#maybe they just don’t care and i need to start blocking

[hoshifighting]

tutor!woozi (part 2)

check the part 1 (kinktober bonus)

WARNINGS: +18, smut, (oral f. & m.), throat fucking, penetrative sex, mentions of body fluids (cum, spit)

after that night, for all the times you’d wanted to text him, your ego kept its foot firmly on the brake. if jihoon thought you’d just come crawling back after his little remark, he was dead wrong. it didn’t matter how much your body craved another taste of him; no way were you about to give him that satisfaction. besides, it wasn’t like you were the only one who enjoyed that night, despite his attitude. if he wanted it again, HE’d have to come to you.

over the next week, every hallway encounter was a battle of wills. you’d pass by him with your friends, glancing away just slightly so you wouldn’t have to meet his gaze. and while your friends couldn’t help but notice the way jihoon’s friends looked at you as you walked by—waiting for the smirk you always used to throw his way—you’d hold your chin up and act like he didn’t even exist.

the whispers had started up again, too. after all, you and jihoon had been seen together plenty at the start of the semester, supposedly “studying” for a class you knew you didn’t even share. his friends had even toasted him over some rumor that tutoring wasn’t the only “learning” happening during those sessions. and now? they watched you like they were trying to figure out if you’d switched interests, especially when they saw you walking through campus with someone else’s arm casually slung over your shoulder. jihoon’s friends wore confused expressions, and if jihoon himself noticed…well, he didn’t give a single clue.

but it was getting harder to ignore it. especially tonight.

it was 9 pm, and you were dressed and ready for a night at the local bar, hoping a little drink and dance would be enough to take your mind off him completely. heading out, you made the mistake of cutting through his dorm hall, almost jogging to keep the tension from catching up with you. maybe he’d be out. or maybe he was too busy doing something else. you didn’t care. but as you neared the end of the hallway, a hand caught your arm, yanking you backward so quickly that you stumbled.

before you could react, you found yourself inside a dorm room, the familiar smell already cluing you in to where you were before you could fully process it. jihoon’s hand was still around your arm, the dorm was silent, the noise of the hall muffled as the door clicked shut behind you.

“where are you running off to, dressed like that?”

your pulse was racing, but you gave him a steady look, shrugging your arm free of his grip. “does it matter?” you smirked, turning as if to open the door, only to feel him step even closer behind you, blocking the way.

“what’s wrong with you?” you ask, crossing your arms.

you knew you had his attention, and now, for whatever reason, it looked like he couldn’t hold back anymore. jihoon opens his mouth like he’s about to answer, but he bites his tongue, his gaze dropping to the side as if the walls would have a solution for him.

“what’s wrong with me?” he finally retorts, jaw tense. “you had to ignore me that hard in front of my friends? couldn’t even throw a glance my way?”

you let out a genuine laugh. “weren’t you the one who told me not to reach out to you unless i wanted a ‘good fuck’? well, sorry, but didn’t seem worth it.”

his eyes flash. “really? ‘cause you seemed pretty into it at the time,” he counters, almost daring you to deny it.

“maybe i was.” you shrug. “but maybe i got over it.”

jihoon’s jaw clenches, and he takes a half step forward, closing the space separating you. “over it? you think you can just get over it that easy?”

“why not?”

he lets out a scoff, shaking his head. “you’re full of it. bet you thought about that night as much as i did. don’t. lie.”

your heart races, but you lift your chin defiantly. “if i’m full of it, then so are you, mr. i-don’t-need-anyone-reachin’-out-to-me. didn’t think you’d care if i ignored you. you’re all talk jihoon.” you tease, looking up at him, daring him to prove you wrong.

“all talk?” he scoffs, his mouth inches from yours, but he doesn’t close the gap. “maybe you need a reminder of how ‘not worth it’ i was.”

before you can reply, his hand slides down to the curve of your hip, pulling you close as his other hand tilts your chin up. his lips brush against yours in the faintest tease of a kiss before he pulls back, just enough to keep you wanting.

you let out a frustrated huff, trying to close the distance, but he holds you in place, a cocky smirk creeping onto his face. “not so fast... you wanted this, didn’t you?”

“you know i did.”

“so admit it... admit you wanted me to come after you.”

your pride fights to hold out, but the way his fingers dig into your ass meat, the way his voice drops just for you, it’s impossible to resist. “fine,” you whisper back. “i wanted you to come after me.”

he’s leaning in, lips parted, ready to crash into yours finally when your hand presses against his chest. he freezes, eyes flicking up to yours, searching. “bad boys don't get kissed.” you mock, savoring the way his expression falters.

he recognizes that phrase. he opens his mouth, maybe to protest, but he just closes his eyes, breathing out a low exhale through his nose, clearly biting back his response.

but the fury in his eyes returns, darker, and without a word, his hand slides up to the back of your neck, pulling you down with a grip that tells you exactly where this is going.

you let him guide you onto your knees.

“fine,” he mutters, voices gravelly, fingers grazing your jaw. “don’t need your kiss, anyway. got a better idea.”

his thumb drags along your lower lip, pressing until you open your mouth for him, and he can’t hide the hungry look that flashes across his face.

“this mouth of yours,” he mutters, thumb slipping between your lips. “always running it, always pushing me.” he watches intently as you take him in, tongue curling around his thumb, obedient despite the defiance in your eyes. “bet you’ll think twice about mouthing off when you’re choking on my cock.”

he undoes his shorts string, sliding it off, and before you know it, he’s pushing the fabric down just enough to free himself, his cock standing hard, thick and flushed in front of you.

he strokes himself slowly, dragging his length along your lips, smearing precum over them like lipgloss as he says, “you tap my thigh if you need a breath, got it?”

you nod, mouth already watering as you part your lips wider, letting him guide himself between them. his fingers tangle in your hair, pulling just enough to make you feel the sharp tug, and then he starts pushing forward, filling your mouth inch by inch until he’s pressing against the back of your throat.

he doesn’t ease up. he moves faster, driving deeper until he’s hitting that spot that makes your throat clench around him, your eyes watering instantly. spit starts to collect at the corners of your mouth, sliding down your chin as he pulls back only to push in again, even deeper this time, his cock stretching your throat wide, demanding every inch of space.

“all that attitude… gone.” his hand tightens in your hair, holding you still as he starts thrusting with a rough rhythm, hips snapping forward. “bet you’d do anything to prove me wrong now, wouldn’t you?”

he’s relentless, each thrust pressing your mouth and throat to their limits, your gag reflex triggered with every push. you feel spit pooling, slipping past your lips as you struggle to keep up with him, swallowing around his length even as he reaches deeper, his cock twitching at the tight, involuntary clenches of your throat.

you’re practically dripping, reduced to whimpers and gasps as he fucks your mouth, his hips rolling forward again and again, no space left for anything but him. when he pulls back for a second, a trail of spit stretches between your lips and the head of his cock, and he groans, wiping the mess over your cheek before plunging in again, going even harder.

“so pretty like this,” he mutters, watching as your eyes grow wetter, each thrust forcing a new wave of spit down your chin and neck, over his thighs. your fingers gripping his thighs for balance, and he smirks, giving a particularly sharp thrust that has you choking, throat convulsing as a line of spit drips down your chin. “that’s right. take it all.”

he starts slowing, grinding his hips forward, keeping himself pressed deep as he lets out a low groan, feeling the way you tremble. and then he thrusts one last time, deeper than before, pushing himself right to the base. he lets out a ragged breath as he stills, his cock twitching as you feel him tense, holding himself there, filling your throat as he spills into you, viscous and hot.

you swallow as best as you can, the bitter taste coating your tongue, but he doesn’t let you pull back right away.

you let the fullness press down on your throat until the edges of your vision begin to blur, the air thinning, everything swimming. you tap his thigh rapidly, a faint, desperate plea, and just as your lungs burn hottest, he releases, pulling you back with a hand steadying your shoulder. you slump onto your heels, shoulders sagging as you gulp down air, your head swimming with the remnants of his hold on you.

his hands stay firm on your shoulders, keeping you steady as you breathe, your throat aches, stretched and raw, the sting of his rough pace lingering with every shallow gulp.

as he maneuvers you onto the bed, his hands slide down impatiently and your dress and panties are gone all in once. he pauses for a moment, taking you in, his gaze raking over the sight of your swollen lips and sultry eyes, glazed with that barely-there smirk. 

he cant do this right now.

he grips your arm, twisting you to fall chest-first onto the mattress, hips lifted up as his arm curls around you.

“you—” you scoff, voice raspy, “can’t you fuck me while looking at my face?”

he lets out a low laugh, leaning close to your ear as his hand slides down your back. “oh, i think you’ve had enough of my face for tonight… plus, i think you look even better like this—bent over and whining.”

you couldnt even have a second to roll your eyes, a comeback on the tip of your tongue, but he’s already there, pressing into you suddenly, stretching your pussy in one hard, unrelenting thrust that punches the breath right out of your lungs. a cry rips from you, loud and hoarse, and you brace yourself against the mattress, fingers twisting into the sheets as your whole body shakes.

"that shut you up?” he breathes, hands digging into your hips as he sets a bruising pace. you can’t even catch your breath, every thrust leaving you reeling, gasping for air. tears prick at your eyes, spilling over as he hits that spot, so precise it’s maddening.

“fuck—s-so deep—” you choke out, incoherent as you press your cheek to the sheets, gripping the fabric so hard your knuckles ache. his fingers dig into the meat of your hips, pulling you back to meet every thrust, his balls slapping your clit making you convulse with everythrust. 

“thought you wanted this, yeah?” he taunts, leaning down. “thought you liked it rough. what, too much for you now?”

“n-no—” you manage, though the word comes out in a broken sob, your voice betraying you. he’s unrelenting, snapping his hips forward with every word, and you can feel yourself falling apart, the way he’s not holding anything back. it’s dizzying and yet you can’t help but crave it, want more, need more.

“thought you could handle it, acting all cocky,” he sneers, giving your ass a hard smack that makes you jolt, a fresh tide of tears spilling down your cheeks.“crying for it. pathetic.”

you let out a choked, breathless sob, the humiliation only heightening the need simmering inside you. “p-please…” you whimper, unable to do anything but plead as he keeps driving into you.

“oh, now you’re begging?” he laughs. “all that attitude, all that talk, and now you’re nothing but a crying mess on my bed.”

another broken cry slips out of you, and he chuckles. his hands trail down your spine, his fingers digging into your skin, grounding you, steadying you in the haze.

“you’re so fucking pretty like this,” he coos. “all desperate… should’ve known you’d like it this way.”

you can’t respond, can’t do anything but let out a helpless, broken cry, body arching, straining against him as you feel your orgasm approaching. and even then, he doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, keeping you there.

“you thought you could come in here all high and mighty that night.. now look where that got you.”

“shut up,” you manage to gasp as he snaps his hips harder, the sound echoing in the small space. “you’re—” another thrust cuts you off, drawing another whimper from your throat.

“i’m what? too rough for you? too much for that little mouth of yours? you’ve got no problem talking back when you’re not getting fucked, huh?”

“i said shut up!” you cry out, though your voice is shaky, betraying you. “you’re just—oh my god—”

“just what?” 

“i hate you,” you whimper, even as your body betrays you, arching into him, chasing that sweet friction.

he can hear the contradiction.

“sure you do,” he laughs softly, his breath warm against your skin.

the moment you squeeze him harder, makes him wince, his cock feels so sensitive, after that last mind-blowing orgasm, and he can’t help but throw his head back, his breath hitching in his throat as he fights to control himself.

you’re lost in your own world, eyes shut tight as you cling to him, and he uses that to his advantage. with a smirk curling on his lips, he pulls out slowly, relishing the way your body protests against the emptiness.

“n-no, jihoon!” you whine, instinctively reaching for him. you grab his hand from behind your back, intertwining your fingers with his, a silent plea not to tease you anymore. 

“c’mon, jihoon, just stop teasing me already.” you push your ass against his hips, a cheeky slap echoing in the room. 

he would be lying if he says it doesn’t turn him on, when your existence is enough to make his blood run hot. as he lowers himself behind you, he can’t help but watch the way your pussy clenchesaround nothing, how your curves seem to invite him in. 

he leans in, letting his breath ghost over your skin before he dives in, his tongue swirling around your dripping pussy. you cry all cute on his sheets, like his tongue was a sweet and massaging reward after he destroyed your cunt with his thick lenght.

he lets your clit rest under his tongue as he dives the tip of the wet, pinky muscle, between your folds. just to flick the tongue down again and take the throbbing nerve inside his mouth, making you sob.

his tongue dances across your folds, the slickness of your cum coating him. his mouth is warm and inviting, eager haven as he drinks you in. he alternates between languid licks that tease your puffy lips and insistent flicks that make you roll your eyes. 

your hands tangle in his hair from behind, pulling him closer as you urge him on, the silky strands slipping through your fingers. his fingers tighten around your thighs, holding you firmly in place as he plunges his tongue deeper, swirling it around inside you.

your body is a symphony of slickness, the remnants of your cum coating his chin and the skin around his mouth. he dives back in, tongue swirling around your entrance, licking up every drop of your honey before turning his attention back to your clit.

“i’m so close, jihoon,” you whimper. “that's it!”

he responds by sucking your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it while his fingers push into you, the pressure of them stretching you just right. 

as if on cue, you feel that big hot bubble in your lower belly snap, you cry out, each pulse of the orgasm making you tighter around his fingers. 

jihoon couldn't shake the feeling of unease as he watched you get up from his bed, your movements quiet and subdued after your intense orgasm. the post-orgasm glow faded too quickly.

“where do you think you’re going?” he asked as he pulled you back down onto the bed. you landed softly, your eyes wide and innocent as you frowned at him.

“i’m… leaving?” you said, trying to keep your tone light.

he exhaled sharply, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment as he fought against the frustration. “you’re only saying that because of how i made you leave the last time, aren’t you?”

you shifted slightly, looking away as if the truth was too difficult to face. “maybe..” you admitted softly, and that single word made his heart sink.

“i’m sorry about that,” he said, sincerity lacing his tone. “i miss those tutoring classes, you know? i didn't mean to push you away like that. it’s just… i think—”

“you think?” you shot back, crossing your arms defiantly. “you told me not to come after you unless i wanted a good fuck. not very delicate.”

“that was a mistake,” he insisted, as he searched your eyes. “i didn’t think it would end up like this. i thought we were just messing around.” he ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident on his face. “but i want more than that. i like having you around.”

you looked at him, your expression softening just a little. “so, what? you want to tutor me again? pretend like we didn’t just…” you trailed off.

“no,” he replied firmly. “i want to be honest with you. i want you to want me, not just as a way to fill some need… just like i want you.” he paused, gathering his thoughts.

