#even though i know i have so much to do and so much to see and the world has so much to offer and ive so much potential

[flux1563]

Scandal Payment

Winter x big cock

Words : 6k

Tags : squirting, multiple orgasms, big cock, spanking, creampie, deep throat, cum in face

Winter sat cross-legged on her bed, her eyes glazed over as she stared at the glowing screen of her phone. The room was eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the thunderous applause and screams that usually filled her ears during performances. Her heart raced, a wild stallion galloping through her chest, as she scrolled through the articles that had turned her world upside down. The headlines were a blur of accusations and betrayal. How had it come to this?

Her manager, Mr. Kim, knocked tentatively on the door, his voice a trembling whisper. "Winter, the CEO is here to see you. Are you ready?"

Winter took a deep, shaky breath and nodded, even though she felt anything but prepared. She knew the gravity of the situation, the weight of the scandal threatening to crush her career and her life. She had to face the music.

Mr. Park, the CEO of the agency, walked in with a solemn expression. He was a man who had seen the darkest side of the industry, his eyes reflecting a reservoir of unspoken secrets. He glanced at her, his gaze a mixture of pity and resignation. "Winter," he began, his voice a heavy sigh, "we've got a problem."

Her stomach twisted into a knot. She had been dreading this moment, the moment when her entire world could come crashing down around her. She had always worked so hard, striving for perfection in every move, every note, every smile for the cameras. And now, it could all be taken away because of one mistake.

"It's... it's not what it looks like," she stuttered, her voice barely above a whisper. But she knew the truth was written all over her face.

Mr. Park sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world rested upon them. "I know it's not easy for you," he said, his voice softer now. "But the damage is done. The company's reputation is at stake."

Winter's eyes widened in horror as she realized what he was implying. The scandal wasn't just about her anymore; it had become a battle for the agency's survival. Her heart pounded in her chest like a drum, echoing the fear that had taken root in her soul.

"What... what do you want me to do?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Mr. Park leaned forward, his eyes boring into hers with a fierce intensity. "I have one solution," he said, his voice a low growl. "One way to save both of us. It won't be easy, but it's the only way out."

Winter felt a chill run down her spine. She knew she was about to make a deal with the devil. But she was desperate, clinging to the last thread of hope.

"I'll do anything," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Mr. Park's eyes narrowed, a glint of something akin to victory sparkling in them. "One of our investors," he said slowly, "has made an offer. He's willing to help us cover up this... incident."

Winter felt the blood drain from her face. "What kind of help?" she asked, though she already knew what was coming.

"He wants you to be his... companion," Mr. Park said, his voice thick with the unspoken words. "If you agree to this arrangement, we can keep this scandal under wraps and your career can continue. You'll be under his protection, but you'll still be part of the company. You can still be an idol."

The room spun around her, the walls closing in as if the very air had turned to lead. A sex slave. That's what she was being offered as a lifeline. Winter felt the bile rise in her throat, the thought of giving up her body, her very being, to some faceless monster too much to bear. Yet, the alternative was unthinkable. Ruin, disgrace, and the end of everything she had worked for.

"You're asking me to sell myself," she managed to croak out, her voice a hoarse whisper.

Mr. Park nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "It's the only way," he said firmly. "It's either this or face the consequences. The choice is yours."

Winter felt like she was drowning, her thoughts racing faster than she could comprehend. Her mind was a tumultuous storm of fear, anger, and despair. But amidst the chaos, a flicker of defiance began to burn. She had worked too hard, come too far, to let it all slip away without a fight.

"Fine," she said through gritted teeth, her voice shaking with the weight of her words. "I'll do it."

The CEO's expression didn't change, but she could see the tension in his shoulders ease slightly. "Good," he said, his voice cold. "I'll arrange everything. You'll be informed of the details when it's all set."

Winter nodded numbly, her mind racing. How had it come to this? She had always been the good girl, the one who followed the rules, the one who had it all figured out. And now she was being sentenced to a life of servitude.

Days passed in a blur, each one more surreal than the last. Her world had shrunk to the confines of her room, where she waited for the message that would dictate her fate. It came in the form of a sleek black envelope slipped under her door. Inside, a simple note with an address and the words "Come to this private mansion. Wear only a jacket without anything fabric inside. Mr. Y/N is waiting."

Her heart pounded in her chest as she read the message over and over, trying to convince herself that this was just a nightmare, that she would wake up any moment. But the cold reality remained, seeping into her bones like a relentless frost.

The day arrived, and with it, the heavy weight of her decision. She showered, trying to scrub away the feeling of filth that clung to her skin. She slipped on the jacket, the chilly air of the early spring evening brushing against her bare skin beneath it. The fabric was all that stood between her and the unknown.

With trembling hands, she took a cab to the address provided. The mansion was a fortress of opulence, nestled in the heart of a quiet neighborhood. Its grandeur was a stark reminder of the power she was about to face.

Winter stepped out of the taxi, her legs threatening to buckle under the gravity of her situation. The massive gates swung open, revealing a long, winding driveway lined with meticulously trimmed hedges. The house loomed before her, its windows dark and mysterious, like the eyes of a predator watching its prey.

The door to the mansion opened, and a man in a tailored suit emerged, his face a stoic mask. He gestured for her to follow, and she took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. The door closed behind her with a finality that echoed through her soul.

The interior was like something out of a magazine, with gleaming marble floors and grand chandeliers casting dramatic shadows on the walls. The air was thick with the scent of expensive cologne and a hint of something else, something darker and more sinister.

Mr. Y/N was waiting for her in a dimly lit drawing room, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. He was older, with silver hair and a sharp jawline, his eyes as cold as the metal around his fingers.

"Welcome," he said, his voice like velvet over gravel. "I trust you've come to your senses."

Winter's stomach churned, but she forced a smile, her heart hammering in her chest. "Thank you for... helping me," she managed, her voice a shaky whisper.

He took a sip of his drink, his gaze never leaving hers. "Consider it an investment," he said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "An investment in your future."

The words sent a shiver down her spine. She knew what he meant. This wasn't just a one-time deal; she was being bought and paid for, a commodity to be used at his whim.

"Now," Mr. Y/N said, setting his glass down on a side table with a clink. "Let's get started, shall we?"

Winter's mind rebelled, but her body obeyed. She knew she had made her choice, and there was no going back now. As she followed him up the grand staircase, she couldn't help but feel like she was climbing the steps to her own personal hell.

When they reached the top, Mr. Y/N turned to face her, his eyes darkening as they swept over her bare skin. "Open the jacket," he instructed, his voice a low growl.

Her hands trembled as she slowly unbuttoned the jacket, revealing herself to him. She felt exposed, vulnerable, a piece of meat on display for his perusal. The cold air in the mansion nipped at her skin, making her shiver.

Mr. Y/N took a step closer, his eyes lingering on her body like a connoisseur examining a fine piece of art. "Very good," he murmured, his voice a caress that made her skin crawl. "Now, let's go to your new quarters."

He led her down a long hallway lined with closed doors, each one a potential nightmare waiting to be unlocked. Finally, he stopped at one and opened it, revealing a plush, velvet-covered room that looked more like a prison cell than a bedroom.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of flowers, almost cloying in its sweetness. The walls were lined with mirrors, reflecting her image back at her from every angle, a constant reminder of the deal she had made.

Mr. Y/N's eyes raked over her, a hunger in his gaze that made her stomach churn. He took another step closer, his breath warm against her cheek as he reached out to trace the line of her neck with one finger. "You're more beautiful than I imagined," he murmured, his voice thick with lust.

Winter felt his hands slide down her body, the fabric of her jacket whispering against her skin as he pushed it off her shoulders. It fell to the floor, leaving her naked and trembling before him. His gaze dipped to her breasts, his pupils dilating as he took in the sight of her hardened nipples.

Without a word, he leaned in, his mouth closing over one sensitive peak. He sucked hard, his teeth grazing the tender flesh, and she couldn't help the gasp that tore from her lips. The sensation was almost unbearable, a mix of pleasure and pain that had her body responding despite her mind's protest.

He moved to the other side, giving her no reprieve, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub before he bit down, eliciting a whimper. Her body was a traitor, arching towards him, craving more of the exquisite agony he was inflicting.

The room spun around her, the world narrowing to the feel of his mouth on her body. She felt his hands on her hips, guiding her back towards the bed, and she knew what was to come next. But she couldn't stop it, couldn't even bring herself to protest as he pushed her down onto the soft, velvet surface.

Mr. Y/N's eyes gleamed with victory as he climbed over her, his body pressing her into the mattress. He trailed kisses down her torso, each one leaving a fiery path in its wake. When he reached her navel, he paused, his tongue flicking out to taste her.

Winter's breath hitched as his mouth moved lower, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs. His hands gripped her hips, holding her in place as his mouth found her most intimate spot. She wanted to scream, to push him away, but she was paralyzed with fear and a perverse excitement that she despised herself for feeling.

He took his time, savoring her like a fine wine, his tongue dancing around her clit with a skill that belied his age. She felt herself responding, her body betraying her once more as she grew wetter, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

And then, just when she thought she couldn't take it anymore, he stopped, his eyes meeting hers in the mirror above the bed. "You're mine now," he said, his voice a dark promise. "And I intend to enjoy every inch of you."

Winter's body was a live wire, her nerves singing with the anticipation of what was to come. She felt his hand slide down her stomach, his fingers delving into her wetness, and she couldn't help but arch her back in response. He chuckled, a sound that sent a shiver down her spine, and then his mouth was back on her, his tongue lapping at her clit with an intensity that stole her breath away.

Her body tensed, her muscles coiling tight as a spring. And then, with a suddenness that took her by surprise, she felt it. The warm rush of liquid that spurted from her, soaking his face as she lost control. Mr. Y/N's eyes widened slightly, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he licked at her, savoring the taste of her submission.

The sensation was overwhelming, the most intense thing she had ever felt. It was as if her entire being was concentrated in that one point of pleasure, exploding outwards in a shower of sensation. Her legs trembled, her body shaking with the force of her release.

Mr. Y/N pulled away, his face glistening with her arousal. He licked her lips, his eyes never leaving hers in the mirror. "Magnificent," he murmured, his voice a low rumble of approval.

Winter felt a twist of shame, but it was quickly overshadowed by the realization of what she had just done. She had squirted for this man, this stranger who now owned her. It was a humiliating reminder of her new reality, one that sent a jolt of arousal through her body despite herself.

He climbed off the bed, his erection straining against his pants as he moved to a closet and pulled out a set of restraints. "Time to get comfortable," he said, his smile cold and predatory.

Her heart racing, she watched as he approached the bed, the restraints jangling in his hand. She knew she had no choice but to submit, to become the plaything he desired. She allowed him to bind her wrists to the bedposts, the leather biting into her skin as he secured them tightly.

Mr. Y/N's eyes gleamed as he surveyed his handiwork. "Now," he said, his voice a low growl, "we can truly begin."

He unbuttoned his shirt with deliberate slowness, revealing a chest that was as hard and unyielding as the rest of him. His pants followed, pooling at his ankles to reveal the monstrous erection that strained against his boxers. Winter couldn't tear her eyes away, a mix of fear and fascination warring within her.

With a smirk, he pushed his underwear down, freeing his cock. It was massive, a thick, veiny beast that stood proud and erect before her. At least twelve inches of pure, unadulterated power, a symbol of his dominance over her. She had never seen anything so big, so intimidating. Her eyes widened as he stroked it, watching as it grew even larger.

Mr. Y/N stepped closer to the bed, his cock mere inches from her face. "This," he said, his voice a velvet caress, "is what you're going to serve from now on. You're going to take it any way I want it, whenever I want it."

Winter's breathing grew shallow as she stared at the imposing member before her. She had never felt so small, so powerless. Yet, a strange thrill coursed through her, a dark excitement that she didn't want to admit to herself.

He climbed onto the bed, positioning himself between her legs. Her heart hammered in her chest like a wild beast trying to break free. The weight of his body was like a mountain pressing her into the mattress.

"Open your mouth," he ordered, his hand guiding her chin up.

Winter stared at the massive cock in front of her, the tip glistening with precum. "It's so big," she said, her voice trembling. "I don't think it can fit."

Mr. Y/N chuckled darkly. "You'll manage," he assured her, his voice filled with the promise of painful pleasure.

With a deep breath, she parted her lips, feeling the head of his cock brush against them. It was hot and heavy, the pressure making her mouth water with a mix of fear and anticipation. He pushed forward, and she felt the tip enter her mouth, stretching her lips wide. His hands were in her hair now, guiding her, urging her to take more.

"Relax," he murmured, his voice a dark whisper in the quiet room. "Take it slow."

Winter did as she was told, her eyes never leaving the mirror. She watched as his cock slid deeper, inch by inch, her mouth stretching to accommodate his girth. Her teeth grazed the sensitive skin, and she tasted the saltiness of his desire.

The feel of his cock filling her mouth was almost too much, the sensation overwhelming her senses. She could feel the veins pulsing beneath her tongue, the power in his grip as he held her head in place. He began to thrust gently, pushing her boundaries with every stroke.

Panic began to bubble in her chest as she struggled to breathe, her throat tightening around him. "I... I can't," she gasped, her eyes pleading in the reflection.

But Mr. Y/N was relentless, his eyes dark with hunger. "You'll learn," he said, his voice a low growl. "You'll learn to take it all."

He pushed deeper, the head of his cock touching the back of her throat. She gagged, her eyes watering, but he didn't stop. Instead, he began to fuck her mouth, his hips rocking in a slow, steady rhythm.

Winter's eyes widened as she felt her throat opening for him, the muscles relaxing despite her fear. She took a deep, shaky breath through her nose, focusing on the feeling of his cock sliding in and out, the way it filled her up.

To her surprise, she found herself growing wetter, the sensation of being used, of being his to do with as he pleased, turning her on in a way she had never experienced before.

Her mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions – fear, anger, humiliation, and a dark, pulsing need. She hated herself for it, but she couldn't deny the way her body was responding to his dominance.

And as he continued to use her mouth, pushing her further than she ever thought possible, she realized that she had made a deal with the devil. And she was about to pay the price in full.

Winter's saliva began to dribble from the corners of her mouth, trickling down her chin and onto her chest. She felt the warmth spread across her skin, a stark contrast to the coldness of the room. It was a humiliating reminder of her new role, a symbol of her degradation that seemed to only fuel Mr. Y/N's desire. He watched the droplets with a hunger that made her stomach turn and her pussy throb in equal measure.

"You're doing very well," he murmured, his voice thick with lust as he praised her efforts. "Your mouth is so tight, so eager to please me."

As his praise continued, she felt something shift within her, a strange pride swelling in her chest. Despite the fear and disgust, she found herself eager to make him happy, to satisfy his hunger. His grip on her hair tightened, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he approached climax.

Suddenly, just as she felt the pressure of his cock about to burst within her, he pulled out, his hand coming to rest on her cheek. The head of his cock hovered before her, the veins bulging and pulsing with the force of his impending release.

With a guttural groan, Mr. Y/N pulled back and sprayed her face with his hot, sticky cum. It hit her like a warm, wet slap, coating her cheeks, her nose, and her mouth. Winter's eyes widened with shock, but she couldn't help the way her tongue darted out to catch a rogue drop that had landed on her bottom lip.

He watched her, his eyes never leaving hers in the mirror, as he painted her face with his seed. She felt a mix of revulsion and arousal, a confusing cocktail that left her trembling and breathless. When he was done, he leaned in, his cock still semi-hard and glistening with the remnants of his release.

"Look at yourself," he said, his voice a harsh whisper. "Look at what you've become."

Winter stared at her reflection, her eyes red-rimmed and her face a mess of cum. She had never felt so exposed, so utterly owned. And yet, there was something undeniably erotic about it, something that had her body begging for more.

"Now, get on all fours," Mr. Y/N ordered, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down her spine.

With trembling legs, she complied, her knees hitting the plush carpet with a soft thud. The coldness of the room was a stark contrast to the heat between her legs, her pussy aching for his touch. As she positioned herself, she couldn't help but feel like a creature at his mercy, a pet awaiting its master's command.

He climbed off the bed, his eyes never leaving her. She watched in the mirror as he walked over to a nearby dresser, his erection still at half-mast. He opened a drawer, the sound of leather and metal clinking together reaching her ears. Her heart raced, her breathing shallow and fast as she waited for what was to come.

When he turned back to her, he was holding a riding crop. The sight of it sent a fresh wave of fear and excitement through her. "You're going to learn to be a good girl," he said, his voice a dark promise. "And this will help."

He approached the bed, the crop swishing through the air as he walked. "Spread your legs," he instructed, his eyes cold and calculating.

Winter did as she was told, her thighs parting to expose her wet pussy. She felt vulnerable, like prey caught in the sights of a predator. He stepped closer, the scent of leather and his cologne wrapping around her like a noose.

He trailed the tip of the crop along her spine, the sensation sending goosebumps racing across her skin. She couldn't help but arch her back, presenting herself to him like the whore she had become.

Without warning, the crop came down hard on her ass, the sting making her yelp. The pain was a shock, a bolt of lightning that sent her senses reeling. But it was quickly followed by a pulse of pleasure that had her pussy clenching around nothing.

Mr. Y/N chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he watched her squirm. "Again," he said, the crop rising and falling with a sickening thwack.

Winter bit her lip, the pain turning to fire as he struck her again and again. But with every blow, the heat grew, the flames of desire licking at her core until she was a writhing mess of need and desperation.

"Fuck," she panted, her voice high and tight. "It's too big. It won't fit."

Mr. Y/N chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. "Don't worry," he said, his voice a dark whisper. "We'll make it fit."

He set the crop aside, his eyes never leaving hers in the mirror. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he reached down and stroked her swollen clit. The pleasure was instant, a spark that ignited the bonfire of her lust. He circled the sensitive nub with his thumb, watching her reactions with a clinical interest.

Her eyes rolled back in her head, her body trembling as she moaned, her pussy clenching and unclenching in anticipation. He took his time, building the fire until she was begging for release, her hips bucking back towards his hand.

And then, without warning, he stopped, his cock nudging at her entrance. It was a blunt, thick presence that made her gasp.

"Ready?" he asked, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down her spine.

Winter nodded, her body trembling with anticipation. She knew this was the moment she had been dreading, the moment she would be truly claimed.

Mr. Y/N gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh as he pushed forward. She felt the tip of his cock breach her, the pressure almost unbearable.

"Relax," he murmured, his voice a dark caress. "Take a deep breath and push back."

With a whimper, she did as she was told, feeling the head of his cock pop inside her. The pain was like a knife, stealing her breath and making her eyes water. But she didn't stop, didn't pull away, driven by a need she didn't fully understand.

He pushed further, inch by torturous inch, until she was stretched to the limit. Her muscles protested, her pussy screaming for relief. But the pain was mixed with a pleasure so intense it was almost indistinguishable.

"Please," she gasped, her voice a desperate plea. "I can't..."

But he was relentless, his eyes never leaving hers in the mirror. "You can," he said, his voice a harsh command. "You will."

And with one final, brutal thrust, he seated himself fully inside her, his balls slapping against her ass. She felt like she was being split in two, the agony and ecstasy blending into one overwhelming wave that crashed over her.

Mr. Y/N didn't give her time to adjust, his hips moving in a punishing rhythm that sent shockwaves through her body. The pain grew with every thrust, but so did the pleasure, a twisted dance that had her moaning his name.

"You're so tight," he groaned, his grip on her hips tightening. "So perfect."

Winter's eyes widened in the mirror, the pain of his entry like a brand seared into her very soul. She had never felt so full, so stretched, so... violated. But even as the agony tore through her, she felt her pussy clench around him, her body's natural response to the intrusion.

"Fuck, Mr. Y/N," she whimpered, her voice a desperate plea.

He leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back as he whispered in her ear. "Call me 'Master'. It's what you're here for."

The word was like a slap across the face, the reality of her situation hitting her with the force of a freight train. She was no longer Winter, the beloved idol. She was a sex toy, a plaything for this monster.

"M-Master," she corrected, her voice shaking.

His thrusts grew more forceful, his cock pounding into her like a hammer against an anvil. Each stroke sent a fresh wave of pain through her, making her scream.

"FUCKKK, MY PUSSY WAS TORN," she screamed, the pain so intense it stole her breath away.

Mr. Y/N's only response was a growl of satisfaction, his pace never faltering. She felt her insides tear, her body protesting the brutal invasion, but she knew it was too late to turn back now. She had made her deal with the devil, and she would see it through.

The room was a blur of pain and pleasure, the two intertwining until she couldn't tell one from the other. Her mind was a whirlwind of fear, anger, and a dark, twisted desire that had her panting for more.

With every thrust, she felt herself slipping further and further away from the girl she once was, her identity fading like a distant memory. But even as the pain grew, so did the thrill, the excitement of being used so completely.

Her orgasm built, a crescendo of sensation that threatened to shatter her into a million pieces. "Master, please," she begged, her voice a ragged whisper. "I'm going to come."

Mr. Y/N chuckled, his grip on her hips tightening. "Cum for me," he ordered, his voice a dark rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. "Squirt for me."

Winter's eyes widened as he pulled his cock out of her, the sudden emptiness making her gasp. But she knew what he wanted, what he was waiting for. With a cry of pure abandon, she pushed back against his hand, her pussy clenching around his fingers as she came.

The release was explosive, a geyser of liquid that spurted from her, soaking the bed beneath her. Her body convulsed, her muscles tightening and releasing in waves of pure pleasure. It was like nothing she had ever felt before, a powerful, primal force that seemed to consume her.

Mr. Y/N watched with a hungry gaze, his eyes never leaving hers in the mirror. "Beautiful," he murmured, his voice filled with awe. "You're a natural."

Winter's cheeks flushed with a mix of pride and embarrassment. She had never felt so exposed, so utterly vulnerable. But she couldn't deny the thrill of his praise, the way it made her pulse race.

He slammed back into her, the sudden intrusion making her gasp. The angle was different now, the head of his cock hitting a spot deep inside her that had her toes curling with every thrust. It was like he had found a secret button, one that sent her hurtling towards the edge of oblivion.

With his free hand, Mr. Y/N reached around and slapped her ass, the sound echoing through the silent room. "Tell me," he growled, his breath hot against her ear. "Tell me what you want. Tell me how it feels."

