside and go home in different directions until it’s just the two of you waiting for a taxi to come pick you up.  

Sakura is counting the fucking seconds.  

He needs to go,  but he doesn’t want to piss himself in the taxi. His legs are crossed, shifting his weight anxiously as you hold his hand and smile plainly like nothing in the world is going on. 

Another two minutes until the cab arrives, another twelve to go home. You hum to yourself as you reach your hand up and caress the back of his neck,  palm brushing the trimmed hair and sliding slowly over his rapid pulse and flush skin. With no one around, you don’t bother hiding your intentions. You slide your hand just into the waistband of his black jeans, just above his soft cock.  

His brows raise high as your eyes lock.  

And then you push at that angle - push hard enough he feels a slight trickle. Not enough to stain his light-wash jeans, but enough that the fabric of his underwear is noticeably damp. Sweat forms at his temple from a mix of stress and shame - eyes screwed closed as he curses. He’s afraid to look at you but does anyway.  

You’re smiling just as warmly as he thought you’d be. His voice cracks under the weight.  

He thinks this is the hardest it’s ever been. The pressure is so much stronger when there’s stakes and Sakura is mildly horrified. And he has to go so bad, so bad he can’t think of anything else.  

“Fucking—,” He crumbles, feeling shameful and red faced and lightheaded as he admits this to you with trembling lips and terrified eyes. “Dunno if I can make it home, I need to - “  

You stand in front of him and push up slightly to kiss him. It’s a nice distraction. Your soft, sweet lips salve his nerves just a touch. You gaze up at him lovingly.  

“It’s okay baby, promise. Home soon.”  

The words of protest die on his lips. Despite being taller than you, Sakura finds himself feeling so incredibly small. So incredibly helpless and so, so dependent on you in that moment he hardly knows what to do with himself. It usually takes him longer to get like this. You’re the only that can bat for him if he really does wet himself. He’s doing everything you say, being obedient, chasing after the familiar high of the aftermath and it’s sinking him so deep into that headspace. He feels suspended in air.  

He grips your hands a little tighter and you smile at him. His brows furrow.  

“Wanna hold me a little baby? On the way home.”  

He nods feeling as tender as ever and you nod back, kissing his temple.  

“Mm. Good boy. It’s okay.”  

He hides a whimper into your hair as he hugs you from behind, a light laugh leaving your lips when he does. Two minutes feels like two hours.  

The taxi pulls up not long after. You open the doors for him and talk to the driver, giving him your address. Something plays on the radio that gets turned up to give you and Sakura some room as the driver makes way. It’s a short, short drive over to your apartment. Just seven minutes.  

As soon as the driver steps on the gas, Sakura turns his gaze on you pleadingly. And you smile at him, shifting to lay a little against his chest. He buries his face against your shoulder in measured breaths as your other hand comes up to play with his hair.  

“You’re extra whiny today,” You whisper without any malice. A doting edge to your words. “Can’t help it can you? We’re almost home, baby.”  

Sakura bites back another whimper, mustering as much sense into his speech as he can though he hardly wants to talk. Hardly wants to think, either.  

“So close, Haruka. Just a little more and then you can go.” You nudge him with your nose “Such a good boy.”  

“So full,” The words come out hot, on a heavy breath as his hand grips your waist tighter. “Can’t—no more,”  

“Shh,” You soothe. The shared affection between you looks like normal PDA through the reflection in the drivers mirror and it makes him feel even more self-conscious. “Three more minutes, Haru. A minute or two to walk in. Two minutes in the elevator, and another two to get the door unlocked. Nine minutes. You’ve held it for so long. I know you can hold it in a little longer.”  

He grits his teeth and closes his eyes. “Tell me I’m good.”  

“So good baby.” You nuzzle against the crown of his head. “So, so good.”  

The next few minutes feel like a complete blur.  

One more light until the driver pulls into the parking lot of your complex, politely wishing you goodnight before pulling away. Sakura nearly has to lean on you as you walk into the empty elevator and take the trip upstairs. His grip on your hand is tight as you lead him through the corridor, grips even tighter as you fish your keys out from your purse and unlock the door.  

The sound of the lock undoing makes Sakura feel so relieved. You usher him in carefully, his thighs tight and knees nearly buckling from the pressure of his bladder. He’s so full it’s painful, so full it aches and it’s so much he can’t think about anything except that and how much he wants to be free from it. He's delirious and sweaty. He just needs to go so badly.

He tries to rush to the bathroom but jostling around while he walks doesn't work out well.

A looming sense of panic sets in immediately.. He knows what's coming instinctively - the uncontrollable relaxation on his muscles when his body has reached his limit. He looks up at you pleadingly, though he’s not sure what he’s even asking you for.

He can’t think.  Barely moving as something starts to unfold inside of him, crashing into him all at once.

