#hey we're getting in a rut

[marvelstan0905]

"Good luck Charm"

Kenji Sato X S/O!Fem!READER [Smut Scenario]

TW :blowjobs/almost being caught/public setting/mixed POV/idk what else/petnames

-Hi guys. My requests will be open starting 26 June at 5PM [MT ] up until 28th June 1PM [MT]. I'm putting these dates because I don't want to get overwhelmed and end up burned out! Also, May you guys help me out with differentiating between scenarios/headcannons/imagines/oneshots/etc. Thank you so much for the love and support.❤

©all rights reserved. the modification, translation, and plagiarism of my work is strictly prohibited.

Gif credit @soranatus

Kenji needed a little incentive, a little energy boost in order to get his head in the game. He was frustrated with the way games had been going so far. What's better way to relieve his stress and frustration than with his girl's help.

Here the two of you were in the locker room, the two of you were alone and your boyfriend was leaning against the door, his pants undone and his hair disheveled. There you were ,on your knees and his cock in your mouth.

"There we go, you're so pretty on your knees for me, princess" Kenji groaned as his hands tossed through your hair. He stared down at you with hazy, half lidded eyes which were beyond dilated. His hips bucked up into your mouth causing you to whimper slightly. "Shh b-babygirl. You don't want us to be caught ,hmm?"

I nodded and took him deeper into my mouth. With a deep breath I relaxed my gag reflex in order to take him down my throat. A guttural groan and small whimper fell from Kenji's lips.

"T-Thats it my love. You're taking it so well" Kenji breathed heavily as his head fell back against the door and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. I bobbed my head and hallowed my cheeks, hoping to get him there quicker. I glanced at the clock on the wall, noticing we had about 5 minutes before my boyfriend needed to go. I sucked on his cock a lot harder and with more fervor. My tongue ran against the veins on his beautiful cock. My boyfriend almost jolted from the added pressure. "F-Fuxk..I'm so close."

We froze when we heard a knock at the door. "Hey Sato! We're about to go on! Are you almost done changing?" One of Kenji's teammates shouted from outside the door. I didn't stop and kept going. Kenji's breath hitched and he cleared his throat.

"Y-Yeah...be out there soon!" Kenji called out sounding like he just ran a marathon. I hummed holding in my giggles. My boyfriend cursed from the vibrations.

"Okay? Well be quick! We're almost starting!" The player called out. Kenji sighed and grabbed a hold of the back of my head before thrusting into my mouth.

"I'm s-sorry baby, but I need to be quick but I a-also need my little goodluck charm" Kenji panted. I felt his cock throb into my mouth and in the knick of time, he came. His cock was deep into my throat as I swallowed all of his release. Kenji groaned, his face twisted with beautiful pleasure as his hips rut into my mouth. Calming down from his high, He panted."T-Thank you, sweetcheeks"

He breathed a sigh of relief and satisfaction. Kenji gently pulled his soft cock out of my mouth and kissed my head. "Open for me" My boyfriend ordered and I opened my mouth. He smirked in satisfaction, happy that I swallowed all of it.

"What a good girl. Thank you, my love." Kenji smiled and gently tucked himself back into his pants. I stood up and made sure he looking fine.

"Go get em, honey! You can do it!" You encouraged him enthusiastically whiles gently pecking his lips. Kenji chuckled and kissed me once more. I was still a little breathless from our little activity.

"With that kinda of encouragement, I'm scoring home runs left and right" Kenji smirked and gave you a teasing wink. With a playful eye roll and a slight flush on your cheeks, you ushered him out the door.

"Get out of here" I giggled. Kenji laughed and kissed my cheek.

"I'm going. I'm going." Kenji spoke playfully raising his hands in surrender. He jogged off and I was confused when he jogged back to give me another kiss on the lips "I love you"

Kenji pulled away with an affectionate smile and jogged to the stadium with a pep in his step. I chuckled. "I love you too"

"Hey! What are you doing in here!?"

Uh oh

[purplecoffee13]

Nemesis with Benefits* - Part 3

Summary: “You go to your friend’s birthday party, and run into Harry. Naturally, the encounter doesn’t go very smoothly, and you are at each other’s throats in a matter of minutes. But the proximity transforms the anger into… some type of frustration.”

Wc: 4.7k

Tropes: enemies to lovers

Warnings: cursing, smut, dirty talk, (heavy on the)degradation kink, dom/sub dynamics

A/N: Hey y’all, I’m back with another NWB chapter! This took embarrassingly long to write. To be honest, I was in a bit of a rut, and then I was having too many ideas and thoughts at once, and not enough inner peace to sit down and write. But it’s all good now, I’m back, so enjoy!!!

Series Masterlist

General Masterlist

"Isn't it too much?" You ask hesitantly, staring at your dolled up reflection in the mirror of your vanity desk. Rebecca's head shoots your way, a deep frown on her face.

"Hell no! You look absolutely gorgeous, sweetie." She hurries over to you, putting her hands on your shoulder and crouching down to your level. She looks at you through the mirror, giving you a comforting smile, which eases your nerves a little bit.

"Listen, babe, this is your first real party since that troll cheated on you. It's your chance to show everyone that you are strong, and better than ever." Rebecca gives the pep-talk that you have been hearing seven renditions of for the past week. She turns you around so she can look you in the eyes. "Dylan was a deadweight. You are free of that imbecile and we're going to celebrate it by getting you laid."

You roll your eyes, stifling a laugh at Rebecca's mention of her mission for you. "I don't want to get laid."

"Girl... trust me, you need to get laid." Rebecca says as she picks up her purse from your bed. Your mouth falls open at the insult.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!" A chuckle escapes your lips as you ask your friend the question. She turns around, a mischievous grin covering her face.

"You have been so incredibly tense the last weeks, especially today. Seriously, did you have a deadline today or something? You have been incredibly tense all afternoon." Rebecca questions, grabbing both of your jackets and handing yours to you.

Your eyes widen for a slight second, but you quickly regain yourself. You shrug your shoulders, which, now that she mentioned it, are feeling quite tense. You hadn't realized how much effect your stress had on your body today.

Ever since that almost... whatever it was with Harry earlier today, you have absolutely been on edge. It's been difficult to brush it off, especially because the harder you try to not think of it, the longer it stays on your mind. Even blasting rock music didn't get your thoughts off him.

There are just a lot of questions that accompany the events that almost occurred earlier today. Besides the typical, 'why did he even initiate such a movement?', there is also the question of 'why did you almost go along with it?'.

Maybe Rebecca is right. Maybe, you do need to get laid. You are not going to say that out loud to your friend, though, because you know you will never hear the end of it. So instead, you lie.

"Yeah, had a deadline today. But I promise, I'm ready to party." You say. Technically, it a half-lie. You did have a deadline for an assignment today, but it was only a matter of getting your reference list right.

"Alright, let's go then!" Rebecca exclaims enthusiastically, walking out of your bedroom and towards the front door of your apartment.

The frat house where Tyler's party is held is quite close to your apartment. You live extremely close to campus, and so you and Rebecca don't have to suffer through the cold breeze that dominates the night. You are glad, because your short, red dress and sheer tights aren't the warmest thing you've ever worn. You thank your lucky stars for the black knee high boots you paired the outfit with, as they manage to block the wind against your legs a little bit.

The change of temperature going from outside to inside the frat house is lethal. It smells of the standard odors that cover a party: sweat and alcohol.

You don't hear much of what Rebecca shouts at you over the loud music, but her pointing at Tyler tells you all you need to know. She grabs your hand and guides the both of you to your mutual friend.

Tyler grins like an idiot at the sight of you two, spreading his arms out before pulling the two of you into a bear hug.

"I'm so glad you guys came!" He exclaims, letting you pull away.

"We even got you a present." Rebecca says, and Tyler quirks up his brow.

"We think you're going to love it." You add.

Tyler's head flicks from Rebecca to you, and a sneaky smirk creeps up his face. In perfect timing, both you and Rebecca slap Tyler's arm before throwing some profanities his way.

"What?! You said it so suggestively." Tyler laughs, and you flick him on his forehead. He yelps out, and Rebecca and you chuckle at his dramatics.

"You are an idiot." Rebecca smiles sweetly at him, planting a kiss on his cheek anyway. She steps back and grabs your hand, nodding towards the kitchen. "Wanna get a drink?"

"Oh wait, come with me. I locked the good stuff upstairs." Tyler interrupts, and motions for you to walk with him. You look at Rebecca, and shrug before happily following him upstairs to his room.

You have been in Tyler's room plenty of times, one of which you almost ended up having sex with him. It was late and you were both high as fuck, and ended up falling asleep before anything really happened. You laughed about it afterwards, and besides flirty jokes, there is absolutely nothing between you and Tyler.

"Here we are..." Tyler turns around with three bottles of hard liquor in his hands. You and Rebecca cheer as Tyler pours some tequila into each red solo cup. The three of you make a toast to Tyler before downing the ridiculously large shot. You pull a sour face afterwards because you always seem to forget how nasty tequila is. It does the job of getting you drunk, though, so you don't dwell on it too long.

Tyler then makes you and Rebecca a rum and coke. You chat a bit about everything and nothing, but then Rebecca announces she has to pee, and leaves the room. You quite literally feel the air in the room changing as soon as the door is closed again. Tyler looks at you with sad eyes.

"So, how are you holding up?" He tries to be casual, but you roll your eyes because you know what he is aiming at.

"Stop it, I'm fine. He is a dick, and I am just fine." You say, sitting your self onto the bed. Tyler seats himself besides you.

"You can't blame me for asking, I feel like we haven't talked much since... you know. Just wanted to know if you're okay." He shrugs, and your heart melts ever so slightly. Tyler is a great friend, and he was right: you really hadn't spoke to anyone but Benjamin and Rebecca since the break-up.

And Harry.

"I promise, I'm fine." You say, but Tyler just squints at you. It makes you giggle a bit, getting nervous about idiocy. A short silence falls between the two of you, and you take a sip of your rum and coke.

"Rebecca said I should get laid." You confess, before taking a large gulp of your drink. You look at your friend, expectantly, wondering what his opinion on all this is.

"I mean, my door is always open—"

"Shut up!" You cackle, and Tyler laughs. He loves getting on your nerves. "But seriously, do you think that's a good idea?"

He shrugs. "If you're ready, then sure."

"Well, how do I know if I'm ready?" You ask him, your head tilted ever so slightly.

"You'll know." Tyler answer cryptically, getting up from the bed. You follow suit, knitting your brows at his vague words.

"That might just be the least helpful advice I've ever heard." You deadpan, and Tyler rolls his eyes at you.

"You're thinking about this too much. Just try and see if there is someone you feel attracted to, and just try it. If it's a simple hook-up, it's all about the physical attraction, nothing more. So don't overthink it."

You sigh, kind of bummed with the fact that his advice is actually really good and makes a lot of sense, because now you'll have to apply it.

"Now, let's go downstairs, because Rebecca is probably looking for us." Tyler suggests, and you nod. The two of you fill up your drinks before walking out of Tyler's bedroom. You're still laughing at a joke of his when you are met with none other than Harry standing in the hallway.

He looks surprised to see you, and the same can definitely be said for you. There is about a two second delay in his mood change from surprised to irritated, and the tension in your stomach stings.

"Hey bro." Tyler says, a bit unsure at how enthusiastic he can be towards Harry in front of you. You know they're actually good mates, but I think that lessened a bit since the break-up. Tyler is awfully loyal to you, in the littlest ways.

"Hey man, happy birthday." Harry greets Tyler and they do their little bro hug. You watch the interaction, a bit unsure of how to act in front of Harry now. Pulling out from the embrace, Harry turns to you. He greets you with the sole mutter of your last name.

"Styles." You say back.

You feel Tyler looking between the two of you, and you can tell that he is scared that you'll push Harry down the stairs at any given moment. You refuse to lose eye contact with Harry, however, and he seems to have the same idea. It takes about ten seconds of silently staring into each others' souls before Tyler speaks up.

"Y/N, shall we go downstairs? Find Rebecca?" He puts his hand on the small of your back. You silently cheer for yourself when Harry breaks the eye contact, his gaze shooting down to Tyler's arm, before looking at you again.

"Excellent idea." You agree, turning around and walking down the stairs without looking back at Harry. Your stomach is still upset and your mind is spinning; that was oddly stressful for no reason.

Once you've found Rebecca again, you both take to the dance floor. A typical party song plays and everyone starts to cheer and jump along. You and Rebecca dance with each other, laughing because of the alcohol and the guys who are dancing around you.

You try to scan the room for potential bachelors as much as possible, hoping there is someone who you find attractive. Unfortunately, you are a bit out of luck. You casually look further, but then your eyes fall onto Harry. He is standing against the wall, with a couple of other guys you know, but he is looking at you. You feel like you got caught, even though, technically you caught him looking at you. You don't have much to overthink it, however, because you quickly realize that Benjamin is one of the guys standing with Harry.

You pull Rebecca along and walk towards the guys. Benjamin shrieks when he sees you and pulls you into a hug that nearly chokes the life out of you. After pulling away, he goes and greets Rebecca. Your eyes float past Harry, who is so close to you that you can smell his perfume, but you quickly look away when you realize that, once again, his eyes were already on you.

Your chest feels tight at the knowledge that he is actively watching you, and you have to stop yourself from clenching your jaw out of the sheer stress it is giving you. Benjamin distracts you by asking if you want to go outside for a bit, and you nod, following him to the back yard.

But when you see Harry joins you, you make up an excuse that you have to go to the bathroom, and that they should just go ahead and you'll find them in a bit. The group agrees and begins walking outside, and you take it as your cue to hurry upstairs.

You enter Tyler's room, running over to his desk, where the liquor is still standing, and pour yourself another rum and coke. It is mostly rum with a splash of coke, but you really need it right now. You take a big gulp, sticking your tongue out as the bitter taste trickles down your throat.

"Hiding?"

You jump at the sudden voice sounding from behind you, and turn around to see Harry leaning against the doorframe. You take a deep breath when you realize it's just home, but then the tension settles in because it's him.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" You ask, irritated. It is mostly to mask the nerves he gives you, and Harry doesn't seem to buy into your pretending. He shrugs.

"Was trying to find a lighter. Tyler said he had one up here." He answers, looking around the room. His eyebrows raise when he sees one on Tyler's nightstand. He leans forward, holding it up in the air so you can see it, then puts it in his pocket. "What about you?"

Getting away from you, you think.

Instead of saying that, you shrug your shoulders. "Just— getting a drink."

Harry nods slowly, not entirely believing you. You stare at each other for a moment, and the heavy feeling in your stomach is beginning to shout to get out. You swallow, your risen heartbeat telling you what you are trying very, very hard to ignore.

"So..." Harry starts.

"So..."

"You and Tyler, huh?"

Your eyes widen at the words that leave Harry's mouth, and before you know it, a loud snort escapes you. You slap your hand over your mouth, shaking your head profusely.

"C'mon, you don't have to deny it. So, the moving on going easier than you thought after all, hmm?"

There is a slight condescending tone that hides between Harry's words, and it makes your smile fade away. You set down your cup at the table and stride towards him until you are right in front of him. You look up and meet his gaze.

"What? Are you trying to say that it's easier, because I wasn't that in love with Dylan, so in the end it wasn't all bad? That the drama was for nothing?" You growl, blood rising to your cheeks as you speak.

"I didn't even fucking say that—"

"No, but you thought it. If you're being a dick, just be upfront about it. Don't act all sneaky about it." You say, and Harry clenches his jaw at your remark.

"Okay, you need to get off that fucking high horse of yours. Not every fucking thing I say is a hidden insult to you, because the world doesn't fucking revolve around you." He barks at you, getting closer. His height is intimidating, but you keep standing your ground and look up at him.

"Can't blame me for thinking it. It’s not like you’ve got anything else going on your life." Your tipsy mind decides to go in for the kill and just start shooting straight insults at him. Harry laughs coldly.

"Yeah? You think that all I do is think about you?" He takes another step closer, your bodies now partly touching. You don't move an inch, mainly because you don't want to let him win, but also because you just don't want to. "You think I wake up and go to bed wondering where you are, what you're doing, who you're with?"

You don't say anything. Your nails dig into the palm of your hands as you clench your fists together. There is too much frustration in your body and too few ways to express it. Tyler's words hang in the back of your head, and they are getting harder and harder to push away. Harry leans forward, so he is on eye to eye level with you. His pupils are dilated and he looks just as irritated as you, if not more.

"Listen, darling. I meant what I said. You don't mean shit to me." Harry says slowly, his eyes never leaving yours.

You are not sure what brain cell lead you to make the decision, but in a matter of seconds, your lips are on his. There seems to be no surprise on Harry's side, because he leans into it immediately.

His tongue slips into your mouth without hesitation, and with a hand on your throat, he pushes you against the wall. All thoughts leave your mind as you kiss Harry, and 'not overthinking it' suddenly seems like the easiest thing in the world.

A sound leaves your mouth when Harry's grip on your throat tightens, and you find yourself arching into him. One of your hands is holding onto his shirt, and the other one to his hair, as you kiss the guy you hate most in the bedroom of your friend.

You feel the adamant bulge in Harry's jeans as the two of you grind against each other, in a desperate, pathetic need for relief. There should be at least a thousand different alarm bells going off in your brain, but there aren't. Not ones that give you enough strength to step out of this situation, anyway.

Your hand finds itself around Harry's throat as well, slightly catching him off guard. You take it as the perfect moment to push him onto Tyler's bed. By the time he's fallen back, you're already climbing on top of him, your hips moving against his crotch as your tongue re-enters his mouth.

It doesn't last long, though, because Harry has flipped the two of you around in no time. His hand back on your throat, and the other one's restraining both your arms above your head.

"Aw, you thought you were taking the reins? That's cute." Harry smiles patronizingly, tilting his head a bit as he scans your face. You clench your jaw, beyond irritated by the fact that he thinks he can just restrain you like this.

"Actually—"

"I don't think I told you that you could speak, now did I?" He interrupts you, his eyes raking up and down your body.

"I fucking hate you." You spit out the words, truly disgusted with yourself for being so incredibly turned on right now. You'd remind yourself to see a psychologist or something, this was not okay. Harry let out a  bitter laugh at your remark, the hand on his throat squeezing tighter as he leaned forward. It made your head spin and your panties soaking wet.

"You think I don't loathe you? Because I do. But for some reason, I can't get the image of my cock ruining your pussy out of my head." He growls, equally bothered by the tension as you had been since earlier today. "So I suggest, I fuck you right here, right now. Get it out of my system."

Those words shouldn't have made you crave for him the way you are at this very moment, but for some twisted reason it does, so you nod.

"Words, honey."

"You can fuck me," You say, looking him in the eyes. "but I still hate your guts."

"Right back at ya, sweetheart. Now, take off your panties, gotta be quick."

With that said, Harry's hand leaves your throat, and he got up from the bed. You do as he said as he closes and locks the bedroom door. You are bare and ready for him by the time he turns around, and the smirk on his face makes you realize how much he is relishing in the idea of it.

"No foreplay, let's get this over with." You say, glaring at his smug face. Harry looks down at your sopping wet cunt, cocking an eyebrow at you.

"Not that you'd need it. Sole sight of me got you so soaked, huh?" He taunts, crawling up on the bed and climbing over you. He leans back a bit, grinning as you unbuckle his pants and mutter profanities aimed at him under your breath.

When you pull down his briefs, you have to actively stop yourself from widening your eyes. That is going to hurt. It is a prospect you are looking forward to a little too much.

You lean back, watching Harry stroke himself as he observes your wet hole. As if reading his mind, you tell him: "I'm clean, and on birth control." 

"Y'telling me you want it bare?" He asks, and you shrug your shoulders. Harry shakes his head, chuckling at your nonchalance. Then, without a word of warning, he pushes himself into you.

"Dirty fucking girl... just wants to feel it all." He says, pulling about almost all the way before thrusting into you again. You shriek from the heavy mix of pain and pleasure it causes you, so much so that Harry has to cover your mouth with his hand.

"You need to keep quiet if you wanna come." He growls, trying to sound irritated, but you can tell he is enjoying himself too much to really feign annoyance. You watch as he finds a rhythm that drives the both of you crazy, closing his eyes as he takes in the great feeling of it all. Your hands find your clit and automatically begin to rub in circles as you listen to the small sounds of pleasure that leave Harry's mouth while he drives himself into you over and over again.

Opening his eyes, he arrogantly smirks at the sight of you getting worked up because of him. He leans forward, his free hand finding your breasts and groping them harshly. A stifled moan leaves your mouth at the feel of his sensitive yet hard touch.