“so you’re just going to keep me here, like this?” you asked, tilting your head. 

“if you’ll let me,” he replied. “just stay.”

“you really think it’s that easy? just because we had one good round?”

“it’s not just about the sex,” he said, getting nearer. “i want to explore more than that, but only if you’re willing.”

“and if i’m not?” you asked.

“then i guess i’ll have to work a little harder to change your mind,” he teased lightly.

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile creeping onto your lips. “good luck with that, jihoon. i’m not that easy.”

“i never thought you were,” he smirked, leaning closer. “but i’m willing to put in the effort. so, what’s it gonna be?”

you bit your lip, “maybe i’ll stick around for a little while longer,” you replied, leaning back into the bed with a teasing smile.

“good choice.”

[validfemale]

how to: overcome the need for validation in manifesting.ᐟ ⊹₊⟡⋆

alright, doll, this one’s for you because let’s be real—needing outside validation is the biggest block when it comes to manifesting your dreams. maybe you’re feeling like you need the universe to give you a little “thumbs up” before you fully believe in what you’re creating.

here’s the thing: when you’re manifesting, it’s about deciding it’s true and living from that decision. not hoping, not wishing—deciding. once you decide, it’s true because you said so, and that’s the only validation you’ll ever need. period.

❤︎ ︎ — stop looking for proof.

if you’re still feeling like you need outside signs to back up your desires, your job right now is to declare your desires as fact without searching for evidence. searching for proof is you telling the world, “i’m not in control, i need validation.” no, babe—you are the one in control. the second you stop looking around for proof and start claiming what’s yours, that’s when things begin to shift.

❤︎︎ — you are the creator.

the game changes once you realize who you really are: the creator of your reality. nothing—and i mean nothing—can show up in your world unless you assume it will. your world? it’s a mirror, just a reflection of your beliefs, your assumptions, your expectations. if there’s something you’re not vibing with, that’s just a nudge to shift your inner story. this is why people can have totally different experiences in the same situation—it all comes down to what each person believes is true for them.

❤︎︎ — prove it to yourself.

building trust with yourself is a process. start with something small—manifest a random colored car, an unusual name, something you don’t care too much about. when you start to see these things pop up? that’s your proof. those things only appeared because you focused on them and gave them permission to exist in your world. it’s all about showing yourself that you’re the one with the power.

❤︎︎ — upgrade your self-concept.

your self-concept? that’s the backbone of it all. remind yourself daily that you are the creator here. when you fully step into that role, everything falls into place. the outside world doesn’t exist to validate you; in fact, it’s waiting for you to validate it. understand this, and the need for outside proof disappears because you’ll see the world as your personal “simon says.” you say it, and the world responds.

❤︎︎ — you are the proof.

think of the world as a mirror, a perfect copy-paste of whatever you decide is true. there’s no more waiting on the universe to confirm things for you because, doll, you’re the one giving the orders. when you choose an experience, it has no choice but to unfold exactly how you chose it. forget needing outside validation—you are the source. repeat after me: i don’t need proof. i am the proof.

get ready, because once you own this, life’s about to hand you everything you’ve been asking for. you’re choosing your reality—watch it bend and fold around you like the masterpiece it is. 🎀

[the-ebil-eye]

fam

[ahalliance]

how do i turn qantoine’s spontaneous marriage proposal to qetoiles into evidence of his early-days fear of qfrench drifing away and keeping secrets from one another

[valiantlycleverinfluencer]

I hate Doug ford so much.

[akechi-if-he-slayed]

he sent me a snap friend request. persona fanboy who completely ruined me emotionally and is going out with my ex best friend. chat im gonna be honest i do not know what to do here

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 4 - You Can Be Useful

Summary: You have a long weekend that ends rather unexpectedly. Perhaps that’s not such a bad thing. 

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, suggestive content, language, some brief violence at the end.

A/N: I'm in a bit of a crisis so you're getting a bonus chapter this week. It's a beefy one and I wrote like 90% of it yesterday, just had the brain sludge by the time I was close to finishing and decided to rest before I finished and edited. Things are starting to get a big suggestive here, so as a reminder, this fic will have NSFW content in later chapters so please do not interact with it if you are under 18. I'd hate to have to block you.

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“How are you settling in?” 

“Fine.” You shrug. 

“Any instinct to nest at all?” 

You shake your head. “No.” 

“That’s fine.” Dr. Keller says, writing something down. “It’s only been just over a week. Have you started kneeling for Captain Price yet?” 

You shake your head again. “No.” 

Dr. Keller tilts her head. “Why not?” 

You shrug again. “He hasn’t brought it up.” 

“Is that something you’d like to start doing?” 

Her question catches you off guard again. You’re not used to being asked what you want, afterall you’re an omega. That’s not important. You’re here to serve. To do as you’re told. You remember watching your mother kneel for your father while he watched TV, her dazed, glazed over eyes staring at nothing as he almost seemed to hypnotize her into the shell of a perfect omega. It was your first taste of truly how much power alphas could hold over omegas. One hand on the back of your neck and it’s over. 

“I...I don’t know.” You say, picking at your sleeve. 

“You’re allowed to want things too.” Dr. Keller leans forward just slightly, giving you a smile. “I highly doubt Captain Price will make much of a fuss if you ask for something you need. He cares about you. If he didn’t, you wouldn’t be sitting here alone.” She tilts her head at you, watching you pick at your sleeve. “Is there anything you want or maybe need that you haven’t asked for?” 

Softer blankets. A fluffier pillow. Different body wash and shampoo. New clothes. A picture or a poster or something to make your room seem less clinical. Your instincts to finally start kicking in. Price to want you as much as he’s supposed to. Ghost to like you. To go back in time and let Soap kiss you. 

To go back in time and never present as an omega. 

“No.” You finally answer, shaking your head. “I’m fine.” 

Dr. Keller stares at you for a long moment. You avoid her gaze, picking at the seam of your sleeve. “I know you’re going to get tired of me saying this, but it’s important that you understand that this is a safe space for you. Everything that we discuss, everything that you say in here stays between you and me. Doctor-patient confidentiality is something I firmly believe in, even when it comes to alpha/omega relationships. Okay?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” You say quietly, still avoiding her gaze. 

She continues to stare at you for a moment before she leans back on the couch again, shuffling some papers around. “The two betas, Sergeant Garrick and Sergeant MacTavish. How are you getting along with them?” She continues with her questions.

“Fine.” You lean back in your chair, hoping it might swallow you whole. “They’re easiest to get along with.” 

Dr. Keller nods. “Good. I’m a strong advocate for organic pack bonding. Helps avoid any dynamic struggles or false instincts down the line. How are you sleeping?” 

“Fine I guess.” You shrug. “I nap a lot.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with that. Omegas need a lot of sleep and I can imagine adjusting to a new schedule has been rough.” Dr. Keller moves the papers to the couch next to her, looking up at you. “Is there anything you want to talk about?” 

You hesitate, pulling at the seam of your sleeve. It’s beginning to unravel a bit from your nervous picking. You’ll have to fix it. Dr. Keller is right, though. You could just ask for a new one. Price had told you they had a budget for your needs, plus they do get paid well. Anything you needed, they would gladly get for you. 

You just have to ask. 

It’s the asking that you’re not sure you can do. It feels strange to ask anything of your new pack. They’re supposed to be the ones needing things from you. If Soap had wanted to kiss you, he could have. Instead he left it up to you. He let you decide. You wonder if Price’s hesitation to move forward has been because he’s waiting on you. 

They’re all waiting on you, except maybe Ghost. They’re waiting on you to make the first moves, on you to set the pieces on the board. What is the first move? How do you set the pieces? Did you even need to? Would they fall into place organically if you just left them alone? Or would the tension continue to build up, would you continue to affect them until it became too much and the pressure causes everything to blow? 

“I’m affecting them.” You say, the words slipping out before you can stop them. 

Dr. Keller tilts her head as she stares at you. “What do you mean?” 

“They’re soldiers. They’re good soldiers with years and years of training, that’s why they're here. But...but I’m changing that. I asked Price if I could go with them and watch them run a training course cause I read in a book that I should get to know them and the things they like and so I was just curious what they do during the day when I’m not with them. He let me watch and he told me their top speeds running the training course but...none of them met those times with me there.”

You take a deep breath, the words pouring out of you easily now. You feel as if you’re not even thinking of them, not even measuring them or using caution as you normally would in any conversation. They’re slipping out from somewhere deep inside and now that you’ve opened that dam, you can’t stop it. 

“Price made them run through it five times and they still couldn’t match their top speeds. He said it was a good thing that they figured that out, that they need to know how I’m affecting them and how to adjust to me. And every time they ran through it, I couldn’t stop thinking about...” 

You take another breath, the air catching in your lungs. Your fingers are shaking, your body sinking deeper and deeper into the chair, almost as if you’re trying to get it to swallow you whole. As if the chair might wrap its arms around you and pull you into its softness and keep you there until you can’t breathe and it suffocates you. 

“What if it was me? What if they were having to rescue me? I know that’s a risk, a low one, but it’s still a risk. The CIA and Kate warned me that I could become a target if the wrong person found out about me. That’s why I can’t know anything about what they do because that puts me at more of a risk, and I could be a threat to them and the entire world if something got out that wasn’t supposed to.” 

You’re breathing heavily as the words finally come to a stop. Dr. Keller’s eyes are shining with sympathy as she stares at you. This is the most you’ve ever opened up to her, the most words you feel you’ve ever spoken to her in the two times now that you’ve met.

It feels good. It feels really good to voice your thoughts and your fears to someone on the outside, someone you can trust won’t tell anyone. You couldn’t voice these fears to your pack. They’re used to this kind of thing. They live with the knowledge they could die at any point, that any mission might be their last. How many lives have they seen lost, how many close calls have they had? You’ve seen scars already on arms, hands, faces. How many others are hidden where you can’t see? 

How many scars do they have inside, too? 

“I want you to know that your fears are very valid.” Dr. Keller says, her voice soft. “Being involved in the military comes with a lot of risks, and then you get to places like this and those risks only get greater and greater. I can’t promise you that something like that won’t ever happen, because we have no way of knowing. The risk is not zero for a reason.” 

Dr. Keller stands from the couch, moving to the chair next to you. The calming beta scent washes over you, and you know you have to be stinking up the room. She turns the chair slightly to face you, leaning forward onto her knees. You can see the imprints on the sides of her nose from where she’d been wearing glasses earlier. 

“That risk is also only low for a reason. Your identity has been well hidden, just like those of your pack’s. You’re on a well protected and secure military base. This place is a black square on Google Maps. I know, I tried looking it up when I found out where I was being assigned.” She reaches out, squeezing your arm gently. “And I highly doubt your pack would ever let anything happen to you. Packs are highly protective over their omegas. Even bad alphas can’t fight that instinct when their pack is threatened. Your pack would quite literally go to war for you.” 

She is right, you know she is. Yet that fear continues to wiggle at the back of your mind. You know they’d never let anything happen to you, but they’re going to start leaving soon. What if something happens while they’re not here? Who will help you then? The other soldiers? The betas that stare and the alphas that catcall you? 

“I guess you’re right.” You say, continuing to pick at your sleeve. At this rate, by the time your heat starts, you’ll have unraveled the whole sweatshirt.  

The buzz of your phone on your nightstand pulls you from your half asleep state. Your book is on the floor, having dropped from your hands and slid off your bed as you drifted off. Your lamp is still on, casting a warm glow around your room. You prefer the softer light compared to the fluorescent overhead, as most omegas do. There’s something too clinical and sterile about fluorescents. 

You grab your phone, pushing yourself up onto your elbow as you try to blink the sleepiness away. It’s not terribly late, but you’ve been feeling the exhaustion all day since your conversation with Dr. Keller. 

“Be ready by 0500 tomorrow. Wear something meant for the outdoors.” 

It’s a text from Price, your brow furrowing as you read it over. Five in the morning on a Saturday? That’s the earliest you’ve had to get up since your arrival on base. And wear something meant for the outdoors? You can only imagine what he has planned for the day you had been planning on spending sleeping. 

You make a quiet noise of indignation as you text back in confirmation, setting an alarm so you can be ready by 5 am. Not up by 5 am, ready by 5 am. You have half a mind to call him, or to text back asking why he feels you need to be up before the sun. You know that’s the normal time they begin their mornings during the week, usually when you hear them up and moving around, getting ready to go work out. That’s usually when you roll over and go back to sleep for another hour and a half before your own alarm gets you up for breakfast. 

You pout a little as you set your phone back on your nightstand, reaching down to grab your book and set it next to your phone. You lay back down on your bed, turning off your lamp and bathing the room in darkness. Well, it’s not totally dark. The light from the lamp outside shines in your window, casting cold shadows across the walls and floor. You’ve never been a fan of total darkness. You’d grown used to having some light in the room at The Institute. One of your roommates had insisted on having a nightlight, and there were many nights you were grateful for it as you laid awake at the mercy of your racing mind. 

A nightlight. 

You add it to the mental list of things you want, but you’ll never feel brave enough to ask for. 

Your alarm rings too early in the morning, your hand lifting to silence it quickly. 4:30 am doesn’t feel like a real time as you rise in darkness, hand fumbling for the switch to your lamp. You glare into the dimly lit room, trying to blink the sleepiness from your eyes. How desperately you want to curl back up under the blankets and sleep until someone knocks on the door to check on you because you’ve slept so long into the day. 

You don’t doubt Price will knock in about 30 minutes to get you up. He’ll be disappointed if you ignore him, you think. He wouldn’t punish you if you went against his wishes, would he? 

You don’t know that. 

You haven’t even thought to push that boundary, nor have you discussed it. You don’t want to. You’re a good omega. 

You’re a good omega. 

You repeat it over and over as you get yourself ready, splashing cold water on your face to wake yourself up. You silently thank Kate as you pull on a pair of cargo pants and hiking boots, assuming that’s what Price means by “something meant for the outdoors.” Had she bought the items in anticipation of something like this happening? You are on a military base. You should have expected you’d be pulled into something like this eventually. 

You’re debating on a jacket by the time the knock comes, right at 5 am. You wonder how long Price has been standing in the hallway, or if he’s perfected arriving right on the dot after years of expected punctuality. You decide on the jacket after checking the weather, slipping it on as you open the door. He hadn’t mentioned needing anything, not that you own any sort of supplies for the outdoors anyway. 

He doesn’t say anything as you open the door, instead motioning with his head to follow. You quietly close your door, expecting the others to be waiting for you, but their doors are all closed and they’re nowhere to be seen. You feel slightly nervous as you follow Price out into the cold morning air, glad you decided on the jacket as your breath steams from your lips. 