It’s obvious that he’d start to feel the urge to piss when he's comfortable at hom, finally in his own space but— 

He shakes his head, looking at you with blown out eyes.

“I can’t,” He hiccups as he shuffles closer and closer to the living room, teary at his lashline Trying his best to get to the bathroom and failing. “Can’t make it to the—fuck, please, I can’t. It’s.—It’s gonna, I’m gonna  -“  

Your eyes widen in understanding as you crouch just at the entrance alongside him, petting his back.  

“Oh sweetheart,” Your voice is the softest, sweetest sound he’s heard all night. “Poor thing. Shh, it’s okay baby. Let go. It’s alright, I promise. You did so good.”  

Something in him...breaks. Shatters.

His eyes go wide before they blur with tears and piss leaks from between his legs unwittingly. 

Sakura is reduced down to sobbing. His whole body shudders so hard, he’s knees buckling under the weight as the pressure finally stops. He can’t help but listen, even though he’s so, so ashamed of himself.  

Fuck. Fuck, it feels so good.  

Sakura finally, finally lets go. He crumbles under his own weight, shrinking down to his knees as he feels it soak through the layers in a hot rush between his legs. His clothes dampen and drench as he lets out long breaths. You card your fingers through his hair as he sobs through the endless stream. It feels like it’s never going to stop. He can’t open his eyes to look but he can feel the puddle forming underneath him, how it soaks into his jeans and shoes and makes them wet. How ashamed and humiliated he feels being completely unable to stop himself from wetting himself. It flows and flows and flows, testament to just how much he had to drink.  

The entirety of his pant leg is soaked with his own piss and mess. Embarrassment makes him curl up as he’s unable to stop once he starts. It goes on for so long. But it feels so good to let it out. The sheer sense of relief is more of what’s making him sob than anything else.  

Piss trickles down his legs as he heaves through deep breaths and short sobs. He feels your hands cup his face as you bend in a squat, unconcerned with the way it splashes against your shoes or tights. When he finally gets his vision back as you swipe his tears away, you’re looking at him with such reverence he wants to cry all over again.  

“You did so good baby,” You praise, warming him. You kiss him on the lips first before brushing against the crown of his head. “So good. You’re so perfect. Let’s get you cleaned up, hm? Give you you your reward.” 

He sniffles as he stares at you. “You’re such a damn pervert.”  

You laugh a little. “Mm, that’s true. Sorry, baby.”  

__  

Clean-up is always less of a hassle then he expects it to be.  

Maybe because you have a routine for it now, but it doesn’t take very long at all. You do most of the heavy lifting during it which only worsens the feeling helplessness Sakura has been experiencing for the last few hours. He doesn’t make any effort to get away or out from that headspace, though it dies down with time. The promise of a reward has been the only thing keeping him level for hours now and he’d be damned to let it all go to waste after he worked so hard.  

After a long, warm shower and change of clothes  - Sakura finally gets what he wants more than anything.  

Affection and attention.  

In the safety of your bedroom, Sakura feels particularly floaty as he holds you in your lap. Lazy and worn out, he nuzzles himself against your neck as he feels your naked torso squish against his. He’s too embarrassed to tell you verbally like this that he loves you and hopes the nuzzling does the job for him. 

Your nails feel good on his scalp as you card them again through his wet hair. Your skin smells nice too, and you’re soft and warm. The mellow thump of your heartbeat soothes him as you shower him in endless praise. It’s usually impossible for you to do this. Only when he’s bone tired like this do you get the chance.  

Too embarrassing to let you do it unless he’s worked hard for it like he did today.  

Sakura feels his length slide against your pussy and lets out a soft noise. You’re always so wet during this kind of play. It makes him feel wanted in a way he finds cringeworthy and doesn’t dare voice. Still, he doesn’t mind the feeling - aimlessly sliding his hips up and against your slick folds with a huff.  

You do him the favor of moving. Copying the gesture by sliding yourself up and against his cock without penetration. His fingers tighten on your hips, cock painfully sensitive as he whimpers. Pre-cum leaks from his tip, weepy and spent and red as he humps against you even harder - lost in the sensation.  

“Wanna cum like this Haruka? Don’t need to ask permission.”  

“Nghh.”  

He nods wordlessly as you grind yourself down harder onto him. His tip passes over your clit enough times to make you sigh pleasantly, and that sound drives him over the edge. Thick ropes of white cum spills against your soft pussy as Sakura moans and shudders  violently. Despite how close you are, he can’t help but feel like it’s not close enough.  

Maybe you sense it, because you do him the favor of sliding yourself onto his half hard cock without so much as another word. It’s still not enough for him, but it sates him better than before at least. He wraps his arms around you hard and squeezes tight. Just for a little while.  

He scowls a little as he looks up at you, sobering up enough to form a sentence after spending some time hugging you. “Have you cum yet?”  

“Don’t worry about it, baby.”  