Winter's eyes rolled back in her head, her mind a haze of pain and pleasure. "I want... I want it all," she moaned, the words spilling from her lips like a confession. "I want you to use me, to fill me up."

He slapped her again, the sting making her pussy clench around him. "And how does it feel?" he demanded.

"It feels..." she gasped, her voice trailing off as she searched for the right words. "It feels like... I'm on fire. Like I'm being torn apart and put back together."

Mr. Y/N's hand came down again, the pain turning her words into a scream. "Again," he said, his voice a harsh whisper. "Tell me again."

"It feels amazing," she managed, her voice hoarse. "It feels like... like nothing I've ever felt before."

The slap of his hand on her ass grew more rhythmic, matching the tempo of his hips. "And do you want more?" he asked, his voice a low, dark rumble.

Winter could feel the orgasm building, a pressure that threatened to consume her. "Yes," she panted. "More, Master. Please."

With a smirk, he reached between her legs, his thumb finding her clit. He began to rub in tight circles, the added sensation pushing her closer to the brink. "Beg for it," he said, his voice a command.

"Please," she whispered, the word a desperate plea. "Please, I need it."

He increased his pace, the friction of his thumb driving her wild. "Say it," he demanded. "Tell me what you need."

"I need your cock," she gasped, her voice a needy whine. "I need you to fuck me, to make me squirt again."

The words were like a trigger, and she felt it building, the pressure growing until she couldn't hold it back any longer. With a scream, she came again, her pussy pulsing around him as he continued to pound into her.

Mr. Y/N's breath grew ragged, his own release close. He pulled out, the wet sound making her whimper. "Look at me," he ordered, his voice strained.

Winter managed to lift her head, her eyes meeting his in the mirror. "Master," she whispered, her voice shaking.

He stroked himself, his hand a blur as he worked his cock. "Tell me," he said, his voice tight with need. "Tell me how much you want it."

"I want it," she moaned, her pussy still clenching in the aftermath of her climax. "I want it all."

Mr. Y/N chuckled darkly, the sound a stark contrast to the desperation in her voice. He positioned the tip of his cock at her entrance once more, watching her with a hunger that seemed to consume him. "You're going to take it," he said, his eyes never leaving hers in the mirror. "You're going to take it all."

With one powerful thrust, he was back inside her, filling her completely. Winter's eyes rolled back in her head, the pleasure so intense it was almost painful. She could feel herself stretching around him, her body trying to accommodate his massive size.

"Fuck," she whimpered, her voice a desperate plea. "It's too much."

Mr. Y/N leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back as he began to fuck her with a ferocity that stole her breath. "Is it?" he asked, his voice a low growl. "Is it really too much?"

Winter's eyes met his in the mirror, the need in his gaze reflecting the tumult of emotions churning within her. "No," she gasped, the word torn from her lips. "It's... it's not enough."

The room was filled with the slap of skin against skin, the sound of their ragged breathing. Her moans grew louder, the pleasure building like a storm within her. She had never felt so alive, so consumed by another person.

With every stroke, she felt herself slipping further and further into darkness, into a world where pleasure and pain were one and the same. She had never been so lost, so utterly at the mercy of another.

Mr. Y/N's hand came down on her ass again, the pain making her jolt. "You're mine," he said, his voice a dark promise. "You're mine to use, to break, to build back up again."

Winter's body responded to his words, her pussy clenching around him like a vise. "Yes," she whispered, her voice a ragged confession. "I'm yours."

He slammed into her, the force of his thrusts making the bed shake beneath them. "Good girl," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. "Such a good, obedient little slut."

Winter's eyes squeezed shut, the sting of his words only adding to the whirlwind of sensation. She didn't want to be a slut, didn't want to be used like this, but she couldn't deny the way her body responded to his commands. Her pussy clenched around him, her orgasm building with every brutal penetration.

"Yeah," she panted, her voice a desperate plea. "Keep fucking me, Master. Make me forget."

The pressure grew, a tight coil of need that threatened to shatter her into a million pieces. She could feel herself slipping away, her mind a blank canvas of sensation. The pain in her ass, the fullness in her pussy, the burning in her throat from screaming his name – it was all she knew, all she was.

And then it hit her, the orgasm ripping through her like a tornado. She felt her pussy spasm around his cock, her muscles contracting in a symphony of pleasure. "Master," she screamed, her voice hoarse. "I'm cumming!"

Mr. Y/N chuckled darkly, his thrusts never slowing. "I know," he said, his voice a low growl. "And I'm going to keep fucking you until you can't think anymore."

Her vision swam, the world around her fading into a haze of ecstasy. The only thing that remained was the feeling of his cock pounding into her, the sound of his slaps echoing in her ears. She was lost, adrift in a sea of pleasure that seemed to have no end.

"Cum for me," he ordered, his voice a harsh command that sent shivers down her spine. "Cum until you can't move."

Winter felt her body respond, her pussy spasming around him as she climaxed again. The pleasure was so intense it was almost painful, a never-ending wave that crashed over her again and again. She didn't know how much more she could take, didn't know if she would survive this.

But even as she thought it, she felt the need building once more, the hunger growing insatiable. She was a creature of pure instinct, a living embodiment of lust.

With a final, brutal thrust, Mr. Y/N released his hold on her, his cum flooding her insides. She felt herself contract around him, her orgasm milking him for every last drop. It was a powerful, primal feeling that left her trembling and exhausted.

As he pulled out of her, she collapsed onto the bed, her body limp and spent. The only sound in the room was their harsh breathing, a testament to the intensity of what had just transpired.

[dduane]

Hello Ms. Duane I hope you're doing okay today.

This is a very personal ask and if it's too much and you need to ignore it I totally understand!

I was just wondering how you are managing to stay so strong and positive after what happened.

My partner and I are in our 40s and neither of us are the healthiest people and I am so very afraid of losing him one day. Sometimes, in private, I cry just thinking about it. I can't see a future in which I could go on if he died first.

But you manage to continue even after your terrible loss. You travel and write and continue to experience joys in life. Do you have any thoughts or advice on how to be ready for this future? How to survive the grief?

I hope I am not overstepping my boundaries. I have no one I could talk to about his, and your current strength amazes me.

First of all: thanks for the kind words. They're very, very appreciated.

Secondly: Everything that follows is intensely situational, and everybody else's mileage will inevitably vary. (So what else is new?)

(Adding a cut here, as I'm still ambivalent about how to handle these issues "on main". Warning: contains discussion of pre- and post-bereavement issues, the loss of longtime spouses, mental-health travel, and turning into trees.)

...Anyway. How am I managing?

Frankly, damned if I know.

In my case, I'm really not sure it's attributable to strength, as such. (Though, yeah, one learns some of that over time, if one's not afraid to expose oneself to life. Which, admittedly, is a way bigger ask these days, it seems to me, than it used to be.)

Some of it is mere habit, intertwined with unavoidable responsibility. There are things that my daily life requires me to do that can't be evaded, or not for long: and habit keeps me pushing through those. (And some of them are so fecking mundane. Keeping the online store running, doing the damn dishes, dealing with web issues [right now I'm having a deeply frustrating discussion with Peter's website about under-the-hood memory issues: a discussion that I wish I could just end with a polearm of some kind]...) This is the "This Gets Me So Damn Pissy" side of being a grownup. ...With the inevitable side question: when the hell did I grow up? Is this it? Because this bit of it is really annoying me right now.

Some of it is sheer bloody-minded stubbornness (with a side of You can't give up on dealing with this. He wouldn't like that. And also, You have to keep on surviving this to the point where you get past the worst of the pain: because you know that point will come if it's just given enough time... and he would not want the last thing he did to have caused you so much pain that you gave up).

...Is any of this making sense? God only knows. Please excuse all unnecessary parentheses.

And also: Some of this is the simple realization that it would not be either desirable or healthy to give up, or set aside, even temporarily, the whole spectrum of individuated, nothing-to-do-with-him things that have made me, and continue to make me, me... some of which were plainly (to my then and continuing delight) what got that guy to marry me in the first place.

Peter had only disapproval for the concept of suttee. But not merely because of that, I refuse to burn myself away on his pyre (or to allow my own carelessness about my physical and/or mental states to let that happen). It would serve no useful purpose, would inevitably cause pain to a lot of other people... and in any case, he would just really not approve.

Admittedly, I'm feeling kinda scorched around the edges right now. But give it time enough, and scorching can heal.

(sighing) Let me back away briefly from that whole set of issues, to look a little at the background. Whenever this subject has come up for discussion between us over the years, P. and I have been of more or less instantaneous agreement that we'd both deeply prefer, when the day and hour rolled around, to be turned simultaneously into trees. 😏 Neither of us was ever wild about the other one surviving alone and having to deal with the partner's loss. Yet—barring the chance of dying together in some natural disaster, or in a train or plane crash or something (which is frankly kind of hard on all the other people on the plane or train)—we knew damn well that eventually, whatever our preferences, that was what was most likely going to happen.

So we talked about it. We made some (as it now turns out, fairly rudimentary) plans. Some of them are turning out to be useful. Some of them are less so (in that some of them depended on assumptions about which of us would be likelier to go first). But the important thing was that we jointly acknowledged that one-of-us-goes-first was the likeliest outcome.

And nothing is served by trying to pretend that it's not likely to happen, or by failing to acknowledge and discuss it with your partner. This is hard to say, and will doubtless be hard to hear. But I promise you that all of this would have been endlessly worse for me (or for him, if I'd gone first) if we hadn't even been willing to get as far as the acknowledgement: which is vital.

One who commits to a real-world, long-term partnership must sooner or later be willing to commit to the difficult truth that it will someday end. Denial doesn't help at all. The physical universe has all kinds of seriously annoying ways to deal with that. (And if this sounds kinda stern, please understand that it's mostly myself I'm being stern with here.) ...But if you're already experiencing distress over the eventual possibility of something at this level of inevitability happening (she said, briefly putting her psych-nurse hat on*), I think you might be wise to consider how to broach the subject with your partner sooner rather than later. If you need professional assistance with this, do what you can to seek it out.

But make some kind of plan for the time when two become one (in the probably least-delightful sense of the phrase). It doesn't have to happen all at once. You don't have to spend hours over the business, or days. Peter and I handled this issue (most recently, and not with an eye to any illness...) over a matter of months, in brief conversations that sometimes lasted only minutes at a time, or even seconds. (Hilariously, it was P. finally getting his senior citizen's unlimited-public-transport pass that triggered us most recently getting into this issue in any depth.) But having done so—even in rudimentary form—each of us could rest a little easier that the other knew where to quickly reach for the already-emplaced "lifesaver," and wouldn't have to be thrashing around in the deep water all alone with no immediate help in sight.

(sighing) ...So. As to feeling joy about things? I suspect I'm a good ways off that yet. Flashes of amusement and happiness (and also of extremely black humor, possibly rather blacker than usual) have been coming and going as usual. But then the "happiness" thing is kind of unavoidable for me, because in this regard I am a very cheap date, and always have been. I mean, anybody who looks at my shitposting here should be able to detect that. :)

Meanwhile, as for travel: There's definitely a therapeutic side to this. Right up until his last day, P. and I had stacks and stacks of plans for places we wanted to go in the short- to long-term: some of them ones we'd been to before, some not. I find (not entirely to my surprise, but with satisfaction that it works) that there's currently some relief available for me in carrying out these plans, even though P's not with me except in "Shoulder Angel" mode. What I mean by this is: me traveling and seeing new and interesting things, and predicting—I like to think with some accuracy, after forty years of observing and interacting with the man—what Peter would generally make of them. So that practice will continue, when I can afford it and can spare the time away from home. (Those who want to contribute to these efforts are cordially invited to go over to the Ko-Fi and drop in whatever they please with the tag "Operation Shoulder Angel," so I know what it's about. And thanks in advance to any who feel inclined to do this.)

Additionally, in terms of the general suggestion some have made, that I should "Get out of the house and go be with your Tribe when you can", at the end of the month it seems I'll be at Archipelacon 2, on an island I didn't even know existed until some weeks back, and had to Google for. That should be interesting! Detailed reports will follow.

As for continuing to write: that won't stop until it's my turn to stop breathing, if I have anything to say about it. Casual writing, like this, is enough of a daily commonplace that it's in no danger, I think, of being interrupted. Meanwhile, I look forward to being able to settle back into actual prose work as soon as possible, as things are kinda backed up at that end. If I have to travel to do that because it's difficult to do at home... well, I've done that before, and often. If I must, I'll do it again. Some of my best writing has happened in holiday flats and hotel rooms.

Anyway: thanks much for the question, which took courage to ask! I honor that. And as for you: hang in there and do what you can for your own situation... though (obviously) at your own speed. I can tell you for sure that action on this issue will help, at least a little, over time, to kill some of the fear... and will help you prepare for the unexpected.

HTH. ❤️

*Even though we didn't wear caps. When I was still practicing, we worked in street clothes. Just as well, as I always looked like a dork in a cap.

[chrissv4mp]

MISS ME? ᝰ.ᐟ

warnings. smut, angst, fluff, fingering, g!p (girl penis), p in v, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, car sex, switch!billie × switch!reader, added characters, porn with some sort of plot, language.

synopsis. billie eilish. everybody knows her: the girl who always left both men and women in the dust during her races. you've been the starter to each one of them, and recently, you've noticed she hasn't been showing up. it's been two years, and when a big new name comes into town, billie's quick to pull up to reclaim her special title. and her girl.

au. g!p street racer!billie × starter!reader

words. 6.7k

letters. let's excuse my horrific description of street racing—and just cars in general.... also, i'm re-reading this and just now realizing i only made one reference to 'just keep watching...' the song i was originally taking inspiration from—alongside '2 hands' and 'sports car'..... anyway, enjoyyy!!! i had so much fun writing this 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

there's a stretch of road just outside of the city no one uses anymore—too bumpy for traffic, too dark for cameras, and too far out for any law official to care. potholes like craters. traffic lights flickering yellow every now and then. most maps don't even list the name of the street anymore.

but the second the clock ticks past 11pm, the place lights up like vegas. and everyone who matters knows where to go.

you're always there before the first wave of engines start to pull in, headphones slung around your neck, pistol on your waist, boots up on the concrete barrier like you own the damn place—because you basically do. since you were just sixteen. an older girlfriend of yours had brought you to one of the races, offered to let you shoot the starting pistol, and you fell in love with it instantly. the adrenaline. the rush. and now, five years later you're not even the slightest bit bored.

your clipboard's tucked under your arm, pen behind your ear, eyes focused on the roster of names and heats for the night.

behind you, the old lot's filling fast—old imports, mustangs, beat-up chevys with rebuilt engines and matte paint jobs that already have scratches. headlights making the dust particles visible, exhaust rolling low and thick through the air. cars park in crooked rows beside yours, grills gleaming under the floodlight hung on the power pole. some racers lean against their hoods with their arms crossed, scoping out the competition. others are all talk, loud and gassed up, trying to seem special before they even touch the start line.

you don't flinch when engines rev. don't move a muscle when someone pulls up too close. you've been the starter long enough to know who's real and who's noise.

and you? you're something in between. not a racer. not a spectator. but the one who calls the shots, drops the flag—the signal that turns waiting into war.

people watch you more than they should. and, yeah, you notice, you just don't care.

the boys flirt. some ask if you've got a favorite just to see if you'll flatter them. you never do.

you do have a favorite, though.

but you never say her name. not anymore. not after she kissed you without informing you it was her last race and just up and left without another word—without a proper goodbye, without a proper way of letting you know how she felt towards you.

though, you do still say things like: "no one ever drove that curve like she did," or "that start? it was okay. my girl used to redline smoother."

or the one that always riles them up—"mariah's fast, sure. but she wouldn't beat my girl. not if they went head to head."

and that's when they start arguing.

"you're crazy."

"who the fuck even is 'your girl'?"

"mariah would kill her."

you let them talk, let it go in one ear and out the other. you don't bother answering them when they ask who she is. don't mention that you still check the list every week in hopes of her being on it. you don't tell them she's the only racer on the track who ever had your heart stuttering when she looked at you from behind her tinted windshield and smiled like she already knew how the night was gonna end.

it's nearing midnight when a particularly loud engine rolls into the lot, and you look up quickly—a cherry red charger, engine purring low and smug. some whistle. some cheer. others hold up their phones like they're filming something that can only be seen once in a lifetime. mariah moore.

she kills the engine and steps out slow, calm. mariah's a whole show: gold hoops, leather jacket, acrylic nails brushing her tan cheek as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. she doesn't look at you, not at first. but you can feel the way the air shifts.

someone murmurs, "she's takin' it all."

you shake your head mindlessly. your mind drifts. like always.

because even with mariah here—the biggest name in street racing, fastest in the city—she doesn't make the street rumble like billie did, she doesn't even compare to the way billie had your palms sweating and your breath hitching.

you don't say it out loud. but she's already here.

lingering in the sound of a loud bass in someone's car. ghosting through the exhaust haze. trapped in the back of your throat each time someone asks, "who's your favorite?"

they all think mariah would crush her just because you keep her nameless. but you know better.

you know what it felt like when billie pulled up the line, slow and sure, making everybody forget who they really came to watch. you'd recognize the sound of her engine from a mile away, the melody of the song that was always playing when she rolled in.

you're leaning back in one of the old metal chairs under the check-in tent, clipboard in hand now, pen in the other, trying to make sense of the barely legible names scribbled in sharpie and faded pencil. the lot feels more alive than any other night before—laughter echoing off the crumbling brick of the nearby warehouse, engines revving in an effort to intimidate others, bass rocking a few cars subtly.

someone slides up next to you. aiden, one of the other starters. tall, kinda weird, always smells faintly of gasoline and peppermint gum.

"you got heat one lined up yet?" he asks, leaning in to scan the paper over your shoulder.

"workin' on it," you mutter, squinting at the mess of names, pen caught between your teeth. "who the hell wrote 'slim jim with the jaguar'? i swear, these guys are getting out of control."

aiden laughs, full and loud. "hey, that's jaxson. he's been coming out since last spring. you'll probably remember him once his muffler explodes again."

you shake your head with a soft laugh, but your attention stays sharp. you've done this a million times—balancing chaos, keeping things moving, occasionally breaking up a fight or two. you're not just the starter, you run this area of the streets.

"alright," you say, tapping the paper. "heat one is jaxson, reneé, and..."

before you can finish, a silhouette of black and red steps into your peripheral.

mariah.

black leather jacket, tight red crop top, sweatpants low on her hips like she owns the pavement. she walks like a girl who knows she's untouchable—chin up, hair falling over her shoulders effortlessly, eyes locked on you.

"got my name on there?" she asks, voice smooth.

you glance up, meet her gaze. unreadable, but steady. it doesn't faze you at all.

"heat three," you say, clicking your pen and tapping the paper again. "against miles and taylor."

she hums, eyes scanning the list and sighing like she's disappointed. "figured i'd get someone tougher. guess not."

"miles' been doing pretty well," aiden chimes in. "heard taylor's been doing overtime off the track to prepare."

mariah shrugs, uninterested. "i'll dust 'em anyway."

"real humble, moore," is what you want to say, but you keep it in your mind. you don't doubt her words, you just don't feel like she has the right to brag that much just yet.

so you just nod instead, standing up and setting the clipboard on the table beside the flags.

"check-in's by the cones," you say simply, nodding toward the start. "just tell 'em your name and they'll put you in the lineup."

mariah doesn't move right away. she lingers. eyes still on you, tilting her head just a bit to meet your gaze.

"...you seem quiet tonight," she says. "nothin' like before."

you raise an eyebrow, eyes flicking to hers, "and what was i like before?"

she grins. "flirty. sharp. mouthy as hell."

you scoff, turning toward the cars. "maybe your conversations just aren't as flirt-worthy as the other girls' are."

aiden laughs a little, then starts to walk away when mariah glares at him.

mariah laughs, low and real. "okay, starter girl. i'll catch you after i win, sound good?"

you don't respond, instead offering a single nod that doesn't really come off as one. but the second she walks away, that flicker starts again. and not from her. definitely not from her.

from the back of your mind.

the itch of a ghost. again. billie, who always made you stumble over your words like no other—nearly making you forget to shoot the gun when she sent a wink your way from inside her car.

you don't even realizing you're scanning the lot again until aiden comes up and nudges your side.

"expecting someone else tonight?"

you blink. "nah."

but the lie tastes bitter. because billie's name isn't on your list. and you're still looking for her anyway.

praying silently that you'll hear the low hum of a bass line later in the night, that you'll feel the familiar vibration of her engine beneath your feet, through your body.

you look over at the start line just as matthew waves you over. heat one is lined up a few feet behind the line, engines revving, the racers exchanging glances.

the crowd goes quiet as you walk over, starting pistol in one hand, the other resting casually on your hip.

you raise your arm, breathing in deeply, eyes locked on the cars—then you shoot the gun.

they're off before you can even process it, a silver camaro speeding past the line quicker than the others. everyone bursts into loud cheers for their separate bids, others only screaming just to scream.

it was always comforting hearing the cheers and laughter coming from the crowd—even if they weren't for you, it felt like you were still getting your flowers each time you shot the gun and everyone erupted into a loud choir of excitement and happiness. you thrived on it, but never would you dare get behind the wheel and actually drive in one of the races.

billie always terrified you with the way she drove—sometimes with only her knees, other times with one hand while she went 100 on the last curve before she really stepped on the gas and flew down the finish line in first place.

you recall the times she asked you to ride with her. "everything's always better with you. like... like a good luck charm," she'd said to you, fingers twirling a strand of your hair between her fingers before one of the biggest races of her life—and the last race you'd seen her at.

the sound of an engine quickly approaching broke you out of your trance. jaxson's purple jaguar skidding across the finish. reneé comes in second, her black audi following a few feet behind.

then the crowd erupts in mixed reactions, some angry and sad, others screaming and jumping around happily like they've just been rewarded with a million dollars in cash—which, in reality, no bid today was even a quarter of that amount.

the next heat passes by slower than the first, a few rookies taking the wheels of cars that they definitely spent their entire life savings on and didn't research at all.

it's all heat and noise around you—couples kissing over the hoods of cars and girls arguing about something that sounds like a cheating boyfriend? you can't really hear over the loud, obnoxious rev of mariah's charger at the start line, the hood just a few inches away from your legs where you stood between her and her opponent.

you felt the atmosphere change as soon as her name was called to the line. the crowd went quieter, murmurs filling the night instead of loud hollers and disapproving boo's for opposing racers. you couldn't blame them, she was the biggest name in street racing right now—but she was no billie eilish. nowhere near that territory. she didn't even compare to your girl. not now, not ever.

but still, you can feel her eyes on you before she even rolls down her window, smirk calm and cocky. "promise me a date if i win?" it makes your lips curl into a small, amused smile.

