#i put this together a bit ago or at least most of it

[lovepmd]

Chaos AU main duo

Kelpie- sher/her, approx age 19

A shiny galarian ponyta that was born and raised in a village full of psychic types. She lives with her mother, a galarian rapidash. She sometimes plays with her friend, a solosis that lives next to her. She loves learning everything she can, mainly about psychic types and all the different abilities that they can have. Next to learning how to control her power, she was also told from a very early age to not go near a specific cave by the shore near the village. None of the adults or the two elders of the village could tell her exactly why though, only that it was important to stay away from it.

Amara - they/she, approx age ??

A dragalge that was found by Kelpie in a cave, trapped inside a bubble and unable to be heard. Their kind are very rare in the area, so Kelpie didn't recognize their species. They don't seem to need to eat any sort of food and have been in the cave for a long time.

spoilers for the first 6/7 chapters below

Amara is a human soul that has been reincarnated over and over in order to help save the pokemon world again and again. They began to remember their past lives and grew bored of the world as a whole. After (purposely but also accidentally) killing their last partner, they went on to cause chaos in the world. They were eventually cornered and sealed in a cave by a team of pokemon, and they spent many many years trapped in a bubble.

[ganondoodle]

(Original art) Xaror, any pronouns, species (?), age (?)

short summary about them; they act as both an antagonist and an ally since they are only really interested in what they want or whats fun to them, they are immortal and call themselves 'death itself' since they have a special connection to souls (being the only one able to communicate with them) and the ability to seperate souls from their bodies in such a way that nothing can harm the soul afterwards their main goal is to .. bother and disturb the 'celestials'*, which they hate, as much as they can, breaking into their palace, freeing prisoners, destroying research, destroying the place, and most importantly, making as many souls unusable to them as possible-

they dont want to destroy the celestials though, they cant fight them anyway and this game of doing 'good' only with the goal of annoying them is their most treasured activity, so Xaror doesnt intend to stop them from killing or hurting anyone, only from harvesting what they are actually after (though Xaror doesnt actually care as little as they think they do about people, and has a soft spot for demons)

most of their appearance is later into the story; Zaphira (the empress) had been in coma and the medical facility she was treated in was destroyed by Shargon (orange eyed demon who acts as her bodyguard for the first part) in an attempt to save her from her estranged relatives taking over her country after they heard of her decline in health, she is believed dead but washes up on the shore of the mountain Xaror resides at years later (it has a reason, too much to write here) and they slowly nurse her back to health, the reason they give for it is that they found their first encounter very fun, thats all (is it?)

(more lore under the cut bc this is already so long .. im trying to keep it short q-q ......... this is stuff i have been working on since i was a kid so uh, some things might be cheesy but i cant change them anymore ..)

just to get some basics out of the way; theres three worlds, the celestials palace, human world and demon world, each are their own planet connected via different gateways

*celestials (possibly not final name, loosely based on angels) are the last remaining "survivors" of their planets demise, when their world died the most powerful among them cannibalized the weaker to sustain themselves until there were only less than 10 left, who each turned into different beings from it and dont resemble their own people much anymore, they built a palace from what was left on their world that protects them from space as its atmosphere collapsed shortly after- however they still needed something to live off; they discover the human world and are delighted to find rather short lived people with powerful souls, the best kind of sustenance for them (now), they aim to herd them like cattle, but a problem arose when it turned out another world has long been in contact with the human world; demons

demons are semi immortal creatures that act as protectors for their world, protection they extended, more or less secretely, to the human world ensuring them a long and secure life- the celestials need them to die at their whim though (demons are few in numbers, hard to kill and rarely have offspring, not an ideal target); as they worked out a plan on how to get rid of demons one of the celestials, Xanthriel (time) grew somewhat fond of people as they spent alot of time in the human world to observe and research them; in the end turning on their own completely, but losing the fight against Uriel (knowledge)

Xanthriel was supposed to be executed for their betrayal, but it doesnt work, instead they are splintered into many parts after a lot of struggle, most body, memory and most strength is one part (ending up as motionless forever bleeding corpse kept locked up in the palace), the rest is some time later gathered together and reforms as a seperate, weak mockery of them, they embody Xanthriels emotion- Xaror, without memory, strangely cut to pieces (hence all the missing limbs and broken halo) but driven by an unstoppable desire to disturb the celestials (they live seperate long enough to each become their own person, at some point Xaror discovers Xanthriels body after all and they merge back together, though as they are now two, Xanthriel only takes over once directly after merging, stays silent for a long time and lets Xaror be themselves, only later revealing that they are there at all .. hiding perhaps- i rarely have specific ideas for voices, but Xanthriels is like, like coarse rocks being violently rubbed against each other, less voice more noise)

(also, the celestials use Xanthriels blood from the day of their execution to create a plague that nearly wipes out all demons, only the youngest of them survived, effectively robbing them of everything, culture, history, knowledge etc- as demons rarely have children, like a complete restart of their society, they disappeared from the human world, and over time being largely forgotten as actually existing- the celestials wanted them all gone however, so they kept kidnapping them to try and find somethign that would work similarly against the young ones too (and then in general, bc the only usable blood of Xanthriel was from the day of their fall, and that has long since been used up) one of the young ones was Shargon, he was the only one still alive from his group

(also, the celestials use Xanthriels blood from the day of their execution to create a plague that nearly wipes out all demons, only the youngest of them survived, effectively robbing them of everything, culture, history, knowledge etc- as demons rarely have children, like a complete restart of their society, they disappeared from the human world, and over time being largely forgotten as actually existing- the celestials wanted them all gone however, so they kept kidnapping them to try and find somethign that would work similarly against the young ones too (and then in general, bc the only usable blood of Xanthriel was from the day of their fall, and that has long since been used up) one of the young ones was Shargon, he was the only one still alive from his group (he wasnt the strongest or special, he was jsut the last in the row and always got the lowest dosage) when Xaror found them in yet another break in into the palace and got him back to the demon world .. where he was promptly blamed for the others that were taken and treated like a pretender/fake/spy bc what he got put through changed his eye color (something that demons cannot change in any form) to one that does not exist among 'real' demons (orange ... notice the inner color of Xarors broken halo? :) ), some even suggesting killing him, but none of them were brave enough to do it (they were all kids still) .. except Eadrya (the big blue-ish one, largely regarded as the strongest demon alive) but Shargon managed to escape, and since then lived largely in isolation- this is part of why he is so hated, and why he starts to spend so much time in the human world after rediscovering the pathway there)

[came0dust]

i cannot keep drawing this dude on my phone but god do i love drawing him (+ bonus colors)

[screampied]

‘ I JUST WANNA HEAR YOU (S)CREAMMM ! ’

ᡴꪫ sum. what’s your favorite scary movie? is it carrie? psycho? or maybe nightmare on elm street? perhaps picking up the phone was a bad idea, but you don’t scare easily! or do you?

wc. 6.0k

warnings. fem! reader, ghostface geto & ghostface nanami, college au, threesōmes, unprotected, brief phone sēx, roleplay, dirty talk, praise, overstim, implied multiple ōrgasms, spit, manhandling, brēeding, hair pulling, oral (f & m receiving), cowgirl dp.

an. from this ask!

“hello.”

“hello?”

“what’s your favorite scary movie?”

you deadpan, almost as if you’ve seen this movie before. it was around close to midnight. you were the only one sober at some random frat party you got dragged to. everyone besides you were probably wasted or shoving tongues into mouths. sitting up on a cushioned bed, you hold the landline up to your ear. “mean girls two. bye.”

“….girl what? that’s not a—”

you hang up, averting your eyes back towards the tv screen that displayed some cheesy soap opera. about precisely thirteen seconds pass before the landline screeches a loud deafening ring again.

sighing, you answer it. “stop calling this number. prank calls aren’t funny.”

“no.” the voice replies, and it’s very deep—you swear you’ve heard something like it before. a best way to describe it was that it had a gruff pitch to it, baritone running all underneath it. his voice was also a bit sly too. “i just wanna talk to you.”

“bother some other girl. bye.”

“don’t hang up on me.”

for whatever reason, you don’t hang up. his voice sounded a bit stern—you sit up before growing quiet. you’re fully alert now.

“good girl. now, i’ll ask again. what’s your favorite scary movie?”

pressing your back against the comforter, your thighs squeeze together. with another vexed sigh, you say the most random movie that comes immediately to mind. “halloween.”

“pft. basic.”

“wha— you’re the one who asked.”

“oh, doll i’m just joking. but anyway, you like slasher movies, yeah?”

for whatever reason, the more you talked to this total stranger, you start to feel a sudden uncanny stir delve around your stomach. you weren’t scared, yet at least, but it was oddly peculiar. his voice sounds a bit familiar the more you listen to it. with how teasing the caller on the other line appeared, it was strangely intriguing. you kind of didn’t wanna hang up anymore, besides this party you were at was quite … not the best.

“not really. i am a jamie lee curtis fan though, i only watched because i make fun of the deaths.” you mumble.

“hmmm,” the voice hums through the other end. it’s as if he’s pondering what his next choice of words will be to you. “so…you got a boyfriend?”

you were taken aback by how abrupt the change of subject was. the man on the other end laughs at your awkward silence before you finally speak.

“no, and it’s not like it’s any of your business.”

“easy, girl. i’m just curious. besides, what if i wanna ask ya out?”

you grow quiet again before rubbing your neck, you were growing a bit hot.

“whatever. no, i don’t have a … boyfriend.”

“ooh. you hesitated there.”

you grumble. “shut up. i’m hanging up.”

the man immediately replies with a chortle.

“wait, wait. heh, serious though. you never told me your name, doll face.”

with an eye roll, you utter, “why do you wanna know my name?”

“because i wanna know who i’m looking at.”

“what?”

“what?”

each word he spoke breaks through the phone due the deep mess of his voice. a few rough sparks from his dialogue punctures through the soundbox of the device. again, he did sound oddly familiar. you just couldn’t put your foot on it.

the man chuckles before responding in a more sly tone—changing the subject again.

“you know doll, you sound kind of out of breath. call me crazy, but before i called you, were you playing with yourself?”

your legs suddenly squeeze shut, you were wearing one of your borrowed hoodies and shorts underneath. any sane person would have hung up eons ago, but for whatever reason—you felt your heartbeat start to race. the more you listened to the deep voice on the other end, the more you started to grow more curious. what’s wrong with playing around for a little bit? besides, what’s the worst thing that could happen—you dying?

you scoff, thinking this was nothing more than a dumb prank call—you decided that playing along wouldn’t hurt. you had nothing else to do anyway.

“so what if i was playing with myself?”

“i bet you didn’t even make yourself finish, doll.”

his voice, the more it spoke in that rough pitched tone—you couldn’t help but press the landline up to your ear just a bit further. you furrow your curled up brows, lowering your guard a bit. probably foolish, maybe you’d regret this later, but alas, reality wasn’t on your mind at the moment.

“are you saying you can make me finish?” you mutter, growing amused now.

“oh i know i can. i can make you get off from just from my voice alone.”

he was toying with you, but it was too late to back down. you intake a honed breath before humming.

“okay, prove it then.”

he chuckles.

“mhm. take those panties off first. actually no, slide them to the side for me.”

you really felt like you were in a movie, shamelessly at this random guy’s beck and call. as the show played in the background, you press the middle part of your thumb against the volume button to turn it down four notches. the room was practically silent now, the only noises heard were from the blaring beat drops of edm music downstairs. sprawling your legs out, you creep a shaking hand between your thighs.

the voice grows quiet, you finally move your panties toward the side before slouching back against the pillow.

“you must be really bored. talking to a random girl at the m-midnight.” you exhale.

“heh, m-maybe,” he mocks your falter. “but i’m sure you’ll keep me entertained with that cute voice of yours.”

he was so smooth. smooth as if he was prepared for every word that flew out of your mouth. as your fingers glide against your now exposed entrance, you let off a shaky breath.

he was right, out of boredom you tried to play with yourself— yet, that didn’t work out because you could never make yourself finish. your attempt was basically useless. with a frowning pout, you reply. “now what?”

“finger yourself, silly. and i wanna hear, put the phone up against that pussy for me, doll.”

he was filthy.

you felt yourself start to throb before removing the landline from against your ear and placing it right against your doused entrance.

with heavy jagged breaths becoming more irregular, the person on the other line hears the wet sloshes of your cunt up against the phone. again, he grows quiet—it’s almost like you can make out his deep attractive breaths and it makes you pulse even more.

“bet you’re so nice ‘n soaked. sounds so sloppy.”

gnawing on the softness of your bottom lip, your thumb briefly skims past the nub of your clit and you whine. you were already a bit sensitive from before, starting to stroke your fingers against it. bringing the phone back up to your ear, you ease a single finger inside. it feels warm—you were slick, coating your own finger with a nice amount of your obscene arousal. it doesn’t take long for you to start to pant, slithering another finger inside of your cunt before moaning. it fits nicely, nice and snug.

“you sound so pretty. i want you to imagine those are my fingers, pretty girl. can ya do that?”

“y-yeah,” you start to stammer, feeling a sudden spongey texture inside of you—you gasp, not expecting to reach your sweetened g-spot so soon. it was a mere bumpy texture, gloopy gummy walls involuntarily accepting your two slender fingers with an open gesture. “fuck, ‘m still a bit sensitive.”

he guffaws lowly.

“yeah, i bet you are. poor baby can’t even make herself cum.”

you swallow, the playfulness in his voice making your thighs start to tremble a bit. with relaxed fingers stretching throughout your walls, you focus on your breathing. each pant that came out of your hot breaths seemed like it was gonna be your last. after a while, your toes start to curl up in pure pleasure—you moan, feeling a sudden rush of weightlessness nirvana overtake you.

“find your g-spot for me. tell me when you do.”

“i- i already found it,” you whine, a sheaf of nerves that store inside of your pussy pulsating at a rapid speed. your head throws itself back as you’re just moaning melodically. “fuck, why don’t you just come over ‘n finish for me already.”

the voice laughs again.

“yeah? you want me to come over instead? maybe i should use my tongue since your fingers are so useless, dollface.”

at this point, you didn’t really care. maybe making simple rational decisions today just wasn’t in your favor. the eerie voice, each second you spent listening to it the more aroused you became. maybe getting off to a pure stranger’s voice was embarrassing but you were feening. the air felt suddenly thick. so thick you could cut it with a knife. with your bottom lip being chewed on like gum, you briskly shiver. cold, wintry air wafts against your skin and you moan for the nth time. an unforeseen chill runs down your spine before you hold back yet another whine.

“f-fuck, just come ‘n finish for me. i can’t do it. please.”

he grows quiet for a solid good four seconds before replying in a cheeky tone.

“okay. turn around.”

your panting stops and instantly, you turn your head the other way—of course, no one was there. figures, the only things your eyes were met with was the wooden headboard. with a disappointed grimace, pulling your occupied fingers out of your cunt, you turn back around. as you’re about to speak into the phone again, you open your mouth before pausing.

there, you’re met face first with what appears to be some guy in an infamous ghostface costume. he was tall, staggering inches on him before you don’t see one but two. they both had the same getup, ghoulish ghost mask, a long black robe, and the same spectral, tilting head-stance.

one of them takes off a mask and it’s suguru geto, your roommate.

your eyes concisely widen. once he yanks off the mask, his silky well-kept black strands fly loose. no wonder the voice sounded a tad bit familiar. the other removes his mask and it was nanami, two of them—now you really felt like you were in a movie. “you always did say how much you liked scream,” and then you glance at nanami who had a sheepish expression. “don’t be shy now, someone’s gotta help ya finish.”

“o-oh,” you remember, sitting up against the bed. now you were embarrassed. just a few seconds ago, you were getting off to your roommate’s voice. suddenly, you felt even more hot. you did end up talking their ear off about your adoration for the beloved franchise, ranting about your cute little ghostface obsession.

truth be told though, you didn’t know they’d make it a sheer reality for you. the two of them get on the bed towards you before nanami brings a gloved hand to your chin. he strokes your chin softly, and geto moves underneath.

“sorry princess,” he whispers. “suguru wanted to scare you but i told him we should just show ourselves,” and as he’s speaking, you get lost in his soft, honeydew eyes. such gentle compared to geto who was a bit more—crazed. “he didn’t scare you too bad, did he?”

you moan once you feel geto run a thumb against your already exposed cunt. with a firm head shake, you huff. “no, n-not really.”

“aw what. i thought i was pretty scary,” and you whimper out once he blows against your folds. for a concise moment, geto stares up at you—dark eyes keeping a strong gaze on you. “tell us what you want, pretty girl. you want us to help you finish?”

you nod, feeling geto spread your legs apart further.

nanami, with a gloved hand purses your lips together, forming them into a tight squeeze before humming. “words, princess. use them, okay?”

the more you feel geto’s breath fan against your clit, teasing you—you were about to go feral. you stare up at nanami before letting off a sweet whine. “i- i want you both to help me finish,” you stutter out, stumbling over your pathetic words like you’d stumble with an untied shoe. “make me cum, please kento.”

he leans in to kiss your forehead and you hear geto scoff underneath. “i’m the one between your legs but whatever,” and you feel his soft lips kiss against your pussy. “kento, keep her distracted for me, will ya?”