Price is dressed in his usual boots and cargo pants with a cargo jacket and a beanie instead of a bucket hat. There’s two packs leaning against the side of the building, Price grabbing one and approaching you. 

“What are we doing?” You ask quietly as he helps you put on the backpack, buckling it across your chest. 

“Going for a hike.” He says, putting on the other backpack. 

“Why?” You ask as he turns on a flashlight, handing it to you before turning on another one for himself. 

“I’ll explain when we get there.” He says simply, motioning for you to follow him. 

You hesitate for half a moment. A hike in the dark? The base is surrounded by forest, but you sometimes forget due to the sprawling nature of the buildings, and your usual ventures outside the barracks being to either the mess or the medical center, all of which were central on the base. 

Why does he feel the need to hike in the dark? Surely it’s more dangerous, especially for someone not quite so physically inclined like you. If he wanted to go on a hike, why hadn’t he just said that to begin with? Maybe he would have, had you asked why last night instead of just immediately agreeing. 

Going into the woods alone in the dark with an alpha you barely know. 

Anxiety twists in your stomach for a moment before you force your feet forward, walking fast to catch up to him. He leads you down one of the roads on base, your boots crunching as the ground changes from asphalt to gravel. Your anxiety doesn’t lessen any as the trees loom high above you in the darkness, the forest like a black void before you. 

Your brain thinks up all the land predators that might exist in England. Do they have bears? You’ve seen Brave, but that’s in Scotland. What about big cats like cougars or mountain lions? Are there racoons in England? 

You’re on a military base, you think. Surely they have means to keep out large predators that might be dangerous. 

Your pack won’t let anything happen to you. 

Dr. Keller’s words float through your mind as you follow Price through the underbrush and into the trees. You’re not following any path, at least that you can see, though your experiences in the outdoors have been very limited since you left home. Your dad liked to camp and hike, and often you and your siblings were subjected to his weekend and holiday trips into the wilderness. 

You missed them in the early days at the Institute. You missed a lot of things back then. 

“What’s eating you back there?” Price asks as you weave through trees and underbrush. 

“There’s nothing...dangerous out here...is there, sir?” You ask, narrowly avoiding taking a branch to the face. “Bears or mountain lions?” 

Price chuckles. “The worst thing you might find is a stray badger or a snake that got through the fence somehow.” 

“Oh.” You say, shining the flashlight around you. “That’s good.” 

Price stops, turning to face you. “You’re fretting.” 

“Well, we’re in the woods in the dark at an ungodly hour and you won’t tell me why, sir.” You pout. 

“Do you trust me?” He asks, staring down at you with a hard look in his eyes. 

You stare up at him, your grip tightening on the flashlight in your hand. “Should I trust you?” 

He straightens up a bit, the corner of his lips twitching. “That’s something you have to decide.” He turns back around, starting to walk again. “All I can do is my best to try and prove myself to you. In the end, you’re the one that decides if I’m trustworthy or not.” 

You’ve never thought of it that way. He could do everything in his power to get you to trust him, but in the end it is your decision. He hasn’t proven you wrong yet, but then again...it’s only been a week. You’ve known him for a week and you’re following him through the woods alone in the dark. 

Your brothers would have a fit if they saw you right now. 

“Do you trust me?” You find yourself asking as you continue to trek through the woods, narrowly avoiding hurting yourself on various occasions. 

“You haven’t given me reason not to.” He answers, turning his head slightly to look at you over his shoulder. “I’d prefer it stayed that way.” 

“I don’t think you have to worry about that, sir. I hardly think I’m much of a threat on any term. Well, at least I don’t think I am. Ghost seems to disagree.” 

Price lets out a quiet huff, shaking his head. “Simon...Simon is a unique case. He’s good at his job, but that makes it hard for him to succeed in other areas. I’m sure Johnny has told you how much Simon couldn’t stand him at first. Now look at them.” He chuckles warmly, almost fondly. “He only sees you as a threat in your nature.” 

You frown, glancing up at the sky. It’s beginning to turn grey with dusk, the trees seeming to come alive around you in the dim light. “What do you mean by that, sir?” 

“You’re an omega. To bond with an omega, there is a degree of vulnerability required by the alpha. Being around omegas requires an openness that can be frightening if you’re not used to it.” He explains. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but Simon isn’t the most open man.” 

You snort quietly. “Hadn’t noticed, sir.” 

Price chuckles at your answer. “You’re threatening to him, because you’re a challenge. Give him time. This entire situation is an adjustment for all of us, just as I’m sure it is for you too.” 

You don’t know how to respond to that statement. It is an adjustment. Joining any pack was, but a pack like this...a pack that has you tramping through the woods at 6 am for a reason you don’t even know yet is a major adjustment. 

Price stops after the sun has come up, taking a moment next to an outcropping of rocks. He clips your flashlight to your bag before unzipping it, passing you a bottle of water. You take it gladly, your mouth feeling dry after walking for so long. 

“How much further?” You ask as he drinks his own water. 

“Quite a ways.” He answers. 

“Can I know why we’re doing this yet?” You ask as he zips your water back into your backpack. 

“Not yet.” He says, continuing onward.

You let out an exasperated sigh, but follow him anyway. You don’t have much of a choice. 

Your legs are beginning to get tired, and you’re starting to feel a bit hungry. You’re not sure if you should say anything, or if he’d even stop. You assume he’s packed food, or at least you hope so. You’re going to get grumpy if you’re traversing all over the forest for hours with nothing to eat. 

Price slows his pace a bit as you approach what you think is a clearing. You can see a break in the trees ahead, the sun coming through brighter here. You’re sore and tired, your phone telling you you’ve been walking for just over two hours. 

How big is this base?

You break through the treeline, finding a small clearing with what looks like a fire watch tower in the middle of it. It’s not what you were expecting, the many scenarios of why you had been dragged out of bed at an ungodly hour and forced to hike through the woods you’ve been thinking up the last two hours, did not end quite like this. You stare up at the tower, your head tilting back to take it in. 

“Not scared of heights, are you?” Price asks, standing beside you. 

“Maybe.” You answer, eyeing the staircase winding around it to get to the top. 

“Come on.” He says, nudging you forward gently. “Up the stairs.” 

The last thing you want to do after walking for two hours is climb a never ending staircase, but you don’t think you have much of a choice. Perhaps you can finally sit once you get to the top, and maybe you’ll even get to eat. 

Price follows behind you as you take the steps, climbing slowly. Your legs are screaming, your feet aching in your boots. You wouldn’t be surprised if they’re bleeding a little, or if you wind up with blisters. You’re breathing heavily by the time you get to the top, sweat beading on your brow. Price doesn’t even seem winded behind you, and you’re sure he could have jogged up the steps if he wanted to. 

The top of the tower is mostly empty except for a small table and two chairs. There’s no windows, the tower open between the railing and the roof. Price sets his bag on the table, unzipping it. You sink into one of the chairs, letting your bag drop to the floor. 

“Can I know why we’re here now?” You ask him. 

“Drink some water and take a breath first.” He says, pulling a couple packets out of his bag. MRE’s. 

You dig your bottle out of your bag, taking note of the other contents inside. A few snack bars, a couple MRE’s of your own, another unopened bottle of water, and a book. There’s things in the other pockets but you don’t bother looking, guzzling down more water. 

You stand from your chair, your legs almost buckling in protest as Price gets the MRE’s cooking. You lean against the railing, looking down over the forest that stretches out as far as you can see below. 

“Can I know now?” You ask, knowing there has to be a good reason for him to bring you out here. 

“A training exercise.” He says finally. 

“A training exercise?” You frown, turning to look at him over your shoulder. It wasn’t a training exercise for you, was it? 

“Sometimes when we get a specific target on a mission, the only thing we have to go off of is a general location and a scent.” He explains. “We have to be able to track that scent effectively, sometimes for miles. We run training exercises out here to test their ability to track scents to hunt down a target.” 

You stare at the sprawling woods, beginning to understand. “So, they’re hunting a scent that will lead them here?” 

Price chuckles lowly, his hands coming to rest on the railing on either side of you. Your stomach flutters as he leans in close, his scent strong in your nose as his breath fans your ear. “Technically, they’re hunting you.” 

Your knuckles go white as they grip the railing, your blood pulsing in your veins. You’re well aware that some alphas like to hunt their omegas. There’s some primal urge deep within your brains to chase and be chased. You’re well aware of how it usually ends, the thought making your stomach clench. 

“You gave me the idea.” Price says, the warmth of his body radiating through your jacket. “When you asked to watch them train, I saw how you affected them, I thought...maybe you can be useful for their training afterall.” 

“Do they...do they know it’s me?” You ask as he steps back from you. You fight the urge to whine at the loss of proximity. 

“They do now.” He says with a smirk. “They’ve already started, so if they can follow your scent successfully, then they’ll be here in about an hour.” He says, looking at his watch. 

You frown a little. “But...we walked for two hours.” 

He smiles a little, pointing to a break in the trees below you hadn’t noticed until now. “That trailhead is a 20 minute hike back to base.” 

Your frown deepens. “But-” 

“We weren’t walking in a straight line.” He explains. “We doubled back and recrossed the trail several times to try and confuse them, just as someone running from them would do.” He passes you one of the MRE’s. “That’s what I want you to do, if it ever comes to it. You don’t fight unless you have no other choice. You always try to run first.” 

“Yes, sir.” You say, sitting down again. You don’t think you’d do much damage fighting anyway, but you don’t tell him that. 

You open the package, peeking at the contents. Some sort of potato hash, you think, but you don’t really care. You’re so hungry you’ll gladly eat the mystery re-hydrated food. Price sinks into the other chair with a quiet sigh, digging into the food. It’s quiet out in the woods, the only other sound besides the two of you the sounds of birds. 

You’ve always loved the woods, the quiet serenity of such isolation. You could imagine Price living in a log cabin miles from civilization, with animals and his own garden, happily living in quiet peace away from the stresses of life and war. You blame the fluttering in your stomach on the lingering thoughts of a chase, of a hunt. The thought of running, trying to evade soldiers who train to hunt others by their scents has goosebumps forming on your skin. 

They’re not from the cold either. 

The sun has disappeared behind clouds, the grey weather of England quickly becoming normal to you. You haven’t seen the sun much since you landed in London two weeks ago, and you’re sure you’re not going to see much of it for quite a long while. 

“What’s got you all twitchy over there?” Price asks, breaking the silence. 

You turn to look at him, your mouth open a bit in surprise. “How can you tell?” 

“I’ve been trained to notice small details, sweetheart.” He says, grinning at you. “Your fingers always get fidgety first. Like you’re looking for something to do with them. Usually they disappear beneath your sleeves, or you start picking at your clothes. Your scent changes too. Subtly, but still noticeable.” 

Oh god. You wince a little bit. He can still smell you, even outdoors in an open area. 

“Your eyes start to move, looking all over the place, like you’re searching for something, or trying not to stare at one place too long.” He continues, making you want to sink deeper and deeper into the chair until you disappear. Of course he can read you like a book. They all probably can. “Your breathing always picks up, fast enough it’s noticeable if you’re paying attention. It’s easy to set you off too, sweet little thing.” 

Warmth floods your face at his words and his stare, the back of your neck prickling. You meet his gaze across the table, the look in his eyes making you feel like you want to crawl under the table and hide. You hate that he can read you so easily. You won’t be able to hide anything from him. 

He probably knows you already have. 

You continue to hold his gaze, not backing down despite the intense tickling at the back of your neck. Touch alphas like a challenge, you repeat it over and over in your head. 

Don’t back down. 

Don’t back down. 

Don’t back down. 

A quiet growl rumbles through his chest, a shiver shooting down your spine so violently it nearly steals your breath. You fight the urge to bear your throat to him in submission, your head tilting back just slightly as your eyes squeeze closed. You’re panting, warmth pooling in your stomach as he chuckles lowly. He’s won, he knows it. You were never going to win. Nature was set against you. Your nature is to submit to him. 

“Innocent little thing, aren’t ya?” He says, pulling a cigar from one of his pockets. 

You know he smokes, you know they all do. You’ve smelled it on them many times, and it was to be expected. Your father hadn’t started until after he joined the Marines. Your mother hated it. “Dirty habit.” She always whispered as she smelled his uniform and the laundry he brought home from deployment. 

He could have had worse ones, you always thought. 

You can’t help but watch his lips curl around the cigar, the scent of tobacco permeating the air. His eyes are still on you, your own lips tingling a bit. You think back to how close you had been with Soap, inches from having your first real kiss. You regret it a bit now, not letting him kiss you. He wouldn’t have known he was your first, except perhaps by your awkwardness. 

You wonder how many times they’ve all been kissed. You wonder how many times they've kissed each other. You wonder how many barrack bunnies Price has been with, how many other omegas he’s been with. You can’t imagine Ghost being one for barrack bunnies, but then your mind sinks somewhere deeper. Ghost in his mask with an omega bent over the side of his bed, his hand wrapped around the back of their neck... 

Another shiver runs down your spine, your lower body beginning to pulse in time with your heart. 

“What’s going through that head of yours?” Price asks, still staring at you. 

“Soap almost kissed me a couple days ago.” You admit, not trusting yourself not to admit to the other things you’re thinking about. 

Price’s brows lift in surprise. “Did you not want him to?” 

Want. There’s that word again. You keep hearing it, but you’re not entirely sure what it means anymore. He’s asking to be sure that Soap didn’t force you into anything, even though you can’t imagine the beta doing such a thing. Betas usually weren’t aggressive without good reason, not like alphas. 

“Well...no, that’s not it...” You say, your face burning as you begin to regret your choice of topic. “I...I haven’t kissed anyone before...well, not like a real kiss. At The Institute, there was this omega, she was...progressive. Nothing they tried could break her of that and she got into the heads of a few other omegas. One of my bunkmates decided she didn’t want an alpha to be her first kiss, so...I volunteered.” 

Price continues to stare at you, a dark look in his eyes. You know some alphas like to watch omegas together. You’ve seen it in movies, things your brothers would put on when they were babysitting, things that would have gotten them hit over the head if your father found out. 

“Is that so?” He finally says, flicking some of the ash from the end of his cigar. “Not even a real kiss before you presented?” 

You shake your head. “No. I was...the weird kid in school. Most people considered it social suicide to be around me.” You let out a sarcastic laugh. “I bet quite a few of them are kicking themselves now.” 

“Why didn’t you want Soap to kiss you?” He asks, concern lacing his voice. He’s still wondering if he needs to have a long chat with the young Sergeant, or perhaps take other action. 