“Shut up,” He replies with no bite and a scowl. Another flush crawls across his face. “I can make you feel good too.”  

You raise your eyebrow. 

“Sounds like you’re declaring war not trying to give me an orgasm. I’m glad I made you feel good though,” You add cheekily. He flusters immediately, instinctively getting aggressive but not wanting to shove you off of him even as you break out into a fit of laughter.  

“Fuck off. I d-don’t feel good doing that weird shit with you. I only do it because - “ 

You interject. “Because you love me? That’s a better reason to you? How sweet Haru.”  

He frowns deeply.  

“Be quiet, you—don’t put words in my mouth, damn it.”  

“Pfft, okay. I’m sorry. I hope I’m not pushing you too much.”  

He huffs a little, pouting as he goes back to pressing his cheek to your skin. His voice is a touch softer than it was before.  

“I don’t do things for bullshit reasons. Stupid.”  

“I’m glad, then. Even so, you had a tough time today hm? So I’ll let you fuck me as much as you like. Just do whatever you feel like.”  

“I wanna…return to the favor or whatever.” He says after thinking on it. “Just… wanna make you feel good too. Like….” His voice goes small “…You make me feel. Or whatever.”  

You smile at him. He can feel it, not see it. He’s avoiding looking at your face since he’s sure you’re all goofy and loveydovey.  

“The floor is all yours. No rush though okay? I like spoiling you and we’ve got all night.”  

Sakura scowls, casting his gaze down at the bedroom floor. “….I love you.”  

You smile and press another kiss to his head. He feels so content he wants to die. Your reply comes easily anyway.  

“I love you too, Haruka.”  

[cherie-doll]

☽COD Characters + Mythical/Monster/Weirdos AU☾

𓆣 Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

No one's ever dared to venture further past the crossroads. Anyone who goes beyond the rusted metal fence that marks the passage the lumberman takes never comes back. You don't got much of a choice but to take the hike when your car breaks down in the middle of the woods. Surely, the feeling of prying eyes watching as you tremble and make your way past the fence and through the lonely road is only your paranoia. Oh, what a convenience! The lumberman who introduced himself as John invited you into his cabin. You'll ignore the dark stains of old blood on his porch steps for the sake of your body in need of warmth.

He who remained silent and shrouded in the dark. Who only saw the dazzling lights dimming as the calling of the audience faded out into the background. And you, standing in the center of an empty stage, staring into the dark. A shudder overcoming you and you feeling as if someone was watching you. Glancing towards the highest box, you knew he had watched your performance. You knew him as Ghost, he never let on more than this cognomen. He was the shadow that was always looking over your shoulder. The faint silhouette in the background of harsh and vivid stage lights. Here was his hand, resting upon your skin. The hand that would not harm you. The graze of an igniting fire burned under his skin, here his suffering had originated; from attachment, from desire. This craving he dared not to fulfill. He vowed to himself to feel it as deeply and express it as he pleased. Unfortunately for you, this ravenous hunger was long out of hand.

Johnny was dared to venture out and explore his town at midnight to prove the existence of the local folklore shapeshifter; you. Being the daredevil he is, he couldn't pass up on this opportunity. You were said to take form in many different ways; sometimes an animal like a raven, some force of nature like wind or water, and on rare occasions in human form. Your presence was very evident by the change in the air, the piling tension that caused his camera to turn off, his flashlight flicker and goosebumps break out on his skin from the chilling wind. He has no evidence of that night, despite standing before you in your human form. He's now set on proving your existence which causes a cat and mouse dynamic to form between you.

You assumed the man, Kyle, that you saw once on the riverbed had been swimming. Clearly, he's handsome. Only, his appearance is... alluring, drawing you in, luring you right into his hands. You don't even feel the scales as he caresses you, his hands going over the map of your body. He's already memorizing where all your bones are, takes notice of where the most fat is on your body as his hands mold and play with it. He can already imagine how soft your skin is, how easy it would be for his teeth to sink into the flesh. His seductive voice and gaze only serve to invite you to wade in the water. Maybe he'll toy with you, you seem so sweet and willing.

Having a roommate is a hit or miss. But what are the chances that roommate is deceased? Rarely does one get along with a dead roommate, but that certainly is not your case. 'Roach', as you called him, "because what type of name was Gary?" dwelled- er, haunted the college dorm you shared. At first, communication was difficult and arguments broke out often, resulting in broken and damaged furniture. Guess that's what happens when your first time messing around with an ouija board goes wrong. It also gets awkward when you wanna try and bring your girl or boyfriend over and you can't make out without acknowledging the horrified ghost in the corner.