“you’re so pretty,” he mutters, lightly lifting up your chin. as he wore black gloves—the fabric gently brushes against your lip, popping a thumb into your mouth. he doesn’t expect for you to happily take it in his mouth, sucking on it. “oh,” he breathes, a bit speechless. you stare into nanami’s eyes, swirling your tongue around his thumb in such an erotic way. lowly hooded eyes stare at him the entire time, you moan once you feel the flatness of geto’s tongue run against your sweet clitoral hood. his tongue—the texture of it was so cold, the moment he digs in he makes you know the pure definition of sloppy. all with his tongue, he slowly flicks it against your nub before delving his tongue deeper between your soddened folds. nanami pulls your chin to face him again before softly purring, “don’t look at him, look at me pretty girl.”

as your eyes focus back towards nanami, you could already feel your legs quavering. you felt hot, the lewd way geto drags his tongue against your pussy makes you gasp out three strained second puffs of air.

“k-kento,” you moan, pawing your hands at the low part of his robe. he watches, lowering his head at you before you reach there. nanami’s bulge, he has an abashed expression as he realizes what you were fondling at. “take it off.”

“ah, ask nicely,” he coos. your lips were now glossed with your own spit he smears against you as he pulls his gloved thumb out of your mouth. even though nanami was more tame than geto, his voice had a bit more dominance in it. he grabs your chin gently, cocking his head toward the side. “tell me what you want ‘n i’ll give it to you.”

your legs felt like they were standing on its last few hinges—geto’s tongue runs down your slit, taking a moment to depart his lips and spit on it, only to then lap it up again. a few annoyed grunts escape out of him partially due to his long strands of hair getting in the way. “so sweet,” he mutters, you whimper once he prods two fingers against your outer entrance. every few seconds he’d kiss near your thighs, leaving a few bite bite marks before focusing back towards your folds. “mhm.”

barely even able to keep focus, you gaze back up at nanami who’s standing near the edge of the bed—you’re laid back against the pillows with geto between your thighs. finally, a sweet mewl of words leave your glazed lips. “i- i wanna taste, ‘ken. wanna suck you off,” and he gives you a playful eyebrow raise, prying his pink lips open a few inches apart before you correct yourself. “pretty please.”

“better,” he murmurs, a hand of his reaching towards your head to give it a good pat. “good girl. go ahead, lift it up ‘n enjoy the meal.”

with a soft slackened sigh, you lift up the obsidian black robe. you’re met with ripped jeans, for some reason you just figured he’d already be sprung out for you. as geto’s still lapping up every drop of your taste, you unzip his fly before yanking down his pants. you were so impatient— and with geto’s demented pace, you were getting close. he chuckles, watching you struggle with the zipper for a bit before finally reaching near his boxers. they were a cerulean blueish color, his bulge was just appetizing. the entire shape of it, you felt yourself starting to drool the longer your eyes made direct contact against it. so rounded and full. with clammy hands, you tug them down before his thick cock springs out.

“it’s okay,” he whispers with a nod, watching you glance up him—a silent gesture as a way of asking if you could go further. nanami brings a hand towards the crown of your head, gingerly massaging his fingers through the crevices of your scalp. “you can be a little messy for me.”

a wretched whine that was raw rips from your throat once you feel geto’s tongue latch against your cunt. by now, he was sucking against your folds. the squelches were so sloppy, a hand of yours grab onto his hair for leverage and he shoots you a sly smile.

“don’t be shy girl, yank on it.”

dark pooled irises linger into yours for a long time before you get a good grip of geto’s hair, dragging him closer towards your entrance. over and over and over.

he giggles, hot breath ghosting against your folds and you throb even more. with dilated irises staring back towards nanami, you wrap your free hand around his length—he was so thick, such full balls that you just wanted to run your tongue all across it. he had a few veins skim down his beige, weighty cock. you could make out a few drops of lustrous pre-cum that decorates near his very tip. “u-ugh,” he shakes, the warmth that your tongue provides has him smothering his lips together. nanami watches, you’re slow but deadly.

pursing your lips together, you gradually start to sink him into your mouth.

geto’s still between your thighs, shoving two fingers in and out of you now—he surrounds your clit with his mouth, the suction he creates with just his lips was brutal. you’re moaning, even whilst your noises were pretty much muffled due to nanami’s fat cock. “easy,” he whispers, tapping a thumb against your cheek. “no teeth, okay? you’re doing s-so good.”

nanami groans, goading the same thumb against your cheek before you inch yourself further and further down. he has a shy smile at the way your hair forms in musses due to his tight grip. within no time, your throat’s already stuffed and few droplets of your own saliva trickles down the sides of your mouth. geto’s still making sure to thrust his gloved digits in and out of your soaked cunt and you don’t know which roommate to focus on.

“m-mphm,” was all you could manage out, your legs in a swift spread-eagle position. as you’re outstretched, you feel yourself about to cum. you’d recognize that feeling anywhere—the feeling when a swelling pool of heat residing inside your stomach tickles throughout your entire abdomen. that same feeling of nirvana courses through your veins as you’re now leisurely bobbing your head. every time you pull on geto’s long hair, he grunts—spanking your clit in response and that only causes you to whine for more. nanami strokes your face as he starts to feel his dick prod against the roof of your mouth. for a split second as you’re breathing through each nostril—you gag, long lashes fluttering in sync together.

your legs couldn’t hold still, geto’s continuously pushing you towards your limit before you whimper out. your tongue lathers over the splotches of pre-cum that paints nanami’s tip a pretty shade of snowy white.

he just couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, especially not with a face like that.

low eyes, sheepish smile, furrowed eyebrows. you’re convulsing profusely all in geto’s mouth, the sides of your thighs occasionally hitting against his face and he titters. “such a sloppy m-mouth,” nanami inhales deeply, and he starts to gently drag your head against his cock. he’s got your mouth filled with so many inches—your cheeks were all puffed up from his immense length, sheeny slobber emanating all down the sides of your mouth before he pants. “gonna make such a mess ‘n your mouth, princess. ‘s that what you want?”

you nod, feeling the vein that runs down his girthy cock twitch in your mouth. you moan, he’s feeling weightless—you’ve got his knees trembling, a hand’s still attached to your head like velcro before gyrating your tongue all over the crownhead of his shaft. “such a pretty face,” he gruffs lowly, swiftly pulling your hair side to side to take every inch. “s-shame i gotta ruin it a little.”

even nanami’s dirty talk was tame— it was cute to witness, the way his blond brows would tug into a furrow. he’s so pent up, and out of nowhere—you feel a sudden rush erupt within your cunt. before you could even react, you end up cumming hard. it shoots out of you like a rough wave, it’s such pure bliss that it takes you a few seconds to realize. geto’s making out with your pussy, slowly sliding his two protected fingers in and out of your sopping wet entrance and you shudder. “what a fuckin’ mess,” he hums, taking sight at how saturated you were. as geto laps his tongue against your folds once more, he stares back up at you and nanami. “aw. look at you two,” and he leans down to kiss your forehead. “slobbin’ everywhere, messy girl you are.”

your eyes go back up towards nanami, he’s sweating.

he felt as if the fabric of his robe stuck against his skin. while he’s holding it up with one hand, you sneak a stare at his abs, perfect washboard abs that looked quintessentially sculpted against his body. “g-gonna cum,” and he stares at geto, growing a bit flustered once all attention’s on him. “suguru, don’t just stand there. p…praise her.”

geto scoffs, kneeling beside you on the bed before moving a few strands from your face. “so bossy,” he grits before giving you your second head pat. he leans up close to your ear, grabbing the voice changer again and brings it up to his lips. “c’mon, doll. make ‘ken cum, yeah. doin’ so good for us. you’re gonna make him whine for you, heh.”

nanami’s legs felt like mush, he throws his head back, his long black robe syncing with his movements before he’s gently pulling your head against his thick cock. he shudders, welts of twinges close in on the undersides of his thighs before he finally finishes. it builds up gradually before you find him pouring into your mouth with a nice amount of parching hot cum. it’s hot, a good mass of satiny ropes coat the flat middle part of your tongue and you moan. “f-fuuuck,” he heaves through heavy lungs, it’s still trickling, you savor the taste. it’s bitterly sweet. he pulls out of your mouth before letting off a tremulous sigh. “good girl, f-fuck.”

“aw. don’t hog her, give me attention too,” geto sneers, softly grabbing you by the neck, making you face him. with his right hand, he squeezes your lips together with a rigid grip. “ah, don’t swallow yet. c’mere.”

with half-lidded eyes, you do—leaning into his touch before geto plants his warm lips onto yours. you’re caught by surprise for the umpteenth time today, prying your mouth open for him and he lolls his tongue down your throat. you let off a whine, feeling his gloved hands rub against every inch of your body. immediately, he tastes the candied flavor of nanami’s cum and it makes him groan. he didn’t even bat an eye—you return the kiss, feeling geto’s hand slither further down towards your ass. he caresses it, giving it a mean spank to make you moan out in ecstasy.

after a while, he pulls away, humming at nanami. “ken ken, don’t be so shy. you want a taste too?”

“yeah,” he mutters, needy eyes staring at your lips that were lubricated with your own sheeny spit. “can i?”

you nod, and he’s so gentle with you. a hand nimbly wraps around your throat before he brings you into a deeper kiss. geto’s still for his hands on you, strumming his fingers near your pulled to the side panties. you let off a soft pant, feeling the spiral of nanami’s tongue go against yours. he tastes sweet — savory even, his flavor was purely mouthwatering. a thumb drags down the passageway of your throat before he pulls away. it’s slow, a polished concoction of saliva departs from each mouth and you whimper. you were throbbing, desperate for more and they both knew that. if this— whatever this was was some sort of movie, you never wanted it to end. you never wanted the credits to roll because you felt like you were floating on cloud nine.

with the two of them, you were stretched in every way possible. if you could compare who was bigger, actually you couldn’t. throughout multiple positions, you felt as if you were gonna snap in half. they had you so stupid. pink tongue rolled out, full lungs of oxygen departing out such hot breaths of air, you were the definition of stupid.

cockdrunk at its finest. each orgasm that got ruthlessly snatched out of you had your head spinning, heart racing entirely.

you felt like something was creeping up behind your shoulder, chills. whenever you’d coax out yet another teeth-shattering orgasm, all you felt was stone cold chills. time after time, it felt like pure bliss—you thought you were in a whole new world, barely even able to move your thighs an inch. being sandwiched between the two of them, perhaps you were a little greedy but you just couldn’t get enough. geto’s degrading you whilst nanami’s whispering sweet pleasures into your ear, you’ve never felt more soaked.

you didn’t wanna stop—

currently, you’re straddling nanami. he’s got two rough hands gripping your waist, intaking every inch of your pretty physique. his stare sends you butterflies, his shaft was underneath you and only then pulls out. with a cute, “phew,” he swipes a sheet of sweat that expands across his forehead. you rode him so good that he couldn’t even figure out what to say. he was so flustered, tips of his ears a reddish hot before he watches geto creep behind you. “think she wants more, suguru.”

“bet she does,” he whispers, bringing a few sweet kisses near the inner corners of your neck.

you’re promptly sat up straight. the brief sounds of booming speakers roar from downstairs as you wrap your arms around nanami. geto licks near your collarbone before purring seductively. “say, doll. how ‘bout you try to take us both? would ya like that?” and with a gloved hand he gives your ass a squeeze. “wanna be the final girl ‘n prove your worth? our final girl?”

without an inkling of hesitation—you nod, mewling out a sweet, “yes, yes jus’ hurry up, sugu. ‘m still c…close.”

“so wet, so impatient,” he whispers once more, and with two hands he makes you sit up from nanami. you gulp—swallowing whatever sanity you had left, preparing to be quite literally double stuffed with your roommates. you aren’t so sure why, but the fact that they both still had on their ghoulish costumes made you pulsate a bit more. geto’s helping you slide back down onto nanami’s length before slowly making his way into you also. “god, you’re so hot in here. gonna fuckin’ swallow me whole.”

you moan, everything goes so slow—your cunt was a ticking time bomb. you clamp down on each before slumping into nanami’s chest. you’re met with kind eyes, he strokes your forehead before kissing the bridge of your nose, panting in a hushed voice. “eyes on me, princess. just relax.”

you wriggle a bit at the positioning—being on nanami’s lap, geto directly behind you, you’re quite literally being filled in every orifice by thick inches of cock. nanami’s words were soothing, filling up your tummy with a pool of fluttering butterflies. you keep your eyes on him, clenching down on geto a bit before you hear him hiss in response. “ugh. doll open up for me a little m-more, yeah.”

his voice was deepened heavily—you let off a cute gasp once they’re both finally in and a few shaky breaths exit past your lips. “hold my hand, i got you,” nanami coos, and that’s when geto starts to rock. he had more control between the two of you, the grip on your hips was firm and you let off a sweet babble. each individual entrance was stuffed, you swallow the invisible lump in your throat as you start to feel the sweltering friction of your thighs slap against nanami. “you’re so pretty like this,” and he kisses the temple of your cheek.

every kiss presented from nanami makes your heart race—being sandwiched between nanami and geto, you really did feel like the main character.

your lip tremors, grinding back and forth between each of them, you feel geto wrap his thick fingers around your neck.

whilst you’re still straddling nanami—you moan again and again, feeling a free hand of geto’s spank your ass. the stretch that you continuously felt had your mouth watering. you heard the harmonic pap pap pap’s until it rang throughout your ears. “fuck, ya like being stuffed don’t you, pretty girl? feel full enough?” geto rasps, pressing his body right up against you. you felt his hot temperature go against your skin. making you feel every amount of his heat. your brain’s swelling up with fog. giving him an inert nod, you hear him click his tongue. “didn’t say to nod your head, doll. i wanna hear that sweet voice.”

whenever geto lowers his voice a bit, you feel the abrupt tension arise between your legs. leaning against nanami, you whine out a, “hngh y-yesss, ‘m so full, sugu. want more, stuff me more.”

“let me stuff your mouth too then.”

and before you could come up with a reply, geto removes his glove—shoving your mouth with two fat digits. he grunts, watching as you’re so compliant with your throat being filled with his fingers. nanami stares at the entire scene in front of him, his dick idly twitching inside of you. your tongue runs down his fingers before your own spit starts to seep down the corners of your lips. it was messy—you were messy. your hips jitter and judder and you knew with having both holes stuffed you weren’t gonna last that much longer. it was probably the dozenth orgasm your pussy’s been introduced with and you could feel the creeping pleasure brew up inside your abdomen.

“suguru, ‘m gonna cum.” nanami groans, bringing his own hands to wrap around your waist. you lessen your tense from his touch before gagging a bit from the prodding of geto’s fingers way back into your throat. “she’s s-squeezing me so good.”

geto snickers, making eye contact with nanami. “are you? ‘ken, you’re more whinier than usual today.”

“shut up.” he grumbles, slapping a hand over his face in embarrassment — nanami wasn’t so known to be all flustered and abashed, but whenever he was, it was so cute.

you’ve still got a mouthful of geto’s fingers before he pulls them out only to shove them into his own mouth. he hums, sharp hips snapping into you repeatedly as his other free hand tightens its secured grasp around your hip. “mhm,” he groans, feeling himself reaching his peak also. “you taste like a final girl. so sweet like candy.”

with the piston of geto’s vigorous hips, you’re so loose that you feel the fleeting sensation of your cunt gaping.

its cavernous, you jerk forward against nanami before seconds later — geto groans, abruptly finishing two seconds early. even his moans were pretty, he tugs his fingers out of your mouth to wrap them around your neck. strands of black hair glue to his forehead and he puffs out a single breath. licking a stripe near your neck, he feels thick volumes of his cum ooze into your hole. it’s so sticky, you bring your hips to a slowing halt before nanami shoots inside you too.

“f-fuck, sugu,” nanami grunts, feeling his thighs stick underneath you. he was panting heavily, each breath that ran from his lips sounding more and more wearied. “damn, so m-much.”

everything spurts into you at once. they mirror each other inside of you perfectly. callused stubby fingertips of geto’s squeeze your neck softly, watching as you’re just being filled with bulky strings of cum, it floods your cunt until it drizzles further into your womb. you’re drooling, it feels so hot, sweltering hot. it sticks against your entrance before your arms wrap around nanami. “so f-full,” you whimper, and he returns the gesture by brushing his thumb against your waist. droopy eyes hang low before nanami pulls you into another deep kiss. you decided—this was far better than some dumb party. the cottony fabric of the ghostface robe pricks against your skin as you lean into his heinous touch.

you shift your weight against nanami’s lap, feeling geto pull out before he leans down between your legs. “spread your legs,” he mutters, and in the midst of your tongue roaming down nanami’s throat, you part your thighs—gasping once you feel geto’s own tongue lap against the freshly created mess. he makes little tiny licks, tasting the ropes of crisp cum that’s sloppily easing out of every entrance—you pulsate before he chortles, warm breath ventilating against your sobbing pussy. “so messy. don’t want any spillin’ out. gotta push it back in.”

you’re moaning, after a while you break away from nanami’s lips before he strokes your cheek lovingly, a cute drowsy look before he huffs, “did you hear me, pretty?” and he gently pokes your cheek. “you always do this..”

confusion hits you before your eyes suddenly open—you jolt up, both of your roommates beside you, gawking at you with a look of deadpan. you’re leaning against geto, the third movie of scream playing in the background—it was near the ending where the killer was being revealed. you sit up, staring down at your legs and you were fully clothed—there was no geto eating between your legs, no being stuffed with nanami, nothing.