"Look at you, hmm?" He taunts. "One minute you tell me you hate me, and the next you're begging me to fill you up with my bare cock."

Since you can't respond to his teasing, you decide to do the next best thing, bite on his fingers. Harry's hand shoots away from you, looking shocked for the entirety of one second before he's back on track. Then, he laughs.

"Oh, you are a fucking brat..." His hoarse voice mumbles, pulling his cock out of you.

In a flash of a moment, you are turned around onto your belly. Harry scoots your hips up, lining himself up with you again. You use your arms to try and get on all fours, steadying yourself, but you fall face first back onto the mattress as Harry grabs your arms and puts them behind your back. He holds them restrained, his other hand on your hip as he pushes himself back into you.

A muffled moan leaves your mouth as Harry practically screws you into the mattress. His pace is immediately fast, leaving no time for you to take a breath or even think about what he is doing. Your mind gets a bit fuzzy, and you aren't sure whether it is the sex or the alcohol, but either way you are in a different universe right now.

"Biting my finger, thinking you can catch me off guard with the pain. Well, guess what, I like the pain." He says, and you yell when his hand forcefully connects with your ass cheek. You still feel the sting of it when he slaps on your other cheek too, you whimper at the pain, ashamed to admit how much closer it has brought you to your orgasm already. "And so do you, apparently."

"Fuck— I'm..." you try to tell him, but it is hard with your face duh into the sheets and your brain all fucked out from his dick hammering into you.

"I know, I can feel you clenching around me." Harry assures you, then fucks into you harder. The sound of skin slapping against each other takes over the room, accompanied by your increasingly loud moans.

"You are so fucking predictable, falling apart around my cock. Knew you wanted it." Harry holds your hips steady with his hands, and your arch your back for him to hit a special spot.

"Just— this. once." You clarify, hoping Harry has caught your words.

"Hmm, we'll see about that. But fine, just this once, come for me then. Put me away wet." You can hear the grin in his voice, and it is precisely what makes you fall apart around him. With a string of curses and repeats of his name, the euphoric release washes over you.

Harry's grip on your wrists tightens, his fingernails digging into your skin. Slowly but surely, his thrusts become sloppier, and soon enough you hear a groan. His hips still as he comes inside you, filling you up with his seed.

You clench around his cock a few times more as he comes, the idea of his sperm inside you making you hornier than it should. It doesn't go unnoticed by Harry, as he curses under his breath at the feeling of your walls tightening around his cock.

After managing to catch your breath, Harry carefully pulls himself out of you. A whimper escapes you, not satisfied with the fact that you now feel empty.

"Don't pout, I filled you up just nice." He says as he turns you around so you are laying on your back. Your eyes meet his, and the reality of what you have done begins to sink in.

Oh my god, you just had sex with Harry.

Your hands fly over your face, shaking your head as you let out a shameful groan. You move your hands down a bit, so it covers everything but your forehead and eyes, and you observe Harry leaning down to grab your panties. You reach your hand out to take them from Harry, but he looks you dead in the eyes and stuffs them into his pocket.

"What are you doing?" You ask in a warning tone. He shrugs, waltzing towards the bedroom door and unlocking it. "Give me back my panties!"

"No, that's okay." Harry denies your request in the most casual way, turning around to look at you. "I'll hold onto them, for safekeeping."

"Harry!" You exclaim in frustration as he walks out the door. You quickly get off the bed, and follow him. He turns around, hand still in his pocket.

"Yeah, that definitely sounded less annoying when you were coming around my—" You intercept his stupid ass before he has the chance to finish his sentence, slapping your hand over his mouth. The sudden proximity makes your stomach tense up, but you keep a stoic face.

"I fucking despise you." You say lowly, glaring him down. You feel him grinning against your hand, but you ignore it as you let him go and walk towards the bathroom at the end of the hallway. When Harry calls out your name, your body automatically stills. When you turn to look at him, that exact devilish grin coats his face just right.

"What?" You ask, a slight furrow between your brows as you stare at him.

"You smudged your mascara a bit." He gestures towards his face, referencing to your own under eyes. You say nothing, merely flipping him off as you enter the bathroom. Upon taking a look in the mirror, your eyes widen.

Your mascara is indeed smudged, and not a little bit. There are lines of multiple mascara filled tears that streamed down the side of your face. The weird thing is, you don't even remember tearing up. But it is there, right in front of you, the proof of what you did. The mascara around your eyes, his cum dripping from your cunt.

You sit down on the toilet, taking a deep sigh. You cover your face with your hands once again, this time letting out a frustrated shriek. And you realize that—out of all of this—the worst thing is maybe not the fact that you had sex with Harry and that the proof of it is on and in your body. No, the icing on the cake is that Harry himself has the other proof in his fucking pocket right now.

Shit.

[dollfacefantasy]

Hey girly, love ur writing!!! could you do a leon x fem reader and they are doing the deed and there are other people there are they are tryna stay quiet 🤭🤭 like i lowk imagine leon being kinda needy but idk! thank u girl!!

thank you so much and ofc, here's a little drabble for this <3

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, exhibitionism (someone else in the room)

"Leon. Be quiet. He's gonna wake up," you whine, taking extra care to keep your voice lowered.

"I'm trying, baby. Not my fault you're so fucking tight," he murmurs against the shell of your ear.

You had picked up your boyfriend and his friend Chris from the airport earlier that day. It was a long drive. Apparently their sectors of the government didn't have the competence to drop them a little bit closer to where you lived. You had insisted on just driving through the night, but Leon and Chris were exhausted. They wanted to stretch out on a bed and pass out for the night. Even if the hotel you'd come across only had one available room left.

You feel another moan about to seep from Leon's lips. In an effort to prevent this, you dig your nails into his forearm which was over your chest. His hand rested on your throat, giving him leverage to continue plowing into you from behind.

The little crescents do nothing to silence him and only serve to turn his low pitched moan into a needy whine.

"Leon, shut up!" you whimper.

Your eyes are locked on Chris as your boyfriend ruts into you. His hips smack against your ass, but he's not going fast enough to make any disturbing noise.

"Hush, honey, he sleeps like a fucking rock, trust me," he whispers.

He aims to reassure you with some wet kisses behind your ear. You knew this was wrong and that you should've protested. If Chris did wake up, you'd be humiliated and guilty. But fuck, he just felt so good.

His cock keeps sliding into your soaked cunt just right. Each stroke hits another mark of pleasure. It was a miracle you were able to keep some semblance of composure. To keep yourself quiet, you clutch the blankets in your fists though, so hard it nearly pains you. Leon didn't have the same discipline. This entire time his panting and whimpering drips right into your ear. The noises were among your favorites in the world, always guranteed to make you squirm.

"That's it. That's a good girl," he coos upon hearing no further protests, "Just relax for me, babydoll."

The thought was a persuasive one. You could feel yourself beginning to melt into the crisp hotel sheets just like how you would in your own bed at home. Half of your face presses against the pillow case. His hips never stop moving beneath the blankets. He couldn't get enough of your velvety warmth wrapped around him.

As you feel yourself starting to build to that sweet release, you see Chris start to shift. Your eyes had been locked on him the whole time, preparing for this exact scenario. Panic floods your mind. Had he been awake since the beginning? Had he been watching? Was he pissed?

Your heart pounds even harder against your ribcage as your fingers release the blanket and return to his arm.

"Leon!" you gasp.

He can tell from the infliction in your tone that it's not a gasp of ecstasy. His thrusts come to a screeching halt. His eyes that were half-lidded with a combination of lust and fatigue open a little more. He spots the same movement you did.

Fairly certain it was some usual tossing and turning, he pulls you closer to his chest and nuzzles the side of your head.

"Stay quiet, babe. We're gonna be fine," he whispers even quieter than before.

The two of you do exactly that. You stay still and silent. It was kind of nice, the calm feeling of just being full without any sparks of pleasure. But Leons arm begins to move.

Your eyes dart down and watch his limb slither below your t-shirt and up to your breast, taking one of the warm mounds in his hand. He just rests it there as the both of you continue to pretend to sleep as if he needed to feel more of you. Being buried inside of you just wasn't enough to sate his desire.

As soon as Chris has settled facing the opposite direction and you're both confident he's fast asleep, Leon begins pumping his hips again. And with the return of the movement, comes the return of his noises. He grunts, groans, mewls. Anything he needs to in order to spur on his own release.

You just let him this time without any complaints, figuring he may finish and get you to finish a bit faster with the lack of bickering.

His cock begins to pulse within you. As his thrusts get sloppier and a bit more erratic, you know the end is near. Your hand delves down between your legs, pads of your fingers rubbing at your clit a little to give yourself that extra friction needed to join him.

He cums first. His hips stop, pelvis flush against your backside. At first, you're sure he's gonna wake someone. His noises are only a little louder, but they're much more frequent. You feel him spill every drop within you as he shoots rope after rope. You're not far behind and cum a few seconds later. Your legs twitch as your walls clamp down around his already sensitive length, drawing more needy sound from him.

While the two of you come down, he murmurs into your ear. His words are all breathy from the bliss that had just entered his system.

"Christ, angel. So perfect for me," he says with a small kiss to your head.

You reciprocate the affection, but some anxiety still lingers within you.

"You really think he didn't hear?" you ask, looking up into his eyes for reassurance.

"No way. We're clear," he says, granting your wish before grinning at you, "Besides, if he did, I'm sure he'd enjoy the show."

Your eyes widen at his little clip and you lightly pinch his bicep. "Shut up. For real this time," you tease.

"You got it, boss," he says, planting one more kiss on your lips.

You roll your eyes but still get comfy in bed as he pulls out and fixes the two of you. After falling back into position, it's not hard to fall asleep. You fit against each other perfectly. His chest is so warm against your back. Everything just feels right, especially since you were sure you'd just pulled off the heist of the century.

You fall asleep on cloud nine but are quickly brought back to reality the next morning when the three of you check out. You're carrying your bags out while Chris holds the door for you. Leon's putting things in the trunk already, eager to get home and have some true alone time with you.

As far as you knew, you were in the clear. That was until Chris gave the room one last glace and then turned his gaze to you.

"The next set of people better hope they clean the sheets really well," he says with a teasing smile.

[pedge-page]

Closer

sub/Himbo!Joel Miller x F!Reader

can be read as a follow up to Safe or standalone

Summary: you give Joel exactly what you both want, and he feels closer to you than ever before.

Warnings: Sub!Joel, Himbo!Joel, Mommy kink, Breeding Kink, unprotected sex, creampie, cum eating, face riding, oral F! receiving, premature ejaculation, preg, Joel gets called puppy

18+ ONLY

- - - -

He’s barely thrusting in and out any more. Just pathetic grinding and unrhythmic humps with pathetic whines and unrhythmic grunts.

You squeeze the fat around his hips, your legs dangling off to each of his sides. His head tucked low with his sweaty forehead resting atop your breasts his eyes remained glued to the spot where he disappears into your sopping cunt. where the two of you are Joined. Connected. Close.

He lets out a harsh gasp. “I made—mmmmffff—Mommy my cum dump,” he hums proudly. His brows suddenly furrow in concentration when your warm walls tighten.

"Where did you learn that? Who said that?"

His hips slow their pace. Eyes refusing to find yours after such a bold statement. Embarassment washes over him. “Um... Tommy said... you were like my cum dump... because I keep dumping my load inside you.” Joel stills entirely, the downward cast of his face giving way to his guilty conscious.

You squish his cheeks and make him look at you like a grown man. There’s such a thrill buried inside you when he perks up at direct eye contact from you, even when you're scolding him, like you were granting him such luxuries to be acknowledged. “Don't listen to Tommy. Mommy tells you what you need to know.” 

He nods obediently, picking up his frantic thrusts again with renewed security.

Your nails claw against his broad, sun speckled back. The reminder of his muscled form doesnt deter your control over him in the slightest. and he doesn't mind surrendering to you entirely either.

His harsh pants fan across your throat, pulling him closer in to your warm embrace. Your body bounces back and forth with each rock of his cock plunging into you. Soft lips kissing away the sweat under your jaw. You can feel the smile crinkle around his cheeks pressing against your shoulder. Joel feels so capable yet so protected with you. He never wants to leave your comfort.

You can tell from the high pitched puppy noises he’s making mixed with the swell of his cock reaching deeper inside your pussy that he’s getting close. Working to secure yet another generous load of his seed inside you.

“Hey,” you coo, kissing his forehead before bringing his eyes to meet yours. God, he looked so perfect like this—all lost and dazed, not a thought behind those eyes except Mommy’s cunt, Mommy’s pussy, MommyMommyMommy. He’s half listening, so pussy whipped out of his mind, but you know he’s going to love your next words:

 “We're gonna have a baby."

A fat grin spreads over his entire face before his lips are parting in an “o,” slamming into you one last time balls deep. He’s so excited that he cums. His movement stops altogether, groaning with an eye rolling orgasm, spilling his hot creamy spend into your already fertilized womb.

You laugh at him. “Happy, you're making me a real Mommy?”

"Because—because I put my cum inside mommy!"

"Yes sweetie.” yours lips find his, sucking away his pants. "And you're gonna be a Daddy."

"I did—“ he gasps loudly, trying to talk and catch his breath—“I did a good job.” He’s wrecked but trying so hard to recognize the reward of his hard work. The thing you had been promising him for ages finally come to fruition and its because of him. He should be proud. He knows you’re proud.

"Baby will grow better if you keep putting more in,” you tease, hands creeping over his ass and pushing him further inside you, forcing his seed to your cervix.

“Mommy,” he whines, knees rutting forward so he’s grinding against your mound. You can feel each ripple of his glutes flexing underneath your fingertips. 

“Are you being selfish? Doesn’t Mommy get to cum?”

He nods, fearful that you would think he’s leaving you out. Even if he would forget to please you, Joel’s only purpose is to please you, fulfill your needs and empty his balls into you and breed. Only in this case, he's the livestock sperm-bank to your nurturing and greedy will.

“Roll over.”

He switches positions so fast, the back of his head slamming into the pillow, body jittery with excitement. He only briefly misses your warm cunt, worried over the cum that is still there.

“Good puppy boy,” you praise.

If Joel had a tail, it would be sprained from how hard he’s wagging.

You climb atop Joel's face. 

He immediately sees the pearly drops of his cum starting to seep out of from your slit. “No! No no Mommy it's leaving your pussy!"

You pin his wrists down with your knees, and he almost cries at the tortured sight of it slowly dripping from your throbbing cunt, down your folds and on to his chin.

"Then you'll put more in. Shhh. It's okay, don't panic. You’ll have more cum to put in me.”

Joel steadies his breathing as you stroke soothingly over his scruffy cheek. He knows you'll take more and more from him as you please, but he really needs to let this go if that's what you command. you know better than he does, afterall.

Your thumb and finger clench his cheeks tightly, wakening him to your attention. 

“But it's my decision. I decide what to do with you cum. Your body. Your cock. I decide what's best for you."

He nods, mouth muffled as you sink yourself onto his face. He eagerly laps at his messy seed from you like honey straight from the hive. He gets lost in it, the salty thick taste invading his buds, humming with his pretty lashes closed. His gentle hands, all rough on the exterior but so loving with intent, slide up along your middle until he's gently splayed a palm over your lower tummy, dreaming, wondering, hoping, excited to feel it swell so soon knowing he put a child in you. The room is so quiet. Intimate just between the two of you. Your fingers dance over his, layered on top and rolling each roll of your pussy onto his face. His eyes open and you smile warmly at him. You feel his breath hitch at the sight of you, so enthralled to be so much closer to mommy, tied together, physically and emotionally, than ever before.

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[kysslasher]

KINKTOBER DAY 9:: mirrors— Ichigo kurosaki

WARNING:: mirror sex, marking, scratching, manhandling, praise/degradation ooc!ichigo(?)

SUMMARY:: after a day of shopping you decide to try on a few new outfits and a bit of lingerie you bought.

The sound of your doorknob twisting and keys jiggling you look up from your phone as you lay on the couch, after hours of straining his body Suna just simply knows he couldn't wait to come home to you.

He was a bit frustrated, work was feeling more like a chore, and the more trainings that took place the less ichigo got to see you. The sound of his shoes thumping at the 'welcome' mat and his keys being set in the key dish.

A small sigh emitted from his lips, walking further into your home ichigo found you lying stomach down on the couch but your head turned in curiosity of his arrival.

"Hey, how was training? You look tired" you say, turning over on your side to make room on the cushions for the man. "It was a fine practice but I'm stressed is all" he groaned sitting down on the end of the couch where your feet rested.

"What happened?" You ask, completely shifting your attention towards your boyfriend. "It's like, everytime we're training they want harder lessons and less time for us to have breaks. On top of that our schedules are so damn packed I barely get to see you" he sighs the utter frustration in the puff of air coming past his lips makes your chest hurt.

sitting up completely you crawl over to his end, straddle him, tainting his view of the TV "I'm here now, just do what you want to do while I am " you look him in his eyes with no hint of restraint in your eyes that comes with the statement.

Completely disregarding his tired state he rubs your thighs humming at the idea. Your hands wrapped around his neck you brush your nose against his, his large palms now gripping at your plush thighs, a bulge growing in his pants at the thought of doing what he wants with you.

Pulling at the hem of your shorts you lift your hips high enough until they are far down enough to kick them off your legs. Waiting until ichigo could strip himself of his pants as well you rid your shirt leaving you in nothing but your underwear and bra. You settle back down into his lap comfortably.

Your hips began to slowly grind into his thigh making you suck in a deep breath, ichigo closing whatever partial distance could be between the both of you, your lips clashing together tracing the others slowly pulling away as you both murmured words of pleasure.

you rocked your hips over his, feeling his erection grow with your actions. He let out a moan as he buried his face in your neck, the two of you now needily rutting against each other.

Letting out a small groan the fabric of your pants sent stimulation straight down to your core, ichigo grabbed at your hips, his nails dug into them as he pushed you down harder resulting in a small moan coming from your lips.

You felt dizzy at all the stimulation. "You really like this don't you?" He asked,pressing hot kisses into the skin of your neck. You almost whine in embarrassment but choke them down. Nodding your head ichigo gets a boyish grin to take over his lips "I bet you do" he says as his lips kiss a trail down from the corner lips to your neck.

You feel his warm tongue lick a stripe on your throat making your whimper "Ichigo-" his lips attach themselves onto your neck harshly sucking and licking the spot leaving a small red mark that would surely bruise over by the next day in the shape of blooming flowers.

Your fingers gently grasp at the hair on the back of his neck driving the orange haired man mad under you. Guiding your hips at a faster pace you could only imagine the build-up of your orgasm pooling in your underwear seeping through.

The small wet watch of precum becomes larger as your panties make friction soaking his underwear as well. The outline of his cock rubbing against your clit makes your head spin and you couldn't help but moan and grind harder against him.

"You feel so good" you whimper hearing the sticky sounds of your slick thighs rubbing together, it was messy yet the both of you were too eager chasing some form of an orgasm to care what kind of mess you make.

You look down at ichigo whose head was thrown back while he lets out the deepest groans of pleasure. His hands guiding your hips against his at a faster pace makes you choke out louder moans.

Opening his eyes at the sound of your raspy moans at the sight of you with messy hair and mascara running down your cheeks, "you looked too good" you whisper, placing one of your hands down on his lower abdomen as you feel ichigo bucked his hips into you faster.

The feeling of the fabric running against your pussy slightly burned but it felt too good to care. "Feels so good" he grumbled as the pressure began to build. The both of you chasing your orgasms he pushes your panties to the side rubbing your bare pussy against the fabric of his boxers at a fast pace that makes you whine.

You gasp feeling yourself being sent over the edge, ichigo begins to slow down but you only shake your head as you anticipate him reaching his peak. "Please keep going, I want you to cum" you moan as your nails drag against his skin leaving behind a trail of red marks.

Your needy words make his eyes roll back as he pushes your hips down, he ruts into you as he moans shamelessly. You huffed for air from your red kiss swollen lips, your head was tossed back in ecstasy, the feeling of his thighs getting you off made everything feel so much better.

The small knot in the bottom of your stomach snapping at the final buck of your hips, letting out a gasp you place a hand on Ichigo’s chest hoping he would stop pushing and pulling your hips but the small moans coming from your lips only egged him on.

Your hips twitch at overstimulation you chant his name "please- fuck" you groan as you feel your orgasm washing over you in waves yet again. "Please? I thought you were my stress reliever and you can't even grind against me without complaining" he at your form all tired out on his lap.

