#it just has to be perfect for her y’know?

[illegalpaladin]

Could I get a cute one of McSpirk visiting bones’ family and Kirk and him help Spock learn how to ride a horse? Also a bit of Spock being surprisingly charming meeting Bones’ parents?

Thank you for the prompt! I did something a little different-- I wrote AOS McSpirk this time. I had a lot of fun writing this one! I hope you like it!

“Good god, man. It's just a horse.”

Spock stands stiffly at the edge of the corral. A bay stallion is nosing lightly at his sleeve. He is doing everything he can to ignore it.

“According to my research, a horse kick can have an impact of 8,722 Newtons.”

McCoy raises an eyebrow and his frown deepens. He's standing next to a horse of his own, holding the reins in one hand. His mother is standing behind the fence, watching them, and covering a laugh with her palm.

He rolls his eyes. “Didn't you grow up with a saber tooth tiger?”

Spock looks as offended as he ever lets himself look. “I-Chaya was a Sehlat.”

“And that's less scary than a horse?”

Spock opens his mouth to argue, but he's cut off as Jim rides up on the two of them. He’s moving too quickly and too wildly– he tugs roughly on the reins and the horse skids to a stop. “Y’know, Bones, I think I see where Spock is coming from.” His horse snorts. “Horses are intelligent animals. I'm sure it's strange for Spock to see such a smart and powerful beast being used as transportation. Right Spock?”

“No,” Spock says flatly. “It is simply that horses…”

“They freak you out,” McCoy offers.

Spock sighs, but he doesn't object.

“Don't worry about it, honey.” McCoy's mom watches Spock warmly, and McCoy can tell she's already falling for his Vulcan charms. “Not everyone's got experience with horses. We've all gotta start somewhere.”

“Yeah, don't worry, Spock. It's easy.” As if to prove a point, Jim pulls hard on the reins and leads his mare in a tight circle. “I’ve only ridden a horse one other time, and I've got it down already.”

McCoy rubs his free hand over his face. “When the hell have you ridden a horse, Jim?”

Jim shrugs. “I got drunk when I was seventeen and climbed the neighbor’s fence.”

“Did– did you ride bareback? How did you even get on the damn thing?” He makes eye contact with his mom, who has an eyebrow raised curiously.

“No idea. I don't remember.” He turns his horse back to look at Spock. Spock’s horse nibbles his sleeve. “C’Mon, Spock. It's just a trail ride. You can handle it.”

McCoy sighs. He steps over to Spock, and his horse follows dutifully behind.

He points at the stirrup. “Put your left foot in there, then swing your right leg over.”

Spock looks skeptical. His horse’s ears twitch.

McCoy and Jim stare at him expectantly.

“You can do it,” McCoy hears his mom say. “As easy as riding a bike.”

Jim leans forward on his horse, resting against her neck. “Do Vulcans ride bikes?”

Spock sighs again, but this time he tentatively steps to the side of the horse. He reaches up, and his fingers brush against its dark coat before settling on the saddle. He lifts a foot, puts it in the stirrup, and hesitates.

McCoy hands the reins of his own horse to his mom and steps closer. He puts a supportive hand on Spock’s back. “Go ahead. I've got you.”

Spock raises himself up and throws his leg over the horse. McCoy’s hand drops, and Spock settles into the saddle.

“See? You're a natural. You even have the perfect posture.” McCoy's mom smiles. McCoy steps back, and within moments he's hoisted himself into place on his own ride.

“Finally!” Jim grins wildly. “Let's get going already!”

McCoy throws one look at him and frowns. He steers his horse towards him until they're side by side, and he reaches out to move Jim’s hands. “You're holding the reins wrong, you idiot.”

“Well,” McCoy’s mom grins. “Not all of us can be naturals like Spock, now, can we?”

[emmafallsinlove]

my best friend are gonna turn 22 next week & i wanna write her something but my head is empty. i have 5 words document with general idea and her name & the word “birthday present” in the title and none of them are good enough in my eyes.

[wren-kitchens]

im literally so glad depression did not take my sense of humour away because if it did I would literally just be angel from buffy and I cannot think of a fate worse than that

[celestefem]

oh, also, our boat broke down in the middle of a swamp today and we were stuck there for a few hours

[euthymiya]

“Have you ever wondered where we’ll get married?”

Your question comes out of nowhere—not much catches Sukuna off guard, but this question manages to make him pause. His eyes don’t leave the screen of his phone, thumb swiping along as he sits beside you. You drag a finger along his tattooed arm, grinning as he clicks his teeth.

“Who said I want to marry you?” He grunts.

You smile wider. It’s a knowing, amused little thing that stretches over the contours of your face like you know better. (You do. Sukuna is better at lying than telling the truth, but you’re even better at picking apart every little fib for the honesty he doesn’t want you to know. You wonder if he realizes that.)

“Who else would you marry?” You snort, “that girl from the convenience store? She has the hots for you, y’know.”

You nudge him with your shoulder, biting back a laugh when his lips curl into an almost irritated sneer as he scoffs. “She’s ugly.”

“Harsh,” you pretend to wince in sympathy, “then the waitress at that cafe? Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed her eye your tattoos.”

“Too fuckin’ whiny. Her voice makes my eardrums bleed.”

You can count on one hand the number of people Sukuna tolerates—and yes, it’s important to note that he tolerates people. He doesn’t really like anyone. He likes you, though. You’re a little confident about that because when your fingers slip under his shirt to glide against his bare chest, he lets you. He leans into it, too.

It’s because he likes you.

“Oh!” You gasp, snapping your finger like you’ve just thought of the perfect idea, “that girl from the bakery? She gives you free stuff all the time. I love it when I get to eat free bread, don’t you?”

“No. She’s a pushover. It’s pathetic.”

“We’ll never get you a wife at this rate,” you sigh dramatically, shaking your head. You look almost—almost—saddened by the idea. And then you perk up, “what about we search for a husband for me, instead? How about that guy from—”

“What the fuck are you on about?” He turns his head to glare at you. He’s annoyed—you can tell because his eyes are narrowed and his jaw is clenched. You can also tell because his heart is beating under your hand. One thump after the other. Faster, faster.

“Well I have to find someone if you won’t do it,” you pout. “I want a wedding in Okinawa. Know any guys who don’t mind getting married in Okinawa?”

“No,” he growls. His heart is still beating. Faster, faster.

“Then I’m doomed,” you collapse against the couch, theatrically draping an arm over your face as you woefully add, “my big fat Okinawa wedding dreams broken. What ever—”

“Enough,” he hisses. He grabs your hand, inspects the fingers for a moment before casually tossing it back onto your lap as he mumbles, “you can have your stupid wedding if it shuts you up. And don’t talk to that guy ever again.”

And then he’s back to scrolling through his phone, thumb gliding across the screen as you curl into his side with a satisfied grin. Sukuna doesn’t like anyone. He could make a list of all the reasons why.

It all boils down to the fact that none of them are you.

“Perfect,” you say excitedly, “we’ll get married in Okinawa, then. Here are the rings I had in mind—pay attention, okay?”

sometimes you just have to gaslight your feral bf into marriage, you know?

[gojonanami]

c/w: cuddly gojo, househusband!gojo, based on the gojo centric interview Gege did

“Are you done yet?”

“No,”

“…how about now?”

“Nope,”

“How about—“

You glance up from your stacks of paperwork, watching your husband smile up at you, lips curled in that perfect smile of his, as innocent as he was guilty of distracting you.

“Y’know asking me repeatedly if I’m done is surprisingly slowing down the process,” and he’s pouting all the same, “do you want something, Toru?”

“Want or need?” And his arms are curling around your back, “I need your attention, because my pretty wife has spent too much of her time on paperwork and not focusing on her very handsome househusband,”

“Very handsome?” And you can feel his pout grow deeper, “I’m just kidding,” you giggle, leaning into him, “my very gorgeous househusband should remember that I have to finish this paperwork tonight and once I do, I’m all his,” And he’s burying his face in the crook of your neck, “this is nice,”

“Hm?” he mumbles into your skin.

“Usually you were the one working until 4 am, but now, you get to rest and I only work until 6:00 PM, and we get to just…live,” you lean into his touch, “I never thought we’d get here,”

“Me either,” he smiles against your skin, “never thought I’d have a family either,”

“Too bad you’re stuck with me now,” and you guide his hands to your slightly rounded stomach, “and baby too,”

His gaze softens, “Do you have to wait to start your leave? Couldn’t you give all your paperwork to Ijichi or Nanami?”

“I’m not in the habit of passing my work over to other people,” you pinch his nose, before kissing it, “I’m almost done, but how about we stay like this until I finish?”

“How about we stay like this forever?” And you roll your eyes.

“Deal.”

[aeplern]

YOUR HUSBAND KÖNIG

husband!könig who grabs your hair with one hand, while the other rests on your hip as he’s fucking you from behind. letting out soft groans as he looked down at you, “you did this to yourself, shatz.” he mumbled, thrusting his cock deeper into you, your walls gripping his shaft like a suction cup, earning some groans from him.

husband!könig “couldn’t even keep your neediness under control, trying to disturb me while i was…working.” he groaned, slamming his hips against yours as you moaned loudly. “kö…’m sorry! i couldn’t help myself…” you whined.

husband!könig “no baby, keep your sorry’s. because i’m going to fuck you until you learn, you wanted it so take it!” he growled, pulling out of you for a moment to flip you onto your back as he stared down at you, “keep your eyes on me, y’hear?”

husband!könig who grabs your jaw every time you look away from him, wanting to look into your pretty eyes as he fucks you dumb. “i love you, y’know that. and you also know what happens when you interrupt me when i’m working.” he hissed, you nodded looking up at him as you weakly gripped his forearms. “i know, i’m s-sorry! i just missed you so much..”

husband!könig who can’t stay mad at his pretty girl, his perfect baby who has an adorable pout on her lips while he fucks her right. “you’re lucky you’re cute.” he smirked, leaning forward to kiss your neck, leaving a few hickeys behind.

[vampiric-tempt]

≡;- ꒰ °When they get jealous ꒱

➤ tw: slight suggestive themes

a/n: I've been really rusty with writing recently. Like really rusty, but I hope this is okay !! >:3

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Roronoa Zoro

Zoro’s brow twitched in annoyance as he heard your laughs across the deck. And not to him, but to the damn cook who swooned over your presence. 

Sanji continued to pepper your arms with kisses, giving you drinks and snacks whenever you wanted it. It was like he was crazier over you than anybody else on the ship. His partner. 

Zoro was too caught up in his thoughts, as he absent mindedly lifted his weights. 

“Zo?” You called. “Hey! Zo!” Your hands waved across his face causing him to jolt a little. 

“Y/n, hey.” Was all he said as he continued to lift his weights. 

You frowned. “Are you okay? You seem…off.”

“I’m fine.” He grunted, dropping his weights. He brushed past you and positioned himself for pushups.

You immediately knelt beside him with your lips pursed. You had a vague idea why he was acting this way and it was always for the same reason. “Y’know Sanji is just being nice.”

“Yeah.” Zoro deadpans. “Is kissing your arms nice?”

“N-no not necessarily…”

Zoro directed his eyes to the ground and started his routine. “We’re done here.” 

Not wanting to end the conversation, you persisted. “It’s just his nature Zo, y’know that. There’s no need to be jealous-”

“Jealous? Is that what you think this is?” He huffed. 

You bit the inside of your lips. “This is exactly what this is. I’m not blind.” 

Zoro halted his movements and moved to position himself in front of you. “Do you ever think to ask why I feel that way?”

“Can I ask now?” You leaned to meet his gaze. 

Zoro grumbled to himself. His hand rubbed against his neck. He didn’t know what he felt at that moment. Jealousy over Sanji, or the fluttery feeling in his stomach as you gave him that stupid look with your stupid cute eyes. “S’just I can’t provide the romance Sanji does. Sometimes I think you want that…and I can’t give it.”

A small smile reached your lips at Zoro’s vulnerability. “No, I think you’re perfect.”

The tips of Zoro’s ears reddened. “Yeah right.”

“No I’m being serious,” You scooted closer to him, hands tilting his head. “You’re my handsome boy.”

Zoro’s face flushed as he looked away, your gaze too strong. “Alright that’s enough!” He gently shoves you causing you to laugh. 

“What, I thought you liked that nickname?”

Zoro huffed. “I never said that.”

You hummed. “Are youuuu feeling any better?”

Zoro scratched the back of his head in thought and turned to you, a smirk across his face. “I will once you meet me in the bird’s nest tonight.”

Shaking your head you threw out a pinky “That’s a promise then, you dog.” 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Crocodile

Miss All Sunday was a beautiful woman. Crocodile knew that, but he didn’t like the way she had you all over her. You were soooo curious about the books she has read, why didn’t you ask him about books. He read too. 

About five more minutes, Crocodile had enough. He made his way over and hooked you toward him. “Miss All Sunday, I think you’ve had something of mine a little too long. I require my partner’s presence now.” 

Robin smiled, she knew her actions had irked the man. “My apologies, I wasn’t aware you could get so jealous of us bonding over books?” 

Crocodile tsked and left without a second to spare, dragging you along with his hook. 

“You were jealous?” You asked, a hint of amusement to your voice. 

“Hardly, I merely wanted you is all.”

“Yeahh.” You dropped the subject and allowed your lover to drag you through the long corridor till you both stopped at a pair of dark oak doors. 

His hook ushered you in and you gasped at the sight. It was a large old looking library. “Since when was this here?” You awed. 

“Since forever. I just never bothered with it. But you, my love, seem to have an interest in books.”

You smirked. “So you were jealous. It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

Crocodile rolled his eyes. “My love, if it’s books you want, I have way more than what that woman can give.” 

“And I appreciate the show of love.” Your hands dragged across the dusty books. “This actually means a lot, thank you.” 

You felt Crocodile’s hook hug your body as he dragged you toward him once again, his other hand making itself comfortable on your waist. “I can provide you way more than just books.” His tone lowered causing you to suck in your breath. 

“I know that.”

“Then why don’t I show you how much more I can provide you…perhaps in the master bedroom, my love?”

You placed a hand on his chest, the scent of his cigar blinding your senses. “I would love that actually.” 

“Then allow me.” He lifted you into his arms, making his way down the hall. You laughed excitedly and as you passed another hallway, your eyes met with Robin’s and all she gave was a wink before she left you two to your fun. 

You had to thank her later. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Trafalgar Law

He felt absolutely nothing whenever it was his crew hanging around you, but when his crew met up with the Strawhats and Kid pirates. He didn’t know what to feel when you got involved in a conversation between Zoro and the massacre soldier. Two relatively attractive men. 

Did he feel a little insecure, yes. But he wouldn’t admit that. Never in his life would he. 

It wasn’t till you two were alone in the tang, getting ready for bed did Law decide to speak up. 

“So, you seem very fond of the other crews.” 

“Oh,” You perked up at your boyfriend’s voice. “Yeah, they seem really cool.”

Law nodded at your statement. “I could see how some could be cool. Is there any that peak your interest?”

You pondered for a bit. “Um yeah, why the sudden questions Law?” 

Law shrugged. “Just curious s’all.” 

Shrugging you purse your lips in thought. “Well, I find the swordsman and massacre soldier really cool. Especially since they fought recently.”

“Yeah I saw you three talking.” Law says. 

“Yep, I was asking them about fighting tips, y’know useful things for further battles.” 

Law hummed. “I see.”

You tilted your head, eyes analyzing your lover. “Were you by any chance…jealous?” 

“Never.” Law was quick as he sat himself on his side of the bed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

You laughed. 

“Why are you laughing, there’s nothing funny.” Law said defensively.

“Oh I knowww it’s just, you can be so cute sometimes.”

Law gave a look of embarrassment, eyes flickering between you and the wall. “C-cute??” I’m not cute.”

“Okay okay,” You scooted beside him. “You’re handsome.” 

Law smiled, leaning into your touch. “As you are, Y/n-ya.” He moved in for a kiss, a kiss you happily accepted. Your hands entangled in his as he moved over your body, arms on either side of your head. 