“hellooo, earth to roomie,” geto waves his hand in your face, you stare at him before furrowing your brows. “you okay? you fell asleep on me again. what’s got ya so spooked? looks like ya seen a ghost.”

so it was a dream?

a mere glimpse of your lewd imagination—?

you have a sudden sheepish look, running your fingers near the nape of your neck. “huh. oh, i’m fine. i thought the movie would be over by now.”

nanami rubs your back. “we still have like twenty minutes left,” and then he looks at you with a concerned look. so gentle—so tender. “are you sure you’re okay? we can watch a rom-com if you want.”

“i’m okay,” you insist, slumping your head back against geto.

that was weird, out of all the dreams you’ve had throughout your life—none of them ever felt as surreal as that one. for some reason, you were still aroused though. you were a bit out of breath and felt chills run all over your body.

abruptly, your phone rings,

“sugu, can you pass me my phone?” you sigh, trying to relax. you were pretty bummed you weren’t at that party getting stuffed with your two roommates but instead—in your generic dorm watching a scary movie.

he hands you the phone, grabbing the remote to turn it down a few notches.

once you take it, succinctly, your eyes scan across the screen—it reads that it’s from an unknown number. not really thinking much, you decide to answer, swiping the green button to answer. “um, hello?”

“hello.”

“hi,” you rub your eyes. “can i help y-”

“what’s your favorite scary movie?”

rolling your eyes, you peer at your two roommates beside you, nudging them and peeling the phone away from your ear for a moment. “very funny, suguru.”

geto gives you a look of confusion and nanami mimics the same. he shrugs, averting his eyes back toward the movie. “very funny what.”

and suddenly you’re laid back, an unbelieving expression was expressed on your face as you were left with a weird feeling. if it wasn’t them then who—

that same chill eerily creeps up your spine before you put the phone back near your ear. it’s that same low voice you heard from before, each word it speaks pitches deeper before you grow quiet at its final haunting response,

“oh baby, i’m not suguru or nanami..”

[silhouettecrow]

365 Days of Writing Prompts: Day 364

Adjective: Splendid

Noun: Partner

Definitions for those who need/want them:

Splendid: magnificent, or very impressive; (informal) excellent, or very good

Partner: either of a pair of people engaged together in the same activity; a person or group that takes part with another or others in doing something; any of a number of individuals with interests and investments in a business or enterprise, among whom expenses, profits, and losses are shared; either member of a married couple or of an established unmarried couple; a person with whom one has sex, or a lover; (dated) (dialect) a friendly form of address by one man to another

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Cimson Blood

Chapter 41: Revenge

Summary: A surprise trip to America has things turning in a direction no one thought they would

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 6,390

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, a/b/o, alternate universe, dead dove: do not eat, graphic violence, torture, on screen death, stabbing, knives, choking, punching, blood, aftermath of death, emotions, angst, trauma, very small hint of comfort

A/N: Please, please heed the warnings. This chapter deals with some heavy topics and rehashes a lot of Chapter 34. I've put a trigger warning before everything starts and if you don't want to read it then skip from there to the next section. You'll be able to put two and two together from there.

Also if you haven't seen, I went back and changed a pretty major plot point from chapter 34 onward and it will need to be read to really understand this chapter

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“You’re in charge.” John says, passing over the keys to Dr. Keller. “Hold down the fort. Take some time for yourself.” 

“Invite over Ashley.” Kyle winks as he passes. 

“Cute.” Dr. Keller says, rolling her eyes. 

“Call if anything happens.” John continues, ignoring Kyle’s remark. “You know how to get a hold of us.” 

“I do.” Dr. Keller nods. “I’ll make sure the cottage is still standing when you get back.” She glances at the car. “Take care of her.” 

“We will. We’ll make sure she’s still in one piece when we get back.” 

“You better.” Dr. Keller says, giving him a look. “Safe travels.” 

Kyle closes the car door, cutting off the rest of the conversation. You’re squeezed in the back of the car between him and Johnny. It is a tight squeeze between the two of them and their broad shoulders. It’s not the most comfortable position, but the decision to leave one car behind has sealed your fate. 

Simon is in the front passenger seat, looking about as happy to be there as you feel. His arm is leaned against the door, his gaze set out the front windshield. His scent is thick in the air, musky and leathery. It’s a mixed cocktail of scents in the small enclosed space, but Simon’s is the loudest. 

John opens the driver’s side door, climbing into the car. It felt cramped before, but now it feels almost claustrophobic. 

“Just an hour drive and you can stretch your legs.” He says, and you know he’s talking to you. 

“Where are we going?” You ask as he drives down the long driveway. 

“America.” He says, giving you the same answer he gave you before. 

“Why?” You ask, knowing what the answer is going to be. 

“We have some things we need to take care of.” He answers simply. 

“What things?” You pry, already guessing where this conversation is going to go. 

“I already told you.” He replies. Simon glances at him, but says nothing. 

“You told me nothing.” You purse your lips. 

“It’s a surprise.” He says, almost like he’s rehearsed this before. 

“I hate surprises.” You say, leaning back in your seat, your scent souring a bit. “If you bothered to pay attention you’d know that.” The last bit is hardly more than a murmur, but you know he heard you in the enclosed space. 

It falls silent in the car, the five of you sitting there awkwardly after the exchange. It’s been a long time since you’ve been so bombarded by their scents all at once, and it’s been a long time since they’ve been so surrounded by your own scent. It reminds you of that time months ago after Simon returned from his solo assignment when you’d kissed in the car and nearly drove them all insane with an explosion of your scent. 

Only this time, your scent has gone sour with your displeasure and agitation at the lack of information from John.

This time Simon is the first to cave, cracking the car window to let in some air and disperse the heavy scents. 

It’s going to be a long hour. 

Traveling is your worst nightmare. 

Or, at least, traveling like this. 

It’s only the five of you on the plane, some private jet that Kate had procured. It’s a nice plane, but at the same time, being enclosed with your pack for nine hours isn’t exactly ideal. You thought the cottage was bad at times, but at least there you could go outside and escape from them. 

Now you’re really stuck with them. 

Thankfully they’ve mostly left you alone for the duration of the flight, letting you sit in your seat with a book in silence. John and Simon have been in a corner conversing for the better part of the flight, glancing at you every so often. Johnny has slept through most of it, reclined in a seat not far from them. You wondered for a moment if he was faking it to listen in, but when the snores started you knew he really was out. Kyle is in a position not unlike your own, huddled in a seat with a book, minding his own business. 

You really want to know what John and Simon are discussing, what has held their attention for so long. It’s gotten heated a few times, John’s brows pulling into a frown, his lips moving rapidly. Simon’s shoulders keep squaring and relaxing, giving you insight into the rise and fall of emotions during the conversation. You can imagine his face mirroring John’s, his brows pinching in worry or frustration or perhaps even anger. 

Whatever it is, it’s serious enough to last a good part of the flight.

You’re ushered into a car almost as soon as the wheels touch the tarmac and the plane has stopped. You’re stuck between Johnny and Kyle again, but at least the SUV is spacious enough to not have you crammed in like sardines. Your legs are stiff and sore after sitting for the better part of eight hours, but you’re not about to complain. Not with the way John’s hands are gripping the steering wheel. 

If you didn’t know better, you might have thought he was having second thoughts about whatever is happening. 

You still don’t know. 

They still haven’t told you. 

The airstrip the jet landed in looked to be a private one as well, isolated in a grassy area with rolling hills of green and a few sparse trees missing their leaves. You almost fear it might be Texas again, given the warmth of the air for a time so late in the year, but you want to believe they wouldn’t be that cruel to you. At least you hope that’s the case. 

The drive takes longer than the one in England, time seeming to stretch on endlessly as it did in the plane. You’re tired after the flight, but curiosity is keeping you awake and aware. You almost wish you had your book, but it’s stuffed in the back with the small bag you’d been allowed to bring. The others had small bags as well, and you can only imagine what is inside them. 

It makes your insides crawl with nerves. 

The exhaustion becomes too much as the naked trees and rolling hills continue to pass by outside the car. It’s quiet in the car, the tense silence not even enough to keep you awake as your head begins to droop onto Kyle’s shoulder. 

You’re jolted awake as the car comes to a stop. 

The muffled sound of car doors closing outside reaches your ears as you peel your eyes open. 

“Come on.” Kyle says softly, gently shifting you with his shoulder. “Time to get up.” 

You let out a quiet grunt, rubbing your eyes. The world outside is full of grey sky and naked tree limbs from the angle you’re at. John and Simon’s doors slam as they exit the car, the warmth on your other side disappearing as Johnny gets out as well. Gravel crunches outside as Kyle opens his door, easing you so you’re sitting upright. 

The SUV is parked facing another one, and the world behind it opens into more green fields. Kyle slides out of the car, hitting gravel before offering you a hand. You blink the sleep from your eyes, taking the offered hand. 

There’s three other SUVs parked in the gravel, people dressed in plain clothes moving around an old, rickety barn. John is standing halfway between the car and the barn, conversing with Kate. You blink in surprise. You haven’t seen her since she dropped you off with your pack almost a year ago now.

Whatever they’re discussing, it seems to be serious. 

Kyle puts a hand on your back, leading you towards them. 

“Hi honey,” Kate greets you with a small smile, the seriousness melting on her face in almost a performative manner. “How are you holding up?” 

“I don’t know.” You say, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Depends on why I’m here.” 

“You didn’t tell her?” Kate says in surprise, turning back towards John. 

“I knew what she’d say if I told her.” John says. 

You purse your lips again, disliking being talked about as if you’re not standing right there.

Kate looks like she wants to say something, but she doesn’t, instead she takes half a step back. “Better get this over with, then.” 

John turns towards you, wrapping a hand around your wrist. “Come on.” 

You almost dig your heels in and demand he tell you, but you don’t. You have a feeling you’re about to find out regardless as he leads you towards the barn. Simon and Johnny are waiting by the doors, Kyle following close behind you. Nerves are starting to flutter in your stomach, your insides twisting in fear. What the hell is on the other side of those doors and why does everyone seem so serious about it? 

Johnny’s face is hard set, Simon’s eyes blank as John pauses in front of the door for a moment. 

They’re not themselves. 

You’re looking at Task Force 141. 

Simon slides the barn door open, your stomach clenching painfully. It’s dark in the barn, but not dark enough you can’t see. Grey light seeps in through holes in the roof and sides, giving the barn an eerie look, like you’re about to step into a horror movie. 

John’s hand tightens around your wrist, tugging you forward into the musty air inside the barn. You want to dig your heels in now, fight him and scream not to drag you inside. Your hand is shaking, curling in on itself until your nails dig into your palm. 

“Hi darlin’. Didn’t know you’d be joining us too.” 

You feel like you’ve been punched in the gut, the breath leaving your lungs. 

“Phil.” You breathe, nearly choking around his name. 

He’s seated in the middle of the barn, restrained in a chair. He looks far too comfortable and casual sitting there, greeting you like he would an old friend. 

There’s a table beside him filled with all sorts of instruments. Knives, scalpels, an ice pick. 

Your stomach twists as you realize what’s about to happen. 

The other four approach Phil, leaving a gap so you can see him as you linger behind. You have half a mind to turn and run out the now closed door, but something keeps your feet frozen to the ground. 

“You’re wasting your time.” Phil says, addressing the four members of your pack now. “I don’t know where Shepherd is.” 

“That’s not why we’re here.” John says, his voice deeper and rougher than it had been just outside. “You tortured a member of our pack.”

“Our omega.” Johnny says through gritted teeth. 

“Oh I see, a little revenge then.” Phil says, a smirk lifting on his lips as he stares at you. “And you brought a little audience.” 

***Content Warning: Torture ***

You jump as Simon takes a step forward, rearing back before punching Phil across the face. His head snaps to the side from the force of it, a grunt leaving his lips. Simon grips his chin, yanking his head back to the other side so Phil is looking up at him. 

“We’re going to do the same to you that you did to her.” He growls out. 

The words have a shiver tickling down your spine. 

Simon releases Phil before drawing his fist back to throw another punch. Nausea churns in your stomach as something cracks, the sound echoing in the silence. 

“Solid hit, big man.” Phil grins, spitting onto the floor before sitting up straight again. “You’re going to have to hit me harder than that.” His eyes flicker to you as you stand there in shock. “You can ask your omega how hard I hit her.” 

Johnny surges forward, wrapping his hand around Phil’s throat. “Give me a knife. I’ll cut his tongue out.” 

Phil lets out a choked sound, your own throat constricting a bit from the memory of Phil’s hand choking you. Tears fill your eyes as Phil’s face begins to go purple from the lack of oxygen. 

“Easy.” John says, easing Johnny off of Phil. “We’re not done yet.” 

Phil lets out a choking cough, his hands straining where they’re tied to the arms of the chair. “Not bad.” He coughs out, his face still red. “Gonna have to try harder than that.” 

John punches him in the face, sending his head snapping the other direction. Blood trickles from his lip, his tongue darting out to lick the wound. 

“Of course the alpha would spill the first drop of blood.” Phil says, letting out a chuckle, his gaze returning to you. “This is going to take a while, sweetheart. Why don’t you go back outside and wait for your boys to be done, hm?” 

“No.” John says, his hand closing into a fist again. “She’s going to watch every last bit of this.” 

Your stomach churns as he throws another punch at Phil, this one landing with another sickening crack. You don’t really want to watch this, but at the same time, there’s a sick sense of satisfaction filling you as your pack takes revenge on your behalf. Your omega is nearly purring, watching in glee as they drive punch after punch into Phil’s face. 

“You’re going to have to try harder than that.” Phil chokes out around Simon’s hand where it’s wrapped around his throat. 

“We’re just getting started.” Kyle says, grabbing a knife from the table. 

Phil lets out a pained yell as Kyle stabs the knife into his bicep, slowly dragging it down his arm. It’s deeper than Phil had cut you, blood pouring out of the open wound. Your stomach twists, nausea bubbling up into your throat. How easy this all seems for them. 

How easily Phil had tortured you. 

Your fingers trace the thin, pink line down your own arm, your skin burning with a reminder of what happened to you. 

The realization of what’s happening settles in as Kyle drives the knife into Phil’s chest, dragging it downward in another deep cut. You do want to turn around and go outside. You don’t want to watch this anymore. 

The soft call of your name has you coming back to yourself. Your pack has turned to face you now. You hadn’t even realized that you had turned your head away. Tears have trailed down your cheeks, your breath hitching. 

It’s John that’s called your name, his hand outstretched. He’s holding the ice pick. Your shoulder throbs at the sight of it. The memory of one almost exactly like it being stabbed into your scent gland has a whimper leaving your lips. You know what he’s asking, what he’s offering. Phil inflicted the worst pain you’ve ever felt onto you. Now you’re being offered the chance to do the same to him. 

Your omega is screaming, yelling at you to take it, to return what he did back to him. It’s his fault this happened. Weeks of pain and agony that you will always remember. He did that to you. 

You’re moving before you even realize it, your fingers wrapping around the cold metal. Your omega is taking over again, driving that instinctual violence forward again. Simon is standing behind Phil, holding his head to the side. He looks like shit, his face already bruising and covered in blood. The metallic scent of it is strong, your mind flickering back to those soldiers, his soldiers, the ones you killed with that knife. You wonder what happened to it, if it’s still laying out in the forest, the last lingering remnant of the violence that happened there. 

You stare down at Phil, at his exposed neck. He’s jerking against Simon’s hold, as if he knows and understands what’s about to happen, as if he can already sense the pain that’s about to be brought on him. Does he? Does he really understand? 

He’s about to. 

Your hand moves before you can stop it, driving the ice pick as hard as you can into his scent gland. He lets out a yowl of pain as the metal slides under his skin and into that sensitive spot. You remember it, the lightning-like pain rushing through your body, every nerve-ending on fire, every movement agony for days and days and days. 

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” You say, pushing the ice pick as far as you possibly can into his body. “It’s the worst pain I’ve ever felt. Worse than all those years I sat in that institute thinking about my family, the family you helped tear me away from.” You take a step back, leaving the ice pick in his shoulder. “You’ll never forget it, that kind of pain.” 

Simon wraps his hand around the ice pick, pulling it free. Blood seeps out of the hole, pouring down Phil’s chest. He jerks in his restraints, his eyes squeezed shut. 

“You deserve to feel that kind of pain.” You say, taking another step back. 

“Look at you.” Phil laughs, tilting his head up with a wince. His eyes are on you, focused solely on you as you stand there. “Tough little thing. Turning more and more like your father, aren’t you?” His words bite at the back of your brain, your omega screaming at the insult. His eyes leave you, instead roaming over the three members of your pack standing in front of him. “No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t hide her away from this world, could you?” 

