#but even if I were the only one who thought that

[snarkspawn]

hi hello lucanis with his hair up has me in such a chokehold you have no idea but also THE WAY HE'S PROPERLY HOLDING THE KNIFE has me curling my toes in the carpet friend hoo boy. Thank you for this blessing.

lmao yes!! listen that man may have 99 problems but knife skill issues is not one of them ok

Also, you're very welcome haha I'm still going a little insane about it as well, so here, have this quick sketch as I try (and fail) to get it out of my system

[scribeofmorpheus]

Why Dragon Age Veilguard isn't a "Cathedral"

Concept art by Matt Rhodes

"To disinherit the storylines of past games goes directly against the notion of building cathedrals."

What is inherent with Veilguard that keeps bothering me is the fact that the world's choices truly didn't matter--and it doesn't simply bother me from a player perspective, it's not simply a grievance borne of frustration to what I (as a longtime fan) have lost. It's about the very culture of the arts under capitalism's new media habituation cycle [x][x].

Yes, I spent hours of my life playing and replaying each instalment of Dragon Age. Yes, I painstakingly curated a 'canon' world state by replaying what came before in preparation for Veilguard. Yes, I am even more unsatisfied with the end product--time hasn't helped, it's just widened the divide. But, and I can't stress this enough, these very personal gripes aren't what hit home the most. It's the inherent disregard of legacy. A legacy that the previous writers and game developers were building towards.

In the DAV artbook, "cathedral" is the word used to describe the process of making a game. Matt Rhodes' exact words are: "One artist can make a painting, but it takes a team to build a cathedral." Cathedrals took centuries to build. The architect who drafted the first blueprints would likely never see his work realised, he had to rely on those who came after him, like-minded and passionate, to see it through--for the culture, for the future, for legacy. Painters took on several apprentices for this reason too--giant frescoes were not completed by one man's hand, even if it is one man's name that immortalises them. Similarly, if you weave a narrative around choice, what good does it do to take it away at the final act if not to fall to caricature?

To disinherit the storylines of past games goes directly against the notion of building cathedrals.

Late-stage capitalism and profit-margin-obsessed game producers forcing developers to churn out meager content, to make a known brand into something it's not, to chase a fad or a popular trend... o, how reductive and cliche you've been forced to become Bioware. We have lost the cultural thought patterns relative to Cathedrals. We know only of barn-raised churches--done in a day but unlikely to last the turn of the seasons.

And don't even get me started on the music of Veilguard either. From Origins to World of Warcraft to Everquest to Baldur's Gate to Dungeon Siege, you can hear the intricate interconnected weave of sounds inspired by the Dungeons and Dragons-esque fantasy genre. You hear it in the repeated use of certain instruments, in the harmonic weeping notes of a bard-like singer or the foreboding echoes of drums as if of war. In tavern songs. But then, rather than hire someone who loves these worlds and this genre, who is a hungry artist looking to make a name, a legacy if you will, for themselves with a spectacular score, you hire any already sated composer, one well-into the encroaching years of career fatigue, whose notes repeat in countless projects, who feels less concise and more uninterested with each new project. One who has long since cemented his legacy. Someone in it for a paycheck and nothing else! And, to top it off, you let him compose something so minimalist? I am offended actually.

Cathedrals! We should have witnessed the final tile being placed on the Dragon Age cathedral. Instead, some architects walked up, tore down the interior and installed IKEA furniture and called it authentic before having to call the previous architects to come and fix the "load-bearing issues", forcing them to rush and add a coat of varnish and a few 'aged' details for authenticity.

[poguehearted77]

Co-Star Confessions

Pairing: Actress! Reader x Drew Starkey

Co-Star Confessions-> The cast takes you along on a trip to take a lie detector test for an interview. The jokes are rolling and the tea starts to spill.

Summary: A lie detector, a dark room, and unspoken tension pull you into a whirlwind of revelations, where secrets are spilled, emotions run high, and your growing romance with Drew becomes impossible to hide.

Belongs to my: OBX Season 5: Payback for Maybank Series

These can be read in any order!

"Okay be honest, who else went on a deep dive of doom last night and watched all of Blackbox's previous interviews?" Madelyn turns from her place in the passenger seat, facing you, Madison and Chase so you can hear her question clearly.

All hands go up. The anticipation is high and circling in the car. Today the cast has split up into two cars as you're being shipped off to another studio to record an interview with Blackbox.

"Some of those questions were brutal, and you're hooked up to a lie detector so there's no chance you can avoid the truth." Chase lets out a weighted breath, his mind running off with the possible questions they could ask. There's a small sprout of fear blossoming around the possibility they'll pry open closed doors about his and Madelyn's break up. 

The concept is simple: Prior to the interview, Blackbox has done their own research and collected some surface-level, intermediate, and mildly invasive questions that the fans of the show are circulating online. One by one, the cast will sit in the empty black room with no one but the polygrapher and a lie detector, the questions get asked and if you're telling the truth you get a point, if you're lying you lose a point.

The castmate with the most points at the end gets to ask any co-star any question of their choice.

"I can't believe I let Madison drag me into this." You scoff and all she does is smile bright and innocent. It took some convincing of the producers but she's very persuasive when she needs to be.

"We're family now. If we go down, so do you." Chase holds your hand and gives it a condescending squeeze. "I take that as a threat." You snatch your hand away and everyone laughs.

As you arrived, it seems the car with Carlacia, Drew and JD had beat you guys there. Their driver was already pulling off the lot, telling you the others were inside. You got out of the car behind Chase and adjusted your clothes.

Today, your stylists had picked out a white long-sleeve shirt layered under a sleek black vest, paired with a gray mini skirt, black sheer tights, a small shoulder bag, delicate gold acccesories, and a sleek pulled-back pony-tail for a perfectly polished look.

You could already hear the chatter from the studio from out in the hall as you entered the room behind Madison, more chatter erupting as the full cast is reunited. You did your rounds to greet the others you hadn't been riding with. "You look great," Drew compliments as he briefly rests his head atop yours during your hug. You fit in his arms as perfectly as a puzzle.

His pathetic instincts allowed him to take a deeper breath to get a stronger pull of your gentle perfume that intoxicated his mind. "I don't remember getting a compliment from you this morning!" Carlacia accuses him playfully and he laughs along before flattering her endlessly and you thought it was cute.

There’s no denying it. From the very beginning, you and Drew have danced around the unspoken tension, the sparks that have lingered just beneath the surface. But lately, those sparks have started to feel dangerous, like a fuse waiting to ignite. The two of you can’t be left alone for long—what starts as two chairs between you inevitably narrows to one, and then, before you realize it, none at all.

One second you're both rehearsing lines in the studio-b trailer and the next you're passed out on the couch side-by-side. Even though that only happened once, it was more than enough. You've blown through nearly two-thirds of filming the final season and it was easy to consider Drew one of your closest friends, both on and off-set.

There were late-night phone calls, early morning face-times, minimal texting since he hardly replied to his messages but lots of heated glances that shouldn't make you feel as hot as they did. Like right now.

Madelyn is currently removing a piece of lint that had fallen onto your hair from god knows where, meanwhile, you pretended you couldn't feel Drew's deep gaze from behind Madelyn's head, but you shook it off. You had to.

It wasn't long before you're all being ushered to take your seats in the black room, getting ready to record your introduction which will be the only time the whole cast is in the black room together for the interview.

"We're the cast of Outer Banks and welcome to Blackbox." You all say, introducing yourselves personally then retreating to the holding room where there are five chairs, a one-way glass looking into the black room and a microphone.

The assistants spun a wheel which decided that JD is the first one up on the chopping block. "Keep the questions pg-13, please. I've got family that's gonna see this." He pleads, letting himself be strapped into the chair and hooked up with the various components of the detector. Meanwhile, you took the seat in the holding room between Carlacia and Drew.

"So he really can't see us?" Madelyn questioned, waving to JD through the window, but he was unresponsive. "All he sees is a mirror, but when you use the microphone, he can hear your voice in the speakers in the room." One of the cameramen explains and you all nod along.

"Okay, Madelyn, you're first to read the questions. Pick up one cue card from the surface-level, intermediate and invasive stack and project your voice into the mic." She's directed but you all listen for when it's your turn.

Madelyn: "JD, What's your favourite memory from filming season 5 Outer Banks so far?"

He jolts a little in his seat, not expecting to hear Madelyn's voice so clearly in a room where he can't see her, but he answers nonetheless.

JD: When Chase and I were rehearsing that scene where we have to hang-glide off a cliff but Chase's hands slipped and he misses the bar, and he just goes falling to the foam platform like twenty feet below us, but it wasn't even that. It was the scream he let out. I still think about it.

"He's telling the truth." The woman informs.

Chase has his head in his hands while you and Carlacia hold onto eachother, laughing until you're gasping for air.

Madelyn picks up the top cue card from the intermediate pile.

Madelyn: Which castmate are you closest to?

"Oooh." There's a collective sound that sweeps across the studio, it made everyone uneasy, not because of the question. It's a difficult question and everyone knows there are no hard feelings involved but if this is an intermediate question then you should all be nervous.

JD sighs, "You know what-- Unstrap me." He pretends to grab at the wires and it elicits a round of laughs while he thinks about it.

JD: This is hard. I feel like I have such a different relationship with everyone, but..... uhhh... If I had to narrow it down, I guess probably Madelyn.

There's a long silence, everyone waiting for the polygrapher to confirm or deny. "He's telling the truth."

Madelyn: "It must be fate that I'm the one asking your questions. Luv ya. Now, for your final, invasive question. You recently implied in an interview that you're seeing someone, is that true?"

Your hands clasp over your mouth. "Brutal," Carlacia whispers under her breath while you and Drew lean over the edge of your seats as if you didn't already know the answer to this question.

"No." He denies it, another stomach-churning silence. You can see the nerves rolling down JD's face as he waits for the results. "That was a lie." The crew is making some indistinct noise while the cast is stunned to silence. None of you were going to make it out of this interview alive.

JD's head falls with a guilty grin, dreading the news this would spread in the press. He almost immediately unlatches himself from the machine and enters the waiting room with the rest of you, sending in Chase.

"That shit is intense. It's just so dark, and ominous, and you've got a spotlight on you. Makes you feel like you're on trial for a crime you didn't commit." Drew stands to give him a pat on the back, "You did good, man. Hopefully Maya isn't too blindsided by that last question."

Maya is JD's secret girlfriend, official as of last month, you've met her a handful of times but you clicked almost instantly and often texted on Instagram and shared reels.

The game went on, and the questions didn't get any easier. You watched as you all trickled in and out of the rooms, getting paired off in an order something like this:

Madelyn asking JD

Drew asking Chase

Carlacia asking Madelyn

Chase asking Y/N

Y/N asking Madison

Madison asking Carlacia

JD asking Drew

There's an acrylic nail poking your shoulder and you shudder. "You're up," Carlacia informs you and you nearly vomit. The questions have been ruthless thus far, you honestly wonder how and why the producers approved this.

"Hey Madison, this is for you." You hold up your middle fingers, regretting ever letting her get you involved in this bloodbath. She blows you a kiss and wishes you luck.

Chase: "Y/n-"

You're not sure what it is about it, but you and Chase have had enough bloopers on set, that this felt no different, even though you couldn't see him, you broke out in laughter. Before the mic cut out you heard Chase's abrupt laughter cut through.

This is how you two always were. Unable to keep it together. The directors hated when you had a scene together (even though they'd laugh too). "Okay okay, I'm sorry. I'm ready." You reassure, "That was a lie", The polygrapher debunks your confession and it sends everyone rolling for another five minutes due to its spontaneity.

"Okay. For real this time." You clear your throat, waiting for Chase to start with the questions.

Chase: "If you weren’t acting, what would your job be?"

"Ooh, I love photography, my phone is always gonna be in your face, and I've got like a dozen cameras. So, probably a photographer." You answer. The question is light, but it doesn't erase the uneasy feeling bubbling in your stomach. "True."

Chase prepares to move on to the intermediate stack of cards, shuffling them, just for fun.

"Here we go," Madison leans over to JD, they both knew there were bound to be some wild cards for you and Drew. Ever since your casting as Piper was made public not too long ago, the fans immediately flocked to find all your socials.

The rumours between you and Drew were already starting to spin. All stemming from one photo added to one of Carlacia's many photo dumps a few weeks ago. The image is of you playfully feeding Drew a strawberry from when you'd all done some sightseeing and visited the local Portuguese farms.

Chase: "Fans noticed you recently reposted a TikTok that said, 'When he’s tall enough to climb like a tree>>'—was that just for laughs, or did you have someone in mind?"

Your hands raise to your face and you scream, Madison screams, JD laughs, Madelyn kicks her feet while Carlacia gasps--Simply put, the cast is overcome.

Drew straightens a little, now more intrigued than ever (as if he wasn't before). His eyes sparkle with hope? Interest? Certainty. A subtle wave of confidence runs down his spine as he confirms to himself that you're talking about him. You both know it, and you've never been so glad that you couldn't see his face.

"My TikTok account is private how did they even-?!"

Chase: "Answer the question Ms. Y/n."

You could hear his smirk through the mic. Oh, he was enjoying this too much. You made a mental reminder to send Kelsea all the worst images that you've taken of him. "It was just for fun," you shrug.

"That was a lie", You knew it was coming, honestly, but at least you tried.

Chase: "You've recently been cast as the lead in a new rom-com called The Love Equation set to release in 2026, congratulations."

Chase prefaces the question with the recent news that was unveiled to the public merely a few days ago. It was a very recent endeavour of yours.

Not long after you started filming for Outer Banks, you'd received a call back from this project and filming was set to start a little after the OBX premiere which is a little less than three months away.

"Thank you, thank you. I'm very excited and grateful for the opportunity." You say, pretending you weren't dreading the question that's soon to follow. Chase's flattery made you nervous, regardless if he was just reading what was on the card.

Chase: If you could pick any castmate to star alongside you in a rom-com, who would you pick?"

Drew's jaw locks at the question. His grip on the arm of the chair tightens subconsciously as he watches your every move. From the way you looked up at the ceiling, pretending to think to your left foot pacing an unsteady rhythm.

All while Madison was watching Drew, a small smile creeping up on her lips. She needed no further confirmation from the two of you, your body language was loud enough. To her, at least.

"Drew." You say nothing more, nothing less. You don't want to fan the flames that fans have already sparked to life from a simple picture. "She's telling the truth." Yeah, obviously, but you don't say that out loud.

The time seems to fly now that your turn had passed and finally, it's Drew's turn. Deep down you've been waiting for this all day, but if you're being honest, you're a little scared for him.

Drew has one of the biggest and most blunt fanbases of the cast. You've seen how they can get sometimes, you've read the TikTok comments and seen the X threads. Hopefully, nothing gets taken out of context or blown out of proportion.

JD: "What’s your favorite way to unwind after a long day of filming?"

His lips pucker a little in thought, and it dawned on him. "I recently got gifted like, an ungodly amount of bubble bath, but I've actually been using them lately. So, I'll say a nice, hot bath, yeah."

The polygrapher confirms that his statement is in fact true and the round progresses.

JD: "If you had to be stuck on an island with one of your castmates for 24 hours, who would you pick—and what would you two do to pass the time?"

Drew fights the grin on his face, "I'd say Chase, we would go hang-gliding-" He's hardly able to get the sentence out before he's interrupted by his own cackles.

Chase adds his own thoughts into the mic, "You know what, Drew, fuck you, okay?" Chase states before returning to his seat while Drew chokes over his laughs to deliver an insincere apology. "That was true." The room erupts with more laughter at that.

JD: "Your final, invasive question, have you ever secretly dated or hooked up with someone from a movie/show you've worked on, including this one?"

The entire studio goes pin-drop silent. Madison's hand reaches out to hold yours, for comfort, or maybe support? Your eyes are glued to the window that shows a nervous Drew, the most nervous you'd ever seen him. He's starting to sweat.

The two of you have never hooked up, but now you're curious. You would get to find out if he's gotten involved with other girls he's worked with before. Was everything he did just an act? Was it a thing he did with everyone?

"I have not." He answers.

There's silence.

The polygrapher is doing it on purpose, you're sure of it.

...

....

........

JD turns around to face you all and whispers, "Guys, I'm literally shaking for him. Look!" He held out his hand with the card, and it showed a true reflection of his words.

"That is..." She drags out the verdict.

The anticipation got so bad you've all somehow ended up standing, you all might as well press your noses up against the glass.

"True."

The cheering is loud when it swallows the holding room. It's almost shameful how much of a weight you felt lifted off your shoulders at the declaration. Drew is the only one to have told the truth for all three questions, giving him 3 points. He wins.

"Now, Drew. You get to ask any co-star any question you'd like." One of the crewmates instructs as they had you all lined up in the room under Drew's judgement. He stalked along, looking everyone in the eyes, yours lasted a little longer than he was willing to admit but he eventually stopped on Madison.

"Madison, Madison, Madison." Drew taunted in the mic and she rolled her eyes with an all-knowing grin.

Drew: "Not too long ago you were disrespecting my childhood delicacy, the uncrustable. Now, there are rumours going around that you've been seen with them lately, is it true?"

Small giggles were let out around the room. Drew is unbelievable.

"Yes." Madison whispers, looking off to the side.

Drew: What was that? I'll need you to speak up.

Madison: Yes! It's true. Satisfied?

Drew: Very. No further questions, your honour.

You all film the closing sequence, reminding the audience the final season will be released on Netflix on August 30th and September 25th, 2025.

You're all making your way out to the cars. The original groups naturally switched up as you all jumped into the car with people you were in conversations with as you left the studio. This time it's you, Drew, JD and Madelyn.

"Wow, that was lowkey worse than I thought it was going to be." JD admits from the passenger seat and you snicker. Without even realizing it, your head was laying on Drew's shoulder, feeling the sleepiness begin to settle in after an eventful afternoon.

"All that drama genuinely drained the energy from my body." You yawn, and Drew subtly shifts so that you'd find more comfort in him, and you snuggle up just a little more. This is a feeling he could get used to.

Taglist: @percysley, @lilithblackkk, @rafegf-real, @eternallovers65, @drsza, @wearemadeofstardust0, @cadhlabear, @thepopcultureaddict, @citr0us, @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account, @madi44444,@willowpains, @riaras-everthroner, @iteuosav

[foxy-eva]

Touch Starved

Summary: Finally being close to Spencer makes you emotional

Request: Touch-starved Reader who hasn’t been with anyone in a while and her and Spencer get to the dating stage where they start experiencing that and she gets all emotional about it

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

Content Warnings: Nervousness, cuddling, heavy kissing, happy tears

Word count: 1.1k

Masterlist

The silly organ inside your ribcage didn’t calm down no matter how many deep breaths you took. It threatened to jump out of your chest even before you knocked on Spencer’s apartment door, beating so loud you could barely hear your own thoughts. 

It’s just a movie night, you told yourself when you finally announced your presence with a firm knock on his door. 

Of course it was more than that and you knew it. After having many wonderful conversations with him over coffee and dinner, he invited you over to watch a movie together after you mentioned you had never seen one of his favorite films. 

Spencer had been the perfect gentleman on your dates, tentatively hugging you and waiting for you to initiate a kiss when you said goodbye. However, you hadn’t found the courage to actually do that so far. Brief embraces were all the physical contact you’d let happen and even those were almost too much for you to bear. 

“Hi,” Spencer said with a sweet smile on his face once he opened the door. 

With an even wider grin, you answered, “Hi Spencer.”

Stepping aside, he mumbled, “Come in.” 

Just like on your dates before, he pulled you into an innocent hug. Even though you desperately yearned for his nearness, you were glad he let go of your body after just a second. Otherwise he would have been able to feel the erratic beating of your heart. 

He helped you shed your coat before he motioned for you to take a seat on the couch. A glass of water and some snacks were placed in front of you before he plopped down beside you. You felt his eyes on you as he scanned your body language. 

“I’m just a little nervous,” you awkwardly laughed before he could ask if you were okay. 

Locking eyes with you, he wondered, “Why? We’re just watching a movie.” 

“It’s just been a while,” you tried to explain. 

He seemed confused. “Since you watched a movie?”

The way his words were laced with innocence let your heart jump. You realized that when Spencer invited you to watch a movie, he had been candid. There were no ulterior motives to be found, he’d be perfectly happy to just sit an arm’s length away from you all night if that was what you wanted. 