“Well...it wasn’t so much that I didn’t want it.” You say. “I just...thought you might be upset...if you weren’t my first...” You swallow nervously at his stare. “Since you’re pack alpha...you have the right to claim-” 

“I wouldn’t care.” He cuts you off, almost as if he’s uncomfortable with the idea of him having all the rights to claim you. As if he was uncomfortable with the idea of holding a claim over someone else. “If you want your first kiss to be with one of the others, then you shouldn’t keep yourself from what you want.” 

His words echo Dr. Keller’s. It confuses you, their willingness to allow you to want. You’re an omega, you don’t get to want. You get told what to do, what to wear. You get told what to want. You don’t make decisions, you sit and be a good omega for your alpha. 

“I don’t know what I want.” You say quietly. 

“Think about it.” He says, stubbing out his cigar. “I won’t be upset. Makes me feel a little better, in truth. Makes me feel less like an old creep trying to steal your innocence.” 

You try not to smile at his words. “I mean...you are, in a way.” 

He tsks at you but his eyes are playful as he checks his watch. “You’re trouble. We’ve got a few minutes before the hour is up. Let’s see if they can beat it.” 

You stare out at the treeline, taking deep gulps of the cool air to try and calm yourself as you wait for the others to arrive. You’re still tingling a bit from your conversation with Price, that slight tickle still crawling across the back of your neck. You want him to hold you there, feel his calloused skin against yours, feel the strength of his fingers as they press into your skin. You want him to take all the turmoil away, the fear and the insecurity and the confusion. 

You want to kneel for him. 

You’re saved from your thoughts as a familiar figure breaks through the treeline, big and hulking and wearing a skull on his face. You’ve never seen him in this mask before, only ever seeing him in his balaclava. It’s a haunting image, only his eyes visible as he looks up at the top of the tower. Soap and Gaz appear behind him, the three of them making for the staircase. 

Their boots echo on the steps as they race to the top, Soap the first one to appear with a wide grin. 

“Aye, we found the target!” He exclaims, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you into the air and spinning.

You yelp, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and hang on for dear life. He smells like musk and sweat, and you can’t help but wonder if they ran here. He sets you back on your feet, your legs aching in protest after sitting for too long. The soreness of your morning hike has caught up to you, and you’ll be feeling it for a few days. 

“Not bad.” Price says, looking at his watch. “For the first time with a new scent.” He grabs his backpack, slinging it over his shoulders. “Come on, let’s get back and you can have the rest of the day off.” 

You let out a whine in protest as Price grabs your backpack, gaining the attention of the four men. “You mean we have to walk back too?” 

“It’s not even a kilometer.” Gaz says with a grin. 

You pout. “I don’t know how far that is! I already had to walk for two hours this morning. My legs hurt.” 

“You didn’t stretch before you started?” Soap asks. 

“No! I didn’t know we’d be hiking halfway across the country when I was told to get up at 5 am!” You continue to pout. 

“Come on, you’ll survive.” Price says, clipping your backpack across your chest again. “You can sleep for the rest of the day.” 

You definitely have blisters, the sides of your feet burning as you walk down the stairs. You’re going to take a very long shower when you get back to base, and then crawl into bed and sleep until someone inevitably knocks because they’re worried about you. You’re still pouting, not having even thought about how you were going to get back to base. 

Soap stops at the bottom of the steps, turning to glance at you behind him as he bends down slightly. “Hop on, hen.” 

It takes you a moment to conceptualize what he’s doing before you break out in a grin, putting your hands on his shoulders to hoist yourself onto his back. His hands grip the backs of your thighs as you wrap your arms around his neck, holding on as he carries you piggy-back style. 

“I’ve lifted weights heavier than you, bonny.” He says, not seeming to struggle at all with carrying you. 

“Well, omegas are supposed to be small.” You say, leaning your head on his shoulder. 

“Aye, like a wee bairn.” Soap laughs. 

He carries you all the way back to base, barely even breathing heavily by the time you break the treeline. The rocking motion of being carried, along with your exhaustion, has lulled you into a daze, your head leaning against his as you desperately fight sleep. 

You’re jostled awake as Soap gently bounces you on his back. “We’re back, hen.” 

You grumble sleepily, holding onto him tighter. “Comfy.” 

“You’ll be comfier in bed, love.” Gaz says, stroking your hair. 

“Carry me.” You murmur, both of them freezing. 

“You sure about that, hen?” Soap asks. “You wan’t tae let us in your space?” 

“Mmm...yeah.” You murmur, nuzzling Soap’s shoulder. 

You miss the silent conversation between them in your half asleep state, the way Gaz’s hand hesitates on the knob, their slow, cautious steps into your space. It was a big deal, infringing upon an omega’s space. It’s sacred. One could only enter with permission, or if it was an emergency. Infringing on that space without permission could be detrimental. 

Soap gently lowers you onto your bed, helping you curl up on your side. Gaz unties your boots, setting them on the floor next to the bed before pulling off your socks. He lets out a quiet hiss as he spots your raw and blistered feet. 

“That’s going to hurt later.” He whispers. “No wonder she didn’t want to walk back.” 

“Didnae say nothing either.” Soap says, his fingers trailing your cheek. 

“Stubborn little omega.” 

Gaz’s words are the last you hear before you’re lost to sleep, your brain forcing you to give in to your exhaustion finally. 

It’s knocking at the door that wakes you. You’re not sure what time it is, or what planet you’re on. Your eyes are crusty with sleep, your pillow damp from drooling. You’re in your bed in the barracks, tucked under a blanket. You vaguely remember giving Gaz and Soap permission to enter before you were out again. 

It’s still daylight, judging by the light around the edges of your curtains. Or maybe you had slept through the day and it was morning. You can’t tell, feeling a bit like you were hit by a bus and jumped dimensions. 

“C’mon lass, ye got tae eat at least one meal today.” Soap’s voice calls through the door. 

You let out a groan, pushing yourself up to sit. You haven’t even changed or showered, but your shoes have been removed. You flex your toes, wincing at the sharp pain from them. You pull the blanket off, staring down at your bandaged feet. They must be as blistered and raw as they had felt in your shoes. You don’t want to get up. You’re going to be sore and probably walking with a limp. 

You know what they’re going to think. 

The stares you’ll get. 

Soon it will be for that reason, though, you think. Why not let them think it now? Then maybe by then they’ll be used to it and it’ll be much less mortifying for you. 

You get up, padding barefoot to the door. You open it, rubbing at your eyes. “What time is it?” Your voice sounds rough with sleep, your tongue feeling heavy. 

“Almost 1800 hours.” He answers. “Price let ye sleep. He and Gaz already ate. Had something tae take care of.” 

You let out a quiet groan as you rub your eyes. You slept all day, past lunch and nearly past dinner. You likely would have kept sleeping, had they let you, but then you’d be up at an ungodly hour having to scrounge for food in the rec room. 

“Get some shoes on.” Soap says. “We’ll get food in ye, then ye can sleep more.” 

You let out a quiet grumble but do as he says, grabbing your most comfortable pair of shoes before following him out of the barracks. You let your hand slip into his, the base less populated on the weekend. The mess is still busy, though, most of those that stay keeping their schedules even over the weekend. 

Soap helps you make your tray before finding Ghost sitting at a table. You deposit your tray across from them before going to grab something to drink. You look over the options, your sleep-drunk brain trying to decide on what you need. 

“I recommend coffee.” A voice says behind you. 

You spin around, looking up at a familiar face. Your stomach twists nervously, the back of your neck prickling. It’s the soldier that had been staring at you your second day on base, the one Ghost had scared off with his glare. 

“You look like you need it.” He says, giving what you assume is supposed to be a friendly smile, except to you it looks like the grin of a hungry wolf in a storybook, and you’re the injured rabbit about to be devoured. You flinch just slightly as he holds out a hand. “I’m Corporal McKinney.” 

You don’t want to take his hand, you don’t want to touch him at all. Catcalling you could handle, the stares and the whistles were nothing. None of them have been so brave as to approach you before now, and you’re starting to realize you prefer it that way. 

An overwhelming scent suddenly washes over you, the prickling at the back of your neck intensifying. It’s rich and deep, the scent of leather and gunpowder lacing the ozone-like tang of anger, of danger. 

“Can I help you, Corporal?” The deep voice rumbles behind you, the warmth close enough all you’d have to do was lean back slightly and you’d be touching him. 

The soldier’s eyes lift from you to Ghost behind you, the wicked gleam to them fading as he stares down the giant alpha. “No, sir.” The soldier swallows thickly. “Just thought I’d introduce myself to the new omega on base. Figured we’d be seeing a lot of her around.” 

“She’s no concern of yours.” Ghost says, a dangerous rumble vibrating at the edge of his voice. “You were given the briefing.” 

He hesitates and you know he’s measuring the risk of staying, of saying something else. It’s not just the threat of a dangerous alpha, but also of his superior. “Of course, sir.” He finally says, eyeing you once more before he turns on his heel, leaving the mess. 

“What do you want?” 

You turn on your heel, staring up at Ghost. You’re shaking a little, staring up at him wide-eyed. You no longer feel the haze of sleep, wide awake and alert. Ghost is staring down at you, his scent far less prominent than it had been before.

“To drink.” He motions to the selection, waiting on you to answer. 

You stare at the options, your brain trying hard to snap back into the present, to comprehend what you’re looking at. You’re on edge, on high alert after that confrontation. 

“W-Water please.” You manage to stutter out, 

“Go sit back down. I’ll get it.” He says, turning his back to you. 

You scurry back to the table, still trembling as you take your seat again. You’re getting stares, likely from the change in your scent. It’s alerting every alpha and beta in close proximity, their instincts reacting to the scent of fear, of an threatened omega. 

“Ye alright, hen?” Soap asks, giving you a worried look. The scent of beta washes over you, Soap projecting his scent to try and cover yours and calm you all at once. 

You nod, trying to swallow the panic before you alert the entire mess to your current emotional state. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright.” 

Ghost returns with a glass of water, setting it in front of you before taking his seat again. 

“Thank you.” You murmur, taking a long drink of it. It’s ice cold, the sensation shocking you back into reality a bit. 

You’re still trembling slightly as you eat, the back of your neck still prickling. You glance around the quickly emptying mess, eyes following every person that walks too close to the table. You know you’re safe. Soap and Ghost would make quick work of anyone who tried anything. 

Ghost did make quick work of the alpha that had approached you. 

You’re still in a bit of disbelief that Ghost had come to your aid. You remember the anger burning in his scent, the rumble at the edge of his voice. An alpha poised for a fight. Of course, you were being cornered by another alpha. You don’t doubt Soap could have easily won that fight if he had to, but an alpha had the natural advantage in a fight against other alphas. If it had been a beta cornering you, would he have still come to your aid? Or would he have watched and let Soap handle it? 

You're drawn from your thoughts as Soap’s phone rings, and he dismisses himself from the table to answer it. You wonder who it might be. Family maybe? Price? You wish you had someone that would call you regularly. You will, once they start leaving you. 

You’re left alone with Ghost, your eyes trying to look anywhere but at him. He takes your tray once you’re done, going to dump it before motioning for you to follow. You’re still a bit shaken, though you’ve managed to get your trembling under control, as well as your scent. 

He leads you back towards the barracks, your pace faster to keep up with him. Your feet hurt, but you’re eager to get back to the familiar safety of the barracks. 

You stop as a whistle sounds through the air, Ghost’s steps faltering as well. 

“Gonna go spread your legs for that freak, bunny?” A voice calls out across the courtyard. “I’m sure I could offer you a better time. At least you’ll be able to see my face.” 

The smell of ozone washes over you again, burning straight to some primal part of your brain. You’re not sure if it’s the exhaustion, or the emotions still reeling from your confrontation in the mess, but you turn on your heel, stalking over to the group of soldiers. You’re trembling again, but not out of fear. The anger has gone straight to your instincts, burning hot through your veins. 

The soldiers laugh as you approach, the one that had spoken grinning vilely at you. “Gonna take me up on my offer, omega?” The sound of your title from his lips nearly makes you shudder in disgust. It’s wrong, it sounds wrong being said in such a way. “I’d love to bend you over and stare at that sweet ass all night-” 

It’s not until your hand is throbbing that you register what happened. The soldier stumbles back a step, hand moving to his face. Your hand is balled in a fist, knuckles throbbing from the punch you delivered to his face. The next few moments seem to move in slow motion, your body pushed backwards as a hulking form comes to stand in front of you. The scent of ozone is still burning hot in your nose, anger pulsing through your body. Your ears are ringing, your hands refusing to unball from the fists they’ve closed into. You’re breathing heavily, eyes training on a small speck of mud on the back of Ghost’s jacket. 

“-You even so much as look in her direction again, I’ll rip your intestines out, tie them to the back of a humvee and drag you all the way to London, understood?” The dangerous rumble is back at the edge of his voice, his own hands balled into fists. 

“Loud and clear, sir.” The soldier spits out, massaging his face from your punch. 

A rough hand closes around your arm, making you stumble as you’re half dragged towards the barracks. You’re breathing heavily, breaths coming in gasps as the flood of emotions through you grows to almost be too much. You’re led down the hall towards the rec room, Ghost pushing you inside. 

“Sit.” He snaps, pointing at the couch.

You scramble to sit where he pointed, your brain beginning to move in autopilot as you cradle your throbbing hand to your chest. It’s still curled in a fist, the adrenaline pumping through you preventing you from uncurling your fingers. You try to steady your breathing as Ghost digs around in the fridge for a moment. You flinch as the door slams closed, Ghost dropping an ice pack on the coffee table before he takes a seat next to you on the couch. 

He grabs your hand, pulling it towards him rather roughly. He forces your fingers to uncurl, his own rough fingers digging into your hand, poking and prodding. He moves your fingers, bending your wrist and moving your arm. “It’s not broken.” He says, grabbing the ice pack and slapping it across your knuckles. “Luckily.” 

You’re still trembling, your hand lifting subconsciously to hold the ice pack in place. You feel dazed, not unlike you had earlier when you’d been pulled from sleep, only this time you can feel the emotions still pulsing through you. The remnants of anger, the disgust, the fear both from attacking an alpha, and the reprimanding you’re sure you’re due for doing such a thing.

“I shouldn’t have done that.” You murmur, feeling far away, outside of your  body looking in. 

“Probably not.” Ghost says. 

You turn slightly to look at him, pupils dilated as you simultaneously appear to see him and look straight through him. “Price is gonna find out.”

Ghost nods again, the burn of ozone gone from his scent. “He’ll believe you, though. Anything you tell him, he’s going to believe you over what anyone else says.” 