He’s not talking to you anymore. 

“You’d always leave a stain on her. Eventually it would come around. She’d get caught up in a life like this, a life of violence and bloodshed. Proud of yourselves?” He lets out a chuckle. “You ruined such sweet innocence.” 

“Shut yer fuckin’ mouth.” Johnny growls as Simon moves back around so he’s standing next to you. 

“Ooh, hit a nerve did I?” Phil laughs, turning his gaze to you. “You know your dad never checked you made it to the institute? As soon as you were out of his sight he could finally stop caring about you.” Phil licks his lips. “I should have just taken you right then. No one would have known the difference. None of this would have happened. You’d still be just a sweet little innocent girl, just like you always should have been.” 

Anger and rage burns through you at his words. Years of repressed fears and emotions surging out all at once. Later you’ll wish you could blame it on your omega, that she took over in this moment, but that’s not the case. It’s you in your true form, in your own rage at Phil for his words, for his actions, for the ways he’s ruined your life even still years later. 

Time slows as your fingers wrap around the knife strapped to Simon’s side. It slides out of its sheath easily, your body moving forward as you grip it tightly in your hand. It won’t be the first time, your brain flashing back to all of those men, men who would have done worse things to you had your omega not acted on instinct. She’s screaming at you now, still, clawing at the poorly constructed cage you’ve forced her back in, calling for violence. 

You’ll give it to her. 

The knife cuts through his skin easily, sliding downward as you stab it into his neck. Blood spurts out, coating your hands in the slippery liquid. Adrenaline courses through your body, your vision going red as you yank the knife from his throat, blood spraying out of his artery from where you’ve severed it. It’s like some gruesome renaissance painting as you’re pulled back, an arm around your waist tugging you backward away from the quickly fading body in the chair, your mouth still open in an enraged scream. 

The knife drops from your hand as you’re tugged backwards, your body falling against a solid one. Your legs feel like jelly as the adrenaline pumps through your system, your blood covered hands shaking as you stare at the lifeless body of a man you once thought of as a family friend. A man who played such an integral part in your life behind the scenes. A man who was almost your alpha, a man who would have been your alpha had it not been for the woman standing outside. 

The man who tortured you and brought you more pain than you’ve ever felt in your entire life. 

He’s dead now. He can’t ever hurt you again. 

Nausea churns in your stomach as you sit there, staring down at your blood-soaked hands. It’s deep red and sticking to your skin, no matter how much Kyle tries to wipe at it with a t-shirt. Your body has gone numb as reality has settled in. 

You just killed a man. 

“Easy.” Kyle says, his hand warm against your chilled skin as he wraps his fingers around your arm. 

You’d jerked away from him, nearly slipping off the edge of the trunk. The trunk of the SUV is open and you’re seated on the edge of it, toes pushing into the gravel below to hold yourself up. Kyle had been trying to wipe the dried blood off of your hands, but no matter how hard he scrubbed, some of it wouldn’t come off. 

“Here.” Footsteps approach in the gravel, the rocks crunching under boots. “Go help Simon.” 

Rougher hands replace Kyle’s, wrapping around your wrists. You jump when the cold water hits your hands, shocking you out of your dazed state. You lift your gaze up to John’s face as he wipes the blood from your hands, the shirt quickly becoming stained with red streaks. 

“This wasn’t our intention. I just want you to know that.” He says, his gaze focused on your hands. “We didn’t bring you here to kill him. I just thought you might want to know what was going to happen to him. Closure. Maybe you could rest easier knowing he wasn’t ever going to see freedom again.” 

“He won’t see anything ever again.” You murmur. 

“It doesn’t make you a bad person. Heat of the moment. He was saying some vile things to you.” John tries to comfort you. 

“But that doesn’t mean I had to kill him.” 

“Maybe not. He wouldn’t have lived much longer regardless.” Your hands are starting to feel raw with how hard John is scrubbing them. It’s almost like he’s trying to wipe the fact you’re a murderer from your hands. “None of us will think any less of you for what you did.” 

You stare down at your hands as John finally relents his scrubbing. The blood is gone, but you’ll always remember the look of it staining your skin. “I’m sorry.” 

John squats down in front of you, his hands closing around yours. They’re so warm compared to your own chilled skin. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” 

“But I do. Phil was right. I’m not innocent anymore. I’m not a good omega. I lost that when I let her take over.” Tears slip down your cheeks, warm against your skin. 

“That doesn’t make you a bad omega.” John says, reaching up to wipe the tears from your cheeks. “You’ve done what you had to do to survive because of our failures. We failed to protect you like we promised and we forced you into situations you shouldn’t have ever been in. We will never be able to apologize enough for what we did.” 

“I’m scared, John.” You whisper. “I don’t want to be like this anymore.” 

His brows furrow. “Be like what?” 

“I still feel like she’s in control.” You say, more tears sliding down your cheeks. “I don’t think I’ve come back to myself at all.” 

Tears still sting your eyes as you sit in the back of the car, watching the flames through the rearview mirror. 

“Unfortunate that the old barn burned down.” Kate says, her voice slightly muffled through the closed car door. 

“Feel sorry for the poor soul stuck inside.” John says. 

“Too bad they’ll never be identified.” 

Their words nearly make you sick again. How easily they talk about it, how easily they can detach themselves. It is their job, you suppose. This is just a normal occurrence to them. It scares you, how easily they confront death and dismiss it. It’s cold and unwelcoming, just like their attitudes had been upon your arrival. You should have known just by that. You should have turned and left when you wanted to. 

Maybe then you’d have less blood on your hands. 

Phil did deserve it, after everything. At least this way you know he won’t try to find you again, won’t try and get revenge of his own against your pack. One less loose string to worry about, John had said. 

There’s just one more that needs to be tied off. 

“Any sign of Shepherd?” John asks. 

“None yet.” Kate answers. “Alex and Farah are investigating a couple of leads. You’ll be the first to know if they find anything.” 

“Good. The sooner we can find him, the better.” 

“He can’t hide forever.” Kate says. “We’ll find him eventually.” She glances towards the car. “You’ll be alright?” 

John is quiet for a moment. “Eventually.” 

“You need anything...” 

“We’ll be sure to let you know.” 

Cold air rushes in with the smell of smoke as Kyle opens the car door. He slides in, quickly closing it. 

“We’re almost ready to go.” He says, shifting so he can put your seatbelt on for you. You’re glad he’s doing it. You’re not sure you could have managed it anyway. “Another long flight back to England.” 

You feel like you’ve spent more time on a plane in the last few hours than you have in your lifetime. You’re not even sure what day it is, or what day it will be when you get back. A week could have passed and you’d never even notice. 

“We’ll stop and get food before we go.” Kyle continues. You know he’s trying to talk to keep you distracted. “Anything you want in particular?” 

Food is the last thing you want right now. 

“Something we can eat on the road I suppose. Don’t want to linger too long anywhere.” Kyle trails off as the doors open, Johnny and Simon climbing in. It’s a tighter squeeze this time thanks to John’s coat that he put on you to keep you warm. You don’t really need it in the car, but his scent is the only thing keeping you sane right now. 

“Ye doin’ alright?” Johnny asks as he puts on his own seatbelt. 

You hum in response, not trusting yourself to answer. You don’t trust yourself to say much of anything right now. 

The smell of smoke hits your nose again as John opens the driver’s side door, climbing into the car. “Let’s get out of here.” He says, putting on his seatbelt before the car rumbles to life. 

You lean back in the seat, staring at the smoldering ashes in the rearview mirror until they disappear around a bend as John drives away from the scene. Warm fingers brush the back of your hand, Kyle’s gaze down on your lap as he slowly curls his fingers around your hand. You stare at his hand for a moment before you look away, curling your fingers around his. 

You don’t remember much of the flight back. You slept through a good part of it, reclined in a seat just like Johnny had been on the flight to America. You barely remember the drive back to the cottage, spending most of it in a sleepy daze with your head propped on Kyle’s shoulder. 

Dr. Keller is there to greet you when you return, some delicious smell wafting from the open door of the cottage. It makes your stomach churn after hours of no food. You haven’t had much of an appetite, the memories of what had happened too fresh to allow you much else but the blissful ignorance of sleep. 

You drag your feet up the steps of the cottage, passing Dr. Keller in a haze as you head straight for the comfortable familiarity of your bed. You can hear quiet voices through the wall as you manage to work your heavy limbs out of your clothes and into something more comfortable. 

You just want to sleep more, sleep forever if it were possible. In sleep you don’t see the blood staining your hands, the spurt of blood from Phil’s neck where you’d stabbed him. You don’t see the light fading from his eyes, his body falling limp as he dies by your hand. In sleep you’re not a murderer, you can go back to when things were easier, when nothing mattered but being a good omega for your pack. Back when your only stress was making a good impression and doing your job like you’re supposed to. 

What a shitty omega you’ve become. You can’t even hold your pack together anymore. 

It’s not like they’re putting in much effort themselves, though. 

Maybe you should let things fall apart. Maybe it would be easier on everyone if you just moved past this, moved on to an unhappy, short life in a care facility while your pack got to live out the rest of their days with nothing but a painful memory of the short stint they got as a full pack. 

Phil was right. You’re not a sweet innocent little girl anymore. That person died as soon as you were forced into this pack. Maybe this was inevitable. By being forced with them you would always become like them. Good omegas learn to adapt to mesh well with their pack, giving up personality and wants in favor of making alphas happy. Maybe this is what they want, maybe this was the way things were always going to end up. You were doomed from the start to become just like them. 

You press your face into your pillow as tears slide down your cheeks, willing yourself to fall into the sweet embrace of sleep once again. 

“John told me what happened.” Dr. Keller says as you sit outside in the cold morning air. “I just want you to know that it doesn’t make me think any less of you.” 

You wish she would. You wish she’d yell and reprimand you for killing someone. You wish any of them would call you a bad person, a wicked soul capable of taking the life of someone else. 

They’re all acting like it’s normal, like it was nothing. 

You hate it. 

“You’re not a bad person.” She says. 

“I killed someone.” You retort. 

“Did you?” 

Her words make you pause. You did. You remember the blood staining your hands, the warm spray of it from Phil’s neck. It was your hand that drove the knife. 

“I want you to walk me through what happened. Step by step.” She says. 

You let out a sigh. It’s not the first time you’ve been over it in the last day. “They were torturing him, but he wouldn’t stop talking. He said that he wished he had just taken me instead of sending me to the institute, and how that way I’d still be an innocent little girl.” Your voice starts to shake. “I got really mad. I barely remember grabbing the knife.” 

“Right there.” Dr. Keller interrupts you. “Walk me through that second by second. What were you feeling beyond just anger?” 

You pause for a moment, thinking it over. What were you feeling? “Blinding rage.” You say. “I was so angry because he helped ruin my life just because he wanted me.” You swallow the lump in your throat. “Just the idea of being his...” Nausea churns in your stomach. “It’s like my brain went numb. It acted on instinct. I didn’t even know Simon had a knife until I was grabbing it.” 

“What was your omega feeling in those moments?” 

You pause to think again. You hadn’t taken into consideration your omega during your ruminations, when you’d told Dr. Keller your side of the events the last few times. “She was...angry too. But, at first, she liked it. She liked Phil being tortured. She wanted me to stab him with the ice pick.” You swallow thickly. “Why did I do that? Why didn’t I say no?” 

“Revenge is a fascinating part of human thought processes.” Dr. Keller says. “In the moment, it fires up those reward centers of the brain. It feels good, feels satisfying. The desire to act on those impulsive needs to dole out justice against someone that wronged you is natural. While it’s not the best idea, it’s just human nature to want to get revenge. In the heat of the moment, logic is the last thing on your mind. Throw in an uncontrolled omega and you may find yourself doing things you don’t want to do, and you don’t know why.” 

“So it was her fault.” You say, wiping your nose. 

“Not exactly. Instincts are complicated things to consider. Instincts don’t care about your feelings or what society considers acceptable. They’re natural, ingrained behaviors in response to certain stimuli and events. A bear chases you, you run. An alpha threatens you, your omega fights back. While yes, what you did may be morally questionable, in the moment, your omega didn’t care about morals or societal expectations. You felt threatened and uncomfortable and your omega acted on your behalf.” 

“It’s because she’s out of control.” You say. 

“Yes. You let her out of that specially crafted cage you learned to keep her in, and now she’s going to fight tooth and nail to stay out. You’re in a very delicate state and it’s not surprising your omega decided to act for you.” 

“She’s so violent.” You say quietly. 

“Omegas and alphas only show themselves for a handful of reasons. Usually those involve danger or extreme emotions. Omegas especially show themselves when violence is needed. We are all fighters at our core, even omegas. You yourself may not be a violent person, but your omega is unsettled. She’s on high alert and any perceived threat could set her off, or any moments of high emotions, such as witnessing what you did.” 

You look down at your hands, imagining them covered with blood again. “I wanted to leave. I should have.” 

“We can’t change what we’ve done in the past. Your omega was likely largely responsible for what happened in those moments. While that doesn’t absolve you of guilt entirely, that also means you weren’t fully in control of yourself when it happened.” She reaches out, putting a hand on yours. “I believe you when you say you didn’t want to do it. I don’t think you’re capable of it in your right mind. You’ve been through a lot over the last few weeks. I thought it was a bad idea to take you, but you know John.” 

“He thinks he knows what's best because it’s what he thinks is best.” You murmur. 

“You can confront him about that.” Dr. Keller says, leaning back in her chair. 

You snort. “That will go well.” 

“It might. Your pack has expressed their willingness to change, to adapt to what you want. You have the power to change your pack. If you don’t like the way they’re doing something, then tell them.” She gives you a pointed look. “They won’t know what to change if you don’t tell them what you want to change.” 

“I’m scared to ask them.” You admit. 

“Why? Why are you scared to ask them?” 

“Good omegas adapt to their pack, they don’t ask. They don’t ask their pack to change just for them.” 

She gives you another look. “Don’t go regressing that far on me.” She shifts in her seat, leaning closer to you. “We’ve talked about this before. You’re a part of this pack too, just as much as they are. You have a right to communicate your needs and your wants just as much as they do. You’re an equal in this pack, and they’ll be the first to agree with that. While their actions of late have been questionable, they do still care about you and want to make you a true equal in this pack.” 

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” You huff. 

“Then let them show you.” She says. “What’s the harm in asking?” 

“They say no.” You say. “I don’t think I could handle it if they said no.” 

“But what if they say yes?” Dr. Keller squeezes your arm. “You’ll never know until you ask. In my professional opinion, I think you hold more power now than you realize. A lot of things happened to you, but a lot of things happened to your pack as well, and within those bonds.”

“Yeah. They’re all fractured now.” You say. 

“They’re in rough shape, but they’re not unfixable. You have to want to fix them. You’re the only one that can fix them.” 

“I don’t like that power.” You say. “Part of me wants to end things.” 

“But, that means there’s a part of you that wants to repair them. As your doctor, I suggest listening to those thoughts more than the ones telling you not to. It won’t be easy, but I think it’s worth your time to try.” 

Tears fill your eyes as you sit there, thinking over her words. You do want to try. You want to try so badly, yet you can’t help that nagging in the back of your mind that everything will go back to the way it was before. 

“What do you need?” Dr. Keller asks softly, brushing some of the hair from your face as you cry. 

What is it you need? A new brain, a reset button, some amnesia? All things you can’t have. You’ll have to choose with what you do have. What do you have? A pack that desperately wants to help you. They’ve told you that themselves. Kyle told you things would get better, but here you are with more blood staining your hands. Kyle wouldn’t lie to you. Not like that. 

You have the power now. 

“Johnny.” You sniffle. “Get me Johnny.” 

NEXT ->

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[fastandcarlos]

One Domesticated Man : ̗̀➛ Lando Norris

summary: lando tries his best to prove to you that he can be a domesticated guy

“If I find one more of your dirty pairs of pants lying around I’m going to swing for you Lando Norris!” 

A mischievous grin appeared on Lando’s face as he heard you shout through the house, watching as you walked into the bedroom to where he was. 

He was busying himself, placing the washing that you had done for him back into his wardrobe, sorting through what he needed to pack with him as he prepared to head off again for the next rest on the calendar. 

“I just forget to pick them up sometimes,” he innocently smiled, “there’s so many other things on my mind, my pants are the least of my concerns.” 

Your eyes rolled as you threw the pants into the washing basket before watching him. His brows were knitted together as Lando tried his best to fold one of his shirts. You watched for a while before snatching the shirt out of his hands, showing him how it was done.  

“I’m learning,” Lando defended as you threw the top into the drawer of his wardrobe. “No one’s ever really shown me how to do all of this stuff, I’ve just had to learn how to do it all on my own.” 

“Lando, you barely do anything,” you sighed, sending him a knowing glance. “When was the last time that you hoovered? Or took the rubbish out for bin collection day?” 

There was a brief pause as Lando let what you said sink in, realising for himself how little he did around the house, watching as you usually darted around and got everything sorted out for the both of you. 

“Remember when I washed up the other day?” 

“What? In cold water, of course I remember.” 