“No,” you snickered. “Since I was alone with a man in his apartment.”

“Oh,” he said when he realized the implications of his invitation. “I uhm… that’s not what I…”

“I know,” you interrupted him. “Don’t worry.” 

Your words were genuine. Spencer had made you feel so safe and comfortable unlike any man before him. The reason you were so nervous about tonight was because you knew you’d combust if you didn’t initiate physical contact soon. Every fiber of your being was craving his touch and you couldn’t wait to finally feel his lips against yours. 

“Okay,” he said and turned on the TV to start the movie. “I promise, it’s really good.”

It only took a few minutes for you to be able to relax against the cushions of the couch. Halfway through the movie you started to shiver slightly as you noticed that Spencer apparently kept his apartment cooler than what you were used to. Before you could say anything, he had already noticed your discomfort. 

“Here,” he said as he reached for a blanket. “You seem cold.” 

Carefully, you placed the blanket over your body before you looked at the man beside you. 

“What about you?” you asked as you lifted the fabric to offer him some warmth. 

Without saying anything, he accepted your invitation and scooted closer to be able to place the blanket over his legs. There was barely any space left between the two of you, a fact that let your heart pound loudly inside your chest once more. You decided it was now or never and leaned against his arm. 

As if it was the most natural thing in the world to him, he placed his arm around your body to pull you even closer until you were curled into his side. 

“Is that okay?” He softly spoke. 

“Yes, it’s perfect.” 

The truth was that being close to him was mesmerizing. Breathing in his scent while basking in his warmth clouded your mind and you felt like you could get drunk on the sensation. When Spencer began gently brushing his fingertips along your arm, your entire body started trembling ever so slightly. 

It was almost embarrassing how intense your reaction was to his touch but you couldn’t help it. Your current position only let you be satisfied for a few minutes until you craved even more of him. It became impossible to hold back any longer. Sitting up beside him, you caught his attention. He loosened the hold he had on you to allow you to move while he found your eyes. 

“Is everything okay?”

“No,” you said with a playful smirk spread over your face. “I really want to kiss you.” 

“Yeah?” he cooed. “I would like that, too.”

Trembling fingertips found his jaw to brush over his skin before you leaned closer, gently nudging his nose with yours. His breath felt hot against your lips in this moment of anticipation. When he finally closed the remaining distance, a relieved sigh escaped your throat and was muffled by his mouth on yours. 

Feeling his soft lips against yours broke any restraint you had. You kissed him with a fervor that knocked the air out of his lungs, even more so when you climbed into his lap, not allowing any space between your bodies. He welcomed you on top of him without hesitation, his hands flying to your hips to pull you even closer. 

Your hands found the nape of his neck, intertwining your fingers with his hair to tug on his curls every so slightly. With your chest pressed against his you could feel the erratic pounding of not only your heart but his as well. It was as if the two organs were trying to make contact with their counterpart hidden underneath all these layers of fabric, skin and bones. 

Spencer whined and tried to pull back for air but you didn’t let him. Feverishly, you kept kissing him until a saline taste found its way into your mouth. 

“Hey, what’s wrong,” he breathed as he leaned back, concern laced over his voice. 

His hands moved to your face, wiping salty droplets off your cheeks. You hadn’t even realized you had been crying and began giggling as you rubbed the tears away from your lashes. 

“Sorry,” you sighed. “I’m just so happy to be close to you.”

“So they are happy tears?” Spencer asked and you nodded. 

“I know it’s silly, it’s just been so long since I’ve been close to anyone,” you confessed. 

“It’s not silly,” he softly spoke. That was when you noticed the glimmering in his eyes. “I’m very happy to be close to you, too.” 

Thank you for reading! Please like, reblog and leave a comment to show your support and help me stay motivated to write more stories!

Taglist: @adoredfromafar @grumpyy-bearr @frickin-bats @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @xserenax-13 @alexxavicry @samuel-de-champagne-problems @evvy96 @reidsbookclub @lover-of-books-and-tea @nomajdetective @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @castiels-majestic-wings @spensreid

[beloveds-embrace]

Fuck it, we ball, I hope that disrespectful anon gets hemorrhoids and they can't get them removed until next year, AND that their insurance doesn't cover it. I'm here thinking about your Omega idea where omegas normally do the pursuing, but with a slight twist; the boys being the omegas. An alpha who is for sure down bad for the boys, but thinks "ah, theyre out of my league, I should be aiming lower, manage my expectations". Only 141 is just as down bad for them, and they're doing everything just short of screaming "PICK UP ON THE HINTS, COME INTO OUR HOUSE AND BEDS AND LIVES AND STAY FOREVER PLEASE"

Johnny is about to say fuck decorum and just show up in reader's house wearing nothing but a ribbon and a tag that says 'free to a good home' (your home is the good one, please keep him, there is no receipt so you can't return him).

Price has the brain cell normally in terms of trying to gently coax you into getting you to say you're into them, he has a 15 step plan that may or may not involve using his various contacts to get you spending more time in close proximity to them. Also he for some reason is always baking, he always comes over asking you for sugar? (He'll take any kind of 'sugar' you're willing to offer, he loves making a variety of cream pies)

Gaz is always gently inviting them to attend 'friend' things, things that could be a date but that he can excuse as 'well we're coworkers/friends/neighbors, we should get along :)'. It's just a coincidence that various other people seem to bail except for any of the other boys, now why don't you sit beside him so you guys can share popcorn at the movies (you both always seem to be reaching for it at the same time, if your fingers touched anymore you might as well be holding hands)

Simon is chasing off any omegas he thinks are a threat to them getting reader, that is THEIR alpha, paws OFF (rip to anyone reader was halfheartedly going on dates with, this man is gonna become those people's sleep paralysis demon)

Hope you enjoy!! :3 💕💕 i lovedddd writing this sm omg

See, the thing is, you’d always thought of yourself as a decent Alpha. Not overbearing, not egotistical, not a demanding freak- just capable and steady. But you weren’t extraordinary. Not the kind of Alpha Omegas like them would look at twice. And so, while you worked alongside the men of Task Force 141 you convinced yourself to be content with just admiring them from a distance.

You couldn’t help it. They were perfect, as far as you were concerned. Perfect, and fully out of your league.

Surely, Omegas like them would want someone better. Someone stronger. You’d told yourself that so many times it was practically your mantra, the only way you’d be able to stop yourself from pursuing them. They deserved someone more charismatic, more confident- an Alpha who could match their brilliance. Not someone like you, fumbling through conversations with them, struggling to keep your feelings in check.

But they’d already decided. They didn’t need a flashy Alpha or someone who tried too hard. What they wanted was you. The only problem? You didn’t seem to realize it, no matter how obvious they made it.

John took the lead, naturally. He knew you were cautious and perhaps a little insecure when it came to relationships (it was fucking visible in you, silly Alpha. He scoffs each time you draw back, frustrated), so he made it his mission to draw you in- slowly and subtly. His plan was meticulous: get you comfortable, build trust, and create opportunities for you to spend more time with them so you’d see that they only want you.

Maybe then you’d break out of that stupid shell you’ve put yourself in.

He’d started baking regularly, a habit you hadn’t even known he had. At least once a week, he’d show up at your place with a tin of cookies, a loaf of fresh bread, or a perfectly golden pie. “Thought I’d share,” he’d say casually, though the slight smirk tugging at his lips told a different story. He peers at you, letting his scent coil just a bit more. “I hope you don’t mind the amount of cream. I happen to like cream pies a lot.”

The way to an Alpha’s heart is through their stomach, and all that.

If he wasn’t offering you baked goods, he was asking for your help to make said baked goods. “Ran out of sugar again,” he’d sigh, handing you an empty container. “Mind sparing a bit?”

It was ridiculous, downright unbelievable how often he supposedly ran out of baking supplies. But his visits became a highlight of your week, and the lingering looks he gave you left your heart pounding long after he was gone.

The one time he’d handfed you, watching you lick the syrup from his fingers with half-lidded eyes, still lives in your mind rent-free.

Kyle took a softer, more personal approach. He wasn’t above using the pretense of friendship to spend time with you, often inviting you to casual dates- grabbing coffee, going to the movies, or just walking through town and shopping. Every invitation was framed innocently, but there was always a little extra effort behind it. He’d pick a movie he knew you’d like, suggest places he knew you’d find interesting, and ensure that others you unfortunately knew joined just enough to make it seem less like a date.

Somehow, though, those other people always mysteriously canceled. It was never anything dramatic- just a sudden cold, a scheduling conflict, or a “something came up, sorry.” Eventually, it would be just you and a very smug Kyle, sitting close enough that your knees brushed or reaching for popcorn at the same time. Once, right as the bowl emptied and you both reached for it, Kyle simply thought fuck it and held your hand.

On one occasion, you both shared a bowl of spaghetti and ended up with the scene from the Lady and the Tramp.

It was so painfully obvious to everyone.

Except you.

“It’s not a coincidence,” Kyle muttered to Johnny one evening after you left, both of them sitting in the spot you were in, bathing in the leftover warmth and scent. “How can they not notice?”

Speaking of Johnny; he’s barely keeping himself together. Subtlety in missions are a must sometimes, but he doesn’t want to that with you anymore. He was just so, so, so frustrated with your obliviousness. What more does he need to do to show you that he- that they- want you?

He’s been dropping so many hints; half-jokes about Omegas waiting begging to be swept off their feet, suggestive winks when you compliment him in that lovely, adoring tone of yours. Once, while watching a romantic tv show, he’d sighed loudly and very pointedly said: “If only someone would claim me.”

“If ye don’t figure it out soon,” he growled at the others one night, pacing back and forth like a wild beast and probably on his way to leave a dent in the carpet, “I’m showin’ up at their doorstep with nothin’ but a red bow, like some bloody Christmas prezzie, I swear to god.”

John sighs, rolling his eyes. “You do that, and I’m leaving you on their porch.”

“That’s exactly what I’m askin’ for!”

Simon took the quietest but most direct approach. Just not exactly direct towards you. While the others worked to get closer to you, Simon focused on eliminating what he saw as obstacles: other Omegas who thought you were free for the taking. It didn’t matter if they were serious or just someone you’d gone on a casual date with- Simon saw them all as threats.

He didn’t have to say much to scare them off. A single cold glare from across the room, sharp bursts of his scent, or a low, menacing comment was usually enough to send them packing. He didn’t care if it was excessive.

You were his Alpha. You were their Alpha, and no one else had a right to you.

But even Simon softened when it came to you. He couldn’t put all his thoughts, all his feelings into words, so he did them with his actions. Quiet protectiveness, gentle, careful touches. Moments of fleeting vulnerabilities shared between you and him.

He was always there for you. Even if you didn’t know you need him with you.

Still, despite all their efforts, you remained convinced that they weren’t interested.

In the end, to no one’s surprise, it’s Johnny who snaps. Johnny, so close to his heat, so absolutely done with your obliviousness and the Omegas that aren’t them talking with you when you should be only focused on them.

He doesn’t care; leaves the carefully made nest with your stolen shirts and none of the others stop him when he just. Drags your surprised self to the nest.

“Johnny! You-“

“I want you.” He hisses, bares his teeth all sharp and desperate. “We want you. And damn it, we will have you.”

And well, who are you to even say no when this is all you have wanted?

[cheyisagirlkisser]

what if reader is a cat burglar and breaks into pitfighter vi’s apartment one night and vi catches her and at first she thinks it’s kinda funny and says “are you dumb? there’s nothing in here worth stealing.” but then she sees how cute and scared reader is and decides to punish her for her actions

CONTENT: Vi x fem! reader, spanking (r! receiving), fingering & oral sex (r! receiving), spit play, hair-pulling, impact play, overstimulation, rough sex, degradation & some praise, dom / sub roles (dom vi, submissive reader), punishment, aftercare in the end

WORD COUNT: 3.1K

A/N: Thank you for the request I loved this one! Also if it's unclear because I only hinted to it, Vi comes back early because she forgot her bandages!! Enjoy<3

Your hands leisurely sift through the jewelry box, fingers brushing against a few rings and necklaces. Then, you feel it. Jackpot. A beautiful emerald, a real emerald necklace. You recall your friend telling you about how Pilties loved their jewels; frisking the accessory out of the box, you didn't expect to find such quality from an undercity home. Once again, another good snag. You smiled to yourself in pride though you were alone and slipped out the window you came out of, onto the night to bring your find to an.. 'old friend.'

The door jingled so comically and shut behind you. There, standing behind a tall desk and in front of shelves of treasures was Harlan: the pawn man of Zaun. He was intimidatingly tall and a snake if you ever did see one, but he was convenient, his building open at all hours of the night. Though most came to sell their own items, he didn't particularly need to know that yours were not technically.. well, yours. All he needed was something to sell up to the top-siders.

"Well, well, well. You've got something new for me today?" Voice so nasal, you'd think he was always in bouts of allergies, but no. Just a natural snake. "Show me what you've got for me, dear."

Your grin was as wide as the Cheshire cat's, "you'll never believe the haul, Harlan."

With raised brows, he bit. "How much?"

"One." Your hands found purchase at the front of his desk, amusingly starting up at his now impatient expression.

"You've come to me with only one item?" He sighed. "Fine, show me. What's so great about your find?"

Your toothy smile only widened, having lured him in for the catch. Then, your nimble hand fished through your pocket, pulling out the fish in question, the emerald shining as if to say, "I cost more than your Zaun home is worth by twice-over."

You had him hooked, and you were happily able to return back to your home with a bag of coins and a few heaps of gold stuffed into your pockets. Once your feet returned back to your humble apartment, you were quick to collapse onto your stiff mattress.

Your life mainly consisted of the routine of thievery. At night, you dressed to cover yourself and bade off to homes to snatch their possessions. From watches to even just coin itself, you were particularly good at going undetected. This was all you knew, and you didn't feel an ounce of empathy. What was fair was fair game, and what wasn't fair were the cards you were dealt with early into your childhood; why should anyone be offered what is simply 'fair', if you are not? You had rent to pay, your own mouth to feed, and everyone in Zaun in fact knew that money did equate to happiness. Everyone in Piltover may have been able to snuff those thoughts down as they mindlessly bought their way through life, leading more extravagance in a nanosecond than any person who'd lived in the undercity could see in a century-length lifetime.

Tomorrow, you thought, would be an even better haul. You usually did not plan through missions, for you were witty and able to go undetected. However, you knew what apartment to pick from tonight. You knew who to pick from, more precisely stated.

Her shoulders were broad, her hair dark. A glint of metal from her piercing flickered through visions, and her betters were smug. Vi was the name all undercity could ever think to talk about anymore. Vi was well-known for her abilities in the ring, and you knew she had a lot of money in her pockets from that. Little did you know that all of the cash went straight to brothels and beer, not to anything you could pick-pocket, though you did love a good quality drink or two.

You planned the perfect burglary: leave before Vi's first fight of the night starts so that she won't be in her apartment for a while, giving you enough time to find yourself her most valuable possessions. Every fight probably lasted under 15 minutes, but that did not include the time she spent at the bar with Loris or preparing for fights, so that added quite some extra time onto however many fights she'd be taking on that night. When you were satisfied with the haul, you would be careful not to leave a trace of yourself anywhere or make any noise that may pin you to the crime; you heard rumors that Vi was sweet on enforcers, and you wondered if that meant that she could possibly make it easier for you to be pinned to all of the robberies in the under-city if she were to ask for it. A trial like that? You'd be easily looking at decades.

You knew that without a doubt, this could go terribly wrong. Not only was Vi disgustingly connected to enforcers, but she was extremely strong. If you were to be caught, your life could be on the line. You weren't weak, but you were in no means fit to take on any pitfights, let alone Vi. However, you were quite foolish and the money from the emerald necklace would only get you so far. Plus, what's wrong with stealing from some enforcer suck-up?

So, you carried out your grand plan. At 8 p.m, the first fight began. Vi had not locked her front door, which surprised you but you were ironically grateful. Made it a lot easier than slipping through a window. Now, here you were, in Vi's apartment.

Taking it all in left you dumbfounded, to say the last. There was almost nothing in sight worth stealing. The room was tinier than you could even imagine; hell, it was smaller than your apartment and that was saying a lot. How in the world does a successful woman like Vi live in a place the size of a college dorm? The bed was hardly a mattress, and all of the valuable items you expected to see within the room were somewhat empty bottles of alcohol, dirty clothes all over the floor, and a few empty plates. Really the only thing worth stealing was the punching bag, but that would be difficult to carry, and you couldn't fit it in any bag you had on you. You momentarily noticed Vi's bandages on the mattress (if you could call it that), which was peculiar knowing that she was known for always fighting with those wrapped around her hands, but you were starting to panic over the fact that you plan was for naught. In a bit of a frenzy, you began sifting through her wooden nightstand's drawers for anything of importance. A flask, a small amount of coins, and a palette of black eye-shadow was all. And then, before you could get a chance to even take those items, you were caught.

"What the fuck are you doing in here?" The door slammed. You whipped back around to see her standing a few feet away, looking cautious but not exactly furious.

"I-I..I was just..." Your words seemed to fail you. Everything you could think of, any possible explanation, it all vanished. You thought of coming clean, but she quickly caught you off guard with a burst of laughter.

"Oh my god, are you that thief everyone's been complaining about?! It's you?" She didn't sound even irritated anymore, just purely entertained. You stood, defensiveness creeping into you.

"What's that supposed to mean?!" You shouted, fingers clenching into fists. Okay, so you did not appear to be thief material, to say the least. You didn't look like some big-time robber, only like a 20 year old girl. Still, you almost wished she would've just turned you in. This was humiliating.

"It's just that... you're visiting me of all people? Are you that stupid? There's not a single thing in here even worth taking. You could probably find a mouse who lives in the wall and sell it for more than this place is worth." She laughed once more, looking over your body in a way that made you both offended and somehow hot.

"Oh, please. Says the one who's soft on the top-siders." Your mouth was going to get you in a lot of trouble, it seemed.

Vi's laughed quickly died down, and she began walking towards you. There was nowhere to go but backwards until your back hit the wall. "You wanna say that again, thief? I could have you rot in Stillwater, you know." That threat caused you to begin to panic. You'd heard countless stories of what the guards do to their prisoners, and you didn't think you could even survive an hour in one of those cells.

"I'm sorry, please don't...please don't tell anybody. I'll do anything."

"Anything?" Vi raised a brow at that.

"Yes! I'll do anything, I'll give you all the cash on me, I'll never break into another house again, just..." You were starting to sound desperate, and Vi seeing some cute thief begging, offering her anything at all for her troubles... a wicked idea popped into her brain.

"I wanna fuck you."

"What...?"

"You heard me. I was planning on spending tonight's earnings on the brothel, but you'll work, I guess."

Her demand was met with silence. For some reason, more heat spread through your face at the thought of getting fucked by Vi than you'd care to admit. You knew that if you agreed, she probably wouldn't go easy. Then again, you didn't exactly have a choice. You were in her apartment after trying to take all of her shit. Before you could protest any further, Vi had you pinned against her wall, a hand gripping your chin to keep you from looking away. Her next words were quiet and low.

"Thieves deserve to get punished, am I right?" She let out a small hum at the way your breath hitched, "I mean, 'specially the pretty ones. So what'll it be, sweetheart?"

Your eyes widened at her words. "W-What will...what be?"

Vi laughed, a soft sound. "What'll it be? The enforcer's idea of punishment or mine?"

Your body was already betraying you, heat fluttering in your lower stomach at her words. This was the last thing you were expecting at the previous worries of getting caught, but you had to admit that Vi was hot. She had experience, too. You swallowed and tried to keep a steady voice with her.

"You."

Vi was a fucking maniac, you concluded.

She had you laid naked across her lap, your ass red with her handprint. Her hand spent what felt like hours slamming down onto your ass-cheeks, hitting both with an amount of force you knew that she contained, but didn't expect to feel. Each smack required a number. She forced you to count each and every spank, and if you hesitated for too long or lost count, she would start over. You didn't even remember how many times you were forced to restart because each blow on your rear left you a mess. All the while, she'd throw filthy words at you, somehow causing your pussy to grow wet and drip onto her mattress.

"Whores get punished when they get greedy. You'd know all about that, wouldn't you baby?"

SMACK!