Law pulled away from the kiss with a smirk. “You do a lot of things to me Y/n-ya.”

“Like what?”

“Make me realize I’m the luckiest man alive. I never thought I’d be able to find love till I found you.”

You pulled Law in for a chaste kiss. “If making you jealous makes you this romantic, I would’ve done it sooner.”

“Don’t dream of it.” Law pinches your cheek and settles beside you. “If I were actually jealous I’d do a lot more than just be romantic, you know that.” 

“Ohhh I know.”

[babyleostuff]

― BROKEN CAMERAS

𝜗𝜚 THEME: fluff, domestic vibes, absolutely whipped kim mingyu 𝜗𝜚 PAIRING: dad!mingyu x mom!reader 𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT: 1.2k

⦗💌 ⦘in which your little girl wants to take a picture of you and mingyu but drops the camera she stole from him in the process

„i was thinking,” mingyu murmured into your hair and turned the volume of the tv down, „that we could go to the farmer’s market tomorrow. since i don’t have any schedules, y’know.” 

you peeled your eyes from the screen and looked up at your husband from where your head was resting on his chest and nodded immediately, as if you’d ever say no to a day out with him and your daughter. „sounds perfect,” you sighed happily and fixed the blanket that mingyu wrapped you in some time ago. „maybe we’ll manage to find some vintage frames to match those in the living room.” 

he hummed and brushed his nose against your cheek. „just… this time we have to avoid the section where they keep the plushies.” 

ah yes, the plushies. 

your little girl’s current hyperfixation and your husband’s cause of nightmares. not that you minded, there was something endearing in a 6 foot something man sitting in a circle of bears and unicorns drinking tea from a miniature teacup. 

you smirked and lifted your head. „but she’ll be devastated, honey,” you fake-pouted.

she wouldn’t though, not really. your little girl has had her dad wrapped around her little finger since day one and she was a very smart kid, so figuring out how to get her dad to do anything for her wasn’t that difficult. she’s had the puppy-eyes technique figured out for a long time now, which… she used a lot to her advantage. 

mingyu groaned and lowered his head, bumping it against your shoulder. „there’s literally no room left in her bedroom. last night, when i was kissing her goodnight, i tripped over at least three of them!” he whined.  

that was very much true. you spent fifteen minutes this morning trying to find one of her shoes amongst the mess of unicorns of all shapes and sizes, and all you found in the end was a sock that you had been looking for for the past month. it didn’t help that soonyoug bought her tiger plushies every other week, not to mention seungcheol who loved spending his money on your daughter for some reason. 

but you couldn't help but throw your head back and laugh at your husband wholeheartedly. „gyu, you’re capable of tripping over air, it doesn’t count in your case,” you giggled and ran your fingers through his messy hair, pushing back the few curly strands that fell over his eyes. “besides, she’ll find a way to get those plushies either way. it’s not like you’ll ever say no to her.”  

you could feel your husband’s pouty lips against your collarbone as he said, “you’re right. but it’s unfair that mr.unicorn gets all the cuddles now. even that ugly monkey that looks like it had been through a car crash and a bad lip injection is more loved than i am.” 

heavens, sometimes you wondered who the real baby in your family was. 

“gyu, listen to me,” you took his face in your hands and peeled him away from you, “stop overreacting-,”. 

“but what if she’s all grown up now and won’t-,”. 

“she’s three, kim mingyu. besides, she loves you, you dumbass,” you ran your thumb over his cheek, though that didn’t seem to convince him. “she’s a daddy’s girl, okay? trust me, i am the one who should be complaining about the lack of cuddles,” you said and smoothed the crease between his brows.

“if you say so,” he sighed, and nuzzled his cheek into your hand. “but-,”. 

suddenly, out of nowhere, you heard a loud bang behind you, like something fell and... glass broke? mingyu being mingyu, almost fell off the couch, but you were quick to turn around to inspect where the sound came from. 

and your heart almost broke when you saw what, or rather who, was standing behind the couch.

"oh, honey," you cooed.

your little girl was standing in the middle of the room, clad in her pink nightgown mingyu had bought her on one of his trips abroad, only instead of the bright smile that always graced her face, there were tears in her gorgeous, brown eyes.

"what the?" your husband murmured next to you. “is that my camera?” 

your daughter’s eyes widened in panic as she looked at him. “‘m sorry, daddy,” her voice wobbled in the most heartbreaking way possible. the little girl’s tiny hands were clutching onto the neck strap that was supposed to be connected to the camera. “didn’ mean,” she sniffled, “to break it,” she said and the first tears started rolling down her puffy cheeks. 

you quickly untangled your limbs from the blanket but before you could get up, mingyu put his hand on your thigh. “no, no, no,” he almost tripped from how fast he got up from the couch. “it wasn’t your fault, princess.” 

you thanked whatever grace that your daughter was smart enough not to move because the floor around her was litreed in small glass shards and you weren’t sure what you and mingyu would do if anything happened to her. 

not even a second later, he was at her side, picking up her small body and engulfing her in his big arms. 

“don’ be angry, daddy,” your baby cried into mingyu's shoulder and wrapped her arms around his neck. 

mingyu shook his head and turned around to face you with a heartbreakingly sad expression. “i’m not angry, baby. i was just scared,” he murmured. “daddy thought you hurt yourself.” 

you waved for them to come over to where you were sitting and muttered a quiet “come here”.  

your husband placed your daughter on his lap, her head pressed against his chest, on the same spot where yours was just a minute ago. her tiny fists were pressed against his naked tummy as she continued to sniffle quietly. 

wiping every tear that escaped her eyes you started to hum one of the lullababies mingyu used to sing to her when she was a newborn, something you still did when she was upset. your husband was stroking her hair the whole time, rocking her back and forth, as you continued to hum quietly.

“why did you take my camera, sweetheart?” mingyu asked after a while, when her breathing calmed down a bit. 

“i woke up,” she said, looking up at him with her big brown eyes. “and i saw you n’ mommy sittin’ and i wan’ to take picture. like you always take of me n’ mommy.” 

mingyu’s own eyes welled up with tears and he quickly tucked her head back to his chest so she wouldn’t see him upset. 

“oh, baby,” you whispered quietly, though you weren’t sure who needed more comforting at that point. “that’s so sweet, but next time ask me or daddy for help, okay? you could’ve seriously injured yourself.” 

your baby girl nodded and she scrambled off mingyu’s lap to throw herself in your embrace instead. well, it was nice to know that the unicorns and your husband hadn’t replaced you completely yet.  

“what do you say we go and grab a camera together, hm?” he asked. “and we can do a whole photoshoot, we can even make a white background with the sheets.” 

“pink. pink sheets,” she said and clapped her hands. it seemed that you and mingyu breathed a sigh of relief that your daughter was back to her normal, bubbly self.  

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[artinvain]

I tried to fight it but dealer!abby is just too delicious

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

abby never sends one of her guys when you text her. she always shows up, always. loves letting to take free hits of her dab pen, loves seeing your eyes shut softly and the way they glaze over.

she can tell you want her. every time she’s over — you’re in your skimpiest pjyamas, your nipples poke through your shirt, getting harder every time she leans in close.

when you text her to “hang out” she diverts all her deliveries to someone else for the day, so she can come over and pretend she has nothing better to do than smoke and watch your favourite show.

the first time she makes a move, your legs are on her lap, her hands stroking your thighs and getting higher each time. until she’s dangerously close to just cupping your pussy. when she looks over, you’re already staring at her, your bottom lip between your teeth.

she has to kiss you, can’t help but lean in and nose your cheek, kiss the side of your mouth — giving you a chance to back away, but when you cup the back of her neck she’s groaning into the kiss, shoving her tongue in your mouth.

she leaves it at making out for a while, leaving before things get too hot and heavy, until one night you ask her why she’s leaving.

“don’t wanna make you uncomfortable,” she replies sheepishly, even though a few days ago she was practically humping you while you made out. you giggle and pull her back down on the couch, straddling her and laying soft kisses from her lips to her jaw to her lobe. “I need you, abby,”

she’s fucking feral, takes like two hours for her to even eat you out because she’s so focused on touching you, studying what places make you twitch, giggle and moan. she’s playing with your tits and groaning as she lavishes your chest, enjoying when you tug at her braid.

she eats you through your panties first, already you’re lightheaded and the teasing makes your sight fuzzy, your eyes crossing at the friction of the lace on your clit. the feeling of her tongue desperately lapping at you.

when she finally feels you around her fingers, wet soft walls squeezing and tightening around her, she can’t help but run her fucking mouth.

“fuck, you have such a pretty pussy y’know that?” as she licks and kisses your clit.

“fucking this perfect cunt’s all I can think about for days until I see you again, need it all the time, want you to sit on my face for hours,”

“yeah I know this slutty pussy can take more of my fingers, come on — open up for me baby,”

“fuck she’s clenching for me,” as she spreads your lips open and watches your pussy leak, teasing the both of you until she finally lets her tongue fuck you.

“you’re a fuckin whore you know that? calling me up cause your pussy’s so desperate to be filled. you love my fingers huh?”

“take it baby, nice n deep — yeah keep going, cum for me,” because she’s got three fingers stretching you out and pressing on your gspot. and she doesn’t plan on stopping even after you’ve cum

@lesbian-useless @sexysapphicshopowner @iamaboringrattat @sapphicsgirl @bimboprincezz

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

(Dark!) BNHA: Toxic Relationship

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female Reader

Boys -> Hawks + Bakugo + Dabi + Deku

Reaction: Moments from your toxic relationship with your Pro-Hero boyfriend.

WARNINGS: Toxic Relationship; Abuse; Manipulation; Non-con.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

Let me know if you like this reaction format or what 🙂

–

Hawks

“Y/n is a real clutz, y’know. Can’t even walk on even ground without tripping over her own feet.”

Your cheeks flame with humiliation as the camera pans to the crowd that laughs heartily at the demeaning words, as if Keigo had dropped the funniest joke they’ve ever heard. 

“That’s adorable.” the woman laughs, “Maybe it has something to do with the fact that she has no quirk? I believe you said she is quirkless, right?”

Keigo chuckles, nodding as he crosses an ankle over his knee.

“She sure is. Can’t even imagine what type of quirk she’d have, she’s just not the type.”

Your hand grips the remote tighter. What does he mean by that? Does he think you’re not good enough to have a quirk?

You consider turning off the TV, but fortunately the interviewer changes the subject. They casually speak about the current stance of heroes and their struggles on fighting off criminals and villains.

Keigo is charming as usual, delivering answers that are a perfect portrait of responsibility with a sprinkle of humor. He’s good like that, even though his previous answers left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Somehow, they end up reaching the topic of hobbies and free time. 

“Going Pro Hero leaves little time for myself, so sadly I don’t really have much time for hobbies. Wish I had.” he says humbly. “My girlfriend has lots of them, though.”

You inhale sharply. Not again. 

For your misfortune, the woman gets interested.

Perhaps because it’s an exclusive interview and her network channel gave her orders to squeeze every drop of information they can get on Hawks’ personal life. 

“What type of hobbies? She looks like she’s a great cook.” she tries to guess, but Keigo bursts laughing, holding his belly in an exaggerated mannerism. 

“Nah, cooking isn’t really her department. Burned eggs and half-cooked pancakes are more her style. She doesn’t even-”

You change channels in a heartbeat, bursting in tears at the low insults.

You’re not that bad. Sure, you’re not amazing at cooking, but never once did Keigo complain when he eats the food you diligently make after he returns from patrols. 

And now he slanders you on national television? 

And the worst part? It’s not even the first time he’s done this. 

Dabi

“There’s nothing to eat in the fridge.” 

“There is.” 

“There isn’t.” 

You stop writing your notes, swallowing back an annoyed sigh, already aware of what was happening.

“There is food in the fridge.” you repeat, “You just have to cook it.”

Dabi looks at you, unimpressed. 

“No shit Sherlock. Maybe you can do it for me.” 

“You serious?” 

Meeting his arrogant smirk, you huff. 

“Dead serious, babe. Not like you’re busy anyways.”

Your mouth drops at his audacity and you open your arms to indicate the mess of books, papers and pens in front of you. 

“I’m studying, Dabi. Can’t you see that? Grow up and cook for yourself, yeah?” you snap your attention back to your books, but your mood has already turned sour. 

You pretend to scribble down a few words when Dabi walks to you slowly. He peeks into your annotations, snorting. 

“That handwriting is kinda shitty.” he mocks you. “Besides, what exactly are you even studying for? You’re not exactly cut out to be a doctor, y’know? Not enough brain cells in you to become that.” 

You glare at him, angrily swatting away the hand that condescendingly tries to pet your hair. 

“You’re such an asshole, Dabi. Maybe if your life revolved around something other than your stupid daddy’s issues, you would actually get a job. Not like Endeavour is worried sick about you, not when he’s got Shoto.” you spit the words venously.

Not the nicest words, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to bother. 

A dark shade crosses Dabi’s face, his amused expression turning colder. You’d be lying if the sight didn’t ignite some fear in you.

“Is that so?” his crooked smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “And why would I need a job - or Endeavour, by that matter - when I have you?”

His hand reaches for your shoulder and there’s an edge in his eyes that immobilizes you. You shouldn’t have mentioned Endeavour. 

“I’m not with you because of that bitchy attitude, you know. I like my girl to know who’s in charge. Respect is really important in a relationship and your behavior is making me really upset, baby.” his tone is scaringly soft, and his hand travels to your neck.

You hold your breath when the staples on his hand scratch against the delicate skin of your throat. “So, if you need me to remind you of your place, I’ll gladly help you with that.”

His fingers heat up at a low temperature, not enough to actually burn you but it doesn’t stop the lonely tear that slides from your eye, the only sign of the chilling terror you’re feeling.

He leans forward, kissing your forehead before sliding his hand away. 

“Are we understood?” 

The nod you give him is shaky at best, but Dabi smiles nonetheless. 

“Now, how about that food you’re gonna make me?”

Bakugo

“I have to wake up early tomorrow.”

Besides a low hum, Bakugo doesn’t acknowledge you much, too busy French kissing your neck.

His hands head for your ass, provoking a wince in you when he gropes it with unnecessary strength, your left ass cheek being kneaded like it’s dough.

Katsuki uses his grip on your ass to push your hips forward even as you complain again. The thin fabric of his sweatpants does nothing to hide the hardness that shamelessly rubs against your thigh. 

“Katsuki.” 

Once again he gives no sign of hearing you, rolling his hips with more urgency and you barely catch the tired groan that almost rolls away from you.

The clock on your side reminds you that despite the early hour, you’ll only have 6 hours to sleep. 

You really have to sleep and if you’re being honest, tonight you’re not feeling sexy or horny enough to sleep with your boyfriend. 

But that doesn’t make you feel any less awkward when Bakugo’s movements turn more vigorous and needy, humping your naked thigh as if he’s fucking it while you remain as alive as a statue. 

“Fuck, this isn’t enough.” he growls against your skin, and your heart skips a beat when his hands reach for your shorts, tugging them down halfway until you panickedly grab his wrist, wiggling your body away from his.

“Seriously, Kats, I’m not in the mood tonight.” you say, quickly pulling back your shorts. 

“You fuckin’ serious right now?” he growls through gritted teeth, still hovering above you. 

Crossing your arms over your chest, you timidly nod. 

“Maybe we can do this tomorrow? It’s just that-”

“Yeah, whatever. Not like you haven’t used that stupid excuse on me before.”  

Your eyebrows raise with surprise at the bitter tone on his voice as he gruffs, pushing himself off you. 

“I’m not making up excuses.”

“The hell you aren’t.” he looks at you, angry. “Every time I try to start something, you turn into a damn nun. Always too freakin’ tired,  too busy or not in the mood.”

He scowls, spiky blonde hair falling to his eyes. 

“All you have to do is open your goddamn legs and let me do the rest, and you can’t even do that.”

His words hit a sore spot and he turns his back on you, settling on the distant side of the bed after delivering strained punches to the pillow to soften it up.

“Maybe I go after those Dynamite's groupies that are always throwing themselves at me. Since you never want to fuck anymore.”