You were a forgotten deity; your followers gone. You thought the portal between your world and the mortals was forever sealed, the entrance never to be opened again. Until, one day you're able to pass through to catch a glimpse of an altar made and dedicated to you by Alejandro. He's the most loyal devotee you've had in a long time; every night and every day he lights a candle to you and kneels to pray. Even if he doesn't have access to the shrine he's made for you, he carries one around in his pocket; a stitched image of you along with a symbol. He swears he can feel as you embrace him in your saving veil of grace and grant him protection.

Rudy's crush has gotten so out of hand the poor, sweet man doesn't know what to do with himself. He blushes and freezes whenever he's blessed to be in your presence. Anticipation building within the walls of his chest, antsy to tell you, to confess. If only that doubt didn't plague his mind. Would you be spooked by his way of life? Certainly, modern witches weren't being put on trials and burned anymore, but the social repercussions could be considered equal. Guess he'll go back to perform another manifestation ritual. Don't be surprised at the sudden fluttery effect you start to magically develop one day when you see him.

Having a vampire boyfriend has its benefits. The cons are few; while you're getting your life sucked right out of you, Phillip only seems to revivify and grow younger. He also has little to no self-control and he always holds his age and 'wisdom' over your head, using his 'better sense' to get you to change your mind. On the bright side, thanks to him you've started to save on using tampons + pads while on your period. He also keeps you in check and healthy by not letting your blood levels imbalance, after all, he feeds off of you. Loves going down on you whilst biting your neck and drawing blood. Something about being so close to biting an artery or vein that could spill too much blood and leading you to death yet he chooses not to.

You moved out to the south seeking for a tranquil pace of life. This town had a strange feeling to it, an underlying horror and emptiness; the effects of a ghost town. Under the silver moon one night, you come upon a field, a stretch of land with pasture stretching for many miles. The cattle guarded under the watchful eye of Keegan. The wind rustled the trees as they made a haunting whistling sound. Shadows seemed to dance along the edges of forest as he motioned you over to his campfire, his horse tethered to the log he rested his head against. His eyes captivated the soft glow of the moon as you listened to him speak of guarding this piece of land for many years. He coaxed you to get comfortable, to not leave right away, in fact, you could stay for as long as you wanted. And unless your senses catch up to you, you'd stay caged in this corner of the world, roaming as a ghost.

König couldn't bear to see you whither away as life was slowly drained out of you. Night and day he listened to your sorrows as you spoke of your fear of dying. You couldn't bear to rest in the cold grave, alone for eternity. The townspeople swore he must've gone mad when you died, he obsessed over you dead more than when you lived. He had installed a burial bell, slipping the rope into your lifeless hands. He refused to pay anyone else to wait the long hours of the day and night. Red rimmed eyes from crying, black circles from the sleepless nights, didn't even register the throbbing headaches. And could it be his delirium or did he hear the bell ring? He was quick to grab a shovel and start digging.

Gumiho Horangi who got close to you only for the sake of stealing your soul. He had been digging through the soil, searching through the foul smell of decomposing corpses to find a human heart to devour. You had been on the graveyard shift when he spotted you and decided he'd much rather prey on a living human rather than be contented with decaying corpses. A method of absorbing your energy resembled the act of kissing as he would open your mouth to inhale your essence. You became to know the true meaning of intertwined love when he planned to embed a 'fox marble' in your abdomen and therefore take all your energy. He, however, fell in love with you over time and vowed to never eat another human so he could become human and live with you.

Nikto always talks to the patients on his table, he thinks it helps them loosen up. They're always so stiff and cold when he takes them out of the freezer. When he pulls back the cloth covering your face he can hardly greet you as he's taken by your beauty. His gloved hands run through your hair as he gazes into your lifeless eyes. You're too pretty by the time he's done dolling you up that he feels sorry you'll only be placed in a box and buried six feet deep underneath the soil. He reckons you'll be much happier in a comfortable home, with someone to care for you rather than the cold cemetery where you're sure to be forgotten about. He swore you told him yourself!

[etfrin]

❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter twenty-three | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 NSFW | coriolanus snow, canon typical violence, canon typical death, oral sex (m. receiving), implication of committing murder | lmk if I forgot anything

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 coriolanus gets more blood on his hands, he also gets his cock sucked.

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 two more exams to go!! can't wait for it to finish! Make sure to reblog and give your feedback! <33

beta read by the birthday girl @nowitsmissing

masterlist | navigation

The next days of Coriolanus Snow are spent in constant paranoia. He avoided you and refused to make eye contact. He was simply so afraid of what was going to happen. Before him, you were much closer to Sejanus. Snow briefly wondered if you interacted with Sejanus because of the power his family held. But he quickly dismissed that thought. Surely you wouldn't have been so calculating since childhood.

District 12 was in chaos trying to find out what happened with Mayfair and Billy Taupe. Spruce had kept his lips sealed. However, he knew that won't be the case for long.

Sejanus Plinth would be dead. And Spruce would know exactly who is responsible. But Coriolanus thought that he would escape to the north before it happened. Lucy Gray was in a hurry too. She was the lead suspect as Mayfair was the reason she was in the games.