You stare at him, the skull mask from earlier gone, leaving him just in his balaclava. His eyelashes are blonde, you think as you take him in, trying to ground yourself. His skin looks soft, but that could just be the omega screaming at you. You expect him to get up, to leave you alone until you find the will to move, or one of the others finds you. Yet, he stays where he is, eyes focused across the room as you sit there. 

“You’re a purebred alpha.” You say, breaking the silence with the thought that had come to mind earlier. You need to keep talking, to keep your mind steady while you relax. 

“How did you figure it out?” He asks, not denying it. 

“Your scent.” You say, recalling earlier in the mess, the way his scent had permeated your entire body. You hadn’t just sensed it, you had felt it. His emotions, his anger, the hint of desperation for the Corporal to make the smart decision and walk away. “It’s different from other alphas. Price smells good and I’d like to roll around in his scent, but yours hits some deep primal part of my brain.” You say, turning slowly to face him. “Makes sense you’d end up in a position like this. You’re supposed to be like, an apex human.” You laugh quietly. “Just a couple of purebreds. What are the odds?” 

“Very high.” He answers. 

You laugh again. “Yeah, I know. Both of my parents were purebreds, and my grandparents. Both of them came from a long line of purebreds.” Your brows pinch into a frown. “I didn’t see it in your file, though.” 

“I don’t want it to be.” He explains. 

“Makes sense.” You say. “If I’d had that choice I’d have it left out too. As soon as someone sees it, that’s how they measure your worth. It’s not about you anymore, it’s your status they want.” You lift the ice, moving your fingers. Your hand is sore, your knuckles starting to swell a bit. 

“It’ll bruise.” He says, staring down at your hand. 

“‘Spose it could have been worse.” You say, grimacing at the ache pulsing all the way to your shoulder.

“Yeah,” He scoffs. “You could have broken your arm with a punch like that.” 

“‘S not my fault the CIA didn’t teach me much.” You murmur. “They mostly made me run.” You remember the hours and hours you spend running circles around the gym. So many circles, over and over again. 

Get involved in their hobbies. Your brain flicks through that section of the book, an idea beginning to form in your head. You’d considered it a few days ago, when you first read that chapter. Ghost speaks in violence and warfare, fighting and defending. How do you bond with the apex of humankind? 

“Teach me to fight.” 

His eyes shift slowly until he’s looking at you. You wish you could see the rest of his face, read his expression. His eyes don't give you much to go off of, something he'd likely perfected over the years. 

“Or, at least defend myself.” You continue, fighting the urge to shrink back under his gaze. “I know, Price already told me to run first, but what if that's not an option? Am I gonna throw a shitty punch and hope it works? Aim between the legs and hope I'm faster than they can block? I promise I won't go around trying to fight asshole alphas.”

He continues to stare at you, his eyes locked on yours. Your heart thuds in your chest, your stomach twisting nervously but there's no challenge in his gaze, not even a playful one like you'd initiated with Price. He's simply staring. 

You wonder what he's looking for, what he's thinking. Will he laugh at you for asking? Tell you to ask someone else? Get Price to do it since he’s actually your alpha? 

“Fine.” He grunts, breaking eye contact first as he pushes himself to stand. “We start Monday. Early.” 

A small smile tugs at your lips as you watch him leave the rec room. You may have just found your way into Ghost’s heart, or at least a way to get him to tolerate your presence. 

Monday. Early. 

You’ll be ready. 

NEXT ->

Taglist Part 1:

@bobaprint, @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @hanellokey @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash @ghostlythots @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @thychuvaluswife @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @bisky-business @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @cadotoast @linaangel @rancid-wasp @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows @puppyel @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10

[giannaln4]

GIANNA'S KINKTOBER '24 SEASON

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Kinktober day five.

Thigh riding (1k words)

summary: Lando is too busy to help you relieve what you are feeling, but he lets you take care of yourself on his thigh.

warnings: NSFW, +18, smut, MDNI, needy!reader, bit of mean!lando

It was a quiet day in your shared home, but not the type you enjoyed. You were both home, and today was supposed to be your designated lazy day, given that Lando didn’t have a race coming up this week and you were taking a few vacation days to be with him. 

However, something related to work always dragged Lando into his office; you were just hoping that wouldn’t happen this time. But it did. 

You were in your room, bored out of your mind, trying to find something to entertain yourself with — anything, but nothing would work quite as well as your boyfriend did. After realising you wouldn’t find something on your own, you decided to join him in his office.

When you opened the door and came in, you made sure to be as quiet as possible to not disturb whatever was so important it couldn't wait another day. He was supposedly going over some important emails regarding a new helmet design for one of the upcoming races.

He looks so good when he is focused, you thought, and the fact that he was only wearing a black tanktop and matching shorts didn’t help your growing needy state. 

You knew that what he was doing was important and that some of these things had to be done by midnight so the design could be approved by the sponsors in time, so there is no way he was stopping. You were very aware of that, but you also needed him. 

Lando started feeling a little too cocky as he realised how needy his girlfriend was feeling, so maybe there was something he could do. Maybe not helping you as you were hoping, but a little teasing could be fun. For him, at least.

“Are you okay in there?” He asked after you shuffled on the couch for the millionth time since you got there. 

“Are you almost done?”

“No, baby.”

“But I need you.” You blurted out, not caring how pathetic that sounded. 

“Not now, Y/N. Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Please, I’ll be quick.” You begged. 

He didn’t even look at you, and he was trying hard to suppress that smirk that was threatening to appear on his face. Lando maintained his composure and acted like he was considering it, even though that was his plan all along.

“Fine, but you will take care of it.”

“What? I don’t wanna play with myself-”

"You can ride my thigh," he said, interrupting your failed attempt to seduce him. Your heart completely stopped when you heard those words come out of his mouth. 

“What?” You asked, and Lando simply repeated himself.

“I said you can ride my thigh. This is the best you will get, so make up your mind. And no touching, sweetheart.”

You made your way to where Lando was sitting, admiring the way his exposed thighs looked in those shorts. You would have said no and tried to beg for more, for him, but like Lando said, that was the best you were gonna get with how busy he apparently was, so you decided against it.

You slowly sat on his lap, placing your centre on his right thigh. Lando didn't even look at you; he just raised his eyes over your shoulder to keep working on his computer, making it clear to you that he meant it when he said you would take care of it.

Shyly, you started rolling your hips, eyes closed as your mouth let out soft moans every so often, but as the pleasure began increasing, so did your pace. 

Damn, he couldn’t deny how absolutely beautiful you looked riding his thigh, and as much as he tried to block out how needy he was starting to feel, he failed miserably. 

You hands gripped his shoulders for stability, but eventually they slowly travelled down his torso, finding the hem of his shorts. The plan was to slide one of them into his boxers and help him with his hardening cock, but he immediately stopped you, slapping your hands away and placing them back on his shoulders. 

“Stop. No touching, remember? Just take care of yourself.” You nodded and went back to work.

As you continued grinding him, he could feel his thigh covered in your arousal, filthy wet, and slick noises echoing through the small office. You left wet kisses on his neck and shoulders, your lips letting out more and more whimpers when he didn’t stop you as soon as you started devouring his thick neck, moaning even louder when you noticed him swallow hard. 

Lando tried his best to focus on the words in front of him, but having you being a complete mess literally on top of him made it hard, and it made him hard. It took his full strength and self-control to ignore his painful length and not ask you to take care of it like you tried a few minutes ago, but that somehow made it hotter for him.

You were getting close, and the sounds that left your mouth were making less sense, his name slipping out a few times, and just as he knew you were reaching your high, he couldn’t help it anymore, so he dropped everything and gripped your hips, guiding your movements.

“That’s it.” His forehead was damp with sweat, and there were a few strands of hair sticking to it, a single drop of sweat rolling down the side of his face. Lando’s touch made you feel more electric as he helped you quicken your pace, desperate for a release. “Come on, baby,” He whispered, making you give in.

Your entire body was shaking as your nails dug into the soft skin of his shoulders, gradually stopping as you tried to steady your breath.

“Good job. You can go now,” he said in a serious tone. You struggled to get back on your feet, but as soon as you did, your eyes went straight to Lando’s thigh, glistening in your arousal.

↺ back to navigation — Kinktober masterlist

[starkeyisthelastname]

okay y’all, we are jumping into this. pornstar!rafe makes a big decision. ⭐️ (thank you to my bae @oceandriveab for her request and being so patient! 💖 )

He had quite literally fucked you to sleep after storming off set all because he couldn’t get his dick up because he had you on his mind. He knew the decision he had to make and that was one he never thought he would ever do and that quit filming professionally. Even if he hadn’t opened up to you much at all, and he was terrified of confessing his feelings to someone he only had ever fucked, he couldn’t continue on with this career because his addiction was now you.

You should have known better than to answer the door because as you woke up the next morning with a sore body, an empty bed and no sign or explanation from Rafe. You should have expected this and him telling you he couldn’t work anymore because he couldn’t get you off his mind was a bunch of bullshit. He told you from the start he loved pussy too much to ever quit, and you should have stopped falling for him right there. You may been acting on high emotions, but you picked up your phone and began texting him.

Rafe’s phone had been on silent when he had met with his agent and manager. He flat out told them that he was done and they laughed, an amused look on both of their faces. The ‘pussy slayer’ was retiring at 30? There was no way. Everyone knew how much he loved pussy, I mean.. what else was he gonna do? Even if he hadn’t told you much about him, or knew much about you, he knew what he felt for you was enough for him to find a new purpose in life. He knew he said he needed to take baby steps because this was all new to him, but he was tired of the jealousy he constantly felt, the way he couldn’t get you off his fucking mind. He had to show you how he felt and then would let everything fall into place after, it could have been a reckless decision but he didn’t care.

‘I don’t expect a relationship with you, but when you come to my house and tell me that I’m yours just to dip off without any explanation is bullshit Rafe. I can’t do these games with you anymore. You wanna focus on work so bad. Fine. So will I.’

You had blocked him after you sent it, whether it was right or wrong. You didn’t want to, in fact it hurt you to think about Rafe not being in your life. What hurt worse though was how this man had ruined you to the point he never left your mind, that every time he shot a scene with someone else you were filled with nothing but jealousy, and that you couldn’t continue on knowing he would constantly feed you this shit so that he could get a nut in a few times a week. Your insecurities were becoming overshadowed by fear, because you had no idea what Rafe had just done.

You had a feeling you knew who it was by the heavy knocks on your door. You didn’t want to answer and you wanted to tell him to go away. Your own body betrayed you as you began walking over to the door to answer it. He better have a damn good reason on why he was here after his little Houdini act he pulled.

“You wanna block me now?” Rafe asked, stepping through the door without another thought.

You shrugged, arms crossed over your chest as you challenged him. “Why does it matter Rafe? I should have never got my feelings involved with someone who only cares about fucking on camera and getting money from it.” You told him, avoiding his gaze. Maybe it was your own fault because he didn’t know exactly how you felt, but he certainly didn’t make it easy for you. When he whispered sweet shit in your ear it made you feel like you could tell him that you were falling for him. It would then reel back to you being afraid of rejection because he would disappear, or talk about how he loved his career too much to ever quit.

“Do you even know what I was doing? I was firing my agent and my manager because I told them I was done fucking doing porn.” He said, causing your eyes to meet his.

You didn’t believe him. There was no way the man who was obsessed with sex and couldn’t even give you a real reason on why he became a pornstar in the first place had really quit. You laughed, did he really think you were that dumb? “You are lying. You’ve hit an all time low if you think that you can tell me something like that just to fuck me again.” You said with a scoff.

Rafe did a lot of punk shit to try and hide his feelings from you, but this wasn’t something he would joke about. He laughed, shaking his head. “You think I’m lying? I fuckin quit because I love you!” He said, blurting it out before he stopped himself. It was like once he said it, he couldn’t stop the rest from flowing as he continued on. “You don’t understand how hard this is for me! This career is the only thing I have had that has made me feel worth something because I fucked everything else up in my life. This is what made me feel invincible and that I could be somebody. I don’t have anyone else because everyone pushed me away due to my choices. Then I meet you and I don’t even fucking know you, but I feel this insane connection that absolutely terrifies me. It scares me the way I feel about you, and that I really should be taking baby steps. I.. I just can’t though. I don’t want to fuck this up like I did everything else, but… I am fucking in love with you and fucking random girls on camera just to get money isn’t worth losing you over.” He told you.

This was the first time Rafe had ever truly been honest with you and you could read it all over his face. You swallowed the lump in your throat as he stepped closer, taking you by the hands as he pulled you closer. “Let me show you.” He whispered in the softest voice you had ever heard him use. You didn’t know what he meant by that, but there was no way you were turning him away.

No matter how much you loved the brutal sex the two of you shared and we’re sure there was more of that to come, this was an entirely new feeling you both were experiencing. He was being gentle with you for the first time, pouring every ounce of confusing emotions and feelings he had into you. He had you in a deep missionary position, his toned hips grinding into yours as he buried his head in your neck. “You are so goddamn beautiful.” He whispered in a breathy groan.

His cock somehow felt 10 times bigger when he went slow and it was throwing you off at how good this fucking felt. Tears streamed down your face much like the first time he had ever fucked you, but for an entirely different reason. You overwhelmed by love, clinging onto him life a lifeline as you were afraid to let him go. He had ruined you for any other man and right now you were perfectly fine with that. “Rafe… you feel so fucking good..” You whimpered, your eyes rolling back at a little as his tip kept brushing over your g-spot.

Rafe groaned into your smooth skin, his lips traveling across your collarbone and across your jaw line until he met your eyes. He knew he must have really been in love with you because he had never made love and didn’t know he was capable of such a thing. He knew his nasty side was inevitable but he really was determined to show you that he was serious about this.

“Yeah baby, say my fuckin name. That’s yours to say. All yours… my sweet angel.” His words firm but genuine as his lips ghosted over yours. The way you made him feel was better than any drug or any career, and he knew no matter how scary this was for him, you were his girl without a doubt.

The tears flowed even more as he said that, your eyes falling into his ocean ones as his cock explored every inch of you. Your lower tummy fluttered and head spun as you felt an insane orgasm approaching. “Rafe… you’re gonna make me cum. Please don’t stop.. please.” You nearly begged him, manicured nails digging into the skin of his back.

Rafe had always prided himself for being able to go many rounds before cumming. He was so overwhelmed with love, that he knew he was wasn’t going to last long. “I’m not baby, I fuckin got you. Yeah? Cum all over my cock.” He whispered against your lips before pulling you in for a deep kiss.

You couldn’t help but sob at his words, trying your best to focus on the kiss as your orgasm started to take over. You screamed his name, not caring who heard, as this moment was way too important. You shuddered against him, wrapping your legs around his waist to trap him in as his thrusts started to get sloppy. He didn’t know what you had done to him, but he found himself going back to whisper in your ear as he started slowly coming undone. “I’m gonna fuckin fill you up baby, this is all for you..” He breathed out, voice rugged as his nuts tightened and eyes rolled back at your cunt still squeezing him in.