You’re left too stunned to speak, sadness blossoming at the cruel meaning of his words and it’s a struggle to swallow the tears. 

He wouldn’t really, would he? But your mind lingers on the disturbing thought. He’s popular with girls, even with his angry mood.

Bakugo is tall, muscular and not even the ever present scowl in his face is able to contradict the attractive facial features he’s been blessed with. Meanwhile you’re just mediocre, if even that...

Your insecurities strike back, taunting you. 

Your hand reaches for his arm before you even realize it, and you’re mildly surprised when he doesn’t shake you off. 

“The hell you want now?”

Pulling on his arm until he finally turns to the side, you kiss him. 

He groans against your lips, allowing your hand to rest on the warm plane of his chest and you let it slide lower until it touches his clothed member. 

Neither of you speak a word, but you feel Bakugo smirking against your lips while he practically shoves your shorts down. 

You allow yourself go limp underneath him, letting your boyfriend fuck you in the way he wants to. Holding back a tired sigh when the fluorescent numbers on the clock mock you. 

You really have to wake up early.

Deku

“Are you serious, Izuku?” 

The tall hero jumps, eyes widening almost comically when he realizes you’re standing on the bedroom’s doorway and not cleaning the kitchen, like he clearly assumed you to be. 

“I wasn’t- The phone-” he stammers with his words, plowing your phone onto the bed with a bit too much force.

Crossing your arms, you flash him a frustrated glare.

“You promised me you wouldn’t spy on my phone anymore, Izuku.” your stern tone has him frowning and Izuku practically sprints closer to you.

“I wasn’t spying! I was just- just checking the time.” his words aren’t convincing enough for you to actually believe in him. 

You squint your eyes at him, dodging his grabby hands with a nasty slap, despite the hurt expression on his face.

“Izuku.” 

“I wasn’t! C’mon, you gotta believe in me.” 

You don’t. 

“Even if I did go through your phone - which I didn’t - why would that be such a problem?” he complains, dragging his voice. “Do you have something to hide or what?”

You point a warning finger at him.

“Don’t you dare. This isn’t about me. You’re the one who went behind my back because you’re just too insecure to fully trust me.”

He shakes his head, emerald eyes turning feverish. 

“You’re being dramatic, of course I trust you.”

“You don’t, stop lying.”

“I do trust you!” his voice rises in volume.

“No, you don’t!” you scream, voice breaking before you crumble in tears. 

You’re exhausted. Of arguing, of dealing with Izuku, of everything. When did things turn so frustrating, so tiring? Why does he always have to ruin things for you?

Izuku curses under his breath before rushing to you, engulfing you in a comforting embrace as you cry on his chest. 

“You don’t. You never will and I know that.” he stays silent, not contradicting you this time. 

He lets you cry on his chest, his hand gently caressing your hair as he mutters apologies. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” Izuku hugs you harder, arms tightening around you. “I’ll do better, okay? I promise, I will.” 

And like a fool, you accept his promise - even if you know it’s meant to be broken.

[gigi-loveless]

summary - dom!ellie x dom!reader, no plot, they’re literally fighting for dominance

warnings - all consensual! slapping, choking, wrestling, degrading

authors note - i’m so sorry this is filthy as fuck i need to go bathe in holy water, as always requests are open 🪽✨

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“make me.”

and oh how that instant regret hit as soon as your tattooed girlfriend slammed you up against the wall, photos trembling against the plaster as she wastes no time thrusting her tongue into your mouth.

how sloppy and disheveled you both already are, her grinning against your lips as you desperately flail your wrists away from where she has them pinned against the wall. so you use the one thing you know makes ellie soft.

“such a good girl….”

trailing your sentence off, ellie loosens her grip on you, sighing breathlessly. quickly, you take this perfect opportunity to escape her clutch, and yank at that perfect auburn hair of hers, bringing her gaze to you.

“you’re mine tonight, angel.”

she leers, as your confidence flounders.

“yeah? make me.”

all of the sudden, she throws you onto the bed, straddling your waist and restraining your wrists above your head with her muscular arm.

“can’t help it baby…y’jus look so pretty like this…” ellie coos, swiping her calloused finger under your chin as she latches her warm mouth to one of your pebbled nipples. lip quivering, you scan the room to find anything to free you from her grasp. it’s starting to seem like you have one option left - fight.

using all your strength, you manage to push ellie off you, as she gasps and laughs in surprise.

“ohhhh, that’s what you want, hm?” she chuckles, wiping her mouth as you pant, noticing the damp patch pooling in your panties.

suddenly she lunges at you, attempting to wrestle your way back into submission. as your thigh grazes her core though, she stops for a moment, allowing you to grab her by her throat. the poor things clawing at you, panting for your touch. just as you’re about to reward her pretty pussy…

ellie harshly strikes you across the cheek.

you touch the heated area, breathlessly soothing it down.

“oh, i’m-i’m sorry if that was too far, we can-uhm-we can stop if y-“

“strip.”

the girl silently obeys you, eyeing as you peel your clothing off as well. she settles back on the bed, awaiting your instruction.

quickly, you throw her leg over your shoulder, and guide her hand to your throat yet again. your hand also finds solace at her throat, both of you squeezing lightly.

the squelching of your heated clits kneading together is downright sinful, your wetness blending together, dripping all down your thighs. looking up at ellie, her pretty eyes rolled into the back of her head, you can’t help but gush even more at the sight. how fucked out she already looks, small red marks appearing on her pale neck around the perimeter of your fingers.

“you’re a fuckin whore.” she spits, smirking proudly to herself. “look at yourself…all dripping because i fuckin hit you…”

“y’know how fucked up that is? that you’re so soaked from that? you really are a slut aren’t you….” she ponders, scanning your eyes for an answer.

“c-could say the same about you….” you sigh, pleasure buzzing through your veins.

“m’…..m’s close….” she gurgles, as you tighten the grip on her neck, pressing the tempo of your strokes impossibly faster, her clit throbbing against yours.

with one final stroke, your high comes as well, band snapping in your stomach. the last you feel before blacking out being ellie’s tender touch guiding you to the pillow.

“so how the fuck are we supposed to pick who does aftercare?”

“uhhh….” she starts giggling. “rock paper scissor?”

“it’s rock paper scissors el….oh jesus you little freak!”

join my taglist!

@ellies2missingfingers @ellieslob

[theyluvkarolina]

౨ৎ AS IT WAS ౨ৎ

masterlist / rules / requests & talks with me!

SUMMARY౨ৎ Being in Formula One has never been easy for Logan since he joined. At first, it was a childhood dream but now, his childhood dream is slipping away into a nightmare. The constant criticism, mistreatment by his team, being ignored by others, is especially getting into his head. But you are here to help him through these tough times…by less acceptable ways than others. Safe to say to not mess with his very overprotective girlfriend because something you say against him, might be the last..

PAIRING ౨ৎ Logan Sargeant x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS ౨ৎ reader is very overprotective of logan (and by that, i mean she goes after anyone that doesn’t give constructive criticism),

A/N ౨ৎ ugh i love logan sm and i hate what’s happening to him :( i really hope that if kimi antonelli ever joins now that the age has been lowered again, that they don’t rush him like what they did to logan. There wasn’t any specific way to do this fic so i did my personal spin on it.

1K EVENT MASTERLIST

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y/n_l/n

y/n_l/n posted a story 10 minutes ago!

[story 1: aussie aussie aussie!! oi oi oi!!] [story 2: finally landed 😵‍💫]

100 others have replied!

View Replies…

username22 mom is on her way to support dad 😋 !

y/n_l/n yes i am!!

username23 MELBOURNE!! CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU IN THE PADDOCK 🥹🥹

y/n_l/n AHHHH ME TOO LOVELY!!

username24 say hello to logan for us, let him know that people definitely care about him and how amazing he is ❤️

y/n_l/n omg 🥹🥹 i’ll spread the word! he’ll be so happy 🩷

username25 logan sucks ass as a driver

y/n_l/n y’know what else sucked? your mom on my dick last night

TWITTER [Click on the photos!! they are cut weirdly to fit :(]

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y/n_l/n

liked by logansargeant, olliebearman, lilymunihe and others

y/n_l/n Look at my Logie Bear and think about what you did @ williamsracing & @ alexalbon .

tagged ; logansargeant

2,491 comments

williamsracing ✔︎ don’t blame admin for this… 😓😓

→ username1 FREE WILLIAMS ADMIN!!

username2 HELP THE FISH PHOTO 😭😭

→ username3 bro is too american → username4 @ username he is THE florida man → y/n_l/n listen, he was very proud of his fish that he caught.

logansargeant ✔︎ did you really have to choose those photos of me 😞

→ y/n_l/n i did you look like a cutie :( → logansargeant ✔︎ 🥲

alexalbon ✔︎ WHAT DID I DO??

→ y/n_l/n steal his car. → alexalbon ✔︎ I DIDN’T HAVE A CHOICE IT WAS A TEAM DECISION 😭 → alexalbon ✔︎ I SAID I SORRY MULTIPLE TIMES TOO → y/n_l/n ✔︎ WELL BE MORE SORRY. I EXPECT A PARAGRAPH APOLOGY TO HIM → username5 i seriously need someone that loves me as much as y/n loves and defends logan. → alexalbon ✔︎dear y/n and logan, I want to offer my sincerest apology for stealing logan’s car. It was a team decision I was forced into without my consent. it was never my intention to take your car. I hope we can still be besties. - Alexander Albon → username6 ALEXANDER IS WILD 😭

username7 photos 4-6 just being of him and y/n 🥹

username8 they are so in love 🤭

→ y/n_l/n you bet your ass in in love with this american boy.

TWITTER

IMESSAGES

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y/n_l/n

liked by lilyzneimer, oscarpiastri, logansargeant

y/n_l/n rest and relaxation after the race where logan gets all the love he deserves :) (thanks for the photos lily and oscar 🫶)

p.s good job alex… ig 😒

tagged ; logansargeant, oscarpiastri, lilyzneimer

2,109 comments

username9 TANGLED IS SUCH A PERFECT FILM TO WATCH WHAT

→ oscarpiastri ✔︎ don’t let the photos fool you, tied us down and made us watch it → lilyzneimer no we didn’t stop spreading lies :( → y/n_l/n stop making accusations.

username10 THANKS FOR THE LOGAN PHOTOS Y/N 🤭

→ y/n_l/n always ready to feed my children logan photos 🥴 → username11 oh, we ARE getting fed

oscrapiastri thanks for giving credit where credit is due 👍

username12 her caring for him after what williams did to him and logan not racing is what i needed.

username26 imagine supporting a driver that can’t even finish above 10th in racing

→ y/n_l/n blud just found about about logan and doesn’t know about his f2 an f3 wins

username27 this is why logan hasn’t won anything 😂 his gf constantly babies him

→ y/n_l/n babies? I just show more love than your gf would show your pathetic ass?

username28 i’m sorry that logan has to deal with this woman

→ y/n_l/n i’m sorry your mom doesn’t love you

IMESSAGES

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logansargeant ✔︎

liked by logansargeant, alexalbon, arthurleclerc and others

logansargeant I love my girlfriend :)

tagged ; y/n_l/n

3,210 comments

y/n_l/n AWE LOGAN :(

y/n_l/n i love you so so so much sweet boy ❤️

→ username12 the complete 180 she does when talking to others compared to logan 😭 → y/n_l/n @ username12 is there a problem with that?? 🤨 → username13 @ y/n_l/n no ma’am.

alexalbon ✔︎ your gf is scary as shit

→ logansargeant ✔︎ what do you mean → alexalbon ✔︎ @ logansargeant mate, when i took your car she texted me a 54 sentence paragraph on how she will cut my dick off and HOW. → georgerussell63 ✔︎ … @ alexalbon remind me to never talk to her when i see her. → username ✔︎ GEORGE 😭😭 → landonorris ✔︎ @ y/n_l/n don't cut off the weenies :( → username14 ✔︎ @ landonorris WEENIES 💀 → y/n_l/n @ landonorris can’t make any promises 😆 → alexalbon ✔︎ @ logansargeant SEE SHE’S MENTAL → y/n_l/n @ alexalbon mentally fantasizing about my amazingly cute boyfriend? yes!! → y/n_l/n i still don’t forgive you alexander. → alexalbon ✔︎ @ y/n_l/n the full name too?? → lilymunihe ✔︎ you heard the lady alexander albon → alexalbon ✔︎ @ lilymunihe WHAT DID I DO TO GET TAG TEAMED?? BY MY OWN GIRLFRIEND TOO?? → y/n_l/n @ alexalbon i can list a lot of things!! → alexalbon ✔︎ @ y/n_l/n oh god.

y/n_l/n has posted a story with logansargeant 5 minutes ago!

[story 1: omw to jpn!!] [story2: logan snoozing 💤 ] [story3: 🩷 🇯🇵 ]

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liked by logansargeant, carmenmundt, georgerussell63 and others

y/n_l/n MY FAVORTIE AMERICNA SID IT OML IM SO HPAPY IM CYRING TAKE THIS ALEXANDER HAMILTON

tagged ; logansargeant

3,645 comments

username15 ALEXANDER HAMILTON 😭

username16 the fact logan only got 17th and she’s celebrating like he got P1 is so cute

→ y/n_l/n he’s always p1 in my heart no matter what ❤️ → logansargeant @ y/n_l/n babe 🥹 → landonorris @ logansargeant enough flirting i might hurl → y/n_l/n @ landonorris bro’s upset that he’s single → landonorris @ y/n_l/n WHAT NO IM NOT → y/n_l/n @ landonorris starge 1: denial

username17 USA USA USA 🇺🇸 🗣️ 🔥

username18 WTF IS A KILOMETER !?!?!?

→ logansargeant 1,000 meters or 0.62 miles :) → alexalbon @ logansargeant that’s my american. → y/n_l/n @ alexalbon get in line alexander, that’s my boyfriend. → alexalbon @ y/n_l/n STOP CALLING ME ALEXANDER I DON’T LIKE IT. → y/n_l/n @ alexalbon WOMP WOMP LOGAN'S BETTER 😒 → lilymunihe @ alexalbon okay alexander hamilton → alexalbon @ lilymunihe oh god not you too…

username19 the misspellings 😭 😭

username20 she’s happy that logan is happy… and that’s all that matters.

username21 i love it when people are in love

*♥︎ by Author!*

[chriscamopants]

Pulling on pigtails // beard Matt

Warnings: smut tehee / beard kink (is this even a thing?? lol) / cunnilingus / ‘good girl’ + ‘little girl’ / thigh kink / hair pulling / soft dom x sub fem reader / seated scissors / praise kink / spit kink / cream pie / hair pulling if you squint

Summary: you and Matt didn’t like each other at all when you were younger. In fact, you hated each other. Or so you thought. Y’know that one saying? That if a boy pulls on a girl’s pigtails it means he secretly likes her? Well… in Matt’s case that was certainly true, it just took him a little bit of growing up to realise.

“Sometime ‘round eighth grade, remember our bodies were changing, you looked at me different…” - Ant Pile, Dominic Fike

•First grade•

You’re playing in the sandpit, just minding your own business by piling hoards of grit into the little bucket you have resting at your side. You intend to make a sandcastle, one of the best sandcastles you’ve ever made.

You stick your tongue out in concentration, your summer dress fit for the sunshine as it adorns your little body. Your sunhat is nestled on top of your head to shield you from the harsh rays that beam down from the sky whilst you busy away with playing by yourself. Packing in the sand tightly and then turning it with expert precision, your small chubby arms lift the mould carefully before you smile widely at the vision of the perfect sculpture placed before you. Well, as perfect as a sculpture of something can be to a 6 year old…

You have your back turned to your surroundings as you marvel at your creation. A mistake. Because, after you place the bucket back to the floor, someone else’s hand grabs a firm hold of one of your pigtails, yanking it backwards. You squeak as you fall onto your behind, covering the dress printed with sweet little strawberries in a myriad of sand before you twist your head at the sound of a childishly mean laugh.