"Every time I spank you, you seem to get even more soaked. A damn mess all over my bed. It's okay, baby. You'll make up for it."

SMACK!

When you were thinking about getting punished sexually, you imagined just a rough fuck. Maybe some heavy kissing and the usual lesbian stuff, not to be bent over this girl's lap and spanked like it was discipline, forced to count and basically stripped of any ounce of dignity your soul had. You had to admit that you loved it, though. The more her hand met your skin, the louder you got. It was absolutely hell, and you looked like it, too. Your hair that was once tied back was frizzy and tangled from the amount of times she'd gripped it to lift your head up. Your eyes were watery, rimmed with tears that reached your cheeks. Your bottom lip was sore and swollen from you biting down onto it to brace yourself for her punishment. Each moment was absolute torture.

And just when you thought it was over, Vi's fingers slipped inside of you, giving you no time to adjust before fucking you senseless. You cried out at the mix of pleasure and pain, trying to squirm away but Vi's hand on your hip kept you right in your place on across her lap.

"O-Oh, fuck!! Vi, please, take it easy on me-" You didn't even sound like yourself now, your voice broken from all of the crying and your words muffled from your face in the mattress. You were so fucking embarrassed, naked on top of this woman's thighs with her fingers thrusting into your pussy like she hated you. You were convinced she did.

"Why should I take it easy on you? You're just a filthy thief who's desperate enough to steal from anyone, and apparently desperate to get fucked." She berated you, voice so unlike what you'd heard before when she was lightheartedly laughing at you for breaking in.

"It's too much, please!! I can't take it.." You pleaded, crying into her pillow. It was too much, that much was true. Each hit to your g-spot wasn't like a brush but instead like a punch to it, and it felt like overstimulation before you were even able to cum yet.

Vi seemed to take mercy on you, at least that was what you assumed.

Her digits slipped out of you, but before you could sigh in relief, she had you flipped over and onto your back, laid out on top of her mattress with your legs spread in a matter of seconds. Soon, one hand returned to your pussy, three fingers pumping into you at a relentless pace as her other hand gripped your chin. Her eyes were dark with something you weren't used to seeing in anyone, and you began to realize why she was so good at fighting - she was fucking insane.

"Open that fuckin' mouth of yours. Right now." You didn't even wait to oblige, quickly parting your lips which were spilling out whines and cries for mercy. Vi spit into your mouth and used her own hand to close your jaw. "Now, swallow."

You swallowed graciously, and a flutter went through you at her taste. She hadn't even kissed you yet, and you now wanted her to. Her saliva was thick with alcohol and iron, perhaps from blood from a previous fight, but you needed more.

"V-Vi, need a kiss.." You begged breathlessly, expecting her to cave.

"You think you deserve a kiss?" You nodded eagerly, trying your best to even maintain the conversation with her fingers picking up in speed. "Yeah? You're getting a kiss after you've learned your goddamn lesson."

Before you could even whine in protest, Vi's head was between your legs, making out with your sopping cunt while three fingers curled to meet your g-spot. "You wanna complain about me fucking you like this, but you're soaking wet enough to take it and this sweet pussy's just clenching around my fingers like she never wants me to leave," she pulled away to remark before diving back in, tongue circling around your swollen bud.

"Oh, fuck!! Vi, no- You're gonna make me cum, Vi!!"

Only, Violet didn't seem to care. In fact, she wanted you to. She wanted you to so that she could do it again, and again, and again.

Vi coaxed the first orgasm out of you with the flat of her tongue and a deep plunge into your stretched-out hole. Each flick of her tongue sent you both squirming away and bucking up into her mouth. Every hit your sweet insides endured had you only gripping at her stained mattress harder. You cried, pleaded, and begged her for more. You could feel her smile against your pussy. She'd give you more, alright.

You were starting to regret your word when her mouth stayed latched to your clit and her fingertips abused your spongey, tender insides. You were practically fucked raw now, ass still red and sore, cries sounding more like a wounded animal than a real girl, and all you could even process was the sensations. You forgot what you came here for, forgot about wanting a kiss. You wanted mercy.

The second orgasm was a brutal paradise. Ecstasy flowed throughout your body in waves until once again, your pussy was feeling the raw overload of pleasure she was dealing you. You didn't remember how many more times this cycle continued, only that by the end of it, your lower half was numb and you recalled through teary vision, her chin coated in your juices and her lips parting to suck the taste off of her own fingers.

When she was finally done with you, she pulled you into her lap and held you tightly. Sure you were a little thief, but a cute one. Vi wasn't a monster. Her hands traced patterned over your back and squeezed you tightly. You sniffled, still coming down from the intensity of it all.

"Shh, you were a good girl 'f me...took it all and now you're here in my lap.." she comforted you, planting her lips onto your hair.

Then, you remembered what you really wanted to feel before you had to leave.

"Can I please get a kiss?" Your head pulled from her shoulder so that you could see her. Vi nearly melted at your eyes staring up at her, so vulnerable and in need of her care.

Of course she leaned in, pressing her lips onto yours with a gentle warmth just for you to have. She didn't rush it or invade your mouth, only spoiling you with her tender affection you craved after her harsh lesson. Her lips made soft smacking sounds against yours, causing you to softly hum against her mouth and lean in closer for more. You needed this stranger's care more than you needed anything else in that moment. When you pulled away, you placed your head onto her bandaged chest, letting her heart beat and sweet coos lull you to slumber. You ended up falling asleep in her arms, and you hoped to come back to her apartment, but rather for her than for stealing. Your body ached with the previous events, but Vi's hold on you didn't leave you throughout the night, squeezing you so softly to hear those sweet, sleepy squeaks.

[hoshifighting]

WARNINGS: smut, penetrative sex, nasty messy sex so—mentions of body fluids (cum), hair pulling, cock riding, really horny reader, hoshi rolling his hips like a slut, it doesnt have an order, it's just a long drabble of how hoshi fucks.

hoshi's hip (sex) game is the topic of the night, and this a post 100% dedicated to it (and how he fucks basically). i swear, there's not a SINGLE fic of mine that doesnt mention hoshi circling his hips or going balls sack deep. DUH. he’s a dancer—body carved by god or whoever tf is up there crafting perfect models for shit like this.

but looks like all of his dancer journey have gone straight into how he fucks. and yeah, you should’ve said something earlier, should’ve prepared your damn soul for the hip game this man is packing. but nah, you were dumb. reckless. thought it’d just be another roll in the sheets.

spoiler: it was not.

he’s got you laid out like a fucking masterpiece, your legs trembling before he’s even inside. his hands r steady as hell, holding your hips like they’re choreography. “you good?” he asks trying to sound cute, heartly being careful but with that stupidly hot, cocky grin curling his lips, like he already knows the answer. he does.

and when he slides in, it's game over. it’s not just the stretch (which is already enough to have your back arching like you’re tryna touch the ceiling). it’s the way he moves. hoshi doesn’t thrust. he rolls his hips, and i JUST KNOW! that it goes straight to the sweeet spot. he knows will ruin you. you’re done. wiped out.

“you feel that?” smug motherfucker. and yeah, you do. his tip’s got your g'spot on lockdown, like he mapped that shit out beforehand. every roll has his glutes flexing, you didn’t think you’d ever appreciated someone’s ass mid-fuck until hoshi, the power in them driving him deeper, balls-deep and then some. it’s like he’s tryna rewrite your anatomy.

“fuck me—” it’s the only thing you can manage because every other thought in your brain has been evicted.

“yeah, that’s what i thought.” he punctuates his words with a sharp snap of his hips. he’s got one hand gripping your thigh, the other tangling in your hair. if it’s long, he’s wrapping it around his wrist, pulling your head back just enough to meet his gaze.

“look at me,” he commands, and his hips don’t. fucking. stooooop, grinding into you like he’s on heat. “c’mon, babe. lemme hear you.”

but all you can manage is this strangled suffocated moan because his pulse is fucking otherworldly. he knows it, too. his smirk deepens, his eyes dark with that predatory gleam of someone who knows he’s completely destroying you.

legs, trembling. breath, nonexistent. moans, choked af, caught in your throat because his tip is right there. massaging your cervix, hitting that spot like it owes him rent. hips circling so smoothly it feels like he’s winding you tighter and tighter, like you’re about to snap.

and when you do—because obviously you do—he doesn’t slow down. no, he leans into it, letting you ride that high while his pace stays maddeningly perfect. every roll, every grind, like he’s got this whole thing down to a science.

hoshi knows exactly what he’s doing. and he loves it. loves the way your body reacts to him, the way your thighs tremble and your back arches, the way your moans break apart like you can’t take it anymore. “told you, didn’t i?” he says, grinning as he watches you unravel. “best fuck in the world.”

you knew you were screwed the moment hoshi smiled at you during that dinner. not the polite kind of smile tho—it was the type that tugged at the corner of his mouth, the one that promised chaos (very hoshi of him). you’d spent the whole night thinking, damn, he’s so sweet, so charming, falling for his jokes and the way his laugh made everything else blur. and then, that same mouth was pressed against your neck not even two hours later, and now you’re realizing that “sweet” is the last fucking word you’d ever use for him.

it’s not even just him, it’s the fact that he drags you down with him. one second, you’re gasping like some innocent disney princess; the next, you’ve got your knees digging into the mattress, heels propped up, grinding down on his cock like you’re trying to carve his name into your pussy.

“ohmygodyouresofuckingbig” you gasp, your voice wild, your hand braced against the headboard so you don’t fucking launch into orbit. his hands resting on your hips, loose as hell, like he’s just chilling, letting you take what you want.

he laughs at the sight, his chest glistening from sweat, abs flexing every time you drop down. his head tips back against the pillow, a hand running through his messy hair as he watches you like you’re putting on the show of a lifetime. “weren’t you just the sweetest little thing at dinner? now you’re grinding on me like you think i’m about to leave.”

your reply isn’t even a word. it’s a throaty, drawn-out moan, one that sounds ripped straight from a porno, because hoshi’s cock feels like it was engineered to ruin you. every time your hips roll down, you feel him, thick and impossibly deep, stretching you making your brain short-circuit. “shit, baby,” he groans when you clench around him, his hands tightening ever so slightly. “you’re so—fuck—tight.”

you’re too far gone to even be embarrassed. filthy sounds of your bodies moving together are louder than any shame you could’ve had, and when his tip drags right against your sweet spot, you lose it.

“fuck, hoshi,” you babble, your voice cracking as you try to form coherent thoughts. “so deep, you’re so—god, you’re—you’re ruining me!”

his laugh rumbles beneath you. “ruining you?” he mocks. “baby, you’re doing all the work. look at you. riding me like you’re afraid my cock’s gonna disappear.”

you barely register his words. but when he takes one hand and tangles it in your hair again, pulling just enough to tilt your head back, you’re done for. absolutely done. “oh my god, oh my fucking god,” you cry out, your thighs burning from the effort, but you don’t stop. can’t stop. he’s too deep, too good, his cock hitting your g-spot with every grind, every roll, and it’s got you unraveling at the seams.

“listen to you,” he keeps talking, even though he's more moaning than saying anything. “such a good girl at dinner, saying please and thank you. now you’re on my cock, moaning like you’re getting paid for it.”

“you—fuck—you’re so—fucking big,” you manage to gasp, your hand sliding down his chest, fingers curling into his slick skin as if that’ll keep you steady. “so deep, hosh, i can’t—i’m gonna—oh my god.”

his hips shifting up just a fraction to meet yours. that tiny movement sends stars shooting across your vision, and agian, he fucking knows it. “yeah?” he murmurs, his voice dropping lower. “you gonna cum for me, baby? gonna cream my cock, hm?” his words shouldn’t hit as hard as they do, but your body reacts before your brain can catch up. your thighs tremble, your moans turning into these high-pitched, incoherent whines as you chase that high, grinding down harder, faster.

“that’s it,” he groans, his grip on your hair tightening just enough to make your screams go silent. “fuck, you’re so good. so fucking good. take it, baby. take everything.”

and when you finally snap, your head tipping back, your moans breaking into sharp, breathless cries, he lets you ride it out. doesn’t rush, doesn’t push, just watches with this half-lidded, satisfied grin as you completely lose your dignity on his cock.

AND.

he loves the mess. thrives in it, even.

it starts when he’s got his fingers buried in you, watching the way your slick coats them with every pump. his other hand’s braced against your thigh, holding you open, keeping you spread so he can watch the way you clench and drip around him.

“listen to that,” grin on his face pure sin as his fingers curl. the wet, obscene sounds of your cum fill the air, and he’s eating it up, moaning slutty like it’s his favorite fucking song. “so messy, baby. you like that, huh? making such a pretty little mess on my hand.” he doesn’t stop until you’re shaking, until there’s a wet spot on the sheets beneath you, proof of just how far he went.

“fuck, look at that,” he groans, dragging his coated fingers along your inner thigh, leaving wet trails that make you shudder. when he slides into you, it’s like he’s in a trance. slow just enough to feel the way your walls squeeze around him, wet and hot and perfect. but then he pulls out almost entirely, glancing down to watch the way your cum clings to him, coating every inch of his cock in a slick, glistening sheen.

he does it again. until he’s buried deep, then pulls out just to watch. the slick sound of it drives him insane, makes him groan low in his throat as he watches strings of your sluick stretch between you before dripping down onto the sheets. every thrust is accompanied by the wet, obscene sound of your slick, loud enough to echo in the room, loud enough to make him grin (maybe thats why he likes to roll his hips deep inside you, because makes the sound louder??) “every time i move, i can hear you, baby. you hear that? that’s all you.”

but it’s never enough for him, hoshi’s gotta see it. so he slows down, pulls out entirely, and fuck, the sight alone is enough to make him lose it. your arousal glistens on his cock, dripping in thick, shining lines, pooling onto the bed beneath you. he runs a hand along his length, spreading it, smearing it, just so he can watch how messy you’ve made him.

and then he’s back inside, the glide impossibly smooth, wet and filthy, and he’s groaning like it’s the best thing he’s ever felt.

[yourfavoritepillowprincess]

downbad!abby who initially ran into you in your campus library. it was a rainy wednesday afternoon, the november chill leaving everyone bundled up in sweaters and beanies galore. her biochem professor cancelled class last minute, and what better way to celebrate than enjoying a cup of hot chocolate and a nice book?

you both happened to have stumbled upon the horror aisle, with you naturally finding your way there shortly after abby. she didn’t acknowledge you at first, so busy reading a blurb from some hardcover that she didn’t want to lose focus. it wasn’t until she heard the light jingle of the beads on the bottom of your braids that she thought to look up to investigate the sound. 

she nearly has a fucking heart attack when she sees you for the very first time. the way the dim lights shone on you, emphasizing your wonderfully brown skin. the way that even with your slouchy crochet sweater and baggy jeans, she could still see the light silhouette of your thighs and the side of your fat ass. the way that your fingers were stacked with rings and your perfectly lined eyeliner and your hair. your fucking hair. everything about you was a piece of art, and for a hot second, she was convinced that this was some hyper surreal fever dream. you couldn't possibly be real....right?

she only allowed herself a few seconds to be starstruck before snapping tf out of it and striking up a conversation. as entranced as she was, your campus was unfortunately quite large, and if it took this long into the school year for her to find you, who tf knows when she’ll see you again?

she was a mess, but a charming one, a confident one. and that intrigued you like nothing else. in fact, everything about her intrigued you. her confidence, the fact that she was built like a damn military tank with arms the sizes of cannons, the way her long blonde hair was pulled back into a neat french braid, with a few light strands framing her face in the most beautiful way. she was gorgeous and was talking to you out of all people.

as your eyes raked over her figure, gently smiling to yourself bc you clearly liked what you saw, abby knew that one way or another, tomorrow or 10 years from now, she was going to make you her fucking wife.

this bitch courts you for weeks. good morning texts, endless compliments, study sessions, cute little picnics at the park not too far from the dorms. she’s always one of the first to view your story or like your post, and will leave the cutest comments. you had been going through a relatively rough time lately, but you just seemed so hyper and chirpy that even your friends were wondering wtf was up.

to everyone else yall been together, but lesbians just move at a different pace 😜. your first official “date” ended up being an entire fucking day filled with activities, 100% curated by abby. a trip to a museum you told her you’d been meaning to check out, followed by lunch at this super cute cafe, followed by a pottery class, followed by a picnic/smoke sesh that had you both giggling at absolutely nothing for hours. she has proven again and again that she’s more than willing to go above and beyond for you, and it made your heart swell with so much love that it felt like it was going to burst. so naturally, when she finally popped the question (officially asked you to be her gf), you couldn't say yes fast enough. literally. you didn’t even let her finish her sentence.

and that's exactly how you got here, pinned underneath abby on her bed.

"you have no idea how long i’ve been waiting for this. knew from the first day i saw you that i was gonna make you crave this dick. took all my strength not to take you in that damn library bunny". 

she fucked you with a ferocity that under different circumstances would’ve scared you, your knees next to your ears as you watched her fat dick slide out of you repeatedly. it was heavy, filling your cunt to the brim as it struggled to accommodate her length, the light imprint of her hard work showing via a little bump under your belly button.

it took almost 2 hours of foreplay and a lot of lube, but she was eventually able to work all 9 inches into you, and it was making your head fucking spin.

“how do you feel mama? feel full, hmm? am i hitting that spot right?” you would’ve answered her, if your brain and ears were cooperating at the same time. her words oozed through one ear and out of the other, her voice syrupy and so so sweet. the room smelled like nothing but sex, the sound of skin slapping against each other and your desperate cries the only sounds to be heard. outside of the dirty talk, not a peep came from abby, she was so focused on being in your tummy that she borderline forgot how to moan :(

“i-i”. even speaking proved to be a struggle. your nails were digging bloody crescents into her wide shoulders, looking an absolute mess. rivers of salty tears were streaming down your cheeks, snot building as drool leaked from your open mouth. it was embarrassing, honestly. humiliating even. but abby was looking down at you with nothing but pride and adoration in her eyes. to her, you looked just as beautiful as ever, well loved, well fucked. what else can a simple gal like her ask for?

“you-you.” she mocked, slowing her thrusts and allowing you a brief second to collect your thoughts. “what do you wanna say baby? tell abby alllll about it, yeah?” she wiped some of the tears that continued to seep out of your eyes and pushed the few miscellaneous braids that found their way in front of you back behind your head, those damn beads still jingling.

“i think i love you.”

and with that, abby’s face lit up like a kid on christmas day. “yeah? you think you love me?” she wrapped your legs around her waist and slightly hitched you up, returning to her original pace of impaling you on her strap. “well i think i love you” she bumped her nose against yours, bringing your lips into a kiss so deep that it pushed you even further into that blissful subspace.

“now show me how much this pussy loves me, and cum”.

[ozzgin]

Imagine if there was a fanfic author who slowly amassed a following of monsters.

They’re just writing for a cool show they found on a definitely-not-illegal-site, could be x reader or a couple they like a lot.

The show was monster made, human didn’t think there was anything odd about it except that one human character that acted suspiciously like a commercial retail sailer. They thought it was kinda like a joke.

Monsters get more intrigued when they add a few human characters/ reader insert is human with details they thought were imaginative about humans. Offhandedly a commenter asks where they came up for such a cool understanding/headcannons for humans.

“Personal experience?”

“You’ve met a human?”

“Well, that’s just rude. I may write a lot but I do have somewhat of a social life”

Next day they wake up with so many comments and kudos they’re genuinely confused but also super happy.

(Also, imagine if they were roommates with the streamer reader 😂)

Human author who unknowingly ends up writing for a monster-only fandom.

It's been bothering you for too long: no one in your friend circle has ever heard of your current obsession. You've scoured the Internet, searching for any content regarding this mysterious show, to no avail. Thus, you've decided to write your own fanfiction.

You weren't expecting much. After all, it must be some obscure interest few people know about. Yet the very next day, after publishing your first piece, you awaken to hundreds of messages from intrigued and baffled users.

"This is so OOC. No human acts like that."

"Don't be rude," another account comments. "Maybe they're not familiar with human lore."

You scan the walls of text in utter confusion. What on Earth are they talking about? Have you been caught in some elaborate joke? Mildly irked by this bizarre humor, you decide to respond sarcastically:

"Right. Humans should refrain from writing about humans, noted."