Today was the day the bodies were found. Rotten. It was a miracle it was hidden for so long. He had an inkling it was due to you. Because the bodies weren't found at the original place of murder but on the outskirts of District 12. People rarely go there.

The Peacekeepers were talking about it right now. Coriolanus carefully listened, trying to see if anyone had any knowledge of what had actually happened.

“They’re both locals, but one of them is the mayor’s daughter. The other one’s a musician or something, but not one that we’ve seen. They were shot dead.”

“Did they find who did it?” asked a Peacekeeper.

“Not yet. These people aren’t even supposed to have guns, but like I told you, they’re floating around out there,” another replied. “Killed by one of their own, though.”

“How do they know that?” asked Sejanus.

‘Shut up!’ thought Coriolanus. Knowing Sejanus, he could be one step away from confessing to a crime he didn’t even commit.

“Well, she said they think the girl was shot with a Peacekeeper’s rifle, probably an old one that got stolen during the war. And the musician was killed by some sort of shotgun the locals used for hunting. Probably two shooters,” Smiley reported. “They searched the surrounding area and couldn’t find the weapons. Long gone with the murderers, if you ask me.”

Coriolanus’s nerves unwound a bit, and he ate a forkful of pancakes. “Who found the bodies?”

“That little girl singer — you know, the one in the pink dress,” said Smiley.

“Maude Ivory,” said Sejanus.

“I think that’s it. Anyway, she freaked out. They questioned the band, but when would they have had time to do it? No guns were found, no prints either,” Smiley told them. “Shook them up pretty good, though. I guess they knew the musician guy somehow or other.”

Because of the past night’s events, the commander locked down the base for the day.

He and Sejanus floated around, trying to look normal. Playing cards, writing letters, cleaning their boots. As they knocked the mud from the treads, Coriolanus whispered, “What about the escape plan? Is it still on?”

“I’ve no idea,” Sejanus said. “The commander’s birthday isn’t until next weekend. That was the night we were supposed to go. Coryo, what if they arrest an innocent person for the murders?”

‘Then our troubles are over’, thought Coriolanus, but he only said, “I think it’s highly unlikely, with no guns. But let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Coriolanus came into your room that night. Ready to confess his sins and come clean. His mouth went dry when you opened the door. Your lips stretched into a lazy grin. “Hi, Coryo,” you said, as your hand was on the shirt, getting a grip on the fabric to pull him inside of the room.

“What did you do?” you asked him as you pushed him down onto the bed. You stood at the side, towering over him. Your arms crossed in front of your chest.

“I- I didn't do anything,” he said, “I missed you.”

You raised your eyebrows. “You fucked up. Real or not?”

“Real,” he muttered.

“Worse than murder?”

Coriolanus winces.

“Do you care about Sejanus?” He asked, hoping that the answer would be in his favor. He could feel his palms sweating, and he pressed his hands onto the sheets.

“No.”

Coriolanus blinks in shock. “No?” He questions, visibly confused, “But- but-”

“Is this about you sending the jabberjays to Dr. Gaul?”

Coriolanus managed a nod. In truth, he had suspected you would find out as Dr. Gaul seems to trust you. Which was one of the main reasons he wanted to come clean beforehand.

You let out a harsh chuckle, “Yeah, Dr. Gaul told me to keep an eye on the boy. I told her he murdered innocent citizens who were against the rebellion. You presented a death warrant to her, I signed it.”

You eye Coriolanus with a smirk. “You should know you can't keep secrets from me, baby,” you shake your head, “I don't know why you try when it's so obvious.”

“Sejanus Plinth and Spruce, the leader of the rebellion, will be dead soon. No need to worry about them, Coryo. Good job, Dr. Gaul is impressed, she sees your potential even more so than before.” you add.

“Is there anything else or…?”

Your eyes turn lustful as you begin to slowly check him out. His heart starts to beat faster, his blood rushing downwards. A tent quickly forms in his pants. It was from your heated gaze alone.

You tease him with a smile, “You're such a boy.”

“Shu- shut up! It's on you- it's because you're looking at me like that,” he whispered.

“Like what?”

“Like you'll eat me up,” he replied.

“That's the plan,” you whispered, as you went on your knees in front of him.

He lets out a desperate, needy noise at the sight. You looked so pretty like this. He spreads his legs, making up space for you. You bite your lip in anticipation. Your mouth salivating for his taste.

“Holy shit, dove,” he whines when your hand presses into his bulge. You palm him through his pants.

“So needy,” you murmur. “Do you want my mouth on you that bad?”

“Yes,” he gasps out, willing to beg. “Please.”

“That's a good boy.”