‘Ouch? What was that for?’ Your voice wobbles, your glassy eyes looking at a young Matt who stands and crosses his arms in gleeful cruelty behind you, his dungarees still a little big for him and the slivers of a Spider-Man t-shirt peaking out from under the covers of his denim. He ignores you as he boyishly smirks, his dark blond hair straight and his mouth opening to bully you even further.

‘Ha! You loser. What ya doin’ building sandcastles?’ He jeers as he steps into the sandpit, his new pair of unlaced converse already scuffed up because of the amount of games of tag he’s played with his friends this morning. Suddenly, and to your utter dismay, he doesn’t give you enough time to retort back your upset before he is raising one of his legs and kicking it outwards. It barrels straight into your perfect sandcastle.

‘Building sandcastles is for babies. Babies like you!’ He ridicules as he stomps his foot into the sandcastle that you had just poured your entire heart and soul into creating not even moments ago.

Your fragile eyes well up with tears that drip from your waterline after Matt finishes crushing your craft. ‘That wasn’t very nice…’ you peep with an unmistakable frown on your face and your voice already raggedy with sobs. Matt’s beady blue eyes look at you once more, before he screws his face up and observes the way you cry, still in the position from when he had first snuck up to you and pulled on your hair teasingly.

‘Aww what’s wrong… you gonna cry?’ He feigns a pout as your nose begins to run.

Your little self feels so embarrassed that you’re crying in front of a boy, no less crying in front of Matt. He’s so mean to you. He picks on you all the time. You get no peace from him, you just wish he’d leave you alone, you liked being alone.

Pulling the stuffed animal you take everywhere you go from the floor, you hug it delicately into your chest as Matt jeers a chanting ‘Crybaby! Crybaby! Crybaby!’ Continuously whilst leaping around and pointing at you. You look to the ground shamefully, before you can’t take much more of his abuse. You don’t want to attract any more attention, not even from the parents that all flock together just yards away, huddled around the neighbourhood barbecue. And you certainly don’t want Matt causing you even more grief by calling you a snitch.

So instead, a simple whine is peeped from your throat as Matt steps back out of the sandbox, but not before playing with you once again by knocking off the little flowery bucket hat that had been fixed onto your head. You swipe it back up and dust it off angrily as he giggles and skitters off to go and play another game of hide and go seek with all of the other kids on the neighbourhood block. He turns back around once more to rudely stick his tongue out at you before leaving you all by yourself, now to wallow in your own sadness as you slump next to the destroyed sandcastle.

You just can’t help yourself as your nerve snaps, and as Matt runs away in his baggy dungarees, you squeal a high pitched and defiant ‘Maaaattt!!!’ To emphasises your anger, before huffing and petulantly crossing your arms, your head still kind of emanating a dull ache from where he had pulled your hair earlier.

Like you said, you just wished that annoying boy would leave you alone.

•Now•

‘Matt…’ you moan as he drops your thighs from the fleshy grip of his hands. You fall to your bed.

Within the soft lighting, his beard looks even darker and more prominent as he gazes at you with hungry eyes. Your heart beats down at your clit at wanting his tongue on you as soon as possible.

You and Matt are slightly older now.

At the roaring age of 20, you had bumped into him in your local grocery store after not seeing him for years. You see, you and him had gone to different high schools when you were younger, and sure, you had seen him around your neighbourhood a couple of times before, but it had never been enough to form a proper conversation with him.

Both of you had clearly been shocked at how much your appearances had changed as adults. You found it quite funny really, that the boy from your old neighbourhood block who used to crumple up balls of paper and chuck them at your head childishly, now had himself a beard.

Matt had been too stunned to speak.

Now being the mature young man that he was, he really didn’t expect to see an age old crush of his standing before him and looking just as pretty, if not prettier than she had when in her youth.

In the grocery store, he remembered smiling fondly at you as you both stood in the bread section, before reaching out one of his hands to jokingly tug on one of the pigtails. ‘Still wear around your pigtails huh?’ He had mumbled, a wave of nostalgia hitting the both of you as you looked at each other curiously. You blushed, embarrassed that the day you had decided to plait your hair into pigtails was the day that you would bump into what you considered to be your childhood bully. Typical.

Although, Matt saw you as something completely different at the time - unbeknownst to you.

You had shrugged and smiled sheepishly, replying with a ‘you’ve got a beard now…’ as you pointed towards the dark hair holding up his cheekbones sharply. Matt had softly chuckled and gently dropped his eyes to check you out. ‘Yeah I guess I do’.

As you chatted a little more, both of you decided to stick with each other for the rest of the duration of your grocery trips to catch up. Matt had even walked you out of the store and into the small parking lot. After he had put his groceries away into his car, shutting the trunk and locking it back up again, he felt the need to talk to you further and so shyly asked you out to dinner- which obviously you agreed to.

It was nice to see how much Matt had changed and really grown up, it was refreshing almost. However, that dinner date didn’t end at all like how you expected it would… because to end the evening, Matt had spent the entire night apologetically fucking his cock up into you on your couch, both of your faces sweaty and blushed, soaking in the obvious attraction you had felt towards one another. His hands had tightly intertwined with yours as he pinned them above your head and his mouth had been so close to yours the whole entire time. You remember him releasing whimpering pants against your mouth in between sloppy kisses whilst he mumbled ‘m’sorry… m’so sorry for how I treated you when we were kids…’.

But after you were finished, the endeavour didn’t end there, you didn’t cut off all contact with each other and go back to never speaking again. No. Instead, Matt had boldly asked for your updated number, since both of you now had phones, a luxury that 6 year old you two could have only dreamt of. And he texted you, again and again, and he also came over to fuck you… again and again. He was certainly a lot more straightforward with it now, that’s for sure.

Matt just couldn’t get enough of you, he was fucking obsessed with you, and he took full advantage over the fact that his 20 year old self now had the confidence to pursue you, the confidence that 8th grade Matt lacked.

And so that was that.

Now you are both here, Matt making a routine visit around to your apartment with hungry eyes and a hungry appetite.

The older boy kneels onto your bed, the mattress groaning and squeaking underneath his weight which gets you to shift in anticipated desire as he crawls right over to your awaiting body.

Slipping in between your legs, your hands splay behind you and keep you steady as his lips feather onto yours again, his tongue making easy work of snaking into your mouth and licking against your own. He kneels in between your spread legs, smoothing his hands down your rib cage and sliding them to your hips, before moaning ‘lie down angel’ into your lips, gently helping you by digging his thumbs into your tender flesh.

You fall back, your hair fanning out around you, but your head not quite reaching a pillow, so Matt smacks his lips, leaning over you so he can snatch one and slide it under your head for your comfort.

‘That better for my baby?’ He mumbles with his hands coming to rest under your arms, dangerously close to your swelled tits that had hardened upon his presence. You nod and he smirks, leaning his head down as he simultaneously moves his thumbs onto the pebbles of your nipples, yourself whimpering whilst he rubs them and kisses down into your mouth again.

Matt spent an awful lot of time during your horny fucks trying to make up for his past actions and mean comments by showering you with compliments and babying you as much as possible and it worked to flatter you into wetness every single fucking time.

‘Aren’t you just so pretty…’ he absentmindedly praises against your lips, now slipping the rest of his hands onto your tits to gently squeeze them, resulting in your rosy blush turning to an aroused red.

You swallow, bashful and nervous as he gets you to lean up so that he can slip your thin cotton top from off of your torso.

Throwing it to the floor, he sits back on his haunches to admire your bare tits, dewy and flushed whilst you look away in embarrassment.

‘Stop staring…’ you mumble shyly, but he only frowns, reaching his hand forward to grip your chin and turn it back to his face. ‘But why? They’re mine are they not? You’re my little girl… not anyone else’s… beautiful things should be looked at’ he starts, and once again, you feel the gush and drip of your arousal seeping through your underwear.

His voice dims to a whisper… ‘and beautiful things should be touched… shouldn’t they angel?’ He asks a rhetorical question before his hands find your tits again.

You falter, moaning a little when his mouth comes next, fully attaching itself to your right one so that his tongue can roll over your sensitivity, he hums and your back arches when you grip onto his floppy hair, his palms now caressing your waist. ‘Fuck…’ you quietly breathe into the air, nearly having to bite your lip and suppress a groan when Matt cheekily mumbles ‘is my little girl trying to use big girl words now?’ into you tits.

His tongue drips saliva all over them, and when he pulls away the freshly coated skin shines within the light, before he goes to suck on your left one.

Matt likes to spend extra time on every inch of your body, every inch of your skin, before he really gets what he wants, which is a taste of the delicate cherry nestled in between your honeyed thighs.

Leaning his chin on your breastbone, he watches the way you have your head thrown back in ecstasy like a lion, before he leans back up to roll both his sweater and his shirt up and over his head, soon discarding his own clothes. Then, he slips his thumbs into your pyjama shorts, taking them off and almost drooling at the sight of your baby pink panties, soft with a little bow at the stitch of them.

Some things never change. Your incessant love for the colour pink ever since you‘ve been a little kid being one of them.

This makes Matt’s cock throb, and he drips pre-come into his boxers at the sight of his little girl with her tits out, all hot and bothered just for him as he leers over her.

Suddenly, you pipe up in a gentle voice, being careful with your inquire which makes Matt’s heart melt and his cock even harder.

‘Can… can I have your special kisses now, please?’

Matt nods his head, stroking his hands down the backs of your thighs as he dreamily muses ‘of course you can angel… such a good girl for asking so nicely, aren’t you?’.

His praise naturally rolls off of his tongue like melted chocolate, and his hands make you ache. Finally, he leans down, before nudging his nose against your throbbing nerve, mumbling a starved ‘these panties are so pretty little girl… I think I’m going to keep them so that I can wrap them around my cock whilst I think of you when I touch myself’.

With that being said, you let out a strangled breath, your back yet again arching and your toes curling as his thumbs slip into the waistband of them to pull them off.

After they roll off, Matt shoves them into his back jean pocket, wasting no time in diving back down and spreading your thighs open for him whilst he caresses them. He squeezes them when you hiss at the feeling of his tongue licking into you, his head nestled right in between your thighs so that he can look up at your face over-protectively.

Matt’s facial hair is long enough for you to feel his bearded face harshly graze along each side of your thigh whilst his jaw works mercilessly. The rough hairs rub against your core when his nose nudges against your folds to get better access and you arch your back into the air at the sensation of it.

‘Matt- that feels so good… please-’ you beg, not being able to help yourself as you grab his hair and keep him there, squeezing your thighs around his head so that you can guiltily feel his facial hair better as he licks into you.

‘Yeah? Am I treating my little girl well hm? Am I taking care of her like I said I would?’ He teases, bringing his face up to look right into your eyes from between your legs, obviously happy with the noises he has managed to force out of you thus far.

You nod your head, humming aggressively before you buck your hips up, wanting him to continue for a little while longer… and so he does, except this time, something changes within the swirling motions of his tongue.

Instead of his usual strokes and licks, he slows his wet muscle down, making you realise within the suggestive motions that he is spelling out an ‘M’ on your clit. After the ‘M’ he slowly kisses it once, before spelling out an ‘A’. Your stomach drops and churns with desire at the possessive yet erotic nature of the action.

Soon after a continuation of kisses, two ‘T’s are spelt out, and finally an ‘S’…

Matt’s…

Your clit belongs to Matt, and he makes that very clear with the flick of his tongue and the look he gives you as he gazes up at you whilst spitting on it to get it wetter with his own saliva.

‘You’re fucking mine’ he throatily speaks with a deep hoarseness to his voice, and your stomach rises and falls with laboured breaths.

‘Yes… yes I’m all yours!’ You whine into the air, looking down at Matt just as lustfully as he looks up at you, your past hatred of each other all washing away as you find comfort within the tangle of your limbs.

Then Matt hums. ‘You’ve been such a good girl for me, letting me have you like that…’ he strokes your thighs yet again in adoration, resting his bearded chin on your pubic bone whilst lustily flitting his eyes up to you.

You smile at how similar yet different he looks to you now, both of you enthralled completely with each other. Past pains and experiences are wiped clean from the new slate you selected for your lives as soon as you had bumped into each other that one time in the grocery store.

•Fourth grade•

You’re on a field trip with your fourth grade class to your local aquarium.

You mind your own business, sticking out like a sore thumb as you trail behind everyone else, walking at the back by yourself. But you don’t feel lonely, you feel content at finally having peace. As the rest of your class chatters in groups happily, squealing and marvelling at all of the colourful fish, you prefer to admire them in quiet silence, walking right up to the glass and staring at their delicate fins before each time, seeing that the rest of the class has moved on and running to catch up with them.

You had just exited the underwater tunnel through the shark tank, looking at the floor to see their sleek grey bodies gliding underneath you before entering the jellyfish room. There are tanks upon tanks of different colourful jellies, some poisonous and some harmless, but all of them equally as beautiful with their trailing tendrils of stingers. You gasp quietly, your eyes sparkling as you run up to a massive tank full of a glowing purple and green species that float and dance about in the deep blue water aimlessly.

You press your hands up to the glass in childlike wonder, your nose almost touching the thick material whilst you scan over them and try to count how many are in the tank.

Unbeknownst to you, a pair of eyes watch your back, he too, by himself as his group of friends had left him to go and look at a tank full of long orange jellyfish. He hides behind a small tank in the centre of the room, shyly peaking around the corner at you and trying to think of a way he can poke at you.

He bites his nails and hums, wanting an excuse to walk up and tease you since he hasn’t already done so today. Ultimately, he decides to creep up behind you, smirking quickly at the creative idea that shoots through his mind whilst looking at your dad’s old baseball cap sitting on your head.

His quiet walk soon turns into a quick bursting sprint, allowing him to race up to you and pluck your hat from off of your head before you have the time to register who it even is. You yelp and spin around in fear, your hand slapped on top of your now bare head as you look at a proud Matt in horror and fear. Your heart rate quickens. You were so scared of him.

‘HEY! Give me that back!!’ You bravely demand, your attention now distracted from the jellyfish and fixating upon the wicked boy who smirks and holds it up above his head. You go to reach for it, but realise in dismay that you aren’t tall enough. Matt had annoyingly had a boyish growth spurt over the winter break and was now a couple of inches taller than you.

You feel sick in worry as your heart rattles against your ribcage.

‘Ha! Nice try’ he cackles, extending his hand up even further when you wobble onto your tiptoes to try and reach for it. To steady your balance, you have to grapple your hand onto one of Matt’s shoulders to stretch upwards and he secretly blushes, not too sure as to why your touches seems to give him conflicted feelings of affection. You whine when he only leans up onto his tiptoes too, again, pushing your hat up further from your reach.

‘Matt this isn’t funny’ you struggle, smacking your lips and extending out your body as far as you can, before he starts to wave about his arm to dodge your clawed hand. He only giggles deviously in return.

Once, just once, you’d wish for him to not pester you when you’re minding your own business, you were enjoying your little day trip out, and this just ruined it all.

‘Yes it is’ he retorts back. But before he can take his jest any further, your fourth grade teacher Mrs Banks notices your little ruckus and decides to intervene, much to your immediate relief.

‘Matthew Sturniolo!’ She calls and Matt suddenly goes rigid, the hairs on the back of his neck raising as he turns to look at her sheepishly whilst her short high heels clack towards you two. You relax, knowing that Matt is probably most likely going to be told off. And you’re right when she berates him and forces him to hand you back your hat and apologise.

For the rest of the school trip you stay glued to Mrs Bank’s side, fearful that trailing at the back will only make you more of a target for Matt’s vicious onslaught of teasing once again. But Matt stays put with the rest of his friends, only giving you periodic glances and death stares after being chastised by your teacher.

You went home that day feeling dejected and Matt went home feeling confused and frustrated. Because why is it, that he enjoyed teasing you so much. So much so to the extent where he didn’t think he could go a day without it?

•Now•

‘Do you think you’re ready for my cock now angel…?’ He questions, before answering the question himself when he leans upwards to unbuckle his belt, the metal jingling as he threads it through his belt loopholes and onto the floor.

Then his pants come next, leaving him almost as exposed as you, before he bends back down and digs his hands underneath your body, scooping you up effortlessly and cushioning you into his lap. His hands freely trail, groping and squeezing your thighs so hard that when he removes them, they leave little red marks and crescent moon nail imprints into your flesh.