Perhaps this mere observation has made matters even worse. Your notifications flood with new followers and strange inbox messages. Are you truly a human? Can you prove it? Will you be continuing the story?

Exasperated, you look for your roommate, showing them this unfolding absurdity. They stare at your screen, then flash you a pitiful smile.

Good luck getting out of this, they almost tell you. You can't just tempt monsters like that and expect them to get over it.

The unholy creatures have just found their new favorite pastime.

[solxamber]

Overblot Gang + Rollo vs Plushies

Surely they're not jealous of a stuffed toy, right? ....right???

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle stepped into the room, exhaustion clinging to him like an unwelcome guest. It had been a day filled with chaos—Ace and Deuce were their usual disruptive selves, Heartslabyul’s hedgehogs had staged what could only be described as a minor rebellion, and the tea party had gone disastrously wrong when the tart supply mysteriously disappeared.

All Riddle wanted was to collapse into bed with you, the one person who made his world feel a little less upside-down.

But instead of finding you waiting to greet him, he found you fast asleep, curled up in the middle of the bed.

And clutching...a plushie.

Riddle froze, his hand still on the doorknob, his eyes narrowing at the offending object. It was a bunny plush, worn and clearly well-loved, nestled securely in your arms. Your cheek rested against its soft head, your lips slightly parted in a peaceful slumber.

For a moment, Riddle just stared. Then the tiniest flicker of jealousy ignited in his chest.

It’s just a stuffed toy, he told himself, but the longer he looked, the more irrational his thoughts became.

Why is it getting your affection while I’m here, alive, and far more deserving?

He shook his head, trying to dispel the ridiculous notion, but the sight of you snuggling the plushie like it was the most precious thing in the world made his face heat up.

“This is absurd,” he muttered under his breath, but his resolve only grew stronger.

Quietly, carefully, he crept closer to the bed, his eyes fixed on the plushie. His plan was simple: extract the bunny and take its place. Surely, you’d prefer your boyfriend over a stuffed toy.

He reached out, his fingers brushing against the plushie’s soft fabric. Just as he began to tug it free, your eyes fluttered open.

“Riddle?” you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep.

Riddle froze like a thief caught in the act, his face turning as red as his hair. “You’re awake!”

“I am now,” you said, a teasing smile tugging at your lips as you noticed the bunny in his hand. “What are you doing?”

“I was—” He struggled to find a reasonable explanation, but his traitorous blush gave him away. “You were holding it so tightly, and I thought perhaps you’d be more comfortable with me instead.”

You blinked at him for a moment before breaking into a laugh, soft and warm. “Riddle Rosehearts, are you jealous of my plushie?”

“I most certainly am not!” he spluttered, though the way he avoided your gaze told a different story.

“You are!” you said, sitting up and holding the plushie close. “You’re jealous of Bunny!”

Riddle groaned, burying his face in his hands. “This is mortifying.”

“Don’t worry, Bunny,” you cooed, deliberately making it worse. “Riddle doesn’t understand how much you mean to me.”

“Give me that!” Riddle reached for the plushie again, but you held it just out of reach, giggling as he tried to maintain his dignity while grappling with a stuffed toy.

Finally, you relented, setting the plushie aside and wrapping your arms around him instead. “I’m just teasing. You know you’re my favorite, right?”

He sighed, leaning into your embrace despite his embarrassment. “I don’t know why I let myself get worked up over something so silly.”

“Because you’re adorable,” you said, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Riddle’s blush deepened, but this time, he didn’t try to hide it. “Just...promise me you won’t replace me with a toy.”

You grinned, cupping his face in your hands. “Never. You’re too cute to replace.”

And with that, you pulled him into a kiss, his earlier jealousy forgotten as he melted into your affection. The plushie sat abandoned at the foot of the bed, no match for the warmth and love you gave so freely to the one who truly deserved it.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona slammed the door to your shared room, the sound of it echoing through the space. His day had been one giant pile of nonsense—from an annoying meeting he didn’t even want to attend to Ruggie disappearing when he needed him to take his place. And let’s not even talk about that one random pigeon that had the audacity to poop on his shoulder during his walk back to the dorm.

All he wanted now was the comfort of your presence and the luxury of using you as his personal pillow while he finally got some peace.

But when he turned to the bed, his sharp emerald eyes caught sight of you curled up against something that was decidedly not him.

You were cuddling a lion plushie, of all things, as you read a book. The toy was tucked snugly in your arms, and every now and then, you absentmindedly stroked its mane while flipping the pages.

Leona froze, his ears twitching in irritation. What in the world is that thing doing in my spot?

You glanced up when you noticed him standing there, his face an unreadable mask of simmering annoyance. “Oh, hey, Leona,” you greeted cheerfully, holding up the plushie. “Look! Isn’t this cute? I found it earlier, and it reminded me of you.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he crossed the room in a few swift strides, grabbed the plushie from your arms, and unceremoniously hurled it across the room. It landed with a pathetic little plop in the corner.

“Leona!” you exclaimed, half-shocked, half-amused. “What was that for?”

He flopped onto the bed beside you, pulling you into his arms with a huff. “That stupid toy’s been hogging my place all day,” he grumbled, burying his face in your neck. “I don’t need competition in my own bed.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, threading your fingers through his hair as he tangled himself around you like an oversized, grumpy cat. “Leona, it’s just a plushie. Are you seriously jealous of a stuffed animal?”

“I'm not jealous,” he muttered, tightening his grip around your waist. “I’m the only lion you need.”

“Aw, poor baby,” you teased, tilting his chin up so you could look him in the eyes. “Do you feel neglected? Should I make it up to you?”

Leona raised an eyebrow, though the corner of his lips twitched upward in a smirk. “Damn straight, you should. Start with those kisses you owe me.”

With a laugh, you leaned down and kissed him softly, your hands cradling his face. He hummed in satisfaction, his earlier annoyance melting away as you continued peppering his cheeks and forehead with affection.

“Better now?” you asked, grinning against his skin.

“Hmm,” he replied, sounding almost lazy, though his arms stayed firmly locked around you. “Still annoyed that you thought some stuffed toy was good enough to take my place, but I guess I’ll survive.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, shaking your head but snuggling closer to him.

“And you’re mine,” he murmured, pulling the blanket over both of you. “Now shut up and get comfortable. You’re my pillow tonight.”

You didn’t mind one bit, letting him rest his head on your chest while you stroked his hair. The plushie in the corner could wait—your favorite lion was right where he belonged.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul walked into your shared room, exhaling a sigh that carried the weight of a long, exhausting day. Between renegotiating contracts with customers, juggling lounge finances, and—most harrowing of all—keeping Floyd and Jade from causing a full-blown diplomatic incident, he was done.

All he wanted now was the comfort of your embrace and the chance to leave the chaos of the Mostro Lounge behind.

But when he stepped into the room, his eyes landed on you sprawled on the bed.

You were curled up with an octopus plushie of all things, the game console in your hands forgotten as you absently squished the toy. It had an oddly familiar round head and floppy tentacles that dangled off the side of the bed.

Azul froze in the doorway, blinking at the scene in front of him. His sharp mind began firing off thoughts at record speed.

Is that... me? No, of course not. But you’re cuddling it. You’re smiling. Does it remind you of me?

He frowned as another realization hit him like a cold wave.

Am I... jealous of a goddamn plushie?

Clearing his throat, he stepped further into the room. “What’s this, my dear?” he asked, voice smooth but laced with suspicion.

You glanced up and beamed at him. “Oh! Welcome back, Azul!” You held up the plushie as if presenting a priceless artifact. “Isn’t this cute? I found it earlier and thought it looked a little like you.”

Azul’s composure faltered for a split second, his cheeks tinging pink. “You think an oversized toy resembles me?”

“Well, yeah,” you said, tilting your head innocently. “It’s an octopus. And it’s adorable.”

Azul adjusted his glasses, hiding his expression. “I see.” He hesitated before clearing his throat again. “It seems you’re quite attached to it.”

You hummed in agreement, giving the plushie another squeeze. “It’s so squishy and comforting to hold while I play.”

Azul’s eyebrow twitched. “Comforting, is it?”

He walked to the bed, sitting down beside you with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Darling, might I propose a trade?”

“A trade?” you repeated, trying not to laugh at how serious he looked.

“Yes,” he said smoothly. “That plushie for... well, anything you desire. Perhaps a free full course meal at the lounge? Or a favor of your choosing?”

You raised an eyebrow, setting down your console. “Are you trying to make a deal with me over a stuffed toy?”

Azul’s cheeks darkened. “Of course not. I simply thought you might prefer a more... meaningful source of comfort.”

It clicked, and a mischievous grin spread across your face. “Oh. Oh, I see what this is.”

“What are you implying?” he asked, straightening his tie even though it wasn’t out of place.

“You’re jealous of the plushie,” you said, leaning toward him with a teasing glint in your eyes.

Azul sputtered, adjusting his glasses again. “Jealous? Don’t be absurd. Why would I—”

“Aw, Azul,” you cooed, cutting him off as you set the plushie aside and wrapped your arms around his neck. “You should’ve just said you wanted to be my cuddle buddy. You’re my favorite octo-mer, after all.”

His ears flushed deeper as he tried to maintain his dignity. “Well, of course I am. There’s no need for comparison.”

“Good,” you said, pulling him down onto the bed and into the position the plushie had been occupying moments ago. You rested your head against his chest, a satisfied smile on your face. “Because this is way better than some squishy toy.”

Azul relaxed, his arms wrapping around you as a content sigh escaped his lips. “Naturally,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

From the corner of the room, the plushie sat forgotten. Azul glanced at it once and smirked. You’ll never take my place again.

Jamil Viper

Jamil shuffled down the dorm hallway, exhaustion radiating off him in waves. The day had been a whirlwind of chaos—cooking for Kalim’s impromptu banquet, mediating arguments between students, and narrowly avoiding another wild scheme involving magic carpets.

All he wanted was to collapse on the bed he shared with you. That you’d be there was just the cherry on top.

He pushed the door open, ready to greet you—only to stop dead in his tracks.

You were curled up on the bed, scrolling through your phone with a peaceful smile. But it wasn’t just you. No, you were wrapped snugly around a snake plushie.

Its long, noodle-like body coiled over your lap as you absently hugged it closer, your cheek pressing against its soft fabric.

Jamil’s eye twitched.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, and stared at the scene with growing annoyance.

You look so happy... with a plushie.

“Hey, Jamil!” you greeted cheerfully, glancing up from your phone. “Welcome back. Long day?”

“Mm,” he hummed, walking toward the bed with a carefully neutral expression. He sat down stiffly at the edge, his back to you.

“Everything okay?” you asked, noticing his unusually curt demeanor.

“Fine,” he replied, voice clipped.

You frowned, putting your phone down. Wrapping your arms around his back, you rested your chin on his shoulder. “You sure? You seem… off.”

“I’m fine,” he said again, though his tone didn’t convince either of you.

You squinted at his turned profile, the faintest flush dusting his ears. He wasn’t looking at you—or, more specifically, at the snake plushie you still held loosely.

Then it clicked.

You smirked, leaning closer. “Wait a second. Are you… jealous of the plushie?”

His shoulders tensed, and he immediately scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Oh my gosh, you are jealous!” you teased, letting go of the plushie entirely to wrap yourself fully around him. “You hate my noodle friend, don’t you?”

Jamil turned slightly, just enough to glare half-heartedly at you. “It’s not— I don’t— It’s a toy,” he huffed, the flush on his face deepening.

“A very cute toy,” you said with a grin, nuzzling your cheek against his. “But not as cute as my boyfriend.”

Jamil stiffened as you started peppering kisses along his jawline. “Stop,” he mumbled weakly, his resolve clearly crumbling.

“Why?” you asked innocently, kissing the corner of his lips before moving to his neck. “You’re so much better than any plushie. You’re warm and handsome and smell nice…”

He finally cracked, turning to face you fully with an exasperated sigh. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Mm, but you love me anyway,” you said with a laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Jamil gave you a tired but affectionate look, letting himself melt into your embrace. “Maybe.”

You smiled, pulling him down onto the bed with you. As he settled into your arms, the plushie forgotten on the floor, you whispered, “You’ll always be my favorite noodle.”

He groaned, burying his face in your shoulder to hide his embarrassed grin. “You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Never,” you said, pressing a kiss to his temple.

And Jamil, despite his protests, felt a sense of peace he hadn’t experienced all day.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil returned to his dorm room with a sigh of relief, the stress of the day clinging to him like stage makeup. The auditions, the photoshoots, and Epel’s ongoing refusal to use skincare—it had been a lot.

What he wanted now was simple: your company, your warmth, and the soothing routine of winding down together before bed.

However, when he stepped inside, his poised demeanor wavered.

You were curled up on the bed, a content smile on your face, snuggled tightly against a plushie—a soft, bunny-shaped one at that.

Vil froze, one hand still on the door handle.

It’s just a plushie, he told himself. A mere inanimate object.

But as he watched you absentmindedly rub your cheek against the bunny’s floppy ear, he felt… something.

Annoyance? At the plushie? Himself? You? He couldn’t even tell.

Brushing off the irrational jealousy bubbling in his chest, Vil set his things down and began his evening routine. He didn’t mention the plushie or the way it seemed to taunt him with its undeserved place in your arms.

You looked up with a warm smile. “Hey, Vil. How was your day?”

“Busy,” he replied smoothly, glancing your way briefly before focusing on his vanity.

“You want me to pin up your hair?” you offered, already starting to sit up, plushie still clutched in one hand.

“No need,” he said quickly, voice tighter than usual.

You blinked. That was unusual—Vil always let you (only you) help with his hair. But you shrugged it off, assuming he was just tired.

As Vil carefully applied his cleanser, the plushie caught his eye again in the mirror. It was still nestled against you, smugly enjoying the attention that should’ve been his.

Halfway through his routine, he finally snapped.

With a dramatic sigh, Vil spun around, crossed the room in three graceful strides, and plucked the bunny from your lap.

“Uh—?” you started, confused, but before you could say more, Vil replaced the plushie with himself, settling across your lap as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Vil?” you asked, biting back a laugh as his weight pressed you into the mattress.

“Not. A. Word,” he warned, narrowing his eyes at your amused expression. His cheeks were faintly pink, but he composed himself quickly, picking up where he left off with his skincare routine as though nothing had happened.

You grinned, wrapping your arms around his waist. “You’re adorable, you know that?”

Vil’s hands faltered for a split second before he regained his composure. “I don’t need your commentary.”

“You’re totally jealous of the bunny,” you teased, leaning up to kiss his shoulder.

He clicked his tongue but didn’t deny it. Instead, he muttered, “Why would I feel jealous over a plushie?”

“Because you’re pouting,” you said, laughing softly.

Vil sighed, tilting his head slightly to look at you out of the corner of his eye. “I do not pout. And don’t think I’ll let you win this one.”

“Oh, I’ve already won,” you said, tightening your hold on him.

Vil shook his head, muttering something about your insufferable sense of humor, but his posture relaxed as he continued his routine.

By the time he finished, the plushie had been completely forgotten, replaced entirely by the warm, smug human wrapped around his waist.

Idia Shroud

Idia shuffled back to his room after the dorm leaders' meeting, grumbling under his breath about its sheer redundancy.

"Like they really needed me there. My tablet could've handled it. Heck, I could’ve sent Ortho in my place! It’s not like I’m ever the one making decisions… What’s the point of—"

His mumbling came to an abrupt halt as he stepped into his room and saw you on the bed.

You were curled up against a giant teddy bear, console still in hand, the screen long since dimmed. Soft snores escaped you as you nestled deeper into the plushie's arms, utterly at peace.

Idia froze, his face instantly heating up. "Wha—?! W-why is this so—?!" His hair sparked pink as he clutched his hoodie, feeling like he was going to short-circuit.

The sight was almost too much. You, looking so cute and peaceful, holding a teddy bear like it was some kind of rival stealing his spot.

He fumbled for his phone, hands shaking slightly as he snapped several photos. “For, uh, research. Totally normal behavior. Definitely not for my… secret stash.” His whisper echoed a bit too loudly in the silent room.

But now he was faced with a dilemma.

On one hand, you looked so cozy, and the last thing he wanted to do was disturb you. On the other hand… he wanted to be that teddy bear.

Idia stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, trying to decide what to do. He wrung his hands together, muttering to himself like a character weighing dialogue options.

"Option A: Let them sleep. Pros—cute and peaceful. Cons—no interaction.

Option B: Wake them up. Pros—I get attention. Cons—they might get mad."

Before he could settle on an answer, you stirred, stretching with a groggy yawn. Your eyes fluttered open, and you blinked at him standing there, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

"Idia?" you mumbled, setting the console aside. You gave the teddy bear one final pat before tossing it away and reaching out to him. "C’mere.”

His heart skipped a beat. “M-me?!”

“Obviously you,” you teased with a sleepy smile, pulling him into a hug as soon as he got close enough.

Idia practically melted into your arms, his hair shifting to a bright pink. His smugness quickly returned, though, as he realized the teddy bear had been successfully ousted. "H-heh. +1 affection point for me," he muttered under his breath, his voice a mix of pride and shyness.

You raised an eyebrow, laughing softly. “Affection point? Idia, you already maxed out your affection gauge ages ago.”

His brain short-circuited again, and he buried his face in your shoulder, muffling a squeaky, “D-don’t say stuff like that!”

“Why not?” you teased, leaning back to look at his glowing face. “You’re adorable when you blush.”

Idia groaned dramatically, his hair flaring brighter as he tried to hide behind his bangs. But despite his embarrassment, he managed to wrap his arms around you, pulling you closer.

“Fine, whatever. Just… don’t let go, okay?” he muttered, his voice soft.

You chuckled, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Not a chance.”

From the corner of the room, the discarded teddy bear sat forgotten, a silent casualty in Idia’s victorious conquest for your affection.

Malleus Draconia

It had been a peaceful evening—stars twinkling, a cool breeze wafting through the window, and the promise of a lovely stroll under the moonlight. Malleus had been particularly pleased with the weather and decided to invite you for an evening walk.

He entered the room, his usual serene expression softening when his eyes fell upon you. But then, he froze.

There you were, curled up in bed, holding a plush dragon in your arms like it was the most comforting thing in the world.

A deep rumble echoed in the distance.

You blinked, sitting up slightly. “Was that… thunder?”

Before you could ponder further, a crack of lightning lit up the sky outside, followed by the booming roar of thunder that seemed to shake the walls. You stared out the window in disbelief.

“But it was perfectly clear two minutes ago!” you exclaimed.

Turning back to Malleus, you found him standing as still as a statue, his eyes narrowed and locked onto the offending plushie in your arms. The air around him practically crackled with energy.

“Uh… Malleus?” you ventured carefully, glancing between him and the plush.

His voice was low and serious, tinged with a hint of betrayal. “Is that what brings you comfort in my absence?”

You stared at him for a moment, then at the plushie, before the realization dawned. Suppressing a laugh, you decided to play along.

“Oh no, this?” you said, holding up the plush with exaggerated disdain. “This means nothing to me.”

Malleus arched a brow, clearly unconvinced, though his eyes remained laser-focused on the dragon-shaped invader.

To really drive the point home, you dramatically tossed the plush into the corner of the room. “See? It’s nothing compared to you, my most handsome, powerful dragon.”

You spread your arms and wrapped yourself around Malleus, resting your cheek against his shoulder. His stiff posture eased almost immediately, and the thunderstorm brewing outside dissipated as if it had never existed.

“Hmm,” he hummed, his voice quieter now but still holding a touch of haughtiness. “I suppose it’s only natural. I am your favorite dragon, after all.”

“You’re my only dragon,” you said with a chuckle, leaning back to look at him.

Malleus gazed down at you, his expression softening into something tender. “Good,” he murmured, placing a hand under your chin to tilt your face up. “I would hate to compete with a mere stuffed toy for your affection.”

You laughed, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You’re lucky you’re so cute, you know that?”

He blinked, visibly startled by the compliment, his ears tinging slightly red. “Cute? I… I do not believe ‘cute’ is the word one typically uses to describe the future king of Briar Valley.”

“Well, I do,” you said, smiling mischievously as you planted another kiss on his lips.

Malleus let out a deep sigh, though the corners of his mouth quirked upward. “You are… quite the peculiar human, my love.”

“And you wouldn’t have it any other way,” you teased.