He didn't care.

Lifting your left thigh off of him he gently pushed you off of his lap. "You're my relief for the night, hm?" He says in less of a questioning tone and more of a matter-of-fact statement yet regardless you find yourself nodding.

Ichigo, giving you no time or space, turned you around giving him the perfect view of everything. Pushing the small of your back down as you arch your back on all fours, your chest pushed against the fabric of the couch you were met with the mirror perched up in the corner of your living room, the view of your bare body.

Heat practically traveling to your face in record time, you could see ichigo looking down at your ass, his hand rubbing gentle circles making you close your eyes, a sharp sting on your ass making your eyes shoot open as you felt his hand leave a harsh smack on your skin.

And another. Your body feeding into the pain, you could only moan at the satisfaction of his palm meeting the bare skin of your ass. "Does that feel good?" he said as you felt the harsh wet pad of his thumb rub against your aching pussy. "Yes" you whimper as you're letting out harsh huffs of air from your throat.

You clench around nothing begging for him to actually fuck you without saying a word. ichigou his knees to spread your legs more, his hand at the base of his cock that's painfully hard, rubbing it against your entrance, your hips shake at the sudden feeling making the both of you hiss.

Pushing himself inside you, you felt full to the brim like he could split you open, his hips slowly fucking into you. "Please" you beg and for what exactly? You didn't know. "You feel so fucking good" he groaned as one of his hands gripped at your ass.

The sound of skin on skin reverberated through the room, your moans are unceremoniously loud and cannot be helped, "fuck ichigo" you feel the harsh snap of his hips as he gave you no time to get used to be stuffed full of his cock.

Your arms reach back as you let out a whine wishing his brutal pace would slow down, only for him to grab both of your forearms as he pulled you in harder, "fuck" he said letting out guttural moans.

Your hips shake and you moan at every snap of his hips, the sound of your sopping wet hole makes you even more embarrassed yet you couldn't get enough. "You wanna cum?" He asked his moans getting caught in his throat yet you only nod.

"Yes- please let me cum" you beg, as his hips relentlessly snap into a spot that made your mind go completely blank, "right there" you groan making him hum "yeah? Right here?" He says as he pushes you down completely his legs caging you in, your hands grip at the cushion of the couch wanting to Barry your face and hide your loud moans.

His tip plunging in and out of you at the same spot, gasping as you feel the familiar tightening in the pit of your stomach completely release and tighten around him, his hips twitch and his thrusts become sloppy, he was close and you could tell as he fucked you through your high.

"I'm cumming" he slurred, you bite your lips holding in a loud groan as his hands press your hips down against his pelvis as he finishes inside you filling you with the warm feeling of his cum. Catching his breath he pulls out and watches his cum drip on the fabric, too high off of his own orgasm to care his thumb comes in contact with your slit rubbing his cum against your clit you hiss in sensitivity letting your thighs snap shut.

You hadn't let the embarrassment of your eyes burning into your own reflection as you got fucked sink in completely as you let the soft comfort of the couch slightly whisk you away into sleep.

[blorbocedes]

ok hear me out.... totally crazy idea.... max / lando mind games

Lando stops from where he's grinding against Max's thigh to look up hesitantly. "Hey, you're not like, mad at me from last week's radio, right? Cause Daniel was saying in the media..."

Max is broken out of his spacing out, blinking and then frowning as he registers Lando's words. "I have not spoken to Daniel." His hand curls against Lando's thigh.

Lando nods. Right. Cause it would be pretty awkward of them to be doing this if Max was mad at him. Max's thigh is a solid weight under him and his dick is missing the friction already. They're not supposed to have sex during race week so they improvise. This is basically building core strength for Lando.

"So, we're cool." Lando says nonchalantly, squeezing Max's shoulder in a friendly manner and also to balance himself, gearing himself ready to start back up. His underwear had pooled a small wet spot of precome already.

This time Max stops him. The grip on his waist tightens, stopping his hips from moving. Max holds his gaze in that intense eye contact he likes to hold, that Lando can't shy away from. "Why would we not be cool? It is, of course, your championship to win now,"

Lando's dick is so hard, it twinges in pain. To gain some leverage, he palms Max's half-hard cock through his briefs.

"Which makes it my championship to lose." Max finishes wryly.

"Don't say that." Lando mutters, ears going red, flaming downwards. Lando thumbs Max's bulbous tip to be petty, and Max digs his thumb and fingers into the soft flesh of Lando's waist, who takes the opportunity to continue rutting against him. He knows, okay, Lando knows it's a possibility even as he tells everyone he's taking it one race at a time. There's a chance. But it's also Max. And Max is the driver he rates the most, why it feels so, so rewarding to beat him. 70 points is not nothing, in 9 races, anything can happen. A single safety car can change the entire standings.

Lando grinds against Max's thigh, bare skin against harsh sensations of cotton making him feel all sorts of frayed. This entire year, he wanted to be taken seriously as a title contender and now everybody's treating like it's a done deal, causing major whiplash.

"Why not? It's true." Max says matter-of-factly, appearing unruffled even as his pupils are completely dark drowning out that ocean blue as he watches Lando's breathing get faster and his hands on Lando are practically pulling his hips forward in rhythm.

"You've got the same chance as me, mate." Lando's heart rate is speeding up. He paws at Max's dick, which is now fully erect, and jerks it off in harsh strokes. It's a nice dick, average sized on the girther end, not terrifyingly large like in porn. Very friend shaped. "It's still anybody's game."

By anybody he means just the two of them. But then again, Max knows that too.

"I can only outdrive the car. You have the fastest car. 9 perfect races. Vettel's done it before," The 'I've done it' goes unsaid but heard regardless. "It's in your hands now."

The only trophy in Lando's hands right now is attached to Max. Fuck you, Lando thinks. When he was first starting to jerk off as a hormonal teenager, he was scared he was doing it so much he would rip it straight off. He imagines ripping it off Max, blood spurting everywhere, misses the race, the championship is secured. He doesn't actually want to do that. He imagines getting on his knees, and taking Max's length in its entirety in his mouth - the way he can never quite manage in real life - look up at him, recently as heavenly light shines on him. The pressure is building in the pit of Lando's stomach, he's thinking every thought that crosses his head to find the one that pushes him over the edge into sweet release.

"When you're in the fastest car, everything below first in underperforming." Max is rolling his own hips now too, voice more breathy.

"You think I don't fucking know that?" Lando snaps, emotional regulation out of bounds, as if he isn't very well aware of the mountain to climb, the ones Max has scaled and back. They're all fucking competitors. Second place is first loser.

Max pulls Lando close, their dicks finally, finally making contact through two thin layers of cotton. Still, he can feel the weight, the shape of it under him and it feels obscene. Like pretend sex, instead of the real thing. The touch feels electrifying, even as it's not enough. They're in a kind of fucked up embrace, hips moving in tandem. Max pats Lando's back reassuringly, going down to his spine.

"Come on. We can be World Champion, Lando." His words are mocking, but they do it for Lando who buries his groan into Max's neck, feeling his orgasm being pulled out from him.

Max doesn't let him relish in the afterglow, wastes no time in taking Lando's hand and pulling it down his pants and jerks himself off. He bites Lando's shoulder as he finishes, making Lando twitch, spilling over both of their hands.

Finally, Lando flops over him on the sofa, both of them sharing wet patches on the front of their underwear. When the high from the orgasm subsides, the shame of rubbing one out against his main rival's leg and wanting his approval creeps in.

9 perfect races swims in his head.

He knows Max will do everything in his power to win, it just doesn't occur to him he's one of those things too.

[puppyslutposting]

"Yeah of course I can be trusted to house-sit for you while you're on your business trip! :3"

I watch you pull out of the driveway, waving to you from the porch. As soon as your car is completely out of sight, I bolt inside and upstairs to your room. Now that I'm finally alone, I can go full puppy mode. And I already know just what I want to do... After all, I've had the biggest crush on you for a long time now. We're constantly flirting and teasing each other when we hang out, but neither of us has the courage to take it further. You know about all of my kinks, and you constantly tease me about them. You've even called me "good boy" before, which got me so wet I had to excuse myself. All of this sexual tension has been really getting to me, and I know exactly how to let off some steam...

I walk over to your dirty clothes hamper. There's a black sweatshirt haphazardly draped over the rim. I snatch it up and immediately put it up to my face, inhaling deeply. "Fuck..." I think to myself. "It smells just like them. I want them so badly. I NEED them, and they don't even know it. I just wish they would fuck me..." As I hold the cloth up to my face and sniff it lustfully, I slip a hand down my pants. I can feel I'm already pretty damn wet just from your smell, and realizing my own desperation only makes me hornier.

I throw the sweatshirt onto your bed and start stripping, throwing my clothes wherever with little regard. Once I'm fully nude, I take a second to just explore my body with my hands. I feel up my breasts and nipples, my hips, my face, and my thighs, taking note of how sensitive I am. Every touch leaves me desiring more, until I can't take it and I crawl into your bed.

I don't fully have a plan at this point, I just know I need to masturbate. Specifically while inhaling your addictive scent. I lay on my back and grab your sweatshirt once again, throwing it over my face. Then, I spread my legs open and start rubbing myself. My needy t-dick twitches wildly between my pointer and middle finger as I slide them up and down my wet vulva. I moan helplessly as your scent drives me into a heat, making more sensitive and needy than I've ever been before. Rubbing isn't enough anymore, I feel like I need to fuck you. I look around, desperate for something to slide my t-dick on, and then I spot it. The teddy bear I gave you for your birthday last year, sitting up in bed between your pillows. Under normal circumstances, I would have been absolutely flattered that you kept it in bed with you all this time, but in my current state I don't even consider it. I snatch it up and roll on top of it, mounting it like the horny mutt I am.

It's been about 30 minutes at this point. I'm a sweaty, panting, drooling mess. My face is shoved into your musky shirt and Im gripping the plush tight while I rut against it needily. I'm so focused on trying to cum, that I don't even hear my phone buzzing. I'm completely in a trance, my entire mind and body only wanting a release. I don't hear the car pull up in the driveway, or the front door opening, or your footsteps coming up the stairs. Only once you come into the room and start talking do I snap out of my trance.

"Hey, sorry, I forgot my-" Your words are cut short. You're shocked by what you're seeing, but you can't look away. My eyes grow wide and my face goes bright red with embarrassment as I try to cover my exposed parts. I stammer over my words, trying to cough up an explanation, but even I know there's no way out of this. I gulp nervously.

You feel your pants getting tight. You know you should be upset, but you can't help but to find it incredibly arousing that I would be so horny just by your smell alone that I would do something like this. But you're also so glad that there's finally a reason to break the sexual tension between us, and you can't help but to smirk mischievously. This is just too perfect.

"I think I'm going to have to teach you a lesson for this, mutt.~ You're such a bad puppy... Present your pussy to me. Now." You say, slipping off your tie and starting to undress. Your mischievous grin grows more and more as you think about all of the perverted things you'll be able to do to me now that you have me right where you want me.

Braindead and desperate for your touch, I immediately obey. After all, good boys do as they're told...~

[delopsia]

if heaven's a moment | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 16,000 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, alpha! Rhett, omega! Reader. Size kink, forbidden love (ft. a weak excuse for the forbidden part. we're here for ✨vibes✨, not logic), food, running away, biting, mating cycles/heat, ruts, mentions of breeding (but no implication of children/anything of that nature), first times together, knotting, the worst epilogue known to man. Brief Summary: At one point, you suppose that you did. Marrying rich sounded like a wonderful idea when the subject was brought up ten years ago. But you just had to run right into the Abbott family's youngest son, the one who had nothing but a black horse, a couple of flannels, and a championship rodeo buckle to his name. A new ranch hand, with his scruffy smile and the kindest hands you've ever known. 

There are too many cars in this damn driveway. 

Scratch that, too many fucking alphas. With their bright, gaudy outfits and stupid, overapplied pheromone colognes that do nothing but give you a chemical-induced migraine. If those claims about luring in potential mates are true, then you must be an outlier because you've yet to find yourself head over heels for a man based on his scent alone. 

A warmth greets your nose; something tied between leather and the embers of a roaring campfire, a hint of smokiness lurking underneath it all. Just a hint of it at first, swirling around your head like a daydream and weakening your knees, growing stronger with every step toward this old barn. 

...on second thought.

The barn door opens with a groan, cutting through the silence and echoing up toward the house. Your eyes dart toward the back porch, still flocked full of mingling bodies in their finest courting attire, chatting it up like they haven't had an intriguing conversation in years. Whether or not someone heard that is anyone's guess, but nobody is interested enough to look in your direction.

Thank god because you don't have a single explanation for why you're slipping into the storage barn at ten o'clock at night. 

It's too dark to see where you're going, but you've walked this path so many times that you can do it with your eyes closed. Drifting around the corner. Past the four-wheeler that hasn't run since last autumn. Through the clearing that will soon be cluttered with seasonal equipment once the hands finish tearing out the brush that has taken over the south pasture. They'll promise it's gone for good, but it'll be sprouting again come spring, and the cycle will repeat, just as it always has. 

Clink.

Clink.

Clink.

The room spins. A weight appears on your back, forcing you face down into a bale of hay. The straw prickles your cheek, but it's nothing compared to the sandpaper texture that scratches the back of your neck. The coarse stubble of someone's recently shaven face.  

A cold nose brushes against your nape. 

"Hey!" You squeal, foot blindly kicking at a jean-clad leg, but he just does it again, blissfully unaware of the goose bumps rushing across your skin.

Arms curl around your waist. "What's the matter, sweet thing?" Muttered into your ear, as if there's a risk of someone overhearing.

"Your nose is cold!" And you've got just enough leverage to turn your head to the side, nipping at his jaw. Softly tugging at his skin with your teeth, ticklish little motions that have Rhett laughing, shifting to stand up straight, as if that has ever helped him escape your reign of terror. 

"'m sorry," that nose bumps into your forehead, clumsy, "I only finished up a little bit ago."

Even in the dark, you can tell that he's still clad in those leather chaps, dirty from a long day in the fields and on the back of his horse. This close, they'll surely leave behind a noticeable grime on your white clothes, but you can't bring yourself to care. This is worth the stress of getting your clothes into the washer before anyone can see the stains.

It only takes the slightest nudge for him to reel back, allowing you to stand straight and twist in his embrace. Pale moonlight peeks through the holes in the roof, bathing the right side of his face. Unveiling the smile that upturns the corners of his eyes and the fading cut in his bottom lip, split open in a bar fight this past Sunday.

"They're working you that hard?" Tilting your head to the side, curious. Peak season isn't for another three weeks. What gives? 

"Only on party nights," Rhett chuckles, and he's just close enough for you to feel it rumbling in his chest like thunder. "How else are your folks supposed to tell them rich fellas that y' come from a good ranchin' family?"

Your brows furrow. "I didn't know that I came with a dowry."

It's easy. Laughing with him and falling into his big, warm chest, wrapped up in those arms that ought to have been chiseled from stone for you and you alone. The scruff of his cheek scratches your skin as he snuggles you impossibly closer. Your nose bumping into his neck, just below the scent gland lurking there.

The voice in the back of your head wonders if you'll ever get to enjoy the privilege of him scenting you. Dipping his head down to rub the barely visible glands against you, not stopping until you smell just like him. The closest one can get to saying 'mine' without tattooing it in red across someone's forehead.

"So which of them alphas ya pickin'?" There's that solemn tone again, low and heavy as if the words are too much for his tongue to lift.

And you know that you shouldn't say this; it's only going to make this harder than it needs to be, but it slips out of you, anyway. "The one that's standing in front of me."

There's a sourness in the air. Barely there, but you're so close that it's impossible not to catch the switch, chased by the falter of a smile. 

Oh, why does he have to look at you that way? Deep-set frown and lowered eyes, can hardly bring himself to meet your gaze, as if this will all fall apart the moment that he does. But you're still here, even if it's for a fixed amount of time. You can't have him forever, but you can until your heat decides to set in, whenever that may be. 

"We'd have to flee the state even for a chance of that workin'," he's talking under his breath like it's a thought he didn't intend to make it past his mouth. But you hear it loud and clear. 

 "Maybe..." Feigning playfulness, if only to ignore the sour twist of your belly. "But if you ever decide that you'd like to start running, you know where to find me." 

If only it worked like that. You'd love to live a life so simple that he could run up to your window and steal you away on a random midnight. Off to live your own happily ever after, never to be seen again. 

Rhett tilts his head forward, then off to the side, those pretty blue eyes never quite leaving yours. 

It's like knowing that you're allergic to something and biting into it anyway, but you just can't help it. There are only so many times that you'll get to do this, and the number is shrinking by the minute. Nuzzling the side of your head against his neck and lower jaw, dancing painfully close to the glands on his neck, a faint sheen the only thing to indicate their presence. Rhett's so big that you could spend all day rubbing yourself against him like a cat, always able to find a spot on him that isn't drowning in the warm scent that you call your own. 

Out of nowhere, a sharp puff of air bursts out of him. Some little animalistic noise that you only ever hear when you're doing this, his nose nuzzling your temple as he makes that noise again. The arms around you pull a little tighter as if there was any space left between your bodies to begin with. 

A truck engine roars to life. Obnoxious. 

Rhett jolts, his head spinning toward the door you came through, stiff like some kind of well-trained guard dog. In a sense, you suppose that's exactly what he is, considering all of those bar fights with unruly alphas who could only see you as an easy piece of meat. 

"Sounds like some of 'em are gettin' ready to leave," he concludes after a moment, and he doesn't need to speak for you to know what he intends to say next. He's got to take you back to the house before someone notices you're missing. 

You can't help the whine that rolls out of you, pitchy and drawn out. This whole situation is so unfair; you just got here a few minutes ago! Why do you have to go back inside and parade yourself to men and women that you couldn't give a damn about? All because you were unfortunate enough to be born as some dumb omega. 

"Naw, don't get all sad on me," Rhett mutters, and you're not entirely sure when he moved, but one of his hands has risen to curl around your cheek, coarse thumb stroking the skin there. "I'll come to your window, a'ight?"

"Rhett!" Your leg twitches, kicking against his side. Pulling hard on his hair, thighs involuntarily fluttering around his head. It's the most you can do with this pillow wedged beneath the small of your back. Open and on display for him and his hungry mouth.

"Shhh," but he can hardly deny himself the simple pleasure of pausing to drag his tongue in a loose circle just to feel you squirm. "Don't want us gettin' caught, do ya darlin'?"

Whining, your head thrashes back and forth. There's a 'no' on the tip of your tongue, but you just can't get it out—two little letters trapped in your wide open mouth. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he's forcing your legs up over his shoulders, oversized hands spanning out against the outside of your thighs, keeping you put.

"Won't be able to eat this sweet little pussy if your folks find out," Rhett just can't quit talking. Babbling as if he's completely and utterly lost himself in this, in you. "Fuck, can y' imagine the look on their faces?"

You're not sure if it's the words themselves or the vibration of his voice against your clit, but something about it has a bolt of lightning jumping up your spine. Rattling a whine out of your throat, hardly stifled by the teeth that sink into your bottom lip, your futile attempt at keeping yourself quiet. 

"Comin' in and seein' a ranch hand between your legs, runnin' my tongue up your pussy jus' like..." and he draws just far back enough for you to see the way his tongue pokes out of his mouth as he begins to lick a fat stripe up your cunt. "This."

And your back is rising up off the bed, greedily chasing the burning heat of his mouth, as if even a second of no contact might break you into two. The beat of your heart spurred on by the sloppy, wet noises that punctuate his every movement. Half of it isn't even from you; no, it's from him drooling into you like a goddamn dog. 

There's so much of it, running down your thighs and into your sheets, sure to leave a spot that you'll struggle to make an excuse for. It's a problem that you should fuss at him over, chide him for making such a mess, but he's guiding a hand between your legs, two thick fingers nudging at your entrance, and you just can't bring yourself to say anything. 

It's impossible to be upset when he's got you so wet that you don't need to pause for lube, gliding into you with dazzling ease. So, so much bigger than your own touch, such a sudden stretch that you catch the hint of an ache as they bottom out. More. You haven't even gotten used to this yet, and yet you want more. 

Abrupt, Rhett's pointed tongue dances around your clit, fingers crooking upward, seeking a special little spot. "Can't market ya as an innocent little omega if they know a man like me 's been eatin' your pussy for years."

If only he knew how often you think about that. 