You kiss frantically once again, desperate to engulf your scents over each other’s skin whilst you place your thumbs on either sides of his cheeks. His tongue is hot and sticky, your connection so messy that sometimes you accidentally get spit over the skin around your mouths. As you stroke your fingers over his jaw and cheekbones, you feel his bristly facial hair and clench your soaked thighs at its roughness, remembering the way it sharply rubbed against the insides of your spread legs just moments ago.

‘Please- please can I have your thigh…?’ You politely ask into his lips, your beg coming out breathless and whimpered. Matt sighs, ‘but baby… I wanna have your gut…’. You pull away and pout in sadness, and Matt’s heart sinks at the look on your face, again, the guilt of his past coming to haunt him. Just then, he thinks of an idea.

‘Why don’t we compromise then…’ your face lights up and you nod.

‘What do you want me to do…?’ You trail off and clench again when Matt pinches one of your thighs. Matt smirks, and then crunches his stomach so that he can lower his back onto your mattress, yourself still sitting on his lap. ‘Take these off angel…’ he mumbles, referring to his boxers that conceal his dripping cock. You obey him without question, the angel comment driving you to the edge as you hook your hands into his pants and slide them down. You get up from off of his lap momentarily to remove them from his haired thighs and toss them onto the floor before returning your full attention to the way his cock stands and almost visibly pulses.

‘What now?’ You breathe and watch Matt’s grin as his head props itself up onto your stack of pillows. ‘Back on my lap n’turn around… let me see that ass’ he instructs lightly, his voice soothing and encouraging as you squint your eyes and turn your back to him in confusion. Swinging one of your legs over to his other hip, you sit on his pelvic bones, the sight of his sticky red tip dripping from just below you.

‘Spit on it.’ He demands once again, this time in a more commanding tone. Again, you do exactly as he says and let a thick string of saliva pour from out of your mouth. It splatters right onto his head and he hisses as it slowly rolls its way down the left side of his thickness. ‘Good girl…’ he struggles, his voice forced through his gritted teeth.

‘Now put one of your legs in between mine and sit on my cock’, you obey him quickly, your core aching to feel his shaft forcing your walls apart as you hoist you left leg in between his so that you can now sit on top of him at an angle. Gravitating upwards, you grip onto him and push his tip in between your folds. Slowly sliding down you let out a gulping pant before fully sitting your ass back down over his bulging hipbone. Matt tips his head back and feathers his eyes shut before willing himself to slide the thigh nestled in between your two legs upwards.

He brings it up just far enough for you to grind your clit over it when you start to move.

‘There’s your thigh angel’.

He smirks whilst looking at your back, your ass so tantalisingly sat on him that he could burst at any moment. He feels the heat from your clit emanating towards his thigh readily and it makes his mouth water.

Your chest heaves as you look down at his haired thigh wedging open your legs, the hard muscle of it brushing against your clit ever so slightly. After a couple of moments of silence and heaving breaths, Matt decides to reach out his hands to smooth them against the curves of your hips, his palms splayed on the sides of your asscheeks. ‘Is my little girl gonna move then, hm?’ He hums tauntingly, before helping you a little by rocking you forward and flexing his thigh towards you so that you can grind it onto your clit.

Your breath hitches and one of your hands comes flying up to firmly grasp ahold of his bent kneecap, the other one gripping onto the bedsheets at your side.

He starts to move you gently, his cock slipping in and out of your cunt slickly whilst your weeping clit is continuously stimulated on his thigh. You bite your lip, tossing your head back and arching your spine into the rest of his thigh whilst he keeps his eyes trained on the way your ass shakes gently with every swivel of your bouncing hips.

‘Thaaaat’s it… that’s my good girl’ he coos up to you with his raspy voice, admiring you from the back whilst you get off to him in the scissored seating arrangement.

‘Matt… this feels so good- please don’t… don’t stop…’ you whine through a moan, twisting your neck back slightly so that you can watch the way Matt’s mouth opens through pants, his cheeks pink with bashfulness as he guides your hips with his veiny hands. He hits all of your sweet spots at once this way.

‘Don’t worry angel face… m’not stopping until I make you cum the amount of times I made you cry…’.

•Eighth grade•

Matt and you are 13 now. Both going into eighth grade. Matt had been away at a summer camp all break and within that expanse of time you had developed a bit, both inwardly and more importantly… outwardly.

When you both return to school he isn’t quite expecting the sudden change in your appearance and he wonders how someone could morph so much in such a small amount of time… Going into your teenage years is certainly a perilous time for both of you because for one, your bodies are changing and your hormones are only just starting to activate properly, and two, Matt is finally getting to understand that possibly… affectionate feelings of his turn into acts of bullying when he likes someone.

That someone being you.

Matt’s 13-year-old self stands there, with gangly, growing limbs as he quietly ogles at you from afar, feeling awkward and self conscious in his own teenage boy body. What are these fucking feelings? Why are they so confusing? And why can’t they just leave him alone?

He watches you walk down the corridor towards him, his heart nervously thumping in his chest. He thinks you’re going to just walk past him, until he sees that you’re walking straight for him instead. He freezes, and almost pisses himself in fear with his fingers twitching and his eyes widened.

Quick Matt, think of something mean to say to her before it’s too late.

‘Excuse me’ you say bravely, trying to force down your nerves in front of a Matt, who clearly came back from summer camp with a gorgeous tan, his also usually dark brown hair bleached slightly lighter thanks to the sun. You thought it had been odd when his blonde hair back in first grade had slowly started to darken until he had turned into a brunette, but now you were used to it.

‘What?’ Matt mumbles, a little spaced out.

You raise your eyebrows at him. ‘Um… you’re standing in front of my locker I think’ you say, scared as to why he could be standing in front of your locker. Matt tried his hardest to shove down any nerves in front of you before scoffing and stepping to the side. He rolls his eyes.

‘Oh great, more than a hundred lockers in school and I get stuck next to yours’. Ah, so that’s why he is standing here… his locker is right beside yours. Great. You wince. You anticipate a mean comment from him every time you interact with him, but it doesn’t get any easier taking it. Guess that summer camp spirit he would have been surrounded with didn’t change his tune as much as you had hoped it would have.

‘Believe me, I’m not happy about it either’ you spit back, and shove past his lean figure to get to your locker. You start to put in your combination.

Matt blows a huff of air from out of his lips, crossing his arms and fidgeting about awkwardly behind you.

‘Knowing- knowing my luck… I’ll probably get stuck in the same class as you too’ he stutters, inwardly scolding himself for literally losing the ability to summon his normally quick witted attitude. Instead he stumbles over his words like an idiot. You only shake your head and sigh, shoving a note pad into the metal compartment before slamming it shut and re-locking it. ‘Whatever Matt’ you scoff and strut away, leaving Matt almost gripping the wall and heaving a sigh of relief when you’re gone.

But then later that day, it really is just your luck. Because both you and Matt end up walking into the exact same math class together, the two of you collectively sighing, but for vastly different reasons.

•Now•

‘Fuck you always feel so good’ Matt whines deliriously. ‘You’re perfect… just perfect for me’. The air around the both of you is hot, your skin rough and sticky with sweat whilst the sound of the bed squeaking underneath your bounces harmonises with your moans. You feel like crying in ecstasy, you love it when Matt’s cock makes you feel so full, because it helps to sate your appetite and you look forward to him coming around everytime he texts that he’s going to drop by.

You are so fond of how mature he is, how old he looks. It makes you squeeze your thighs together. And now he grows his beard out just for you because you say you like it so much, until it gets a little too long and he has to shave it again. But whenever it’s at that perfect stage, he always spends multiple nights around at your apartment, just so that you can utilise it. Matt doesn’t mind, he fucking loves it. Anything to make you happy.

‘I’m… I’m your good girl’ you breathe back to him, his thigh now almost soaking with sticky precum and spit whilst you grind you clit onto him and ride his cock simultaneously. ‘You’re my good girl’ he responds back reassuringly, the possessiveness in his tone only making you squeeze around him more. He doesn’t bother to bite his hand to hide his whimpers of pleasure because he knows you deserve to hear them, deserve to see the way you make him feel after all of these long winded years of unsolved feelings and pain.

You swivel on him a little longer, your tits bouncing rhythmically before pressure knots your stomach tightly together. Your mouth hangs slack as your shoulders heave more than normal. ‘Baby… baby I think I- I’m gonna cum’ you utter a high pitched breath to him, and he nods, rubbing his thumbs over your ass cheeks comfortingly as he helps speed you up a little faster. It drives him fucking feral when you call him baby, because he’s so fucking selfish and possessive over you.

‘Go on angel… cum all over me like a good girl’ he states once again, which is enough for the tight tension within your gut to snap. Waves upon waves of euphoria rush all down your thighs, your high lasting for a good while. Within this time, Matt’s breath similarly hitches, and it’s not long before he’s creaming his load into you too, ropes of cum dripping down your walls and around his now extremely slimy member whilst he thrusts you into oblivion and exemplifies your orgasm.

After they are over, you messily collapse backwards, your chest heaving thickly as you laugh. Your sweaty skins lies flushed against Matt’s whilst you rest on top of him. He smiles gently at your little giggle before scooping his arms up to tuck them underneath your tits. Using his upper body strength, he gently slides you up his torso a little farther so that he can cuddle you into him closely. He kisses your head gently, before moving on to kiss the shell of your ear as well. In doing this, his cock is slowly removed from your spent hole, allowing you to both relax in tired exhaustion.

Matt closes his eyes whilst nuzzling his nose into your hair. You delicately place your hands onto his forearms that wrap tightly around your chest. You stare at the ceiling before mumbling ‘who would’ve thought…’ down to Matt, who simply grumbles in questioning from below you. ‘That the guy who I thought used to hate me ended up in my bed a couple of years later’. You snigger and Matt smacks his lips, opening one of his eyes to turn and peek at your side profile from below you.

‘I never hated you… not really…’.

oa: @gamermattsgf

[seven-gill]

Hrng more WoF character sketches while I chip away at my other projects. Featuring even more green SeaWings.

1. Rendering practice with Turtle against The Brightest Night’s cover. I rewatched Klaus and fell in love with that movie’s style and it inspired me to try something other than flat shading. Definitely gonna be implementing that with my Listener headshot.

2. Shark and Moray concept exploration. I like the idea of Shark having tiger shark stripes. Not terribly satisfied with his coloration as I mostly borrowed it from the graphic novel. Moray was fun. Maybe I made her too eel-ish but I enjoy exaggerating designs and then reeling them back down into something a little more concrete. For this concept I went in a direction that made her vaguely unsettling but also a little vacant in the head. The only thing she’s ever thinking about is Coral. I wish I knew what her deal was. I bet Coral played a heavy role in her upbringing to ensure she was subservient and completely worshipful of her in order to avoid a potential challenger. I’m definitely strolling into headcanon territory here, but we’ve never met Moray’s mother, so my theory is that Coral stepped in after her untimely death (or disappearance ooo), as a way to control Moray. I could absolutely see it causing bad blood between Shark and Coral.

3. Shark again, but with an emphasis on shapes. He’s much more rectangular and sharp with a dark, heavy brow. This is my final version for the time being. I gave him a little wobbegong beard and the eyes of a man who is dead inside.

4. Ah, and Whirlpool. He’s been a favorite to draw because I get to revel in villainous design tropes. I didn’t want to make him overtly ugly, but he does have an unsavory look going on. Leaned into a scheme-y advisor archetype. He’s drippy and downturned with large, heavy, lidded eyes. I, uh, weirdly enough ended up taking a lot of design inspiration from Micolash (Bloodborne), primarily in the eyes and the smarmy grin. He’s my personal headcanon for Whirlpool’s voice even if the characters are hardly alike. Micolash’s voice just has this perfect oozing quality to it that makes my ears itch. If not him, then my other choice is that guy from the “what would you call this in English” meme. Y’know the one.

[pucksandpower]

Big Bad Wolf

Day 27 → Hunter/Prey 💋 Max Verstappen

Warnings: 18+ content and Jos Verstappen

Kinktober Masterlist

You sit on the edge of your bed, fingers nervously twisting the hem of your dress. The laughter and chatter from the other girls preparing fills the small room, but it only makes your heart pound harder. The scent of pine and earth wafts through the cracked window, mingling with the sharp tang of nerves and excitement.

Tonight is the night. Your first run.

“Are you ready?” The question comes from Emma, sitting at the mirror across from you. Her voice is steady, calm. Of course it is. She’s been through this twice already and hasn’t been chosen. Tonight’s her third, and the final chance. She looks at you through the mirror, her eyes soft with understanding. “I was terrified the first time too.”

You shake your head quickly. “I’m not terrified,” you mutter, even though the words sound like a lie as soon as they leave your mouth. “Just … nervous.”

Emma lets out a laugh, light but knowing. “Nervous is just another word for terrified when it comes to the run. Everyone is. Even if they don’t admit it.”

Across the room, Sara slips on her shoes, her lips pulling into a smirk. “Some of us aren’t scared at all,” she says, flipping her hair over her shoulder in a practiced motion. “Some of us are ready for whatever the night brings.”

Emma rolls her eyes, and you can’t help but smile. Sara’s been talking nonstop about how this is her year, how she can feel it. She’s been practicing for this night as long as anyone can remember, and her confidence is nearly contagious.

“Not everyone can be the next Alpha’s mate, Sara,” Emma says, rising to adjust her dress. “Some of us are just trying to make it through without tripping over our own feet.”

Sara gives Emma a playful shove. “Hey, speak for yourself. The run is all about instinct. If you trip, maybe it’s just the universe’s way of telling you you’re not cut out for this.” She throws you a glance, her smile softening. “But don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be fine. Just … stay out of my way.”

You let out a breath, trying to relax the tightness in your chest. “I don’t think you need to worry about me being competition,” you say with a wry smile.

Sara shrugs. “Hey, you never know. There’s always a chance.”

Emma shoots you a reassuring look before slipping her hand into yours, squeezing briefly. “You’ll be fine. You just have to breathe and trust yourself. It’s not about being perfect. It’s about being you.”

The sentiment is nice, but it does little to calm the storm of emotions inside you. Everyone here has been through it before — at least once. You’re the newcomer, the one who’s never run, who’s never had to face the possibility of being chosen — or worse, not chosen.

“You’re gonna do great,” Emma says again, as if saying it enough times will make it true.

“I just don’t want to embarrass myself,” you admit quietly, your hands fiddling with the laces on your boots. The soft leather feels grounding beneath your fingers, but it does little to stop the whirlwind of thoughts racing through your mind.

“You won’t,” Emma assures. “Trust me, it’s not as bad as it seems. Sure, you’re gonna be running for your life, but … y’know, in a romantic way.”

Sara snorts from across the room. “That’s one way to put it.”

Emma glares at her. “What? It’s true! It’s about the chase, about the excitement. That’s what makes it so exhilarating.”

“But it’s also about who’s chasing you,” Sara adds, leaning against the wall with a smug smile. “You know the males are going to be out in full force this time. The rumors about Max have everyone on edge. Every girl out there tonight is going to be hoping to catch his eye.”

Your stomach twists at the mention of his name. Max. The future Alpha. The one everyone’s talking about. The one everyone wants.

Emma’s expression softens as she notices your reaction. “Don’t worry about him,” she says quietly. “You’re not out there for Max. You’re out there for you. Just … focus on the run. Focus on the moment.”

But how can you not think about him? How can you not feel the weight of his presence, even though he’s nowhere near? Max has always been in the background of your thoughts — unreachable, untouchable. He’s the future of the pack, the one every girl dreams of, even if she pretends not to. And tonight, for the first time, you’ll be running with the possibility of crossing paths with him.

“Max doesn’t even know who I am,” you mutter, mostly to yourself, but Emma hears it.

“He doesn’t need to,” she replies softly. “It’s not about that.”

Sara’s smile grows wider, more self-assured. “Well, he’s gonna know my name after tonight.”

The room falls into a brief silence as you all continue to get ready. The weight of the night ahead presses down on you, and the laughter that fills the space seems to grow quieter as the minutes tick by.