Malleus chuckled softly, pulling you closer. Outside, the weather had returned to the calm, moonlit serenity it was before—a perfect night for a walk. Though judging by the way Malleus held you now, neither of you seemed in any rush to leave.

Rollo Flamme

After a long day of dealing with incompetent council members, insufferable students, and the lingering stench of magic in the air, Rollo Flamme was finally free. As he walked into your shared room, his shoulders relaxed slightly at the thought of seeing you. Your presence was always the perfect antidote to his day’s irritations.

But then, he saw it.

There you were, curled up in bed, holding a plush dragon that was far too detailed for his liking. Its smug, embroidered eyes glinted in the soft light, as if mocking him. Worse, it was lounging on his side of the bed.

He froze mid-step, the betrayal hitting him like a thunderbolt.

You looked up, immediately noticing his stricken expression. “Rollo? Are you okay?”

He didn’t respond, his gaze locked on the plushie with such intensity it was a wonder it didn’t burst into flames.

You tilted your head, following his line of sight. “Oh, this?” you said, holding up the dragon plush with a smile. “I won it at the arcade today! Isn’t it cute?”

Glass shattering. Dramatic violins. Betrayal.

“...A dragon,” he said, his voice low and tight.

“Yeah,” you said, hugging it closer without realizing the depth of the offense. “It’s so soft, and look at its little wings! They’re kind of shiny—”

“Does it need wings?” he cut in sharply, glaring at the plush like it had personally insulted him.

You blinked. “Rollo, are you... mad at the plushie?”

He straightened immediately, huffing indignantly. “Mad? At a stuffed toy? Don’t be absurd.”

But the way his eyes flicked back to the plush betrayed him, the subtle narrowing of his gaze screaming volumes.

You couldn’t help it—you laughed. “Oh my gosh, you are mad! Is it because it’s a dragon? Does it remind you of Malleus?”

His jaw tightened. “I do not dignify such comparisons with a response.”

You grinned, setting the plush aside. “Well, if it bothers you so much, I can just put it away.”

“It doesn’t bother me,” he lied, though his shoulders eased a fraction when you stood and picked up the plushie.

“I’ll banish it to the closet,” you teased, waving the dragon plush dramatically before stuffing it into the closet. “There, see? Gone.”

Rollo exhaled quietly, his usual stoic demeanor returning. “Good. It’s for the best.”

You walked over and wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your cheek against his shoulder “You know you’re the only one I’d ever actually want to cuddle, right?”

His ears turned red, and he cleared his throat, but his arms instinctively came up to hold you close. “I would hope so,” he muttered, though his tone softened as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

As you snuggled against him, he allowed himself a moment of peace, though his mind wandered. He would have to get you something far superior—something elegant and tasteful. Perhaps a plush raven or something equally refined. Certainly nothing with wings or scales.

You smiled against his chest, feeling the tension leave his body. “You’re not still mad, are you?”

“No,” he said quickly. “But I’ll be... keeping an eye on your choice of arcade prizes in the future.”

You laughed, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Whatever you say, Rollo.”

Deep down, he wasn’t entirely sure if he’d won or lost this battle, but with your arms around him, he decided it didn’t really matter.

Masterlist

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

To Your Love That Smells Like Crazy

Synopsis: Damian presented as an alpha, to everyone's despair. He announced he found a mate, to everyone's skepticism. You're the perfect omega, to everyone's delight.

Pairing: Yandere!Alpha!Batboys X Gn!AFAB!Omega!Reader

Tw: 18+ pwp; noncon/dubcon smut; noncon drugging; creepy batfamily members feeling attracted to Reader when they were still 15, but nothing sexual or romantic between them happens until they're 18; this chapter is mostly Damian x Reader; ABO, Reader is an omega, all the batboys are alphas; Heat symptoms; Damian and Reader are 15 at first, when the smut happens they're 18, Tim is three years older than them, Jason is five years older, Dick is 10 years older and Bruce is on his 40s; Implied future gangbang? They want to share Reader (polyamory) but right now the real action is just between Damian and Reader; Loss of virginity on both parts; Implied that Damian is also inexperienced on kissing and Reader knows a little more about that; Fingering!R receiving; Slight schoolgirl/boy/person!Reader; Reader wears lipgloss, nail polish and earrings; Omegas breasts produce milk during heat; Some breastfeeding; Breeding kink; The word ‘rape’ is used twice; Lots of crying; Nipple play; Dirty talk; Negative and selfdeprecating thoughts; Claiming ownership; English isn't my first language.

Word count: 4,7k

Requested? No.

Extra notes: Planning on making one pwp chapter for each batboy, and then a last one with no smut. Also, I think I'm gonna start posting on AO3 since the tw are getting worse...

General masterlist

Damian was territorial, dominant and temperamental since the family had known him. Maybe he was born like that, maybe he wasn't, they couldn't know, so, what they most hoped for was that those were just personality traits, maybe coping mechanisms, and the puppy would present as an omega or beta one day, and then maybe the hormones would make him calm down. It was a small possibility, but one could only dream, right?!

Well, those hopes were crushed when, at his fifteenth birthday, Damian woke up growling at the mix of strong alpha scents stinking his room, his territory, and started pacing inside there, not allowing anyone but the old beta Alfred to come in.

He calmed down after a couple of hours, came out of his room to eat breakfast, assessed and scented the rest of his territory (everyone's territory, really, the manor was the family’s home), and maybe humor his inner alpha by subjugating the rest of the pack. It didn't work, obviously, they were all mature alphas who went through puberty already and knew how to (mostly) manage conflict with a newly-turned alpha who still smelt like milk and was just overwhelmed with hormones.

After a full belly, it was decided he shouldn't have to go to school for the first few days (something the teenager was happy with), to learn to control his mood and impulses, visit a specialized doctor to be sure what kind of suppressants were better suited for his organism, and so he could go through his first rut in peace.

A few days later, Damian went back to school, nose itching from some not-so-pleasant alpha scents, some weak beta scents, some sugary omega scents, and a lot of milky scents coming from most students, especially unpresented puppies.

He wondered how adults live like this, if he would just get used to it, and it wouldn't bother him so much one day. One thing was to feel the smell of flowers or food, another thing was to feel people’s pheromones. But his train of thoughts were halted when he felt you.

Not even inside the classroom yet, but he could sniff you out and find you if he wanted to. Strong, yet suave, soft. Strawberries. And milk. It made his whole body shudder and tremble. Now he knew why his family occasionally asked where the delicious scent stuck to his clothes came from. Now he knew why alphas turned their heads and stared at you so much when you both were walking around. It was all you. His best friend.

Damian stared openly and unconsciously, while you made your way to him none the wiser and sat down at his side, and he almost got annoyed when, at first, you didn't seem to notice his new presentation, as if you didn't even acknowledge him as an alpha yet. But then you turned and stared at him strangely.

— Dude, why’re you staring so mu- Oh. — You blinked, finally having realized where the new musky scent was coming from. — You're lucky you smell good. My neighbor smells like feet.

When he came home, he announced he had an omega.

Obviously, that left everyone bewildered as to what he meant by that, it was impossible for during his first day back outside as an alpha, he already had a mate. But he didn't have to explain much for them to understand, the scent on his clothes was enough proof as to why he wanted you for himself.

After that, Damian invited you to hang out with him at the manor for the first time. It caused a reaction in everyone, and all of them were home, of course they were, Damian wanted to show off his future mate, and you had to meet the family, since he single-handedly decided you were going to join their pack already.

As you walked past each door on the way to Damian's room, everyone had a reaction.

The old beta and grandfather, Alfred, was very polite and nice, he smelt like tea. He smiled more freely with how sweet you were, amused by Damian's clear crush.

Next, you passed Dick by the gym, he smelt spicy, and his door was open, so he could peek better to satiate his curiosity when Damian's crush arrived, yet, he didn't expect to almost fall from his stretching position when he finally took a whiff from your sweet scent for the first time, instead of just the faint and weak thing that occasionally got stuck on Damian's clothes and hair. He managed to look mostly presentable even though he almost sprinted to the corridor to meet you. Dick was even more pleased to see you were beautiful, even in your modest school uniform. He forced himself to hold back and stay in the gym when Damian decided the interaction took long enough, and pulled you to keep walking.

Jason was next, he was in the library. His scent was thick. Woody. He coughed around his drink when he felt your scent, and Damian rolled his eyes at him. Jason’s whole body froze when he saw how soft you looked, clearly an omega. He noted that you looked older than fifteen, but Jason knew you were just a couple of months older than Damian, and you still smelled like milk. His attraction to you bothered him because he couldn't ignore your still-milky scent, and he was already imagining how you would smell like when you fully reached maturity. Your hair was shiny and looked soft, like clouds and cotton-candy. He wanted to stick his nose there and hug you. You looked the perfect company for a nap (and more). Damian quickly steered you away to keep walking.

Next was Tim, he was in his room, and he smelt like peppermint. He always kept the door closed, but during your visit, it was open wide, due to his curiosity to meet you, everyone knew that. Tim snapped his eyes away from his computer when he felt you, and stared at you wide-eyed when you appeared. You didn't even come inside, Damian didn't want to feel your scent coming off of Tim's room to haunt him every time he walked past that door for the next days. It would definitely make him want to kill his brother. Tim tried to burn your image to his brain to the smallest details. He noted the color of your nail polish, your earrings, the thing dangling from your backpack, the shine and rosiness of your lip gloss. Tim specially liked your soft-spoken voice, and it bothered him how polite, neutral and distant it was, because clearly you both didn't now each other, you were just there as Damian's friend, meeting his older brother for the first time, and just wanted to go hole up inside Damian's room as soon as possible to avoid the weird interaction.

Soon, your wishes came through, and you spent the next few hours there with Damian basically teaching you everything and doing your homework. It was a new behavior, he never did that out of instinct before, some people asking him for help would annoy him, others, like you, he would calmly help out of the hidden kindness in his heart, but he never took initiative before. You brushed it off as just new alpha behavior and just used his either gentlemanly or condescending behavior, if it meant you could gain things out of it and be lazy.

At dinner, you finally met his father. Bruce Wayne was the alpha of a pack full of alphas and a beta. His himbo and playboy persona gave you the impression that he wasn't the most dominant alpha around, but you were proven wrong when you felt his sandalwood aroma and saw his towering frame. His personality was the same you saw on the TV, though, pleasant like a TV host or just a popular guy. On the inside, he was fixated with you, ignoring your milky childish scent and your school uniform. He wanted you around the house more. God knows how much a bit more of softness could help the family’s dynamic. Maybe that was what was missing, an omega around the place. Like you. Actually, it could be you. He thought about convincing Damian to stick to living in the manor even after you were both married adults. Or you could be Bruce’s when you were of age. Wait, how old were you?

Alfred drove you and Damian to your place after everything was done, all the alphas with a heavy heart, bothered that you had to go, that you couldn't spend the night with them yet. Even if you were already theirs.

It took a lot to convince Damian to share you, but eventually, he begrudgingly agreed, they were a pack, after all, not just a family, they stick together, take care of each other and of each other's interests. Having something that wasn't just vigilantism in common would be good bonding for them, and the closer a pack could get, the better. That he knew. A pack sharing someone wasn't exactly unheard of either.

After that, Damian started inviting you to the manor more often. Almost every week you were there. Your parents started saying that Damian probably was interested in you, but you laughed it off, never thinking an alpha like him would be interested in an omega like you.

The family made the best of that time to get you used to them, to their dynamic, and to make you feel at home, safe, trustful. They also wanted your scent to get stuck everywhere. To get to know you. To learn everything about you. To make plans.

When Damian's 18 birthday came, you were already legally an adult too, and they invited you over, saying it was a birthday party. When you got there, the party consisted in only you and the family.

The conversation was nice.

They put drugs on your piece of cake that simulated an out of cycle heat.

It started with fatigue.

Then fever.

Your eyes got blurred.

You thought you were getting sick, and just planned on taking cold medicine when you got home.

The alphas were slowly coming closer and circling you, unnoticed.

You felt weird in your intimate parts, maybe you needed to pee.

You stood up, but your knees were weak, and you almost fell, if it wasn't for Dick, who caught you mid-air.

All scents became clearer when your eyes locked. You wondered what the look on his face meant, confused.

You felt their excitement, and arousal. And you felt something poking your thigh.

You felt your own underwear getting wet.

You asked them to take you home, but they denied. That made you feel antsy, so you tried searching for your phone to call your parents to pick you up, but you couldn't find it. It got especially hard when Damian picked you up and started walking up the stairs with you.

— It's okay, omega. You're okay with us. I’m going to take care of you… — Your hands trembled when he purred the word ‘omega’, mumbled those words, and nuzzled the side of your head with his nose, taking a deep breath from your sweet strawberry scent, and faint sex smell, due to the wetness between your thighs. No longer any hint of milk anymore, since you already reached maturity just a couple of months before him, and now he also didn't smell like puppy anymore.

— N-No… D-Dami… W-Where are you taking me? What a-are you gonna do? … I wanna go home… I’m not feeling good… — You whimpered and tried to weakly move out of his hold, it didn't work.

— You are home, beloved. And I’m going to help you feel better… With my knot. — Your eyes widened. — I will fuck you real good and fill you with my semen. I know it is your first time, it is mine too. But do not worry, your heat will make it painless and you will be satisfied with me. — You whimpered higher, your omega was preening, crying for a knot, your pussy squeezing hard, but your mind knew it was wrong. Clearly something was wrong. Why was no one helping? Couldn't they see you were caught by surprise with your heat and were saying no to him? Why were they looking at you like that? A cough coming from somewhere seemed to snap Damian out of it, like he remembered something. — Ah, right. And then, you will receive father’s, and my siblings' knots. I will go first since it’s my birthday and I claimed you first. — Damian blushed, despite his smug tone. 

You cried for help, at first, it came out weak, as your omega didn't want to make something the alphas would disapprove of, but the closer you got to the room they designated for the moment, the reality of what was coming was overtaking your instincts. Especially after your belly started to hurt at being empty of seed.

The alphas only shushed you, and you helplessly watched as Tim handcuffed one of your hands to the bedpost as soon as Damian laid you down on the nest they made for you, and Dick and Jason each started taking your sneakers off. Bruce was standing a few feet away from the bed, Alfred at his side. The oldest alpha’s eyes were glued to your laid down figure, hungry and serious. Darker than you had ever seen. You've never been more scared of him before. He occasionally commented something to Alfred, that you vaguely registered as instructions, that also started being given to his children.

You weakly tugged at the handcuff and tried to sit up at the same time, but Damian pushed himself between your legs, and held you down by the waist. Dick and Jason held your legs open to accommodate him better, and your overwhelmed brain barely noticed their hands also rubbing your ankles and thighs. You've never felt more aroused and more scared your whole life. 

Alfred exited the room to start doing Bruce's orders, and he kept watching. Tim, who had disappeared out of your line of sight for a second, came back holding a long, shiny and glinting pair of scissors. You tugged harder at the restraints and tried to push your body up to get away, thinking he was going to hurt you, but he just purred at you to calm you down, unfortunately, it worked, and your pussy tightened when Damian hissed at feeling your center pressing against his hard cock, when you pushed your hips up and against his. You could feel him poking your underthigh, only the clothes separating you.

— It's okay, omega, I’m just cutting off your clothes, it's gonna be easier to strip you that way. — Tim said soothingly, while purring and almost cooing at you. Your eyes widened when he said that, and actually started cutting your shirt open, until Dick was able to pull the ruined fabric off from under you. 

All three alphas started purring at seeing your braless torso, chest already swelling with milk and nipples darkened. Omegas body produced milk when they had a puppy to feed, or during heats, and ruts, when an alpha was in a rut, and the omega was helping them, because the body understood it was a rough period, where a lot of energy was spent and not much nutrition came, since both were too busy procreating and too weak to go searching for food, so the milk was a lot helpful in those moments. There were even historical moments where that skill was useful in other contests, when the economy got so bad that most packs were starving, and the omegas of the pack helped them survive with milk.

Damian bit his lips and brought his right hand up to your left breast, squeezing it softly. Everyone was entranced, watching a single drop of milk come out, the breast not full yet. You arched your back, it felt good, so good that for a moment you forgot why you wanted to get away. Damian also didn't help your train of thought when his thumb started rubbing your stiff nipple, sending ripples of pleasure through your body and forcing your eyes closed. You forced yourself not to make a sound.

You snapped out of it when you felt Tim cutting your pants and underwear off. Your eyes widened at the feeling of being exposed and the almost cold air that made your hair stand. Your legs trembled and you felt Dick and Jason's hands working, uncoordinated pads of fingers dancing across the inside of your thighs. 

Your arousal’s scent freely infastated the room now, and half of them growled, in exception of Bruce and Tim, who were keeping themselves more calm and collected. 

— It's time to go now, let Damian and (Y/N) have their moment. — Bruce announced and you watched as Damian smirked, then you hid your face, sobbing against the pillow. He cooed at you while his other hand went down between your legs and started rubbing slow circles while pressing against your clit.

Dick sighed.

— Take care of them, Dami. Have fun and enjoy. — Dick patted Damian's shoulder, but you weren't sure the alpha above even noticed you, too busy gazing at you and your body, enjoying how warm and wet you were. 

— Yeah, remember to do what we taught you, baby bird. — Damian only hummed at Jason's comment, and leaned down, pressing his chest to yours. He brought his mouth to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, and started leaving a trail of kisses up your neck, and under your jaw.

It was your first time feeling someone doing this, when you read fanfics and books, you never thought this could feel good like the writing always described, but it actually did, and you hated that you liked it, crying harder against the pillow and hoping his lips weren't moving closer to your face because he wanted to kiss you. You felt his nose sniffing your scent gland.

Tim hummed.

— Be careful with them, and don't take too long, everyone wants their turn. — Tim warned softly and was the last to exit the room, closing the door, but not locking it.

Damian’s warm breath huffed against your neck.

— Finally alone… — Damian whispered with a hoarse voice that made your hair stand. You whimpered and squeezed your eyes harder.

— Please, let me go… You don't have to do this, I won't tell anyone- — Your sentence was cut short when one of Damian's long and thick fingers invaded your entrance delicately. Your mouth opened on a silent scream, and the alpha watched you with lust in his eyes.

— Beloved… Omega… You will come to like this, I promise you that… — He sucked a faint hickey on your scent gland. His right hand started exploring the rest of your body, fumbling and squeezing the softer parts he found out he liked the most. You couldn't control your panting and small moans when his finger curled upwards inside you, touching your sweet spot. 

— D-Dam-... A-Alpha… — You arched your back when he started fingering you faster, your sensitive walls milking a single finger, crying for a thick knot, thirsty for his seed, your womb empty of puppies. 

— See… — He kissed your cheek. — We barely started, and yet… — Another kiss, closer to your mouth. — You're already dripping and earning for my knot… — Your lips met, it didn't seem like he had much experience, maybe it was his first kiss? Either way, you knew a little more about what you were doing, and he quickly learned. In just a few minutes, he was dominating your mouth. The younger alpha gave a slow bite to your lips when a second finger joined the first in fucking you, wet noises eccoing around the room.

You gained some clearance after a few moments, when he took his fingers off. You whined, not knowing if it was to plead him not to rape you, or because you wanted his cock stuffing you as soon as possible. You tried to force your head away from his, and he relented, pausing the kiss, but only to start taking his own clothes off. If your face wasn't already hot from the fever and arousal, you knew it would be now, feeling shy with everything new that was happening and his naked body, and surprised that you never once noticed his muscles before. 

While afraid, you peeked down and saw his hard and bobbing dick, it was thick and above average, but not too much. Not too much for someone who wasn't a virgin like you were, that is.

You tried to sit up, to get away from him in a bolt of strength you didn't have until now, fighting your omega with as much as you could. But it proved to be no help, as it punished you by making your belly tug and hurt twice more. Your torso fell down on the bed again, powerless by pain, numbness, and the restraint around your wrist.

Damian only cooed, still kneeling above you and between your legs. You cried. You didn't feel his calloused hands holding and caressing your hips, but you felt the blunt wet tip against your entrance. You were ruined.