"what's the point?" you say, tilting your head to see her better. "i already know taylor's gonna beat you by a mile."

mariah laughs once, hollow. "yeah, funny joke."

you cock a brow. "never said i was joking, moore."

aiden snaps at you off to the side. you don't bother giving him a mere glance. instead, you just walk over to mariah's window and lean over, lips so close she feels your breath on her skin.

"fine," you whisper. "but if you pull some shit like you did last time, except to be blacklisted from any future race you're lookin' forward to."

her expression change is so subtle you're sure nobody would think she's fazed even in the slightest, but you see the way her brows furrow just that little bit, the way her lips twitch in that cocky grin that's wavering on nervous now.

"good luck," the tone of your voice is sweeter than before, eyes softening as you walk back to the middle and pull the gun from it's holster in your belt.

mariah rolls her window back up slowly, eyes locking onto the road in front of her as silence envelopes the crowd.

pop.

and they're off.

everyone lets the quiet continue for a second longer before going insane. grown men are screeching like little girls as they scream mariah's name, bouncing on their toes as they watch her clear the curve. smooth. calculated.

everything she does almost looks staged.

taylor trails behind her in a white bmw m3, drifting around the curve and momentarily grabbing first place. you can feel the tension from all the way across the track, your own heart pounding wildly in your chest—the deal with mariah sounds stupid now that you're watching her keep up with taylor.

"shit," you sigh, stepping back from the track quickly and running a hand through your hair, eyes never once leaving the cars.

aiden walks up just as you say it. you hate how he always has the worst timing. "finally see why mariah was named the best?"

you shake your head, and it slips from between your lips before you can stop it. "no, just finally realizing how stupid i was for promising her a date if she won."

he smirks. "same thing."

the final stretch of the race has you clutching onto your pistol, breath caught in your throat—it's mariah and taylor. miles isn't even in the question anymore, having spun out near the first curve.

it's a blur of white and red as they pass the finish line, engines roaring over the crowds applause and screams. not even you can tell who won—and it seems that neither can the girls as they come to a stop and jump out of their cars, their breaths still controlled as if they didn't have everyone on the edge of their seats.

matthew runs to watch the playback, and you swear you see his hands shaking as he brushes past you.

it's quiet as everyone watches him rewind the tape from the camera at the line.

one beat.

two.

then, "mariah moore. first place by a millisecond."

it's even louder than you expect it to be—people honking their horns while hanging out of them in the parking lot, groups of friends crowding each other and jumping up and down, someone even pulling out a megaphone and starting a chant of mariah's name. that makes you let out a quiet giggle.

but as you watch mariah jump back in her car and park it off to the side, nothing's funny anymore—because her next stop was definitely your house, picking you up late in the afternoon tomorrow for the date.

mariah hops out of her car again, strutting over with even more confidence and cockiness than before. her eyes are locked on you, smile growing, hair flowing perfectly in the cool night air.

she stops in front of you, already pulling her phone out of her back pocket. "think you owe me—"

the sound of an unexpected rev catches everyone's attention. including yours—in fact, you're the first one to turn your head in the direction of the noise.

your heart nearly jumps out of your chest.

that familiar vibration of a bass through blown-out speakers, the thick exhaust smoke trailing behind the car—the car.

billie's black dodge challenger.

mariah is the last thing on your mind now, your eyes locked on the windshield, hoping you'd see her sexy grin even through the dark tint that was definitely illegal. she doesn't even park in a space, just stops in front of the check-in tent and gets out, jordan's hitting the ground lightly, shorts hanging low on her hips despite the temperature, brown strands falling over her shoulders.

the crowd has the same reaction as they did before mariah's race, but the murmurs are louder—more curious.

"is that really her?"

"holy shit, i thought she was gone for real."

"time for mariah to retire."

"didn't she quit?"

billie doesn't spare them a glance. her focus is set on the check-in table, steps long and filled with confidence that even had mariah crumbling a little. you watch as she walks toward aiden, who stood behind the table with a clipboard in hand. he looks up, and you swear you see his jaw drop.

"i want a race," she says—no, demands. firm. unrelenting. "the best you've got. can you do that for me?"

aiden stutters, struggling to find his voice as he steps forward. though he was starstruck, he was also very strict on the rules. "i—i'm sorry, we've already got everyone in their assigned heats. there's no—"

"nah, i don't think you heard me," billie brushes him off, shaking her head with a smirk that you always saw when she was getting pissed off. "i want a race."

"yeah, and i said—"

"she's right here, eilish," you cut in, motioning toward mariah, and billie's head turns instantly. the smirk on her face grows into one of excitement, eyes glinting with something you can't quite name.

the brunette scoffs, his eyes widening. "y/n, you can't—"

you eye him. "she's billie fuckin' eilish. go read an article before denying her again."

billie laughs quietly, pushing off the table and walking over to you, stepping between you and mariah, who she doesn't pay any mind. her eyes flick to your lips, biting down on her own before finally looking you in the eyes.

"miss me?" she whispers.

you shrug. "did you win yet?"

her smirk grows. then she gives a shrug of her own and raises her brows. "we'll see."

mariah steps forward just as billie steps back, the two of them now side by side in front of you. their eyes gravitate toward each other, both of them giving the other an obvious once-over before billie speaks.

"mariah moore," she murmurs. "i've heard about you. best racer in town as of now, yeah?"

"yeah," mariah answers quietly. "you must be billie. haven't shown up to a race since 2022, correct?"

the question has no obvious bite, but the tone in which she says it has billie poking the inside of her cheek in frustration, nodding her head instead of saying something stupid.

"hurry up, girls," you interrupt, nodding toward the line as they both look up at you.

"yes, ma'am." they answer.

billie jogs back to her car quickly, jumping in and pulling around to the line, the crowd pulling back and forming a path for her. it's nearly silent now as mariah reverses just behind the line again, the low hum of both engines setting the mood.

tension is high as you step onto the track again, planting your feet firmly onto the small sliver of pavement between both cars.

you look over at billie, who flashes a smirk before turning back to the road, lips lowering into a thin, tight line. once she was focused nobody was able to break her out—not until after she won the race.

then you glance at mariah, who's already staring at the road, gripping her steering wheel tighter than she did when put up against taylor and miles. the last race scared her, you could tell in the way she was so quiet after jumping out of her car earlier—so there was no doubt she was terrified right now.

your eyes flick to the pavement behind them, pulling out your gun and raising your arm, elbow straight. you inhale, exhale.

the gun goes off.

and so do billie and mariah.

billie's challenger jumps forward first in your peripheral, and you turn quickly to see who gets the starting advantage. it's billie, per usual. the adrenaline running through your veins is 20x more strong than it was when you were watching mariah's race. because after not seeing billie race in so long, you're unsure if she still has it.

but you don't lean into the doubt just yet.

mariah's red charger weaves around billie's challenger, taking the curve perfectly and bursting out of it. she doesn't get far. billie kicks her gear lower and speeds past mariah with practiced ease, accelerating quick and drifting on the last curve.

you hold your breath as mariah creeps up on billie, engine revving loud as she tries keeping up with her—but billie's already got the length of a car hood between her. the crowd screams in anticipation, watching as billie bolts through the finish line and slowly comes to a stop.

mariah follows behind her, tires not moving nearly as fast as billie's were. the crowd is speechless, not even hollering coherent words anymore, just babbles of nonsense and excited cheers and squeals.

billie reverses with her head sticking out of her window, a proud grin on her face as she parks just off of the track. she steps out, and you can already feel the smugness radiating off her even from a few feet away.

she walks over to mariah, tapping her shoulder and holding out a hand. "good race," she compliments. "'m'not bad, considering i've been gone since 2022, right?"

you see mariah's expression flip quickly, brows furrowing in frustration as she pushes away from billie and mutters something under her breath.

billie's in front of you before you can even announce the winner—even though it's clear.

"let's try this again," she breathes, taking your hand and bringing it up to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. "miss me?"

your hand finds the collar of her shirt, pulling her close, lips mere inches away from hers. "you know i did."

you don't let her get another word out before kissing her. hard. passionate. like you've been waiting for this since the last moment you saw her. because you have. you've been waiting for it so desperately and now you finally get to do it.

her hands find your waist, pulling your hips forward, pressing your body flush against hers as she kisses you back just as passionately, eyes fluttering shut, heart thumping against her chest so loud she's sure you've already heard it.

you pull away abruptly, breathing hard. "let me show you."

billie doesn't miss a beat—and you don't even care about the small, sharp pain in your wrist as she twists it, dragging you toward her car and practically shoving you into the passenger seat.

you swear you hear aiden call after you, but billie's already pressing on the gas and speeding out of the lot without a second thought.

she doesn't drive far from the noise, pulling off to the side directly under a blue streetlight, a ray shining in through the tinted windshield. billie shifts into park, then glances over at you, still breathless.

neither of you say another word. you just climb over the center console and straddle her lap, legs pressed against either of her thighs, hands snaking up her chest and around her neck, squeezing lightly just to hear her gasp.

then you lean forward, lips finding hers, rougher than before—dirtier because you weren't accompanied by a large, judgemental crowd. billie's tongue presses against your lips, asking politely for entrance. you grant it without another thought in your hazy mind, moaning softly against her mouth when you feel her tongue clashing against yours.

her hands slide down your body, squeezing your waist gently. then they move down to your ass, pulling you down against her lap, pulling you closer to her like she wants to morph your bodies into one.

"don't ever fuckin' leave like that again," you growl against her lips, kissing down her jaw, then scattering open-mouthed kisses along the expanse of her neck.

she huffs a laugh, head falling back against the headrest, eyelids fluttering shut as she lets out a small, relaxed breath.

your teeth nip softly at her pulse point, eliciting a pained hiss from between her pretty lips—you soothe the bite with your tongue, sucking gently, the sensation a contrast from the sharp pain just moments ago.

billie brings a hand up to your hair, fingers tangling in the messy strands of your hair. "thought you'd have forgiven me by now."

a scoff escapes your throat at her words, but it dies down into a surprised gasp when she bucks her hips up, something hard pressing against your clothed core. a shiver runs up your spine.

"don't get an attitude with me now, sweetheart."

you roll your eyes, lips pressing back onto her skin, one of your hands snaking down her chest and slipping under the hem of her shirt, fingertips teasing the smooth skin of her stomach. her breath catches noticeably, pulse jumping under your tongue.

"i have every right to have an attitude with you," you grumble, palm finding the cup of her bra and squeezing through the fabric. "i should fucking hate you. i mean, you kissed me and then up and left without another word. a text would've been enough, billie."

billie bucks her hips again, groaning at the pleasure.

"let me make it up to you then," she pants, slapping your ass.

her hand untangles from your hair, sliding down your neck, your chest, your stomach, before eventually snaking down into your little shorts. the damp spot on your panties is enough to make her moan, eyelids fluttering open to meet your eyes as you gasp.

she stares directly into your eyes while stroking your clit through your panties, biting her lip and smiling as she watches your brows furrow in pleasure, hands finding her shoulders, nails digging into her skin even through the fabric of her shirt.

then she slips her fingers past the cotton waistband, fingertips sliding through your soaked folds, running along your dripping slit and slowly pushing in two of them. the moan that escapes your throat is long. loud. like you've been holding it in for her since before you can remember.

your eyes roll back when she scissors her index and middle fingers inside of your cunt, thighs trembling around her lap, nails unrelenting on her shoulders.

"yeah," she coos. "there you go, baby girl. just needed me to fill this greedy pussy of yours for you to shut up, hm?"

billie lets out a moan of her own when you roll your hips forward, pressing down just enough for her to feel it through both the fabric of your pants and her own. she bites her lip, hips bucking up involuntarily as she watches you get off on her fingers.

she inhales sharply. "so tight, too. fuck," she breathes. "been waitin' for me, haven't you?"

you nod mindlessly, jaw falling agape when billie pushes her fingers deeper, thumb finding your clit and pressing down hard. if that wasn't making you see stars, the added pleasure of her lips on your neck definitely was.

"billie, oh my fucking—" you cut yourself off with a guttural moan, hips stuttering against her palm. "god—i—fuck you."

you feel her grin grow against your neck, lips so soft and plump and mind-consuming as she continues kissing you, fucking you. deep. hard. passionate.

"in a minute, doll," she teases. "can't even be patient and wait for my cock. so fuckin' greedy." she murmurs, kissing her teeth.

a low whine of frustration emits from your throat at her teasing, walls clenching around her fingers as you feel your orgasm start to approach quickly. your breathing goes shallow, quick, short breaths falling from between your kiss-swollen lips.

"shit—gonna, oh my god, m'gonna cum!" you whine.

billie huffs. "c'mon, mama. make a mess f'me."

and you do.

with a loud, broken moan, your walls flutter around her fingers and you finally feel the knot snap in your tummy. she slowly works you down from your high, muttering sweet nothings into your neck as she leaves a litter of kisses all over your skin.

her free hand creeps up your chest, fingers wrapping loosely around your neck—casually. like she owns you.

and after this, maybe she will.

"this make up for my absence?" she hums, thumb running along your pulse point, feeling it jump under the pad of her fingers. she presses down, eliciting a gasp from you.

you laugh quietly, but it cuts off into a disappointed moan when billie slips her fingers out of your cunt slowly.

she brings them up to her lips just as you open your eyes, pushing them in, plump lips wrapping around lengthy digits, tongue moving between the crevices and licking off every last remnant of your sweetness.

cold blue eyes never leave yours, eyelids hooded and dark with lust and desperation—and love, above everything.

you bite your lip, already pulling off your shorts and ruined panties, throwing them into the backseat. "m'still mad at you. but i know what'll make it better..."

billie releases her fingers with a 'pop,' a smirk growing on her lips once again. she cocks an eyebrow, tilting her head, eyes finally leaving yours to trail down your half-naked body. her eyes land on your dripping pussy, clit swollen and puffy, arousal leaking down your smooth thighs. she groans.

"yeah, and what's that?" she inquires, hips already moving.

silence. instead, you answer with your hands—fingers undoing the button of her jeans, then pulling down her zipper. you lift yourself slightly, tugging her jeans down until they fall to her ankles.

there's a small damp spot on her boxers, a large bulge prominent in the dark fabric, straining against it. billie whimpers when you cup your hand over the print, hips lifting instinctively at the touch.

she hisses when you squeeze gently, your eyes finally snapping up to hers.

"this—" you squeeze her again. then adding, "—inside of me."

billie nods eagerly, hands leaving your body, moving quickly to pull down the last layer of fabric that was currently denying her access to your core. she could feel the warmth stronger now that her lower half was clad in only her boxers.

you lift your hips again, helping billie tug the fabric down to ankles, joining her jeans. her cock springs up, slapping against her lower stomach softly before standing at attention.

her tip is a light red, leaking profusely with pre-cum that spills down her 9 inch shaft until it reaches the base. she's already such a sticky mess and you've hardly touched her.

it made you giggle.

"looks like you missed me more," you tease, looking at her through your lashes.

billie sighs, nodding again, hands scrambling to find your hips again. she tries pulling you closer, tries to even run the tip of her cock through your slick folds—but your nails dig into her forearms, and she yelps quietly.

"hypocritical much, don't you think?" you giggle again, and billie pouts deeply, hands relaxing on your hips. "patience, baby—remember that?"

you lift yourself higher, positioning your dripping slit directly over billie's tip, and you hear her breath hitch before you even sink down in the slightest. and when you lower yourself, billie lets out a noise you weren't sure she was even capable of.

she whimpers brokenly—high-pitched and already hoarse—as her cock splits you open, stretching you out slowly as you continue to lower yourself until you reach the base.

billie's nails dig crescent-shaped indents into your skin, the pleasure already too overwhelming.

"fuuck," she groans, dragging it out. her head falls back against the headrest, eyes squeezed shut. "you—fuck—have you, mmh, always been this t-tight?"

you moan softly when you feel billie buck her hips up again, her tip kissing your cervix. she gasps at the feeling, cock twitching between your gummy, warm walls.

her mind goes blank.

you stay in the position for a moment longer, trying to adjust to her size. your hands wrap around her neck, nails scratching along her skin and sending a shiver down her spine. the feeling of your breath so hot on her lips has her in a trance she's not sure she'll be able to break out of.

billie leans forward to capture your lips in a needy, sloppy kiss just as you start to move, hips lifting until all that was left inside of you was her tip—then slamming back down. hard. desperate.

both of your moans are muffled against each other's mouths, lips parting. you sneak your tongue into her mouth, tasting her—and she falls apart even further underneath you, fingers twitching at your sides.

your hands slide across her neck, hips grinding fast, hard, just right for the both of you—billie squeals into your mouth when she feels you clench around her.

"baby, fuck," she grunts, grabbing onto your hips tighter and thrusting her hips up, pushing her cock deeper. "missed you, missed you so—god, i missed you so much. c-couldn't stop thinkin' about you."

a moan passes by your lips when you pull away. "yeah? touched yourself to—shit—to me?"

billie nods frantically, brows knitting together and jaw falling lower. her hips stutter—a clear sign of her impending orgasm. but you don't stop. don't even pull away or slow down in the slightest.

you needed it. needed to feel her cum inside of you.

the windows fog around you, and now the blue shine from the streetlight is hazy, different shades of blues spilling in through the windshield and onto your bodies and faces. you can feel the car shaking beneath you two.

but it only urges you to keep going.

harder.

faster.

billie mewls quietly, struggling to hold herself together. "holy shit—baby. baby, baby, m'gonna cum! can't hold—fuck, i can't hold it, i—"

"cum, bil," you moan. loud. breathy. "want it—need it so bad. please, please cum inside me."

the second that jumbled sentence left your mouth, billie let herself go—body trembling, mind short-circuiting. your jaw falls open in a silent moan at the combined pleasure of your own orgasm and the feeling of thick, warm ropes of her cum painting your insides.

billie whimpers beneath your body, nuzzling her head into the crook of your neck like she needs your scent to stay alive.

it's all heat and heavy breathing after that—the windows still fogged, skin still layered with a thin sheen of sweat, loose hairs sticking to your neck and forehead. billie stays with her face in your neck, arms wrapping around your back, your own hands still around her neck.

billie pulls out slowly as not to overstimulate you any further, helping you lift yourself off her lap. you lean over the center console and grab your shorts from the backseat, pulling them on once you're seated in the passenger side.

you watch billie pull up her own boxers and jeans, buttoning and zipping them with trembling fingers, still facing a few of the aftershocks of her orgasm.

and, though she's still spent, billie's the first to talk.

"...do you forgive me now?"

you can't help but giggle—you wonder how she still even remembered the situation you two were in. it slipped your mind the second you sunk down on her cock.

"i think you know the answer to that," you exhale, stroking her damp hair gently.

billie hums, then pulls away from your neck, eyes softer than you'd ever seen—sincere, a little worried. "...yeah, but i wanna hear you say it."

your face changes, features softening once you hear the quiet, shaky tone of her voice. fear swirled in the pools of her ocean blue irises, and it's only then that you realize she really was worried about this the entire time.

taking her face in your hands, you pull her close, eyes flicking back and forth between the two of hers. she bites her lip, an unreadable expression flashing over her features—fear again, maybe. or maybe it's hope. you can't tell.

"i never hated you for leaving, billie," you explain. firm. "it just... scared me. i thought you wouldn't come back, and i almost lost hope—until tonight."

a ghost of a grin curls on billie's lips.

"so, yes, i do forgive you. even if i still think kissing me before leaving without another word was really low of you," you murmur.

billie inhales, exhales. "i know, that—that was stupid of me."

her lips find your cheek, then your forehead. and, finally, your lips. and then she looks at you again. "nationals were just... they were all over the place, and i finally realized that i had some sort of feelings toward you. but i didn't know what they were—"

"—and when you were the first one to come up and hug me after i won, i just—i felt so full of love and adoration and it all just spilled over and—" she pauses. finds her words. "and i kissed you because i felt like it was too early to tell you..."

she trails off, voice going quiet near the end. she looks away for a moment. and when she feels your thumb brush across her cheek, her eyes snap back.

"...to tell you that i loved—that i love you."

your breath catches.

it's not what you expected her to say—far from anything that popped into your mind. but everything you were thinking quickly faded as soon as she said those three little words:

i love you.

words that you'd only hear in teasing tones from drunk guys who came up to you during races, from racers that were still riding high on the adrenaline they got from winning.

but now, hearing it from billie, it felt like your whole world shifted on it's axis.

billie's cheeks flush pink when you don't reply, shifting uncomfortably in her seat and nearly pulling away from your touch—but you pull her back. into a kiss. one that's far more passionate than the ones before. it's filled with something you can't describe with words. something far stronger than love and adoration and admiration.

when you pull away, you're both out of breath.

"i love you, too," you murmur after a beat, eyes never leaving billie's. you wanted her to know that you meant it.

and, by the look on her face, you were almost 100% sure it got through to her. a cheesy smile curled up on her lips, her teeth shining bright even in the dark space of the car. you return the same smile, and billie practically throws her arms around you.

she pulls you as close as she can over the center console, nose nuzzled into your neck, inhaling your scent—and it felt like she was smelling an entire different person. because now there was a weight lifted off her chest and a something new blooming in her heart.

you hold her just as tight, unable to get rid of the stupidly big smile on your face—especially when you feel billie's fingers twitching nervously on your back.

you both just hold each other like that for a few minutes. in silence. but it's not an uncomfortable silence, far from it. it's warm. gentle. filled with shared understanding.

and, suddenly, you forget that she even left in the first place.

tags. @mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @love4madii @livvydunneness @partyf4vor @chxhir0 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @slxtarchive @bilsdillldough @47lake @hopingforgoodblogs @mybluebossanova @strwberrybils @justtr @greenbttrflyy @billsbaby @bilsova @lottiepierce @northlndnisred @asterisk-eyes @dragoneyelashart @xxangelfarrlzxx @ilomiloblohshh @kittymarrow @meliciousmel13 @jul3esz @rightarion @svelish @eilishssiennaa @eeuni @dragoneyelashart @thinkshespretty @cnnibalize @canthelpit0 @hailwiggly @karaaeilish @bilswifee @drunkinyourbenz @aka-persephone @bitchesbrokenpromises @jayjaywetforbils @slvt4subchratt @cantlandonmyfeet @tezzzzzzzz

[heartyluv]

Note: I already yapped my head off —here— but I will never stop saying it because it means so much to me…thank you so much my luvlys for over 1K followers. This fic literally became something of its own—the characters, the information, the story. Like I want to know more myself LOLLL!!!