Whilst Lando laughed, your eyes rolled, finding yourself often having to go back and fix things once he’d done them. Lando was far from the most domesticated man in the world, relying on others to get him by with how little time he actually spent at home. 

You folded the last of Lando’s bits before leaving him to it, walking downstairs and into the kitchen as you started to get yourself sorted for preparing dinner. 

Soon enough footsteps followed behind you as Lando joined you in the kitchen, sitting up on the worktop. You could tell straight away that he was bored, following you around like a shadow. 

“How can I help you?” Lando asked as he watched you open up the fridge. “You always sort dinner out, so I want to be able to help you out tonight.” 

Your eyes flickered around to look back at Lando, “is this because of what I said upstairs? It’s alright Lando, go and do something if you want, I really don’t mind.” 

“No, I want to help and do something around here.” 

Your head nodded, opening up the cutlery drawer and taking out a knife, placing it down on the chopping board, tapping it for Lando to move across to. 

“You can be trusted with this, can’t you?” You teased, pointing at the knife. “I’m not going to end up having to drive you to hospital, right?” 

“I’m not completely incompetent babe.” 

You took the vegetables and showed Lando how you wanted them cut, making sure that your instructions were clear, making it impossible for Lando to go wrong. He listened intently to what you had to say, determined to prove to you, and himself, that he could help. 

There were a few nerves as Lando got started, his eyes full of concentration as he chopped things up. He didn’t want to put a foot wrong, it was a simple job, but for some reason Lando felt the pressure. 

“Maybe once we’ve eaten tonight, we could look at building your new desk for your office,” Lando suggested as he stopped for a moment, noticing you freeze beside him. 

“Washing, cooking, building, are you sure that you’re going to cope?” 

Lando’s head nodded, an excited smile on his face, full of encouragement. “I promised you weeks ago I’d build it and I haven’t, it’s unfair to leave you waiting around for it any longer.” 

“Do we have the equipment to build it though?” 

Lando gasped, his head nodding back at you, with his toolbox hidden around somewhere. He wasn’t quite sure when he last used it, but he knew with a bit of a search around he’d locate it. It was an old one, one that his dad gave to him for times like this, one that Lando had very rarely used. 

He could still feel your eyes watching him, doubtful as to how things would go, knowing that construction anything more than Lego was a tricky job for Lando. 

“I can do it,” he assured you, his voice a lot more insistent. “And if I get stuck then I know where you are so you can come and help me.” 

There was a confidence in Lando’s voice that had you trusting him, having done most things yourself, you weren’t going to deprive him of his chance to be a little more domesticated. 

“If you want to help out, I’ve got a long list of things that need doing around the house,” you smiled, walking over and snaking your arms around his waist. “I could keep you entertained for weeks with all these jobs.” 

“You’re right though, I should be doing more to help you,” Lando whispered. 

“You’re busy Lando, when you come home it’s important that you rest,” you replied, resting your head against his back. “I’m not expecting anything from you.” 

You didn’t expect, but Lando did of himself. He’d never thought about how much he contributed around the house, but now that you passed a comment, even just a joke, it definitely had Land thinking. 

“You’re busy too, just because you’re not flying around the world to do it. We’re a team, therefore this house needs to be taken care of by two people,” Lando assured you. 

“If you want to do more, then I guess I wouldn’t mind.” 

Lando nodded as he finished up the job that you had given him, with your body still pressed up against his. He wanted to learn and do more, hoping one day to teach his own child how to do all of the jobs that his dad had taught him to do. 

I really do, more than anything.” 

You could see just how sincere Lando’s eyes were, how serious he was. The thought of you continuing to run around after him was one that made him feel so uneasy. 

“Why don’t we have dinner and then we can build the desk together?” You proposed, “that way you can help out, and we can have fun doing it together.” 

“I’d like that, a lot,” Lando whispered, “I want to be more domesticated, like those men you see in all the movies, the ones who can just figure everything out, can take on a job no matter how big or small.” 

“You want to be a hero?” You teased, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “What am I supposed to do though if you’re doing all of these jobs for me now.” 

“You can just sit and relax,” Lando instructed, “that’s the least that you deserve anyway, I don’t want you to do anything other than that.” 

“I can just sit and tell you when you miss a bit,” you laughed, “or when you’re not doing a good enough job.” 

“That’s the least that I’d deserve, right?” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[moonstruckme]

summary: when James moves into your apartment, you need a bit of an adjustment period

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1k words

You go downstairs the way a meerkat pokes its head out of its burrow. Cautious, watchful. When you spot James standing over a sizzling pan in the kitchen, it’s a bit of effort not to sigh, but you go anyway, hunger temporarily taking priority over solitude. It’s just going to have to be another quick meal.

“Hey.” James looks up from a recipe he’s reading on his phone, grinning at you. 

You press your lips together in a smile of response. The girl who’d occupied James’ room before him wouldn’t have bothered to acknowledge you, and frankly, you’d liked her for that. You’d had a mutually ambivalent relationship; you’d both paid your rent, ignored the other’s food in the fridge, and gone about your days as if you each had the apartment to yourself. She had to move out because the maintenance crew tattled on her for having a pet, and though James only moved in a week ago, he’s invited you to hang out with his friends every time they’ve come over. Which is often. (He’s at least considerate enough to always ask first, and you always say yes. Partially because they don’t make huge messes and partially because you don’t know how to reply to a yes/no question any other way.) 

You go to the fridge, tearing the aluminum foil off a half-empty can of beans and shaking it into a bowl. You put it in the microwave. James reaches to turn down the stove, and, like a frightened animal, you flinch away from him. He doesn’t seem to notice, only retreating to the opposite counter to give you more room. 

“How’s your day going?” he asks, leaning back on his forearms. 

“Not bad,” you say. Another thing about James is that in addition to his relentless geniality, he’s ferociously attractive. It takes all of your willpower not to let your eyes dip from his face to where his short sleeves conform to his biceps when he leans that way, but your face heats regardless. “Yours?” 

“Pretty good, actually.” He smiles easily. “It’s gorgeous out, have you felt the weather?” 

You shake your head. “I haven’t been out yet.” 

James nods like he knows this already, humming noncommittally. You think you spy a bit of judgment in his look, but you can’t be sure. “So,” he says, “I have something to ask you.” 

You tense. “Okay…” 

“I know you value your privacy, and I totally respect that, but I feel like as your roommate it’s my responsibility to at least ask.” 

You feel your eyes narrowing as you nod for him to continue. 

James schools his face into seriousness, a frown on his lips that looks like it doesn’t belong. “Do you not eat?” 

You laugh, relieved and bemused. “Of course I eat.”

The smile he gives you is strained, clearly for your benefit rather than his. “You sure about that? Because this morning I just saw you have one—one—piece of toast for breakfast, and then for lunch you had…what?” 

You shy, more because of his notice than anything else. The microwave beeps and you use it as an excuse to turn around. “Some cheese and crackers.” 

When you pivot with the steaming bowl, James is looking at you incredulously.

“They’re really filling!” 

“That’s a snack, love, not a meal. Both of those are snacks. Did you have anything else?” 

You hold up the bowl in your hand. “I’m about to have some beans.” 

His laugh is monosyllabic. Appalled. “You’re not serious.” 

You roll your eyes at him even as your face heats. “Listen, it’s not my most nutritious day, but I’ve been in a rush, and…” You were going to say more, but decide against it. “Anyway, there’s protein in the beans, so.” 

James isn’t having it. “And what?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Something.” He raises his eyebrows at you. “C’mon, spill, or I’m going to call your mum and tell her about your big day of—“ He draws quotes in the air, full lips curving he does “—beans and crackers.” 

“And toast,” you joke. James’ smile is small and short-lived. Does he really have your mum’s phone number? He can’t possibly. 

You sigh. “Okay, it’s nothing to do with you, but I…I’m a bit weird about being in the kitchen at the same time.” James’ thick eyebrows meet in the middle, and your shoulders hunch instinctively but you force yourself to finish explaining. “I just want to grab whatever is quickest and go before I make things awkward, or something. But I know it’s stupid.” You shake your head. You could burn the apartment to cinders with the heat from your face. “I don’t own the kitchen. You have every right to be here, and I’ll get used to it eventually. It’s just that you’re new to me right now.” 

James' expression clears. “Oh, you’re shy.” 

You must look even more embarrassed at that, because he hurries to say, “That’s alright, it’s good to know how you feel about things. And now I don’t have to call your mum.” He grins, and it widens when you make a tiny effort to reciprocate. “I don’t mind stepping out of the kitchen so you can cook every now and then.”

“You really don’t have to.” 

“It’s no trouble.” He waves you off. “Honestly, it’s too small for both of us to comfortably use at the same time anyway. Careful by the way, that pan’s hot.” 

You glance behind you, and you’ve backed yourself nearly into the stove. You move away, squeaking out a thanks. 

James’ smile softens. “I do hope you're right about getting used to me eventually, though.” He gives you a kind look, and you have no idea how he can maintain eye contact with that much sincerity in his big brown eyes. You envy the skill. “I’d like to get to be friends, but we’ve got time for that.” 

You’ve no clue how to respond, some deer-in-the-headlights instinct taking ahold of you, but James doesn’t seem to be expecting one. He reaches out to squeeze your shoulder, taking back his place at the stove. You take that as your cue to go.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐀 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃

Toji Fushiguro

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Summary: You feel something while sitting on your boyfriend's lap, and you have the perfect idea on how to help him.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, virgin!reader, oral sex (m. receiving), spitting, praising, reader gives her first blowjob, not mentioned but implied age gap

10k Event Masterlist

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The fact that you were inexperienced wasn’t an issue for Toji, in fact, he likes the fact that you didn’t really have many boyfriends. He likes to teach you how to do certain things– But he does hate certain things. He hates the fact that you would tease him without knowing so. 

Just randomly sitting on his lap, and kissing the most random spots makes Toji think the wildest possible thoughts. And he swears that sometimes you wear skimpy clothes just to tease him. But he knows you can be naïve, or maybe you’re just a little demon that loves to make Toji’s life impossible. Regardless, Toji doesn’t rush you to do anything that you don’t want to do.

Toji really does love you, if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have stuck in a sexless relationship. Sex isn’t a necessity but it is nice. He’d never make a comment about it to you though since he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable or put any unnecessary pressure on you. He wants you to be as comfortable as possible with him. But sometimes that comes at a great cost to him.

You sit on his lap, moving around to make yourself comfortable, and Toji bites down on his lip. You catch a glimpse of him, and he looks… Awkward. His elbow is on the end table that’s next to the couch, his chin resting on his hand while he looks away.

“Are you okay, baby?” You ask him, and Toji hums in response. You shift on his lap and you feel it, making your face grow hot. You take a moment to think of how to react, before wrapping your arms around his neck. “I want to help you.”

“Huh?” Toji raises his brow and asks, a bit taken back by what you just said. You stand up from his lap, grabbing his hand before attempting to pull him up from the couch. He stands up, asking, “What do you want to do?”

“I want to help you with your little problem.” You repeat, trying to lead him to his bedroom, and Toji hesitantly follows. 

“Are you sure… I mean… This isn’t what I had in mind for you.” Toji says, and he almost wants to slap himself for even thinking of turning you down. He’s suddenly become the most moral man on Earth, which he thought was impossible a couple of years ago.

“I’m sure.” You answer, forcing your boyfriend to sit down on the edge of his bed. You peck his lips and then his cheeks. Your lips go up to his ear, “It’s about time I give you a blowjob.”

“Just a blowjob, right?” Toji asks as you begin to pull down his sweatpants. It’s no surprise to you when you find him not wearing any underwear. Your eyes widen at the size of him though, and you’re wondering just how he’ll fit in your mouth.

“Yeah… Just a blowjob.” You answer as you get on your knees, your hand wrapping at the base of his cock. Toji watches you as you bite down your lip, unsure of how you want to start off. You've surely watched some videos, just to do this for him but your mind goes blank when you're in the moment.

“Spit on it, baby.” Toji tells you, making you roll your eyes as you bring your lips together. You do as he says, before your hand begins to stroke his cock. Your tongue licks the tip of his cock before it begins to circle around it. Toji really thought he would have to guide you through it, but it seems like you know what to do. At least for now.

Your mouth wraps around his cock, hollowing your cheeks before you begin to bob your head up and down on his cock. You take in as much as you can take, which isn’t a lot– It disappoints you, but Toji is over the moon. At least that’s what it seems when your eyes look up to find his head thrown back. Toji isn’t the type to really make any noise but he wants to know that you’re making him feel so good, “Your mouth feels so fucking good–”

Your jaw begins to get tired, so you lift your head, your tongue focusing on circling on the tip of his cock again. Toji looks down at you, and he swears he’s died and gone to heaven. He’s pictured this same exact scene so many different times, and he thought he’d never see the day.

“Your cock’s so big, baby.” You tell him, stroking his length. He grabs your head, and you slightly stand up for a moment to make it easier for him to kiss you. His tongue presses against yours, and when he pulls away, a string of saliva connects your lips, “I want to hear you moan for me, Toji.”

“Fuck, you’re so hot.” Toji says, as you settle on your knees again. Your tongue licks from the base of his cock to the tip of his cock. Your mouth wraps around him again, while your hand begins to play with his balls. Your other hand strokes the part of his cock that your mouth isn’t wrapped around. 

“Ngh– Fucking love your mouth.” Toji begins to moan your name, doing just as you want him to. He wants to keep you happy so this happens again. He’s thinking of you in a different position though… It’s too selfish to voice. He doesn’t want to rush you in any way but he’s only imagining how nice and tight your pussy feels. “You’re doing such a good job. Shit.”

Toji gets louder by the second, biting down his lip to suppress his moans, his breathing slowly getting heavier. His hand grips the bed until his cock twitches in your mouth, his salty cum hitting the back of your throat. Most of it drips down your mouth and goes down to your chin.

You lift your head, and Toji’s thumb runs up your chin, gathering his cum before he swipes it on your bottom lip. He praises you, “You did such a good job, baby…”

He bends down to kiss your lips, getting some of his own cum on his mouth. It’s not the first time it happens. He smirks down at you before he tells you, “But you’re gonna have to learn to swallow.”

[adreamfromnevermore]

Headcanon that the Bats must be the most infuriating members of the justice league. And it's got nothing to do with what they do or don't know or even their general skills and egos. Everyone is very used to Batman and the expectation that him and any of his spawn are somehow going to be three steps ahead of any issue they bring to the table ever.

No no, the infuriating bit? The stalking.

Listen, this is a family of freaks and weirdos. They work so well together because none of them were normal to start with and then they ended up traumatized. It's practically common practice in that family to accept that nothing is what it seems at face value and that all of your siblings are attempting to pry into your private life and cases at any given moment. I think for them it's honestly weirder if you take what they say at face value. They speak a language holy separate from any normally socialized person and it is a language of lies and half-truths that relies on the assumption that all parties are aware of that.

They're the most infuriating bitches around.

They'll tell someone something and appear to do the opposite and when confronted will have the most convoluted but sound reasoning of why they actually did exactly as they promised too.

They regularly pick people's pockets and hack into personal information because for them? That's practically a love language. They're obnoxious and they aren't even aware of it. Someone asks them to just tell the truth and they react like they've been shot. They're probably offended when they realize that someone hasn't been at least attempting to dig into them back, like come on man. I thought we were friends but you didn't even Google how long Nightwings been around? We've already put the bar on the floor for you guys? My siblings already have a full dossier ready on you because they caught us on camera in your home city during that 2 minute conversation we had 3 months ago. They sent it to me a few hours later. I think they got Oracle to help cause usually it takes them at least 12 hours.

You think they're being nice and friendly and then you realize that they have a nice little file compiled of everything you've done in the last five years, where you went to school and every note your teachers ever made about your behavior a decade ago when you were still a high schooler and fairly normal. If asked they'd probably be willing to bring out the family tree they built for you. They know what you did last summer better than you know what you did last summer. They have pictures, pictures that should be impossible because there's no way they were stalking you then and those sure don't look like security camera footage.

In reality Bats and Superman get along so well because that man is an investigative journalist and when they first met he could not leave it alone. Bruce was charmed the first time Clark Kent started doggedly attempting to ask him if he knew anything about Gothams new cryptid. It was cute how off base he was. But he was trying!!!! Bruce was sold for life! He dropped an dossier on lexcorp off in Clarks apartment a few days later. As a gift.

[luveline]

Hi honey! I hope you’re taking care of yourself ❤️ I love love LOVE how you write! Can I please request bombshell reader x Spencer telling the team she’s pregnant 💕

thank you for requesting! <3 fem, 2k

“Spencer?” 

Your quiet tone has his attention faster than any shouting would’ve; he expects high energy from you, and your murmur scares him half to death. He backtracks from the bathroom with his toothbrush still in his mouth, toothpaste dripping down his fingers as he yanks it out and asks, “What?” 

“Is this okay?” 

You chew your lip and turn to the side, illuminating your problem with a hand framed under your tummy. Your skin peeks out from the bottom of your shirt. 