Your parents would hate you. They would say it was your fault for ignoring their warnings and shoving yourself inside a home full of alphas with no omega. They would kick you out of the pack. And if the Wayne's did good on their word of raping you one after the other, you would probably get pregnant, as you weren't on birth control. That is, if they didn't kill you or kept you hostage in their basement. And even if your pack wanted to, they wouldn't be able to do anything to get justice for you, as the Wayne's were much more influential and rich. You were only going to the same school as Damian because your parents worked as teachers there, for god's sake. You were doomed. And if they decided to mark you…

You cried harder, ashamed of being so aroused now and so dumb all along. For the first time, you hated being an omega.

But all those self-deprecating thoughts were muffled when he finally invaded you. It was slow, gentle, testing how things felt. Damian heaved a breath and buried his face on your neck, breathing your scent deep. It felt amazing, for the both of you. You were so deep in your heat that of course it wasn't going to hurt at all, silly you. Those alphas were right, they are always right. They can take care of you.

— … More… Please, I want more… — You moaned and tried moving your hips against his, forcing his cock to push against your walls faster. Damian's head snapped up, looking at you with interest and lust. You were already cockdrunk, as he was pussydrunk, and he wasn't even halfway inside yet.

He bottomed out with more hurry, after pulling in and out twice to test if you really weren't in pain. He moaned deep against your face before shoving his lips against yours again, while he thrusted his hips. The alpha found the perfect rhythm while pulling almost all the way in and out, in a steady dance. Your moans got louder by the second, your inner omega happy with all the attention you were receiving.

Your free hand shot up to rest on his back, nails digging his scarred skin, not knowing what to do. Damian's hips gradually grew in force, until the bed was shaking and softly hitting the wall. The sound of your hips colliding and your wetness clear as day didn't bother you, as you only started begging for the alpha. To be owned. To be knotted. To be breeded.

— See how I take care of you… — He kissed down your collarbone, murmuring against your skin. — Make you feel good… — One of his hands slid down to grip your thigh, pulling your leg up, purposefully looking for a deeper angle to ravish you. You gasped as he found it, and his thrusts got harder. You mumbled a bunch of agreements to whatever he was saying, you just wanted his knot! — You're my omega now, our omega now… — He softly bit your pouting nipple, being considerate as to not hurt the sensitive and swelling area. Your hand trembled on his back and shot up to pull his hair in an overwhelming wave of pleasure. He pulled weakly at your nipple with his teeth scraping the nerves on the area, until he let it go. — We will stuff you full of cum everyday and every hour… — His lips trailed down your ribs, but the position didn't allow him to go further down. He wanted to leave kisses on your whole body, and now he could do that, because now you weren't escaping them. He growled, resigning himself to traill his lips up through the space between your breasts. Your body trembled with the sound. — Fuck you real good… You will never have to beg, omega, we will spoil you with everything you need, everything you want… — His huge hands trailed up your body until they reached your chest. He squished them for a moment, enjoying how soft they were, and how pliant you were, looking straight into your dazed cockdrunk eyes. Imagining how your perfect pups will look like. Milk started coming out in small drops, so silent that he only noticed when it was dripping down his hand. His eyes shot down to assess the view and his knot started growing at the sight of your swelling breasts and darkened nipples, giving up milk for him, for him, so soft his fingers were digging and moulding the flesh, all while they were dancing up and down, bouncing, seducing him. You were seducing him. You were stunning, ravishing, perfect without even trying. He was happy his pack was the one tying you down to them, he wanted to kill someone just for thinking that someone else could have you like this. — … And you will give us everything we want…

He tentatively, almost hypnotized, leaned down and sucked your stiff nipple between his soft lips, sucking a small amount of milk inside, letting It rest on his tongue for a moment, savouring the taste, before swallowing.

You were sensitive, with a dull ache, but his suckling helped with the pain and sent waves of flickering pleasure against your body. You could feel him forcing his knot with each thrust to fit inside you as it gradually grew, and gasped, whimpering pleas for more. Begging him to keep going and stuff you full. You were both getting close to orgasm. Damian shut his eyes hard, overstimulated with the growing pleasure. He let go of your breast when he started feeling his canines getting more protruded, itching to bite your neck and claim you, his eyes also getting brighter, his inner alpha waiting to take ownership over you. Strip you off the life you had before. Forcing you to subjugate, until the smallest cells in your body knew who you belonged to.

He didn't hold himself, of course, and your first mark soon made home above your collarbone, your souls locking together and the intimacy going to an extraordinary level when you reached the peak of pleasure in tandem, while his knot swelled and made you stuck together, stopping any drop of cum from going to waste.

Every single drop was forced to stay inside of you, and Damian lifted your almost limp head, you both drunk, still coming down from the waves of pleasure, and forced your lips against his neck, his scent gland, and you, whose omega and heat had taken over since the moment his cock invaded you, didn't hesitate to mark him back, locking the bond completely.

— Good omega, good omega…

Like, comment and reblog 🥰

[lizzieolseniskinda]

RAFE CAMERON - that’s so true

x HIGH MAINTENANCE! KOOK !FEM!reader - MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: you're insecure about your relationship with rafe, when he gets closer with sofia

WORD COUNT: +5.2k

GENRE: ANGST to fluff

CONTENT WARNING: /

listen to 'that's so true' from gracie abrams for better experience <3.

‘i could go and read your mind think about your dumb face all the time living in your glass house, i’m outside, uh’

the late afternoon sun filtered through the wide windows of tannyhill’s living room, casting a golden glow on the sprawling estate. you sat cross-legged on the plush cream couch, scrolling through your phone with one hand while idly tugging at the hem of your baby pink knit sweater with the other. notifications of luxury sales popped up intermittently, but your heart wasn’t in it today. instead, your mind was somewhere else. more accurately, on someone else.

across the room, rafe cameron leaned casually against the kitchen island, deep in conversation with sofia. the sound of her laugh—the kind that wasn’t too loud, not too fake—floated over, making your stomach twist.

sofia wasn’t your idea of a kook, not the kind who frequented boutiques or spent hours curating their aesthetic. her laid-back charm was effortless, her simple jeans and oversized hoodie a stark contrast to the tailored mini-skirt you had on. she didn’t even wear jewelry. yet, here she was, drawing rafe in with that natural ease, her hair in a messy braid like she didn’t care, and maybe she didn’t.

you hated how it made you feel. jealous. small. stupid.

“she’s kind,” you had said casually a week ago, after introducing him to her at a party. “quiet and smart girl. we grew up together.”

kind. quiet. the opposite of you.

rafe laughed at something she said, his face lighting up with that rare, genuine smile that made your chest ache. he looked at sofia like she reminded him of simpler times, back when life wasn’t all country club politics and family business drama. you tried to shove the feeling down, but it clawed its way back up, leaving you restless.

were you too much? the bi-weekly nail appointments, the balayage touch-ups every few months, the shopping sprees that felt more like therapy—was that what made you wrong for rafe? you’d caught a glimpse of sofia’s chipped nail polish earlier, and it was the type of thing rafe would probably call “charming.”

the thought was a jagged knife, twisting in your gut.

“babe, you good?” rafe’s voice broke your spiraling thoughts.

you looked up, startled, realizing he was staring at you now, his brows furrowed in mild concern. sofia was gone—when had she left?—and it was just you and rafe in the quiet hum of the room.

“yeah,” you lied, pasting on a smile. “just tired.”

“you sure?” he came closer, towering over you with his familiar scent of cologne and something distinctly rafe. his rough hand brushed your knee, a touch that was meant to reassure but only made you feel more exposed.

you nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “positive.”

he didn’t look convinced, but he let it slide, sitting down next to you and pulling you into his side. you let yourself sink into him, resting your head against his shoulder. the warmth of his body should’ve been comforting, but all it did was remind you of how far away you felt.

outside, the sun was setting, its rays casting shadows through the glass windows. you thought about sofia, imagined her in her car with the windows down, humming along to the radio, not worrying about being enough for anyone. and then you thought about yourself—polished, perfect, but perpetually on the outside, peering into rafe’s world, a world where you never felt like you truly fit.

rafe pressed a kiss to your hair. “you’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”

“of course,” you whispered, even though it wasn’t true.

‘looking into big blue eyes did it just to hurt me and make me cry smiling through it all, yeah, that’s my life’

the sound of waves crashing against the shore filled the air as you sat on the edge of the beach blanket, digging your manicured nails into the soft fabric. rafe and sofia were waist-deep in the ocean, laughing as the current pushed them around. she squealed when a wave hit her back, and rafe threw his head back in laughter, that easy, carefree laugh you loved so much.

but it wasn’t directed at you.

“you’re not going in?” sarah asked, plopping down next to you with her iced tea in hand. she stretched her legs out, glancing at you sideways.

“not really feeling it,” you replied, plastering on a smile as you smoothed the hem of your sundress. you didn’t trust yourself to look at the water again, not with how raw you were already feeling.

sofia’s voice cut through the air. “rafe! stop!” she shrieked, laughing as he splashed her with water. they looked like a scene out of some beachy rom-com—his strong frame towering over her, her golden-brown hair clinging to her neck as she playfully shoved him.

sarah gave you a look, one you didn’t need right now.

“what?” you asked, feigning confusion.

“don’t what me. you’re sitting here stewing when you should just talk to him.”

“there’s nothing to talk about,” you said quickly. too quickly.

sarah sighed. “you’ve been weird ever since sofia came back from europe. she’s your best friend. rafe’s your boyfriend. you need to chill.”

“yeah, i know that,” you snapped, guilt immediately twisting in your stomach. sarah wasn’t wrong, but the truth was too tangled for you to admit out loud.

you turned your head to steal another glance at them. sofia threw her head back in a laugh, her face turned toward the setting sun, water glistening off her skin like she was straight out of a magazine spread. and rafe, with his piercing blue eyes, couldn’t seem to look away from her.

your chest felt tight. you wanted to believe his gaze was harmless, that it was just the kind of attention sofia naturally drew wherever she went. but some dark, irrational part of you whispered that it wasn’t—that rafe was looking at sofia the way you wished he always looked at you.

they started heading back toward the beach, their laughter fading into the sound of the waves. you quickly fixed your expression, schooling it into something neutral, something practiced.

“hey!” sofia grinned as she plopped down next to you, wringing water out of her hair. “you missed out. the waves were amazing.”

“yeah, i just got my hair done,” you smiled lightly, ignoring the pang in your chest.

“your loss,” rafe said as he dropped beside you, his arm slinging around your shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world.

you leaned into him, smiling like you always did. sofia leaned over to pull a drink out of the cooler, and your gaze flicked between her and rafe, catching a glimpse of his blue eyes lingering on her for just a second too long.

your heart sank. but you didn’t say anything.

instead, you smiled wider, locking it all away like you always did. this was your life, wasn’t it? loving rafe. loving sofia. watching them shine brighter than you ever could while you tried not to let the cracks show.

‘you’re an idiot, now i’m sure now i’m positive, i should go and warn her’

the door to rafe’s room slammed shut behind you, the echo reverberating in your chest as you stood there, arms crossed, staring him down. the tension in the air was thick, neither of you willing to break the silence first.

it had started small, like these things always did. a casual question from rafe about why you’d been quiet lately, his concern laced with impatience when you deflected for the third time that day.

“you don’t even let me pay for anything anymore,” rafe said, his tone edged with irritation. “when was the last time you asked me to cover your nails, or your hair, or whatever? that’s what i’m here for.”

your stomach twisted, but you didn’t let it show. “i don’t need your money, rafe. i have my own.”

“that’s not the point,” he shot back, stepping closer. “it’s what i do. i’ve always done it. why are you shutting me out like this?”

“i’m not shutting you out,” you argued, your voice rising slightly. “i just don’t see why you have to make it a big deal every time i don’t ask you for something. maybe i don’t want to depend on you for every little thing.”

“that’s not what this is about, and you know it,” he said, his voice low, like he was trying to keep his temper in check. “you’ve been different, and now you’re acting like this is all on me?”

“i just don’t want to talk about it, okay?” you’d said, your voice sharper than you intended.

“that’s all you ever say now,” he shot back, raking a hand through his hair. “you’ve been acting weird for weeks, and i’m just supposed to ignore it?”

“i’m fine, rafe,” you insisted, even though you weren’t. not even close.

he let out a humorless laugh, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. “you know, for someone who talks as much as you, you sure don’t know how to open up when it matters.”

the words stung, more than you wanted to admit. you hated how he could get under your skin so easily, how he could take your worst fear—being too much and not enough at the same time—and throw it in your face without even realizing it.

“i’m going out,” you said abruptly, grabbing your purse and heading for the door.

“of course you are,” he muttered, not stopping you.

now, walking briskly through the cool, air-conditioned expanse of the shopping center, you tried to push the fight out of your mind. Retail therapy had always been your escape, and today was no different. the rhythmic click of your heels on the polished floor, the weight of designer bags in your hand—it was comforting, a distraction.

you turned into a high-end boutique, your favorite. the scent of expensive leather and vanilla greeted you, and you lost yourself in the rows of clothes, running your fingers over silky fabrics and embroidered details. you could almost forget the tightness in your chest, the ache that rafe’s words had left behind.

almost.

and then you saw her. sofia.

she was standing by the display of bags near the entrance, her back to you. she looked effortless as always, her hair falling in soft waves, her casual outfit perfectly understated. she was laughing softly at something the sales associate had said, the kind of laugh that seemed to echo in your mind even when she wasn’t there.

your heart twisted.

you thought about the fight with rafe, about how you’d stormed out without looking back. you thought about sofia, about how easy it was for her to exist in the same spaces you had to fight to belong in. and for a fleeting, bitter moment, you wondered if rafe would’ve preferred having her there instead of you.

she hadn’t seen you yet. you could walk over, say hi, pretend everything was fine like you always did. or you could keep going, let the distance grow a little wider.

you adjusted the strap of your bag on your shoulder and turned on your heel, walking past the boutique’s floor-length windows without sparing her a glance.

your phone buzzed in your hand as you entered a store. a text from rafe.

r :3

we need to talk when you get home.

your stomach churned, but you didn’t reply. not yet. you couldn’t face him, not like this. not when you were still reeling from the fight and the sight of sofia, from the gnawing feeling that you didn’t know who you were mad at anymore—sofia, rafe, or yourself.

another buzz.

r :3

i sent you $100. get something you want.

a bitter laugh escaped your lips. was this his way of apologizing, or trying to prove a point?

you slipped your phone into your purse, plastering on a smile for the cashier as you handed over your credit card. this was your life, wasn’t it? smiling through it all, even when you didn’t know how much longer you could keep it up.

‘ooh, bet you’re thinking she’s so cool kickin’ back on your couch, making eyes from across the room wait, i think i’ve been there too, ooh’

the steady hum of the air conditioning was the only sound in your room as you sat at the edge of your bed, staring at your phone. the screen lit up with a new message from sofia.

s<3

hey, i was thinking we should all hang out at tannyhill tonight. you, me, sarah—just a chill night. what do you think?

you bit your lip, hesitating. it had been a long day of avoiding rafe and thinking about him and sofia, about their chemistry that felt so effortless. you and sofia had been best friends for years, but lately, every time she invited you to hang out, it felt like something was missing, like the space between you two had grown wider.

but still… you couldn't shake the feeling that if you went, you’d just be putting on a show, pretending everything was okay when it clearly wasn’t. you didn’t even know what to say to her anymore, let alone to sarah. the thought of sitting around with them, pretending to have a good time, when your mind kept drifting back to the fight with rafe—it felt exhausting.

you typed out a response, your fingers heavy on the keys.

not tonight. don't feel good. rain check?

you stared at the message for a long moment, the weight of it sinking in. rain check. you were avoiding them. you were avoiding everyone

you hit send.

the moment the message left your screen, you shoved your phone into the bedside drawer and laid back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. the silence was deafening, the emptiness of the room suffocating. you closed your eyes, but even in the dark, your mind couldn’t stop spinning.

you imagined rafe at tannyhill with sofia and sarah. maybe they were all hanging out by the pool, laughing at some stupid joke sofia made, her hand casually brushing against rafe’s as they both leaned in to listen to sarah’s gossip. maybe rafe had his arm around sofia’s shoulders, that easy smile of his lighting up his face.

maybe rafe didn’t even notice how he was looking at her. maybe sofia didn’t even know how much it bothered you. but in your mind, it didn’t matter. they were perfect for each other in a way that you didn’t think you could ever be.

a dull ache spread through your chest, and your mind kept playing out the scene—rafe leaning in, talking to sofia in that easy, intimate way that made you feel invisible, like you didn’t even exist in the same world.

the thought hit you hard, almost like a punch to the gut. you’d seen them before, seen that look in his eyes when he wasn’t thinking about it, when it was so effortless. you had been there too. you had been the one sitting on the outside, watching the two of them, wondering if it was just in your head or if rafe truly felt something for sofia.

you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to shake the images from your mind. but the more you tried to push them away, the clearer they became. you could almost hear the sound of their laughter echoing in the distance, and it felt like you were drowning in it, unable to catch your breath.

you didn’t know when it had become like this, when everything had started to feel like a competition you weren’t even aware you were part of.

you heard your phone buzz from inside the drawer, pulling you from your thoughts.

a from rafe.

r :3

where are you?

you stared at the screen, your thumb hovering over the reply button. what could you even say? that you were imagining him and sofia at tannyhill, laughing without a care? that you were afraid of losing him to someone like her?

you didn’t reply. instead, you slid your phone back into the drawer, pulled the covers over your head, and tried to forget everything for a little while longer.

‘what’d she do to get you off? (uh-huh) taking down her hair like, “Oh my God!” taking off your shirt, i did that once, or twice, uh’

‘no, i know, i know, fuck off (off) but i think i like her, she’s so fun wait, i think i hate her, i’m not that evolved’

the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting an orange glow over the beach as you sat down on the sand, the familiar saltwater breeze ruffling your hair. kiara plopped down beside you, her sneakers kicking up a cloud of sand as she settled in, her brow furrowed in that way she did when she knew something was off.

“okay, seriously, what’s going on with you and rafe?” she asked, her voice gentle but direct.

you sighed, dropping your gaze to the sand between your feet. “what do you mean?”

kiara’s eyes softened with concern. “i haven’t seen you two together in forever. and you’ve been off, too. something’s not right.”

you let out a breath, staring at the horizon. “i don’t know, Kie. it’s... complicated.”

kiara raised an eyebrow. “complicated? that’s the word you use after dating for what—how long? over two years now?”

“yeah, well, that’s the thing,” you muttered, biting your lip. “it’s just been—” you paused, struggling to find the right words. “i don’t know. lately, it feels like rafe doesn’t even notice me. like, i’m always there, but not really there, you know?”

kiara tilted her head, studying you with concern. “what do you mean, not really there? he’s not paying attention to you?”

oyu shook your head, frustration bubbling up. “no, it’s like... he’s distant. he’s always been this way with me, but recently, it feels like it’s worse. like he’s more into sofia, or just... not into me, i guess. we’ve been fighting a lot.”

kiara was quiet for a moment, looking out at the waves. “okay, so, this has to do with sofia, doesn’t it?”

you let out a dry laugh, your gaze falling to your hands, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “yeah. yeah, it does.”

kie glanced at you sharply, her eyes narrowing. “you’ve always been close with sofia, right? she’s your best friend.”

“i know,” you replied, almost too quickly. “i love sofia, so much. she’s my best friend. i should be happy for her, right? but—” you stopped yourself, the words forming before you could stop them. “but, something i think... i just hate her, too.”

kiara’s eyes softened, and she reached across the table, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

“you’re not crazy for feeling this way. but don’t let it eat you alive. don’t let it destroy your relationship. if rafe’s the one, you need to talk to him about it. you need to tell him how you’re feeling, because keeping it all inside isn’t doing anyone any favors, especially not you.”

you took a shaky breath, feeling like there was more you needed to say, but didn’t have the words for. kiara was right, of course. you couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine when it was falling apart, but how could you explain the mess of emotions that tangled inside you? how could you put into words the way you felt about sofia—how much you loved her, and at the same time, how much you resented her for just being everything you weren’t?

“you’re right,” you finally muttered, still not fully convinced. “i just don’t know if i can handle it. what if i tell him and it just makes things worse?”

she gave you a knowing look. “you’ll never know until you try.”

you looked out over the horizon, the last rays of sunlight casting long shadows over the ground. you didn’t have the answers, but one thing was clear: you couldn’t keep living in this limbo, hating the things you couldn’t change, and pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t. you needed to figure it out, for your own sake.