Creds to @/strangergraphics-archive for the dividers! + The images below do not belong to me!

Warning: Caleb is eating that 🐱

Word count: 4.5K (bigger than i thought -that’s what she said-)

Summary: Avoiding him wasn’t bound to last forever.

TattooArtist!Caleb/Reader

You sighed after you put the car in park, looking over at your best friend. Currently, Bea was grumbling to herself as she rummaged through her purse to find her phone before she heads into work. You smiled as she kept tucking her deep blue hair behind her ear each time it fell into her face, opting to hold it back for her with your palm gently pressed against the rebel strands.

She looked at you with a quick smile of gratitude, flashing her smiley piercing before returning to her bag that was too big to be hauling around on a regular basis. It was her favorite thing in the world, though, so she’d never get rid of it.

You and Bea have been attached at the hip since you were in third grade. As time went on, even if you two knew one another like the back of your hand, you were polar opposites. Where you were a clean slate, simple, and reserved, Bea was decorated in stunning tattoos, flashy bangles, bracelets and jewelry, and the most outgoing individual you’ve ever experienced. And you absolutely loved her for it.

“I might’ve left it in your fucking room,” she groaned loudly in annoyance. Bea had spent the night in your apartment for the last few days and it was for no reason in particular. She liked coming over, you loved her company, so she stayed. You’re someone who works from home—thankfully—so you’re with each other all day until she has to go to work. Since she’s been with you, you didn’t mind driving her there and picking her up after for dinner. Especially on days like today where you were off.

Bea is one of the best tattoo artists in the world—sure it may be biased, but you didn’t care. Though, it was a fact that she’s one of the best in the state. She even has a plaque at her place to prove it and you have the photos when she and other artists were rewarded for it. Her range and ability to bring her art to life on a human being has always fascinated you.

The parlor she works in is one that has been a monument in the tattoo community for three decades now, owned by an uncle and his nephew. You’ve been in there a few times—a lot of them for reasons you keep tucked away.

“I can go get it and bring it back, if you want,” you offered. She frowned, but she was nothing but appreciative as she leaned over the center console to hug you.

“You’d literally be my hero.”

“When am I not?” you chuckle. “You’ll still be available for my appointment, right?”

“Of course, duh!” she exclaimed. “No one gets to see those beautiful nips but me and maybe your future baby. And whatever guy is lucky enough one day.” She waggles her eyebrows and shimmies her shoulders.

You shake your head, ushering her out the car so she isn’t late. Once she’s inside, your mind immediately drifts to the fact that Bea is supposed to be doing something for you. Something that she convinced you would boost your sexiness and confidence, even if no one but you would see them.

Nipple piercings.

You never would’ve thought you’d even consider doing something like that since the mere thought of a needle getting near you makes you nervous—let alone near your nipples. But you wanted something new. You wanted change. You wanted to have something about you that made you feel good.

Traffic was insane to and back, making you a whopping seven extra minutes late.

Thankfully, you got ahold of Bea’s phone quicker than you expected, finding it right under the pillow she slept on last night. She was in a little bit of a hurry this morning, so you’re not surprised that she forgot it as she focused all her attention on getting it together.

Once you gathered your things, you made your way inside Luvly Inkz. Immediately, you’re greeted by Sleep Token playing on the speakers and the subtle buzz of tattoo guns at work. With a quick once over, you don’t see Bea, but you’re nothing short of relieved when you don’t see him.

“Hey, there’s our girl!” shouts Uncle Wiz. The dark skinned older man grins at you from where he sits as he works on a client. Everyone calls him Uncle when they meet him because that’s always the type of relationship you get with the kind hearted gentleman who is completely decked out in ink. He’s like a magician with the way he executes his work, so being called Wiz isn’t too far fetched.

“Hey, Wiz. Hey, everybody,” you announce and they all offer a quick warm welcoming. “I know it’s been a while. You can thank Bea for my presence today. She in the back? I got her phone.”

“Nah,” Wiz focuses back on the lady listening to music through her earbuds as he fills in the large outline on her side. “Her and her dude got into again. He hasn’t even clocked in yet—had her sitting there losing her cool over the work phone. Told her to go take a breather.”

The need to go and find your best friend is strong, especially knowing that she’s out there with no phone or way for you to reach her efficiently. But you know her better than anyone to understand that she could handle herself, she didn’t like being crowded, and that the best thing right now was to let her do as Wiz said, and breathe.

Bea and her boyfriend Marquis work together at Luvly Inkz, which one could argue has its pros and cons. When they’re good, they’re like a power couple—an unstoppable force. But when it gets like this? When they fight and argue about something that ranges from completely stupid to detrimental enough to break up over, they’re like ticking time bombs that have a higher probability of detonating if they stay close.

But Uncle Wiz would never fire them because their bickering and disputes never stopped them from doing what they needed to do. Work was always done on time, correctly, and clients always walked out happy. It was a level of professionalism he knew he could trust them with, even with their personal problems.

But it wasn’t working out for you right now because you were supposed to be laying on Bea’s table, ready to get your nipples stabbed.

“Were you scheduled with her? I might be able to get it done for you really fast, depending on what it is.”

“It was a…piercing,” you say simply. Uncle Wiz nods.

“She finally broke you, huh?” he chuckled before looking around the room. “All of our girls are busy right now, but we’ve got Caleb here. He actually came in, despite me telling him to take off for his birthday. He got in not too long ago, and if you’re comfortable with him doing it, he won’t mind. Just tell him what it is since he’s qualified to do them all.”

Your whole body freezes.

Caleb.

The same Caleb who took your virginity and made you know what it was like to be desperate for dick for the first and only time in your life.

The same Caleb who you have regretted sleeping with ever since you learned he…gets around.

The same Caleb who admittedly never did anything wrong, but you were embarrassed and ashamed for succumbing to him so easily when you were certain—without viable proof—that the way he got you was by utilizing a technique he’s likely used too many times to count.

Bea was the one who—accidentally—told you after she wondered where you and him disappeared off to during the night of the party she threw for Marquis’ birthday at a luxury house she rented for the event.

You and Caleb were pretty cool before you had sex, having actually been acquaintances for a good few years. There wasn’t much you knew about him, other than that his talent rivaled Bea, he was annoyingly attractive, and had the body of a fucking god. You met him almost six years ago when she started working at Luvly Inkz and just clicked instantly about a lot of things.

So when he and you sat on the balcony that night just talking about everything and nothing like you knew each other so well, it was so hard for the crush you had formed over time to remain at bay. You never thought the attraction was mutual, but then, when he ended up kissing you? When he asked you if you’d let him fuck you? You knew you should’ve told him no, but the way he pressed his hardness into you and called you pretty—you were a goner.

He made—what you thought at the time—sweet love to you as his hips rocked back and forth slowly to let you adjust. You touch yourself at night when you think about the way he rolled the condom onto his heavy cock, when he filled you up like he was made to complete you.

After it all and you fixed yourself to face everyone again, you couldn’t stop smiling. But unintentionally, the words Bea spoke when she found you alone in the kitchen is what caused the rift.

“Dude, where were you and Caleb? Please don’t tell me you fucked him!” she joked with a nudge. “Seriously he’s like a walking attraction or something. Never heard the words “thank you for last night” so many times by so many different women in my life, ugh!”

You’ve been distant ever since. Every phone call and text was ignored and you stopped coming into the parlor entirely. You beat yourself up a lot about that.

How could you not have known better?

He literally carried a condom on him and the way he worked your body was not a man who kept to himself.

Bea felt awful because both of you are her friends and she hated that you felt the way you did after you admitted your truth, but she respected it.

You told her how you thought it was a special thing, that you and him were going to become more. Maybe you would’ve, but you’d never know now.

It wasn’t that you judged Caleb. Him having a past doesn’t dictate him, but the way he is wasn’t something he grew out of. You slept with that version. Before you had that information, you felt like what you shared with him was something special, but you concluded that it was just another day for him. To think you would be the one to become some life altering catalyst was foolish—so it was safer to rid him of your system entirely. It hurt and it stung as your brain worked to convince yourself that he just wanted to get his dick wet and you were easy enough to do it for him.

Being here today only happened because like Uncle Wiz was saying and based on what Bea had told you, he wasn’t supposed to be working because he originally took off for his birthday.

As you prepare to shake off and decline Wiz’s request, Caleb walks into the wide open space. In that moment, every single emotion, thought, and feeling you worked hard to suppress after all these months came rushing back like a hurricane fueled flood.

“We were just talking about you,” Wiz said as he told Caleb to come closer. You refused to look at him. But you could feel his eyes burning into you the closer he got.

Then when his cinnamon apple like scent flooded your nostrils, you tried to hold your breath like you were a vampire trying not to pounce on a human being whose blood smelled equivalent to ambrosia.

“She’s looking to get a piercing done, but Bea was supposed to do it and…well, you saw the tail-end of her and Marquis’ argument. If she’s cool with you doing it, you mind?”

“I don’t mind at—”

“I can come back another time,” you interrupt, keeping your focus on Wiz.

Caleb chuckles at your dismissive tone. But he’s not letting you get away again so easily. “If you don’t want your piercing done, fine. But I’m sure you at least want to know about Bea?” You turn your head slightly, but still not giving him your eyes.

“Marquis called me, but I don’t think you or them want the entire parlor in their business.”

Caleb and Marquis are similar to you and Bea in terms of friendship—really close and tight knit. They’ve been friends since high school and found their way through the tattoo world together.

You can see in the corner of his eye how he tilts his head in the direction he came. “Cmon, I’ll tell you what he told me so you don’t worry.”

Every part of you wants to leave and not be in any secluded area with this man, but you are concerned about Bea. You don’t want to cause a scene of trying to get out of this by curtly denying him and making Uncle Wiz wonder what your deal is.

Honestly, you didn’t know if anybody else knew what happened between you and Caleb. You know you never said anything, Bea never said anything, and you’re sure Caleb didn’t. 

And you would like to keep that under wraps forever, if you could. So you just nod, still looking at everything but Caleb until he begins to walk. As you follow him, you can’t help but begin to admire his strong tattooed arms in his sleeveless black shirt and the black jeans that hug his waist so well.

His boots thud against the floor on your journey down the vintage-esque hallway with several photos and copious amounts of unique artwork.

Once Caleb approaches the second to last door at the end, he steps aside to let you enter. You’re greeted by a slightly messy room with pencils and markers, rough drafts of pieces pinned across the walls, as well as a table with a light and equipment that seems like it was just in use.

“Sorry for the mess,” he apologizes as he shuts the door and flips the light switch to illuminate everything. “Was working on a project for a client—”

“Is Bea okay?” You stare at the floor as if your sneaker clad feet would be the one to answer your question.

“She’s fine. Marquis told me he was able to find her at some park they usually go to. He said they were talking everything out and that they’d be here before either of their first appointments.” It goes silent. “He said Bea appreciates you getting her phone and that she’ll make it up to you about these piercings you were getting.”

“Okay,” you huff. “Thank you.”

You get ready to walk out the door he stands besides, but he grabs your arm gently.

“Don’t…go.” He scoffs out a laugh. “I mean, fuck, can we talk?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“That’s bullshit. We fucked, or have you seem to forgotten that like you have my existence, apparently?” He gets closer to you, but you move back. “And when I tried to reach out, you ignored me, Bea wouldn’t tell me shit, and then I haven’t seen your face in months.”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” you say sharply.

“Okay, but I do. You don’t get to make a decision about us without giving me a say so.”

For the first time in months, you put your eyes directly on his. And fuck…is he ethereal.

“Us?” you repeat in disbelief. “There is no us. There was never an us. We were barely considered friends!”

“There she is,” he grins like his plan that you didn’t even know he had, worked perfectly. “Now that you gave me your eyes, you gonna tell me why you ghosted me after the night we had, or am I supposed to try and figure it out through your scowls?”

“Caleb, get out the way.”

“Make me get out of the way,” he dares. “I let up on you before out of respect and I don’t care how you viewed the dynamic between us—I don’t like how you apparently chose to end it after what we did. Did I fuck up? Was I too rough?”

“Why does it fucking matter? We’re not a thing! We don’t owe each other anything!”

“So there was a problem,” he concludes.

The only way you’re getting out of this room is if you tell him something. Unfortunately, your brain decides to tell him the truth instead of sticking with the lie that you curated on the tip of your tongue.

“We were never close enough for what we did to be more than what it was. I simply removed myself so that you could get back to being the way that you are.”

Immediately he’s insulted, shaking his head like he has to jumble your words up again to make sure he understood you. “The fuck do you mean the way that I am? How exactly am I?”

“It seems like everyone but you knows,” you mumble.

He wipes his hand down his face in frustration. “Could you cut the riddle bullshit and just say it?”

“No.” Your determination is admirable, but he sees through your facade. He sees the way your nipples strain against your ribbed tank top, the way you can’t stop staring at the tattoos along his fingers, the piercing in his brow, or the one on his tongue when he licks his lips out of habit.

“I have to get it out of you, then?”

“You’re not doing anything but moving so that I can leave.”

“You wanna bet?”

Caleb couldn’t understand why you going cold bothered him so much. You’re not the first girl to be one and done with him, but you’re the first where he felt—no, knew—that there was something specific that made you pull away from him. He wanted to let it go, to let it be, but he also promised himself that if he ever saw you again, he’d get his answer one way or another.

You watch with wary eyes as his hand goes to the lock behind him, clicking it into place to keep you stuck in here with him.

“If you tell me no—if you tell me that you’re serious and that you want me to back off, I’ll never bother you again. But if you don’t utter that word before I get my hands on you, since I couldn’t get you to tell me what your problem is…I’ll have to make you.”

The thought of Caleb never talking to you again sends a wave of sadness through you. You know you should be protesting, but in truth…you don’t want to. Much to his liking, you don’t answer.

“Figured,” he says confidently.

Your body feels like it’s made of jello with the way you wobble where you stand.

“No bra and Bea being the one to do it for you…” he shifts the conversation, smiling widely as it settles in. “You were piercing your nipples, baby?”

“That’s none of your business.” Your face immediately grows hot.

“My tongue is about to be in your pussy in the next few seconds, so yeah. It is my business.”

Your eyebrows furrow, but there’s no time to be confused because he takes two grand steps your way, lifting you just enough to sit you down on the padded piercing table.

He doesn’t bother teasing or playing with you anymore, sucking on your nipples through your shirt when your tits are in his face. Your back arches into his hot mouth instinctively, your pussy throbbing in your jeans because of the metal ball in his mouth that swipes against your sensitive peaks each time he alternates between which one he thinks needs some more love.

“I’ll pierce them for you when I’m done. I know them better than Bea, don’t I?” he chuckles when your objection shifts into a moan that you have to suppress with your hand to your mouth.

“Tell me why,” he mumbles into your tits, gently biting on them when you pull his hair a little too hard from the intensity.

“I’m scared I’ll be wrong,” you shockingly admit through unshed tears when he starts to kiss up your neck, feeling the chill of his month being away from where you need them to return.

That thought crossed your mind a lot. That you shot yourself in the foot over something underlying that you weren’t ready to admit.

Caleb may sleep around, but what if he really did want you in ways you didn’t know?

What if you would’ve just went and fucking asked him instead of assuming?

But the fear of it being the opposite, experiencing that realization and embarrassment, trumped any other potential belief.

“Let me take that fear away, then.”

You remain focused on the way he brings your hips to the edge of the table, undoing your jeans as he kisses your lips. Your hands frantically grasp at his hair that he’s cut a little shorter, but it’s a difference you like. Skillfully, he holds the kiss as he guides you to lift your hips to get your pants down your legs without needing to say a word.

“Tell me yes,” he pecks your lips several times, a string of saliva constantly forming from how wet the exchange is. “Like the first time. The way you begged me. Let me hear you again, pretty. You don’t understand how much I’ve missed it.”

There’s so many emotions and questions coursing through you as you nod quickly, your eyes prickling with tears. You pull at the hair on the nape of his neck, your fingertips finding their way to the simple quote down the side of it. It’s like you’re trying to trace him to commit him to memory in case this really is something you’ll never have again.

“Please…Please taste me, Caleb..”

“You’re so good, baby,” he breathes, falling to his knees so that he can worship you better than he did when he slid inside your pussy. Immediately, he covers your mound with his mouth. You can’t sit up like this anymore when he starts to suck your clit, your body giving out on you as you slowly fall back and onto the cool leather.

The metal in his mouth teases your sensitive nub while his tongue writes his name into your flesh. Each stroke of the thick muscle between your sensitive lips is enough to finally pull the tears from your ducts to cascade down your temples.

He pulls back, gathering his spit to drench your cunt in it before delving back into you like a second wasted will make you realize that this isn’t where you want to be.

“I fucking missed you,” he declares, licking long stripes up and down your pretty pussy. “I haven’t touched anyone since you let me have you. I couldn’t get you off my mind.”

You choke on your cries, a foreign warmth completing you at the sincerity of his words.

He indulges in you like a man starved of what is rightfully his and all you can do is become a mess under his spell. The wet sounds of your juices as his tongue opens you up like a wallflower, drives you to be incapable of holding on any longer.

“I’m gonna come…” Your hold in his dark strands grow tighter.

“I know...You’re so sensitive, just like I remember. Like I always dream about.”

The confidence in his response, like the one time with your body was all it took for him to know it so well, makes you bite your lip hard as your body jerks when you orgasm makes you feel what it’s like to be torn between two realms.

His nose moves back and forth in your warmth, your walls clenching around his tongue while he continues to spread your slick everywhere he can.

You can’t control your moans, your legs raising to give him room at the same time your tits rise and fall in an effort to ground yourself.

Caleb quickly separates from you, standing up to climb over your body, attacking your lips so that he can swallow your cries. Your taste on his tongue makes you whine into the kiss the more he licks into your mouth. He rests his forehead against yours, his breath fanning against your face.

“I thought I was just another notch on your belt,” you finally voice the truth to him. “I thought you used me, and I was too scared to find out if it was true.”

“Oh, baby…” he breathed in defeat as if your words have crushed his heart. “You thought you were a fling?”

“How could I not? You have…a history, Caleb.”

“That’s fair—if we were strangers.”

“We might as well have been.” Your breath finally settles. “I didn’t exactly know how you moved until after, when Bea told me. We don’t know each other as much as you seem to think we do.”

“You seem to not know me, but pretty girl,” he kisses your neck. “I know you.”

“I feel like that needs some explaining.”

“It does,” he smiles. “Let me take you home after I get off. I’ll tell you everything you don’t know. That can be your other birthday gift to me.”

You ruminate on his proposition before you agree, but every single nerve in your body—aside from having the orgasm—is raised.

What does he know? What has he been hiding?

But it’s no point in pondering on something you have zero clue about. Like he said—tonight, you’ll learn.

True to his word, after Caleb cleans you up, he sanitizes your nipples, prepares his station like its second nature, and pierces them for you. He guided you through every breath and praised you for each successful puncture. He even admired them with you as he stood in front of a mirror with you in front of him so that you could admire yourself.

You didn’t know if it was Caleb, the piercings, or both, but you could feel and understand that confidence Bea spoke of.

“I can’t wait until they heal,” he kisses down your neck, pressing his bare chest to your back. He never brought up the fact that he didn’t come, so you assumed the reason the poor man behind you got so heated that he had to take his shirt off, is because he needs to come.

But you’re not going to say anything either. Since he apparently has something’s he’s kept secret, maybe he needs this little punishment.

But you can’t deny that the view of the few tattoos on his body doesn’t make you want to put his cock in your mouth.

“What will you do once they are?”

“You’ll see. Just don’t disappear on me again, yeah? It’s good to check in with your piercer. Have to make sure everything is healing nicely.” He grips your waist, making you suppress a smile.

When you’re finished, Caleb gives you a large spare shirt of his since your tank top is still wet from where he sucked on your nipples.

At the same time that you leave the room with him right on your tail, Bea and Marquis walk in. Thankfully, they look way happier than whatever was being said about them earlier. But, Bea’s eyes look at you, then Caleb, the shirt you wear, and the slight flush on his cheeks.

That’s all she needs to know that you two have a whole bunch of hours of crucial information to exchange ahead of you, but when you tell her where you’ll be tonight, she’s going to wish she was a fly on the wall.

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this, like it honestly felt like I was writing a chapter for a novel in a weird way. I can only hope you luvlys actually enjoyed this as it’s more of a full fledged out story than it is straight up sex going on and it wasn’t even really any of that in this. I’m sorry if that’s what you were looking for, by my masterlist is full of it, so I’m sure you’ll be fine LOLLL.

Tags 🏷️: @innergardentoadpony @teacupwaifu @mcdepressed290 @calebapplepie @xcelfer @honeymoonfleur @obeythebutler @ajyoursgirl @notsurewhattocallthisblog8888 @honeycrispangels @dummiebunny @sucre-princesse @brailsthesmolgurl @klossnite @grlyeetswrld @beesin03 @dramaticalsachan @moonchildjae00 @asiatic-apple @callads7 @caien @stargirlygirl @multisstuff @littledarlingsthings @purpleamethyst25 @lazygelpen @floatinginaer @meadowinthesky @floatinginaer @grackerzzz @nod4mnm3rcyy @loveinorion @ur-l0cal-crypt1d @inutrasha94 @cowaungabungabby @gravity-pilot @nyanahogini @rosiesluv @goochfiddler99 @torturedbabyapple @kiyadeleine

[sqgeism]

ive been reading too many domestic fics lately

sage...*gets on knees and bows head in utmost reverence*

domesticity with the amphoreus men. A NORMAL DAY IN THE LIFE. THERE'S TOO MUCH ANGST. MAKE THE PAIN GO AWAY I BEG OF THEE.

lots of love,

ri.