The memories that flood your mind every time you've been put in a fancy restaurant to be wined and dined by some well-dressed know-it-all, intrigued by the false purity he saw in your eyes. How it's not the small talk that has you fiddling with your fork, but instead caused by the crystal clear image of a cowboy who had gotten on his knees for you earlier that morning, eating you alive, much like how he is now. 

And the perpetual, hopeless fantasy of that same cowboy barging in and taking you for his own, fed up with this sick game you've been forced to play together. All because you were born an omega, so rare that the wealthy have begun to see you as a status symbol. 

Sparkles dance in your vision, glittering like fireworks. Course fingertips spiral into a little cluster of nerves, in perfect sync with the tongue still working around your clit. The invisible flames of a wildfire ignite, heat coiling between your parted thighs and flushing up your chest. Fuck, fuck, and the room is spinning around you, hands tightening in Rhett's hair as if there's a risk of being blown away. 

"Rhett, I'm—"

"God, y' taste so fuckin' good," mindlessly babbling, but those eyes are peeling open, the corners of them wrinkling with a cocky grin. "Y' gonna cum?"

"Uhuh," frantically nodding, the best that you can without looking away from him and this. The sight of him between your shivering thighs, legs propped over his broad shoulders, fits so perfectly that your heart skips a beat. That coil is winding tighter and tighter in your lower belly, body stiffening as his tongue keeps working you over, loud and sloppy and out of sync with the fingers working inside of you. 

His chuckle has your foot kicking against his back, a barely muffled whimper slipping out of your throat. "Come on then," a third finger abruptly joins, mouth sucking harshly on your clit. Lightning jumps up your spine, arching up off the pillow. "Give it to me, sweet thing."

And that's all it takes to have you clamping a trembling hand over your mouth, cumming without further warning. Crying out into your palm as your vision goes white, heart racing in your chest, spinning out of control. Feels as if you've been thrust into the clouds, soaring among them for a few fleeting moments.

The hand remaining on your thigh is what draws you back down into reality. 

Or maybe it's the sudden discomfort of emptiness as Rhett draws his drenched fingers out of your cunt, sitting up on his haunches, obscenely shiny chin catching in the light. The pillow pulls out from beneath your hips, and it's not until you feel the rush of relief that you realize there was a strain in your lower back.

The corner of Rhett's mouth lifts, the mattress dipping as he climbs up next to you. "Reckon I wore ya out." Those jeans still unfairly cling to his hips, a little too dirty to be allowed in your bed, but you don't have the luxury or the will to complain.

Certainly not when he's settling down, an arm draping across your belly, very nearly distracting you from the scent in the air. His usual leathery scent, mixed with something a little bit sweet, a little bit warm, and entirely you. 

"For now," you croak after a moment. The simple motion of shifting to lay on your side has the room rolling again, like some kind of fucked up hamster ball. 

On its own selfish volition, your hand begins to wander. Gliding up Rhett's naked chest, feeling the groove of muscle and roaming over the old tattoo lurking just below his right collarbone. It's almost strange to think of how it was brand new when you first met him, so fresh that he'd yelped when you ran straight into each other.

You shouldn't allow it, but you can't resist wandering down his belly, exploring the soft muscles of his belly, only stopped by the elastic waistband peeking out from below his pants. It's impossible to miss the bulge tenting his jeans, such a sight that it almost makes his obnoxiously large belt buckle look averagely sized.

You wish you were as familiar with his body as he is yours.

"It ain't that I don't want ya too," Rhett must be able to read minds because he's already jumping onto your train of thought, "'m still worried I might..."

Lose control. You know. This conversation seems to arise every time you have a little fun together. The dangers of an alpha who gets too carried away and leaves behind too much evidence of your private rendezvous. 

"What if that's what I want?" You say it so firmly. Confident. 

You want him and everything that comes with him. The Abbott name, the not-so-glamourous life of being mated or even married to a man like him. Hell, you want the dirt that tracks in on his boots, the stench of sweat that clings to him after a long day at work, and the horse he's dragged to three different ranches so far. No other mare will do. Only his. 

"'s what I want, too," his hand curls around yours, delicately guiding it up to his chest, where he can crane his head down and kiss your knuckles. "Shame everyone would be able to smell me on ya. Think I'd kill to be there when they realize their special little omega got mounted by some grimy ol' cowboy."

"You're not grimy," it's only after you say it that the memories come flooding in. Dirt clinging to his jaw and neck, all the times he hasn't been able to finger you due to some crude, black substance clinging to his nails. That one time, when he came back covered in a thin layer of mud, muttering something about heifers and tagging a damn calf. "...most of the time." 

If it's not the moaning that's going to get you caught, surely it'll be the fit of giggles that squeeze out of the cracks in the door frame.

The roar of a rodeo crowd never fails to remind you of why Rhett does this. Feet stomping on the metal flooring of the bleachers. Hands clapping in a thundering applause. Unafraid to shout and jeer as the numbers on the scoreboard count up.

Four seconds. The bull's head twists to the left. Back legs kicking high into the air. A plume of dirt kicks up.

Five seconds. Rhett's right hand bobs in the air. Torn between the sheer will to keep up for the judges and the overwhelming instinct to use it to steady himself. 

Six. Your breath fogs in front of your face. Shouting Rhett's name. As if doing so could possibly help him hold on. 

Seven. The scream of the crowd is rising now. Booming voices and cowbells so loud that you can no longer hear the beat of your heart in your ears. 

Eight. The buzzer sounds. Artificial flames burst from above the chutes. 

You blink, and he's off the bull. The bullfighters are scurrying like ants. Rhett's scooping his hat up off the ground. Spinning around to face the scoreboard just as the rankings make their switch. You think the crowd may have preemptively exploded into celebration because they're cheering and hollering before you've even realized what the screen says.

1. Rhett Abbott 89.5

You've got to read it twice before you finally understand what that means. He's moving on to the finals next week.

And lord, does he know it. 

Fist pounding against his vest so hard that his hair shakes with every strike, jolted by his own strength. Mouth open. Shouting something that doesn't make it past the arena fences, his wide eyes scanning the bleachers, slowly drifting until they seem to lock with yours.

It's impossible; he's so far away that you can hardly see his features. But he's looking at you, and he's grinning, waving a big hand toward a building lurking just behind the chutes. You've only been to these particular rodeo grounds once, but you've seen that gesture enough times to know what he's asking and that you don't have to head over there right now. 

You won't see him until after he's had his five-minute shower. When he's had time to scrub the adrenaline out of his system and doesn't run the risk of knocking you off your feet by scent alone. 

Do you still regret letting him know that he almost sent you into heat once? Yes. 

A lot.

Though it can't be all that bad. Not when you and your newly acquired chili cheese fries have the pleasure of stumbling across a hell of a scene. Wet, unruly curls and a thin white t-shirt that's ever so slightly too small, clinging to every muscle and curve of his chest, biceps bulging from beneath the restrictive fabric. You can see his tattoo right through it, that bucking bull as prominent as ever.

A pair of green eyes squint back at you, attached to wavy blonde curls and glimmering lip gloss. She's not the only one batting her long lashes at Rhett and twisting her hair between her delicately manicured fingertips; there's a brunette giggling along next to her. A barrel racer done up in purple plaid to your left, another girl in glasses wearing a rodeo hoodie, and those are just the ones that you've noticed. 

All of you are so different in nature, and yet, you have the same end goal: Rhett Abbott.

He'll come when he realizes you're here; you know he will, but hell if this influx of attention doesn't make your stomach twist. Technically, Rhett isn't yours. He can pick any one of these starry-eyed onlookers and never be happier. At least they'll never hold him to the constant strain of being with an omega.

 Something plops atop your head, so big that it falls into your eyes. 

"Whatcha starin' at?" There's that familiar voice that you've become so accustomed to, rumbling from somewhere behind your right shoulder. A familiar scent greets your senses: warm, twisted with the woodsy aroma of body wash, and...something else. A faint musk that makes your nose feel funny.

With the back of your hand, you push his hat up, peering at him from beneath the rim, "I was thinking."

Rhett's head tilts to the side. "'bout?" 

Something tells you that you weren't supposed to see the swift flicker of his gaze. Down to the forgotten snack in your hands, then back up to your face as if nothing ever happened. His tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip. 

"How I'm gonna explain where I've been all night," it's the weakest lie told this century, but you're covering up for it by lifting your container of fries. "Want some?" 

If he catches on to the waver in your voice, then he doesn't mention it, too busy fighting off the little grin working its way onto his handsome face, still clinging to that stoic alpha demeanor that you both know he doesn't have. 

One of these days, he'll figure out that his fluttering eyelashes are giving away his true emotions, almost excited to reach and take two of your fries. Cheese drips as he lifts them, so artificial that it hardly even counts as dairy, the perfect match to those greasy gas station snacks that he's been serenading you with. 

"Y' weren't out here waitin' too long, were ya?" Talking in between bites, sauce clinging to his lips like an absurd gloss. 

Your head shakes, cowboy hat jostling back and forth with the motion. "Only about a minute or two." 

A pair of sour faces twist your way, surveying the competition. If there even is one. Rhett doesn't so much as spare them a glance. Preoccupied with you lifting his beloved hat off your head and pressing his cheesy lips to your temple like this is some kind of normal thing between you two. 

"Hey!" You squeal, but Rhett's already on the move, dodging your light-hearted swat and shoving a stolen fry into his mouth. 

He'd ought to consider himself lucky that he's got those big, blue eyes to get himself out of trouble. With that big laugh that bounces around your head for far longer than it should, enough to make you a little bit dizzy.

"I thought you were worried about..." pausing to swipe at the residue with the back of your hand, wiping away his sloppy kiss, "you know, people seeing?"

Your people seeing. Or hearing. Or even catching the slightest whiff that you're entertaining the very idea of someone who wasn't at last night's party.

But Rhett just shakes his head, that stupid smile prominent as ever. "Ain't no-one to recognize us out here." 

...huh.

"So you're not worried if I..." Taking one step forward. Then another, until you're nose to nose, so close that you can almost taste the mint of his toothpaste. "Do this?"

His forehead thunks against yours. "Not one bit." 

Kissing Rhett Abbott has always been a dream, but kissing him in public is another whirlwind entirely. The rose-tinted novelty of cementing who he belongs to, whose arms you're meant to fit into, and all of those shallow things that onlookers really couldn't give a damn about. They don't care about the strong arms that wind around your waist, the palm that flattens against the curve of your spine. How difficult it is to blindly hold your fries off to the side, trying your best not to crush them between your bodies. 

As quickly as he'd leaned in, Rhett draws away, nose wrinkled. 

"What?" Is there something on your breath? Melted cheese somewhere on your face?

But he just shakes his head, leaning in for another kiss. "Nothin'."

It must have been something in the wind because he doesn't make another mention of it again. His nose doesn't even twitch when you drift past the food trucks, all lined up in the front section of the parking lot, with their fried snacks, greasy meals, and sugar-filled treats that ought to make anyone drool. 

You've only just finished your fries, but you've already caught sight of another truck, white in color, selling something that you don't know the name of but smells like heaven itself. There's no reason for your stomach to be growling, but it sings its little tune regardless of all the things you've snacked on this afternoon. Shame that you left your wallet in the truck and spent the last of your cash on those fries. 

Why are you so hungry today?

"See somethin' ya want?" Rhett's voice is damn near the only thing that can pull you out of your stupor.

"I don't need it," really, you don't. You've already had three things from here; if anything, another greasy snack is the last thing that you need. There's food at home. 

But Rhett's already taking you by the hand, drawing his wallet from his back pocket, and it's just so hard to deny his firm offer to get you anything you want. The food tastes exactly how it smells: warm and easy on the tongue. Your spare glance at the folks selling fried dessert has him bringing over two plates of it. Maybe it's something he wanted, or maybe he's eating it just to make you feel better, you're not sure, but it's gone in minutes.

In the time it takes to walk to the truck, you've acquired a bag of handmade candy, sweet and wonderful, aside from the bizarrely tart green ones that Rhett insists he likes. White lie or not, you're just happy that you won't be accidentally popping one into your mouth again.

"You're sure ya don't want anythin' else?" The squeal of the passenger door almost covers up his question. One of these days, he'll figure out a solution that'll last for longer than a week.

"I'm sure," though if he gives you an hour, you've got a feeling that the answer will be different. For now, your stomach is so full that you almost wonder how you manage to climb into the truck, the slightest bit dizzy from all that sugar and grease.

Or maybe it's from something else because it doesn't seem to be fading. If anything, it seems to be getting worse, the cars in the parking lot spinning around your head like you're in a cartoon. Even the subtle sway of the truck as Rhett gets in the driver's seat is enough to worsen it. 

You can't see it, but you can feel his eyes on you. "I don't think..." That's your voice...but you never planned on talking? What are you trying to say?

Somehow, you've gotten yourself into the middle seat. Close enough for Rhett to loop his arm around your shoulders, drawing you into his side. He's so warm that you melt like ice on a summer day, head falling against his chest, the thump of his heartbeat loud in your ear. 

"Sweetheart..." his lips brush against your temple, some little thing that sends a shiver down your spine. "You feelin' okay?" 

"Dizzy." Concluding before you've even realized what he's asked. "Why?" 

A hand curls around your cheek, urging you to nuzzle closer as if you could possibly need any more encouragement. You're already starting to wedge yourself into the crook of his neck, right where his scent is the strongest. The little gland hidden there has a thicker sheen to it than usual, glistening even in the barely there light.

"Rhett?" You try again, and this time, you might have a little more control over what your body is doing. 

His jaw scratches the top of your head, sucking in a long, audible breath. "Your heats startin'." 

No, that doesn't make sense. Why would...why would your heat be starting? This isn't your first rodeo; you would have recognized the signs if it was coming on. The mood swings, the sudden onset of clinginess, the sudden bouts of lightheadedness that leave you stumbling, the insatiable hunger right at the cusp of—

"Oh."

You don't even feel your face fall. Or maybe you do, and you're just too distracted with the sting of wateriness building in your eyes, distorting your vision, and already trying to spill over. No. No, no, no, no. This can't be your heat. You've always had them toward the middle of spring, never late autumn. That doesn't—that doesn't make sense. Why would it start now?

"Hey, hey," it's not until Rhett starts talking that you realize you've been muttering your thoughts out loud. 

Problem is, you don't care that he's heard you. How are you supposed to when there's the looming possibility that you're never going to see him again? Doesn't he remember? You've got to choose someone before your heat starts, or else your parents will choose for you! 

"I ain't goin' anywhere yet," he's pulling you in, both arms wrapped tight around you, and even the awkward angle cannot distract you from the shiver that's settling into your bones. 

"I don't want you to go anywhere at all!" You don't mean to cry out like a child, but it happens anyway, pitchy and breaking in the middle.

Rhett doesn't open his mouth again. He can't. The Abbotts may have a reputation for being able to repair anything they get their hands on, but there's nothing Rhett can say or do to fix this. All he can do is keep pulling you close until he's leaning back against the door, and you're settled up on top of him, with not an inch of space left between. 

Maybe if you don't move, time won't tick by so quickly. 

The one bad thing about time is that it does pass, regardless of what you have to say on the matter. Because eventually, that time does come when Rhett has no choice but to start his truck; there's an hour's drive ahead of you, and red flags will begin waving if you come home in a full-blown heat. 

For the first time in a while, you see Rhett's speedometer five miles below the speed limit, uncaring of the impatient vehicles blaring the horns. Doesn't get riled up when some asshole drives by flipping him off, hardly even fusses when the guy merges too early and nearly clips the front of his truck. 

All he's worried about is taking as much time as he can, keeping that arm around you for as long as he can manage. Only draws away to handle sharp turns but quickly returns soon after, and frankly, you don't even care about chiding him for his risky driving. 

There's some dumb, sad song droning on the radio when he finally puts the truck into park, and it may be dark in this truck, but you can still see the wateriness brimming his eyes. You know it because you have that same glassiness, too. 

You've got a million and one things you could say, and yet, you can't bring yourself to say a single one of them. There's no point in it; this is probably the last time you'll ever see him. Unmated, at the very least. 

The front door opens before you can utter a single word. Don't know who it is, nor do you care. 

Rhett's forehead presses against yours, mouth opening, then clamping shut just as quickly. Can't say anything either. But then he leans his head down, temple rubbing against yours, and it's the closest thing to a goodbye that either of you can manage. This short, unspoken thing; rubbing his scent on you for both the first and the last time.

Either something about him was warding off the vicious beginnings of your heat, or the very smell of him threw you off the deep end because you hardly make it into your bedroom before the dizziness takes hold again. Feet dragging across the floor, forced to guide yourself with a hand against the wall while someone else shouts their recognition to the whole goddamn world. 

By the time you get your door closed, they're already muttering about which Tillerson to choose for you. Luke or Trevor? Who is the most worthy of selling you off to, like a piece of meat? 

The dizziness takes over before you've even made it to the bed. 

If heaven can be a moment, then this must be hell.

Waking up is always the worst. A dull, incessant throbbing deep in your bones, the edges of your vision blurry enough to give you the worst tunnel vision you've ever had the displeasure of experiencing. Sleeping on the floor has done you no favors, leaving a stiffness in the left side of your body that definitely was not there before. 

It's almost enough to distract from the obscene wetness between your legs. A clear fluid that stains the crotch of your pants and has left a big spot on the floor itself. 

"Maybe sleeping on the floor was worth it..." you mutter as you push yourself to your feet. Cleaning slick out of a mattress is much harder than those YouTube tutorials cropped it out to be; you'll be able to clean that before another wave of dumbness washes over.

The wipes in your bathroom are enough to take care of it, taking it off the hardwood with ease. Leaves you with more time to figure out what to do about these pants, if you're committing to trying another heat while fully dressed, or if a nightgown, while uncomfortably exposing, will be easier to handle. 

Your instincts are itching at you to build a nest, but is it even worth it, all things considered? If everyone has their way, you'll be shipped off to some alpha's house by the end of the night. First with a weekend bag, then the rest of your things once the heat fades. 

And what's that sitting on your windowsill? 

It's an amalgamation of color: dark red, beige, navy blue, balled up inside of something gray. Hell, even when you're looking at it through the glass, you haven't the slightest clue what it is. Leaves you with no choice but to peel open the window and—

A familiar scent strikes your nose. 

Rhett.

These are his shirts. Wrinkled and warm from the sun, and oh, they smell exactly like him. You can't help but squeeze the whole bundle to your chest, shamelessly burying your face into them. He must have spent the whole night rubbing on these like one of those overly friendly cats.

It's about that time of the morning when he puts his horse up in the pen while he helps with the usual barn maintenance, but you don't see her anywhere. The other horses are there: two palominos, a paint, and a handful of chestnuts, but that sturdy little black mare is nowhere to be found. 

Must have put her around the other side. 

Something crinkles inside of these clothes, deep down in the center of them. You know what it is before you've even unraveled the mess of fabric. Snacks. Your favorite chips, a candy bar, and the hard candies that you didn't realize you left in his truck. A torn piece of paper has been tucked into the candy bar wrapper.

Don't forget to eat :) 

Such a simple message shouldn't have tears stinging at the corners of your eyes, but it does, and as much as you'd like to blame it on your heat, you know that's not the case. Funny how even the bare minimum can look like the greatest act of kindness when your heart is torn in two.

Between the impending doom that is the rest of your life and the next wave of your heat coming along, you've got no appetite. That was the whole point of your inability to feel full last night, your body's futile attempt at stocking up on calories before it devolved into a weeklong period of craving nothing but sex, and knots, and alphas, and skin contact, and everything else under that umbrella.

Still, you eat it.

It's not so bad when you manage to convince your heat brain that Rhett's little note was growled into your ear, an order that you cannot possibly disobey. Snacking on the candy bar when you climb out of the shower, taking bites in between your routine, finishing it off when you settle into bed with one of those flannels. Storm clouds are rolling in, and they're doing nothing to ward off the sleepiness your heat is bringing on.

Your impromptu nap is interrupted by the impromptu barging in of someone letting you know that Trevor Tillerson has been chosen as your alpha. He'll be here sometime around nine to pick you up and take you to some fancy resort that he's rented just for the two of you. Somewhere far, far away from Wabang and the dark clouds looming overhead. 

If you had a choice in the matter, maybe it would be romantic.

The chips get you through a bout of doom scrolling on your cellphone until your face begins to feel hot, and you're rudely reminded that you've got to pack while you still can. A righteous pain in the ass that does nothing but frustrate you to no end. 