“thanks, kie,” you whispered, leaning back in your chair, the weight of your emotions still heavy, but just a little bit lighter now that you’d said it out loud.

‘i’m sorry she’s missing it, sad, sad boy not my business, but i had to warn ya’

‘ooh, bet you’re thinking she’s so cool kickin’ back on your couch, making eyes from across the room wait, i think i’ve been there too, ooh’

‘oh-ooh (ooh), you’ve got me thinking (got me) she’s so cool (ooh) but i know what i know, and you’re just another dude ooh, that’s so true, ooh’

you had barely finished talking with kiara when your phone buzzed again, pulling your attention back to the screen. it was sofia.

hey, i just wanted to check in. are you mad at me? i feel like you’ve been avoiding me lately…

you froze, your heart tightening. it had been a few days since you’d distanced yourself from her, but you hadn’t meant to make her feel that way. your fingers hovered over the screen, unsure of what to say. you didn’t want to hurt sofia, but you didn’t know how to explain the mess inside your head.

after a few moments, you typed out a response, trying to keep it as light as possible.

i’m not mad at you, sof. just been dealing with some stuff. it’s not about you.

you hit send, watching the little bubbles appear as she started typing. but just before her reply came through, another text popped up. rafe.

hey, i just want to clear something up. sofia’s crying in Sarah’s room. she’s upset about something you said.

your stomach churned. you quickly opened the message.

i don’t know what exactly, but you’re wrong about what you said. she hasn’t done anything to you, and i think you need to talk to her. this is getting out of hand.

you sat there, staring at the message, feeling a mixture of guilt and confusion. what did rafe mean by that? what had you said that upset sofia? your mind raced, trying to piece things together, but all you could think about was the way he’d worded it—like you were the one who was in the wrong, like your feelings didn’t matter.

the weight of the words hung in the air, pressing down on you as you tried to make sense of everything.

sofia’s upset? you thought, feeling a pang of guilt wash over you. it wasn’t your intention to hurt her, not at all. but you couldn’t deny the feelings of frustration and jealousy that had been building up. you had felt pushed to the side, like you were being replaced by someone who was just… so much easier, so much cooler than you ever seemed to be.

why does she get everything so effortlessly? you wondered bitterly, remembering the way she seemed to shine so naturally in rafe’s world, her presence so casual, so unaffected. it only made your insecurities grow, but now it felt like you were the one in the wrong.

the next message from sofia finally came through.

i just don’t want to lose you as a friend. if something’s going on, i want to talk about it.

your heart dropped as you read it. you could feel the sincerity in her words, but also the pain. you couldn’t stand the thought of her being upset, especially when it was your fault. you’d always loved sofia, but this weird, twisted feeling you had—of hating her and wanting to be like her at the same time—wasn’t something you had ever known how to deal with.

a deep breath.

you thought about rafe’s message. about how he’d said you were wrong. he was always so quick to take sofia’s side, so quick to defend her, like you were the one in the wrong, even when you were just… trying to figure everything out.

you typed slowly, your fingers reluctant, still caught in the confusion.

i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to make you upset. i guess i’ve just been feeling a little off lately. things with rafe aren’t exactly… great right now.

you paused, rereading the words before hitting send, feeling vulnerable in a way you hadn’t in a long time.

not even a minute later, rafe’s name appeared on your screen again. this time, the message was short and to the point.

you need to talk to her, y/n. you’re blowing this out of proportion. just let it go and fix this shit.

the sting of his words hit harder than you expected. you clenched your jaw, resisting the urge to reply with something sharp. it wasn’t that you wanted to push him away—it was that you had no idea how to make him understand how this all made you feel.

you were getting lost in the frustration, in the feeling that no one really saw you, no one really understood where you were coming from.

but you knew you had to do something.

i’ll talk to her, you replied, the words feeling hollow. you didn’t know what you could say that would make everything right, but you knew you had to try.

you sat back against your pillow, staring at the screen, your mind racing. you thought about rafe, about sofia, about everything.

but you couldn’t let that be the end of it. not yet. you had to try. you had to fix it.

‘made it out alive, but i think i lost it said that i was fine, said it from the coffin remember how i died when you started walkin’? that’s my life, that’s my life’

the air was thick with tension as you stood in the living room with sofia and rafe, both of them waiting for you to say something, anything, that would explain the silence that had been hanging between you all for the past few days.

you took a deep breath, feeling the weight of everything you had been holding inside. "i just, need to talk," you said, your voice quieter than you’d intended, but it was enough to make them both focus on you.

sofia was sitting on the couch, arms crossed, looking at you with a mix of confusion and concern. rafe was leaning against the wall, arms folded too, his usual laid-back demeanor slightly tense.

“i know i’ve been distant lately, and i’ve been avoiding both of you, but it’s because of how i’ve been feeling… and i need you both to know that this is about me, not you.”

sofia raised an eyebrow, glancing at rafe before turning back to you. “what do you mean?”

you took a deep breath, the words feeling heavy as you let them spill out. “i’ve been feeling... insecure. i know it’s stupid, but when i see the way you two get along, it just—it gets to me. you and rafe, you make everything look so easy. and i feel like i have to work so much harder, just to keep his attention, just to feel like I’m enough.”

there was a long, heavy pause. rafe finally spoke, his voice gentle, his expression softening. “you’re wrong, though. i’m with you because i want to be with you. sofia and i are friends, nothing more. but you're the one i want.” he stepped forward, looking at you with a sincerity you hadn’t seen in a while. “i shouldn’t have let you feel that way. i’m sorry.”

sofia looked at you with wide, understanding eyes, her lips turning into a soft smile. “look, n/n, it took me forever to even get to a point where i could be okay with hanging out with him. no offense to you, rafe, but i didn’t want to mess things up for you because i didn't like him. i didn’t want you to think i was trying to steal him away from you. i thought if i could just get along with him, that it would make you feel better .i did it for you, because i thought that’s what you needed.”

your eyes softened, and you took a shaky breath, finally feeling the weight of the situation lifting just a little. “i didn’t know that,” you whispered. “i thought... i thought maybe you two were just, i don’t know, better together. you’re both so effortless, and i feel like i’m always trying too hard to be perfect.”

sofia’s face softened as she stood up, walking over to you and pulling you into a tight hug. “you don’t need to be perfect. you’re perfect just the way you are.” she pulled back slightly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “i don’t want you to ever think i’m a threat to you, okay? you’re my best friend, and nothing is going to change that.”

rafe, who had been watching quietly, took a deep breath, stepping forward to join you both. he reached out, pulling you into a hug as well, his voice low but sincere. “and i’m not going anywhere, babe. you’re the one for me. i’m not interested in anyone else, and i should’ve made that clearer before.”

oyu closed your eyes for a moment, feeling a rush of relief, a weight finally lifting off your shoulders. “i’m sorry, both of you,” you whispered. “i should’ve talked about this sooner instead of letting it fester.”

sofia laughed softly, wiping a tear from her cheek. “we’re good, okay? we’re all good now.”

you pulled back from her, still feeling the relief in your chest. “we’re good,” you echoed, smiling at her through your own tears.

there was a long moment of silence, and then rafe cleared his throat, awkwardly stepping back. “okay, okay, this is getting a little too emotional for me,” he said with a half-smile, trying to break the tension. “can we get back to the part where we all pretend we don’t have feelings?”

you both chuckled, wiping at your eyes and trying to stifle your laughter. you grinned at him. “aw, come on, don’t be so awkward about it. you’re so cute when you’re uncomfortable.”

“yeah, yeah, alright,” rade muttered, looking between the two of you. “but seriously, if you two are done crying, y/n, i think you should get those nails done. yhey’re looking a little... tacky.” he smirked, trying to lighten the mood.

you rolled your eyes playfully, looking down at your nails. “i know, right? yhey’ve been a disaster for weeks.”

sofia laughed, nodding. “let’s go get your nails done. it’ll be a perfect excuse to hang out together, and you can stop obsessing over whatever weird thoughts you’ve been having.”

you turned to Rafe, your smile growing wider. “you know what? you’re right. they’re awful.” you made a dramatic gesture at your nails. “i need a new look.”

rafe smirked, his hands stuffed into his pockets. “i’ll pay for it,” he said casually, glancing at the wall. “go on, get whatever you want. i don’t care.”

you stared at him in surprise. “really?”

he shrugged, not meeting your eyes. “yeah, why not? you deserve it. and i’ll do whatever makes you happy, okay?”

sofia looked at you, her grin widening. “see? even rafe knows you deserve a little treat.”

you shook your head, laughing softly. “alright, fine. let’s go. but only because i need a distraction from all the feelings today.”

the three of you made your way to the door, but before you stepped out, you turned to sofia, pulling her into another hug. “thank you,” you whispered. “for everything.”

she squeezed you tight. “always. now, let’s get you those nails, and then i want to hear about everything.”

as you all walked out the door together, rafe following behind you, you couldn’t help but feel lighter, like a weight had finally been lifted. things weren’t perfect, but they were real. and for the first time in a while, you felt like everything was going to be okay.

“alright, alright,” rafe said, his voice teasing as he slapped his hands together. “let’s get this nail thing over with. and don’t get any too crazy designs.”

you laughed, leaning into sofia as you all walked down the street.

"promise," you said, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like everything was exactly where it needed to be.

i’ll put up a fight, taking out my earringsdon’t you know the vibe? don’t you know the feeling?you should spend the night, catch me on your ceilingthat’s your prize, that’s your prize’

‘oh-ooh (ooh), you’ve got me thinking (got me) she’s so coolbut i know what i know, and you’re just another dudeooh, that’s so trueooh, ooh, uh’

[cherrygirlfriend]

pillow play pairing: perv!rafe x thornton!reader synopsis: perv!rafe jerks off to his best friend's sister who is humping her pillow. warnings: smut! male + female masturbation, voyeurism, MDNI! - wc: 1.2k i've taken a bit of a break from writing lately; mostly because i binge-read 5 books 6 days which is strange for me 😭 my foot might also be fractured which isn't great because i walked like five miles today so now both my feet hurt

if topper knew the kind of thoughts his best friend had about his sister, rafe knew topper would make sure he never even caught another glimpse of you. if only top knew that whenever he passed out during a party or just a casual hangout between the two, rafe would slip upstairs, walking down the hall until he reached the door to your bedroom, he'd twist the doorknob, some light filtering into your dark bedroom, making you move around in bed in a way that caused alarm bells to go off inside rafe's head, hearing his own heartbeat fill his ear as he stopped in his tracks.

but as soon as you stopped moving and continued to breathe softly as you slept, rafe would slip further into your bedroom, looking down at your serene, sleeping form with a mixture of fondness and guilt; he knew that this was something he absolutely shouldn't be doing, but the more he tried to resist it, the more he craved to do it; the more he craved you.

rafe would pull open the drawer he'd gotten to know so well, sneaking a pair of your lacy panties and slipping them into his back pocket, before making his way to your bed, kneeling next to it, the blonde watching as your chest rose and fell with every breath you took like it was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen, captivated by the sight.

he pushed a strand of hair away from your forehead, before connecting his lips with your forehead, causing you to let out a content sigh in your sleep. he hoped you were dreaming about him; even if it wasn’t likely. "goodnight, sleeping beauty."

this was another one of those nights; topper was passed out on the couch in his living room after the two had decided to drink beer and play call of duty, only for topper to pass out after rafe challenged him to a drinking game. rafe stood up and lightly shook his sleeping friend, but when topper simply mumbled something in his sleep like nothing had happened much like you did, rafe knew he was good to go.

slowly, he walked up the stairs, taking slow, quiet steps down halls that were lined with family pictures along with ones of you and topper when you were younger up to graduation, pictures he was sure he had passed a hundred times when he was making the trek to your bedroom, but as he looked at your bedroom door, decorated with a sign that had your name on it that had been there for as long as he could remember, rafe noticed that something was different.

the light was on.

usually, you were long asleep by this time; but as rafe got closer to your door, he could heard noises that were muffled by the hardwood door. he couldn't process it at first, but when you were just a little bit louder, he had a guess about what the cause of those little noises was, and so rafe pressed his ear against the door to make sure that he was hearing what he thought he was.

and there it was; you were letting out beautiful, breathy moans, the noise slightly muffled by the thickness of the door. carefully, rafe twisted the doorknob and pulled the door open just a crack, already hearing your pretty little noises much better, his jeans starting to feel tighter just from that. he had no idea how you had that big of an effect on him.

opening the door only slightly more, rafe peeked into the room, feeling like he might blow his load just from the sight displayed in front of him.

you were perched on top of one of your ruffly decorative pillows, your laptop open on the bed next to you, playing something less-than-appropriate, your face contorted in bliss as you rode your pillow, seemingly unaware of your surroundings, and seemingly unaware of who was watching you.

your body was covered only by a pair of panties that were all too familiar to rafe, having been a pair he'd seen in your drawer before, as well as a flimsy tank top that you were palming your tits through greedily, and the blonde couldn't resist bringing his hand to his belt, swiftly unbuckling it and unzipping his jeans as he watched you, your head thrown back in pleasure, rafe palming himself through his boxers.

he licked the palm of his hand to help slick it up, taking his cock out of his boxers, already standing at attention.

rafe watched as you pulled your tank top up slightly, showing a sliver of your tits, and even that was enough to make a small whimper escape his lips as he stroked his cock, the tip glistening with a drop of precum that he spread around his shaft as he continued stroking himself, wishing he could use your arousal to help lubricate him.

you hadn't heard the small sounds escaping him, or the slight fapping noise coming from his hand as he stroked himself, the man so infatuated by the sight of you getting yourself off on your pillow, your features contorting in pleasure, as he pictured that it was your hand stroking him, dreaming that he replaced the pillow you were grinding your pussy against, using him, rubbing your clothed cunt against his bare, hard cock.

this was the first time he had done something like that, watching you while getting himself off, but rafe knew that after he got a taste of it, he wouldn't be able to stop. it felt too good.

"unnghh..." you moaned breathily, feeling yourself get closer as you continued using the pillow on yourself, pressing it against your clit, the lacy pair of panties you wore covered in the arousal that had pooled around your legs, slowly causing even the pillow to get drenched as it dripped down your thighs.

rafe couldn't get himself to think about how wrong it was, about how topper would kill him if he found him in this situation; the only thing on his mind was you, and the way you'd look on his lap, riding him, those perky tits right in front of his face as you took all of him, your nails digging into his shoulders, how your smooth thighs would feel under his hands...

when you let out a particularly loud moan, rafe felt the pressure in his stomach snap, coating the inside of his jeans with his white, sticky cum, your movements stilling as you keeled over on the bed, completely out of breath and panting, while your laptop still replayed moans and sighs, and as he tucked himself back into his boxers and jeans, rafe knew that once you were dead asleep, he'd be paying you another visit and going through your laundry basket for the pair of panties you’d just soaked.

[gay-dorito-dust]

hey if ur requests are still open what do you think of an Arcane herald viktor turning reader into one of his hex angels on the rooftop thinking it will show them his vision of the ''glorious evokution'' only for it to turn reader into a empty husk and viktor realize in horror that he done goofed

Don’t we love a bit of angst here on this blog, especially when it concerns arcane Jesus.

‘Viktor, don’t.’ You pleaded, far too tired to keep up the fighting anymore, not against someone you once-no- still cared for deeply. ‘Please stop this madness.’ You add as you struggled weakly against his grasp on your chin, keeping you in place against him as he made sure to keep your head careened back, just so to keep you looking up at him as his other hand was etching closer towards your forehead.

Your heart was racing within your chest as your eyes tried to see for an opportunity out of Viktor’s grasp, only to see that your weapon -a crowbar- was too far from your reach, and even if you were able to break free form Viktor you still had to fight your way through the wave of Hex Angels to get to your weapon. All hope for you was lost in this moment and you knew that screaming for help wouldn’t help much either as you didn’t know if anyone who wasn’t turned into one of those humanoid creatures already.

‘Don’t fight against what is already predestined my dear.’ Viktor said, his distorted voice still calm and certain within his new form as it towered over you, orange eyes glaring down at you in a manner that made you feel over exposed. ‘I just wish for you to see what I see.’ He continued as his fingertips brushed against your forehead, startling you as you began to thrash in his arms once again, the urge to escape and stay who you were was strong but Viktor was stronger as he tightened his grip on you once more; a touch that once made you calm and reassured now only emphasised the hopelessness within your chest that only felt more and more inevitable than ever the more fingertips were pressed against your forehead.

‘Viktor I don’t want to go.’ You whimpered, pawing at his hand that held your chin but before you could continue to plead for your freedom, the last of Viktor’s fingers was pressed against your head and everything became blank as your eyes glazed over, mouth became agape in wordless babbling as your body underwent the same transformation as the other Hex Angels before you.

Viktor on the other hand was waiting for you within the star scattered astral plane, but when a couple of minutes have passed and you hadn’t appeared before him still he felt something was wrong, very wrong. You should’ve been here by now so that he could make you see what he could, the glorious evolution the he knew was destined to come about, hoping that you’d understand and willingly join by his side in his quest like you once did before he became…all this.

‘My dear?’ He calls aloud, his voice echoing throughout the star light space that seemed to stretch on endlessly.

‘My love? My muse?’ Viktor calls again as he felt what semblance of his heart remained tighten in pain and worry, all very human emotions that he thought he had forgone that were now rushing back when he couldn’t see you, nor feel you when he stretched his hand out in hopes of sensing you within the same plan of existence as him.

Nothing. You were nowhere to be found nor felt or even heard and that only made Viktor frown as his mind races with logical explanations as to what you were hiding from him. ‘I can’t feel you my beloved.’ He says to himself as he tries once again, this time more desperately to find you but only to have it come back the same as before, nothing. It was almost as if you didn’t want him to find you and if they were the case then why? Why hide from him? You knew he would never bring you to actual harm right?

Viktor was at a loss for words as he brought his hand back to his side. ‘I can’t feel you,’ he murmured to himself, ‘why can’t I feel you my heart?’ He furrows his brows as he continues to look for you within the astral plan, his thoughts getting worse when it looked like you never entered it in the first place. No. That couldn’t be, Viktor didn’t want to imagine it that way at all as he immediately resorted to denial that something horrible had happened to you. You were far stronger than that, Viktor knew this to be fact as the memories flooded to his head of the times where you’ve proven to be the strongest person he knew his entire life.

Look something within Viktor told him.

Look and see what has become of your beloved it said once again as Viktor looked and saw that where your beautiful face once looked up at him was now a sleek, lifeless golden accented mask with a golden webbing of a thorny crown that rested upon your head and a pair of unique golden streaks running down your mask from where your eyes would’ve been, almost like tear stains. You had become one of his hex angles, lifeless, devoid of all emotion; never to ever again utter a single word in protest or excitement for that was all stripped away from you; Just another husk of person that Viktor could use and his heart cracked in two.

You weren’t here in the astral plan either him because he might as well have killed you for there was not an ounce of you left that he could pick up on, you were gone and it was all because of him.

The machine herald cradled your skew sleek face between metallic hands, running his thumbs over where your cheeks once were as though reminiscent before leaning down to rest his head against your own and letting out a mournful sigh. ‘I’m sorry my beloved.’ His distorted voice murmured, waiting for a response that he’ll never get, which only seems to hurt him even more as was practically cradling your husk of a body to his own, in an all too human act for someone of his calibre. ‘I’m so sorry.’ He whispers as he’s brought to his knees, stilling holding on to you tightly but you didn’t rub his back nor cradled his face like you once did, you just stood there as you looked ahead as though awaiting orders.

‘This isn’t how I wanted it to be! I just wanted to show you what we could’ve become!’ The herald cried but it was useless, anyone that was left to care was too far away to hear or was gone entirely due to the raging conflict below you both. ‘I didn’t mean it, I didn’t meant it. I can fix you I promise.’ Viktor didn’t know who he was promising this to anymore, you? No you were gone. Himself? He wasn’t quite sure if he could even reverse the damage already too far gone. So who was he truly fooling other than the his other Hex angels, who only stared blankly as their herald cradled one of their own within his arms, clearly in a state of mourning and utter regret.