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 i don't wanna be the owner of your fantasy | amphoreus men x gender neutral reader

🍒 — ᥫ᭡ i just wanna be a part of your family . the world is kinder when i close my eyes and pretend all of it isn't on fire.

love mail — ⨾ hiii ri anaxa's #1 dove fr 👰‍♂️ i stopped writing vamp anaxa to LOCK IN. no more angst for oomfs.. only happiness 🧘‍♀️🧘‍♀️ (lying) rly quick sorry ri ily 🥀

anaxagoras isn't domestic.

he isn't domestic when he wakes up a little earlier than you, making sure to kiss your forehead before getting out of bed, moving the alarm you set to five more minutes since you don't want to get up too early.

surely, it isn't domestic when he makes you your preferred beverage in the morning—or a different breakfast each time for you to try. or when he had brought home your favorite snacks on the way home from the academy for you to eat later when he's gone. not at all, it's just all too sweet for the prickly professor.

and when he serves you breakfast in bed, turning off the alarm he had adjusted to instead wake you with loving kisses to your face, it isn't supposed to be interpreted as an intimate gesture, no way. "morning." anaxa whispers softly, the faintest smile gracing his lips as he watches your eyelids slowly flutter open. titan, your eyes had to be inspired by the finest of jewels when the gods were making you. simply gorgeous.

anaxa tries to make mornings as special as possible, knowing he'll be gone for hours once he walks through that door and comes home late again, to his dismay. he'd take care of you all throughout the day if he could.

don't.. don't call it domestic though.

it isn't.

anaxa will do anything but call it that </3

to say mydei yearned—that he ached and bled for this life—is an understatement.

titan forbid a man wants to scream about how much he loves his partner and the life they have together, that he loves waking up to you playing with his hair or tracing his marks. it's then followed by his home gym routine, and if you choose to join him or not—he hopes you at least stay.

if you do, he likes to talk about health and different routines he wants to try and if you're interested. if not, he likes it if you stick around and do your own thing. maybe read or some work? but stay close by, please, you're his motivation.

all meals are to be cooked by prince of castrum kremnos and prince of castum kremnos only, but if you'd like for takeout or a fancy restaurant (or he made plans), he's happy to do so! but cooking is a biiig love language for him, definitely used it to impress your friends and family. it makes him feel like a little boy getting praised whenever you tell him that your family wants him to cook something for them, he's just the happiest!

and kids, oh they're the dream. but he doesn't mean they have to be human kids, pets work too! they're basically kids, no? he just.. he wants to care for something, someone. he loves you so much but he also has so much love to give to the world too </3 agh hes such a sweetheart im sorry

he loves you because you're his last, he knows it. youre his heart and soul and he's surrendered every part of his being to you. his heartbeat is the same as your laughter and his eyes can only ever reflect you. he hopes he can give back even just a fraction of all the happiness you make him feel.

phainon is so painfully enamored with his domestic life he completely forgets he's supposed to be a warrior sometimes.

he thinks he's the luckiest man in the universe to see you when you just wake up, when you're still drowsy and trying to snuggle into his chest further, not wanting to get up.. an absolute goner. he's a 'weak' man (for you), all he needs is your sweet words to tell him to do something and he's all yours.

he likes it when you take care of him, considering how hard he works. phainon is a provider at heart but to be dote on is very very nice, who says no to kisses and sweet words from their angel anyway? absolutely not phainon. he'll HAPPILY take your attention away from the world, not like it needs it. the world has him, and he has you.

you're the one thing he doesn't have to share, to sacrifice (HOPEFULLY!!!!), and he doesn't ever want to lose sight of that fact. that no matter how much he goes through, he has someone waiting for him back at home. and they'll be expecting his arms around him before they sleep, whispering sweet nothings and look forward to waking up to have it all to themselves all over again.

and maybe that's why you two work so well together, the fact that you'll only ever be selfish with each other.

© sqgeism or wtv (^_^;)

[bunni-v1]

wellll since you are taking requests! Can I request Sylus, Caleb, and Zayne with a fem reader who's playful and loves to tease them in public but when their having sex, she's all shy and that?? <33 (I haven't requested something in such a long time, I forgot how this works 😭😭)

Don't Hide~

🍓Baby, you fucking know you can. My little MC is exactly like this, so thank you soooo much for allowing me to write her vicariously through this ask. I have sooo much fun with brat taming, you have no idea, I should write it wayyyyy more. Anyway, I really tried not to let my favoritism for Caleb show here, but he still has more than the other two. Sue me, I love my man.

TW: Intense eye contact in Caleb's; Brat taming; cat ears mentioned but not relevant in Sylus' part; Sylus is crazy big; teasing; softcore otherwise; editing/grammar errors (i am one college student)

Info: Sylus, Zayne, Caleb x Reader (Separate); NSFW

Word Count(s): Zayne (1.2k); Sylus (1.2k); Caleb (1.5k)

MDNI

ZAYNE

You loved to just push, didn't you? It was an annoyingly charming part of you, one that Zayne just adored in most situations. Playful poking and prodding was part of your daily routine, something he expected and honestly needed from you. If you weren't causing some kind of problem for him, you weren't doing well. He would rather you annoy him than see you sad and quiet.

Still, you really could get under his skin when you tried. Bonuses of knowing each other so well, he guessed. Even framing it like a positive was hard when you were trying your very best to get him to react.

Having your arms wrapped around him was a more than welcome experience in most cases. He loved it when you were so openly affectionate in public; it made him feel better about how badly he wanted to hold you, too. What he was not a fan of was the way your sneaky little hands seemed to be creeping lower and lower down his back. It was cute, at first. Easily mistaken as a comforting gesture when your fingers drew themselves back up after dipping just a little lower.

Yet, they didn't stop dipping a little lower. Each stroke got longer, went further down his back, until your fingers were dancing along the hem of his pants. If that weren't bad enough, you were doing it in front of a colleague of yours. Tara, you'd excitedly introduced. Chirping along happily together like two birds of a feather, like you weren't pushing your luck with each passing second. You knew that, though, didn't you?

He shoots you the subtlest look when your hand hovers over his behind, a warning. One, you do not heed, clamping your hand down and pinching his cheek with a Cheshire grin. And he squeaks, despite expecting it, the feeling still takes him off guard. Your grin only widens, especially when Tara blinks in surprise.

"Are you okay, Mr. Li?" She asks, befuddled at how such a stoic man could make such a noise.

He clears his throat, glancing at you, less subtly, "Fine. We should be going, though."

"Aww," you and Tara pout at the same time, though yours is far less genuine than hers.

"Well, it was nice to see you. Have fun with the rest of your day!" She waves, skipping away, oblivious to the tension between you.

Zayne lets out a deep and heavy breath, annoyance leaving him all at once. His eyes zero in on your smirking face, expression even despite the intent clouding his green eyes. He tugs your hand away, wrapping it around his waist in a firm grip so you don't do the same thing again.

"You can't behave for a second, can you?" He sighs.

Another self-satisfied smirk, "It's not my fault you have such a cute butt! It's just begging me to grab it."

He hums, pulling you along with him without another word. He can feel the excitement rolling off you in waves, practically leaping and bounding at his side to get home. How obnoxiously adorable. Your ability to manipulate him into giving you what you want was admirable; he'll give you that. Besides, it's not as though he'd be the one feeling embarrassed by the end of the night, so he'd let you have your little victories.

--

He'd had you on your knees before the front door could even fully close. Shaky hands struggling with his belt, fumbling futilely a few times before finally wriggling it out enough to unzip his pants and slide his member out. It bobs uselessly in front of your mouth, begging for some semblance of friction. Naturally, as if magnetically attracted, you lean forward to take him into your mouth.

A firm hand stops you before you can, making your face scrunch up in confusion, fluttering up to his. The intensity in his eyes is enough to burn you up from the inside, heated and full of intent. You look away quickly, trying to ignore the heat searing beneath your skin. He doesn't allow you to run, gripping your chin and bringing your eyes back to him.

"Use your hands," He commands, "and look at me. Understood."

You nod, letting out a shaky breath. Not good enough.

"Words."

You swallow, "Yes, Zayne."

The grip on your chin softens, stroking the skin there as if apologizing for the roughness, "Good."

Your shaky hands come up, spitting on them for lubricant, then carefully wrap around his cock. Gentle, easy, practiced. You know what he likes, slow and easy. You watch the way your hands glide along his shaft, smiling when the sticky pre-cum coats your fingers. So pretty.

He clears his throat, and you correct your mistake like you've been Pavloved. Looking up at his flushed face, chest heaving, and body, eyes watching your every move. Nervousness tends to build up in your chest when he looks at you like that. No walls or hidden meaning, just sheer desire. You want to hide away from it, but you know he won't let you. All you can do is swallow the ever-growing lump in your throat and let your face burn hotter and hotter.

You watch his Adam's apple bob in his throat, rubbing your thighs together to alleviate some of the need between your legs. It's useless, as expected, and only serves to make you feel more pathetic. You don't stop, though, obediently tugging his member at an even pace. His breath grows more shaky with each stroke, mouth slightly ajar and puffing the hot air out unevenly. Much prettier.

His fingers trace along your chin, down the sensitive column of your neck, and back up again. Mirroring your movements from earlier, giving you a taste of your own medicine. It makes you shy away a little, flinching back when they dip between your collarbones. He spreads them out as he comes back up, pausing in the center of your throat and giving the smallest press, prompting you to swallow against them. He shudders when you do, having to use the door to keep himself upright.

He was close, so close. It made you want to speed up, but you don't. Not unless he tells you to.

"Are you sorry?" He suddenly asks, low and gravely, like it was hard to get out in the first place.

You bite your lip, shrinking into yourself as you mumble, "'m sorry..."

"Clearly," he commands, "or else I'll make you stop right now."

You jolt, shaking your head adamantly, "I-I'm sorry. I am! I promise, please?"

He scoffs a laugh, "Brat... open your mouth, now."

You comply, sticking your tongue out, and within a few moments, he's spurting out onto it. You lap up his release obediently, never breaking eye contact, no matter how much it drives you insane. The hand on your chin comes up to pet your hair, a silent praise for your good work.

"Did you learn your lesson?" He asks lowly, scratching your scalp gently.

You nod, proud to please. It's cute. Really cute. But he's not quite satisfied. With a low hum, he helps you off your knees, nudging you through the house on a straight path to the bedroom.

"Why don't we test that theory, then?" He whispers, a promise that you were in for a long night of behavioral correction.

SYLUS

Sylus was a tease at heart, always pushing your buttons and getting on your nerves with little to no effort at all. He'd admitted to you on more than one occasion that he found your feisty reactions positively adorable. You were his little kitten, after all, what kind of man would he be if he didn't get you swatting your claws at him?

However, teasing him was a difficult endeavor. One that you'd become an expert in. See, you couldn't just whisper sweet nothings into his ear or draw your hands along him sensually. He didn't react to that; he found it more funny than alluring. Calling you needy, which you weren't. No, if you wanted to get something out of him you had to be smarter than just sheer sex appeal.

You had to be cute.

Not so cute that you came off as childish and stupid, he would catch on to things too fast and ruin your fun. Just cute enough that it would get his heart racing, make him pause, and take a second to admire you. When he did that, you knew you got what you wanted.

Which is why you were walking hand in hand with him now, swinging your arm just slightly between your bodies. You were in some expensive shopping district, looking around for something to wear for a mission you were assigned to. He'd insisted on buying you a dress when you'd mentioned it offhand. Who were you to deny him the privilege of seeing you spin around in glittering dresses like a teenager picking out a prom dress?

You'd gotten a bit... off track, though. Purposefully, of course, not that he needed to know that. Excitedly bounding from shop window to shop window, gazing in at the silly souvenirs and cute little stuffed animals like a kid on Christmas. Sylus allowed you to tug him around, a soft smile on his face as you rambled about how cute that little teddy bear is, then in the same breath refused to let him buy it for you.

You stopped short when you came across a little standee outside of a costume shop, laughing at its contents. Cat ears of various types hung on the little turnstile, the perfect killer. You bounded up to it, scanning across the different types before plucking two off the rack. You turn back to Sylus then, a giddy smile as you show him your little treasure, lifting it up with pride.

He leans down without another word, letting you set the white pair on his head. His eyes softening when you clap your hands. You know you've got him right where you want him. You just needed the finishing blow. You set the second pair on your head, pointing your chin to the sky like a proud lion.

He smirks at the sight, petting your head like he would a regular cat, "Aren't you cute?"

You bite your lip, going in for the throat, "Now I really am your kitten, huh?"

He pauses, visibly processing your words and realizing just what you were up to. A scoff tumbles out of his mouth, eyes rolling from the sheer idiocy. He'd fallen for your cutesy little antics, again, just like he always did. Steady fingers grip your chin, forcing you to keep your eyes settled on him.

"I wasn't aware she was so prone to misbehavior. Tell me, are you looking for punishment, kitten?" He purrs lowly.

Mission successful, "I'dunno what you mean, Sy..."

--

Riding Sylus always felt impossible thanks to his incredible size. You always managed to fit it, but it was more than just a little fight. This is what you asked for, though. Your little cry for attention earlier rewarded with a brand new pair of cat ears, and Sylus’ lazy smirk as you struggled to adjust to him.

Your hands weakly kneaded at his chest, trying to ground yourself from the intensity of the stretch. He merely watched you, red eyes drawing across your figure slow and steady, pleased to have you on display for him. His calloused hands rested at your waist, thumbing over the skin there in approval as you settled down.

It was impossible to hide from him like this, making the burning sensation across your body all the more apparent. You just couldn’t help but be embarrassed at the way he seemed to drink you in, savoring you with every sense at his disposal. You were sure he had a secret sixth one made just to relish in your humiliation. Yet, he does not say a word to shame you or make you feel less than. Just watches and appreciates you as you are.

Somehow, that was worse than degradation, melting your mind to a mushy pile of nervousness.

Still, you’d practically begged for this, and as always Sylus had given it to you as you wished. You wouldn’t want to disappoint both of you, so you took a deep breath and began rolling your hips. Slow little circles at first. Unsure, but gradually building as you grew more comfortable in your place on top of him.

Each movement set your nerves alight, sending shocks of pleasure across each inch of your skin. The heat building in your core, spanning across every nook and cranny of your body, wrapping you in a blanket of warm pleasure. Sylus seems to track it with his eyes, drawing up from the sensual roll of your hips, to the way your muscles tense, across your bouncing tits, and landing on your scrunched up little face.

You could practically hear him purring — no, he was purring. A low grumble shaking his chest, traveling through your trembling fingertips and sending the signals directly to the heat between your legs. To be admired so much was just too much for you to handle right now.

You lean over him, tucking your face into his shoulder. It’s a weak attempt to hide at best, not that you’d be able to hide no matter what you did, but you make it all too easy for him to pull you up with a gentleness that seemed too loving for the moment. All too Sylus as he eased your pouting visage back into his line of sight.

“Running away already?” He coos, fingers massaging your neck as if placating you.

You’re far too embarrassed to argue with him, so you just nod, “It’s too much.”

He hums, mocking thought as he takes in your weak excuses. You’re far too cute for him to know what to do with, but he would figure it out, “Do you need my help, kitten?”

In the second of clarity you have, you debate telling him no. Yet, he twitches inside of you when you open your eyes to take in his all consuming stare, and the thought evaporates from your mind. You do need his help, very badly. You’ll probably burn alive between the scorching pleasure and his fiery gaze without him there to placate the flames.

You give him a weak little teary eyed nod, and he eases your face back into his shoulder. He was always so accommodating with you, so gentle and loving that it made your stomach tie into knots. Only forgetting the feeling when he helped to work you along his length, humming sweet words of praise into your ears, letting you hide away from him all you wanted. That’s what you wanted after all, right?

CALEB

Teasing Caleb was an art form that only you had mastered. You would think that after knowing someone for so long, it would be easy to rile them up. Yet, Caleb was the most controlled man you had ever met when it came to handling your light-hearted jabs. Part of it was thanks to how well he knew you, but the other part was simply because he was good at ignoring his own feelings. He could push and push and push them down to the depths of his mind until they were practically non-existent, and your teasing was no different.

The most you'd get for your efforts was a smirk, maybe a ruffle of your hair as he scolds you, and if you were really annoying, he would chase you around the house and tickle you for your crimes. Rarely was it anything more intense than that.

Rarely. Not never.

There was one way to get Caleb hot and bothered enough to do something, and that was your favorite game of all time: Look, don't touch. It was fun to see just how far you could get, doing all his favorite things with an air of innocence, just to see how long it would take to get him to crack.

Your personal favorite method of torture was to find a shirt of his - dirty, preferably - slide it on and walk around the house with nothing but it and a lacy pair of red panties. (His favorite, judging from how often they go missing from the laundry.) It's a long game you have to play, because winning against Caleb's disciplined ability to pretend was always a long game. Luckily, you were just about the one weakness in his mental fortitude.

You start in the morning before he leaves for work, or else it won't work. If he's at home all day, he'll just take care of it without thought. You walk out of the room, and his eyes catch on your legs. They rake over the exposed skin like trying to burn it into his memory, as if he hadn't done that a million times before. Then, like clockwork, he realizes what he's doing and tries to look anywhere but you as you waltz around. Knowing he has a responsibility that he can't skimp on, even for you, keeps him stiff and robotic as you kiss him goodbye.

Then, step two kicks in: text him frequently. Keeping yourself at the forefront of his mind (which you always are, mind you) and letting him know you're thinking of him makes him squirm in a way that's unbefitting of a soldier. He can't stop himself from thinking about your legs, the way his shirt rested against your body, and what was beneath it. Waiting, begging him to get a peek as you stretched your arms over your head. His eye twitches when you send him yet another suspiciously worded text - never incriminating, but always implicative.

Then, when his shift is nearly over, when you spent your whole day playing coy, you reach the final phase of your plan. You send pictures. Nothing explicit. That would ruin the fun of it all. Just cute, mundane tasks. A downward angle of you cooking dinner, reading a book on his bed, or maybe just a picture of a movie you're watching with your bare legs in view. All visual reminders of what he left at home, all reminders of why he needs to get back now.

--

Normally, Caleb prefers you to tell him what you like in bed. He's soft, attentive, a little sloppy, but entirely obsessed with your pleasure. It's not as though he's neglecting that part of himself, quite the opposite, actually. You were the one who had made it abundantly clear that you wanted- needed him to put you in your place. He knows your little games, he knows you like no other person on the planet - in the galaxy, hell, the entire universe.

So, of course, he knew you wanted him to fold you in half and show you what happens to misbehaving, teasing little pipsqueaks like yourself for all your efforts. Who was he to deny you of what you'd been begging for all day? Wouldn't that make him a bad Caleb? It almost means that the way he makes you look at him, knowing full well that the eye contact sends you into a flurry of embarrassment. He's just so... intense, in every sense of the word, especially when he's having sex with you.

One leg bent up to your head, the other wrapped around his waist, and two strong arms boxing your head had you surrounded. Chest to chest, buried to the hilt, there was no escaping the little prison of pleasure Caleb had built for you. Your reward equaled your punishment, and you wished you could complain, but you knew your voice would catch in your throat and Caleb would tease you for it. You had no choice but to sit there and look up at him, hoping he'd be a little nicer than you were to him today.

His eyes are hot as they trace along the planes of your face, eating up the sight like his last meal on earth. The subtle shift in his expression as you squeeze around him, feeling the intensity of his gaze far more deeply than you'd ever admit out loud. His eyebrows twitch up in surprise, before a lazy smirk crawls over his face, leaning down to kiss along the apple of your cheek to the shell of your ear.

"Y'know," He starts in a low drawl, sending your head spinning, "If you want me to take care of you, you can just ask."

You shake your head, though there isn't a real purpose for it. You're just a little too flustered to think right when he's got you like this. His dominance really is something all-consuming, and it reminds you why you don't tease him like this often. You would be a dead man if you had to put up with his relentlessness every time you had sex.

"No?" He asks, as if he's confused, but the condescension in his voice gives him away.

He adjusts himself slightly, rubbing against your walls just enough to get you to tremble a little. Then, all at once, he pulls himself out to the tip and pushes his way back inside in a fluid motion, "You don't want me to do that? Then tell me what you need, won't you?"

You whimper, tossing your arms on your face like that might help you here. Nearly forgetting how easily he overpowers you in your hazy headspace until he seamlessly pulls your hands over your head, interlacing your fingers as if they belonged together.

"No, no, no. None of that, you gotta look at me, 'kay?" He hums so sickeningly sweet it makes you want to swing at him.

A whine tears through your throat, tossing your head to the side to bury into his arm. Defiant and bratty to the end, as always. He huffs out a laugh that's all too affectionate for how annoying he was being, then chases your face with his own. You feel the warm press of his sweat-slicked forehead against yours, heated breath fanning over your face. You don't budge, not even when he nudges your nose with his own as encouragement.

He's reaching the end of his limited patience; you can feel it in the way his fingers tremble around your wrists. He could hold back all day when you weren't physically near him, but he was inside you for god's sake. Any man - well trained soldier or not - would collapse under the extreme pressure of a nice warm pussy. Your nice warm pussy was simply one of the greatest weaknesses he had, second only to your oh so pretty eyes he was being deprived of right now.

"Pips," He whines, voice uncharacteristically squeaky, "Lemme see your pretty eyes, yeah?"

You curl your hands into tight fists, trying and failing to fight him off one last time. A little voice in your mind reminds you of how mean you were to him today. Listen to his voice, he needs you just as bad as you need him. It's okay to give in, Caleb will take care of everything, it whispers so sweetly. You can't refuse its logic, not when it seems so totally right as he twitches inside you again.

You slowly peel your eyes open, nearly jumping at the way he's staring so intently at you. Brows worried, lip caught between his teeth, and pretty purple eyes darting across your face. You expect some kind of comment from him, some words of praise or thanks, but all you get is his hips pulling back and slamming back into you. It gets your toes curling instantaneously, a moan ripping from your vocal cords in surprise.