Rafe’s groans were sweet music to your ears as his seed warmed your insides, this time followed by a gentle raspy voice whispering against your skin. “I love you..” He told you, the butterflies hitting your belly and your face breaking out into a beautiful smile.

“I love you.” You whispered back.

Rafe hadn’t said that to someone or heard it back since before he had lost his family. This was the first girl he had ever felt this way about and while the two of you may have been jumping into something that was unclear and had a lot of questions that needed to be answered, he knew this was all worth it.

[nadvs]

cam girl (part twelve) (end)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning alcohol use

summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.

» masterlist

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

Rafe realizes his hands are shaking as he rereads your text.

His eyes keep going over your words, standing up off his bed and pacing around his room just because the adrenaline won’t let him stay seated.

Why the fuck are you doing this to him?

i’m done. this is over. i’m not even a fucking person to you am i

Hot anger bubbles inside his chest. He immediately texts you back: what the fuck do you mean

Minutes pass. You don’t answer.

Rafe: ?????

Again. No answer.

Rafe: dont ignore me

He can’t take it anymore. He taps on the Call button. It rings and rings and rings. He texts you again.

Rafe: answer me

Finally, you respond: i dont need to listen to you. leave me alone

This has to be a cruel joke. Yet again, you’re cold to him out of fucking nowhere, after he thought you had a good time together.

Rafe recalls this morning, to the worried look on your face when you saw his black eye, making him think that maybe you see something of value past the wall he built around him.

He risked his pride by telling you that he always thinks about you, and now you’re done with him?

He texts you again: why are u acting like this

Thank fuck you respond.

You: i guess the slut got bored of you first

His body goes cold. He knows you’re referring to what one of his friends said. You heard that?

If that’s why you’re so pissed off, he needs to talk to you about it in person. He grabs his car keys and rushes out of the house.

Rafe is pounding on your door for so long that his hand is starting to hurt almost as much as it did when he threw those punches last night.

He feels himself teetering on the edge, getting close to the manic state he knows and hates.

He pulls his phone out to text you: open the door

You: ??? i’m not home

At this point, he sees red. He could break his damn phone if he didn’t need it right now. He calls you again, his jaw clenched so tight that it hurts.

His stomach tightens when the dial tone stops after two rings.

“Am I gonna have to block your number?” you say when you answer. The sound of a crowd and loud music buzzes in the background. He clues in that you’re at a party.

“Where are you?” he asks, head hanging, staring at the hallway floor.

“That’s none of your business.” He can hear a slur in your words.

“Are you drunk?”

“I can drink if I want to. I know you love to think you own me, but you don’t.”

Rafe swallows hard, shaking his head, squeezing his eyes shut. He heard your voice shake. Fuck. You’re crying and it’s his fault.

“Where are you?” Rafe repeats. “Let’s - we need to…” He’s stammering, anxious and unbalanced. “We need to talk… I swear, I’ll fucking wait here until you come home if you don’t tell me where you are.”

Your back is against a wall, the phone pressed to your ear. The room is loud and humid from all the bodies crammed together into one house.

You hate that you’re crying over him and you hate that he can hear it. As if his ego needs the boost.

“Why?” you finally ask, voice strained, hoping he’ll tell you what you want to hear. That there’s a part of him that cares about you.

Rafe is silent for a moment.

“Which one is it?” His chest is tight. He can’t say it now. Not over the phone.

“Neither,” you reply, then hang up. You know he’s just horny and possessive and mad. And definitely bluffing.

You shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t, but you take another shot. Time melts away from you as you get lost in the music with your friend, determined to get Rafe and his drama off of your mind.

It’s half past one in the morning when you order a cab. The alcohol has almost worn off at this point. Someone spilled a drink on you and you just want to take a shower and sleep. You have to promise yourself that you won’t give into the impulse to wear Rafe’s shirt to bed.

You exit the elevator and your heart stops when you see Rafe sitting on the floor, his back against your door, his knee raised, his head slumped.

He meant it. He waited. For over three fucking hours.

When you get close enough for him to hear your footsteps, Rafe clambers up to stand, towering over you. His eyes sweep over your face, the blue in them even more prominent in contrast to the dark bruise over his right eye.

Even though your heart, the traitor, is thumping with desire, the ache of what he did to you is louder. It was barbaric, what he said about you. What he let his friend say about you.

“Why are you still here?” you say as evenly as you can.

“You can’t…” Rafe shakes his head, frustrated. He immediately notices you’re not wearing the necklace he gave you and his chest aches. “You can’t end this.”

“Watch me,” you say with a scoff, nudging past him. You feel him behind you, hear his shallow breaths. You unlock your door and pull out your keys.

He won’t move. You turn to look at him again, feeling your lips thin in aggravation.

“Rafe,” you state. “Please. I just want to shower and sleep. Go home.”

“No,” he says stubbornly.

“Why can’t you just go find another girl to fuck around with?” you say, raising your tone.

He almost feels nauseous hearing you say that.

“Are you worried you won’t find one who does everything like I do?” you ask. “I just can’t say no, right? That’s what you told your friends.”

Rafe looks down in shame, nostrils flaring. His lips screw up in anger. He has no words to offer.

“Go home,” you repeat. You’re sure he’s just upset about losing his favorite booty call, just so not accustomed to not getting what he wants.

Rafe doesn’t budge. You’re sober enough to know you can’t continue this conversation in the hallway and risk your voices carrying into your neighbors’ homes.

Frustrated and embittered, you turn your doorknob and accept the fact that he’s not leaving without a fight.

You turn on the dim overhead light and stand in your tiny kitchen, facing Rafe with your arms crossed, as the door shuts behind him.

He steps towards you, hands sliding up your arms before he leans down to try to kiss you.

“Stop,” you mutter, shoving him off, pushing him away.

He tries again, putting his palms on your cheeks.

“No,” you snap, driving him away harder.

Rafe feels hollow. Lost. He’s fine with showing anger. It’s second nature to him. But this? This tangled feeling of yearning feels impossible to verbally express to you.

“Why?” is all he can sputter.

“I’m not letting you use me anymore,” you say through gritted teeth.

Rafe had no idea you’d react like this over the moronic shit he and his friend said. He thought you were fine with how things were. That you were detached.

Despite the rage and anxiety consuming him, the fact that you’re this angry over this ridiculous idea that you’re not a person to him, that you maybe want to be more, makes hope bloom in his heart.

“It’s not like that,” Rafe says.

“It is,” you argue. “I’m done acting like I’m okay with it. I could handle it at the beginning, but…”

You sigh. You can’t give him the satisfaction of telling him you have feelings for him. You start to get choked up again, though, your body betraying you. You can’t hide what he does to you from him anymore.

“I’m done,” you say resolutely. This man is nothing but trouble. “My contact picture in your phone is a fucking nude. I’m just body parts to you and I respect myself too much to keep this going. Just leave. You won’t change my mind.”

“I can’t… I can’t not see you anymore,” he grovels.

“You’re just mad you won’t be able to brag to your buddies about what I let you do to me.”

“No.” Rafe brings the heels of his hands up to his eyes, looking so damn flustered. “I’m not mad about that. I… Fuck, it’s…”

“What about when he called me a slut to run through? You laughed. After he said something so fucking horrible about me-”

“Wait,” he snaps, tone rising. “Just wait. Let me talk.”

“Then talk,” you say sharply, shocked by his audacity to be the angry one here.

He takes a deep breath.

“When he called you that, I…” Rafe rakes his hand through his hair. “It’s how we always talk and I - I know that’s a shitty excuse, but I didn’t have the balls to tell him to shut the fuck up. And then last night…”

He vaguely gestures to his black eye. His mind replays the rage he felt when he heard the vulgar words used to describe you. The way his fist met his friend’s jaw. Rafe walked away with a swollen eye, but it was nothing compared to what he had inflicted.

“He said something about you and I beat the shit out of him like I should’ve the first time.”

“What’d he say?” you ask after a beat.

“It doesn’t matter.”

So, that’s what happened to him last night. You’re almost touched to hear he defended your honor, but the memory of the text you saw on his phone darkens your mood instantly, reminding you of how dispensable and cheap it made you feel.

“This the same friend who texted you about all the bitches at that party?” you say bitterly.

Rafe meets your gaze.

“You saw that?”

“Yeah,” you say. Rafe realizes that was the reason for your abrupt coldness. You were jealous. He hates that he hurt you, but admittedly, the feeling of you being envious over him is so fucking gratifying.

He sighs your name. He didn’t even glance at another girl last night. Why would he? “For fuck’s sake, I texted you all night. I told you I’m always thinking about you.”

“Rafe, you texted me about how all you want to do is hook up with me.”

“That’s not… that’s not all I want,” he sighs, defeated. How can he explain that the way he touches you is how he tells you what he’s feeling? He’s so fucking bad at talking about it.

“Then why did you talk about me like that?” you ask.

“I was…” Rafe begins. He swallows hard, his eyes refusing to meet yours now. “I know I shouldn’t have said that shit but-”

“You’re only saying this now ‘cause you got caught.”

“No, it’s - it’s more than that. I-”

“You were just being honest,” you say with a shrug. “I did everything you told me to and you wanted to brag.”

“Yeah- I mean, no…” he stammers. Your use of the past-tense is so damn hurtful, the implication that you really are through with him, and before he can think to hide it, tears start to gloss his eyes. “Just listen-”

“If I’m just an easy fuck to you, then that’s fine, just own up to it.”

“Let me talk!” he finally shouts. Rafe’s head is spinning. He’s angry and anxious and close to losing his mind.

You don’t even cower, not letting him get to you. But when you realize he’s crying, too, your blood runs cold.

“Goddamn it.” He frantically brings his hands up to his head, fingers on his temples. “I’m trying to tell you that I didn’t know how to- I don’t know how to talk about this fucking feeling you give me.”

“Try,” you say.

Rafe’s breath is shaky, blinking fast as he gazes at you.

“This is more than sex. I’m fucking… I’m falling for you,” he finally admits.

No words come to your mind. The air between you is thick. Your heart is pounding in your ears. Your stomach is numb.

Rafe lowers his gaze, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He’s worked himself up in such a panic.

He doesn’t know how or when you cracked into this side of him that he didn’t even know existed, but you did. And you’re not leaving.

“Are you serious?” you ask quietly through a shallow exhale.

“Do I need to beg you to believe me?” he says.

“Yeah,” you say with a sarcastic huff, pushing him to see where his limit is. To see if he’s being honest.

You can’t believe what you’re seeing when Rafe sinks down onto the floor in front of you, his knees on your cheap linoleum. He takes your hand in his, pulling it to his warm mouth, soft lips kissing your palm.

He realizes he would rather lose all of his pride than lose you.

“Rafe,” you say, the edge to your tone completely gone now.

The shift in your dynamic is harrowing. He’s always the one in control, the one with the upper hand. Now he’s on his fucking knees for you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, eyes locked on yours. “I’m so fucking sorry I said that shit. I’ll never do it again. You’re not just an easy…”

He can’t even say it.

“You’re so much more,” he says. There’s hopelessness in his gaze. You’re rattled with shock, your heart feeling like it’s burning in your chest.

You can’t believe it. You can’t fathom that he likes you more than just from the waist down.

“What if I stopped hooking up with you?” you challenge. “I keep seeing you but it’s nothing physical. What then?“

“That’s okay,” he says, without hesitation.

“I mean no sex,” you say. “At all.”

“Fine.”

You pout at him in endearment as relief pools through you.

Rafe is racked with the deepest form of desperation. He can’t picture a day without you. Without your smile, your humor, your voice, your smell. He fell off the deep end and there’s no fucking saving him.

Your stare is puncturing him. He’s sure he fucked up too massively to earn any sort of chance with you ever again.

But when you finally lean down to press your lips onto his, euphoria rushes through his entire being. He frantically scrambles to stand, feeling his face contort with disbelief and gratefulness and a yearning so hard that it hurts.

Rafe’s kisses are deep but fast, his big hands cradling your head, thumbs rubbing over your cheekbones.

You pull back, looking up at him with a tiny shred of remaining suspicion that he’s not being genuine.

“Let me stay the night,” he says, voice low, lids heavy. You’re unsure that he really means he’d be with you even without the sex.

You only look at him.

“I won’t try anything,” he adds. He knows you needed the reassurance. You stare at him with wide, vulnerable eyes, resting your hands on his firm, heaving chest.

“Shower with me,” you tell him, restless to wash the night off of you. “And prove it.”

Rafe nods, your face still in his hands. Fuck, he feels like you have him wrapped around your finger. He’d do anything to keep you in his life.

“Let me do the work,” he says.

You step back, heart racing, and raise your hands over your head. His fingers quickly find the edge of your top, slowly lifting it and pulling it off of you. Your jeans are next, the denim sliding down your legs.

Rafe presses against you, leading you backwards into your bathroom. His lips press against your forehead as he unhooks your bra and lets it fall to the floor.

He’s on his knees again as he peels your underwear off. You watch his eyes trail up your bare body. He can’t hide the lust in his stare, no matter how hard he tries.

As you turn on the shower, you hear the rustle of him taking his clothes off. When you step into the tub, you feel his body against your back. Big hands skim up your arms as you turn the faucet, prompting hot water to rain down on both of you.

Rafe can’t stop himself from asking.

“Did you talk to any guys at that party?” His voice echoes against the porcelain, loud even over the sound of the shower.

You smile to yourself.

“How am I gonna focus on another guy when you’re texting me so damn much?”

“Princess,” he huffs. You laugh and turn in his arms to rest your hands on his shoulders.

“No,” you tell him. “I didn’t want to.”

Rafe smirks and leans down, but stops an inch away from your lips.

“Am I allowed to kiss you?” he asks.

“Hmm… fine,” you tease. “But that’s the farthest you can go.” He captures your lips in his, his mouth warm. You feel him grow against you and you pull away to look down, his cock already almost fully hard.

“Okay, I can’t control that,” he says. You meet his eyes and share the first laugh that you’ve had together tonight.

You pick up your body wash and hand it to him. It’ll drive him crazy to touch you like this and not be able to do anything about it.

“You get my body,” you say, admittedly excited to tempt him. “And I’ll do my hair.”

Rafe’s forehead crinkles in concentration as he squeezes the body wash into his palm. Your eyes are on him as he lathers the gel over your shoulders first.

“You’re cute when you’re focused,” you giggle, starting to massage your shampoo into your hair.