The wonder of you is that you’ve always been beautiful, always, in Spencer’s eyes at least if not the entire world’s, because of how you present yourself, and of course because of your big heart. Your smile, the way you talk, all of it is beautiful and, most of the time, measured. Your clothes are carefully picked, and now you’re changing and your clothes need to change with it —your bump has appeared faster than Spencer realised it would, and you haven’t had time to upgrade your wardrobe. The cases are endless and you’d been more interested in doctor’s appointments and house viewings than clothes shopping.  

“What’s wrong?” he asks, perhaps a bit useless, white frothy paste sliding down his chin. 

You smile momentarily, nervous on your feet as you adjust your shirt. “I think I look very pregnant.” 

Spencer goes back into the bathroom to finish brushing.  “You look mildly pregnant,” he agrees loudly over the rush faucet. He spits, wipes his face, and rinses his toothbrush. 

“Compared to my usual non-pregnant look, I mean,” you say. 

“It’s just that shirt’s a little tight,” he promises. “We’ll find something.” 

You probably aren’t going to find something, you both realise. You stand in front of him in one of your soft bralettes, the ‘S’ of your pendant on your rising chest, shirtless and likely to stay that way. “Oh,” he says, tapping your bump gently with his knuckle. “Maybe it got bigger overnight.” 

“I think so,” you agree, taking his hand where it hovers to press to the top of the slope of the bump. You’re holding his hand more than you’re protecting the bump, a perplexed frown on your lips as you kneed his fingers in yours. 

“We don’t have time to go to the store, but we could be late,” he says. 

“What if we have a case?” 

“That’s a better reason to go shopping.” 

You pout for a kiss, leaning up to press your lips to his wry smile. “No. Do you still have that maroon sweater? The one that didn’t fit you right, with the v-neck?” 

Spencer helps you into said sweater though you don’t need his assistance, smoothing down the wrinkles carefully. It hides the too-short hem of your white shirt underneath, and paired with the collar, Spencer couldn’t be more in love with you. “You’re dressed like me five years ago,” he says. 

“Like it?” you flirt, your cheeks apples with your smug smile, your hands under your chin.

“You really are glowing.” 

“Don’t tempt me into kissing you stupid,” you say, still flirting, voice dipping into that warm, sweet place that probably caused the bump between you in the first place. 

“You’re lucky I don’t kiss you stupid,” he jokes, putting an arm around you for a quick hug. “Too bad we need to work to save to buy a stupid house instead.” 

“Have a stupid baby,” you mumble happily, your face pressed to his chest. He kisses your cheek. 

You’re both in incredible moods when you finally make it to work, tethered together from the parking lot to the elevator to the BAU office. There’s been a lot more hand holding since you found out you were pregnant, though you’re trying to keep it private just a little bit longer. Hotch gets antsy about pregnant people in the field (though he’d never force you to stay home), and the others can tend to be overbearing. 

You are excited to tell them. Spencer’s your family, the team is as good as, and they’ll all be so, so happy for you. At first you’d been waiting for the twelve week milestone for practicality’s sake, but now you’re just waiting for the right time. 

“Clothes get lost in the move?” Morgan asks. 

You aren’t telling them about the pregnancy, but you’re honest about other things. They know you’ve moved in with Spencer, and that you’re looking for a house. Morgan would’ve been offended if you hadn’t told him. He’d offered up a bunch of his properties to you both for viewing and promised a very good family and friends price point, but they hadn’t been perfect enough. It’s just a starter house, he’d argued, mostly unoffended at your pickiness. 

He doesn’t realise that you and Spencer wanna raise a baby, and you want as perfect a home as possible for at least the toddler years before you start looking to move up the ladder. A family home. 

“Very funny,” you praise, letting Spencer pull back your chair for you as you sit down. You feel the new extra roundness of your bump and wonder why nobody else has noticed it either. Spencer certainly can’t stop looking at it. You catch him all the time, and at night, alone and in bed, you let him run his hand up and down the hill of it, clearly amazed. 

“It looks good on you, mama,” Morgan says. 

You laugh. “Doesn’t everything?” you ask with an exaggerated smirk. 

“Yes,” Spencer says. 

You dip your head back in your chair. “This is why I love you.” 

“Devotion,” Spencer guesses, wiping at a smudge of makeup under your eye tenderly. 

You put your hand on your stomach. It’s weird how things change and don’t at the same time. You feel like you love him so much more now you’re a family with him, but you loved him endlessly before. Moments like this were plentiful and warm as sunshine, the undulating care in his touch a practised exercise at this point. You let your eyes close. He strokes your cheek. 

“Hotch wants everyone in the conference room,” JJ says, announcing herself and her towering cup of coffee as she breezes past the bullpen. 

You follow her upstairs to the conference room. Rossi, Hotch and Penelope are already waiting, everyone accompanied by their own creature comfort (coffee, coffee, and tea, respectfully). You and Spencer take seats opposite Hotch and Rossi, hands held together as always, his left in your right, his thumb kind against your knuckles. 

“The jet is still pre-loading from last time, so we can’t leave until late tonight, but we will be leaving,” Hotch begins, nodding at Penelope. “Until then, we’ll work the case from here.”

She nods back and clicks onto some severely disgusting photographs. 

You work through the facts together. Emily arrives late with apologies soon forgiven, your team a well-oiled machine. Of course, without being there, there’s only so much you can do, but it’s never not useful to have these discussions and to spitball with one another. 

Spencer gets stuck in his head. You fight the urge to kiss his cheek as he’d kissed yours this morning and decide on a more work appropriate show of affection, popping down to the kitchenette to make him a cup of coffee. 

You aren’t drinking coffee or anything caffeinated for the baby. You aren’t thirsty, but Spencer will worry if you don’t make yourself a drink too. You fill a glass with water from the sink and make your way back up the steps to the conference room. 

“It looks like there’s a racial motivation,” Spencer’s saying to Morgan. 

“Sure, but with only two victims so far, it could be coincidence,” Emily says. 

“Or not,” JJ says with a frown. 

“I think our killer would show it more, if it were,” you suggest, “there’s usually some aspect of overkill with hate crimes we aren’t seeing here.” 

You put the cup of coffee down in front of Spencer and sit in your chair. The sleeves on his sweater are too long. You push them up for the tenth time. 

“That’s Spencer’s?” Emily asks, having noticed your struggle.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve been sort of scatterbrained, I forgot to put a load in the dryer.” 

“Is your go bag ready?” Hotch asks. 

No. “Yeah, it’s fine. You don’t like my new look?” 

“I’ve never known you to wear clothes that don’t fit,” Morgan says.

“What are you trying to say, Derek?” you ask, propping your face in your chin. 

“You’re getting sloppy in your old age.” 

You turn to Spencer, beaming, and he shakes his head at you immediately. 

“And what’s with the water?”

Your smiling turns deer-in-the-headlights. “What?” 

“You don’t drink coffee anymore?” Morgan prompts. 

That piques the interest of Emily and Hotch simultaneously, but you know you’re caught when realisation colours JJ’s gaze. She stares straight at your glass, then your face. You can practically see her profiling your behaviour these last few weeks, the sudden trips to the bathroom, the worse than usual reluctance to be away from Spencer, and the sudden propensity for safer practice in the field. 

You smile. You’re caught. You see Hotch’s expression and know he knows it, too. 

You give Spencer a little nudge with your thigh, as though telling him, You say it. You know he wants to. 

“You can’t have more than three hundred milligrams of caffeine when you’re pregnant,” Spencer says, his pride unmissable in the slight lift of his chin, “it disrupts midterm foetal growth. Our baby might come out too small, which isn’t what we want, obviously, so she can’t drink coffee. Not for another six months, at least.” 

“Wha– wha– what?” Penelope asks, the physical manifestation of a kettle about to boil over, excitement bubbling and raring to explode as she grips the table. “You’re pregnant?” 

“With Spencer?” Emily asks, though she’s laughing before she’s finished. 

You frame his cheek with one hand and lean in to kiss it gently. “Who else?” you ask. 

The best part is watching everybody hug Spencer. You’re happy they love you and you accept their congratulations and their love with pleasure, but seeing a room full of people thrilled for him finally getting the life he’s wanted, and knowing you’re at least part of the reason, is pretty sweet. You put your hand on your baby bump and take a mental picture of him under Morgan’s arm, his cheeks pink, his smile achingly wide. 

Still, he cuts through his moment to reach for you. “Maybe someone else will be able to convince you to slow down,” he says, hand moving to your stomach protectively. 

You pretend to think it over. “Maybe in a month or two.” 

[hannieehaee]

18+ / mdi

content: loser!jungkook, sub!jungkook, softdom!reader, oral (m receiving), etc.

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, extra

wc: 1632

a/n: i havent read the previous three parts in months so if theres any discrepancies pls forgive</3

masterlist

in the time you'd known jungkook, you'd never actually been to his apartment.

he was at university on a scholarship, meaning that he didn't have to worry about paying for schooling or dorming. any money he earned from tutoring or any allowance received by his parents was all his to keep, meaning that his current residence was nicer than that of the average student.

despite being aware of all of this, you were still quite shocked the first time he brought you around.

unlike what you'd expected, jungkook's spacious studio apartment was not filled with nerdy figurines and stacks of comic books (god, that would've been adorable). instead, it replicated the appearance of the average bachelor pad. the furniture appeared of good quality, the bed was comfy, the decor clean, and even the cleanliness gave you a vibe of maturity and put-togetherness that you hadn't quite gotten from jungkook yet. at least not to this extent.

the most shocking thing, though? that was jungkook himself; his look and demeanor while lounging around his apartment.

he'd been growing his hair recently, something which you adored, though tonight had been the first time you'd ever seen him with it without the proper care you assumed went to it every morning. the messy curls laid at the sides, fluffy after a whole day of being worn and played with by the wind. accompanied by that, he donned some loose sweats and a simple tank top, two garments you'd never once seen on the boy. he tended to go for less casual outfits while in public, usually wearing buttoned up flannels or graphic tees.

unfortunately for you, his slight change in look had an instant effect on you. had anyone else seen him like this, you were sure they'd pursue him immediately. as of late, more and more girls were taking notice of him. since meeting you, his confidence had gone up and his way of presenting himself had evolved quite a bit. just a few more months and you were sure he'd become a heartthrob by all definition of the word.

"god, you're gorgeous," you practically whimpered as soon as he let you in, having taken a few moments to simply stare at him before pecking his lips as a greeting.

"oh, i- thanks. you're prettier," he mumbled back as he welcomed you in, "sorry it's a little messy."

he must've been kidding. the place was insanely tidy! you expected as much from jungkook, but it was still surprising to find a college-aged boy with cleanliness.

"it's perfect, baby. show me to your room?", you went straight into business.

with a sheepish smile, he led you to his room.

you had previously agreed that you'd be spending the night tonight. it was your first sleepover at his place, which had you both giddy at the thought. there was no special reason for it other than your sudden insistence for it about a week ago, claiming you wanted to see where a one jeon jungkook spent his nights away from you.

he was shy about it at first, as per usual, but agreed after a few smiles and kisses from you.

and so now you had the privilege of laying on his bed on a saturday night, clad in a pair of his boxers and an oversized shirt of his as you waited for him to do his skincare.

you had insisted on not packing an overnight bag, knowing jungkook would have anything you needed at his place — he was very well put together, after all.

smiling at him as soon as he entered the room, you extended your arms to motion him over to the bed, causing him to chuckle shyly as he stepped towards you. once he was at a close enough distance, you grabbed at his arms, pulling him to the bed and somehow managing to get him to lay down, climbing on him immediately after.

"hey, there, gorgeous," you flirted, hands on his shoulders and full weight sitting on his crotch area. it wouldn't take long until you found a tent under you.

"you don't have to try and fluster me every time you see me anymore, you know ..." he mumbled as he lost any ounce of control under you.

"where's the fun in that?", you smirked as your hands traced their way under his shirt, pulling it off him without a second thought, "god, how'd you get even more handsome?", you groaned as you took him in, so pretty below you with his long hair and his breathless state.

"i- i just- oh-,"

you gave him no chance to speak, choosing instead to quickly throw off your his own shirt and lower your lips down to his. the kiss was immediately heated. you could never really help yourself around jungkook, but fortunately, he liked that about you.

he'd gotten a bit less shy with time. his hands were more willing to explore your body nowadays, currently finding themselves on your waist as he pulled you closer to him.

you adored how much more comfortable he'd gotten around you, both sexually and not so. at times, he'd even initiate sex with you. these instances were a bit awkward for him, but you always liked to encourage him, letting him know through your enthusiasm how much you enjoyed it when he went after what he wanted.

however, you still had to keep him on his toes somehow.

like now.

"no touching, baby," you murmured between kisses, grabbing onto his hands and pinning them above his head as you leaned down onto him.

with a simple gulp, he nodded, lips shyly smooching so you'd kiss him again.

continuing your kiss, your hands went down to his torso, sneaking under the fabric and beginning to play with the skin there. your fingers traced the ridges of his abs, adoring how he shuddered against you but made no complaint. the silent effect of your actions only lasted up until your hands made their way north, eventually finding his nipples and tracing them teasingly.

the poor boy under you whimpered against your lips. his arms made some movement, but did not stray away from where you'd left them above his head, still pressed together as he attempted to follow your directions and not touch you.

your next move was to rid him of his clothes altogether, requiring to get off him for a few moments but immediately taking your rightful place straddling him on his bed once more.

"prettiest thing i've ever seen," you hummed as you looked down at him, leaning down to press kisses on every inch available.

"please ..." he mumbled when your lips first made contact with his chest, knowing their next destination.

ignoring him, you continued as before, letting your lips find their way to his nipple and twirling your tongue around it in a teasing manner. your barely there touch had him whining at the contact, wanting more from you.

you took pity on him, deciding to go all the way and suckling on the bud just how you knew he liked. except the poor boy could barely handle the pleasurable pain that came from it. he writhed under you as you alternated between pecs, filling his chest with love bites that'd flourish by the next morning.

the kisses made their way down his body, landing at his happy trail by the time you lowered yourself to your knees at the end of the bed. with a bite to your lip, you enjoyed the view of what was to be in your mouth in mere moments.

jungkook sat up, wanting to see what threat of pleasure approached him next. he groaned upon seeing how hungry you looked eyeing his hardness, but he remained a good boy by keeping his hands to his sides rather than reaching for you.

"a-ah, fuck," he groaned as soon as your lips made contact with his member, lightly closing in on his tip and suckling at it in a way that had his breath catching and eyes rolling back.

keeping your eyes on the trembling boy, you caught glimpse of his hands fisting harshly at the sheets, holding himself back from wrapping around your hair as he usually did. the thought made you smile around him. he was so so sweet and well mannered.

deciding to be just as nice, you engulfed as much of him as you could, practically deepthroating him. his reaction was immediate, whining and writhing above you while you had your fun with his cock.

"p-please, oh fuck, please," he pleaded for nothing in particular.

you weren't one to ever deny him of anything. every one of your actions was meant to aid him in his pleasure.

humming against him, you slobbered all over him, not minding the mess of your saliva and his cum slowly dripping down onto your chin as long as the pretty boy above you was losing himself because of you.

as per usual, his orgasm hit him pretty quick. as shy as he was, he was never too timid to let himself cum when he hit his limit. jungkook was one to appreciate the pretty girl giving him pleasure by demonstrating his immense appreciation.

it always got to you how loud he became while cumming, which was currently causing a mess in your panties. you decided to enjoy every drop of his orgasm before paying mind to that, though.

finally done torturing him by licking off any remnants off his dick, you climbed up his body and sat yourself on his lap with a smile, leaning in for a teasing tongue-filled kiss before humming in satisfaction against his breathless lips.

"did i tell you i love how you're growing out your hair?"

he gulped.

"you've, uh, you've mentioned."

[devosin]

— LATE NIGHTS & FLASHING LIGHTS !! prologue : a series of unfortunate events . .

♡. Spotify playlist | Updates, every Friday !! — Vil Schoenheit x reader | Vil pov . .

Vil sighs, scrunching his eyes shut, which proved to be more difficult than it appeared with the mud mask that he applied over half an hour ago still on his face, currently drier than the gluten free bread he bought last week. He melted into his couch, feeling an overwhelming sense of boredom settle into his otherwise restless body. 

Before he knew it, he found himself mindlessly scrolling through Magicam, looking through the self proclaimed critique’s 30 to 60 second reviews on his new movie or the finale of some show he was in, for a hit of dopamine. Which clearly wasn’t working, as each video was the same thing washed over and over again repeated with new synonyms bundled together to sound authentic (Which it rarely was) and of course, there was those few criticisms here and there, nothing uncommon. 

Vil lays his head back, scrolling some more, “Influencer Tartaglia joins the new soon to debut boyband, D!CKZ—”, he shuts his phone and tosses it to the side carelessly . . Did he ever mention his distaste for influencers moving into the entertainment industry? . . It makes his blood boil, just a tiny bit, since most of the influencers tend to ruin it for a lot of genuinely talented and lesser known actors out there, not to mention they’re so-called talent is usually mediocre at best. 

And he could go on and list all the reasons why influencers do not deserve a spot in the spotlight with the elite, and they may all seem reasonable at first, but it’s a cover-up for the real reason.