You shouldn't be, though. This is what you wanted. Caleb was just giving it to you. He would always give it to you.

[mydearzero]

Unstoppable Force | Omegaverse Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x fem!Reader

Summary: He hadn't had his rut in YEARS. You took suppressants. Some manipulation from Val made sure both those things would change.

Contents: SMUT, mild dubcon, Omegaverse, fem!reader, Alpha!Bob, Omega!Reader, No Y/N, thunderbolts!reader, penetrative sex (p in v), breeding, designations aren't obvious until rut/heat, creampie, light possessiveness, if I missed any tags let me know!

WC: 4.6K

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Masterlist

A/N: I still have Bob brainrot and was thinking about a A/B/O fic and couldn't find any so I wrote it. I've never written A/B/O before so yeah do with that what you will. had to hold myself back from using the phrase 'lost in the sauce' so be glad that's not in the middle of the smut y'all

“I’m not sure I understand,” you let Valentina know. “How is this going to improve my fighting?” She took back the folder she’d slid to you across the table. 

“It’s just some testing, nothing more. Now if you’ll just come with me, I’ll go get us some more drinks. We’ll discuss the details later.” Val said as she picked up the cup she’d handed you earlier. Whatever it had been, it had been sweeter than you preferred. 

“I’m good, thanks. Where are we going?” You politely declined another drink. You walked through a hallway with no windows, no doors, except for the one all the way at the end. Val entered a code into the keypad and held the door open. 

“Just wait in here, I’ll be right back.” 

Your eyebrows raised when you walked into the room. It looked nothing like a meeting room, or a laboratory, for that matter. A large mirror was hung on the back wall. The door closed behind you suddenly. The echo startled you out of your focused assessment of the room. A door on the other side opened, and the hairs on the back of your neck immediately stood up. 

Alpha. 

The smell was blinding, almost making you want to hunch in on yourself. It was natural for it to overtake all of your thoughts, yet it surprised you how much it made you pause in your tracks. Whoever it was smelled phenomenal. You slowly backed away, making sure that whatever you did, you didn’t run. Your back met with the door and you grasped for the handle blindly, twisting it, only to find it locked. You cannot be serious. 

“Val?!” You questioned loudly, sure by now the room was being surveilled. She’d tricked you. To do what, you weren’t sure yet. You shouldn’t have trusted her. Shouldn’t have let your guard down, even for a second. 

Your eyes finally caught what your nose had already told you, hunched in the doorway. Bob? He wasn’t an Alpha, right? He was a Beta, Yelena had told you herself. Was there someone else behind him? There must be. You tried to look around him, but suddenly his frame looked broader than you’d ever recalled it being. 

“Bob? What’s going on?” You questioned. His eyes snapped to yours. He looked just as alarmed to see you as you felt. 

“You can’t be serious!” Bob yelled out to nobody in particular, banging on the door that had closed behind him, presumably also locked. “You can’t do this to her!” 

His breathing was irregular as he spoke your name. “You need to stay back. Just– Just stay there, on that side of the room. I’ll stay here and we’ll wait it out.” He hunched in on himself and crouched into the corner furthest from you, behind a lavish bed. 

This wasn’t research. You still didn’t understand what Val was up to, but this couldn’t be good. 

“Bob, please tell me what we’re doing in here,” you pleaded softly, though you did as he said and followed his example, hunching in the opposite corner. 

“They can’t do this to you,” he mumbled. “It’s not fair.” 

“You’re scaring me,” you whispered. He scoffed a laugh. 

“Good. You should be,” he refused to look at you, turning his face into the wall. All this time, the looming scent of Alpha hadn’t left the room. It was messing with your ability to think. 

“You’re a Beta, right?” You searched for any change in his body language for an answer. His spine stiffened. 

“... Right?” You begged. You already knew the answer. All these months in the tower, it had somehow slipped past all of you that Bob was, in fact, an Alpha. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “This– It wasn’t supposed to happen. I didn’t know you’d be here!” 

“What is this place?” You looked around the room, trying to spot a way out. It was hard to think critically when every nerve in your body was starting to scream at you to go over to Bob.

“It’s… hard to explain. Just… Stop talking, please,” he cupped his hands over his ears. 

“I’ll stop talking when I understand what the hell is going on!” You were getting frustrated with him. You were scared. Your stomach turned as your fingers began to tingle. You brought your hands up to your lips, remembering the drink Valentina had given you. She hadn’t drank any herself. Fuck, how could you be that stupid? 

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he repeated. 

“What wasn’t supposed to happen, Bob?” He gasped softly at the mention of his name. 

“Don’t– Don’t say that. Don’t say my name.” He demanded. You raised your hands in mock defense. 

“You have to understand,” he started. “They said they were going to help me. They promised.” He averted his attention from the wall to the ceiling. 

“This is cruel!” He yelled at the ceiling. “You don’t know what’s gonna happen! What I– What he might do to her!” Did he? Did he know what was going to happen? He obviously knew something, knew more than you.

You saw him slump against the wall, roughly hitting his head against it. He turned, finally making eye contact. You drew in a sharp breath. His eyes were flickering gold, the way they only did when he was using his powers. This wasn’t right. He had been working on controlling it for months now. 

“It’s been years. They– They said they’d help me,” he ran a shaky hand over his face, laughing at his own past stupidity. “I should’ve known they’d pull something like this.” 

“You have to tell me what’s happening. Fucking spit it out already,” you demanded. 

“I haven’t had a rut in over 15 years,” Bob informed you. “But I’m having my first one right now.” 

Fuck. 

No no no no no no no no no NO– 

“You– Right now?” 

“Right now.” Bob nodded. 

You had to get out of here. It’s not that you didn’t want Bob. Quite the opposite, actually. But he wasn’t going to be in his right mind. God, you should’ve known the second you smelled an Alpha that you were in trouble. Actually smelling someone’s designation could only mean two things; either they were experiencing very extreme emotions, or they were nearing a rut/heat. You couldn’t think about the smell. Couldn’t let it get to you, or it would trigger your heat. 

“I’m assuming you’re an Omega?” Bob distracted you from your thoughts. 

“Yeah… I didn’t think it mattered!” You cried. “I’ve been on suppressants for forever. I haven’t had my heat in like… God, 5 years? Maybe 6? Val said they were just going to do some testing with my new suit… I should never have trusted her.” 

“I think I’m going insane,” Bob laughed maniacally. “It’s like I can smell you. But that’s impossible if you’re taking suppressants.” 

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that, actually,” you winced. “She gave me a drink. Didn’t think anything of it because apparently I’m an idiot.” 

“She spiked it with something?” His breathing was getting more and more laboured. He was realizing by now that you had been set up, too. This was all an elaborate scheme. 

You shrugged. “I guess we’ll be finding out real soon if she did, and with what.” 

Bob turned his back to you, back facing the wall. You could tell from the heaving of his shoulders that he was breathing heavily. He was trying his best to stay in control. 

You, too, felt like you were slowly but surely losing your mind. Whatever Val had given you was working fast. You could feel sweat build up on the back of your neck. You were tempted to take off your clothes, but were sure that wouldn’t exactly make the situation any easier for Bob. You could deal with the temperature, as long as he stayed away and didn’t trigger your heat. 

It had been so long you’d had one, and even when you did, you’d never spent it with an Alpha. A rutting Alpha? Even better. No. Don’t think about that. Don’t think about his rut. Don’t think about what he could be thinking about. Don’t think about what he could do to you. Don’t think about his knot. 

Shit. 

You were definitely thinking about his knot, now. 

So what if you’d been harbouring a secret crush on him for months? It had been harmless, up until now. He was relying on you to control yourself, and you were messing that part up real fast. 

The temperature was rising quickly. The room was too small for an Alpha experiencing his rut, especially with an unmated Omega so nearby. You untied your shoes, trying to find the best way to cool down without setting him off. You put your socks in your shoes. It helped for about 0.3 seconds. 

A familiar feeling was starting to build in your stomach. It wasn’t discomfort, exactly. Dissatisfaction. An itch. A need. 

You tried to hold it in. You really did. His scent was so overwhelming. That combined with the fact that your system had been flushed clear of all suppressants for the first time in years? You were fucked. 

A soft whisper of your name rang from the other side of the room. It sent a shiver up your spine. You understood, now, why he’d begged you not to say his name. It was like he was speaking directly to the part of you that was holding up your reserve, and crumbling it. 

“Hmm?” You acknowledged painfully. 

“How… How are you feeling?” Bob asked quietly. He’d likely smelled it already. The desperation. His rut had triggered your heat. Neither of you were going to be able to hold back. 

“Like I’m slowly burning from the inside, but other than that, peachy,” you replied sarcastically, bringing your hand to your forehead to wipe away the beads of sweat. 

“I don’t know– I don’t know how much longer I can control this. It’s been so long…” He didn’t dare turn around. Maybe you should turn your back to him, too. Maybe then it was easier to keep your mind off him. You decided to give it a try. The second you tore your eyes off him, you felt a dire need to put them back on him. You resisted, for now. 

You heard the ruffling of fabric. You were so tempted to turn around. The heat was getting to him. He’d taken off his sweater and let out a small sigh of relief. It sounded downright pornographic, though you were sure any sound he made at this point would sound like that to your ears. 

You decided that, since neither of you were looking, it couldn’t hurt to take your shirt off as well. You grabbed it by the hem and lifted it over your head, leaving you in your bra and pants. The air was a lot colder, bringing goosebumps and relief to your skin. You discarded the shirt somewhere behind you. 

The smallest of whimpers escaped your lips. It was really starting now. A trickle of slick escaped your core, and you knew he could smell it. Your senses were overwhelming you, telling you to rip all your (and his) clothes off and just get it over with. You couldn’t give in. Not with whatever Val had been planning to happen. 

“Bob?” He moaned obscenely at the mention of his name. He acknowledged your questioning tone with a small groan. 

“I– I just think I should tell you something, before…” you didn’t have to finish the sentence. 

“What is it?” He grunted. The sound of a zipper opening made you freeze in your tracks. Was he…? 

“I– these last few months… I just– I’m not sure how to say this,” you started. You just wanted to reassure him it was okay if he broke. You wanted him, regardless. It was okay to lose control. You knew he’d already smelled your pussy from across the room, yet still felt like a schoolgirl about to admit her crush. 

“It’s okay… If you, y’know. I– I like you, Bob,” more rustling from the other side of the room. You were fighting with every fibre in your body not to turn around. 

“You’re just saying that,” he gasped out. “Because of the– the heat.” You could hear him moving. The sound was slick, though ever so silently. He was touching himself. 

“I’m not! I like you. I do,” you were squirming, trying to find a position that would alleviate the building pressure in your abdomen. You rolled your shoulders, the tension in your neck was killing you. All you wanted to do is throw your head back and expose your neck for him. 

The slick movement was increasing in speed. He sounded delicious, even though he was obviously trying to contain all the small moans and whimpers. Whether it was to spare you the need or himself the embarrassment, you were unsure. 

“Are you,” you bit your lip. “Are you touching yourself?” 

“Yeah,” he groaned out. “‘M sorry… I can’t– It’s, fuck, just– Stop talking.” 

“It’s okay,” you were surprised by the sensual tone of your voice, barely above a whisper. 

“Stop. Talking,” you could tell he was close. His laboured breath was something you wished to feel against your skin. You slowly snuck a hand into your waistband, no longer able to control yourself. You gasped when your finger made contact with your clit. 

“Fuck, no, are you? Oh fuck,” Bob immediately groaned loudly, immediately coming at the thought of you touching yourself to the sound of him doing the same. He held the base of his cock tightly, refusing to pop a knot right then and there. Coming inside of his boxers was bad enough. 

You took your pants off, no longer content with it limiting your range of movement. Had all your previous heats felt like this? You couldn’t remember ever feeling this out of control, this insane. Fucking hell, you could smell his cum. He really wasn’t helping the situation right now. 

“Do you feel better?” You asked. An orgasm usually helped keep the hormones at bay, even if it was only for a few minutes. 

“No, I hoped I would but I–” He clenched his teeth tightly. You circled your clit with two fingers, willing your hips to keep still as to not obscenely go and fuck your own hand. 

You knew you made a mistake the second your resolve broke and you sent a glance over your shoulder to look at him. He’d been able to control his need to turn around, still facing the wall. It didn’t matter. His sweaty, naked form, heaving from his orgasm, was enough to enthrall you. He instantly noticed you’d gone silent. Worried for your wellbeing, he slowly turned around, meeting your hungry gaze. 

Something snapped. He flung his head against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut. The force had cracked the concrete on impact. He groaned loudly, every muscle straining, fighting to keep his hands off you. Your parted lips, wide eyes, undressed form, it was his undoing. 

The sight of him losing control was enough to send you over the edge. A high pitched whine escaped your lips, your toes curling. His eyes snapped open, lips parting at the display. He was on your body before either of you could blink. His powers were taking over. He pinned your arms above your head, to the floor. While you were only in your underwear, his pants had yet to leave his body. 

“I’m sorry it has to be like this,” he spoke, scanning your face. 

“It’s okay,” you reassured him again, trying to wiggle out of his hold. “I want you. Wanted you long before today.” 

He released your wrists and brought a hand to your cheek, softly caressing it and taking you in for a moment. He couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe you wanted him. 

“I’m not gonna be able to stop,” Bob confessed. You flung your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. You leaned into his ear to speak, feeling his hot breath on your neck. 

“Then don’t.” 

It was enough. He kissed you hungrily, bringing your body as close to his as it could go. He tasted every bit as good as he smelled. His hands made quick work of your bra and underwear. Your head whirled as your back suddenly met the soft mattress. His powers. He was so fast. So strong. The bed swallowed you. 

He was biting at your lips, nipping at the skin of your jaw. The only way you could explain it was feral. You put your hands on the waistband of his jeans, tugging them down. The zipper was still open from his previous endeavours.  “Off,” you demanded between kisses. He shimmied them off while maintaining contact with his mouth to your skin at all times. 

“Never would’ve guessed,” you breathed as he worked his mouth down your chest, taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking harshly. “–that you were an Alpha.” 

“What, I’m not imposing enough?” He laughed, making eye contact and switching to the other nipple. There was a big, noticeable wet patch in his underwear from where he’d come in them before. He quickly shimmied out of those, too. His cock slammed up against his abdomen, already hard again and ready to go. God, he was big. 

“Hmmm, you’re too sweet,” you told him. It was true. He always made an extra cup of tea so you could have one. Did the laundry for the others. Made sure everybody’s favourite snacks were at the tower at all times. He was just so thoughtful. 

“Wanna take care of you,” he came back up, having spent enough attention on your breasts, for now. “Is that not an Alpha thing?” 

“Now that you mention it…” He did have a point. An Alpha took care of their people. All the things he did so the team was at their best was exactly that. You tugged him back down to smash your lips against his again. You could spend eternity like this. You were going to get addicted to kissing him. 

You trailed your hands down his chest, over his tight abdomen. “Can’t even begin to tell you how hot I think you are,” you informed him. His eyebrows shot up. 

“Really?” He started kissing dangerously close to your mating glands. The feeling of anticipation was killing you. You craned your neck to the side instinctively, giving him more access. The feeling burned, in a good way. 

A new wave of desperation washed over you. It was starting to hurt, your eyes blurring with tears as you tried to work through the burn. Bob noticed something was off, pulling away for a second to check on you. While noble, it only made the feeling worse. 

“You okay?” He asked, eyes scanning your face for any discomfort. Like a good Alpha. 

“It– It hurts, Bob,” you whined. “Please, make it stop.” 

“I’ll make it stop. I’ll help you, baby,” he whispered, bending back down to suck a hickey over your mating gland. A promise. He ground his hips down, sliding his cock between your wet folds. The contact made both of you moan. Bob’s jaw fell slack as he closed his eyes, throwing his head back. 

“Fuck me, Bob,” you put your hands on his shoulders. “Need you inside of me.” 

“Look so good like this,” Bob mumbled as he took his length in his hand, lining himself up with your entrance. You prepared yourself mentally for the stretch. He shuddered as he slowly pushed his tip inside, spreading you open. It notched inside and he paused for a second, checking to see if you were okay. 

You were more than okay, lost in your heat, desperate to get him deeper. You gave him a small nod, signalling for him to please continue pushing inside. The stretch felt amazing. If you had ever doubted his Alpha status, the feeling of his girth inside you would’ve changed your mind. You were so full. He still wasn’t all the way inside, going torturously slow. 

When he finally bottomed out, you stopped breathing. Bob’s eyes snapped closed, mouth agape as the pleasure of feeling you around him overtook his senses. A sense of satisfaction settled in your body. The fact you were finally giving in, finally letting yourself be filled by an Alpha during your heat, was a taste of something you wouldn’t ever get enough of. You almost felt complete. There were only 2 things missing;

A knot, and his teeth biting your neck. 

“M-move, now,” you demanded. He obliged, dragging his hips back gently. When he snapped them forward again, you couldn’t hold back a moan. 

“That’s it,” Bob nuzzled your neck, pulling his cock out and snapping forward faster this time. Your exorbitant amount of slick made the slide much easier. If this would become a recurring thing, you weren’t sure you’d even be able to take him outside of your heat. 

“Gonna make you mine,” he groaned. “Nobody else can have you.” Another gleam of gold flashed through his eyes. God, you sure hoped Val was prepared for Sentry to make an appearance, because it was looking like that might be the case by the end of this.

“Already yours,” you sighed. “Always have been.” 

“Say it again,” he pleaded. “Say you’re mine.” 

He probably hadn’t intended for it to be an Alpha command. It had just slipped out. 

“I’m yours– All yours. Only you,” you whimpered out, unable to resist the command even if you’d wanted to. It had sent a new rush of heat spreading through your body. A newfound sense of need settled in your very being. You needed him closer, deeper, anything. You’d crawl into his skin if it were possible. 

You knew he felt it too, what the Alpha command had done to you. You’d tightened around him, clenching his cock tightly. A mischievous expression took over his face. His balls slapped against your cunt as he finally started fucking you the way you needed. Hard. Frantic. Feral. 

“Fuck, Bob!” You keened. He’d found that spot. You dug your nails into his back, desperate to keep him going exactly like that. “Don’t stop.” 

“So good for me,” Bob moaned. The way he chanted your name like a prayer was obscene. “All mine.” 

He dropped his head to your chest, taking a nipple in his mouth and tonguing around it. He kneaded your other boob with his hand, rough enough to sting, but so, so good. 

“So pretty,” he babbled. He was losing his sanity to his rut. “You smell so good.” He was nuzzling your neck again, inhaling your scent deeply, committing it to his permanent memory. 

“It’s like you were made for me. So tight. Perfect fit,” Bob mused. You could feel it, too. The way he filled you exactly to the brim. Stretched you out just enough for you to feel so, so full. 

He pounded into you, but it wasn’t enough. “More, Alpha. Please,” you begged. Bob lost all sense of control at the title. 

“Such a good Omega for me,” he grazed his teeth over your mating gland. It sent your head reeling, dizzy with pleasure. 

“Please.” What you were begging for, you didn’t know. 

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Bob whispered with haggard breaths. He brushed your hair out of your face, cradling it in his hands as he continued his brutal pace, chasing both of your highs. 

You knew you were getting close, the knot in your stomach tightening. Bob grabbed your hips tight, snapping his hips forward. You were sure there’d be finger shaped bruises all over your body by morning, but you couldn’t find yourself to care. 

One of his hands worked itself between your bodies, seeking contact with your clit. Your head slammed back against the pillow, eyes rolling to the back of your skull. Holy shit. 

“Ah, Bob- fuck, oh-” you sought anything to hold onto, settling on the sheets underneath your body. Your knuckles turned white as you held on tightly. Your jaw fell slack at the sensation. He was trying to make you come, and he was succeeding. 

“Come for me, O-Omega,” he moaned loudly. “Ah- Come on my cock.” His voice was faltering with the sheer effort he was putting into fucking you right. He was mesmerised at the sight of your tits bouncing wildly with the rhythm and force of his hips pounding into yours.

“Knot me,” you begged. You needed it. Needed it right now.

“‘F course I’ll knot you,” Bob reassured you. “Gonna fuck my cum inside you. Fill you up real good.” 

“Fuck, please.” The thought of him filling you up to the brim drove you insane with lust. “Alpha, please, knot me, knot me.” 

“So good for me, baby. Come for me,” his fingers sped up, circling your clit in tandem with his thrust. His hips were starting to falter, he was getting close. A tear rolled down the side of your face at the intensity. 

He bent down and bit down on your neck, exactly where you needed him to. You were screaming out his name, gripping his shoulders tight as you came on his cock. You shuddered, body tightening with your orgasm. Your vision went white as the bond settled in and connected your very being to him. Mates. 

Bob groaned loudly as his hips stuttered, filling you up with his cum. You could feel the base of his cock swell, stretching your entrance and locking you together. He ground his hips, now unable to pull out, but desperate to keep fucking more cum inside of you. 

He finally slumped over you, exhausted from the strain it had taken. He rolled over and pulled you on top of him. He placed a few soft kisses on your new mating mark. For a second, you rested just like that, still connected, chests heaving with deep breaths. Your mind was clearing of the fog brought on by the heat. 

“I’m sorry,” Bob whispered, stroking your hair softly as you laid your head on his chest. 

“Don’t be,” you picked your head up, looking him in the eyes. “I loved every second of it.” 

“I did too,” Bob smiled, but then it faltered. “I’m just… Valentina…” Right. That was the whole reason you’d ended up in this situation. 

“She’s probably looking for a way to replicate whatever they’ve done to you. Maybe she wants super babies,” you sighed. It was the only explanation you could think of. You felt his cock twitch inside you, making you gasp as another light spurt of cum came out of it. 

“Don’t– Don’t talk about us having babies while I’m still inside of you.” You laughed and clenched around him intentionally, making him hiss and throw his head back. 

The doors audibly unlocked, then. Bob quickly threw a blanket over your connected bodies. 

“Well, are you going to thank me, or what?” It was Val. Of course it was. 

“You better get the fuck out and leave us alone if you know what’s good for you,” Bob threatened. 