All Viktor could do was say he was sorry over and over again as if that was going to help undo what he had done to you. His heart breaking over and over again when you didn’t do the things you would’ve done when he was like this, serving as a grim reminder that he had taken away the one person who cared about him for who he was, disease or not; He had taken away his own god given solace and now he has to deal with the consequences of his own actions as he held your hex angel form close, wishing to hear your heart beat again.

Bonus cuz I’m feeling evil;

In another reality, one where the hexcore has destroyed and consumed everyone, Viktor -now in a somewhat human body after some trial and tribulations- still sits with your hollowed corpse, resting his head against what once was your shoulder and closes his eyes as the pain still lingered within his chest that this was all his doing.

You have been gone for so long and yet the pain he felt still felt fresh, felt new as though he had just watched you die right before his eyes and in his arms no less. Yet viktor still couldn’t believe that you were gone, no longer with him to smile nor give your heart to him again, you were gone but Viktor was still within the bargaining stage of his grief. He wanted no- he needed you back in his life and he certainly didn’t want you in his life as a hollow corpse, overlooking the ruins of Piltover and Zaun in an eternal state of mourning.

‘I’m sorry my heart, for I still cannot feel you.’ He utters against your cold shoulder, looking at you with amber eyes but sighed when all he could gauge from you was the moss and algae making your golden thrones crown their home, the algae and moss it cascaded down the back of your head and back like a billowing cape or veil he’ll never get to see you wear. ‘But I would like to stay here with you…if that’s okay?’ He asks but got no response and so Viktor sat by your corpse for days on end, wishing to repent for his actions against you, wishing for another opportunity with you in another life or plan of existence.

Viktor could only hope his other variants of himself would never dare to make the same foolish mistake he did, loosing you was the utter most worst thing Viktor ever had to endure, and to be honest he was still paying the price.

[monstersflashlight]

Advent calendar: Day 1. Big foot

A/N: Fist day of advent calendar, yay! I’m actually so, so excited for this, I can’t even put it into words. Hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it!

Big foot x gn!reader || knotting, primal play (technically), accidental temperature play (light), breeding, sex toys, size kink

When you convinced your big foot monster boyfriend to do some role-playing, you didn’t really think beyond getting fucked in the beautiful outdoors. But right right there, in the “beautiful outdoors” (not so much anymore) you were regretting the whole idea. And you were a bit scared he wasn’t going to find you soon enough and you were going to freeze to death. But at least you looked hot in the slutty clothes you choose for this adventure.

What kind of stupid would want to go running in the snowed woods? Only you. And your horny self who couldn’t stop thinking about being his prey. He seemed fine with the whole idea, low-key excited but not really keen on the idea of you going out when it was cold.

Your monster boyfriend might be resistant to freezing temperatures, but your poor human body wasn’t. But you assured him you’d be fine, it won’t take long for him to get you, right? Well, joke was on you because you didn’t know how much time passed, not much, but you were starting to feel pain in your fingers and toes, even though you wore your heavy snow boots (which didn’t go with your slutty outfit at all, but he insisted).

You had run for a little bit, but your physical resistance wasn’t the best, so you got tired fast, and you couldn’t even hear him behind you. You were breathing heavily as you walked through the snow, the slower you walked, the colder you got. And you still couldn’t hear him behind you. Where the fuck was he?

The snow cracked somewhere behind you, but you couldn’t feel the arousal anymore, you only felt cold and needy. You wanted your furry big monster to wrap you in his arms. And maybe fuck you… when you were warm enough. You heard him growl, and you almost got back into your role of prey, but then a big shiver ran down your spine and you whined. You heard him take a big breath, but he still sounded far away.

Or so you thought.

“Got you!” He said as his furry arms surrounded your body. You screamed really loudly, the birds taking flight from the trees around you, your heart beating fast. Your surprise suddenly washed out as you were, finally, warm. You shivered against him. He cursed. “Fuck, you are freezing. I told you this was a bad idea.” The worry in his tone buried any other emotion he could be feeling, like being annoyed at you because you were almost naked in the woods.

“N-not a bad idea,” you tried to argue, but your teeth were chattering and your body kept shivering.

He pressed his furry body against yours more firmly, grabbing your ass and urging you to wrap your whole body against his. You did without complaints, trying to get as close as possible. “Come on, let’s get you back home.”

“O-o-okay,” you stuttered. You buried your hands in the hair of his chest, accidentally flicking one of his nipples with your cold fingers, and he groaned.

“Stop that, you are freezing, I’m not going to fuck you here.” You didn’t miss the way he said here, and you took the opportunity.

“Not here… But at home?” You tried, now that you were getting warmer, you wanted him to destroy you completely once again. Your hole clenching around the toy inside of you. The toy he didn’t know you had inside of you, yet.

“No. You almost froze to death,” he argued. His steps were moving you against his body, the light bouncing rubbing your lower parts to his still erect dick.

“Your dick doesn’t agree with you,” you giggled as you tried to bounce harder. He grunted and his claws pressed against your almost naked ass.

He groped you a bit, his finger almost touching your needy hole. But he didn’t, and you were almost grateful, that would have spoiled the surprise. “Don’t play with me, little morsel, or you’ll get burned,” he warned, making you giggle.

“I want to get burned, I’m so cold,” you confessed. He growled once again, ending different kinds of shivers down your spine as he moved even faster through the snow. So much faster than you would have if you were walking alongside him.

As soon as you were inside, he was wrapping you in so many layers you felt like a human-burrito. He kept fussing over you, getting you close to the fire and covering your body with his. You were in a warm cocoon and it felt great. But slowly, as your body recovered more and more, his weight on top of you started to feel better and better.

You wriggled under him, and he let you sit up. You looked him up and down and licked your lips. “Don’t,” he warned, already knowing where your brain was going.

“Pretty please…” You begged, using your best puppy dog eyes.

“You aren’t using that pouty lips to try to convince me to breed you…” He sighed. He was so done with you, sometimes you didn’t know how he could keep you around. Must be the fact that he was in love with you or something.

“Is it working?” You asked, a spark of hope and amusement rising inside of you.

“Ugh. Yes,” he sounded exasperated as he helped you get rid of your layers.

You bite your lip to avoid giggling, the pout always worked, he was way too soft. He got you naked in less than a minute, his hands cupping and groping each part of you he could reach. The softness of the rug under you felt great as the fire from the chimney warmed your naked body. He explored your body slowly, even when you urged him to go faster.

“What is this?” He asked when he reached down and touched your stretched hole, the tip of his finger moving the toy around and making you wince. He pulled away from your body and pushed your legs to your chest, opening you wide to his inquisitive eyes. “How long have you been wearing this, little morsel?”

“Since I-…” He touched it again, moving it around and making you see stars. “Fuck. Since I went out earlier.” He pulled it out and chuckled when he saw the shape. A Christmas tree. You found it online and couldn’t help yourself, it seemed fitting for your big foot monster.

But when he pushed it back inside and your hole twitched around the base, his laughter died instantly. “You’ve been stretched and ready to take my dick since you were out there?” His growl was low and dangerous and it made your pulse race.

You nodded and he pushed your legs to your ears, bending you in half. Your hole twitched around the toy and you saw the exact moment he lost his cool completely: his pupils dilating completely, swallowing the blue of his eyes and turning completely black. His dick was so hard you could see the veins up his shaft thrumming with each pump of his heart. You groaned as he positioned himself, taking the toy out and filling you to the brim in one fast movement.

“You are such a dirty little morsel. You wanted to be my prey, but you are nothing like that, you are a treasure, you are my little gift. Just like a cock-slave, a fleshlight for my monster dick.” He punctuated each word with a thrust, and you couldn’t hold back your groans.

You kept chanting yes, yes, yes, as he kept fucking you frantically. You grabbed at his hair, anywhere you could, pulling and twisting and making him go completely feral over you. His pace was wild, and you were almost folded in half to take it. It was glorious.

His pace was desperate, as if he was trying to get as deep as he could. You doubted he could go any deeper, you could already feel him in your guts. You looked down and there it was, the print of his dick every time he thrust, moving your tummy. It shouldn’t be as hot as it was. You reached down and touched where his dick was moving, pressing down and making him roar.

“I’m going to breed you so deep and hard you aren’t going to be able to walk… for days.” You groaned, his dick hitting that part inside of you that made you see stars. The combined pressure of his dick and your hand pressing down was more than you could take. “Take my knot,” he grunted as the biggest part of him fit inside your used hole.

You screamed his name, your vision blacking out for a few seconds as pleasure unimaginable by humans ran through your body. You fell apart around him as he roared his release, your body convulsing as he held you still. It went on for ages, your brain short-circuited because you’ve never felt pleasure so high in your life. Your fucking had always been great, but this was otherworldly. And you believed he thought so, too, because his eyes were closed as he kept filling you with rope after rope of cum, warming your insides.

A while later, when you have come two more times and his knot finally retreated, you joked: “Maybe I need to worry you more often.” Your voice was rough after so much screaming.

He grunted against your neck, his body sagging on top of yours. “Don’t even think about it.”

[reignpage]

Piercer!Geto

Yamaha XT500: slowing down

Contents: bts of Yamaha XT500, providing context of their conversation, slight sexual language, angsty, inappropriate workplace behaviour?

You’re nervous. 

The past week has been uncomfortable and awkward. Your boss was preoccupied with another girl, and you know you shouldn’t be jealous; she’s a client. But to watch him be so attentive, so patient, and so accommodating of another girl, it made your chest hurt. 

There you were, sitting behind your desk with a smile, waiting to greet your boss but he’d barely glance at you, gliding past to his office without even a word. When you’d bring him coffee, he wouldn’t even look up, he’d just continue scribbling or typing on his computer. 

Sure, he was busy. 

Everyone was. 

But it wasn’t right for him to give you so much attention the first couple months and then take it all away like it meant nothing. Like you meant nothing. Your sister said it hurts a lot for you because it’s your first love, and whilst you’re not sure that what you’re feeling for Suguru is love indeed, you still appreciate that you’re new to this whole thing. 

Why are men such mysteries?

How ever did Helen of Troy, or rather of Sparta, circumvent this maze?

The romance books you’ve read couldn’t give any insight. They all somehow follow the same pattern of ‘boy meets girl, they like each other, boy hurts girl, boy kisses girl, and girl forgives boy, and they live happily ever after’.

And pardon your French, but that just seems like utter lunacy!

Technically, Suguru hasn’t done anything wrong, he’s just doing his job. But he still hurt you and you can’t give in to his sweet words and pet names, no matter how they make you blush and press your thighs together.

So, after his messages insisting you have lunch together, you wait out at the front of the studio. It’s getting colder and you wish you had brought a thicker jacket, but you only have your sister’s hoodie. You hope she isn’t walking around town today otherwise she’ll rip it right off you. 

It’s only fair you take her jacket when she took your heels to go to a party, sneaking past your room like the little devil that she is. 

“Ready to go, pretty?”

There it is again. 

That smooth tone and heart-fluttering pet name. You’re blushing again when you turn to meet his eyes. He’s so tall, kind eyes smiling at you as he closes the door. He takes a quick sweep of your figure before he sighs and drapes a scarf over your shoulders, tying a knot so that your neck is all warm and cozy. 

Don’t fall for it!

You thank him and then step aside so he can lead the way. Both of you stroll through the neighbourhood, smiling at passersby and weaving around tourists who take up the entire pavement. Having watched a bunch of romance shows too, you’re painfully aware of the fact that he’s following the sidewalk rule, standing as a barrier between you and the road. 

It was a seamless move, done as if on autopilot, as if he’s simply the type to sacrifice himself. He’s a really good boss. Always choosing to stay overtime to finish up on paperwork instead of letting another member of staff handle it, taking the brunt of complaints and nasty customers, and his officer door’s always open for his employees. 

Except, of course, that one time when you had shut it so you could have a little…well, you don’t know what to call it. But whatever it was, it’s been stuck in your mind since then. And you can’t even count the number of times you’ve cum to the thought of it, to the feel of his hands on you. 

Thank goodness your sister’s out so often.

“The weather’s taking a turn for the worse, you should start wearing thicker clothes,” he advises. 

You tuck your chin into his scarf, smelling that familiar scent of musk and late nights, and the faintest hint of gasoline. When he glances down at you, you nod.

“Yeah, I will.”

Earlier in the week you had ran into your friend. She was frazzled over the lawsuit against the university and the ugly professor, hands frantically typing away and hair tied up haphazardly in her unofficial spot in the corner of the library, facing the south windows. 

You hesitated to talk to her in case she was really busy and would feel burned by a conversation, but when she saw you, she let out a genuine, but strained smile. The case had been taking a lot from her. You admire her so much. Always so hardworking, so easy to approach, and so eager to help, no matter what she’s going through. 

She pushed her laptop to the side and gestured for you to sit. And for half an hour straight, you complained about your problems with your boss. Looking back now, you can only cringe at the memory. How thoughtless of you. It’d be wise to avoid any pool of water, lest you fall into your own reflection. 

But she still took the time to hear you out and give advice.

“I don’t really know this Suguru person, but it does sound like he was genuinely busy. I think it’d be good to hear what he has to say and go from there.”

And of course that makes sense. It’s rational, logical, the kind of thinking a law student would have. Perhaps you should have gone to a drama student who would have told you to faint in front of him and pull at his heartstrings. 

Before you know it, you reach a cafe. 

Suguru lets you in first, placing a hand at your back to direct you to a table by the window. It’s a seat with a great view of a park, the leaves have turned various shades of orange and red, drifting downwards in spirals, descending with grace. 

You sit in front of him, unravelling the scarf and placing it on your lap. Oddly enough, as you both look over the menu, it doesn’t feel awkward like you had been expecting. 

It feels normal. 

Like you’ve done this a million times before. 

And it’s only once the server takes your orders, that you both look at each other. He’s still smiling both with his lips and his eyes, and it’s the kindest, most reassuring smile you’ve ever seen. The kind of smile you find yourself searching for in every stranger, only to come up empty-handed. 

But there’s something else there, resting on his features. The crinkles by his eyes are ever so slightly more visible, and the circles under them are just tiniest shade darker. Suguru’s really been worked to the bone recently. 

“Is the campus more chaotic than usual? With the protests and all.”

You shrug. “A little. People are really upset with Eden’s decision to only suspend Professor Mahito despite the mounting evidence against him.”

Suguru nods thoughtfully, accepting the drinks that the server brings over. You’ve opted for a hot chocolate and he’s drinking coffee. He doesn’t tease you over your order of extra whipped cream like your sister does.

“And you believe the accusations?”

“Of course!” You say that with a little more passion than intended, likely feeling offended he even needed to ask. You’re embarrassed but he doesn’t laugh at you, only lifts his cup to hide his amused smile.

He’s always smiling. 

But most times it never feels genuine. 

After a sip of his coffee, he adds, “I believe them too. Much of the pro-Mahito rhetoric centres around his work as a professor, but not much about his character. And if I may, my run-ins with him during my time were never particularly pleasant.”

You nod. “I just hope it all gets settled on. Everyone deserves peace.”

Something about what you said pleased him because then his smile is widening and he places his cup down and leans back in his chair. You know what this means; he’s going to get serious. 

The talk is going to happen now. 

“About my client,” you suck in a breath, “you think she was something more?”

Biting your lip, you consider your words very carefully. “I think you gave her special attention. One that you don’t give to any other client, not even celebrities.”

The food arrives and you glance up at him before taking a bite, wondering why he isn’t answering immediately. Is he considering his words carefully too? If he is, what does that mean for you? Is he doing it because he doesn’t want to hurt you or because he doesn’t want to let you in any more than he must to keep the peace?

Your mind is racing, and you chew without even really tasting your food. 

His finger taps against his fork, and then he drops his smile and sits up straight. 

“You’re right. She wasn’t just another client. She was special.”

A chill pierces your chest. It stuns you, rendering you frozen, forced to bathe in the words like a cold plunge. You want to throw up and run. But you’re pinned to your seat with his steely gaze. It’s insistence, urging you to listen. You can’t look away. Not when, even at the worst moment of the time you’ve had with him, he still looks so mesmerising, a marble statue carved only with the most ardour and the brightest hope for mankind. 

Suguru lets out a breath, perhaps relieved you haven’t left. At least he understands why you would. He owed you that much at least. 

“There are clients,” he begins with an authoritative tone as if his words are factual and you’re captivated by the musical cadence of his warmth, like he’s telling you a bedtime story, “who come, not with money but, with stories.”

You don’t really know where he’s going but you place your cutlery down and reach for your mug of hot chocolate like its searing heat could keep you grounded, keeps you tethered to the ground and protected from his lulling voice, a pied-piper amongst normal men. 

“They’ve been seen the darkness the world has to offer, ventured into places we can’t even fathom. And certainly, places I would never wish for you to have been.”

Something about his cautioning words compel you to nod.

When his fingertip touches yours and sends a tingle through your hand, following the veins, you realise he’s inched his hand closer, to feel yours, even just to feel the atoms breathe near other seems to calm him. Perhaps he needs tethering too.

“Riko was special -is- special. She’s a girl who’s been through a lot.”

You’re breathless, dazed from the feel of his skin. You want to pull away so you can have clarity of mind, but you can’t. “She’s been to those places?”

Suguru nods, a bitter flash crossing his features. 

“She was running from people who wanted to take from her. Who only ever saw her as a vessel and not as a person. And she’s come very far on her own. She wanted something to remind her of who she is. Not a little girl, not a vessel or a mere victim, but a survivor.”

Your lip trembles. 

The girl you had seen was so bright, she grinned with mischief and spoke with so much energy you felt invigorated just by listening, even when you didn’t want to. The extent of what she’s faced is something your mind just cannot venture to. And you’re wracked with guilt, it gnaws at your heart, squeezing in punishment. 

You might throw up for a whole different reason. 

This entire time you had been cursing her out in your head, feeling jealous of all the attention she was getting, but it never even occurred to you that she might have needed the attention, needed to feel normal and cared for, in the way you do. 

You lick your lips, tasting the sweetness of the chocolate there and force your features to lighten. “I understand. Thank you for sharing that with me.”

Suguru doesn’t look convinced, and he opens his mouth to carry on but you only press your finger to his like one would boop a baby on the nose. It’s what your father does to you and your sister when you argue, an effective way of disorienting you enough to shut you up. 

It’s the first time you’ve ever done it but it works wonders because your boss only tilts his head and watches your hand do it again. His expression lightens too. 

There’s a renewed atmosphere to the table, like a veil had been lifted; you hadn’t realised just how heavy it all was until you’re grinning and spooning more food into your mouth. 

“She’s okay now, though?”

And when Suguru nods, you’re pleased with the answer. Truly.

Wherever Riko is, whatever she’s doing, you hope she’s safe. And above all, happy. And if she must return to Uzumaki for solace, for protection, for friendship, you swear there and then, you’d welcome her with open arms. 

“Did you hear about Gojo’s fiancee?” 

Suguru laughs, images of his best friend’s faces flashing in his eyes. “Have I ever? Satoru hasn’t stopped complaining. He spams me day in and day out, sends a bunch of voicemails to both my personal and work phones, and when I wouldn’t answer, he’s been showing up at work.”

You’re giggling. “I know! Nowadays he just walks in and groans at me that you’ve abandoned in his ‘time of need’, whatever that means.”

There’s a softness in his tone, even as he makes fun of his friend, and you feel its embrace when he admits, “Satoru’s always been very dramatic, but he’ll be fine.”

“My sister says his fiancee’s like the complete opposite of him, appearance-wise. Something about being goth?”

“I’ve met her,” he smirks when you gasp. “Don’t look so surprised. You forget I was once a student at Eden. She and I were classmates. And she’s going to him a run for his money.”

The conversation continues with laughter, a feather-like lightness carrying you both along. For two hours, even well after both of your plates are empty, you chat. You update him on what you’ve been up to for the past week, rambling about the most mundane things like they were a crisis and he nods along, never once interrupting, as if content to sit there for however long and listen. 

And when you walk back to the studio, there isn’t a moment of silence. Not even when both of you have stopped talking. 

This is perhaps the only time since you began working at Uzumaki that you’ve spoken, not as boss and employee, and not even as two people with an inexplicable tension of the sexual kind. But rather as friends. 

It felt good. 

To know where you stand with someone. 

Sitting back down behind your desk and watching Suguru flash you another smile before he retreats into his office, you reach a conclusion. 

Friendship is good for you and him. 

You need it before anything else. 

And those are the terms he’ll have to agree with.