He feels some weird sort of envy, towards those individuals who put in zero effort and somehow make it, and get all these big protagonist roles right away, and how they aren’t criticized for their faults or terrible acting skills, just because they have a huge built fanbase of delusional fangirls ready to defend them from the get-go. 

Or how they aren’t criticized when they look less than perfect on screen, although he appreciates that current age viewers can acknowledge that it’s only human to get acne or maybe a pimple here and there, he didn’t meet the same fate when he was younger . .  It just makes him feel bitter . . and he’d never speak those feelings into existence, but deep down he does feel a bit hurt by the shift, it sometimes makes him feel like all those previous breakdowns were for naught. 

Vil snaps out of his pity party for one, getting up and stretching, going into the bathroom to wash off the mask before it dries out his skin (It probably already has), burn-out has hit him hard, and as much as his love for acting runs-deep, he’d rather take a break before his audience starts noticing his shift in acting. 

Which is why he agreed to hosting the show in the first place, he wanted to switch up his career, for awhile at least, he’s taking a break from acting but doesn’t want to directly leave the industry, because it’s difficult to fit right back in place once you leave, as there's always someone who could come and steal your position, and maybe even do better . . that’s why this industry is so hard to survive in, and as pitiful as it sounds, he’s practically married to his work, he can’t exactly risk it, in peace. 

Vil dries his face with a towel and then moves to grab his moisturizer, when his work phone rings. 

“Hello, this is Amanda from Descendants. Inc. We talked before reguardinging ‘Late nights & Flashing lights’ . ” . . . “So, due to a multitude of reasons, we’re kind of in a time crunch to get the premiere launched, by the end of this month actually . . . but, we’ve received confirmation on who’ll be co-hosting with you, Y/n L/n!” 

“ . . . excuse me?” 

“This must be such a shock, but Y/n has actually been our top pick for this role, and the internet seems to really want to see the two of you on-screen together, considering your screen presence, I honestly think you two will be a perfect match for the show.”  

“I—”, Vil’s voice was hoarse as he tried to mentally wrap around all the information that was just dropped, “Ah—That’s time, we’re so excited to see you on set next week.” . . . “If you’d like, I could send you y/n’s number beforehand, so the two of you could talk things through?”, that seems to snap him back to reality, as the professionalism seeps right back into him, “That would be lovely, thank you.” 

The doorbell rings, informing Vil that his takeout that he ordered about two hours ago had finally arrived, but he didn’t feel like eating anymore.

Drinking is completely legal at 18-19 in my country, so I'm just putting that over here before someone tries fighting with me about it (This has happened before), also Vil is currently in his late 20's.

Don't expect everything to play off of Vil in-game, since this is placed like a decade into the future, so things will be changes and messed around with to fit the current age and setting more. <3

Profiles | Masterlist | Next chapter . .

— LATE NIGHTS & FLASHING LIGHTS !! ♡. Synopsis : VIL SCHOENHEIT recently signed a contract under Descendant. Inc for his very own late night show, only to find out his co-star and fellow co-host is none other than Y/n L/n, someone he hates despite knowing very little about them and never having met them, previously. Y/N L/N, an actor who made their debut 3 years ago and hasn’t been able to catch a break since, recently decided to sign a deal with Descendants. Inc to host their new late night show “late nights & flashing lights”, as a break from acting . . Only to find out their favorite long-time actor will be co-hosting with them. Tune in every Friday, for a new episode of “late nights & flashing lights” to see if these two hosts can find a peaceful work-bond amidst their judgements . . and quite possibly even love? . .

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[katiascraft]

"Tryna feel it like a compliment? It's feeling like the opposite" | LN4

Parings: Lando Norris x reader.

Summary: you go to a mutual friend's birthday party. You and Lando broke up a few months ago. He has a new girl and she looks nothing like you.

PART 2 -> "SUE ME"

Word count: +1,7k.

Now playing: "Opposite" by Sabrina Carpenter.

Warnings: angst. Not a native english speaker so there could be errors. Not proofread.

a/n: hey again :3 Dont forget to like or reblog! And follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)

MASTERLIST

“Are you sure you’re ready to go y/n? We can stay otherwise. No pressure my love” your best friend said lovingly to you.

The both of you were invited to a friend’s birthday party. Both of you are already dressed up and beautiful. The thing was that Lando was also going to the party too. And that was nerve breaking for you.

You haven’t seen Lando in months. Exactly 5 months since you both decided to end the 2 year relationship you’ve built. It was the worst break up you’ve ever gone through. And you’re not even over him yet. And to be honest it was more his devotion than yours. That hurt like hell.

He said he didn’t love you anymore and there was no point in pushing something that was already off. You still have nightmares of him saying that. Nothing hurt you more than that moment. Those words. His lips said it. His eyes looked straight through you - seeing you breaking as each letter he pronounced.

You didn’t think you were ready to see him again. But at the same time you needed to see him. It was sort of a test you wanted to put yourself through. A self destructive one. You knew it was gonna be touchy but you also wished you could reconnect.

You nodded to your bestie. “I wanna go. If something goes wrong I’ll pay the taxi. Don’t worry” you said confidently. Even though you wanted to throw up already because of the anxiety you were feeling. Your friend giggled a little. She gave you a confidence hug.

“You look incredible. If I were Lando I would choke with my drink and die” she joked to make you laugh. You did a little. But hearing his name shattered you inside. She took your hand que got out of her house.

The Uber drove fastly to the party. It was a busy London night but the party was going to be on the outsides of the city. Which in this case didn't help getting that fast to the party. But it was what it was. The two of you paid the Uber in cash and got out of the car.

The first people receiving you both at the party were clearly already drunk. You don’t see Lando yet and that made you think that maybe he didn’t come. Just the thought of it made you feel calmer. You followed your friend to where George and Carmen, his girlfriend, were dancing with the group of friends. even Lewis Hamilton was there. You say hi to everyone with a big smile and hugged all of them. You were starting to feel happy that Lando didn’t come. Or at least you wanted to convince yourself of that.

You didn't remember how many hours have passed since you got to the party and started drinking. You were dancing in the middle of the dance floor with an unknown guy you met on the bar. Everything was fine until you saw right behind the guy what you didn’t expect nor you didn’t want to believe you saw.

It was Lando. With another girl. Kissing. Like crazy.

You felt your heart skip a bit. Even you felt breathless. You stopped dancing in shock processing the view you had.

Your heart was shattering every second that passed by looking at him with another girl.

She looked nothing like you. Blonde shiny hair. Flawless face with big lips. You just couldn’t take it.

All the times he said you were the most beautiful girl he has ever seen. He used to say that your looks didn’t compare to anyone. Yet there he was with the opposite of you. You felt so little in that room full of people. You thought the world was crumbling down while you saw him laughing with her. He even blushed nervously just how you made him feel back then.

You couldn’t move. You didn’t know how to continue your life properly. You were still so in love with him. He was the love of your life. You loved every single detail of him. You couldn’t stop dreaming of his eyes or about his laugh. You dream of being happily ever after with him. When you were together you thought you were end game. Nothing could break you. But then he stopped loving you.

He didn’t love you anymore.

Now he loves this girl.

Has he ever loved you? Did he tell the truth? Was he honest?

You woke from the trance because your friend came to rescue you with Carmen. They try to talk to you to check on you but in that instant you find Lando’s eyes looking straight to you. His smile disappeared when he saw you. And when that happened you just wanted to cry really bad. You tried to hold it together but you couldn’t. You couldn’t stare at him anymore. You couldn’t bear the pain you were feeling now.

You sprinted straight to the bathroom followed by your best friend and Carmen. You didn’t want to cause a scene but you couldn’t control your anxiety. You wanted to stop existen right there and then. You wanted to disappear. You felt ashamed.

How could you think he would love to be back with you? To the life you had together?

You were never the love of his life nor the woman of his dreams.

He looked happy, something you now know you couldn’t do.

Your friend tried to calm you down but you were just a waterfall of tears. Carmen tried to talk to you to make you feel better but you couldn’t listen. You just listen to all the negative thoughts that were eating you alive.

He stayed with you just to find someone who is the opposite to you. You couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was going on and on in your head making the scar grow bigger and bigger.

When you were back to reality you just hugged your best friend. You needed her. She knew all of your feelings. She has been there with you all along. Along with all of the pain you felt since Lando walked away. You have grieved your future self since then. You wanted a life with Lando. A life that now didn’t exist and would never exist.

After a few minutes you could calm yourself down. Carmen and your friend fixed your makeup and tried to make you feel better. But you just wanted to go home.

“I’ll call an Uber. I need to go home. I can’t stay” I said to my friend and she nodded.

“Of course. Don’t wanna see you like this. Everything it’s going to be okay. I’ll call it” she said softly and stroked your hair.

You all got out of the bathroom and Carmen helped to pick your stuff up. Your friend was trying to get an Uber. You were so nervous to be out again at the party and seeing him again. So Carmen suggested you go outside while your friend finds an Uber who accepts to take you home. You agreed and went outside.

Out there you found a bench available so you sat there and started scrolling your Twitter on your phone. After a while you felt someone sitting next to you. When you looked up it was Lando. You felt terrible. He smiled a little.

“Hey… you okay?” He asked quietly. He looked nervous. You two were. The tension was high between you both. You feel uncomfortable. You’ve never felt like that with him around before. That made your heart break again. You swallow hard.

“Yeah…” you said shortly. He nodded looking around avoiding your sight. You breathe heavily. He licked his lips.

“You look beautiful” he said, finally looking at you. You just stared at the ground. Was he for real? He is with another girl looking so different and he has the audacity to call me beautiful? You felt angry. You were so hurt and he was making it worse.

You looked at him with no facial expressions. “How can you say that to me when you’re dating her?” The words left your mouth without thought. But you didn’t feel bad about it. His face showed how surprised he felt by your question. “Don’t look at me like that, Lando. What’s your intention coming here and calling me beautiful when you already have another girl and she looks the opposite to me? Go fuck yourself. You really don’t care about me. You never did. You wouldn’t be here if you would” you were furious. so hurt. You needed to scream at him but controlled your tone just because the situation it’s not where that should happen. His eyes went wide.

“Y/n I don’t know what you are talking about! Yes I’m dating another girl so? You are beautiful to me I just wanted to talk to you” he said defensively. You rolled your eyes and stood up in front of him.

“I hate you. You are dead to me. What do you want to know about me? That I’m miserable since you said you didn’t love me anymore so you can be proud of yourself for breaking my heart? Or you wanted to pretend ya never happened? Go fuck yourself. My friend was right about you. You’re a fucking player. I should’ve listened to them. So I wouldn’t be this fucking broken. Hope you’re happy Lando.” You said having enough of this. You felt very offended by his attempt of you didn’t know what. When you stormed out you bumped into his new girl and spilled her drink all over her shiny silver dress.

“Sorry not sorry” you said to her not caring a fuck about her or her dress or her night. He replaced you so easily. You were blinded by hatred and pain. She told you something but you didn’t hear. You took your best friend and got her out of the party too.

“What happened?” She asked worried, finally finding an Uber who accepted to pick you both up. You sigh so stressed. Adrenaline was pushing hard on your veins.

“Lando talked to me and I just told him to fuck off” you said even surprising yourself for doing such thing.

“Oh shit” your best friend said.

——————————————————————————————

I really wanted Lando to win COTA 😭. Franco was so good though - love him!!!

Hope you liked it 💌 if you ideas my inbox is open so leave your requests!

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 YOU'VE BEGUN TO FEEL LIKE HOME

FEATURING: pm!dazai osamu

SUMMARY: dazai is not as slick as he thinks he is, and you let him get away with way too much. OR, dazai realizes the only place he feels comfortable enough to sleep is at your side, but god forbid he vocalizes that.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: i'm on another pm!reader & dazai kick LOL, prepare for an influx of fics about them. i'm starting with this one because it's softer, the classic sharing a bed fic & u guys deserve some lightness after uu6 (warnings: fem!reader, nothing else really, this is light-hearted as promised)

Dazai doesn’t think you notice when he sneaks into your room at night.

To be fair, you don’t think you noticed the first few times. He’s very careful to make sure you’re still sleeping when he lets the door crack open so he can slip in. He shifts the blinds around just enough so that when he lays down and the sun starts to rise, it’ll hit him right in the eye, waking him up before you, so he can slip out unnoticed.

But he messed up two weeks ago. Or, well, it wasn’t really his fault. The hinges of your door creaked just a bit too loudly when he pushed it open, stirring you from your sleep, but he was evidently too tired to even notice. Your first reaction was obviously to tell him to get the fuck out, irate that he’d woken you up, but you found yourself hesitating as he began his swift and efficient process of setting up your room so he can lay there with you to get some rest and disappear before you wake up. 

He slept above the covers on the edge of the bed, careful to keep space between the two of you—whether it was because he didn’t want to risk waking you up, or if he just didn’t want to touch you, you didn’t know, but you think it’s the former from the way you’ve noticed his body unconsciously trying to seek you out at night, only for him to startle awake and immediately move away.

You told yourself that you would address it the next morning—ask him what the fuck he was thinking sneaking into your bedroom—but you faltered when you saw how refreshed he was in the morning, bouncing around your apartment, the perpetual bags beneath his eyes mostly faded. You put together then how long he’s been doing this: three weeks, at least. You’d been wondering why he was suddenly so energetic some days, but it was easy to figure out that those days are the ones that he slips into your room to sleep.

You’d known for a while that Dazai doesn’t sleep well. Spends most nights wandering around your apartment looking for things to do if he doesn’t have missions; he only ever does sleep when he’s so drunk that he ends up passing out on your kitchen floor or he’s so tired that he physically can’t keep his eyes open any longer. You’d always wondered if it was because he can’t sleep or if it was because he doesn’t want to sleep, plagued with nightmares, memories whenever he closes his eyes.

So you let it continue—it doesn’t really bother you, he’s always careful to not disturb you and you figure that it’s better he gets at least some decent sleep so he doesn’t get himself killed on a mission because he’s depriving himself of it.

It’s not until a few weeks later that he realizes that you know. You’re half asleep when he tries to sneak into your room, barely conscious; you don’t remember to pretend to be asleep.

The door creaks open and shuts and you instinctively roll over, shifting up onto your elbows and squinting, eyes focusing on Dazai’s figure shrouded by the darkness, halfway across your room to your window. He freezes as soon as he realizes you’re awake. 

“Dazai?” you ask quietly, voice a bit rough with sleep, mind moving a bit slow as you try to piece together what’s going on..

“I-” he starts to say—for a second, he’s caught off guard, fumbling for some sort of excuse. But Dazai is Dazai, so he recovers quickly. “Oh good, you’re awake. You see, I was trying to-”

“Shut up,” you murmur, laying back down and pulling the covers back, realizing what he’s here for. “Lay down.” 

Dazai doesn’t budge. “What?” he breathes out, caught off-guard and clearly exhausted. You can see the dark bags beneath his eyes—he’s been on a mission for four or five days now, dealing with Mishima out in Tokyo. You figure that he hasn’t gotten any sleep since he left. “What are you talking about?” 

His voice takes a cooler tone after the initial ‘what’, a defense mechanism, and you know Dazai is about to bolt to try to avoid this conversation, but it’s been weeks and you think it's about time. You crack an eye open to scowl at him, noticing the closed off expression on his face and the anxiety thinly veiled behind his dark eye. Before he can make a run for it, you push yourself up. You’re quick and Dazai is exhausted, so it’s easy for you to scramble forward and grab his wrist, wrangling him onto the bed with you.

Dazai kicks and flails, you scowl at him when he messes up your duvet and he bares his teeth at you like a wild animal. You tumble on the mattress with him for a few seconds, he bucks you off of him and nearly onto the ground, you spit a few curses at him—wide awake now—and grab his wrists, pinning them above his head and pressing your knee into his lower back. If Dazai wasn’t half asleep, he’d probably have been able to come out on top but you can feel how tired he is with how sluggish his limbs move and how heavy they are whenever one of them lay on you, as if he can barely hold himself up. 

“What’s your issue?” you demand, biting back a yawn as you glare down at him.

Dazai twists his head to the side, looking at you from the corner of his eye with an indignant expression. “My issue?” he spits out. “You just manhandled me onto your bed. Let go of me.”

“You’ve been sneaking into my bed for a month, Dazai.”

Dazai stills and you watch as his cheeks instantly flame up. His eye is wide as he stares at you from the corner of it. You’d almost think he’s cute if he wasn’t Dazai.

“I have not.”

He lies. He lies. He lies as if you haven’t literally caught him in the act. You stare at him aghast, you thought maybe he’d try to wiggle his way out of it with a ‘no, you’ve misunderstood,’ not a straight up lie. 

“You liar,” you accuse, voice pitched in disbelief. “You just lied right to my face.”

“No, I didn’t.” 

Dazai lies again; his face is even more red now, and you think that’s to show just how exhausted he is because Dazai usually wears countless masks to hide himself from everyone. You think you strip him of one, and there are two more there protecting him—like a goddamn hydra, cut off one head and two more grow back. 