The sound of your laugh, the aroma in the air is so fucking nice to him. It’s so you.

His palms move up and down your arms in gentle circles. Rafe’s groin is getting tighter by the second and the fact that he won’t get any relief for it is agony. But he needs to prove himself to you.

“You ignoring my tits on purpose?” you ask.

Rafe cocks his head in mild irritation. Touching you there will only make him harder. You exhale in pleasure once his hands rest on your breasts, gently kneading.

“You can’t make those sounds,” he says, voice strained.

“I can do whatever I want,” you reply. His hands dip below the curves of your tits. You purposely moan louder than you normally would just to torment him.

His jaw tightens as he collects more of your body wash to smooth down your stomach. His hands slide over your hips, the water and soap making your skin extra slippery, and he lands on your ass.

“Massage me a bit there,” you tell him. He huffs an aggravated chuckle, then starts to rub into your flesh.

The crook of Rafe’s neck is at your chin as he leans to massage you and you plant a gentle kiss on his wet skin. The gesture makes his stomach twist with adoration.

“Okay, that’s enough,” he mumbles, running his hands up your back. You can feel him against your leg; he’s fully erect and pining for you to touch him.

“My ass is still sore,” you groan, continuing to lather the shampoo onto your hair. “You were so rough on me in front the mirror, remember?”

The memory of fucking you on the floor in his room makes his arousal skyrocket even higher. He exhales and smooths his hands over your ass again.

You tilt your head to the side as you moan. You feel Rafe’s mouth press against your exposed neck, then he grunts against your skin and moves away abruptly.

“Getting frustrated?” you whisper.

“No,” he lies.

The hot water continues to ebb down your body as Rafe squeezes your ass.

“You can get my legs now,” you mumble. He’s half-relieved, half-frustrated to have to move his hands.

Rafe rubs in circles over your thighs, his breath heavy.

“Get on your knees so you can reach everything,” you say as you wash out the shampoo from your hair. You’re testing him, ordering him around like he usually does to you, seeing if he’ll crack.

When he kneels down, you hike your leg up onto the tub, your middle inches away from his face.

“Fuck,” he breathes, wishing he could just taste you. His hands are sliding down your calves as he gawks at the beauty between your legs, knowing you’re purposely tempting him.

His eyes trail up to your face. He looks ravenous for you.

Falling for you. He said he was falling for you.

“What?” you say with a smile. Rafe only shakes his head, continuing to run his hands over your legs.

“I said kissing is allowed,” you say, revelling in this feeling of control over him.

He doesn’t waste a second. His lips are against your pussy immediately, kissing you over and over. If you tried to keep count of how many kisses he was planting on you, you’d fail in seconds.

Arousal twists deep inside you, wanting him so badly, but loving the game you’re playing.

His lips wrap around your clit and he starts to suck, prompting you push your fingers through his hair, damp from the shower, and tug to pull him off of you.

“Kisses only,” you say. “Unless you didn’t mean what you said?”

“I did,” he huffs. He roughly shoves your wrist away to get close to you again, lips puckered. You feel his fingers ghost over your inner thighs, then pull apart your lips.

“Can I spread you open, baby?” he asks.

“No,” you respond.

“Please,” he begs.

“Kisses. Only.”

He groans. You laugh.

“You got me so turned on,” you moan. “I need to just…”

You slip your fingers between his mouth and your clit, denying him any more access.

Rafe thinks this could be thing to that finally makes him lose his fucking mind. But he stays still, knees aching from the hard tub, as you play with yourself right in front of him.

“That feels so nice,” you whisper, your knees weak. You put your other hand against the shower wall, looking down at him.

“Hold me up,” you order. He grips your hips and watches you moan and writhe over him, dipping your head back.

You dip a finger inside of you, tightening and sighing.

“Fuck.” He literally whimpers the word.

“God, there’s so many things I can think about while I touch myself,” you moan. “Like when we fucked in your car? Or when I squirted on you?”

“Which time?” he mutters, trying to have any sort of power right now by reminding you of what he can do to you.

“Aw,” you coo. “Is this like when I’m on camera? You can watch but you can’t touch me?”

“Shit,” Rafe breathes. You moan, the water dripping off of you.

He has to look away at this point. His cock is so hard that it hurts. His eyes go low, seeing a bead of precum on his swollen tip. He tries to comfort himself by thinking about how he can jerk off later.

“Get up,” you say. He brings himself up on his feet, towering over you again.

You turn your back to him again and start to rub your scalp to make sure you washed all the shampoo out.

“You’re probably cold on that side, hmm?” you ask.

Rafe’s temperature is the least of his concerns.

“I’ll keep you warm,” you tell him, looking over your shoulder. You run your hands down your body and pause over your ass, spreading yourself open.

“Put your cock right here,” you tell him.

“I- I can’t,” he moans.

“You can,” you encourage.

He kneels to place himself right where you want him. You let go, your asscheeks hugging him, feeling his length pressed up against you.

“Fuck,” he whispers, twitching against you. “This is… fuck…”

“If you didn’t mean that you can be with me without the sex, just say so.”

“I meant it,” he says. “But this is torture. I need to go. I’ll wait for you in your room, okay?”

“You can’t keep it together for me?” you tease. “I thought you liked me.”

“I fucking love you,” Rafe groans, making your heart flutter.

You’re done playing this game. You need him now.

You turn to face him, pulling him down with your hands cupping his neck to kiss him. He’s biting your bottom lip, kissing you hard.

“We don’t have to do this,” he whispers breathlessly.

“I want to,” you say against his lips, wrapping your hand around his cock. “What do you want?” He bucks up against you, groaning.

“I wanna fuck you,” he pleads.

“Then fuck me.”

Rafe’s rough and fast as he hitches your leg up, pushing you to lean against the shower wall. He lines himself up at your cunt, stretching you so much nicer than your fingers ever could.

He keeps his eyes on you when he thrusts into you, his expression both needy and satisfied.

“Thank you,” he whispers. The feeling of him thanking you for letting him be inside you hits you like a drug.

Rafe is in heaven. You squeeze him so fucking good as he rocks in and out of you. He needs to make you cum before he does. You deserve it. You deserve all the pleasure in the world.

When he starts to rub his thumb over your clit, you’re trembling with bliss. Everything in this moment feels so damn good.

“You’re my girl,” he mumbles, his usual possessive side back now. “Say it.”

“I’m your girl,” you respond. “Fuck… I love you.”

Rafe is sure he has never felt happier in his life. His thrusts get harder and faster, and with the pressure on your clit and the hot water coating your body, you whine through your orgasm.

To him, it’s a gift watching you reach your peak. You clench around him in rhythmic flutters and he can’t hold back anymore, his cum gushing out of him so fucking hard that he sees stars.

This is the best sex he’s ever had. Because now he knows it’s more than just something physical for both of you.

He kisses you hard as his body trembles, pumping into you. His forehead is against yours as you pant together and even though he’s exhausted, he stays inside you as long as he can manage.

When he pulls out, he brings his hands to your cheeks and kisses you again.

“You meant that?” he asks. He needs to know you that really do love him. That it wasn’t a heat of the moment thing. You look up at him, his lips parted, the water dripping down his face.

“Yes,” you say. His dimples are deep in his cheeks as he smiles at you.

As Rafe helps you clean up, he’s pissed at himself that he never did this before. He hates that you had to always do this alone. He won’t ever let that happen again.

Once you’re both lying in your bed, your bedroom dark save for a streetlamp casting a dull light through the window, Rafe holds you tight.

Your cheek is against his shoulder as he surrounds you in his arms. You both remained naked and the feeling of your bare bodies pressed together like this is perfection.

You softly trace your finger over the bruise covering his eye. The one his friend left on him because of something he said about you.

“What’d he say?” you ask.

“I’m not repeating it,” Rafe replies.

“Please?” you ask. “I wanna know what made you go crazy.”

“He said I seem happier lately,” Rafe says. “And before I told him it was because I wanna… be with you for real, he said… he wants to see if he could get…”

“God,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. He doesn’t have to say any more. His buddy wanted a turn with you.

“But hey, I’m not gonna let anyone say anything like that about you, okay?” he promises. “I’ll beat the shit out of anyone who tries to.”

You picture being out in public with Rafe, his arm around you. And you can’t help but ask. You need to know.

“So… are you gonna… want me around your friends and stuff?” you ask.

“Of course,” he tells you, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re my girl, right?”

It’s jarring. You’re not a lower-class maid to him. Not his personal whore. Not his slutty sugar baby. You’re a woman he loves.

Legs tangled, you fall asleep together, and you adore that the worry of falling for him is now gone. Because you’re in love, and so is he, and now you can enjoy him without telling yourself you can’t.

When you wake up the next morning, you shuffle in your position to find him, but you’re alone.

Your heart drops. Could he have been faking…?

You can’t jump to that conclusion. You’re about to check your phone when you hear crinkling coming from the kitchen.

You put on underwear and the shirt you stole from him a while ago before padding into the kitchen. He’s standing over your table, removing containers from bags.

You realize it’s from your favorite nearby bistro. He ordered food for you.

“Breakfast?” you ask. Rafe looks up at you and he doesn’t understand how every time he sees you, you strike him with how adorable you are.

“You hungry?” he says.

You settle across from him at the table. You realize he must have referenced the screenshot you sent him after the first night that he stayed over, when he sent you money to order breakfast and you sent him proof of what you bought.

As you dig into your food, you gaze at him. Blue eyes meet yours. He smirks. It doesn’t feel real. He used to look so out of place in your apartment, but this feels so natural.

“We gonna talk about how much of a cuddler you are?” you tease.

“Shut up,” he laughs. “Eat your food.”

You laugh and continue to chew.

“What do you have to do today?” he asks.

“I should study,” you say. “I was going to last night after work, but you know…”

Rafe looks down and his Adam’s apple bobs with his hard swallow.

“Are you gonna keep working?” he asks. “I don’t want you to. I wanna take care of you.”

As much as he loves seeing you around his house twice a week, he’s been getting more and more uncomfortable with the idea of you having to work so hard, having to clean up after him.

“Yeah,” you finally say. “I think I need to have the independence. To know I’m working for my own money. Does that make sense?”

“With your attitude? Yeah,” he says. You laugh.

You hope the gossip between your coworkers doesn’t get any farther up the chain. For now, you want to keep your job and the steadiness it promises.

“You can’t pull me away from my work to hook up whenever you want, though, okay?” you say.

“Even when I find you in my bed?” he asks.

“That was one time,” you scoff.

Rafe leans over to place his phone in front of you. He has your contact info up. The photo isn’t what it was before, though. It’s a photo of you sleeping, cheek pressed on his chest.

He must have taken it this morning. He wants to prove you’re not just a body to him.

Your eyes study his screen and you smile, oblivious to the fact that he’s staring at you.

But then again, you never really noticed how much he looked at you whenever you came to work at the house.

He can still remember the rush he felt when he randomly found you on that damn website. You were a fucking fantasy to him, a dream that he never thought he’d get to live out.

But here you are and by some crazy stroke of luck, you found something in him worth loving.

Rafe always enjoyed having some sort of ownership over you, claiming you as his. Because deep down, he always kind of knew he belonged to you. Whether you want him or not, he’s yours.

(the end) (continuation blurbs)

author’s note: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE AND SUPPORT FOR THIS SERIES 💘 it’s so bittersweet ending it. i had so much fun writing this and it’s because of your comments and messages 😭 i’ll be writing more fics! if you want updates, please follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications since i’ll be reblogging my work there. love you all!!!

[goxjo]

! 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐟𝐭. 𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚

+ synopsis. you should’ve known better when you reached out to your ex 1 year after your break up to get your stuff back, especially when the both of you have so many unresolved feelings. of course discussions are bound to get heated very quickly, and getting pressed up against the wall was definitely not according to plan

+ cw. no curse au, kabedon, light angst, lots of reminiscing, ex! sukuna, he’s incredibly lovesick and jealous, you and your ‘new guy’ are broken up but he doesn’t know that (yet), lots of pent up frustrations, hatefucking, wall sex, cunnilingus, standing prone bone (?), biting, pet names (babe), making up, creampie, soft ending, 2,100+ words, MDNI

+ aki's note. this is part of @ficsforgaza's kinktober event (again, tysm for letting me join uwu). this is my first time writing sukuna this way and I’m ngl I kinda dig it!! thank you so much for the request @unheavenlypacked and for being so patient <3 ++ I know I went over the word count too but I couldn’t help it :’) hope you like it!!!

+ masterlists. general ┆ jjk ┆ kinktober ┆ ffg kinktober

In hindsight, maybe you should’ve just accepted his offer to drop off your things. After all, it has been a year. You’re almost certain he’s already moved on by now. But you were very particular about not wanting him to go through the trouble, even if he says it’s no big deal.

You should have thought this through.

He opens the door to the apartment you once shared, and you realize a mental note would have to suffice for now. Because of course he just has to be shirtless like he usually is whenever he stays home, body decorated with black intricate lines stretching and scattered everywhere. And you mean everywhere, including places only you and very few others are acquainted with.

He’s as pretty as ever.

To top it all off, he wears that all-too-familiar scowl that frequented his face whatever the emotion — whether he’s happy, sad, angry, or even horny. Something you’ve always found endearing.

You huff a heavy sigh when you realize the last time you saw each other, you were at each other’s throats. A quick mental pinch reminds you what you’re here to do and what you’re not here to do.

You know they lay of the land, you know where everything should be. There’s absolutely no need to delay things. You take one step to the open space to his side.

“If you’ll excu—”

An arm blocks your way and cuts your words off.

“Do you have to?” He lowers his head, face inching closer to yours.

You refuse to meet his gaze, eyes dead fixed on his taut muscles instead. This doesn’t help your case at all. You’re reminded of how much you used to run your fingers across every dip and mound, you’ve practically mapped his body like he’s done with yours.

“It’s about time.” You shift your gaze to the concrete wall before you start to get deeper into your thoughts. “Don’t you think?”

Sukuna clicks his tongue, clenching his fist before dropping his arm, finally letting you pass. He runs his fingers through his hair in defeat, something he usually does out of frustration.

“Suit yourself.”

…

You rummage through what used to be your side of the closet, shocked to find he’d kept all your things tidy. Like you never left.

“Find everything?” He comes up behind you close enough, you’re certain you’ll bump into him and areas you shouldn’t be. He runs his knuckles along the small of your back, a sense of hesitation in his touch sending shivers down your spine. Even now, this man has very little regard for personal space.

“Almost.” You lightly twist your body, enough to make him withdraw his hand.

Sukuna leans on the edge of the closet as he watches you empty out your belongings.

“So this new guy…” He gestures to the air. “Jo… Joso— what’s his face—”

“Choso,” you correct him. Your brows furrow upon realizing one of your shirts is nowhere to be found.