You stand up, adjusting the hem of your dress, trying to steady your breathing. The forest is calling, the run is calling. This is the moment you’ve been preparing for your whole life, even if it doesn’t feel like it.

Emma stands beside you, offering a smile that’s meant to calm you, but it only heightens your awareness of what’s about to happen. “We should head down,” she says. “It’s almost time.”

Your heart stumbles in your chest as you follow her out the door, Sara leading the way with her head held high. The packhouse is bustling with activity as girls from all corners of the pack gather, excitement buzzing in the air like electricity. You weave through the familiar faces, feeling the weight of each glance that lands on you.

As you reach the edge of the forest, the moonlight filters through the trees, casting everything in an ethereal glow. You can hear the whispers of the pack, the murmurs of anticipation, the rustle of leaves beneath boots. The males are out there, somewhere, waiting.

You feel Emma slip her arm through yours. “Just remember,” she says quietly, her voice soft against the noise of the crowd, “It’s not about them. It’s about you.”

A loud howl echoes through the trees, signaling the start. The sound is like a jolt of electricity through the group, and the girls around you tense, their postures straightening. It’s time.

The scent of the forest is strong, filling your lungs as you take a deep breath. Every instinct in your body tells you to run, to move, to go.

Sara glances over her shoulder, a playful grin on her face. “Catch me if you can,” she teases, before sprinting off into the trees, her laughter echoing behind her.

Emma gives you one last look, her eyes filled with encouragement. “Just run,” she says softly. “Don’t think. Just run.”

And then she’s gone too, disappearing into the shadows of the forest.

You stand there for a moment, frozen, the weight of everything pressing down on you. The run has begun. The chase has begun. The thrill of it pulls at you, your heart hammering in your chest.

Then, with one last breath, you push off from the ground and run.

The forest swallows you whole.

***

Max stands in front of the mirror, rolling his shoulders and adjusting the collar of his jacket. The reflection staring back at him is stern, cold, and unreadable. It’s the face of an Alpha-to-be, someone expected to lead, to dominate, to find a mate tonight and secure the future of the pack. But behind his composed expression, there’s an undercurrent of restlessness. Another run. Another chance to find a mate. Another night where he’s likely to be disappointed.

His fingers trace the rough scars on his hands from years of training, running, fighting. He’s done everything expected of him, worked harder than anyone in the pack, pushed himself beyond what was necessary. But none of that has made this process any easier. No one has caught his interest.

His father’s voice cuts through the silence, and Max doesn’t need to turn to know Jos has entered the room. The old Alpha’s presence is unmistakable, a heavy, oppressive energy that has always suffocated Max. Jos doesn’t need to say much to convey his disappointment, his impatience, his expectations.

“You’re ready?” Jos asks, though it’s not really a question. It’s a demand.

Max doesn’t turn from the mirror. “I’m always ready.”

“Good. You need to be.”

Jos steps into view, his hands clasped behind his back, his posture rigid. Everything about him screams control, dominance, power — the kind that’s forced, the kind that Max has always despised. Jos has led the pack with an iron fist, and he expects Max to do the same when the time comes.

“You’ve let too many runs pass without finding her,” Jos says, his tone low, but laced with warning. “It’s time. Tonight is the night.”

Max clenches his jaw. He’s heard this speech before, every year. “I won’t choose someone just to choose,” he says firmly, his voice colder than he intends. “I need to feel it.”

Jos scoffs, the sound filled with disdain. “Feel it? You’re the Alpha. You don’t need to feel anything. You need to decide. This is about the pack, not your emotions.”

Max turns to face his father, his blue eyes flashing with irritation. “I won’t be tied to someone I don’t want. The pack will suffer if I choose the wrong mate.”

Jos’ eyes narrow, his lips curling into a sneer. “The pack suffers every day you remain unmated. Do you think they respect you more for dragging this out? Do you think they see strength in your indecision?”

Max doesn’t answer. He knows his father’s not entirely wrong — there’s been talk, whispers about why Max, the pack’s future leader, has yet to find a mate. The runs are supposed to be about instinct, about connection, about claiming. But Max has never felt it. Not once.

“Max,” Jos says sharply, stepping closer, his voice lowering into something more dangerous. “You are expected to lead. You are expected to find a mate, and tonight, you will. I don’t care who it is. Just make the choice. You’re not a pup anymore.”

Max meets his father’s gaze, holding it, the tension crackling between them like a live wire. This is the dance they’ve always done — Max pushing back, Jos demanding more. It’s been this way since Max was old enough to understand what being Alpha meant.

“Why do you care so much?” Max mutters, unable to keep the frustration from his voice. “What difference does it make if it’s this year or next?”

Jos’ eyes darken, and for a moment, Max wonders if his father will lash out. But Jos simply lets out a slow, deliberate breath, his expression hardening into something colder, more calculated.

“Because the pack needs stability,” Jos says, his voice clipped. “They need to know that you can make decisions, that you have control. Right now, you look weak. Indecisive. And if you don’t find someone tonight, they’ll start looking for that stability elsewhere.”

Max knows what his father’s implying. He’s been aware of the murmurs within the pack — those who question if Max is fit to lead, if his hesitation means he’s not strong enough to be Alpha. His father has always used fear and control to keep the pack in line, and Max can see now that Jos expects him to do the same.

But Max won’t be like his father. He can’t.

“I’ll find her when the time’s right,” Max says evenly. “Not when you decide it’s convenient.”

Jos lets out a derisive laugh, shaking his head. “You sound like a fool. This isn’t about fate or some fairytale. You’re the Alpha. You take what you want.”

Max’s chest tightens at the words. It’s never been that simple for him. The bond he’s searching for, the connection he craves, is something more. It’s not just about the run, the hunt. It’s about finding someone who challenges him, who understands him, who makes him feel something more than the empty duty that has been drilled into him for years.

“Tonight,” Jos says again, his voice sharp with finality. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Max doesn’t respond, and after a moment, his father turns and leaves the room, the door clicking shut behind him. The silence that follows is heavy, suffocating. Max stands there for a moment, staring at the empty space where his father stood, his fists clenched at his sides.

He knows what’s expected of him. He knows what the pack needs. But he also knows that he can’t — won’t — settle.

The run. It’s always the same, always a rush of bodies through the forest, the scent of pine and damp earth filling the air, the thrill of the chase. And every year, Max has found himself watching, waiting, hoping for something to shift inside him. But nothing ever does. None of the females have ever sparked anything in him, no matter how fast they run, no matter how close they come.

He runs a hand through his hair, trying to shake the thoughts loose. Tonight is different, though. He can feel it — an itch beneath his skin, a restlessness that’s been building for weeks. Something is coming. He doesn’t know what, but it’s there, just out of reach.

Max steps away from the mirror, grabbing his jacket and slipping it on, the leather molding to his form like a second skin. The pack is already gathering outside, the air buzzing with anticipation. He can feel the energy of the night crackling around him, the promise of the run vibrating through his bones.

He pushes open the door and steps out into the night. The moon hangs low in the sky, casting long shadows across the ground. The other males are scattered throughout the clearing, their eyes gleaming with excitement. They’ve all been waiting for this. The hunt. The chase. The chance to claim.

Max moves through the crowd, his presence commanding attention without him saying a word. He doesn’t need to assert himself. The others know who he is. They know he’s the one they all look to, even if they don’t say it aloud.

“You think this is the night, Max?” One of the males, Daniel, calls out, a sly grin on his face. “You gonna finally pick someone?”

Max gives him a sidelong glance, the corner of his mouth lifting in a humorless smile. “We’ll see.”

Daniel laughs, clapping Max on the shoulder. “Well, here’s hoping. The girls are looking better every year, aren’t they?”

Max doesn’t respond, his attention already shifting toward the edge of the clearing, where the females are beginning to gather. The energy around them is palpable, their excitement radiating into the night air. He can feel it — the pull, the tension, the unspoken anticipation of the chase.

The females are lined up, their gazes flickering between the males, their bodies taut with nerves and eagerness. Max’s eyes scan the group, searching, waiting for something — anything — to catch his attention. But as he watches them, that familiar feeling creeps in. The same sense of detachment, of distance.

None of them stir anything inside him. Not yet.

The pack elder steps forward, raising his hands to signal the start of the run. The air grows still, everyone poised on the edge of movement, waiting for the signal. Max tenses, his body ready, his senses sharp.

The elder’s voice booms through the clearing. “Let the hunt begin!”

In an instant, the females scatter, sprinting into the forest, their laughter and shouts echoing in the trees. The males are quick to follow, their bodies shifting, muscles coiling as they take off after them.

Max doesn’t move right away. He stands at the edge of the clearing, watching the others disappear into the woods, his heart thudding in his chest. He feels it — the pull, the instinct to chase, to claim, to find.

But something holds him back. Something feels different tonight.

And then, he catches a scent. Faint, barely there, but unmistakable. It cuts through the night air like a thread of warmth, pulling at him in a way he’s never felt before. His muscles tense, and for a moment, he’s frozen.

You.

Without another thought, Max takes off into the forest.

***

The wind rushes past your ears as you weave through the trees, your feet light on the forest floor. The moonlight filters through the canopy, casting dappled shadows across your path.

You run, but not with any real urgency. At first, it feels more like a game, something you’ve watched from the sidelines for years but never truly been part of. The thrill of the run is there, but muted, like you’re waiting for something to shift, something to make your heart race for real.

You laugh to yourself, feeling a bit of the tension from earlier melt away. The other girls had sprinted into the forest as if their lives depended on it, but you aren’t so sure. You’ve heard the stories of what happens during the run — the wild, frenzied chase, the heat of the hunt — but none of it seems real to you yet. Right now, it just feels like a midnight run through the woods.

You slow down slightly, breathing in the cool, earthy air, letting it fill your lungs. The scents of pine and damp leaves swirl around you, grounding you in the moment. There’s no need to rush. You know there’s a time limit, but the males will be busy chasing the faster girls first. You’re not on anyone’s radar, and that’s fine by you.

Ahead, the trees thin slightly, and you pick up your pace just enough to reach a small clearing. It’s quiet here, the distant sounds of the run — footsteps, laughter, shouts — fading into the background. You stand there for a moment, catching your breath, letting yourself soak in the stillness of the night.

“This isn’t so bad,” you whisper to yourself, brushing a stray lock of hair out of your face. You can still feel the remnants of nerves, but they’ve settled now, replaced by something calmer. You glance over your shoulder, half-expecting to see the others, but there’s no one. The forest is empty.

You think about what Emma had said — about running for yourself, not for them. Maybe she was right. Maybe this doesn’t have to be about being chased or caught. Maybe this can just be your moment to feel free.

But then you feel it.

It’s subtle at first, just a prickle at the back of your neck, like the sensation of being watched. You pause, your heartbeat picking up slightly as you turn in a slow circle, scanning the trees around you. The clearing is still empty, but the hairs on your arms stand on end. There’s something out there. You can’t see it, but you can feel it.

You swallow, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. “Okay, I get it. It’s a mating run. I’m supposed to feel like this.” But your own voice does little to settle the sudden unease creeping into your chest.

For the first time, the run doesn’t feel like a game anymore. There’s a shift in the air, something heavier, something more dangerous.

You take a step backward, your eyes darting to the shadows between the trees. “Hello?” You call, half-joking, half-hoping for a response. Silence answers you, but that feeling — being watched — grows stronger.

Another step back. This time, your heart skips a beat. You turn sharply, scanning the edge of the clearing again. Nothing.

Maybe you’re just imagining it. Maybe your nerves are playing tricks on you.

You shake your head and take a deep breath. “Relax,” you whisper to yourself. “You’re fine. It’s just the forest.”

But your body doesn’t listen. Every instinct is telling you to move, to run, to go.

You try to ignore it, taking another step forward, but that’s when you hear it. The faintest crack of a branch behind you.

You freeze. The forest, which had seemed so peaceful moments ago, now feels alive with danger. The prickle on the back of your neck is now a full-on chill running down your spine.

Someone’s there.

Without thinking, you bolt.

Your feet hit the ground hard, faster than before, your body moving on instinct now. The easy, leisurely run from earlier is gone, replaced by something wild, something urgent. Your pulse pounds in your ears as you sprint through the trees, your breath coming in quick, sharp bursts.

You don’t know who’s out there — whether it’s one of the males from the pack or something else entirely — but you can feel them. You can feel the weight of their gaze, the way they’re tracking you, following your every movement.

Your heart races as you dart around a thick trunk, the sound of your footfalls blending with the rustling of the leaves overhead. The forest blurs around you as you push yourself faster, harder. You don’t look back. You can’t. You just have to keep moving, keep running.

But they’re getting closer.

The trees are a blur now, your muscles burning as you force your legs to move. You can hear them behind you — the faint, almost inaudible sound of footsteps, the crack of branches, the soft rustle of leaves as someone — something — moves through the forest with a precision that makes your heart race even faster.

Whoever they are, they’re faster than you.

You veer off to the right, trying to lose them in the thick undergrowth, but it doesn’t matter. They’re gaining on you. You can feel it.

A low growl rumbles through the air, and your stomach flips. You push yourself harder, your breaths coming out in ragged gasps. Every step feels heavier, the weight of the chase pressing down on you, making your legs ache with the effort.

And then, suddenly, the ground gives way beneath you.

You stumble, your foot catching on a root hidden beneath the leaves, and before you can catch yourself, you’re falling. You hit the ground hard, the impact jarring through your bones as you roll to a stop at the base of a large tree.

Dazed, you blink up at the canopy of branches overhead, your breath coming in shallow gasps. The world spins for a moment, and you try to push yourself up, but your body feels sluggish, weak.

It’s too late.

Before you can even think about getting to your feet, you feel a strong arm wrap around your waist, pulling you up off the ground in one swift motion. A startled gasp escapes your lips as you’re lifted effortlessly, your back pressed against something solid — someone solid.

For a moment, you can’t breathe. The world narrows to the feeling of their body against yours, the heat radiating off them in waves. The scent of pine and earth fills your senses, stronger now, more potent, and you know without a doubt that this is no ordinary chase.

A voice, deep and rough, growls in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Got you.”

You freeze, your body going rigid in their grasp as the words sink in. The voice is low, commanding, filled with an authority that makes your heart stutter. Whoever this is, they’re not just some random male from the pack. This is something else entirely.

For a moment, neither of you move. The forest seems to hold its breath, the sounds of the chase fading away, leaving only the pounding of your heart and the sound of your ragged breaths. You try to think, try to process what’s happening, but your mind is a blur of confusion and adrenaline.

“Let me go,” you manage to gasp, though your voice is weak, trembling.

They chuckle softly, the sound vibrating through their chest and into your back. “You’re not in a position to make demands.”

Your pulse quickens as you feel their grip tighten slightly, just enough to remind you that they’re in control, that you’re at their mercy.

Your mind races, trying to come up with a plan, something to get you out of this, but there’s no use. They’re stronger, faster, and right now, you’re trapped.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” they say, their voice softer now, though no less commanding. “But I’m not letting you go either.”

You swallow hard, your breath hitching in your throat. This isn’t how you imagined the run would go. You never expected to be caught so quickly, so easily. And you certainly didn’t expect the one chasing you to be … this.

You feel their breath against your neck, warm and steady, as they lean in slightly. “Run all you want,” they murmur, their voice sending a shiver down your spine. “But I’ll always catch you.”

Your heart races, your mind reeling as you try to make sense of the situation. But there’s no time to think, no time to process what’s happening.

You’re caught.

And there’s no escaping now.

***

Your breath comes in shallow gasps as the figure behind you tightens their hold. The warmth of their body presses against your back, strong and unyielding. Every inch of you is tense, muscles coiled like a spring. You don’t dare move, barely able to think beyond the pounding of your pulse in your ears.

His hand slides from your waist to your shoulder, and before you can even process the movement, he spins you around. The world blurs for a second, the shadows of the forest twisting into one another, until your back hits the rough bark of a tree.

You look up — straight into the wild, burning eyes of Max Verstappen.

Your stomach drops.

Max.

Max caught you.