“Don’t say I’ve never done anything for you,” she grumbled, walking back out and closing the door behind her. 

“I’m gonna kill her,” you grumbled, laying your head back on his chest and drawing tracing shapes on his chest. 

“I’ll help you,” Bob agreed. You hated her, but at least you’d gotten a mate out of it. 

[cathnospam]

When Bakugo is mad at you he pouts and stares.

Bakugo is kind of a brat, now that you think about it.

He never admits his anger he just waits for you to point it out. But unluckily for him you don’t and he always is the one to falter first.

You’re fresh out the shower and he’s laying on your bed just watching you. Angrily, Same little face he did when you smiled at him going in the shower.

His arms were crossed now though.

“I feel so much better now.” You speak your thoughts out loud as you toss your dirty clothes in the hamper, “felt icky all day.”

Bakugo doesn’t say anything, just looks at your figure facing the tall mirror, you notice, also noticing he was upset, and though you love him, his lack of communications skills can be a pain in the ass because you know once you ask him “What’s wrong” he’ll be bratty and say nothing.

So you instead decide to tease him, why not? You were kinda horny today anyway.

You take off your bun and scarf and let your braids fall down your back, while also dropping the robe that was loosely draped over your body anyway down to your ankles. In an instant you see Bakugo shift in his seat to try to look away.

“It’s so colddddd.” You fake burr while tip toe’ing to the thermometer, “Freezing in here.”

“Maybe because your tits are out.”

Finally. He speaks.

“I thought you liked my tits? You did last week, see. Still have the hockey for it.”

“Shut up.”

Smirking, you lightly prance your way over to him, he noticed the bed dipping under your weight and that damn intoxicating scent of your body wash bearing his nose, Bakugo knew if he turned he’d be face to face with you.

“Look at me.”

Only his eyes gracing your with a second glance he stays still for a moment until you take his chin and force him to.

“Put some damn clothes on.”

“Make me.”

Bakugo didn’t wanna accept defeat, his pride wouldn’t let him. No matter how sexy you look to him right now, how good you smell, or even how badly he wants to stuff his face between your thighs.

He’s still mad at you.

“Why are you mad at me? Did I do something?”

“‘M not mad.”

“Liar.” You bark back quickly, his graze went down to your chest, when you realize you adjust yourself on his lap, your bare damp cunt taking its place on his semi hard dick already through his sweats, “What happened?”

Your breath fanned his lips, Bakugo felt his will breaking, his determination to stay angry at you, but got damn you and those big doe eyes you have with such need and curiosity.

Those same eyes he wants tearing up under him again, “…..You…you didn’t notice.”

“Notice what?” You started to look and search over his face and body, no new haircut or anything.

“…I got the highest score on the final exam and you didn’t even congratulate me….”

Blinking at him he starts to grumble and shuffle in his seat, relaxing his arms to land on your hips his cheeks begin to flush.

You typically do praise him with every accomplishment he has whether big or small, but you didn’t mention it once today after you both left the lecture to check your scores. He don’t know why it made him so upset but it did.

And that was just so fucking cute to you.

“Oh baby…..” You practically whine out to kiss all over his face, “I’m so sorry baby c’mere.”

Your voice had some teasing undertone to it, but Bakugo didn’t care to point it out feeling on your naked body grind and press against him, he closes his lips with yours, almost greedily sucking your bottom lip and licking your own tongue in your mouth he holds you closer, lower growling, still annoyed feeling in his chest, but it begins to get ignored when your fingers traced against it.

“Can i make it up to you?”

He pulls away not saying anything, but watching you adjust your body between his legs, you pat his thigh to lift his hips, dick springing up embarrassingly to slap against his lower body with prickles of pre cum, your eyes practically glowing at the sight.

“Wait.” Bakugo uses the last bit of sanity he had to cup your cheek, “Turn around.”

“Baby….” Already knowing what he was implying he wanted to do you begin to get flushed, “That position is embarrassing.”

“Not to me.” Shaking his head he already begins to pull up your body to adjust yourself on top of him, nothing, but your pussy and asshole right in his face, “There we fucking go. Shit—- You just drooled on my lip Y/N-“

“‘Suki!” You whine, “You better watch your fingers too this time—aah!”

Shutting you up he latches onto your dangling little clit, aching for a suckle, you felt his hands spread your ass out further for more access, ignoring how slutty he must look right now you take as much of him as you could.

69 is typically Bakugo’s go to, he loves be smothered by you completely, the way you shake your ass in his face when he begins to tease you with the tip of his tongue only doing figure 8 shapes on your clit, when you moan on his dick when you’re close, the way he just sometimes gets away with licking your ass too, he was a freak, and he doesn’t care how embarrassed you might be because at the end of the day he really loves all of you.

Even if he gets mad at you sometimes.

[tojisteddy]

Keegan P. Russ, who fucks up into you when your overstimulated.

And it’s cynical the way this man will see you sobbing while you ride him till you can even feel your legs, moaning for a break while your hands lay flat on his broad chest, stilling yourself after you’d soaked Keegan with your slick down to his thighs. But there’s no way you’re stopping.

At least when Keegan knows he can draw a few more orgasms out of you.

The only way out is through, right?

So he rams up into you, his hand coming down to give your ass a nice smack.

“Kee-“ you keen, eyes squeezing shut as rails into you, each thrust into your gushing walls hits your g-spot perfectly.

“Kee, Daddy, Kee—” the older man mocks, snarkly chuckling at you, “What else can you say babydoll? Isn’t it soooo much baby?” He purrs in your ear, holding onto the mounds of your ass in each hand, ramming you back down on him.

“It’s- hnngh- it’s much- so much Daddy.” You hiccup.

“I knoooow kid it’s a lot, you can take it though. You love how I split you open, shit- fuck you just how you want,” he croons, licking at your arm making a shiver shoot up your arm.

You topple over on Keegan, slapping at his arm, head falling to his shoulder as he fucks you dumber than ever before. The only thing you can manage are gasps, hes fucking you hard, deep into your spongy walls.

“Baby girl, I know you didn’t pass out on me.”

Your brain might have spilled out, your sob that leaves your lips is irrupt while you cum, your entire body shaking down to your cunt. Creaming his large cock completely with every clench. He takes you in his arms as the euphoria washes over you, body limp as he sits the both of you.

“So fuckin pretty,” he mumbles at the state you’ve left his dick. White at the base of his cock and sloppy wetness where you two are connected. Keegan fuckin loves it. Needs it ingrained in his brain.

“Fuck baby, need you to cream all over Dad again. You can do it again, right doll?”

a/n: I got a lot of requests for Keegan smut, so this is that. Who else has been victimized from tojisteddy sliding in icky daddy kink in her work? I have 🙋🏾

[hyruling]

“So you’re… not in love with me?”

“Right, I-I’m not — yeah. Not in love with you.”

“Okay…”

“What’s, uh — how do you feel about that?”

“How do I — honestly, Buck, not great.”

“Yeah you look… I don’t know. I wasn’t expecting you to. Look like that.”

“And how am I supposed to look when my best friend anti-confesses his feelings for me?”

“Is that. I don’t think that’s a word.”

“Jesus, Buck.”

“I don’t know, I mean — d-do you want me to be?”

“…yeah, maybe?”

“Maybe? What does that — you can’t say maybe, you can’t — you can’t say that to me.”

“Why? If you’re not in love with me, why does it matter?”

“Because, I — I mean fuck, why do I have to be in love with you, huh? Because since I broke up with Tommy, everyone just assumes I must be, a-and that’s — it’s — I don’t know.”

“I’m not saying you have to be, but — fuck, never mind.”

“No, tell me.”

“No, it’s — not gonna come out right, just forget it.”

“I don’t care, tell me.”

“Buck—”

“It’s me, come on. I just confided in you.”

“‘Confided’? You blurted it out of nowhere the second we walked through the door.”

“Well you didn’t see the way Maddie was looking at us tonight.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing. Stop deflecting and tell me.”

“You’re going to think I’m terrible.”

“Eddie, come on. I won’t. I could never think that.”

“Okay. Fine, I just — I don’t even know how to — you’re so good, Buck. And I’ve seen the way you are with people you’re in love with, and I guess I’m just — it’s selfish. But I want you like — like that. With me.”

“Like — what?”

“Like… remembering to get more milk when we run out and I forgot, or putting Chris’ PT appointments and robotics meetings on the calendar. Or getting me that iced latte I never order for myself, just because. Little things, you know, just. Having my back.”

“I — Eddie, I’ve always done those things.”

“I know. And it’s stupid, because you’ve never given me reason to think you’d stop doing any of those things, but if you — when you do fall in love again, you’ll be split between us and whoever you’re with, and I just want — fuck.”

“You want…?”

“I think — I want you all to myself.”

“…”

“Told you it was fucked up.”

“No, Eddie, that’s not — that’s not it, I, um.”

“C’mon, don’t leave me hanging now.”

“I think — I mean I know. That I want that too.”

“You want me all to yourself?”

“No — I mean, yes, but. I want to, uh. I want to be — yours.”

“…”

“…”

“And you’re sure you’re not in love with me?”

“I’m, I — Eddie, I can’t. I can’t, unless—”

“Unless? Unless what? Unless I love you back?”

“Eddie—”

“Because I do. I do, Buck.”

“You don’t mean that, I — why are you laughing?”

“Because — Dios. I think we might be stupid.”

“We? I’m being very mature about this.”

“Sure you are, baby.”

“…”

“…too much?”

“No, I — say it again.”

“Which part bud?”

“Don’t be a — stop laughing, you know which part.”

“‘Course I do, sweetheart.”

“God, Eddie—”

“Any others I should try? See if they feel right?”

“No, shut up — stop making fun of me.”

“You’re just so red, it’s cute.”

“They, uh. They do, though. Feel right.”

“Yeah. Feels right on my end too.”

“…”

“Should we… should we see how this feels too?”

“I’ve got a pretty good feeling about it.”

[pookiesylus]

Announcing your pregnancy to Sylus

You and Sylus have been quite…”active” recently. Sylus has been trying a new workout routine, and let’s just say, it’s really been showing results.

The morning after a night of “cardio” with Sylus, you decide to get a proper pregnancy test done at the hospital just to be safe. They run some tests, you pee in a cup, and…

“You’re pregnant.”

You freeze, heart racing as you cycle through an array of emotions from the doctor’s words. Your hand slowly grazes over your stomach as a new warmth flowers in your heart. A baby. Your baby…

Sylus’ baby.

Your eyes widen, “I have to tell Sylus!”

Given how observant and sharp Sylus is, he’d be able to figure it out no matter how hard you’d try to hide it. He knows your behaviors, your scent, and he knows when it changes. In order to surprise him with this news, you’d have to tell him today.

After leaving the hospital, you head to the mall remembering that one children’s store you and Sylus would always pass. The same one that elicits Sylus to make teasing comments like,” Want to shop in there, kitten? If you want, I’ll give you a reason to.”

Now here you are, and it seems that Sylus did in fact give you a reason to shop here.

You looked around for an outfit that would be cute for the announcement, but they didn’t have much of a selection. That was until you found a baby-sized leather jacket, almost identical to the one Sylus owns. Though it’s not very comfortable looking, it will do for your purposes.

Once you got home, you find Mephisto on his perch, and tell him your master plan. As soon as you finish, the door unlocks.

There he was.

The father of your child, wearing that same leather jacket.

“There’s my girl.” He slowly walks in. Cups your face, and kisses you tenderly.

“Is something wrong?” he says noticing the anticipation in your eyes.

“No, nothing’s wrong, but I do have a surprise for you.”

“I always like your suprises.”

You gently grab his wrist, and guide him to sit on the couch. You sit down next to him.

“Mephisto,” You nod at the little mechanical bird. Sylus smiles and tiles his head, finding your silent gestures adorable.

“Sylus, put your hands out.”

Mephisto who flew to the next room over, now carries a jumbled ball of leather. Sylus slightly squints unable to make out what’s in his beak.

“Did you shrink your clothes in the dryer, Kitten?” he chuckles deeply. You nudge him teasingly.

Mephisto softly bows, dropping the ball of leather before Sylus’ hand. You can see his realization materialize as he unravels the jacket.

He goes quiet, and looks at you.

His eyes searching for answers.

“Sylus,” you stand up in front of him, while holding his hands. “I’m pregnant,” you say, eyes brimming with nervousness and joy.

He gazes up at you. Awestruck.

He swiftly stands up, sweeping you off your feet, twirling you around, then pulling you in closer than you’ve ever been before.

His eyes sparkle as he looks down onto you. “We’re really going to have a baby, sweetie?”

“Mhm,” you hum, the tears finally streaming down.

“Oh, Kitten…”

Sylus meets your lips, your worlds colliding. He dips his head into your neck, letting out a huff from his unexplainable emotions.

You lift his head up.

Tears.

This is the first time you’ve ever seen tears from Sylus’ eyes.

As you move your hand to wipe them away, Sylus pulls your face in, only inches from his.

“Y/N. I swear that I will always protect you. Both of you. I'll keep you both safe, no matter what. Even if the whole world turns upside down, I'll stand between you and anything that tries to hurt you. I just—“

"I Iove you so much,” he kneels down, laying a kiss on your tummy. “And I love our baby too.”

[princessbrunette]

you hear an unreleased future song rattling the ground with its bass before you even see rafe cameron’s truck.

unreleased future. you want to laugh, really — you bite the corner of your bottom lip and swallow a tonne of lipgloss just to avoid it because you don’t want him to see your smile and mistake it for excitement. he didn’t deserve it. you hide your amusement by shaking your head, tapping your kitten heel as he throws his vehicle into a haphazard reverse to park up beside you. unreleased future. like he’s a teenage lana fan or something.

rafe squints out the window of the passenger side, leaning over to look you over, eyes lingering on your thighs for a second longer when he spots that you’re wearing a skirt. shit, maybe you were easy. it had been months since you’d seen him. it had been months since you dumped him.

as he glances over you his lips are parted in that classically boyish rafe-like way that made you feel something weird in your stomach that you hadn’t felt in a while. you bury it immediately, reminding yourself to stand on business.

“you uhh — gonna get in? or y’gonna keep standing there… acting like you don’t want to.” he forces his lips into a tight sarcastic smile and you roll your eyes. always the charmer.

the sun set pretty fast and it’s getting dark already as the two of you speed along a bridge. the musics too loud and he’s driving too fast like he always did — setting your nerves on edge. reaching forward, you pinch the volume nozzle with your manicured fingers and violently turn it left, turning it down a considerable amount before flopping back in your seat pointedly. rafe smirks, unabashed and open. you haven’t changed a damn bit.

“i thought you wanted to talk.” you find yourself still raising your voice a little to be heard over the hum of the car.

“jesus, i do — alright.” he’s quick to snap, but when you look at him, there’s lines on his cheeks and he’s laughing, which oddly softens you slightly.

“okay… well… i wouldn’t have been able to hear you.” you’re still defensive, albeit a little calmer.

“m’pulling up to our spot. if that’s alright with you. your highness.” he shakes his head, spinning the car round the corner to the empty lot that overlooks the water. your heart drops a little at the memories here. talking, laughing, fucking, arguing. it was always here.

he unfastens his seatbelt and stretches, hands on his buzzed head as he stares out at the tranquil waves. “shit… had some good times here, huh?” he croons. you know of all the times here you just pondered on which times he was thinking of. you swallow.

shamefully, not much talking happens next. some drone about how he’s a better man, getting his shit together and all that jazz. it feels like a rehearsed speech of sorts, one he’d gone over and over in his head to find any faults but ends up coming out all aggressive and forced in that way that was so quintessentially him. it should have made you pissed off. it just made you miss him.

your panties hang off one ankle in the backseat as he kneels between your legs, fucking that tall, thick, pretty cock up into your gummy walls. you feel defenceless, respectless as you shamefully take him and enjoy it. shit, it had been ages since you got fucked properly like you deserved— maybe you were just giving into impulses. you were simply overwhelmed, he’d used the magic he used on you to win you over in the first place and mixed it with your compulsion to nostalgia and got you right under his thumb again. his hips plap against you and you squeeze your eyes shut as to not look at him.

you don’t mind feeling him though, the way his mushroom tip stretches your insides. the way the skin of his bicep feels when you intimately and softly wrap a hand around it, gently scratching with your nails at each thrust. you can’t see but you don’t miss the shiver that runs up his spine or the soft moan that follows.

“come on. come on.” he grunts quietly to no one in particular before he hones in on you. “hey. hey you look at me alright? look at me when i’m fuckin’ you.” he tilts his head, staring you down like he could will your eyes open with telekinesis. maybe he could, because your sticky lashes flutter and your pupils dilate an embarrassing amount at the sight of him. “wanna — shit — wanna do things for you — yeah? wanna take you home. stay over at my place. just — just one night, alright? see how you feel —” he suddenly babbles, straightening his back and slowing his movements a little, all breathless as he scoops under your ass with his hands to fuck you deeper.

you groan, arching your spine up flailing your feet a little. “no.” you defy, feeling too hot as the windows fog.

“yeah. c’mon.” he disagrees like it was an opinion, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“no. don’t wanna go to your house. don’t wanna listen to you.” you spill in an emotional whine. there’d been no mention of obeying him here, but with rafe you knew subtext was everything. this is how he webs you into his trap.

he barely freezes but you notice him process what you said for a few seconds before he drops his voice even lower. “open your mouth baby.”

you do. and it’s so fast, and your tongue is so wet it’s humiliating. pavlovian, damaging to women everywhere. you blink and he’s grinning like the cheshire cat, leaning in to spit a fat glob down the back of your throat. fuck. fuck fuck fuck. fuck him. fuck me.

he stays there, nose to yours, lips nearly inside your mouth and he speaks into it, rolling his hips now nice and slow. “yeah uh, you don’t even believe what you’re saying — okay — make this easy on me— yeah? — make this — fuck, this fucking pussy — make this easy on me baby. i’m a man now.” he mumbles, nasally and familiar and you could have sworn you time travelled back to last summer when he was your entire world.

“mmghhh—” is all you could reply because now he’s angling his hips like a demon to scrape that gooey spot right near your cervix.

“you miss me.” he mouths at your lips.

“nuh—uh—ugh—”

“you miss me baby— come on.”

“. . .”

“you miss me kid.”

“i miss you daddy. i miss you!”

and just like that, the dam bursts. sure you can build a moat around your castle, but rafe cameron will always show you just how well he can swim.

[scoobywrites690]

Simons favourite Cam Girl pt2

As I’m writing this we are 100 followers away from 1k followers and I’m so excited! I’ve gotta think of what to do for a 1k special. If anyone has any ideas feel free to let me know. Also what do we think of the account revamp? This piece is so fucking long it’s like 2k words but I love it so much. Part one here

cw: blow job, toys, penetration, cream pie, pussy eating

Even though you earnt a living by exposing yourself to a live audience every night, doesn’t mean you actually know what you’re doing when it comes to having any form of sexual relations with a man. Yes, you’ve slept with a handful of men. But that’s it, so when you offered your favorite and most loyal viewer an offer, you weren’t actually expecting him to agree. 

Yet here you stand face to face with the man who’s supported you right from the beginning of your career. He’s not entirely what you expected, and in all honesty you were expecting some low life loser who lives in their parents basement, which you can now confirm is the complete opposite of the man that you now know as Simon. 

He’s absolutely massive compared to you, in every possible way. He towers over you, dwarfing your entire frame just by standing next to you. His arms are thick and fat with muscle to the point that he doesn’t even need to flex for you to be able to see them, his chest so broad and wide that you’d completely disappear if he stood in front of you.

You had never seen a man so big, which had you questioning if you were ready to take on a man of his size. But it’s too late to back out now. 

“Listen, there's something I need to make clear before we start.” You state, twiddling your thumbs as you find yourself intimidated at the man that stands before you. 

“Anything, doll.” He says, his voice thick and rough.

“I’ve only ever been with a couple of guys. So, I'm not actually a hundred percent sure on what to do.” You admit, looking up to meet his lingering gaze. Scanning his features for any shock or disappointment. As most people would expect a cam girl to have plenty of experience. 

“Don’t you worry, luv. I’ll guide ya.” He says, cupping your face with his giant hands. His hands are rough and hard against your cheeks.

“You sure you still wanna do this?” You ask.

“Of course, I’ve been dreaming of this day since I first discovered you.” He remarks, his voice filled with such joy and happiness that you could have sworn there was a twinkle in his eyes. 

“Okay then, I wasn’t sure if you’d want your face being shown. So I went and grabbed this.” You say as you fish out the mask you brought this morning. It’s not much just a skull mask that comes down over his nose, but it’ll hide any recognizable features if he wants them hidden.

“I didn’t think about that, thank you.” He says, taking the mask from your hand before securing it over his head making sure it’s nice and snug to avoid it slipping down. 

“Okay you ready?” You ask once the mask is secure. 

“Go ahead.” He says, taking a seat on the bed behind you as you start up the live. Your webcam flickers on as the view of yourself soon fills up your screen, it doesn’t take long before the live chat starts filling up with people all greeting you as they enter. 

“Hello everyone!” You exclaim, waving at the camera whilst flashing them a smile.

“I’ve got a little treat in store for you all tonight.” You remark as you watch the chat load comment after comment of people expressing their curiosity. Rolling your chair to the side a bit you reveal the hulking form of Simon sitting on the bed, looking every bit intimidating with his mask on. 

“I invited a very special viewer to join me today! He’s a long time subscriber and a trusted one at that, so I thought he deserved a reward for being so loyal.” You explain.

“I won't make you guys wait any longer though.” You state with a chuckle before making your way over to Simon, his hands reaching out to wrap around your waist the minute you are close enough. Dragging you towards him and hoisting you up into his lap your thighs on either side as you straddle the mammoth of a man. 

His lips meet yours, soft and warm as they press together before his tongue darts out to meet yours, in a sloppy tangled mess. Locking your arms around his neck, your fingers tugging on the short blonde hair at the nape of his neck as you slowly roll your hips grinding yourself against him. A growl like moan rubbles from inside Simon as his hands on your hips help to move you against him. 

“I feel like I’m gonna fuckin’ burst, doll.” He states pulling away from you, his eyes blown with lust as he rakes his eyes over your body. 

“Where’s that toy from last time?” He asks.