You unzip his pants, dragging them down around his knees. His dick is strained against his boxers. A wet spot on the fabric. It was clear how much pre-cum he was leaking. It was pathetic too. But you didn't blame him for it. You pressed your thumb on his clothed tip, and gently slid your fingertip back and forth, letting his sensitive slit feel the slick texture of the fabric.

“Fuck,” he curses, “Don't tease me.”

“I am not teasing,” you lie.

You pull his boxers down, letting his cock spring free from its confines. The tip is red, the veins on his length popping out, just waiting to be traced with your tongue. You don't let a second go to waste as you let yourself lick his slit. You hold his cock by the base, as you make sure to enjoy his taste like it's a lollipop.

You lick all over, slathering his cock with your saliva. You make sure to trace his veins before you find your way back to his tip. You take his cockhead inside the warmth of your mouth. Coriolanus groans, it took him an iron of will not cum right then and there.

You slowly take more of his length inside and he lets out a whimper. His hand rests on your head, trying so hard not to pull you forward and make you choke on his cock like you were supposed to.

His free hand fists the sheet, as he bites his lower lip to stop a groan from escaping. He could feel that he was getting close to snapping. “Fu-fuck,” he lets out, “Dove… that's so good.”

You continue to suck his cock. You hollow your mouth and he lets out a whimper, his hips bucking up. His cockhead reaches the back of your throat. Surprisingly you don't choke. With a moan of your name, Coriolanus could feel himself cum inside of your mouth.

You taste his salty, thick cum. Letting it coat on your tongue, some of it escapes from the corner of your lips. You pull away as his cock softens and wipe your mouth.

You sit down beside Coriolanus who is trying to catch his breath. He tucks himself in. “Thank you,” he said, “that was good.” You smile at him. Your hand on his cheek. You caress his face.

“You needed to relax, after all, you need to have more blood on your hands,” you said, your smile turning cruel.

“Lucy Gray?” He questions.

“Lucy Gray,” you confirm.

Coriolanus nods, “Yeah, I understand. She will be the only witness left except us.” Coriolanus takes a deep breath. “We'll need to find a way.”

“Let Sejanus die first. I can stay here for a few more days. I'll help you figure it out.”

Coriolanus agrees with you and turns to leave. Before you shut the door, you say to him,

“I was only friends with Sejanus because of you. Because you seemed to be close to him and I wanted to be closer to you.”

After everything, that's not a surprise to him. Though he feels his heart flutter. He falls asleep on his bed with a stupid, lovesick smile, momentarily forgetting about how red his hands are.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

The next day Coriolanus was instructed to stand in a squad flanking the hanging tree. Coriolanus knew why. He had already seen Spruce being dragged into the base. Likely to be tortured for information. Coriolanus knew he was protected by you, so there wasn't much to worry about. Sejanus has been missing since morning. He knew what that meant. Dr. Gaul had nailed his coffin.

The Peacekeeper van arrived and both Sejanus and Lil stumbled out in their chains. Sejanus Plinth was accused of treason. He was caught.

Arlo, an ex-soldier toughened by years in the mines, had managed a fairly restrained end, at least until he’d heard Lil in the crowd. But Sejanus and Lil, weak with terror, looked far younger than their years and only reinforced the impression that two innocent children were being dragged to the gallows. Lil, her shaking legs unable to bear her weight, was hauled forward by a pair of grim-faced Peacekeepers who would probably spend the following night trying to obliterate this memory with white liquor.

As they passed him, Coriolanus locked eyes with Sejanus, and all he could see was the eight-year-old boy on the playground, the bag of gumdrops clenched in his fist. Only this boy was much, much more frightened. Sejanus’s lips formed his name, Coryo, and his face contorted in pain. But whether it was a plea for help or an accusation of his betrayal he couldn’t tell.

The Peacekeepers positioned the condemned side by side on the trapdoors. Another tried to read out the list of charges over the shrieks of the crowd, but all Coriolanus could catch was the word treason.

He averted his eyes as the Peacekeepers moved in with the nooses, and he found himself looking at Lucy Gray’s stricken face. She stood near the front in an old gray dress, her hair hidden in a black scarf, tears running down her cheeks as she stared up at Sejanus.

As the drumroll began, Coriolanus squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could block out the sound as well. But he could not, and he heard it all. Sejanus’s cry, the bang of the trapdoors, and the jabberjays picking up Sejanus’s last word, screaming it over and over into the dazzling sun.

“Ma! Ma! Ma! Ma! Ma!”

Sejanus Plinth is dead.

It's Lucy Gray's turn now.

NEXT PART

[love-is-patient]

I have religious trauma.

I was raised in a household where my dad wanted to be God, and so characterized Him in a way that left me constantly paranoid.

God was a judge, God was a debt collector, God was a hammer waiting to strike.

My mother was likewise delusional to a point. She used religion as a manner of control, manipulating my egotistical dad and our chaotic little world so she could feel better about herself.