But it seems like catching him in the act tonight, while he’s already tired and half-dead on his feet, was the equivalent of burning the heads of the hydra. His masks are gone and he’s left embarrassed and fumbling. You almost want to laugh, but you’re so incensed by the sheer audacity he has to blatantly lie to your face that you can’t even bring yourself to. 

“You just did it again.”

“I did not.”

“Dazai,” you say exasperated, shifting a bit and he lets out an irritated grunt, tossing you an outraged look as you accidently dig your knee even more into his back. “Stop fucking around. You’ve been coming into my room at night every three days for at least a month.”

Dazai looks mortified.

“You’ve known for a month,” he demands. He wiggles like a worm trying to free himself from your grasp but you double down, pressing your weight down on his back. “You’ve known for a month, and you never said anything. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I’ve known for two and a half weeks,” you correct, “but I figured it was a month or more based on when I started noticing your…mood improvements.”

A gentle way of putting that he doesn’t look like he wants to murder anyone that looks in his direction at any given moment, but Dazai obviously understands what you’re getting at and looks even more humiliated.

You almost feel bad.

Almost.

“It’s not-” Dazai starts to say. He stutters. He stutters. A part of you wishes that you could record this, knowing you’ll never get the chance to see Dazai so caught off guard like this probably ever again. “I don’t-”

“I don’t care, Dazai,” you sigh tiredly. “I don’t mind. It doesn’t bother me. Just stop fucking being a creep about it, Christ.”

“No,” Dazai says, voice raised in pitch and petulant as he turns his face to press it down into your pillow. His words are muffled as he continues, “No. No. It’s ruined now. You’ve ruined it.”

Your eyes slide shut, you sigh. You’re suddenly tired again, you decidedly don’t want to deal with Dazai Osamu’s fickle and capricious nature. Because of that, you let go of him. You shake your head as you move off of him, sitting back down in bed and giving him a chance to flee, like he wanted to begin with.

Dazai does not budge.

At all. 

You stare at him in disbelief. 

Did he fall asleep?

You poke the side of his head and Dazai doesn’t let out a noise of complaint or shift even a centimeter, his shoulders rise and fall slowly and you turn your gaze up to the ceiling, praying for patience.

“You can’t sleep like that,” you say more to yourself than him. “You’re gonna suffocate yourself, you loser.”

You try to push him onto his side, but he startles awake as if he’d only just barely started dozing off. You watch as he jolts, sluggish limbs trying to push himself up, blinking blearily. You think he looks even more mortified when he realizes that as soon as he rested his head down, he immediately started drifting off.

“Dazai, you’re exhausted. Sleep,” you say, amusement dwindling as your brows furrow in concern. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so off-kilter before.

Has he really not slept since he left?

“No,” Dazai says, and even though the exhaustion is clear in his voice, he’s stubborn and trying to push himself up. “I can’t sleep because you had to go ahead and ruin it.”

“I didn’t ruin anything, Dazai,” you say, becoming increasingly more irritated as you lose out on more sleep. You have a meeting with Mori in the morning and you don’t want to head into it half-asleep. “You’ve been sneaking into my bed for a-”

“Stop saying that,” Dazai complains, covering his face with his hands as he sits at the edge of your bed, back turned to you. “It’s not-you’re just selfish.”

You gape. “Excuse me?” you say, even more appalled at this outlandish insult than you were over him lying to your face.

“You’re selfish. You keep the soft blankets and the nice mattress all to yourself. You’re selfish, you leave me with the scraps and then call me a creep for wanting a decent night of sleep,” Dazai says, voice a sulky hiss.

You stare at him—you don’t respond, just stare at the back of his head, willing yourself not to get violent, because there is no way that the boy who has moved himself into your apartment, leeches off your food, shampoos, soaps, and conditioners, has made a home on your couch and in your guest bedroom, who sneaks into your bed without even a small complaint from you, has the nerve to call you selfish.

As if Dazai can feel the rapidly approaching violence coming from you, he turns to look at you over his shoulder, visible eye wide and deceptively sad, head tilted to the side at a demure angle that you know he uses to get what he wants from whatever fool falls for the shitty act. You think he has some nerve trying to use it on you as if you won’t see right through it.

“It’s not fair,” he says. His voice is soft and sweet now, honeyed but you can all but taste the venom of the manipulation in the sweetness. “I just want to sleep too. It’s not fair you get all of the comfortable stuff. You’re making me seem like a creep, but I just want to sleep, and now everything is ruined.”

Therein lies the issue: the mattresses in your bedroom and the guest bedroom are in fact the same, and the sheets are the same brand and style but in different colors. The comfort of the bedroom is not the issue here. So, you choose to play his game.

“Fine,” you agree lightly. “You can take my bedroom. I’ll move into the guest bedroom. Nothing will be ruined anymore. Problem solved.”

“No.”

The sweet expression on his face drops, his gaze sharpens as he stares at you from the corner of his eye. You can barely refrain from rolling your eyes.

“No?” 

“No.”

“And why not, exactly?” you ask tightly, the thin smile on your lips strained.

“You’re not allowed in my room,” Dazai says matter-of-factly.

Oh my god, you think to yourself, feeling a headache coming on, the fucking audacity of this boy.

“That is my guest room,” you say slowly. “If I want to go in there-”

“It’s been mine for over a year. It’s mine, and you’re not allowed in, so you have to stay here,” Dazai corrects firmly. “Therefore, everything is still ruined.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No.”

“Why, Dazai?” you ask, becoming frustrated quickly. “What is your fucking issue? Jesus, I’m tired, I-”

“I can’t sleep! I can’t sleep unless you’re yhere and now it’s ruined because you weren’t supposed to know,” Dazai says so suddenly and so loudly that it startles you, and then he looks distressed as if he didn’t mean to say that. “I can’t-I don’t know why-it just happened-I don’t-”

Dazai cuts himself off with a sharp breath when he realizes he can't even talk his way out of the situation, only fumbling over an explanation and making things worse for himself. If he looked embarrassed before, it’s nothing compared to how he looks now. His visible eye looks glassy, expression twisted and uneasy. His exhaustion has loosened his tongue too much and now he looks like he wants to rid himself of it entirely. His fingers are curled into fists so tightly that you think his uneven nails must be drawing blood from his palms.

At once, all of the fight left in you disappears.

“I’m going,” Dazai says more to himself than you. “I’m going. I’m just going to go. It doesn’t matter. Forget it.”

You don’t know if by go he means go to ‘his’ room or if he means leave your apartment and hide away in his shipping container for days like he usually does when he’s upset about something. Either way, Dazai is close to dead on his feet—you can see it in the way he sways as he tries to push himself up and you can see it in the way his visible eye droops down, hardly able to hold it open. You don’t think he’d make it to the hall without his legs giving out on him, much less to his shipping container halfway across the city—he’d be easy pickings for the numerous enemies he’s made waiting for a chance like this to finally take him out.

You sigh and before he can get half a step away, you snatch his wrist and tug him right back down into the bed. He shoots you an affronted look.

“Stop manhandling me,” he complains again. “You’re turning into a brute like Chuuya.”

“Shut up,” you say halfheartedly, “and lay down. How is going somewhere else going to solve your sleeping problems? I don’t know how you’re somehow both the dumbest and smartest person I’ve ever met.”

Dazai curls in on himself a bit, and you frown because he’d usually preen and tease you about the compliment, but he only looks unsure now. “It’s ruined-”

“Lay down,” you say, firmer this time, watching as Dazai’s gaze lingers on you for a moment before he averts his attention to the ceiling. He lays down awkwardly, head resting on your pillow; he turns on his side so that his back is to you. He makes no move to pull the covers over him. 

You let yourself roll your eyes now that he’s not looking at you, reaching down to pull the covers over both of you. You hesitate for a second, but then you choose to shift closer to him, resting your head down on the pillow as you wrap your arm loosely around his waist. He stiffens instantly, and you give it a second to see if he relaxes. When he doesn’t, you start to push yourself back away from him but before you can, he grabs your wrist to hold you in place, the tension in his shoulders dissipating as he relaxes back against you.

“Nothing is ruined,” you murmur, eyes sliding shut now that you can finally rest. “I told you, I don’t care. Just sleep, Dazai. You need it.”

“... Only for tonight, one last time,” he yawns, unconsciously shifting back closer to you. It’s another blatant lie, but this one only makes you smile fondly.

“Sure,” you agree. “Only for tonight.”

When you wake up in the morning, Dazai is tucked right into your side. You’d shifted at some point during the night to lay onto your back and he’d curled right into you, resting his head on your shoulder and slinging an arm around your waist. Your gaze flickers to the clock on your nightstand and you let out a soft breath when you see that you have thirty minutes before you have to be at the main headquarters for your meeting with Mori but…

Your mouth dries when you glance down at Dazai. His bandaged eye is pressed into your body, but you can see the way his visible one is slid shut, lashes brushing his cheek as he sleeps. His face is so smooth and relaxed, breaths deep and even, peaceful in a way that you never really see of Dazai Osamu. You hadn’t fully closed your blinds before falling asleep last night, and you find yourself entranced by the way Dazai looks underneath the early morning sun, breath hitching as he lets out a soft noise in the back of his throat before shifting closer to you.

Fuck.

You let out a puff of air, eyes sliding shut. There’s no way you’ll be able to slip out of bed without waking him up, and you find that you don’t want to wake him up. Dazai is an irritating little shit, and he makes your life as difficult as he possibly can, but you think you’d be cruel purposely disrupting the little bit of peace in his life that he can have.

(You also think that you never give a shit about cruelty unless Dazai Osamu is somehow involved and the recipient of it, but you instantly dispose of that thought.)

Decision made, you reach for your phone and quickly shoot a text to Mori:

Something came up. Meet later.

And you promptly shut your phone off before settling back in bed with Dazai, arm curling around his waist and head falling to the side so that you can bury your face in his soft brown hair. You notice, as you doze back off, that it smells suspiciously like the expensive vanilla shampoo that you specifically told him not to use, but you’re already too sleepy to make a fuss out of it. 

You’ll bitch about it later, you decide.

(If you can feel him smile against your shoulder as you fall back asleep with him, you ignore it.)

[saintslewis]

❝ 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒 | 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒 ❞

pairing: sir lewis hamilton x fem!journalist reader

summary: a lil joke thing i wanted to write because homeboy is bringing home the big bucks 🤭

warnings: just read 🫵🏽 this is a crack fic lol

saint’s team radio 🎀: don’t take this all too seriously 😭 hope y’all enjoy plus who know i’ll actually make it into a thing 🧍🏽‍♀️

tags: @alika-4466 @purplelewlew @exotic-iris13 @arshiyuh @mauvecherie-writes @yeea-nah @youre-sooooo-funny @louvrepool @queenshikongo3 @cherry2stems @httpsserene @motheroffae

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Being an independent journalist in this sport wasn’t easy at all but only within the parameters of any paddock around the world as most journalists rarely agreed with you, being neutral about anything in f1 wasn’t your thing.

Speaking your mind as the race went on was what set you apart from the rest, along with your humour and your honesty towards drivers and team principals. Not to mention you were extremely biased, keeping your liking to three to five drivers but only one occupied your mind every time you think about him.

I think you know who I’m talking about.

Your support for Lewis goes back to 2015, discovering the sport and immediately wanting to put your journalism skills to the test, aiming for the f1 paddock to at least catch a glimpse of the most talked about driver. Quickly building up a blog and several other social media accounts, you got to telling the world your thoughts and feelings for every race and your supporters rooted for you to achieve your goal.

Having the opportunity to attend thee race in 2020 as a guest of F1, you arrived at the Turkish Grand Prix with your head held high and a dress so gorgeous that it sparked rumours between you and the driver you were writing about. Not to mention the hug he gave you when you first met in the Mercedes garage, praising and thanking you for the support over the years. He’s been watching you and your work. That made your heart so warm.

Then he won his 7th world championship, breaking all records and that day, he deemed you his lucky charm.

And since then, it’s been a work wife-work husband friendship between you two. Fans constantly shipping you too, the clips of your shared interviews at the media pen of the intense eye contact and even off-track sightings once in a while such as a quick lunch.

yourusername • 13 mins ago

The atmosphere in Australia was unlike anything you’ve ever seen in your career, the paddock was practically painted red, Ferrari red to be specific. Everyone eager for Lewis to arrive as his first season as a driver for the legendary team.

Deciding to subtly support him and his new team, you rocked maroon everything, not yet ready to fully embrace the extreme bright red. It just might be your new favourite colour, from your hair right down to the tips of your high heeled boots.

Whilst setting your camera equipment up (gracefully given to you by Ferrari themselves), you couldn’t help but reminisce back to the year before of when he told you he was leaving Mercedes, a single facetime call in the nighttime.

“You made me pause the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, this better be good.” You said, placing the popcorn bowl down on your coffee table. Giving him squinted eyes, he just smiled at you.

“Are you alone right now?” He asked and that set aback for a bit. “You tryna do something funny, Lewis? Because you’re in Monaco right now and I’m at my house.” You raised your eyebrow at him, hiding how nervous you were to even suggest that to him but thankfully, he took it as a joke.

“No no, I’ve got some big news and I wanted to tell you before it gets out.” He replied, seeing how you stood up and placed your phone on your kitchen counter to prepare for this. “Okay, I’m ready. What’s up?” You clasped your hands together, not prepared to hear what came out of his mouth next.

“I’m moving to Ferrari next year.”

“You’re lying.” And all he did was smile as he saw your face drop at this news. He shook his head and that woke you to run around your apartment screaming. Running back to your phone, he was still there but just laughing his lungs out.

“Give me the details right now or else I’ll fly there. I’m not playing, Lew.”

A small smile was plastered on your face as you racked through the memories of that night and till that day, you still couldn’t believe it even though it was right in front of you. The media pen became louder and louder as you continued to mic yourself up along with connecting the mic to the camera and you immediately knew who caused the stir.

He already had such an aura surrounding him so much so that you could feel him whenever he entered the room. You were aware he arrived earlier and most likely changed but seeing the official team shirt on him was odd but fitting.

Lewis had a simple routine whenever he got to the media pen: everyone else then you because his time with you could be lengthened and he was so damn grateful that it was a Thursday because it meant even more time just walking around the paddock pretending it’s an interview when really, you guys were just spending time together.

After all the drivers had their interviews with you, laughing as they walked away because of some joke you told or happy that you asked different questions than everyone else. The man of the hour strolled over to your section with a look in his eye that gave you a shiver down your spine.

“Do not give me that look, Lewis. It’s weird seeing you in that shirt.” You said as he leaned against the barricade, maintaining eye contact with you. “I’m just taking in the red on you, it’s your colour.” He smirked at the reaction from you, the slight shock from the tone of his voice.

There was always a tad bit of tension between the two of you, feeling that twinge of a spark whenever he merely touched you. As you worked with over the years, you wanted your crush on him to diminish because that would just be unprofessional but he did not seem to care. At all. Often being spotted at various places together that he claimed were just two friends hanging out but just one look from him could have you in the clouds of days.

“Uh..huh. Wanna get these questions done or you wanna keep staring?” You asked with sass, watching him tilt his head a little and maintaining eye contact. “We can go right ahead, Y/n.” Lewis replied and you knew this was going to be a long interview.

Several questions later with a bunch of tension that you were sure the viewers would catch, you discreetly turned the camera to ask one of your infamous unserious questions that you did with every driver and you were sure this one were to get a laugh out of Lewis.

Holding the little card in front of you, you grinned with your left eye closing slightly more than the other. “It’s one of my favourite parts of any interview, unserious question time.” You said. “How unserious are we speaking here?” He asked with the slightest grin on his face just admiring you do your job.

“Only if you promise to answer it.” You said, holding out your manicured pinkie finger and Lewis hooked his with yours, solidifying the promise. “Okay okay, the whole world was shocked on how much Ferrari wanted you so much so that they literally doubled your salary.” You started.

“It’s now sitting at a hundred million a year. My question to you is who you gonna share it with and will it be me?”

“If you’re being serious, then it can be you.” He smiled and in that moment, your stomach dropped.

“Carl Davidson, I’m not playing around. Are you being for real?” You asked, lowering your voice so that no one could hear a thing.

He leaned in a bit more to whisper his next answer. “As real as you meeting me later on for dinner.” Lewis faced you then winked, walking away with your face still in shock. After standing there for what felt like forever, you felt your phone vibrate with a text from the man himself.

lew <3

you look gorgeous in red btw

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yourusername

liked by theestallion, f1wags and 43,747 others

yourusername “anything you want, princess” — lewis hamilton.

view comments

user give me your game card

user you’re eating the red wig DOWN

spinzbeatsinc oh for him to buy me a g wagon

yourusername you already have one???

user you gold digging bitch

user no ways 😭

user not you using him for his money

user think about it, what is he gonna do with so much??

fan she got the chance and she took it, i gotta respect it

user i hope this is a hard launch because i’ve been shipping these two for YEARS

user me too!!

lewishamilton just say the word 🫡

yourusername 🤭🤭🤭🤭

saint’s team radio (again) 🎀: hope you all enjoyed! again, this is like a crack fic lol. there’s so many stories that’ll be released soon i’m excited 🥹 okay bye!