How are you meant to shove a week's worth of clothes into so few bags? On your heat, no less, the one time when you'll be soaking through most of your garments! And your laptop, where the hell do you shove that? Between the shirts? Do you even bother with these shorts? 

"Why am I doing this?" You mutter it as if you've got a choice in the matter, idly pawing at your spinning head. 

At one point, you suppose that you did. Marrying rich sounded like a wonderful idea when the subject was brought up ten years ago. A life with everything you could ever want. Endless vacations and money to spend on anything you want because you were born an omega, and such a rare thing deserves only the best. You'd had it in your head that you'd find the person of your dreams dressed up in a suit worth more than your entire family ranch. 

But you just had to run right into the Abbott family's youngest son, the one who had nothing but a black horse, a couple of flannels, and a championship rodeo buckle to his name. A new ranch hand, with his scruffy smile and the kindest hands you've ever known. 

Now, here you are. 

Your parents have invested hundreds of hours and an insurmountable amount of money into luring in alphas. They've made friendships with the families of your suitors and formed expectations for the outcome of your life that no longer align with your desires. You're in so deep that a simple 'no' will not suffice. Especially not when Rhett comes into the deal. 

A sourness blossoms in your chest, spreading into your lower belly like a plague, gut-twisting and churning as if you're about to be sick. There's an invisible hand squeezing around your heart, so tight that it just might burst, but you don't feel nauseous. Not one bit, and maybe that's got something to do with the blurring of your vision.

"Rhett," whining. Rhett. You want Rhett. Here. Right now.

That dizziness is growing worse. A foreign heat spreads deep in your inner thighs, flushing to superheat the rest of your body, but your face feels cold, and something wet is spilling across your cheeks. Tears fall quicker than the rain pattering against your window. A never-ending stream that has you hiccuping, frantically sucking in breaths of air that never quench the ache in your throat.

It is the whim of your own frantic hand that leads you to grab your phone. Scrolling through your contacts until you land on the fuzzy shape of a name that you've seen enough times for it to be familiar. 

It rings.

And it rings.

...and it rings.

"Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice messaging system," that robotic voice drones through the speaker, already beginning to ramble off the digits of Rhett's phone number. 

Maybe he didn't get to the phone in time. Yeah, that's got to be it. You'll try again. He'll pick up this time. 

"Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice messaging system."

Thunder rumbles outside, heavy enough to shake the house, rattling the knick-knacks on the shelves and sending slick rushing down your thighs. Sticky and burning, and oh god, your head is spinning like you're on a fucking merry-go-round. 

Someone's knocking at your door, the distorted sound of your name dancing through the room. Whether or not you respond, you've got no idea, but they're responding as if you did.

"Trevor is here," her voice is oddly familiar, but a face isn't coming to mind. 

"I need..." shaking your head, rattling a coherent thought into place. "I need...a little bit longer to pack."

Silence. And then, quietly, "Okay." Footsteps echo through the hallway and then dissolve into nothing.

You can't see. The colors of your room merge together into a sea of splotches, a fire burning up in your chest, the embers reaching all the way up into your skull. White and black, and gray and a spot of green that you just know is the call button. Your thumb darts across the screen. Tapping once. Nothing. Then a little lower.

The screen color changes. 

"Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice messaging system." Whether or not you manage to press 'end call,' you have no idea. All you know is that the screen color has changed. 

He turned off his phone. It didn't even ring before sending you to voicemail this time; he doesn't want to talk to you. 

Maybe he's already found company in one of those girls from last night's rodeo. Or maybe he's entirely decided that it isn't worth entertaining you anymore, not even in the slightest. But that doesn't explain why he's left you some of his flannels, like the one that you're pulling off the bed. 

His scent has already begun to fade, but as you bury your nose into the fabric, it smells as if he's really here. A little bit of focus is all it takes for you to convince yourself that he's right next to you. A big shield, curled around you, right here on the floor. How his jaw would tickle your neck as he rests his head on your shoulder, waiting until you're ready to get up and run off into the sunset with him.

Hell, if only it were that easy. 

If you were to take off on your own, right here and right now, you wouldn't make it out of Wabang. You can't smell them, but every alpha in town will pick up on the pheromones wafting off of you, and you're in no state to defend yourself. 

Even without the heat, you wouldn't be safe. So long as your neck remains bare, you run the risk of being seen as a piece of meat to others, both alpha and beta. One little nip is all it would take for someone to bond you to them forever; so simple that someone can run up from behind and do it within a second. 

When you open your eyes again, the world around you is a little clearer. 

...strange. 

Waves of your heat should last at least an hour or more, not a few minutes. Standing, even with the uneasy sway of your body, shouldn't be this easy. Yet you've got the strength to walk yourself over to the window, still open from when you took the shirts off the ledge. The wind has carried rain into the room, scattering across the floor and nearly causing you to slip. Your only saving grace is the windowsill itself, your clammy hands gripping it tight as they can. 

Evidently, house shoes aren't meant to traverse the elements. Not even a little bit of water. 

As if to reveal its schemes to you, the wind blows once more. Cool air kisses your burning cheeks, the only indication of how much you've already adjusted to your heat. Now, if only your eyes could do something similar and adjust to the shift in lighting. 

It can't be anything past eight o'clock, but night has already fallen in its entirety, a thick blanket of black covering everything beyond the horizon. Even so, you can vaguely make out the shape of something sitting in your driveway. Blocky, but there are four bits of round metal catching in the dull light hanging outside of the barn. 

Something behind it moves. Noticeably lighter than the dirt and whatever that object is. 

Your eyes narrow. Fighting the urge to lean further out the window as the thing creeps across the drive. A growl rumbles out of your throat. Goosebumps prickle across your skin. It's growing closer. 

Clink.

Clink. 

Clink.

Wait a damn minute.

"Rhett?" 

A laugh twists through the air with all the grace and beauty of a ballerina. "Did I hear you growlin' at me?" 

"You shut off your phone when I tried calling you!" Is all your dumb, cloudy mind can come up with, pitchy and whiny like a child. 

"Shh, shh, I know," there he is. The dull porch light is the only thing illuminating his handsome face. 

His mouth opens like he's got something else to say, but it closes just as quickly, still searching for the right words. Then, trying again. "Ya remember what y' said in the barn 'bout runnin' away?"

"Yes, but..." pausing to look over your shoulder at the closed door before looking back at him. "What about your horse? And, and, your job and your things at the bunkhouse?"

"I got it all taken care of," he's a little closer now, enough for you to see the longer scruff clinging to his jaw. Soft. Not quite as wirey as when it's freshly shaved. "'m startin' on a ranch in Nebraska next Monday mornin'. Owner says he knows a guy with a house I can rent for us. It ain't all that much, but I—"

"Okay." You can't help yourself. He doesn't need to say another word. 

His eyes flutter. "Okay." Parroting you, as if to make sure the word is what he thinks it is. 

For a moment or three, it's quiet. Nothing but the crunch of dirt beneath his boots and the jingle of spurs that he's too lazy to take off. And now he's standing right in front of you, nothing but this window and a small shrub separating you. His nostrils flare, and you're certain that if it were brighter out, you'd be able to see the darkening of his pupils.

There's that smile. Sprawling across his face, wrinkling the corners of his eyes, pearly white teeth glistening like he's the star of a toothpaste commercial. Can hardly close his mouth as you lean in, lips brushing against his. 

Voices echo from down the hallway, squeezing in through the cracks. 

Shit.

Your feet are moving before you can even process what's happening. Scrambling across the piles of clothes that sit on your floor. Grabbing whatever you can. Shoving it into the still-open bags. T-shirts. Shoes. Loungewear. You don't know what else. What you have and what you're missing can all be sorted out later. All you know is that those voices are getting closer, and you can't get back to the window fast enough.

You're not even sure if Rhett hears them talking, but he's not wasting time by asking questions. Already pulling the duffel bag from your arms and turning back towards his truck. Lightning flickers as you run back to your bags. Heart hammering so loud that you hardly even notice the thunder that follows.

One of the voices says your name. A laugh rattles after it. 

A zipper fumbles between your fingers. Climbs halfway down the track. Then catches on the hem of something sticking out. You can't see what it is. 

"Fucking—" swearing under your breath. You pull it again. No give. 

It'll have to do. You're already scrambling to shove the bag into Rhett's open arms. Twisting back for the last one. Phone. Where is your phone? But the room is spiraling with your movement, and your eyes feel as if they're rolling around in your skull. Vision darting every direction except for where you want it to go.

There it is. On the floor, next to his shirt. Which part of the bag are you shoving them into? You don't know. 

The voices are closer. Three. Four. Five of them. Talking, laughing together as they edge near your room and your unlocked door. 

"Baby." Rhett's voice cuts through your thoughts like a knife. 

You don't think any time has passed, and yet, turning back to the window feels like the first time you've moved in minutes. The edges of your vision swim, merging into a haze of black as you scramble to him. 

You've gotten over this window before. He's seen you do it. But as you draw a leg up and over, his hands dart out and settle on your waist. Holding you steady, like you might fall to your death if he doesn't.

Rain pelts your face like tiny bullets, freezing on your superheated skin, and the voice in your head wonders if this is what freedom feels like. The rush buzzing through your veins. The big hand that squeezes yours, the mud that kicks up under your heels as you tear down the driveway. 

Wind squeals in your ears so loud that you nearly miss the clatter ring through the window. But it's too late for them to kick in the door. You're too far gone for them to catch. Because your feet are flying beneath you. And Rhett's right alongside you. And even the storm cannot conceal the glisten in his eye. The way he laughs, loud and triumphant and excited. 

It's the scene that's played through your head ever since you met. 

A voice calls out. Rhett splits off to slam his truck bed cover closed. You keep going.

Another one echoes through the storm. Deeper. Shouting your name.

"Stop!" 

But there's no leash to hold you back. No magical lasso that they can throw out and reel you back in with. Nothing stops you from pulling on the handle of the passenger door and leaping up into the seat, scrambling to slam it shut before someone can magically appear to wedge it open. 

Rhett's door squeals open. Vehicle swaying as he all but launches himself inside, fumbling for the gear shift. 

The truck jerks forward, engine roaring as the tires spin. The tail end jerks to the left, then the right, then back to the left again, gunning it down the driveway.  

Light pours through the front door, vaguely human blotches rushing out onto the porch. Even as you twist to look out the rear window, they're nothing more than tiny spots of color, growing smaller and smaller. The headlights of a truck flick on, but it's no use. Rhett's tires are already kissing the pavement of the main road.

You blink, and the house is gone; you might as well be a million and one mile away.

Rhett's head turns, just as yours does, eyes locking for the briefest of seconds. A little rumble of something escapes him, and it must be contagious because something a giggle is bubbling out of you, boiling into laughter.  

"That was," his mouth fumbles through his smile, "not how I planned it."

"What, were you hoping to get shot at, too?" Slow, you turn to settle back into the seat, wedged between him and the duffel bag crammed against the passenger door. 

Something sharp stabs in your lower belly. So sudden that it has your knees knocking together, eyes squeezing shut. As quickly as it happened, a wave of heat curls into its place, an uncomfortable wetness appearing between your legs.

A hand appears on your thigh. Hot. Clammy. "You okay?" 

"Heat." Is all you can say. 

That's all it is, really. Cramps. The one thing that manages to be worse than your heat itself. You can handle the overwhelming craving for an alpha between your legs, stretching you to your limit as he knots you over and over and over.

Ugh. You can't be thinking of this right now. 

Just like how you shouldn't be slouching to your left, cheek squishing Rhett's shoulder, big and warm, and right where he tends to spray his cologne. Faint from a day of wear, but there's still a peppery note lingering on him, overwhelmed by...something you can't describe. 

Something that makes the tip of your nose feel numb. 

Odd. It was there last night, too, but you don't recall it appearing any other time before that. There was certainly no trace of it in the barn or when he snuck into your bedroom afterward. Maybe your heat has warped your sense of smell again; it wouldn't be the first time. 

Rhett's foot shifts from the gas, gently pressing against the brakes for an upcoming red light, fingers audibly drumming against the steering wheel. 

Something white rolls across the floorboard, tiny somethings rattling around inside. Tumbling toward the front of the truck, then falling back to thunk against the toe of your muddy hose shoe. 

"'s just some vitamins," Rhett mutters, kicking them with his foot, sending the bottle thunking against the passenger door, cap popping open. A myriad of long, round blue pills spill out, decorating the floor. 

Huh. 

You've never seen blue vitamins before, their pastel color seeming to glow in the lights hanging overhead, Wabang's feeble attempt at keeping the darkness of night at bay. Curious, you lean down and reach out for the container. Your fingertips brush against the plastic on your first try, depth perception warped by the haze of your heat, but you get it on the second attempt.

Suppressants for Alphas only 250MG Rut Suppressants.

Your head turns to Rhett. His eyes dart from the label. To yours. Then, back to the road. 

The pieces click together so perfectly that you can hear them falling into place. Resonating through your empty skull until every fiber of your psyche echoes the same thing. 

"You started your rut," it slips out of your mouth like it's a scientific breakthrough. A discovery that will be written in the history books for millennia. 

His Adam's apple bobs, swallowing hard. A pink tongue darts out to wet his lips. "Didn't want ya thinkin' that was my reason for all this."

"I wouldn't have thought that Rhett," reaching for the hand that still rests on your thigh, fingers slotting between his, lightly squeezing it in your grasp. 

But his head just shakes, foot twitching against the gas pedal. The truck lurches, finally beginning to pull through that traffic light. "'s my fault your heat started." 

"I know." You already put that together. It explains everything: the odd timing and the sudden onset of it at the rodeo. That funny scent he's been wearing...it was from the pills. 

He looks at you again, teeth worrying his bottom lip, already swollen from the abuse. First, the licking, now the chewing. If you give it a minute, he'll start rubbing at them with his fingertips. For now, those heavy eyes dart back to the road. Guilty. "'n you're not upset 'bout that?" 

You're not entirely sure what to say to him. That the timing may be inconvenient, but you're happy to be here with him, running after a fever dream that might or might not work out? Do you admit that you wish this would have happened sooner? 

So many thoughts, and yet, not a word drifts down to your tongue. Instead, all you can think to do is this. Leaning over, left arm crammed between your bodies, as your right squirms across his belly, squeezing him. A poor attempt at a hug, but he softens under your touch all the same.

"It's not your fault," you murmur after a moment. The world around you is beginning to twist again, warping into a familiar blur, makes it hard to move your mouth. "You wouldn't hold it against me if my heat triggered your rut. Why would it be any different the other way around?"

You don't feel him move, but his lips find their way to your temple, lingering for a fleeting second. They would likely stay longer if driving didn't demand so much of his attention, hand idly working the steering wheel as you rumble through Wabang. If anyone has followed you this far, then surely they'll lose you here; too many winding streets for them to maintain a trail.

There's a part of you that wonders if you fell asleep because the next time your eyes open, the road is different. One moment, you're in town, and the next, you're on a dark, four-lane highway merely illuminated by the vivid beams of his headlights. 

Or maybe...maybe it's just two lanes because the lights on the dash seem to have doubled. Blurry and out of focus, no matter how much you try to blink your vision back into clarity. Shifting in the seat, you lift your head. 

And immediately let it thunk back onto Rhett's shoulder, vision twisting as if you've spent the past thirty minutes spinning in circles. "Ugh."

"There you are," Rhett hums. His hand drops down to squeeze your knee, giving it a little shake. "Did you know that ya snore?" 

"I do not!" Your squeal comes out as a hoarse croak. So foreign in your mouth that you hardly recognize it. 

An invisible bolt of lightning fires up your belly. 

Slick pools between your legs, staining your underwear and seeping down to your thighs. There's a shiver in your bones that wasn't there before, wavering like a leaf in high wind, without rhyme or reason. And there's this deep set ache in your lower stomach, reaching all the way to your weeping cunt, almost sore from lack of use, demanding attention that your fingers can't satisfy. 

"What's wrong?" Rhett's voice meets your ears like a ray of sunshine on a stormy day. 

Shame that it can't ward off the wave of cramps thundering through your lower belly. "Hurts," 

"Jus' a few more miles, 'kay?" His arm lifts, draping across your weary shoulders like a blanket. It's a fleeting touch that'll be forced to end at the next curve in the road, but it's nice to slouch into, head coming to rest against the side of his chest. Thin muscle flexes under your cheek, stretched so tightly that you can feel the bone lurking underneath. 

You wonder if he's just naturally built so wirey or if he'll be one of those alpha's that grow bulkier with a mating bond. It's hard to figure it out without being familiar with his family; if you knew the Abbotts personally, then maybe you'd have heard the stories of it happening with his father or brother. Maybe even a grandparent.

On its own, your hand shifts, crawling to rest on his knee. It's just as bony as the rest of him, and yet, conceals just enough muscle to cling onto the backs of those bulls. They're invisible at first glance, but if you squeeze, you can feel the softness of them, wrapped around hard bone. 

"Are you feelin' me up?" He chuckles, wiggling his leg back and forth as if to try and shake you off. 

Well, you weren't yet, but now that he's put the idea in your head...

Rhett sucks in a breath. His hips jerk, the truck lurching as his foot spontaneously presses against the pedal. You've felt him in your palm before, but fuck you don't remember him being this thick, twitching under the slightest bit of pressure. 

"Wait," he grunts. That arm is already slipping out from behind your shoulder, big hand encircling your wrist.

Maybe you should have asked first. "Did I—"

"No. God no," talking so fast that he stumbles over his words, "just...hurts." 

And yet, he makes no move to draw your hand away, letting it remain there as he focuses on keeping the truck on the road, grip so firm that you're almost certain he won't let you pull back. It's all you can do to ignore the way he throbs through his jeans, pulsing against your soft palm, testing the will of the zipper confining him.

It must take a year for him to begin turning off onto an exit, dark and poorly lit by a scattered array of frail lamp posts. The road thins, and all of a sudden, neon flickers to life—a hotel sign. Logo written in such gaudy cursive that you can hardly read its name. 

A whine rattles out of you, squirming impossibly closer. 

There's a blip in your memory. 

You don't remember when he pulled into the parking lot or when you got out of the truck. But the air is cool around your ankles, and his arm is tight around your waist, forcing you to remain upright. You can't feel your feet moving, but you're stumbling along next to him anyway, head hanging low, too heavy for the rest of your body. 

"Where...?" 

"Almost there." His voice is on your left. Damn this stupid heat, why was that such a surprise to you? 

A shrill beep sounds. Green flashes. 

A bed.

It's as if a switch has flipped. The door falls shut behind you, but your feet are glued to the floor; the edges of your vision still twist, but the world around you has become noticeably...still. Surreal, even. Any moment now, you're waiting to blink away the sight of this drab little hotel and find yourself standing in the four familiar walls of your bedroom.

But as you lift your head, gaze crawling up Rhett's chest like a hungry animal, that doesn't happen. The sight of him doesn't begin to fade, his body remaining firm against yours, even as your eyes dare to meet. 

According to the romance novels and the films you've spent so much time watching, you're supposed to be the disheveled one here. Hell, maybe you are. But those films never depicted how pretty an alpha can be when their rut has set in. Freshly bitten lips, messy hair, and rosy cheeks, gazing at you with those glistening eyes. It's as if you hold his entire world in the palm of your hand.  

Slow, you twist, careful to mind where your numb feet fall, greedy hands roaming up the thick expanse of his chest, sculpted from a lifetime of back-breaking labor. Then, wandering up his neck, slowing to feel the vein bulging there, chasing it up into the soft hair clinging to his jaw. Your thumb swipes across his bottom lip, watching how it squishes under the pressure.

His eyelashes flutter; you wonder if he was a butterfly in his past life, still clinging to old habits. It's a question you'll have to ask him later when you're not halfway into leaning in and catching those thin lips in yours. 

There goes your head again, swirling 'round and 'round, set into motion by the hum that rattles out of him. One little peck. Your hands drop back down to feel the swell of his chest. A second. His arms begin to wind around you. A third, and the heel of his palm is pressing into the small of your back, and you're crumpling.

It's like a freshly knocked-over candle. The smokey leather of his scent, haunted by the fading chemical that temporarily overrode the pheromones radiating off of him. Invisible to the nose at first, but the fire is already beginning to spread until it's roaring so bright that you reckon flames might come out of your ears. 

Your arms coil around his thin waist, cinching him in with a strength you thought you'd lost. A stray foot slots between yours, his chest pushing into you, and the room is spinning. Caught by a mattress that squeals and bounces with your combined weight, unprepared for such a landing. 