I was abused in the church. I’ve been so many churches since childhood I can’t count them.

I was told I was possessed because I was a child with adhd and couldn’t sit still in a pew. I was told that if I didn’t see visions or speak in tongues, I wasn’t saved. I was told that I must be thinking about God at all times or I wasn’t good enough. That I was lukewarm, unlovable, unworthy.

I was too afraid to take communion. I cried and turned away from the altar multiple times because I was a too dirty to touch the offering.

I was told so many awful things that I grew up with a persistent religious paranoia on top of my already anxiety inducing life.

So… why am I still a Christian, after all of that?

Stockholm syndrome, right?

It would be easy to write it off as that, but I did turn away from religion. In the back of my mind. I stayed cautious in case God was still watching.

It wasn’t until I got rid of the destructive influences in my life that things changed.

My perception of God changed when I left the awful people using His name in vain- or for personal gain.

When I grew up, learned to be discerning about the character of people.

Many people live under the assumption that I did- that God is a tyrant who is waiting for you to mess up so he can smash you and send you to hell. Paradoxically, that almost makes Satan sound preferable.

But that’s not who God is, and he doesn’t want people to go to hell.

Even if you haven’t had good parents, you’ve seen what they’re like. They get excited to share experiences with their children. The first taste of lemon, the first puddles to splash in. First words, first laughs, first steps.

God wanted that for us.

Satan got jealous after his rebellion in heaven. He saw God had something good and wanted it for himself again - even if it was just to spite God.

He offered humanity a choice and we took it.

We can debate why it happened until we’re blue in the face, but what matters most are God’s decisions afterwards.

Everything that has happened since the fall has been God trying to bring his wayward children back without force.

Just like when you see that friend of yours making the same bad decisions day after day, and you know their quality of life would improve if they just stopped. It’s heartbreaking, frustrating. You can give them all the advice in the world but they’ll just keep on doing the thing and complain to you about every headache afterwards.

Now you know a little what God feels like.

Only God is a little more patient than we tend to be.

God doesn’t ask much from us, not as much as people, which is weird to think about.

God doesn’t measure your worth by how good you are at your job, how badly you do in school. He doesn’t equate your value to how rich or poor you are, he doesn’t judge you the same way people do.

The first thing he asks of you is to love him and love each other.

He loves us so much that he opened heaven again if we ask for it.

He came down as flesh and blood in Jesus and took all the punishments we should’ve had. In Jesus death and resurrection, we have a way home.

All he wants for us to do is acknowledge that.

He doesn’t hate you if you can’t pay tithe. He doesn’t talk behind your back if you make a mistake. He doesn’t demean, debase, abuse.

Why am I still a Christian?

Because God was there for me when people weren’t.

God didn’t abuse me as a kid, people did, and used God as a shield.

God didn’t lie to me, call me names, break my things - my parents did.

God didn’t order me to do unbelievable things in order to reach him - my pastors and teachers did.

God didn’t tell me I’m unworthy - people did.

Even if you don’t believe in God, if you’re angry at him, feeling hurt and betrayed.

Maybe take a closer look and see if it’s really the people around you making you miserable, instead of an untouchable, invisible hammer.

[cinnamonest]

gaahhhh imagine gf reader trying to calm delinquent childe and get him to NOT traumatize and scar new boys coming to their school or later when in college when they need to interact with others more by being as nice and sweet as possible and giving him want he wants (attention, pussy and love). And they almost get like this bartering system and it doesn't help when childe slowly gets a hint that she might be trying to protect these guys- in which case, comes the step of trying to placate him again and convince him this is for his sake and not theirs after getting her own ass beaten by him and fucked to the point she thinks of amping the Pill intake or smthng

(Follow-up to this post)

I’ve been thinking about that AU again for a while, hear me out

Because, see, once you become “official,” he somehow gets worse, something you wouldn’t have even thought possible.

Your life doesn't actually change that much, it’s more that his presence just becomes so utterly and completely inescapable. You used to at least be able to retreat to the comfort of home after school, now you don’t even have that — he’s either forcing his way into your house or dragging you back to his, depending on which has the parents gone, so you can do stuff… or if neither works, he’ll drive you off to some of the nearby abandoned, empty parking lots instead.

He's very vocal about what he now perceives as an “official” relationship. Very touchy in public, even in a school setting. His actual behaviors don't change much — he still steals your things and dangles them over your head, startles you with loud noises, taunts you and humiliates you at every opportunity… now he just does it with extra enthusiasm, like it makes him even more excited than it did before. And you like it, he knows you do. And at this point you've given up on getting the cigarette stench out of everything you own — your clothes, your bed, your car, even your hair. Ugh.

But he becomes so very on-edge, far more aggressive than ever before towards the rest of the male student populace. He’s definitely got a major cheating paranoia, like so many young guys, where he’s so ready to jump to that conclusion over everything. You didn’t respond to him for a while, what were you doing? Why are you smiling at your phone, who are you talking to?