You’ve seen Max a thousand times before — calm, controlled, his power coiled tightly behind those cold blue eyes. But this? This is something else entirely. His eyes are dark, almost feral, like something untamed has been let loose inside him. His usual stoic expression is nowhere to be found, replaced by a snarl that twists his lips, a deep growl rumbling from his chest.

You’ve never seen him like this. You never even thought it was possible.

“Max-” His name comes out as a breathless whisper, but the second the sound reaches him, his snarl deepens, his grip on your shoulders tightening as he pushes you harder against the tree. You can feel the rough bark biting into your back, but the discomfort is nothing compared to the heat radiating from him, the way his gaze pins you in place.

“Mine.” His voice is low, guttural, barely recognizable as the Max you’ve known for years. “You’re mine.”

You blink up at him, your heart racing. “What are you-”

But before you can finish the sentence, Max lowers his head, burying his face in the curve of your neck. His breath is hot against your skin, and the scent of him — earthy, primal — fills your senses. You can feel him trembling, his entire body vibrating with some barely contained need, as if he’s fighting to hold himself back.

“Max,” you manage, your voice shaky. “What are you doing?”

His hands grip your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, his chest pressing against yours. The growl that comes from him is so deep it vibrates through your body. “You don’t get it, do you?”

Your mind is spinning, trying to make sense of what’s happening. “Get what?”

“I’ve waited for this,” he growls, his lips brushing your skin. “For you.”

Your breath catches in your throat. You? Max has waited for you? The words don’t make sense, not with the way he’s always been distant, cold, focused on his role as Alpha-in-waiting. You never imagined-

“Mate,” Max says, his voice rough and thick with a possessiveness you’ve never heard before. “You’re my mate.”

The world seems to tilt on its axis, everything around you narrowing to just him — his body pressed against yours, his breath hot on your neck, the word mate hanging in the air like a spell.

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head, though your body betrays you, leaning into his touch despite your confusion. “That’s not-”

But your words die in your throat when you feel his lips brush over the sensitive spot on your neck — your mating gland. His mouth hovers there for a second, his breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps, and suddenly, you realize what he’s about to do.

“Max, wait-” you gasp, but it’s too late.

With a low, primal growl, Max sinks his teeth into the tender skin of your neck, biting down hard.

The moment his teeth break the surface, the world explodes.

A shockwave of heat and sensation pulses through your entire body, starting from the point of contact and radiating outward, like a fire igniting inside you. Your vision blurs, your breath catching in your throat as the bond begins to form, snapping into place with a force that leaves you dizzy.

It’s overwhelming, like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Half of the bond, the part that Max has just claimed, roars to life, flooding your senses with an overwhelming need. Your body reacts instinctively, pressing closer to him, needing more — more of him, more of this connection, more of everything.

You can feel his emotions now — raw, intense, and powerful. There’s hunger, desire, possession, all wrapped up in a fierce need to protect. But beneath it all, there’s something deeper, something softer, almost vulnerable.

He’s waited for you.

The thought is dizzying, impossible to fully grasp, but there’s no denying it now. The bond is real, and it’s pulling at you, drawing you into him like a force of nature.

Max pulls back slightly, his mouth leaving your skin but staying close enough that you can feel his breath, warm and ragged, against your neck. His eyes are wild when he looks at you, dark with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. “Mine,” he growls again, his voice low, possessive.

You should be angry. You should be scared, maybe. But you’re not. Instead, the only thing you feel is the need to complete the bond, to claim him as yours just as he’s claimed you.

Your body moves before your mind can catch up. You grab him by the shoulders, pulling him closer, and he growls in approval, his hands sliding down to grip your waist. You can feel the strength in his fingers, the way he holds you like you’re something precious and breakable, but also like he’ll never let go.

“Max,” you whisper, your voice shaky, filled with the same need that’s been coursing through him. “I-I need-”

You can’t finish the sentence, but you don’t have to. Max’s eyes darken, his jaw clenched tight as he watches you, waiting for you to make the move.

And then, you do.

You don’t think. You just act, leaning in and sinking your teeth into his neck, right where his mating gland is. The second your teeth break the skin, the bond snaps into place completely.

The world shifts.

It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced — waves of emotion crashing into you, one after the other, until you’re drowning in it. The connection between you and Max flares to life, and suddenly, you can feel everything. His desire, his possessiveness, his need for you, but also something deeper — something softer. There’s a fierce protectiveness in him, an unwavering determination to keep you safe, to claim you not just because he’s supposed to, but because he wants to.

It’s intoxicating, the way the bond pulls at you, flooding your senses with heat and need. You can feel Max’s pulse racing beneath your lips, matching the frantic rhythm of your own heart, and it only makes you want him more.

He growls low in his throat, his grip on you tightening as you bite down harder, completing the bond. His entire body tenses, a shudder running through him, and you can feel the shift in him, the way the bond affects him just as much as it affects you.

When you finally pull back, gasping for breath, Max is staring at you with a look so intense it sends a shiver down your spine. His blue eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide, and there’s a wildness in him that hasn’t diminished, even with the bond in place.

“Now you get it,” he says, his voice rough and low. He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, sending another shiver through you. “You’re mine. And I’m yours.”

The words are a promise, a claim, but there’s something else there too — something deeper. The bond may have snapped into place like a chain locking around you both, but it’s more than that. It’s a connection, a tether that pulls you together in a way you never expected, never even thought possible.

You swallow, still trying to catch your breath, your mind racing. The bond is overwhelming, but it feels right — like something inside you has finally clicked into place, something you didn’t even know you were missing.

“I-” You try to speak, but the words catch in your throat. You don’t know how to explain what you’re feeling, how to put it into words.

But Max seems to understand. He presses his forehead against yours, his breath still ragged, his body trembling slightly as he tries to control the raw emotions coursing through him. “I know,” he says, his voice softer now, but still filled with that same intensity. “I feel it too.”

The weight of his words settles over you, and for a moment, the world around you seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you — connected, bound, and inseparable.

The run, the chase, everything that led to this moment — it all falls away, leaving only the undeniable truth.

You’re his. And he’s yours.

The world is still spinning from the intensity of the bond, every sense heightened, every nerve alight with sensation. You feel like your body is on fire, a primal need pulsing through your veins, a need you’ve never experienced before. Max’s forehead is still pressed to yours, his breath warm against your skin as he holds you close, his hands firm on your waist.

But the bond isn’t done.

It’s there between you, humming with energy, demanding more — more of him, more of this connection. You feel it in every fiber of your being, a pull so powerful you can’t ignore it. And neither can Max.

His hand moves from your waist to your hip, his fingers digging into your skin as his breathing deepens. His eyes are dark, pupils dilated as he gazes at you with an intensity that makes your heart race. The feral look from before hasn’t left him — it’s only deepened. There’s a hunger in his eyes, raw and untamed, and you can feel it reflected in your own.

Max’s voice is low, almost a growl. “I’m not done with you.”

Your heart skips a beat. There’s no mistaking his meaning. The bond, the bite — it was only the beginning. The weight of what’s about to happen hangs in the air between you, thick and charged with tension. You should feel embarrassed, maybe even shy, but all you can think about is him — how badly you need him, how badly you want him to complete what he’s started.

He watches you closely, waiting for any sign of hesitation, but you don’t give him one. Instead, you reach for him, your fingers curling around the front of his shirt, tugging him closer, wordlessly giving him permission. The bond hums in approval, urging you both forward, pulling you together like a force of nature.

That’s all the confirmation Max needs.

Without warning, he tears at the fabric of your dress, the sound of it ripping in half echoing through the forest. Your breath hitches, heat flooding your cheeks as the cool night air hits your skin, but you don’t stop him. You can’t. The need coursing through your veins is too strong, too overwhelming.

Max wastes no time, his own shirt following your dress in a shredded heap on the forest floor. His hands are everywhere — on your skin, in your hair, gripping you as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. His touch is firm, possessive, and it sends a shiver down your spine, every inch of you alive with sensation.

His lips crash into yours, hot and demanding, as he pulls you closer, his body pressing against yours. You feel his heat, the hard planes of his chest against your own, and it only stokes the fire inside you, making the bond between you thrum with even more intensity. The forest around you fades away, the sounds of the night swallowed by the rush of blood in your ears, the frantic beating of your heart.

Your hands fumble with the waistband of his pants, and he growls low in his throat, his hands moving to help you, tearing them off with a speed and strength that leaves you breathless. His hands, large and rough, move down your body, and then, with a swift motion, your panties are gone too, discarded somewhere in the forest.

You’re both bare now, the night air cool against your heated skin, but it barely registers. All you can focus on is him — on Max and the way he looks at you, like you’re the only thing that matters. There’s no hesitation in him, no shame. He’s completely unbothered by the fact that you’re standing there, naked and vulnerable, in the middle of the woods. He doesn’t care who might find you, doesn’t care about anything except you.

But you can’t help it — you feel a flicker of embarrassment, heat rushing to your face. You try to cover yourself, but Max catches your wrists, pulling your hands away, his eyes locked on yours.

“Don’t,” he growls, his voice low and rough. “You’re perfect.”

His words send a rush of warmth through you, and before you can respond, Max lowers you down onto the forest floor, his body hovering over yours, his weight a comforting presence. The ground is cool beneath you, but Max is anything but. His skin is hot, his muscles tense with barely restrained control, as if he’s holding himself back, waiting for you to say something, to give him the final permission to take what’s his.

Your heart races as you look up at him, his blue eyes burning with need, the wildness still lingering in his gaze. You don’t have to say anything. The bond between you speaks for itself.

“Max,” you whisper, breathless, your voice trembling with anticipation.

He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a low, rumbling growl. “I’m going to make you mine.”

And then he does.

Max moves with a slow, deliberate intensity, his hands gripping your hips as he enters you, filling you completely. The bond between you flares, snapping into place with a finality that leaves you gasping for breath. The connection is deeper now, more than just physical — it’s emotional, spiritual, a melding of souls that leaves you trembling beneath him.

Every movement sends a wave of pleasure through you, your body arching into his as he moves above you, his pace steady and controlled, but filled with the same raw intensity that’s been there from the start. You can feel his need, his desire, but there’s something more — something deeper that pulses through the bond.

His hands grip you tighter, his body pressing you harder into the earth as he claims you completely. There’s no gentleness here, no hesitation. This is primal, animalistic, a raw expression of the bond between you, and it’s everything you didn’t know you needed.

Max leans down, his lips finding yours in a bruising kiss, his breath hot and ragged as he deepens the connection between you. You’re lost in him, in the feeling of him, in the way the bond pulls you together with every thrust, every touch. Your hands find his back, your nails digging into his skin as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge, the bond between you tightening with every second.

“I’ve waited for this,” Max growls against your lips, his voice rough and filled with emotion. “You’re mine now.”

The words send a shiver down your spine, and all you can do is nod, your body trembling beneath him as the bond reaches its peak, the connection between you solidifying in a way that leaves you breathless.

“Say it,” he demands, his voice low and commanding.

“I’m yours,” you whisper, your voice shaky but filled with truth. “I’m yours, Max.”

The bond flares, and suddenly, everything snaps into place. Your body arches, your breath catching in your throat as the final piece of the bond falls into place, locking you and Max together in a way that feels unbreakable, eternal.

Max groans, his grip on you tightening as he follows you over the edge, his body shuddering above you as the bond completes fully, sealing you to him in a way that leaves you both breathless and trembling.

For a long moment, the only sound is the ragged breathing between the two of you, the forest around you forgotten. Max’s weight is heavy on top of you, grounding you in the moment, in the reality of what just happened.

You’re his. And he’s yours.

Finally, Max pulls back slightly, his body still pressed against yours as he looks down at you, his blue eyes softening just a little. There’s still a wildness there, still that possessiveness, but there’s something else now — something gentler, more protective.

He leans down, brushing a kiss against your forehead, and you can feel the bond between you humming with contentment.

“Mine,” he whispers again, but this time, there’s no growl, just a quiet certainty.

You don’t have to respond. He knows.

For a moment, the two of you lie there, tangled together, the cool night air brushing against your heated skin. The bond between you is strong, solid, and you can feel it thrumming with life, with energy, as if it’s still settling into place.

But then, Max moves, slowly pushing himself up and off of you. He stands, completely unbothered by his nakedness, his body still radiating that same confidence and control that he always carries with him. You, on the other hand, feel the flush of embarrassment creeping up again, the reality of the situation hitting you.

You’re both completely naked in the middle of the forest.

Max doesn’t seem to care. He bends down, scooping you up into his arms with ease, holding you close to his chest as if you weigh nothing at all. His eyes are on you, filled with pride and something that looks like satisfaction, but there’s no shame, no embarrassment. He’s triumphant.

You, however, feel your face heat as you instinctively try to cover yourself, but Max’s arms hold you firmly against him.

“Max,” you whisper, your voice filled with mortification. “We’re not wearing anything.”

He chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that vibrates through his chest. “I know.”

He starts walking, carrying you effortlessly through the trees, heading back toward the pack house. You can’t help but bury your face in his chest, trying to hide your embarrassment as the reality of what’s about to happen sinks in.

Everyone will see. Everyone will know.

But Max doesn’t care. He’s proud. You’re his mate, and he’s going to show the world.

***

Max strides through the forest, each step deliberate, his arms cradling you against his chest as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. He doesn’t bother hiding the satisfied smirk that pulls at his lips — he’s found his mate, and he knows it. He can feel the bond humming between the two of you, powerful and undeniable.

The night air is cool, brushing against both of your bare skin, but Max is too focused to care. You, however, squirm slightly, the awareness of your nudity heightening as the sounds of the pack grow louder in the distance.

“Max,” you murmur, glancing up at him, your voice filled with uncertainty.

He doesn’t even look down, his eyes fixed ahead, laser-focused on the clearing where the rest of the pack waits. “Don’t hide,” he says, his voice low, but firm. “They need to see.”

You swallow hard, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks again. It’s one thing to be with Max like this, alone in the forest, but the thought of everyone else seeing you — seeing both of you — sends a wave of embarrassment through you. But Max is unmoved. His grip on you tightens, his arm like iron around your waist as he walks with purpose, unashamed.

The clearing comes into view, the faint glow of firelight illuminating the figures waiting there. The non-participating pack members are gathered, eager to see who’s returning with whom. A hush falls over the group as they catch sight of Max emerging from the treeline, his broad frame unmistakable even in the dim light. He carries you as if you weigh nothing, his steps sure and unhurried, his pride palpable.

A murmur ripples through the crowd as they realize what’s happened. Max Verstappen, their Alpha-in-waiting, has finally found his mate.

Max’s chest swells with pride, and without warning, he throws his head back and lets out a deep, resonating roar that echoes through the clearing. It’s a primal sound, one of triumph, of victory, and it sends a shiver down your spine. His voice reverberates through the air, silencing the crowd as they stand in awe of their future leader.

The reaction is immediate.

Cheers erupt from the pack, a cacophony of hoots, hollers, and whistles. They all know what this means — Max has chosen. He’s claimed his mate, and now, there’s no turning back. The weight of the moment is heavy in the air, but Max takes it all in stride, his posture confident, his gaze sweeping over the gathered wolves like a king surveying his subjects.

You, on the other hand, feel your cheeks flush with heat as all eyes turn to you. Instinctively, you try to shield yourself, your arms moving to cover your exposed body. But Max is having none of it. He shifts you in his arms, catching your wrists in his large hands and holding them firmly against his chest.

“Max, please,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the noise of the pack.

He leans down slightly, his breath hot against your ear. “I said don’t hide.”

His words are not a request — they’re an order. And though a part of you wants to disappear into the forest again, another part of you can’t help but feel the power of his command, the certainty in his voice. He wants them to see. He wants them to know that you’re his, that this bond is real, and he’s not going to let anything or anyone diminish that.

As the noise of the crowd grows louder, you realize there’s no use fighting it. Max’s grip on you is unyielding, and the pride radiating from him is almost tangible. He wants the pack to see you, to see him, to understand that you belong to him now — and there’s no room for hesitation.