"You 'megas sure get strong when ya want somethin'," Rhett's hair tickles your forehead as he settles on top of you. Perfectly slotted between your parted legs, jeans deliciously rough against your exposed thighs, pajama shorts hardly doing anything to conceal you. 

A little too curious, your hips roll, eager to find out if you can feel the bulge of his cock. 

You can.

Worse. He felt it too, already beginning to swivel forward, a foreign pressure appearing against your weeping cunt. Something jolts up your spine. Doesn't necessarily hurt; more of a reminder of what you don't have.

"Like you're so innocent in all this," your words come out rushed, riding the coattails of a shaky breath. 

He doesn't have anything to say to that, maybe a little shy as he nuzzles his nose against your cheek. A stark contrast to the bold hips that press into you, so eager and desperate to feel you. It's like the first time you crossed that boundary, ground down on each other until neither could take it anymore. 

Except, this time, you've no reason to stop there. 

No family. No concern about high-dollar alphas or uncomfortable, fashionable outfits. These peeling walls couldn't care less about who you coil your legs around. This bed isn't going to fuss at you for spreading your legs to a scruffy ranch hand without a pedigree. 

You're the only one who cares about the way he guides himself with his nose, blindly wandering back to meet your mouth. Kisses you with all the fervor of a man who's just found everything he's ever wanted. 

His hands are everywhere, cradling your face, skirting down your sides, and wandering up under your shirt, callouses catching on the soft skin of your belly as he roams beneath. Then he's above your shirt again, dragging up the swell of your breasts, on his way to grip your jaw.

It's so hard to stay still. Your fingers find their way to his flannel, already trying to work it open. It's so much harder with your eyes closed, shivering hands struggling to remain still. Fuck, this button just doesn't want to move. Stubbornly caught in the hole, refusing to slip through, even as you pull—

It snaps off. Lands atop your heaving chest. Rhett draws back, already looking down at it. 

"I'm sorry—"

"Don't be." The corner of his lip lifts, flashing a sharp canine. Cocky, as he reaches for the shirt, buttons flying as he yanks it open. "'s kinda hot."

And just like that, he's leaning back onto his haunches, hands skimming down your sides until his fingers can comfortably hook under your shorts. Obedient, your hips lift, knees cinching up to help get them past your ankles. They're gone in an instant, underwear and all.

Is he trying to take his time? Probably.

Does that stop you from impatiently pinching his belt buckle open and yanking on the zipper? No. No, it does not. 

"Alright, alright," only Rhett Abbott can laugh this prettily, cherry red cheeks and all. "'n here I am tryin' to be a gentleman." 

You and your swirling head know that he has to pull away to get those jeans off. They need to come off, but you're already whining for him to come back. Some primal, involuntary noise that you don't recall making before, pathetic as a wounded animal.

Rhett's head jerks up. "It's okay, it's okay," he's already coming back. You knew he would, but the dumb part of your brain argues that he wouldn't have unless you made that pitiful little noise. 

But regardless of the reason, his big, warm body is slotting between your legs, his big chest flexing as he crawls up to meet your mouth. It hardly even counts as a kiss, more of a pressure that serves to remind you he's there. He's here. With you, and he's not going anywhere else. 

"I ain't goin' anywhere," he murmurs as if he's heard every silent worry racing through your dumb little mind. Can't seem to think about anything except for him and his scent and the feel of him against you and what he might be doing next.

His head dips, nuzzling you with his temple. It's the simplest damn thing, but hell, if it doesn't suck the air right out of your lungs. The innately primal drag of his scent glands against your skin, marking you like a prize he's fought tooth and nail to keep. Perfect in every sense of the term, everything you've imagined and more. 

You don't know what made your eyes drift down, but one way or another, they do, and—

"Jesus, Rhett." You've been anticipating this going a number of ways, but good lord, you didn't have this on your laundry list of ideas, what-ifs, and daydreams. 

Even when you were greedily decorating your imaginary version of him, you never quite pictured his cock to be this fucking thick. So damn heavy that it hangs between his legs, hovering just above your belly, the faintest swell of his knot already beginning to show. 

His chuckle almost sounds devilish; knows damn well what he's got and what it could do to you. "Don't think much of me is gonna fit." Understatement of the fucking century. 

No wonder he never let you touch him; he probably thought it would scare you away. In your right mind, maybe it would, but you can almost feel the hearts blossoming in your eyes, already beginning to reach for him. Your hand freezes midway—maybe you should ask first. He still might not...

He's gently taking you by the wrist, guiding you the rest of the way. This is your first ride in this particular rodeo, but your fingers wrap around his base as if you've been doing it for decades. Oh, he's so much bigger than he looked, makes your hand appear tiny as it glides up the length of him. It's enough to have your heart jumping in your chest, pitter-pattering with a newfound vigor. 

Wetness pools between your legs. So much of it that you can feel the way it runs down your thighs, and you just can't help but angle him down, dragging his fat cock head through your weeping folds. 

He groans. 

Your vision blurs. 

The world might fall apart.

A sudden shiver takes hold of you. Quaking like you're being rattled from the inside out, another wave of slick drooling out of your poor, unused cunt, delirium settling at the forefront of your mind. Saliva drips from the corner of your mouth, the edges of your vision blurring to the point of disappearing entirely.

"Shit..." One of you says it. You're not sure who.

It's as if you're the gasoline and Rhett is the lighter, setting you ablaze with the slightest hint of a flame. You don't realize you're still wearing a shirt until after it's peeled over your head, and even then, the loss of it does nothing to soothe the invisible wildfire claiming every inch of your skin.

Oh, and you think he might have it as bad as you do. Noses and chests crashing together, pinning your arm between your bellies, his cock rutting against your cunt like it's always belonged there. He whines into your mouth, jerking forward, the underside of his length massaging against your swollen clit. 

"Fuckin'..." he loses track of his words, panting against your mouth like a dog in the sun, "hell, 'm tryna go slow, but—"

Your body jerks up off the bed. Desperate. Needy. Aching for more than just a brush of him against you. The slow glide of him isn't enough. More. You need so much more. But it's hard to speak when your mouths clash, tongues tangling so sloppily that calling it a kiss would be an insult to the word. 

"Go." Panting against his lips. "Slow." One more word. One more word. "Later." 

Rhett draws back, spit-slick lips glistening in the light. The corner of his eye twitches. As if set off by it, you involuntarily clamp down around nothing, needily seeking something that isn't there yet. The emptiness is nauseating. 

"Rhett," you plea, because why in God's name is he not in you yet?

Dumb, stupid, well-meaning alpha. Always has to be taking his time and treating you like you're made of glass, ready to shatter at any given moment. But you're made of the same material as he is, fully capable of rolling over and—

Teeth sink into the scruff of your neck. Every bone, muscle, and fiber in your body goes still. You're stuck like this. Face down, trapped beneath his body, ass high in the air for him. Big arms cage your waist, his chest resting against your back like you're a pair of wild animals—no grace or sophistication about it. 

"'m tryin' to be careful with you, darlin'," his growl is muffled by your own flesh, still caught between his sharp teeth, "y' don't want me bruisin' this little pussy of yours, now do ya?" 

And as if to punctuate his sentence, his hips twitch toward, cock slipping between your slick-soaked thighs. Draws back, angle shifting just enough to have his blunt tip pressing against your weeping entrance, opening you the slightest fraction, then slipping out to slide through the folds of your cunt instead. 

The voice in your head suggests it's a threat. A reminder of what he's capable of. But your body says otherwise, already pressing back into him despite the teeth holding you pliant. Thick waves of want pulsing through your veins, thoughts aligning to echo the same damn thing. You need more. 

A cramp takes hold of your lower belly, a stabbing sort of sensation that makes you wince. Whatever primal instinct lingering in your genetics is livid.

"It hurts." You cry in a pitchy tone you've never heard yourself use before. 

"'m gonna fix it," his mouth reels away from your neck, licking over the irritated skin. "I promise."

Again, you push back. Hands digging into the bed, moving with your whole body. Sharp teeth sink back into your neck, his arms coiling around you, pulling tight until you can no longer move. 

That pressure appears again, and this time, it doesn't disappear. The unmistakable sensation of his fat cock head pressing into your pussy. He feels so much different than the silicone of your toys, warm and pulsing and so much fucking thicker; you're quite literally made to take a cock like his, loose and slick with your heat, and yet there's still an ache blooming. 

It feels impossible. There's no way...there's no way that's going to fit. 

Oh, but the feel of his tip alone has you gushing around him, an obscene amount of slick waterfalling down your thighs and onto the mattress below. He groans, low and heavy, his heated breath tickling the back of your ear.

"Rhett..." 

"I'm here," he's murmuring, and again, he's soothing the bite with his tongue. You wonder if this is what it would feel like for him to mate you. For him to sink his teeth into the scent gland on the side of your neck and let instinct take over, lick the wound clean, smother you in his scent, and then bear his pretty, pale neck for you to take for yourself. 

You can't think about it for long. Not with his cock sinking into your aching heat, filling every centimeter of you, so big that he presses against each and every little nerve without needing to try. It's as if you're being split wide open, forced to do nothing but relax and take it like a good little omega. 

A whimper escapes you, pitchy and involuntary. Set off by the drag of his tip against a particularly sensitive spot. 

"'s that where you like it?" He coos, rumbling into your ear. It's all you can do to tilt your head back, your cheek bumping into his nose. So close, not another word spoken.

It's like being broken apart and then built back up again. Fuck you can feel him up in your throat. The stretch of him is so much that it aches. Your mouth falls open at the feel of him inching deeper and deeper, pushing the air from your lungs, winding your muscles tight. Head spinning with a gentleness that wasn't there before as if your own body knows that it no longer needs to fuss about an alphas cock. 

The solid bone of his hips presses into the swell of your ass. Fully in you now. His heated breath fans out over your shoulder, heavy and carrying the faintest noises along with it. 

You'd thought that you'd let go of the breath caught in your throat, but...but...

"Fuck, look at you," the soft scruff of his jaw tickles your naked shoulder, such a foreign sensation to feel him there. So unfair. You should have known this feeling years ago. "So fuckin' pretty." 

His hands roam up your sides, callouses catching on the smooth skin, dragging just right. A shiver ripples up your spine, body involuntarily falling forward, only to sway back into him. 

Stars sparkle. Your legs nearly come out from under you. "Shit, Rhett..." 

So much. There's so much of him. In you and around you and on top of you and crowding every single one of your senses. There's no hotel.  No concern about how terrible everyone at home may feel. No earth around you. Not a single star in the galaxy. Just Rhett, Rhett, Rhett. 

"Move," you whisper as kisses press to the length of your spine. One after the other, like he's trying to love on each and every bone there. 

You squirm forward, then back again, hardly enough to even count as a movement, but the underside of his cock drags right against a nerve that damn near takes your voice away. His hand flattens against your belly, but he doesn't hear you. 

"Move," you try again, craning your head to look at him. Dark blue eyes lift, looking back at you, still peppering your back with love. "Please, Rhett—"

His hips snap into you. Pressing hard.

Your elbows crumple, falling face first into the pillow, but he just keeps fucking pressing into you, as if you could possibly take any more. A whine sparks out of you, twisting to expose your neck to him. He chuckles at that, low and dark, tongue poking past his lips to run over the delicate scent gland hiding there. 

 Then, slowly, he begins to move. Drawing back at a snail's pace, his forearms caging your waist as if to keep you from running away when he pushes back into you. Shivers run through your thighs, already beginning to clench from the feeling of him inside you alone. 

You've dreamed of this too many times for the newness to remain for long, squirming beneath him, fighting to keep your eyes on his face. Flushed and red in the cheeks, has yet to say anything, but it's easy to tell that he's feeling it, too. 

Those careful back and forths are already beginning to find their confidence, like he's slowly realizing that his cock isn't going to break you into two, no matter how much it feels like it will. Hips hitting your ass hard enough to send you jolting, a surprised little 'uh' breaking past your lips. 

"Only goddamn omega in the state of Wyomin'," he muses aloud, nails dragging over the side of your ass, making you squirm against him, "n here ya are, gettin' mounted by a cowboy." 

Impatient, he snaps into you. Heavy balls smacking into your clit. Electricity jumps up your belly. You hardly recognize what's happening. But you're fluttering around him. Heart lurching in your chest. Slick gushing down your thighs. Crying out as you suddenly cum on his cock. Eyes rolling back into your head and all. 

"Fuck, that's...fuck,"  Rhett hisses through grit teeth, but he's not stopping. No, no, he's not even slowing down. 

Shocks fire through your nerves with every motion. The kiss of his fat head against your nerves. The drag of his length along your trembling walls. The slight swell of a knot catching on your swollen entrance. But it feels so good that you can't do anything but hold still, clenching around him like a goddamn vice.

"Can't believe I never—mmh," his head falls forward, thunking against your shoulder, hips rolling into you in languid motions. "Can't believe I went this long without breedin' this pretty lil pussy of yours." 

Air catches in your throat. Cunt sent into a spasm from his words alone. "If you keep talking, I'm...I'm..." You haven't got an ending for that sentence, left open-ended and hanging. 

Kisses lead up the side of your neck, working their way to your jaw. You tilt your head, trying your best to meet him. The angle puts a strain on your neck, unable to bend any further. Even as you push your hands into the mattress and try to force yourself backward, you can't...quite...

The room shifts. Falling forward into the pillow. Rhett's heavyweight collapses on top of you. Cool air greets your swollen cunt, suddenly empty. 

"Well, that didn't..." Rhett's laugh is a melody in your ear, his smile so big that you can feel it against your cheek, "that didn't work too well." 

Between the emptiness in your skull and the sudden change in position, figuring out where you start and where he ends is a...challenge. He starts moving at the same time that you do. His knee awkwardly slots behind your thighs. Your knuckles accidentally smack into his jaw. And he's moving toward you, but you're twisting against the mattress, and your noses are smacking into each other—

"There's your pretty face," he grins, a little too cheerful. You've barely got time for your back to settle against the cheap mattress before he leans in.

The kiss is a little too innocent for what's going on below. Soft, chaste pecks. A sharp contrast to the way he settles between your parted legs, heavy cock bumping into you. Your hand darts between your bellies, blindly guiding him toward your sex. 

It's easier the second time. The gentle glide of him, chasing away that infuriating emptiness as he sinks back into you, balls bumping into your ass. So much better. This is so much better. You're already wandering, hands roaming across the broad expanse of his shoulders, seeking the perfect spot to cling on to him.

"Look at that..." he breathes, and you don't need to guess to know what he's referring to, "gonna have y' limpin' before the nights over." 

It's the kind of thing that has you shivering. The obscene sight of his thick cock disappearing between your legs stretched to your absolute limit. Impossible to look away from, even when he draws back by an inch or two, testing the angle as he sinks back in. Almost effortless, he nudges against a bundle of nerves. Sets it ablaze like a match on gasoline.

"Fuck. I can feel ya clenchin' round me, sweetheart," his eyelashes flutter, hair falling into his red face, swinging in synchrony with the lazy rocking of his body, easing in and out of you. "'s it feel that good?"

Greedy, you reach for his biceps, squishing the girth of them, muscle flexing beneath your fingertips. "Uhuh," speaking dumbly. Not another thought crosses your mind. 

There can't possibly be a bad position with Rhett, but this is something else entirely. Feels so nice to wrap your legs around his hips, heels digging into his ass, clinging to his big, warm body. Chest to chest, so close that his scruffy jaw tickles your cheek, big blue eyes threatening to drown you if he gets any closer.

Your mouths fall open, meeting for another one of those kisses that insult the romantics attached to such a word. Nothing but lewd tongue and saliva running down your chins, panting into each other, breath so hot that it ought to fog up the room. And you just can't help it, not with the press of his cock against your nerves, so damn big that missing them is impossible.

He's too quiet. Stiffling little noises in the back of his throat, extinguishing them before they can make it past the tip of his tongue. One of your hands is slithering up his arm. Wandering across the expanse of his shoulders, fingers tangling into the loose curls at his nape and pulling. 

A whine cuts through the air. Muffled at the end, but it's there nonetheless.

Words collide in your head. Tumbling down onto your drooling tongue. "Wanna hear you." 

It should take more convincing than that, but for some reason, that's all that it takes for him to give you what you want. A little noise soars out of him with all the perfection and catchiness of the new biggest hit playing on the radio. 

You think you can cum from that sound alone. 

This is so surreal. 

The nuzzle of his nose against yours, panting against your lips. The flex of muscle in his belly, as he draws himself back and forth, rutting into you, slow, yet meeting your body hard enough to have your back jostling against the mattress. You think you catch the sound of your name, twisted into the symphony of noises rattling around the room.

"I love you," it slips out of you with crippling ease; has been sitting on your tongue for so, so long that you forgot it was there at all. 

His lips wobble up into a smile. There's a glassiness in his eye that wasn't there before. "And I love you." 

He melts. 

Falls into you, even. 

Nothing but sweaty skin and wandering hands and peppered kisses everywhere that they'll fit. Up the side of your clammy neck, atop his burning forehead. The base of his knot is starting to swell, catching on your entrance with every stroke, tugging just enough for it to rip a gasp out of you. 

"'m close," he whispers, just a little secret to be shared between you and him. Not another soul is allowed to know of this little slice of heaven situated atop this old hotel mattress. "You gotta...baby, if y' don't let me go, 'm gonna..."

"Knot." Blurting. Your eyes flutter. "Please, I want—"

He hums. Doesn't need to open his mouth for you to understand that he gets it. No fuss about the crippling lack of a condom or how you really, truly can't go back from this, instead blindly following your request with crippling loyalty. Yours. Your alpha. The one who would follow you to the ends of the earth without a word. 

Even if you wanted to, it's too late to change your mind because his knot is too swollen to slip out of you. Weary, unstable thrusts are forced into an unfamiliar shallowness, but it's forcing an angle that has him rolling directly into every little nerve. You can't stop the hand that dives between your bodies, fingertips pressing to your clit in a familiar fashion.

Just a little more. Just a little more.

An involuntary clench is all it takes to have him spilling over the edge. Face falling into the crook of your neck, cumming with a choked cry that rings through your head. Fuck nobody ever told you that you'd be able to feel his knot swelling inside of you. Stretching you beyond your limit, hot cum spilling into your pussy, not a drop of it spilling out. 

Without warning, your back twitches up off the bed, cumming without warning. Head thrown back. Heart pounding against your chest. Clenching like a vice around Rhett's twitching cock. You might be muttering his name because you can feel your mouth moving, but you're too far away to hear what's leaving your lips. Entirely lost in the thundering clouds looming in the skies. 

However long you're up there, you have no idea, but at some point, Rhett finds the strength to settle onto his forearms. Pressing kisses to your lower jaw and trailing up to your temple, shiny with your scent. No two descriptions of it have been the same, but you like to believe his description is closest to reality. A fresh strawberry pie, sitting on the windowsill after the rain has ended. 

You can't help yourself, his neck is right there. The gland exposed to you like he's trying to show it off, so sensitive that he gasps at the nip of your teeth. 

He hums, leaning back just far enough to get a look at your face. Whatever he finds looming behind your sparkling eyes is enough to have a smile contorting his lips. Then, he tilts his head to the side, properly bearing his neck to you.

You know what he's offering. Asking. The quietest proposal you've ever heard. 

Logic suggests that you wait. Give yourselves time to grow together. Adjust to the discomfort of a collar in exchange for the opportunity to take things slow. The world won't end if you step off onto the well-worn path of tradition; if it's worked for everyone else, then it should work for you.

But you've done enough waiting. Your heart made its decision a long time ago. 

The movies made this seem like some blinding moment of passion. The moment your teeth sink into the delicate scent gland, the world should explode into colors that you've never seen before. The answers to the universe ought to dance around your fingertips, hearts springing from your eyes. 

But all Rhett does is giggle. 

Gidy, like a little kid on the playground, as he cranes his head to find the matching spot on your neck. Soothing it with his tongue before his canines break the skin. 

Blood rushes to your face so quickly that you can hear it in your ears. Your heart jumps, and maybe it grows the slightest bit warmer, but...nothing changes. It's still you, Rhett, and his big, strong body shielding yours from the world. These hands that cradle your cheeks are still the ones that you've known all these years. He still nuzzles your noses together, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

Voices rattle in the hallway. Something—no, someone, bumps against the door, her giggles intertwining with the laughter of a much deeper voice. 

"Mine." 

You don't recognize...

was that you?

 "'re you growlin' again?" Rhett asks, in that playfully accusatory tone, shoulders already shaking with a laugh.

You don't realize your chest is rumbling until it stops. "No." Blinking. No, that wasn't...