Before, he was a source of frustration and anger and misery, but you never really felt scared the way he often makes you feel now. He was mean, a bully, but he was smiley and clearly deriving amusement from it — a contrast to the sudden serious glare and cold, dark tone and expression when he gets mad, when he grabs you so hard you can’t pull away and demands a minute-by-minute play of the day for the duration of time he couldn’t be glued to your side. It takes an alarming amount of reassurance to calm him down.

You do essentially end up bartering with sex. If you’re lucky, and he’s not too upset, you can just distract him from whatever is making him mad with kisses and smiles and a few reassuring words. But in most cases, you’ll at least have to take your clothes off to really appease him and calm him down, and usually have to spend the rest of the day giving him your completely undivided attention. Giving him lots of cuddles and kisses and pussy and head and affection and all that, just for him, to prove you really only care about him, no interruptions. Even answering texts from your friends and family will have him scowling and sulking again. Why are they more important to you than he is? Do you really even care about him at all, when you’re so easily distracted?

And oh, the moment you try and defend some poor boy, have the audacity to try and get him to not hurt someone, it’s over for you. Nothing sets him off faster.

Rather, it comes in stages — he gets mad, hauls you off somewhere alone if you’re in front of people, holds you by the jaw as you struggle and writhe and asks in some mixture of bewilderment and frustration why you’re doing that. Why would you be upset that he’s protecting you? Why are you mad at him for beating them up? Do you care about them? If you don’t like them, why concern yourself with what happens to them?

If you keep reassuring him, he’ll calm down, but if you keep insisting that he can’t be violent, he gets whiny, petulant, grumbly… and most importantly, he just ignores you and does what he wants anyway. Even if it upsets you, it’s not like that's going to stop him. He just blows off anything you say, completely inconsiderate of your feelings on things.

Even then, sometimes, the situation gets bad. Times where you can’t just calm him down, because you did something exceptionally bad — you fell asleep and didn’t answer him for hours, or you very clearly talked to that guy, he knows, he heard the whole thing, or someone told him (at this point, some of the other students have started telling him they saw you talking to someone or hugging some guy or something to set him off for their own amusement).

Those incidents are the worst — late-night explosive episodes where you’re interrogated on why you spoke with someone or the texts on your phone, as you flail and whimper and claw at the hand on your neck while you desperately try to defend yourself. Those are the times where you genuinely start to feel scared. But even then, with enough effort and appeasing and sex, it’s resolvable... though you may end up with some bruises across your body, or in a few cases, your neck and face... you can just both skip school and stay in bed all day until it's gone. Other people would get the wrong idea if they saw it, they wouldn't understand. As long as you comply with what he wants, it's easily resolved.

Until, one day, you cross a line.

You're just so sick of it all, deep into yet another long argument over him really badly hurting some poor kid who did nothing wrong, and in the frustration of the moment, the words come out of your mouth.

You say you’re leaving him. That you want to break up.

You regret your words, of course, the second they leave your mouth. Even before you see the stages of reaction play out on his face — a second or two of blinking in dumbfounded, blank shock, and the way his expression turns dark — you feel your gut twist in panic.

And you try to sputter out some apology, to backtrack, to say you didn’t mean it, but your feet have already left the ground, you’re already flailing and grasping at the hand wrapped around your throat and hoisting you into the air, before you can even get a full sentence out.

You don’t get to do that to me.

His grip gets tighter with those words. It’s quiet and cold — you’re pretty sure it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him speak quietly, for that matter, but you're too preoccupied with panic to reflect on that.

But you don’t mean it. He knows that. You just said something stupid because you wanted to make him mad. You just wanted to get his attention. You’re being manipulative, trying to control him with threats. You’re being a really bad girlfriend.

You don’t mean it. You’re not being serious. You just said it to get a reaction.

Right?

And see, you nod so vigorously, and you even have tears streaming down your face as you choke and gag. You must feel guilty for saying something so mean. Everyone says things they regret in arguments, right? Just the heat of the moment makes people say stupid things. But as long as you feel guilty, he can forgive you.

You crumple forward on shaky legs when you’re dropped down, more of less falling into him, hands grasping at his shirt — how cute, you’re trying to get reassurance now. You stiffen and shiver at the embrace you’re enveloped by, the arms that wrap around your frame.

...You know, you'll need to figure out something for your neck. It’s already starting to bruise, and it’s very clearly marks from fingers wrapped around… you’ll have to cover it up, you wouldn’t want your parents thinking he’s a bad person or anything.

But’s okay. He’s mature enough to forgive you and move on. And so long as you give him more attention and makeup sex all night, he’ll pretend it didn’t happen… for his own sake too. Just never ever ever say something like that again, and he won't hurt you... not too badly, at least.