“Max!” A voice breaks through the din, and you see Jos stepping forward from the crowd, his face a mix of approval and indifference. Jos had always been more focused on ensuring Max fulfilled his duties as the future Alpha than on any personal connection his son might have to his mate.

Max barely acknowledges his father’s approach, his attention still fixed on you, though his expression hardens slightly. “Father,” he says, his voice steady.

Jos’ eyes flick between you and Max, a calculating glint in his gaze. “So, it’s done then?”

Max’s jaw tightens, but he nods once. “It’s done.”

Jos’s lips twist into a smile, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Good. I’ve waited long enough for you to make your choice. The pack’s waited long enough.”

There’s a tension in the air between father and son, unspoken but undeniable. Max doesn’t respond to Jos’ veiled challenge, his eyes narrowing slightly as if daring his father to push further. But Jos seems content with the knowledge that his son has finally taken this crucial step. He gives a curt nod, stepping back into the crowd, clearly uninterested in who Max has chosen — only that he’s done it.

The congratulations continue, pack members approaching Max with grins and slaps on the back, though none of them dare get too close. You’re acutely aware of every gaze, every cheer, as wolves you’ve known for years now look at you differently. You’re not just one of them anymore — you’re the future Alpha’s mate.

Max accepts the praise with a tilt of his head, his hold on you never wavering. His grip is possessive, grounding, and you can feel the intensity of his emotions radiating off him. Pride, satisfaction, and something deeper — something darker that thrums through the bond between you.

“Max! You finally did it!” One of the younger wolves calls out, a grin stretching across his face. “About time!”

Max smirks, his eyes flashing with amusement as he looks over at the young wolf. “I wasn’t going to settle,” he says, his voice carrying easily over the noise. “When you know, you know.”

The pack erupts into another round of cheers, their excitement palpable. But Max’s gaze flicks back to you, his eyes darkening again as the bond between you hums with a new kind of tension. He’s barely keeping himself in check, his control hanging by a thread as the reality of the situation sinks in.

He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear again, his voice a low growl that sends a shiver down your spine. “I want to take you back.”

Your heart skips a beat, the heat between you intensifying. He doesn’t mean back to the pack house for rest. He means back to continue what you’ve only just begun.

You glance around, acutely aware of the eyes still on you, but Max doesn’t seem to care. He’s made his claim, and now he’s ready to follow through with it. You feel the blush creep up your neck again, but Max’s confidence is unshakable.

“Let’s go,” he mutters, his grip on you tightening slightly as if he’s already made the decision for both of you.

Before you can respond, a chorus of howls and whistles erupts from the crowd as they catch on to Max’s intent. One of the older wolves grins, his voice carrying over the others. “Give the girl a break, Max! Let her breathe for a second!”

Max’s lips twitch into a smirk, but he doesn’t slow down. He’s already moving toward the pack house, his focus entirely on you. The sounds of the pack fade into the background as Max carries you through the clearing, his pace quickening as the bond between you pulls tighter, urging him forward.

“Max,” you whisper, your voice a mix of embarrassment and something else — something deeper that thrums in time with the bond.

He doesn’t answer, but you can feel his resolve, the way his grip on you is unyielding, his steps purposeful. He’s done waiting. Done with the formalities, the congratulations. All he cares about now is getting you back to the pack house, where he can finish what he started.

As you approach the entrance, you feel the weight of everything settle on your shoulders — the bond, the pack, the future that stretches out in front of you. But Max doesn’t seem to falter. He’s never been one to hesitate, and now, with you in his arms, there’s no question in his mind.

You’re his. And he’s going to make sure everyone knows it.

***

Max doesn’t slow down as he crosses the threshold of the pack house, his grip on you unrelenting. His focus is laser-sharp, his footsteps echoing in the quiet as the distant sounds of the pack fade into the night. He moves through the familiar halls with a purpose, barely acknowledging anyone who dares to glance his way.

You can feel the tension in him, coiled like a spring, ready to snap. And you? You’re caught in it, completely tangled in the intensity that rolls off him in waves.

Your heart is still pounding from everything that’s happened — from the run, from being claimed, from the eyes on you in the clearing. But now, in the privacy of the pack house, that pounding becomes something else entirely.

Anticipation. Need. You can’t ignore the way your pulse quickens the closer you get to Max’s room, your body still thrumming with the lingering effects of the bond.

Max kicks the door open with ease, stepping inside without hesitation. The door slams shut behind him, the finality of the sound sending a shiver down your spine. He sets you on your feet, but before you can even take a breath, his hands are on you again, gripping your waist and pulling you flush against him.

“You thought you could run,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous. His eyes are dark, almost feral, and you can see the possessiveness etched into every line of his face. “But you were never going to get away.”

You open your mouth to speak, to say something, anything, but the words catch in your throat. Max doesn’t give you time to respond anyway. He crushes his lips against yours, the kiss rough and all-consuming, his hands sliding down your body as if he’s determined to remind you exactly who you belong to.

The kiss leaves you breathless, your knees threatening to give way beneath you, but Max doesn’t relent. He’s a force of nature, untamed and relentless, his touch both commanding and electric.

“Max-” you manage to gasp, but he silences you with another kiss, his hands already working their way across your skin.

“I told you,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice a dark promise, “I was always going to catch you.”

There’s no room for argument, no room for anything but the overwhelming heat between the two of you as he pulls you toward the bed. The moment your back hits the mattress, the air crackles with something wild, something uncontrollable. Max is on you in an instant, his hands sliding up your thighs, pinning you in place as his eyes lock onto yours.

“This time,” he says, his voice low and dangerous, “there’s nowhere to run.”

Your breath catches as he lowers himself over you, his presence overwhelming, his weight pressing you into the mattress. His lips find your neck, and you can feel the rumble of his growl against your skin as he kisses the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. His hands grip your hips with enough force to leave marks, but the thought only sends a fresh wave of desire coursing through you.

You can barely think, barely breathe, as Max claims you again, the bond between you tightening with every touch, every kiss. This is nothing like the forest. Out there, it was raw, primal, an instinctive act of possession.

But here, in the privacy of his room, it’s something else entirely. It’s as if Max has no intention of holding back — no intention of stopping until every part of you knows exactly what it means to be his.

He shifts, moving his hands beneath your back, pulling you closer to him as his mouth moves down your body, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. You arch into him, the intensity of the bond overwhelming as you cling to him, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more.

“Max,” you breathe, your voice barely more than a whisper.

His answer is a low growl, one that vibrates through your entire body, and before you can say anything else, he’s pushing your legs apart, positioning himself between them with a hunger that leaves you gasping. The moment he enters you, it’s like a dam breaks inside you, the bond coming to love so hard it almost knocks the breath from your lungs. It’s overwhelming, every nerve in your body on fire as Max claims you fully, his body moving against yours in a rhythm that sends shockwaves of pleasure through you.

The bed creaks beneath you, the wooden frame groaning under the force of Max’s movements. You can feel it — the raw power in him, the unrelenting strength as he drives into you, his grip on your hips like iron. The bond between you pulses with every thrust, a tangible thing that seems to tighten and twist, pulling you closer, deeper into each other until it’s impossible to tell where one of you ends and the other begins.

You can barely form words, barely think beyond the sensation of Max surrounding you, inside you, his breath hot against your skin, his growls vibrating through your entire being. You feel the bed shift beneath you, the groaning wood reaching its breaking point, but Max doesn’t care. He doesn’t slow, doesn’t stop — if anything, it seems to spur him on.

The moment the bed frame finally gives way, splintering beneath you, Max lets out a low, satisfied growl, his lips curling into a smirk as if this is exactly what he wanted. He catches you before you can fall, his arms wrapping around you, holding you against him as the broken pieces of the bed frame scatter beneath you.

“Max-” you start, but he cuts you off with another bruising kiss, his hands tangling in your hair as he pulls you impossibly closer.

“I’m not stopping,” he growls against your lips, his voice rough with need. “Not until you understand.”

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks, the embarrassment from earlier flooding back. You’d thought you understood — thought the intensity of the forest floor was the peak of what Max could offer. But this … this is different. This is Max unrestrained, Max with no one watching, no expectations to hold him back. And it’s almost too much.

He shifts again, pushing you down into the now broken bed frame, his body covering yours as his lips move down your neck, his teeth grazing the mark he left earlier. The reminder of the bond sends a shiver through you, your body responding to him instinctively, your fingers digging into his back as you arch into him.

“You can’t run from this,” Max mutters, his breath hot against your skin. “You can’t run from me.”

“I wasn’t-” you try to protest, but his lips find yours again, swallowing your words as his pace quickens, the rhythm of his movements relentless, leaving you breathless and overwhelmed.

“I was always going to catch you,” he growls, his voice low and dark, sending another shiver through you. His hands grip your hips again, pulling you against him with a force that leaves you gasping. “I will always catch you.”

You can feel the bond tightening, pulling you closer to him, until it feels like the world narrows down to just the two of you. Max’s growls are low and possessive, his body moving against yours in a way that leaves no room for doubt — you’re his.

There’s no escape from him. And you don’t want there to be.

The bed beneath you is in ruins, but Max doesn’t seem to care. He’s unrelenting, his pace increasing until you can barely keep up, every thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through you, pushing you closer to the edge until it feels like you might shatter.

And when you finally do — when the bond snaps fully into place and the pleasure crashes over you in waves — it’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. Max follows a moment later, his growl vibrating through you as he collapses on top of you, his body still pressed tightly against yours, his breath ragged.

For a moment, the world is still. The only sound is the heavy breathing between the two of you, your heartbeats syncing together as the bond settles, the overwhelming intensity of it fading into a deep, unbreakable connection.

Max doesn’t move for a long time, his arms still wrapped around you, his breath hot against your neck. And though the bed is in ruins beneath you, though everything feels like it’s been torn apart, there’s a strange comfort in the aftermath. Max was always going to catch you. And now, there’s no running from him — or from what you’ve become.

***

The morning light filters softly through the curtains of Max’s room, a faint golden glow that dances across the tangle of sheets and broken bed frame beneath you. The world feels still — quiet in a way that seems almost surreal after the storm of the night before.

Your body aches in the best way possible, every muscle sore and tender, a reminder of how intense things had been. You shift slightly, the warmth of the blankets pulling you back into the heavy drowsiness that clings to your limbs, but something — someone — keeps you grounded.

Max.

He’s beside you, his body still wrapped around yours, his chest pressed against your back, one arm draped protectively over your waist. The possessiveness in his touch is unmistakable, even now. But it’s gentle, too — tender in a way that contrasts with the ferocity he’d shown you only hours ago.

You can feel his fingers in your hair, stroking through the strands with slow, deliberate movements. It’s soothing, almost hypnotic, and you let out a soft sigh, the sound unbidden, as the sensation lulls you back toward sleep. But before you can fully drift off, you hear his voice, soft and low, cutting through the stillness of the room.

“Mijn kleintje hertje …” His voice is thick with affection, the Dutch words rolling off his tongue like a private lullaby. His little deer. There’s something about the way he says it, so gentle and reverent, that makes your heart skip a beat.

His fingers continue to comb through your hair, and for a moment, you let yourself just feel it — let yourself melt into the way he touches you, the way he holds you like something precious. You had seen him as the alpha, the fierce, dominant force who claimed you without hesitation. But now, there’s a softness to him that you hadn’t expected. A tenderness that makes it hard to breathe.

“You can run, you know,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, the barest hint of a growl underneath. “But I’ll always catch you.”

There’s a playfulness in his tone, but it’s layered with something deeper, something that sends a shiver down your spine. He shifts slightly behind you, his arm tightening around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as his lips brush against the back of your neck.

“I’m the big, bad wolf,” he continues, the smile in his voice evident. “And you’re my little deer.”

Your heart flutters, heat creeping up your cheeks. It’s absurd — being compared to prey when you’re his mate, when you’re just as much a wolf as he is, when you’ve already been claimed so thoroughly. But there’s something about the way he says it, something that makes your pulse quicken.

“You’re teasing me,” you mutter, your voice still thick with sleep, though you can’t help the small smile that tugs at the corner of your lips.

Max hums in response, the sound vibrating against your skin. “Maybe,” he admits, his hand still stroking your hair, the rhythm slow and deliberate. “But you like it.”

There’s no point in denying it. Not with the way your body responds to him, to the possessiveness in his voice and the way he holds you so close. You don’t say anything, though. Instead, you turn slightly in his arms, shifting so that you can see his face.

He’s watching you, his blue eyes dark and intense, but there’s a softness in them now that makes your breath catch. He looks different in the morning light — less like the fierce alpha and more like the man behind it all. His hair is tousled from sleep, his stubble more prominent in the soft glow of the room, and there’s a warmth in his gaze that makes your heart ache.

“You were always going to catch me, weren’t you?” You ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Max’s lips curve into a small, satisfied smirk. “Always,” he says, without hesitation. His fingers trail down from your hair, brushing softly against your cheek, and his eyes darken just slightly as he looks at you. “I told you, I was never going to let you get away.”

You bite your lip, your heart pounding in your chest as the intensity of his gaze settles over you. It’s hard to imagine now, how you ever thought you could escape him — how you thought you could run from the bond that had been pulling the two of you together from the moment you first felt his eyes on you.

Max’s hand moves to your chin, tilting your face up toward his. “You’re mine,” he murmurs, his voice low and possessive. “Every part of you.”

You nod, unable to find your voice. There’s something about the way he says it — like it’s an indisputable fact, something as fundamental as the rising of the sun. And you can feel it, deep in your bones. The bond between the two of you is unbreakable now, solidified by the mark on your neck and the night you spent together.

“I still can’t believe this is real,” you admit quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “It feels like a dream.”

Max’s expression softens at your words, and he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “It’s real,” he murmurs against your skin. “You’re real. And you’re mine.”

His words send a shiver through you, and you find yourself leaning into his touch, craving the warmth and safety that radiates from him. Max shifts, his hand moving to cup your cheek as he tilts your face up to his, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

“You can try to run,” he says, his voice teasing but laced with that same possessiveness. “But I’ll always find you.”

You meet his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest, and you can see the truth in his eyes. Max is relentless. He always has been. Whether it’s in the pack, in the hunt, or in his pursuit of you, he doesn’t back down. He doesn’t stop.

And a part of you — the part that’s known since the moment he caught you in the forest — finds comfort in that. In knowing that no matter what, Max will always be there. He’ll always find you.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say softly, your voice steady even though your heart is racing.

Max’s eyes darken, his thumb still tracing slow, deliberate circles on your lip. “Good,” he growls, the word a promise. “Because I’d hate to have to chase you again.”

There’s a flicker of something in his eyes — something wild and unrestrained — and it sends a thrill through you, your body responding instinctively to the shift in his energy. Max leans down, capturing your lips in a slow, deliberate kiss, his hand still cradling your face as he presses you into the mattress beneath him.

The kiss is softer than the ones from the night before, less hurried and more intentional, but the intensity is still there — unrelenting, just like Max. His lips move against yours with a possessiveness that sends a shiver down your spine, and you can feel the bond between you tighten, pulling you even closer together.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, his breath is ragged, but there’s a softness in his gaze that makes your chest ache.

“I’ll never let you go,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. “Never.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest as the weight of his words settles over you. You can feel the truth in them, feel the bond that connects you both thrumming with life. It’s overwhelming — this connection, this need. But it’s also grounding in a way you never expected.

“I don’t want you to,” you whisper back, your voice barely audible.

Max smiles, a slow, satisfied grin that makes your stomach flip. He leans down, pressing another kiss to your lips before pulling back just enough to look at you fully, his eyes dark and intense as they roam over your face.

“Good,” he murmurs, his hand still resting on your cheek. “Because you’re stuck with me now.”

You can’t help but laugh softly at that, your heart feeling lighter despite the intensity of everything that’s happened. Max’s eyes soften at the sound, and he leans down to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

“Mijn kleintje hertje,” he whispers again, his voice soft and affectionate. His little deer. The words wrap around you like a blanket, and you close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the warmth of him, into the bond that ties you both together.

For a moment, everything is still. Quiet. Perfect.

And you realize, with a sudden clarity, that you wouldn’t want it any other way.