"Didn't know y' were this possessive of me," there's no arguing with him; he knows what he's heard. Already beginning to cover your cheek in kisses, his body shifting between your legs. That knot is still snug, tying your bodies together for the next half-hour at minimum. 

"I'm not possessive," you try, but it's hard to be convincing when he's looking at you with those pretty blue eyes like you're his whole world and then some. Maybe that's your hopeful heart talking, or maybe it's truly what you saw. 

"Yes, you are," amusement lacing his tone, "'s cute." 

If heaven's a moment, then you must be dead. 

There are too many things in this damn kitchen.

Scratch that, too many fucking cookies. Some still rising in the oven, and others are scattered on plates across the counter, with their stupid, sweet aroma that does nothing but give you a mild migraine. This idea was better in theory than in execution. You'll be damned if you get ambitious and decide to bake treats for everyone on the ranch again. 

A warmth greets your nose. Leather and something smokey sweet, like a marshmallow roasting over an open campfire. Just a hint of it at first, carrying in through the back door and swirling around the room like a loose tornado, growing in tune with the boots thunking toward you.

Clink.

Clink.

Clink.

"Are you ever taking those spurs off?" You chirp, too focused on setting this tray on top of the stove to look in his direction. If you drop these, your life might end on the spot.

Arms coil around your waist, the thick muscle rippling as he draws you back by an inch, your back coming to rest against a sturdy chest. Lips press to your cheek. One. Two. Three kisses. Leading down to his favorite grand finale: the scar on your neck. 

A shiver ripples up your spine. 

"Gon' have to leave soon," He doesn't answer your question. Probably because you already know the answer; he was going to, but he forgot. "'s a long drive, 'member?"

"Hang on, hang on." Placing the oven mitt off to the side, you reach for a cookie. Still warm, but no longer a burn hazard. Blindly, you lift it to your shoulder until he leans forward to take it with his mouth. "You go pro, and all of a sudden, you're insufferable again."

A chuckle rumbles out of him at that, but he's temporarily muzzled, the short hair on his chin tickling your skin when he nears the end of the cookie. His lips wrap around the tips of your fingers, stealing away the final piece. 

"Like you ain't got a thing for showin' me off after a good ride," his arms tighten as he speaks, fully securing you against him now. 

...and drawing your ass right into a familiar pressure. Don't need to look to know that you're pressing yourself back into the bulge in his jeans, heavy and looking for fun that you, unfortunately, don't have time for. "Are we still talking about bull riding?" 

Twisting in his arms is easy. You've done it so many times that you ought to know that you should draw your head back, but your noses collide anyway. Breaking the habit isn't worth it. 

"Dunno," he's got chocolate on the corner of his lip, and even his smile cannot distract you from it, "you tell me." 

This is a routine you've danced a hundred times. The pre-rodeo adrenaline that has him crawling all over you like some kind of love bug, desperate to relieve the tension building in his muscles. 

Relieving it is only temporary; you should know. You rode him within an inch of his life last month, and he still jumped the fence to get to you, the camera chasing him and touting you to the world as Rhett Abbott's mate—his omega, at that. So much for organically reaching out and introducing your family to the man you left everything for. 

You still need to answer the bombardment of texts that have been rotting in your phone. 

Careful to avoid the hot pan, your hand darts back toward the counter, feeling around until you find something warm and round. Making extra of these has been your best idea yet.

"Then we're talking about both," you pull him in for a kiss. Swift. Chaste. And before he can lean in and seek out any more, you shove the cookie into his mouth. 

Your shirt is gone before you can leave the kitchen. 

By the time your back hits the bedroom door, his hands are disappearing below your waistband, and sickly sweet chocolate is the only thing you can taste on his lips. There are things to do. Places to be. Bags to load into the car and a map to figure out.

But you fear you've grown addicted to these grumbling kisses of his, crave the warmth of his body against yours and all of the other things that come with him. It's a hunger you've never been able to satisfy, and not another alpha will do. Not one with money. Or someone that your family hand-picked. Or someone with a fancy cologne crafted by a brand you can't pronounce the name of.

Just this one. 

[lovings4turn]

☆ study motivation (james potter)

+ super self-indulgent ramble because i too have just cried over an assignment i can't bring myself to work on. banner from cafekitsune

"i thought you said you had an assignment due?"

james stands in the doorway to your bedroom, toned arms folded across his bare chest.

"i do," you admit, not looking up at him. you don't even bother to lift your head from where it's resting in your hands, laptop long forgotten in front of you.

you know that your assignment is important. james also knows that your assignment is important, as you were complaining about it to him just the other day, moaning that four thousand words was an almost criminally unjust word count to request for one assignment. yet for some reason, you still can't bring yourself to work on it.

you're three hundred or so words in, and the stress is beginning to build. your mind is screaming at you to just stick it out and get your head down, but for some reason, you don't move. all you can do is worry about how little work you're doing, an infuriating cycle that you have no idea how to break.

james seems to sense your dilemma and pads into your room. he hums softly, resting his chin on the top of your head so he can scan the word document left open on your screen. an, admittedly impressive, essay plan stares back at him, accompanied by the beginning of your introduction. taking in just how complex your subject seems to be, he resists the urge to let out a low whistle or remark, not wanting to stress you out further.

you whine as his chin digs into your scalp, lifting your head in an effort to protest. james only grins.

"there, i got you to sit up, love. that's a start, right?"

"suppose so," you grumble, before wincing at your harsh tone.

you aren't upset at james, but annoyed at yourself for being stuck in a rut that should be so easy to get out of. the answer to your problem is clear: complete your assignment, and the stress will leave with it. still, the task seems impossible, and tears prick the corner of your eyes as the frustration builds.

"hey, hey, no tears, sweetheart."

james cups your face in his strong, warm hands as his thumbs delicately brush your cheekbones. he gnaws at the inside of his cheek for a moment, a tell tale sign that he's planning something, before he speaks up.

"okay, here's what we're going to do."

"we?"

"we." james confirms. "i am gonna go make you a cup of tea, because mum always told me that fixes everything."

your laugh takes a weight off of his shoulders.

"and when i get back, 'm gonna sit with you, and we'll get this done together. you already have your plan, yeah?"

you nod with a slight sniffle, and james presses a soft kiss to your nose.

"then we're already halfway there." james traces your cheek with his thumb once more before moving to stand up, chucking your chin as he does so. "give me two seconds, love."

"thank you, jamie," you say, unable to hold back a fond smile. "y'always know how to make things better."

james shrugs cheekily, sending you a wink and ruffling your hair. "what can i say, love? i'm magic."

[kurosstuff]

could you do 🍯 3 with girl dick lute?

Of course~ decided to do it like the last one in a way? Demon x angel plot♡♡ but it's a different plot is- execution day still though(cause I don't think she'd go to hell for anything else)

Warning(s): demon x angel, unprotected sex, girl dick lute, tail and horns thing, wing stuff? Idk, mating season(both of yours) afab reader, mating. Heat/ruts(mating season) , Lute is MEAN(but also praising you♡)

Didn't say if you wanted fem reader so I did gn reade

Gp! Lute x GN!demon reader

There are a lot of things you hated about hell. One of the biggest things? Was mating season. All demons go through with it- it's a normal thing. Considering sinners now have animal tributes, it's just something you'll have to deal with. No matter what you are- for some it's easier to handle and deal with.

But the beginning of it is the worst. It's like you've never BEEN in one before.

Panting you hid in the abandoned building, looking around, tail curled, tucking nervously. Its like God himself hated you the most. As if waiting to laugh in your face considering its execution day.

And your being hunted.

The flapping of wings nearby made you duck to hide, but you were too late something hit your side, making you fly to the side looking back. You saw her. A executioner staring you down.

Just your fucking luck. It's the leaders second in command. Lute.

"He-hey-" waving backing up, ignoring how she snarled stalking towards you as she found her prey. Her victim. "Been a while, huh lute?' Swallowing the last time you ran into her. You somehow out ran her.

Ever since? Her sights have been on you.

"Yeah. After you humiliated me. A sinner outrunning me? You got lucky" she snarled out swiping her sword to the side the blood on it flhong around.

It was fresh.

And, of course, your big mouth had to just speak. "Yeah, six times, is it?" Cursing yourself for uttering that. How she stopped and stared snarling wings fluttering flapping. You really did it now.

You pissed her off more.

Yelping, you turned rushing off. "NO NO IM SORRY LUTE SHIT-" you screamed out, racing into the first room you could find stumbling into it. A dead end. Seriously? Who the fuck sleeps in a room with no windows? Sighing, you turned barley missed the swipe of the sword from lute as she attempted to kill you.

With her being silent? You knew you really fucked up. Hearing her snarling and..panting? You turned, kicking her back roughly. "Sorry!" You couldn't help but call out as she luckily? Landed on the bed. Turning around she on her back she groaned taking a moment-

Taking the time with her on her back, you pounced on her, holding her down. "Stop! I- I don't wanna fight!" As she squirmed, trying to buck you off, making you whine unaware she's trying to stop you from feeling her shame. Her guilt for feeling like this in this situation.

Gasping finally feeling something poking your thigh smirking, you grind against her waist slowly, making her moan snarling up at you. "y-your mating season is here too?" Whining softly as she grabbed your waist roughly bucking up into your hips, panting heavily

"Yeah~" she whined softly, getting harder at the reveal. "fuck~ you fought me on your mating day? Did you want to get fucked?" She snarled out allowing you to reach up taking her mask off biting her lip kissing you deeply flipping you onto your back

Gasping ypu flushed looking up at her "i- I had to! Had no choice it comes when it wants!" You panted out on instinct, almost submitting to her looking away feeling guilty. By the smirk on her

You knew she saw-

"Guess there's only one thing to do, no?" She purred out, grinding against you, leaning to take her shirt off "we fuck of course. We're both on our mating season? Why not?" She hummed answering for you when you didn't reply "I'm gonna ask you once. Do you want this" She huffed out

Gently rubbing your waist wasn't what you expected from her, but here she was, waiting for you to think ignoring her instincts. "Yes. I... I want this" humming in approval she kissed you leaning back to strip you using her sword - "wha- I- my shirt!" You huffed flushed seeing her roll her eyes

"Take my jacket after. Ok?" Grunting leaning back, pulling her pants down- pulling her hard cock out already leaking pumping herself slowly groaning softly "fuck~" moving close testing rubbing her tip on your entrance smirking

"Wait, wait! You're too big!" You gasped moaning at the sheer length of her- making her hum rubbing herself on your entrance, grinding against you moaning against your neck leaning back "you- will you even fit-?"

"I'll go slow" at first- left unsaid not fully answering- grinding more on you covering her cock in your slick she hummed "it won't hurt slipping in. Your to deep in your heat you'd already pooling of yourself." She Grunting slowly pushing into you moaning loudly "fuck~ your tight~"

"Oh- oh god~" you sobbed out, spreading your legs more, feeling her push in more stretching you fully "too much~" moaning loudly under her tail thumping whining more when she reached gently taking your tail making you gasping loudly slipped under her

"You were just crying for my attention sweetheart~ now your begging me to stop? You sure that's what you want~?" She hummed, moaning, pounding into you, gasping."fuck~ getting even tighter for me~ fucking rutting against me before no~? Now you want me to stop" Leaning back rubbing your tail, watching you squirm more under her gently pinching it making you sob moaning drawing a loud whine

"No~" you begged out, sobbing under her kissing her deeply sobbing out her name, making her smirk pinching your tail, causing you to gasp whining lewdly

"That's my good pet~" she purred, shoving Into you fully moaning loudly eagerly fucking you into the bed panting heavily "thank God there was a bed here no?" Kissing along your neck hearing the purrs mixed with your moans "fuck you like this~? Being fucked by your greater?" She moaned out gasping leaning up pulling you by your horns to show your neck more- forcing you into submission for her "that's a good pet~" panting heavily pounding rougher into you flushed darkly

Whining loudly wrapping your legs around her waist, yanking her deeper into her, fully submitting to her "oh fuck please~ c-claim me~" you sobbed out holding her close watching her wings flap in approval. Puffing in a way to show off- like a dance of sorts "oh please~?"

Humming biting your neck roughly "claim you? You want to be my mate?' She growled out pounding rougher holding the bed- your sobs moaning for her, making her hum "your tail sensitive or something?" Rubbing it making you nod sobbing out

"It- its a courting thing ~ like like- sensitive makes them want to be mated-" You choked out arching your back into her at her unrelenting pace "horns and tails make- make demons horny at the touch If not careful~" flushed at her smirk as she tugged at your tail once more

"Guess I'll take you as mine then, huh? My pet?" Pounding roughly leaning close biting at your neck,"making you my mate~? Mine?" Purring out moaning heavily holding their waist roughly claiming you as hers.

She didn't care for the consequences(she does but she's so lost in her rut to acknowledge it) that she does do it. She bites down roughly "my mate ~ my sinner~" she snarled out her cock twitching deep inside you moaning heavily feeling you tighten around her moaning her name out smirking she hummed "yeah you like that? Like being claimed?" Groaning "fuck~ go ahead cum for me my pet~"

Sobbing our nodding, releasing around her clinging to her feeling her pound deeper shoving fully into you cumming deep inside with a loud moan snarling into your neck claiming you from the inside as well "fuck~" Sobbing out panting heavily rocking up into her feeling yourself gush onto the bed from them "n-need more~" you gasped out sobbing out for her

"Fuck~ yeah?" Pounding into you against groaning, twitching deep inside you,"want more? Fill you up more~?" Kissing you deeply relishing in the moans and cries you let out for her "fuck~ doing so fucking good what a good whore I have huh?" Snarling against your lips wings puffing up expanding fully flapping happily showing off smug

"Yes fuck yes~" you sobbed out moaning arching your back cumming around her cock again sobbing from the overestimating from the unrelenting pounding- the roughness from her "oh please~ please~" Sobbing out loudly

Groaning "this- is this the last time~ go-got to go-" hearing the alarm go off for her to come back snarling loudly pounding roughly into you- shoving fully into you so lost in her rut she couldn't hold back cumming deep inside you once more moaning loudly rocking into you slowly before slowly gently pulling out watching you gush of her. Feeling smug- possessive she properly mated you.

Made you hers.

Humming, she reached up, plucking a feather from her wing, putting it on your chest "wear it. Make it a necklace" putting a claim physically on you. "Accept my mateship by putting it on~?" Purring out kissing you gently moving to get dressed quickly putting her jacket on you rubbing your twitching legs

After a moment, she fled. Flying away without a goodbye(she hoped to see you again) humming, she smiled happily, hopping it all would end well for you both.

-

-

-

But all acts. Have consequences. Mating a demon as an angel? Would have a consequence

[drugs-and-daddyissues]

𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐗

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎 You're a pornstar, and you ask him to make a video with you. And who is he to deny you?

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 explicit smut, p in v sex, oral (m! receiving), videotaping sexual activities, a bit of edging?, Dom/sub undertones if you squint, dom briefly sub! Johnny, sub briefly dom! Reader, a little degradation, Johnny refers to himself as 'Daddy' multiple times

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 Johnny Depp x f! reader

A/N: elaboration of this post, request.

You'd been thinking about the possibility for a while, what if you just asked your boyfriend, the famous Johnny Depp, to be in a porn video with you?

One day, you decided to just ask him, having already set up the cameras since you were going to record something, whether it was with him or not.

"Hey honey? Could I ask you something?" You came to him saying. You had a hoodie and sweatpants on over your lingerie, as you thought that would be most appropriate right now.

He looked up from his laptop, no doubt going over the script for his new movie, but of course he'd made time for you, his pretty little lover. "Of course, love. What's up?" He asked, shifting his hips slightly and God you didn't want to admit how attractive that one motion was, how it had already sent sparks of anticipation to your core. And of course he was wearing those slutty gray sweatpants.

You took a deep breath, sucking in your nerves before just being straightforward, "Okay, I'm gonna ask you something, and you can say no.. But, okay, you know what I do for a living?" You asked, trying to warm him up.

Of course he knew what you did, not like he cared, because it was just you. You never slept with anyone else for your job, since you were going independent, and you had always been loving and came home to him. He wasn't judgemental of it, I mean, get your bag girl. "Yeah, of course I do, what about it?" He asked, closing his laptop

"How would you feel about making a video with me?" You asked, just cutting straight to the chase. You could see he had a slightly shocked expression on his face when he let out an amused laugh.

"A video with you? Love, are you sure?" He asked, trying to push the ideas of what you'd film down to hide his arousal, but you could already see the tent forming in his pants

You just nodded, "I'm dead serious, so.. If you want to, and only if you want to, I would like to make a video with you."

He was already smirking and putting his closed laptop on the coffee table before you even finished your sentence. "Count me in."

Your video camera was recording the filthy scene on your bed, you between his legs, mouth bobbing up and down his length, occasionally gagging on it, looking up at him with pathetic eyes. He just grabbed your hair, whispering words of praise.

"So fucking good for me. " "Yeah, that's it, take my cock just like that, love."

He could feel that tightening pleasure coming on, but just before he could cum, you pulled your mouth off, leaving him desperate and on the edge of release.

"Come on, please darling. " He begged as you stood over him on your knees, panties long discarded.

"If we're gonna do this, we're gonna do it my way." You said, giggling. You lowered over him, your wet folds rubbing against the tip of his cock. And God, he wanted to push inside you so badly, his hips trying to rut up desperately, but you wouldn't let him

"Please baby, I'll do anything, make you feel so good. " He begged, his hands gently squeezing your hips, rubbing you against his cock.

You chuckled at his desperation, quickly sinking down on his hard length, mouth open in a silent moan, which Johnny took as an opportunity to shove his tongue in your mouth. There was something thrilling about knowing that you would post your intimate activities later, letting the whole damn world see how good your boyfriend fucks you.

Immediately he started fucking up into you, holding your hips steady while you moan into his ear- when his lips aren't capturing yours of course.

Suddenly and quickly he pulled out, flipping you over gently so your ass was up and your chest was pressed into the mattress. He tapped his cock against your ass, letting the wetness from both of you fall onto your skin. "Shouldn't have teased me like that, doll. " He said with a smirk on his face, before pushing back into you, not wasting anytime before his movements were fast.

Obscene noises filled the room, your muffled moans, the slapping of skin, and the beautiful sound of his groans. "That's it, baby, let the whole fuckin' world see how much of a slut you are for me. Daddy's good little girl" He said, his voice low and sultry.

His voice, God, his voice did it for you every time and he knew that, could feel the way your greedy cunt was clamping down around him.

"Gonna cum for me, pretty girl? Gonna fucking cover Daddy's cock?" He cooed as he kept thrusting into you from behind, earning pretty little moans and whimpers from you.

"Mhm, don't stop- mmmm, so close." You whined, the tip of his dick continuing to hit that spongey spot inside you, the pressure building up in your stomach.

He just chuckled, but now at your desperation. "Mhm, that's it. Cum on my cock, pretty girl, wanna feel your tight fucking pussy milking this cock. " He purred softly, knowing he wasn't gonna be able to hold on for much longer.

He gently took the camera off your tripod, angling it down towards where his dick met your pussy, as you came undone. With a few more sloppy thrusts, he was spilling his load inside you. He stayed inside you for a couple of seconds before pulling out, letting your combined arousal leak out of your used hole.

Very quickly, that video became your most popular one, and something about it made him feel prideful. As you were checking the statistics on the video, he came up behind you, gently rubbing his clothed erection against your ass.

"You know, love, I wouldn't mind doing a part 2." He whispered in your ear, his hands trailing up your body.

Yeah, you were in for a long day.

As always, likes, comments, follows, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading and supporting my work <3 - 🪐

☆ like what you've read? masterlist

[sturniolosass]

I..want you - C.S

In which Chris tries to handle a relationship that he’s no where near ready for, and you can’t have your emotions be toyed with…

warnings: swearing, feeling neglected, uncertainty, hurt feelings, talking stage chris.

ANGST, FAT ANGST!

Chris and I have been in this "talking" stage for around 3 months but the thing is stuff has been getting really serious and its gotten to the point where we've become so attached to one another that we see each other each day and sleep in each others beds, at one point we both spoke on marriage.. not like seriously about it but what we’d like to gain from it..if you get what i mean.

But this pass week somethings been off, I've texted, I've called, I've messaged him through DMs for christ's sake.. No reply..