“In that box over there.” You state pointing towards the plastic box that sits in the corner. 

Lifting you up and placing you on the bed Simon heads towards the box, removing the lid in search of the fake cock from your previous live stream. It looks nowhere near as big in Simon’s hands compared to when it was in yours, making the struggle that you had using it seem ridiculous and maybe even fake. 

“Open wide for me, dollface. We gotta get you prepped.” He asks, standing in front of you.

“I-I um..I’m not actually very good at doing that.” You admit, your cheeks flushing as embarrassment washes through your body.

“What? Sucking a dick.” He asks, earning him a nod in response as you meet his gaze. 

“I’ve not had a lot of practice.” You say as you twiddle your fingers in your lap.

“S’alright don't worry yourself. I’ll help ya.” He says before dazzling you with a comforting smile. 

“Now open wide. Tongue out. Nice and flat. Like you’re begging for it.” He gruffs gripping ahold of your jaw. Opening your mouth nice and wide sticking your tongue like he asked has Simon groaning at the sight of you sitting so pretty in front of him, as he slides the silicone cock against your extended tongue.

Pushing it back Simon watches as the fake cock fills your mouth, lips thinning as you wrap them around the girth. Dragging it back out watching as your saliva coats the surface just to slide it back in again.

“Can I go deeper?” He asks as he works it in and out. Nodding in response has Simon pumping the fake cock just that little bit deeper.

“Suck for me, but no teeth. Nice and wide just like that.” He demands as he watches you hollow your cheeks.

“Fuck me, I could blown in my jeans just at the sight of you. So fuckin’ beautiful.” He groans as he works the fake cock deeper down your throat, but taking enough care so you don't choke around it. Saliva coats your lips as he pulls the cock out a string of it stretching between you and the toy before he’s pushing it back in.

“You’re doing so well.” He coos running his fingers through your hair making sure to keep it out of the way. 

You can’t help but whimper out at the praise, as you stare up into his piercing gaze. Reaching for his hips you bracing yourself against him, letting your wandering hands roam the expanse of his body. Before palming over his rock-hard cock.

Using both hands you begin tugging at his waistband fumbling with his belt before yanking his jeans down just enough to allow access to his aching cock. Reaching in and pulling it free from the confinements of his boxers. Staring at him as you work your hand up and down his length, with his hips bucking forward in response.

“Fuck!” He exclaims. Pulling the fake cock free from your mouth and throwing it aside before reaching down to lift you. Throwing you further onto the bed. 

“Spread those legs. Lemme see that pretty pussy, baby.” He says from where he stands at the edge of the bed still, removing the jeans that sit at his ankles. Dropping your thighs apart, nice and wide you let him marvel in the sight of your soaked panties.

“Well isn’t that just the prettiest sight.” He remarks tugging his cock, before crawling towards you. Gripping a hold of the flimsy lace that covers you tearing it clean in half. 

Hooking his arms under your thighs spreading you nice and wide before burying his head between your thighs. His tongue is soft and silky as he licks up your slit flicking hard when he meets your clit, that you can’t help but arch up off the bed. 

“Mhm you like that.” He murmurs against you before draping your thighs over his shoulders. Going in for another taste he laps at your slick, sliding his tongue between your folds before sucking your clit into his mouth. 

“God, yes!” You moan as you squeeze your thighs around his head. 

Simon slipping a finger inside of you has you groaning out as you grind your hips against his face. 

“Do you want another one? Get you nice and ready for my cock, mhm?” He asks, dragging his eyes up to meet yours.

“Yes!” You nod, frantically as your claw at the sheets beneath you. 

And he does just that, slipping another finger inside your sopping core pumping them nice and fast in and out of you as he sucks at your clit.

“Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.” You curse.

“Cum for me, baby. All over my face, give it to me.” He demands. Your body jerks as your muscles spasm, clenching around his fingers before releasing all over him. Simon laps at your pussy, licking up every drop of cum he can get before sucking your release off his own fingers. 

“Fuck me.” You pant, chest heaving as you lay there in the middle of the bed.

“You like that?” He smirks, knowing damn well he just made you cum harder than any toy has been able to. 

“You okay?” He chuckles, grabbing ahold of your hands and pulling you up onto your knees.

“Yeah, j-just gimme a second.” You pant, as he positions you at the end of the bed again. 

“Here, wanna have a proper go?” He asks as he tugs at his cock, his tip throbbing as it drips pre cum. And you can't help but nod eagerly at the opportunity.

“Take it. With both hands. Get it nice and wet for me.” He says aligning his tip against your lips. The taste of the salty pre cum coats your lips like gloss.  Your tongue darts out lapping at the liquid. Slipping your lips down over his swollen tip, you let yourself feel every ridge and vein as you glide across them with your tongue.

“Fuck. That’s it, doll. A bit deeper f’me” He coaxes. 

Pulling more of him into your mouth the same way he did with the fake cock earlier, you let his length fill your mouth and the noises of pleasure that slip past his lips has your pussy getting wetter and wetter, dripping with arousal. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” He moans. His hands gripping at your hair before pulling you off of his cock. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask, worry flooding your system at the thought of doing something wrong.

“Nothing, luv. I’m gonna end up blowing down your throat if you keep it up. And that’s not where I want it.” He says as he cups your cheek, rubbing his thumb across the expanse of your cheek before planting a kiss to your forehead. 

“How do you feel about sitting on me cock, baby?” He asks.

“I think I can do that.” You answer.

“Just say if you don’t wanna, alright?” He says whilst propping himself up against the head board. 

“Okay.” You nod before straddling him, his massive hands coming down to grip your waist.

“Nice and slow, okay.” He says as he helps you position yourself above his cock. Splaying your hands across his chest you inch yourself backwards aligning yourself with his tip.

Your legs straining as you lower yourself down, his tip hitting against your entrance has you stifling a moan as you sink yourself down onto him. Slowly each inch disappears inside of you stretching your tight little pussy around his massive cock. He’s so fucking thick that you find yourself letting out a whimper as he rubs against your walls.

“I feel so full.” You groan, earning you a chuckle in response as you work the last few inches inside of you. 

“You look so beautiful right now, doll face.” He says, releasing his grip on your waist to pull your tits free of the lace bra that you’ve still got on. 

“Fuck me. Look at these beauties." He remarks, squeezing at the fat of your breasts before wrapping his mouth around your rock hard nipple. 

“Fuck!” You moan as you slide the last inch of his cock inside of you, your pussy flush with his pelvis.

“How do you feel?” He asks releasing your nipple from his mouth with a pop.

“So fucking good.” You groan “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this good.” You state. 

Simon chuckles at your statement before planting a firm grip to your waist.

“Come on then. Move these hips, baby.” He says, giving you a slight tap to the ass before beginning to lift you upwards. The feel of his cock dragging against your walls has your eyes rolling back as you bounce yourself up and down his length. Rocking yourself backwards and forward has your clit brushing up against him causing you to squirm and clench around him. 

You can't help but pant out curse after curse as you swivel your hips on top of him.

“Atta girl. Ride me.” He groans, folding his arms behind his head so he can marvel in your beauty. 

Sweat coats your skin as you grip and claw at the skin of his chest, every part of your body trembles as you force yourself to keep going. 

“You gonna cum for me?” He asks.

“Yes. God yes!” You moan, your hands coming up to play with your own nipples as you bounce back onto his cock. 

“That’s it. Give it to me, baby.” He coos. His hands coming back to your waist to help you rock yourself back against him. His cock fills you to the brim as you clench down around him, your body shaking with the intensity of your approaching orgasm. 

“Fuck, baby.” Simon groans as he slams you down onto his cock, holding you in place as he releases inside of you, rope after rope of thick pearly cum coats your walls as you milk him dry. 

“Fuck.” You pant, rolling yourself off of him and onto the bed. 

“You okay?” Simon asks, propping himself up on his elbows to look at you. 

“I’m so good right now.” You state, as a smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

“That’s good.” He says smirking, before placing a kiss against your lips. Soft and gentle before pulling away, to get up. 

Walking towards the webcam, Simon takes a quick glance at the live chat, that’s flooding in message after message. 

“I can see you all enjoyed that, very much.” He chuckles.

But I’ve gotta go take care of her now.” He says before switching the camera off, not even bothering to say goodbye before he's turning back towards where you lay, taking the mask off.

“Let's get you cleaned up, aye.” He says, scooping you up off the bed and walking you towards the bathroom. Where he perches you on the counter so he can start running the bath.

[fierceawakening]

I love it.

But if you want an actual answer from someone who didn’t grow up evangelical but whose mom was religious enough to make it very clear that she’d absorbed by osmosis that even though it was PROBABLY fine, she didn’t approve of me thinking my older cousin’s D&D stuff was cool and wanted very much to tamp down any desire I had to try it too:

Fundamentalist Christianity is fundamentally (heh) about the idea that there are two major powers in the world: God and Demons.

The demons are less powerful than God, but they make up for it by being slippery hateful little bastards. They know they’re going to lose the ultimate battle, so they do that thing where they decide “if im going down, those guys over there are going down with me” and devote the entirety of their immortal lifespans to coming up with clever ways to trick the humans into falling for bullshit even if the humans know about Jesus.

This is what most if not all fundamentalists think other religions are. Stuff demons made up to trick you into worshipping the demons long enough that you die before you realize you made a mistake. Because if you die without admitting your mistake and converting to Christianity, you’ve used up your allotted time and you go to hell, and you’re not able to avoid the same fate as the demons, and they get to feel smug about it, which is pretty much the only fun they get to have ever, so honestly I can kind of see why they’re such little shits.

But if that’s what other religions are, then that’s what other things are that LOOK like religions but aren’t, too. So D&D might admit “yeah there isn’t actually a Selune or anything, we just made that up for the story.” But it works like the thing the demons did when they convinced people to worship Allah or Mary (yes, a lot of these folks are so ridiculous about this shit they see Catholics as “deifying” Mary, meaning goddess worship, meaning a demon tricked you, and you’re making the real spirit of Mary sad). It must be designed to ultimately get you to believe it. Or at least to find it compelling enough that you get distracted and start listening to the demons.

The theory as i understand it was that role playing games were designed to be immersive, to get you to feel like your character. You were supposed to have so much fun in the fake world that you’d lose touch with the real one and want to become your character, which would open you up to the wiles of the demons.

Sometimes the idea was that you’d straight up become interested in occultism, wanting to replicate the use of magic in the game by becoming a literal warlock, that is, in hock to the demons, because God won’t let you do magic but they dgaf as long it helps them trick you into dying before you see the con.

But I don’t think thst was NECESSARY to the panic. All they needed was the vague idea that the demons are tricksy and sly, and if you get too much pleasure out of Demon Stuff they might manage to arrange for you to suddenly get hit by a car or something the second you think “you know, maybe there’s no Jes—“ *THUNK* “BWAHAHA WE GOT ANOTHER ONE.”

Which is why it was convincing to a lot of people who should’ve known better, like my mom, who usually thinks fundies are assholes twisting her religion into something cruel and gross.

Because all you need is that sliver of fear to get a parent who rationally knows “there aren’t demons” or “if there are demons they don’t intervene like that” to turn on the Protective Animal Brain.

Which meant you got people like my mom. No actual reason to want to shield me from D&D, but rules against it Just In Case.

I think we need to appreciate this part of Brennan Lee Mulligan's WIRED interview a lot more:

"The evangelical right in this country needs to manufacture outrage to hold onto its voting block. [The satanic panic about DnD] was arbitrary, as the targets of their outrage always are. Fight the power."

[fushiguruuzzzz]

know my name, know my face.

megumi is sick and tired of you being so formal. he is silent in his feelings until one day, when something as simple as a little shop and your eagerness about a keychain tips him over.

just a really silly fluffy fic. canon verse. was supposed to be a drabble but I yapped too much so I formatted. megumi yearns and longs and broods and- you get it. a mix between a drabble and a short fic kill me. no beta we die like everyone in the jjkverse. word count of 1046.

masterlist . join the gen taglist

although he loathe to admit how deeply he is being affected by this whole situation, the truth is that megumi is getting fed up with you.

not you, per se, but the way you seem to view him. he feels more distant to you than the others; you seem more personal with them, more friendly. even though you choose to spend more time with him than anyone else and speak to him more fondly and overall express more affection for him, he feels out of place. when you call upon the other first years, his name rolls off your tongue differently. it leaves your lips akin to that of a stranger.

you see, there is yuji and nobara and then there is fushiguro.

(he recalls the early days of your friendship with the group. your voice had been so sugary, lined with honey as you asked “is it okay if I call you yuji?” and, “you don’t mind nobara, right?” …you had not even asked him. he had looked straight ahead and pretended to feel less invisible.)

it meets his ears and makes him wince internally every time. it is soft and sweet as it always is, but that does not change the facts. you refer to him as a classmate rather than a companion. he wants to grab you by your shoulders and make you repeat the syllables of his first name until it is engraved in your mind and vocals alike — his ears too. maybe, if he were feeling really desperate, he would fall to his knees. however, he does neither. he simply gives a nod and lets the sound ring through him, lets the echo of it beat against his insides and leave welts big enough to have him crumpling to the ground. he greets you back like he is neutral, keeps his knees steady. he calls you by your last name also.

perhaps he is being dramatic. perhaps he is irked by it more than he should be, but he cannot help himself. what is it about him that is so alien? he had always been different from other people, but jeez.

he is silent in his brooding, quiet in his troubled inquiries. they fester in his mind and do not pollute the air. until one day, his mouth betrays him.

your feet have the gravel crunching beneath you as you bound up to him, a smile on your face. the others were not in sight—the three of you had gone off into another part of the shop whilst he lingered in a different isle. you had returned to him alone. it made him feel seen, even as he schooled his expression to indifference.

you hold a keychain out to him. “look, fushiguro! isn’t this cute?”

the warmth in him flickers, fading into a dull ember. he gives a short nod, hoping you would not notice the way the corner of his lips tugged downward. a long, silent exhale leaves his nose, eyes focused a little too intently on the trinket than necessary.

you pause, because you noticed, as you always did. you saw him. but unfortunately, you only saw fushiguro.

“fushiguro?” you questioned tentatively.

that was the final straw; the words escaping him before he could will them away, “why do you do that?”

a pause. the meaning of the cryptic statement is somewhat lost on you, he quickly realized. the tips of his ears heat up as he continues, “speak to everyone so personally except for me. we aren’t strangers, you know.”

tilting your head, your brows furrow, not because you are still confused but because it was so ironic. not one person at jujutsu high called him by his first name save for gojo, who was met with the meanest scowl every single time. you would much rather be left out of his wrath, therefore did not bother pushing him for it. your eyes flicker oddly for a moment and he is left to drown in the silence.

“everyone calls you fushiguro.”

he averts his eyes completely. the tips of his ears are turning pink, but you can only see if you look very closely. “what makes you think you’re just a part of everyone?”

“well, when we met. you stared at me deadpan and introduced yourself with it’s fushiguro, point blank.”

his cheeks warm further. he scowls, both because of your horrible impression of him and because of the recollection. he did do that, but… that was different. that was a long time ago. that was before you had become so close to his heart that you could touch it, feel it beat against your palm and speak his first name in morse code for you. now is now.

“that was different.”

“so… you want me to call you megumi?”

the sound of his first name hits him like a punch to the gut. his heart speeds up, fingers twitching at his sides. finally, he thinks. after multiple months and a bit of mild mortification, you had done it. his soul eases and sinks contently back into his bones. he shrugs, though, despite his entire conscious screaming yes. “do whatever you want. I was just asking.”

you chuckle. he is a bit of a terrible liar when it comes to these things, you have learned. you choose to humour him. “okay. i’ll call you megumi, then.”

he nods. silence falls again, but it is different this time. easy. transparent. it does not settle thickly and add to the weight on his shoulders, instead lifting it, if even a little. then, “I don’t sound like that, by the way.” his voice is a low grumble.

“you totally do, don’t lie.”

“shut up.”

“okay, whatever, megumi.”

despite himself, he smiles. he would let you torment him so long as you eased the sting with the soothing balm that was his name on your lips. hell, you could curse his entire existence and he would forgive you if it was followed by the gentle whisper of megumi against the shell of his ear. it is a scary thought, but he accepts it with surprising ease.

as long as you called out to him like he was a little more than a stranger, he was anything to you. he was yours.

tags: @sh0ot1ngst4r @azinniyaa @kashee-h @fiannee @bubybubsters @lizbix @mayyhaps @adoresia @xianji @cinnamxnangel @sickpatientt @megapteraurelia @scoutings @anotherwriternamedclara @spookypeacesandwich @titititititixo @wizzzierr @jadeyaps @whoevenisjessica @nishislcve @rustymind @grndz3r000

[writeriguess]

Can you write me a MHA fic where reader and Katsuki have been crushing on each other for ages but both are denying it and Katsuki is really mean to her, and reader is really mean to Katsuki. One day, Katsuki's friends trick them and get them to go on a blind date, they have a huge fight but end up making out.

Like Hell I’d Fall for You

"God, he’s insufferable."

You slam your locker shut with a little more force than necessary, scowling like the world personally offended you. Which, to be fair, it kind of did. Or more specifically, he did.

"Bakugou Katsuki is the human embodiment of a stubbed toe," you mutter under your breath.

"Funny," says Mina from behind you, “because I just heard him say you were the reason birth control was invented.”

You whip around. “He said what?”

She raises her hands innocently. “Hey, I’m just the messenger. Though, to be fair, didn’t you call him a sentient Red Bull can last week?”

“That's generous,” you scoff. “Red Bull gives people wings. Bakugou gives people migraines.”

Meanwhile, in the opposite hallway…

"She’s fucking unbearable," Bakugou growls, kicking his locker shut hard enough to dent it.

“She’s literally the only person who can keep up with your bullshit, man,” Kirishima replies, biting into an apple like this is just another episode of their weekly soap opera. “That kind of energy? It’s flirting.”

Bakugou’s eye twitches. “Shut up.”

“I’m just saying. She calls you a dumpster fire with legs, but she also stares at you for ten minutes during training.”

Bakugou turns his glare on him. “If I stared at a fire for ten minutes, it’d be because I wanted to burn it out.”

Kirishima just smiles knowingly. “Right.”

This, of course, has been going on for months. The entire class is in on it. The professors? Probably too. It’s hard to miss the sheer voltage of tension between you and Bakugou.

You mock him, he scowls at you. He mocks you, you threaten to shove his gauntlet up his ass. Everyone pretends not to notice that neither of you ever backs down. It’s exhausting. And weirdly entertaining.

Which is why Mina, Kirishima, and Kaminari decide to intervene.

By lying to you.

Friday, 6:30 PM – Somewhere in a trendy Tokyo café

You’re dressed like a liar. Because you were told this was a casual coffee meetup with Mina and Momo. So you showed up in a cute dress, makeup on, hair nice.

Which is exactly why, when you see Bakugou at the other end of the café looking just as confused and wearing a crisp black button-up (that you refuse to admit fits him way too well), your stomach drops.

“Oh hell no.”

He spots you. His face does a weird thing. You think it might be pain. Or fury. Or indigestion.

You both start walking toward each other like you’re about to duel at high noon.

“What the hell is this?” you hiss.

“I was told this was a Kirishima thing,” he growls.

“Well, Mina’s dead to me now.”

He crosses his arms. “Like I’d go on a date with you.”

“Oh please. Like I’d want to.”

And yet, neither of you leave.

You’re both seated. Begrudgingly. In utter silence. Until the barista drops off two drinks Mina apparently pre-ordered under the names “Queen of Spite” and “Lord Explosion Murder.”

Your cup has a little heart on it. His has a middle finger doodled on the side.

You blink. Then laugh. “Okay, that’s actually kind of funny.”

He snorts. “Idiots.”

Silence again. Then:

“You look good,” he mutters.

You glance up, startled.

He immediately scowls. “I mean, like. For you. Not—whatever. Fuck.”

You smirk. “Wow. That almost sounded like a compliment. Who are you and what have you done with the snarling porcupine I know?”

He glares. “You look like you’re going to a damn gala.”

“Oh, so now it’s too much?”

“You’re fishing.”

“I don’t need to fish for compliments from you, Katsuki.”

“You just did!”

“Oh my god, do you even hear yourself?!”

You’re both standing now. Not yelling, but close.

“You think I wanna be here?” he bites out.

“I know you don’t. You’d rather die than admit you like me.”

He goes still.

Shit.

Shitshitshit.

You freeze too. A beat of silence. Then:

“I—what?” you stammer.

His mouth works like he wants to say something, but can’t.

Then he does.

“Of course I fucking like you.”

Your heart slams into your ribs.

“I’ve liked you since second year,” he mutters, not meeting your eyes. “When you beat the shit outta that third year who said my quirk was all boom, no bite. You called him a discount sparklers pack.”

Your jaw drops.

“I've tried everything to stop. You drive me insane. You talk back, you’re loud, you fight dirty—”

“So do you!” you shout.

“Exactly!” he snaps. “You’re like... I don’t know! A natural disaster. A pretty one. With teeth.”

You blink.

“Oh my god.”

And then—

You launch across the table.

He catches you halfway.

Mouths crash. Teeth knock. Someone knocks over a latte. It’s chaos. It’s electric. It’s inevitable.

Your hands are in his hair. His hands are on your waist. Your body feels like it’s on fire and your heart is trying to punch out of your chest. It's a fucking moment.

Somewhere behind the counter, a barista stops mid-pour.

“Holy shit,” says the newer one. “Should we... call security?”

The older barista just watches calmly, chewing gum. “Nah. This is like a nature documentary.”

The new guy blinks. “What?”

She jerks her thumb toward you and Bakugou, still aggressively making out.

“Predators. They fight, then they mate. Give it a minute.”

You and Bakugou eventually stumble out of the café, breathless and flushed, hand-in-hand like you didn’t spend the last year trading death threats.

“So,” you say, looking up at him. “Was that the worst date you’ve ever been on?”

He grins, wide and wolfish. “Nah.”

“I mean, you did spill my latte.”

“You tackled me.”

You smirk. “So we’re even?”

“Not even close,” he growls, pulling you in again. “I’m gonna spend the rest of the damn week making up for lost time.”

And he does.

Much to the horror (and secret delight) of everyone at U.A.