So today I've been contemplating heading over to the boy's place and seeing what's been going on.. maybe he's sick, maybe he's down in a rut about something... I'm not sure but I need to see what's going on maybe I'll stop by and even find out they're out of internet or something.. I couldn't imagine the reason Chris would ghost me for 3 whole days.. He doesn't even seem like the type of guy to go talking to a bunch of girls, I couldn't imagine him being unfaithful to me, even though we're barely a couple to begin with.. regardless heading over there wouldn't hurt that bad... at least I hope not..

Getting dressed I head out the door sending chris one last message before I head out to his home.

Hey, I'm headed over, i know I wasn't invited so if you don't want me over or something just let me know...

I wait 10 minutes, No response

I grab my keys and head out the door.

Arriving I hop out the car to knock on the door, I'm greeted with Matt. "Yo! what's up, Chris should still be sleep but he's in the basement if you wanna wake em" he greets. "hey, yeah I've been looking for him" I speak. He let's me in walking up the steps to the living room.. I immediately head to the back of the house towards Chris' room, walking down the steps and then the hallway leading up to his door. I hesitate, thinking of all the things that could possibly go wrong when I turn this door knob.. twisting the door knob I'm met with a pitch black room.. a sleeping Chris laying flat on his stomach with one knee bent up north.

I just sit at the edge of the bed contemplating whether or not I should wake him and risk being greeted with his morning anguish.. Being the pussy I am, I just kick off my shoes and lay with him, picking his arm up off the bed and snuggling under it cozily.. He moves mumbling under his breathe inaudible words... I soon fall asleep right next to him..

Chris' POV

I wake up unexpectedly cuddled into y/n confused as to how she amazingly got into my room yet alone my house... Things like this genuinely annoy me, I've started to distance myself for some time now because of how serious we were getting, it began to really freak me out.. from the goodmorning messages to the worrying about my sleep schedule... things started feeling all too real. Don't get me wrong I really, really like y/n but us doing all these lovey-dovey things really scares me... aggravated I head upstairs to find out who the fuck just let her come down here while I was sleeping... Once I'm up the stairs I see Nick and Matt sitting at the dining room table, Nick editing, Matt eating cereal. "ouuu Mr. lover boy is up, how was you cuddle session?" Matt jokes.."Matt shut the fuck up, who the fuck- who just let y/n in my room and when did that happen? I didn't even go to bed until like 4 am so I know it was one of you fucking early birds" I ask angrily grabbing a Brisk can from the fridge.. "wasn't me." Nick blurts.. "who cares, its not like she was gonna murder you.. she said she was looking for you.." Matt explains.. "bro I was ignoring her for a reason.." I shout.. "well she's here now, what were you gonna ghost her something? did she do something?" He asks.. "yeah she's getting all weird and clingy and shit.." .... "like asking 'how my day was' and' if I slept well' and shit" I add... Matt looks at me weirdly "you mean caring about your well being? you're such an idiot" He gets up from the table heading to his room.. "GRAB YOUR FUCKING BOWL IM NOT YOUR MAID" Nick nearly busts my ear drums yelling at Matt.. "dude are you crazy?" I ask heading to the steps that lead to my bedroom.. "shut up bitch" Nick rolls his eyes...

Your POV

I wake up in Chris' bed alone.. not worried where he went I just wait for him to come back down the steps which is where I assume he went, starting to scroll on TikTok I hear Nick scream at the top of his lungs about 'being a maid' which I laugh at..

I then hear Chris heading back down the stairs, I hurriedly sit up fix my hair worried of what he'll have to say to me, then I start to think of what I should say to him.. I don't even know how I feel.. I wanna talk about us moving forward in our relationship but I also need to figure out why he's been acting all distant lately, I hope he doesn't think I haven't noticed.. because to be honest it feels like he has literally blocked me out of his life for the past 3-4 days..

He enters the room I stare down at my feet He walks straight pass me.. I look up. He heads straight into his bathroom... I flop back down on his bed..

Getting up from the bed I decide to make it, fluffing the duvet, tucking the sheets , fluffing the pillows.. Chris has been in the bathroom for around an hour now, I hear music, assuming he's in the shower, I clean a little more. Throwing away Pepsi cans and food casing from last night, I assume.. grabbing dirty clothes off the floor throwing them in his hamper... Suddenly I hear the water and music stop.. shuffling in the bathroom continues until Chris comes out in fresh love sweats and a black tank top, dropping his dirty clothes on the bed near his bed and heading over to his computer, I grab them and throw then in the hamper to which I assume irritates Chris.. "Can you stop!" Chris shouts... "wha-" I start to speak soon being cut off, "like you're being weird leave my clothes where I left then I didn't ask you to clean for me!" He adds.. "I mean what else am I supposed to do? You've been ignoring my presence sense I got here!" I shout back... "go home! I don't fucking know!" He replies.. "what the fuck is even your problem? like what have I even done for you to react this way to me cleaning for you?" I ask genuinely confused... He doesn't respond.. "hellooo" I speak in a questioning manner... “maybe i just don’t like you anymore and don’t need you to be here, i’m starting to even question why i did in the first place like you’re being so fucking annoying and clingy” he huffs… “all you do is bug me now gosh!” he adds…. I look to the ground genuinely hurt… it honestly makes sense, every guy i like always ends up ghosting me and it makes sense why at this point.. i can’t help that i am too “caring”.. apparently that freaks out a lot of guys..

“what so this is how you treat every girl you like? or liked?” i ask.

"I was ready to drop everything and be your girlfriend, in fact my plan today was to come ask you to be with me..I was ready for everyone to know how we've been these pass few months and not give a fuck what any hater or 'fan has to say.." I say holding back emotions.. "I never said I was ready for that, I never spoke on being together like that" He speaks.. "So what? we were just gonna be 'talking' for however long?" I ask. No response.. He just continues to stare at his computer screen. I just look back and sit down on his bed. blinking back tears.. He stares at the computer screen, nothing on it, not scrolling, no video, no music, nothing... Just staring, deep in thought...

We sit in silence for around 10 minutes before I speak again

"Chris?, can you say something? because I've done nothing but try to keep things working between us.. You've ignored me for almost 3 days when before you'd message me everyday 'How are you' , 'come over' , 'when are you free' , 'lets see a movie' , 'lets hang out before I leave for Boston.' " I count off examples.. "I just don’t get how we can go from something so good.. or what I thought was good, to you completely ignoring my existence." I add.. He continues to stare at the blank screen, until.. "I don't know okay, I just feel weird when I'm around you? you're always so caring and shit like that freaks me the fuck out..." he breaks silence. "I never feel this deep of feelings for anything, its fucking annoying.." He adds... "Well, I care about you.. its true, I care about how you slept, I care if you have a nightmare, I care if you feel a cold coming on, I care if you're upset with how much I care... because I genuinely like you Chris, and I don't know maybe this is one of those " right person, wrong time" moments because I feel like we deserve each other..." I speak whole-heartedly.. He just stares at his hands... I stand up.. "maybe in another life then?" I ask headed for the door... He doesn't respond.

I grab the door knob opening it slowly hoping he'd say something to keep me from leaving...n

"wait" he speaks "I wanna try- I want you- I wanna be with you..." he adds looking up from the floor despair in his eyes. "Chris I just don't feel like you're ready for what I'm ready for.." I reply.. “i’m ready- i am” he pleads… “how when just a moment ago you were telling me you were unsure if you even liked me” i ask… He looks down at his hands, I grab my bag and keys walking out of the room..

I hear him get up rushing out the room, he slows down once he sees me standing at the steps. Walking up to me slowly he pulls me in for a kiss, which i kindly reject hoping he gets the hint.. “i like you a lot Y/N.. i just- i need time to understand my self more. i’ve been used and hurt so many times..” he tells.. I just look at his hands in mine.. letting go i turn to walk up the steps… “can i call you later?” he asks.. I turn back “i feel like time apart might actually be what we need at this time, my feelings are genuinely hurt by the things you’ve said to me today” i reply. “i didnt mean it- you know that…” he looks up at me… I walk up the steps walking past Nick and leaving the boys house “bye Y/N see you sometime again hopefully, i know my brothers an asshole” Nick yelps from the dinning table…

I smile walking out the door.. knowing that’s possibly the end of my friendship with the boys…

fin.

A/N: the long awaited.. sorry yall i got busy but here it is!!! Hope yall like Chris and his trust issues!

taglist- @junnniiieee07 @frankdelreyy @ireadstoriss @freshsturns @unbruisable

[genericpuff]

Thoughts on Epic the musical?

It's pretty good so far! I'm still a sucker for Hadestown over everything else but uh, funny story, actually...

So recently my husband and I had to make a trip out of town to pick up a marketplace item. Basically an hour drive there, an hour back, fun little afternoon trip. And while we were driving, I made a joke about how he shouldn't "sass me" because I'm in charge of the music and I could, y'know, force us to listen to musicals for the entire trip.

In all my hubris, I forgot that my husband likes musicals. He really likes musicals.

So when he called "bet" I was like "welp shit... guess I'll put on Epic because at least I haven't listened to it a million times like I have already with Hadestown."

Y'all. That was like... three weeks ago? Going on a month? He is obsessed with Epic now. He has been listening to it on repeat, watching the animatics, gushing about the plot threads and character development, and he was the first one to tell me "hey the next part of Epic is up, please go listen to it so we can talk about it!!!"

So yeah, Epic is great and while it's not my personal favorite, it's definitely struck a chord with him 😆 And that makes me really happy to see ngl because he tends to get stuck in ruts a lot with the media he consumes, new and exciting things are hard to come by for him (plus we're both judgy bitches so it's also a matter of finding stuff that actually delivers on the hype LOL), so when he DOES find something he connects with so deeply, it just... idk it makes me happy to see him happy :' ) <3 He's up to his neck in the thrill of a shiny new hyperfixation (•̀ᴗ•́)و

So yeah, Epic is very good so far, if you haven't listened to it yet you should definitely check it out (just note that it's an ongoing project so get used to cliffhangers LMAO) and if you don't believe me, believe my husband who's way smarter about musicals than I am, he's given it his 10/10 stamp of approval and that's a pretty big honor ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡

[ddejavvu]

hey if you’re not too busy could you do sth with like perv!eddie seeing the reader (his gf) in a bikini and he like dry humps her or sth? if not it’s okay i hope you’re having a good day<333

combined with: could you do something where the innocent!reader and perv!eddie are gonna go swimming but he sees her in a bikini and he just can’t help himself please? if you’re busy that’s okay!!<333

thank you both for being so sweet :D <33

this post is 18+, minors dni.

"I'm gonna head inside for a sec," You call out to Robin, "I want a snack!"

Your bathing suit is still soaked, puddles left behind where your feet hit the ground. But you towel off just before you go inside, bundling yourself up so that you don't drip onto the floor.

You head straight for the kitchen, reaching eagerly for a cookie. It's frosted, and you feel some of the white frosting smear messily across your upper lip when you sink your teeth into it.

"Good cookie?" Eddie's voice comes from behind you, his arms caging you to the counter and startling you.

"Eddie!" You gasp, your chest heaving as you turn clumsily around to face him, "God, you scared me!"

He's wet. You had the courtesy to dry yourself off before coming inside, but it looks like Eddie beelined to follow you and neglected his towel. His hair is stringy, water droplets dripping onto his chest and streaking down the skin there that's littered with tattoos.

You gulp. He notices.

A sly smirk flits over his face, and he leans down to kiss the frosting off of your lips. His tongue slides smoothly over the smear of icing, collecting it and sweeping it into your mouth. He spreads it over your own tongue, the sugary taste of vanilla marking your kiss.

As much as you're enjoying the sticky sweet kiss, you know you'll never hear the end of it if you get caught making out in the kitchen. You push against Eddie's water-dotted chest, lips shining with saliva under the lights as you pull away.

"We're gonna get caught," You warn him with wide eyes and an accusatory finger, "We cannot get caught."

"We won't get caught," Eddie scoffs, glancing behind you at the tray of sweets, "Get me a cookie?"

You mumble something along the lines of 'get it yourself', but there's no malice in your mind to match that in your voice. You'll grumble and groan at Eddie all day long, but you love the man.

You turn back so that your stomach is pressed against the counter, fingers outstretched and reaching for another one of the frosted treats. Before you can grab it, though, you feel Eddie's hands clamp down over your sides, your hips yanked backwards slightly as he thrusts his own forwards.

You barely contain your indignant shout, but the squeak you let out is still dangerously loud. Eddie huffs as one hand flies from your waist and out towards your half-eaten cookie, stuffing it in your mouth that's still ajar in shock.

"I thought you were the one worried about getting caught," Eddie drawls, voice condescending and wry against your ear, "Maybe you should stop making so much noise if you don't want anyone else to know what's happening."

You can't spit the cookie out onto Steve's nice, clean countertops, but the mouthful of dry, flaky dough combines with much-too-rich frosting and creates a perfect paste that glues your mouth shut. All you can do is breathe through your nose, slowly working through your mouthful. All the while, Eddie tugs your hips closer, cock hardening against his soaked swimsuit.

The towel you'd wrapped yourself in flops to the counter after Eddie yanks at it, a full view of your body now accessible to him. He groans, muffling the sound against the skin just below your ear. He ruts desperately against your ass, one hand snaking around your waist to thumb at your clit. The sensation makes you gasp, and as a result, your core throbs. Your stomach caves, and it only allows Eddie to yank you closer, his lips slick as they mash into your skin.

"God fuck," Eddie breathes, "It's like- like you're just wearing a bra! And- underwear, shit."

"It's just a swimsuit," You croak, cakey dough still clogging your throat.

"Shut up," Eddie scoffs, reaching blindly for something else to stuff in your mouth and coming up only with the semi-wet towel, "Here. Bite this."

"I don't want to- oh!" You yelp, the fabric already on your tongue, "Eddie!"

It comes out muddled and groggy, but he hears it. His fingers tighten on your hips and you feel his cock twitch, somewhere tight against your ass. He cums with a shuddering breath and a shaky swear, eyes squeezed shut, not that you can see it from where he hovers over your shoulder. The fabric of his swim trunks, already wet, doesn't show the stain, and you know he's grateful for that as he plans his escape to the bathroom. He barely remembers to take the towel out of your mouth in his rush to flee the scene before witnesses arrive, but when he does, he presses a kiss to the spot where it sat.

"Thanks, sweetheart," He grins, eyes mischievous, "Meet me in the pool house later to shower off, we can go for round two."

[buffkitties]

Okay, now what if sdr2 went the exact same way, but it was also omegaverse. Everything is literally the same except Hinata Hajime is just a fucking omega among alphas and they use omegaverse terms.

This damn alpha..!

His pheromones sure are strange... Maybe I should be careful around this guy...

Man... At least I've already gone through my heat... I don't have to worry about embarrassing myself in front of everybody here...

S-Slick maker..?!

Huh... Seems like alphas also have their own problems. We're not that different, after all...

G-Gh... How can you talk about knotting so casually..? It's like you have no shame at all...

S-Seriously, stop talking about it already..!

Marking, my ass...

I've never actually thought about getting a mate. If I'm being honest, I actually find that thought a little embarrassing... Being claimed that way sounds humiliating.

H-Huh?! I smell fine..! What do you mean?!

Hey now... Just because I'm an omega doesn't mean I don't get this stuff, you know...

C-Crap..! They're right... I don't actually know that much about ruts..!

I just think it'd be hilarious

[carleycore]

Please more “when they try to insult you” with Suga maybe?

When they insult you (Sugawara and Iwaizumi)

a/n yippeee a requesttt!!! I hope it's to your liking.

genre: hurt/comfort angst

part one part two part three part four part five

(not having a job)

The sun is setting outside, casting a warm glow over the living room. You sit on the couch, flipping through job listings on your laptop. The atmosphere is tense, a silence hanging heavily between you and Sugawara. He's been quiet since he got home, and you can feel the weight of unspoken words pressing down on both of you.

"Koushi, how was your day?" you ask, trying to break the silence.

"It was fine," he replies shortly, not looking up from the paperwork he's going through.

You bite your lip, feeling the strain in his voice. "I was thinking about applying to some jobs I found today. What do you think?" You ask, showing him a couple of job listings on your phone.

He finally looks up, his eyes tired and frustrated. "That's great, (Y/N). But honestly, it feels like you've been saying that for a while now."

The words hit you hard. "I'm trying, Koushi. You know how hard it is to find something right now."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I know you're trying, but it's just... It's hard doing everything on my own. I feel like all the financial burden is on me, and it's exhausting."

Your heart sinks, tears welling up in your eyes. "I'm doing my best. It's not like I want to be unemployed. I'm constantly looking for opportunities."

"Sometimes it feels like you're not trying hard enough," he says, his voice rising. "I come home tired every day, and it feels like nothing's changing. I can't do this by myself forever, (Y/N)."

You stand up, your hands shaking. "I'm sorry I'm not finding a job as quickly as you'd like, Koushi. But I'm trying, and it hurts that you think I'm not doing enough."

He opens his mouth to respond but then stops, his expression softening as he sees the pain in your eyes. "I didn't mean it like that, (Y/N). I just... I'm so stressed. It's hard to see a way out sometimes."

You nod, tears spilling down your cheeks. "I understand you're stressed, but taking it out on me isn't fair. We're supposed to support each other."

He steps closer, his face filled with regret. "You're right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I'm just scared and tired, and I took it out on you. Can you forgive me?"

You wipe your tears away, taking a deep breath. "I can forgive you, Koushi, but we need to communicate better. We're a team, remember?"

He pulls you into a tight embrace, his voice breaking. "I know. I'm so sorry, (Y/N). I love you, and I don't want to hurt you. We'll get through this together."

You hold onto him, feeling the warmth and sincerity in his embrace. "I love you too. We'll find a way. Just promise me you'll talk to me about how you're feeling instead of bottling it up."

He nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I promise. We'll face everything together."

As you stand there, wrapped in each other's arms, the tension begins to melt away, replaced by a renewed sense of closeness and understanding. You know there will be challenges ahead, but as long as you face them together, you'll be okay.

(not being as active????)

The house is quiet, your toddler finally asleep after a long day. You’re in the kitchen, cleaning up the remnants of dinner. Iwaizumi walks in, his face lined with exhaustion. He’s been distant lately, the weight of his responsibilities at work and home pressing heavily on him.

“Hey,” you greet him softly, hoping to ease the tension. “How was your day?”

“Tiring,” he mutters, dropping his gym bag on the floor. “Every day feels the same.”

You nod, understanding his fatigue all too well. “I know it’s hard, Hajime. But we’re getting through it.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Are we? It doesn’t feel like it. It feels like I’m stuck in a rut, and nothing’s changing.”

You swallow, trying to keep your voice steady. “We’re doing the best we can. It’s tough with a toddler, but we’re managing.”

He suddenly turns to you, frustration flashing in his eyes. “You know, I was talking to Oikawa today. His wife still manage to go out, have fun, keep things exciting. But you… you never go out. It’s like you’ve given up.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. “What?” you whisper, tears springing to your eyes. “I’m taking care of our child, Hajime. It’s not like I have a lot of free time.”

He rubs his temples, clearly regretting his words but too tired to take them back. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… I miss how things used to be. Before we had all these responsibilities.”

You take a shaky breath, trying to hold back your tears. “I miss it too. But this is our life now, and we need to support each other. Comparing me to Oikawa’s wife isn’t fair.”

He steps closer, his expression softening. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just so tired and stressed, and I took it out on you. That was wrong.”

You look at him, your heart aching. “I’m tired too, Hajime. But I’m doing my best. We both are.”

He reaches out, pulling you into his arms. “I know. I’m sorry for making you feel like you’re not enough. You’re more than enough, (Y/N). I love you, and I appreciate everything you do for our family.”

You cling to him, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I love you too. Just… please, don’t compare me to others. We’re doing what we can, and that’s enough.”

He nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I promise. We’ll get through this together.”

You rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “Maybe we can find a way to make things more exciting, even with our responsibilities,” you suggest softly. “We can plan a date night at home after our little one is asleep, or take turns giving each other a break.”

He smiles, the tension in his shoulders easing. “That sounds like a good idea. I miss spending time with you, just the two of us.”

“Me too,” you agree, feeling a flicker of hope. “We’ll find a balance, Hajime. It won’t always be easy, but we’re in this together.”

He tightens his embrace, his voice filled with determination. “Together. I promise to be more understanding and to communicate better. We’ll make this work.”

As you hold each other, the hurt begins to fade, replaced by a renewed sense of closeness and understanding. You know there will be challenges ahead, but as long as you face them together, you’ll be okay. The future might be uncertain, but with Hajime by your side, you feel ready to take on whatever comes your way.