“Yeah, whatever,” Sukuna snickers. “How’s— uh… how’s that coming along?”

“You really care to know?”

“Fuck no.” Sukuna answers hard and fast, almost spitting to the air.

“Then don’t ask.”

Suddenly, you think to reach behind one of the neatly folded stack of clothes, and you hear him cuss under his breath. And lo and behold, you find your old, worn out, fitted shirt - one that used to make him absolutely go crazy when you wear it.

“Wonder how this ended up there?” Hooked on your finger, you wave the garment around while a guilty Sukuna looks away.

“Fuck.” He clicks his tongue, mumbling. “Can’t even imagine you wearing that in front of him.”

“Wha—” You jolt back, taken aback by his words. “Why do you even care?”

“You seriously going to ask?!”

You blink in disbelief, unable to wrap your head around what you’re hearing.

“You seemed to have no problem when I left, where was this attitude back then?!”

Sukuna jaws clench, taking a deep breath as he throws his head back, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s clearly holding himself back. Slowly, he draws near you, looking into your eyes straight on.

“You told me you fucking needed space.” His voice is low but he emphasizes his words. “But…” His eyes dart to your lips and you don’t miss the way he licks his. “I didn’t ask you to go fuck someone else after 2 whole fucking months!”

“So it’s my fault now?” Your heartbeat thumps against your ribcage as he inches closer and closer to you. “You think I’m gonna sit back after 2 whole fucking months of radio silence?!”

“No!”

“So, then what did you expect me to do?!”

You subconsciously take a step back for every step he takes forward until your back hits the wall.

“I didn’t mean for any of that to happen! I—”

“You what?!”

“Fuck!” he cusses, and the last thing you see is the fist he throws back before you close your eyes and flinch. After that, you hear a thump over your head.

Your eyes flutter open to the sight of him looming over you, arm propped above your head, face just inches away from yours.

His chest heaves.

His eyes are fuming.

And the space is suddenly non existent.

He kisses you so fervently, as if a whole year without you has been torture and your lips are the remedy.

You want to scream at him, pull away and make him pay for what he’s done. The skin on your knuckles thin from how hard you’ve balled them into fists.

You press your knuckles flat against his abdomen, trying pushing him away. But the second your skin meets his, your hands flutter open, roaming his body as you instantly melt into his kiss. It’s ridiculous. This is ridiculous. It’s like you hadn’t just been on a rampage telling him what a big ass he is for how he treated you.

Your hands instinctively try to cup his face but are quickly caught by his, pinning them above your head.

Sukuna pulls away, making you whine at the abrupt separation. Your eyes are drawn to his lips like a moth to a flame. They look shiny from the kiss, and you try to lean forward but he’s got you nailed to the wall.

“Are you being serious right now?” You utter, putting a dirty smirk on his face. “Let me go!” You try to wriggle free off his hold. “Need to wipe that fucking smile off your face.”

Sukuna scoffs. He uses one hand to hold both of yours in place while he cups your chin, thumb glossing over your lower lip.

He takes a deep breath, smug dropping as he scans your face. “I’ve missed you.”

Those words hit the final nail in your coffin. At this point, you know there’s no turning back.

Before you get to answer back, he turns you around, cheek and chest flat up against the wall, entwining his fingers as he presses both your hands on either side of you.

Sukuna grunts, burying his face into your hair as he grinds his erection on your ass.

“Gonna make you forget all about him.”

“Actually, we’re not—” Sukuna doesn’t let you finish, capturing your lips once more.

He lifts your shirt above your tits, smiling in the kiss upon finding you bare underneath. Then he works your pants, pulling them down to your knees, locking your movements.

You hear him shuffling on his knees. You try to turn around but he stops you dead in your tracks. “Keep those fucking hands on the wall.”

Sukuna spreads your ass cheeks open before letting out a hot huff on your pussy. He draws a stripe on your slippery slit, and a moan escapes from your lips.

A soft, wet muscle flicks wonders on your clit, a sensation you’ve missed over the course of a year. You try your hardest not to break but he’s got you so weak in the knees with how good he licks your pussy.

“Sh-it!” You whine. Sukuna sucks your clit and buries his nose in your entrance, making you hold onto the wall for dear life.

A thumb enters your pussy, curling and hooking inside you as his tongue fiddles with your sensitive bud, and at this point you’re a crying mess. He pumps your pussy with two digits as his tongue flicks your clit so fast, you start shaking in your high, doing your best not to fall over.

“Fffuck, Sukuna!”

“God, I’ve missed that sound.”

You catch your breath. The familiar sound of his belt shuffling plays in the background. His pants drop to the floor and you feel his cock spring on your ass.

His wet tip leaves a trace of slick on your ass. His knuckles run up and down your ass as he pumps his cock behind you.

“Oh!” You flinch, mouth forming an ‘o’ and Sukuna chuckles, catching you off guard when he gathers slick from your pussy to lube his cock.

Head ducked, you press your forehead on the wall in your anticipation, feeling your hot breath fan your face as it hits the wall. You’d forgotten how big he is — jaw dropping when just the head of his cock stretches your pussy wide open.

“Sukuna, please— fuck!” Right on cue, his cock slides into you with ease, making you mewl like a kitty.

“Missed your tight pussy, babe.” Sukuna groans as he bottoms out, hand cupping and kneading your tit while he peppers kisses on your shoulder. “Fuck, babe, I’ve missed you.”

“S’kuna~” You tilt your head back and rest on his shoulder, humming his name in a tune that just scratches the itch in his heart and on his cock. “F-fuck me!”

He picks up the pace, practically ramming your body into the wall. His cock feels so good, stretching you out in ways no one’s ever been able to since you broke up. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss this — Sukuna whispering the nastiest nothings in your ear, mouth always preoccupied with yours, your tits, your skin, every part of you, fucking you like it’s always the first time.

“Say my name, babe. Fuck! I’ve missed you so fucking bad.” A hand finds your clit and rubs hard and fast and sloppy circles till you’re creaming on his cock.

“Sukuna! Don’t stop— ffuuck!” Your heart beats out of your chest as he fucks your high. Tears prickle your eyes and you’re reminded of a familiar euphoria — one you’d so painfully missed all year long without his company.

You feel a mix of pain and pleasure when teeth sink into your shoulder. You run your fingers through his hair, grabbing hold of his locks when he fucks you so deep his balls start to stick to your pussy. He releases a low grunt, shoving his cock into you a couple pumps more till he starts to fill your insides.

When his cock slides out of you, and his cum begins to drip from your pussy down to your legs, the realization hits the both of you of whatever the fuck just happened.

“I—” Sukuna breaks the silence, “I want you back. Please? Come back to me.”

You turn around seeing his pleading eyes. You weren’t even sure that was ever possible.

Sukuna waits for an answer, but you kiss him instead of giving him one.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” You wrap your arms around his waist, his softening cock pressing against you.

He lets out a low chuckle, corners of his lips upturned as he pulls you closer to him.

“Also, he and I… we’ve broken up months ago.”

The look on his face is priceless. He definitely feels cheated but that slowly turns into relief.

“You idiot. You could’ve told me that sooner.”

“Sorry.”

“Do me a favor,” he mutters. “Wear that shirt for me, please?”

In hindsight, it was a good idea to do this after all. You’ve got your stuff back, and your boyfriend. Plus it’s back to fucking like bunnies for an entire week straight.

pspsps. reblogs and comments are appreciated ♥︎

[peachesofteal]

Cool Girl

Ghoap x female reader / 18+ / previous

The sunrise stabs under your eyelids with malicious intent.

You don’t have much of a hangover, but your face is still puffy, under eyes swollen. You’ve been crying all night, and it’s painfully obvious.

Not to mention the lack of sleep. The vomit induced by your overwhelming anxiety, the bile still scorching your throat. You haven’t slept more than an hour. You look like the walking dead.

You tried to have a serious talk with yourself around two o’clock in the morning. You told- no you promised- yourself you’d leave well enough alone. You’d put them out of your mind. You’d move on.

They never wanted you. So why are you so insulted that they did exactly what they said they would? You weren’t theirs. You’d never be theirs.

Good enough to keep in bed. Good enough to keep out of sight. But not someone they’d consider theirs.

You’re no one’s. You’re just… yours.

Which is fine. It’s more than fine. You’re cool. You don’t need them, or anyone.

Your hand won’t stop shaking though. It shakes when you turn on the water for the shower, shakes as you try to shave. It shakes through your first cup of tea and then your second, shakes when you curl up the couch and huddle under your blankets, staring blankly at reruns of some laugh tracked sitcom. It’s because you haven’t slept or you’re hungover or something-

And it only stops when your doorbell rings.

You slam your eyes shut. You’re not expecting anyone, and that alone makes you feel like there’s probably someone on the other side of the door that you decidedly do not want to see.

The glance through your peephole confirms your suspicions.

It’s Johnny. He’s standing squarely in front of your door, bouquet of flowers in his hand.

Your head starts to pound, and he knocks on the door.

“I know ye’re home, bonnie. I saw yer car in the garage.” You’re frozen on the other side, separated by a piece of metal and wood that suddenly feels less substantial than it ever has before.

When the lock doesn’t click, he knocks again. “‘m not leavin’ until I see ye.” You groan.

“Stalking me now?” You spit when you open the door and he grins sheepishly.

“Naw...” He doesn’t elaborate and you stand in the frame of the door, trying to block him from peering over you- though it’s no use. You watch his critical gaze take inventory of what he can in your flat, and then he returns his attention to you, holding out the flowers.

They’re tulips. Maybe twenty, twenty five stems, all in a spectacle of color. They’re beautiful, and your favorite.

It surprises you. That they even know that about you. That they would remember a comment you must have made in passing.

It gives you pause. It’s confusing.

“Got these for ye.” He’s… such a boy. A grown man, a decorated military man, a strong man but still… such a boy. He’s never looked more like a boy than he does now, eyes wide and nervous, shifting his weight from leg to leg. He blinks, eyelashes feathery and dark, and you’re left to wonder if he gets it from his mom or his dad. Does he have sisters? Brothers? Nieces or nephews? You ached for those pieces of them, before.

Now, the lingering questions fill you with embarrassment.

He steps forward, and you shrink back. His gaze flickers, and then clears, holding the overflowing bundle of colors towards you.

“Thanks.” You say stiffly, careful to avoid his fingers when you pull it free.

“Can I come in?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He chews on his lip.

“Ye look tired, love. Did ye get any sleep?” You sniff, hand resting on your hip.

“I’m fine.”

“Ye dinnae look fine.”

“Why are you here?” You’re cracking with exasperation, legs going weak. You’re not strong enough to stand here and survive an onslaught.

“Need to talk with ye, like we said last night.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, like I said last night.” You parrot with a irritated exhale.

“Ye know that’s jus’ not true. We need to talk about what ye saw, what ye think ye saw-“

“What did I see? Since apparently you know what I’m thinking now.” You’re too tired for this. You don’t want to do this. You want to crawl back into bed and hide under your blankets.

“Ye think ye saw us with another woman, or on a date, but-“

“I saw your hands on another woman. I saw her smiling at you like-“ you shake your head. “It doesn’t matter what I saw,” he swallows, mouth pressing into an uncomfortable line, “I always knew this wasn’t real, that it didn’t mean anything but-“

“Ye agreed. Ye always said ye didnae want a relationship.” He reminds you sharply, and you nearly swallow your tongue.

“Yeah, I didn’t, so.” The lie is foul on your tongue, rancid and spoiled, but you give it life regardless. Fuck them. You’re fine.

“But yer mad ye saw us with another woman.” He raises an eyebrow, and you never wanted to punch someone so badly.

But instead of a rising tide of anger, you get an overwhelming wave of despair, and tears prick at the corner of your eyes.

“Ah, no, love. Please, please dinnae cry. ‘m sorry, this is such a mess. We never meant for any of this.” Your hand starts shaking again, trembling against the plastic wrapped around the stems, and Johnny’s expression changes from sad to worried. “What’s this?” He tries to reach, fingers grazing the back of your arm.

“N-nothing, I’m just tired.”

“Love-“

“Just… go away.” Your patience snaps, shatters, and his face falls. It almost makes your feel bad.

Almost.

[kwanisms]

Kinktober 「10:14」 — j.wonwoo

» seventeen menu | wonwoo menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ vampire!Wonwoo × fem!Reader wc: 3.8k summary: Y/N has always avoided sex during her period in the past. Not because she found it gross but because her partners did. Wonwoo is different. Wonwoo loves it. Wonwoo also happens to be a vampire so he might be a bit biased. genres/themes/au: angst/fluff/smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, supernatural and horror themes, vampires, mentions of: food consumption, blood & blood consumption (vampire, remember?), periods and menstruation, vampiric powers & abilities; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! kinktober taglist is closed! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.  MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: i've already stated in the smut warnings but if blood bothers you, DO NOT READ THIS. if period sex bothers you, DO NOT READ THIS. This is filthy, nasty, and i don't care lol i've done my part to warn those who don't want to see this. to those of you that do read this, i see you and i'm kissing ur forehead. wonwoo is a vampire, blood does no phase him at all. this is for my bestie Sky cause this is her main ult so, enjoy this, my love! as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), bloodplay (if it makes you uncomfortable, LOOK AWAY. i’m not responsible for your media consumption. I’m warning you now. If anything to do with blood makes you uncomfortable, this fic is not for you!), period sex (again. Look away if you don’t like it.), oral (m receiving, f receiving), fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex (use condoms. Wonwoo doesn’t need to cause this ain’t twilight), use of pet names (darling, baby, etc.), soft dom!Wonwoo, sub!Reader, I think that’s everything but if I missed something, let me know! kinks: Bloodplay + period sex dialogue prompt: ❛❛ Aw darling, I almost believe you. ❜❜

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“Are you sure there isn’t anything else?” your boyfriend asked over the phone. “All I have here are pads, chocolate, sliced pepperonis, and root beer. Do you need a heating pad or some pain relief?”

You let out a soft laugh as you leaned back against your pillows. “No,” you answered. “I have the heating pad and I’ve already taken enough ibuprofen to knock out a child,” you continued. “I just need those things.” Silence fell over you as you adjusted the heating pad that was tucked under your blanket.

“And maybe you,” you added in an undertone. You heard a deep chuckle on the other side of the phone. “Well, let me check out and then once I’m there, I’m all yours, baby,” Wonwoo answered. “Okay, please hurry,” you said as another cramp hit, a sharp pain deep in your abdomen making you wince and whimper in pain.

Wonwoo frowned as he heard you whimper. He hated seeing and hearing you in pain, it made his non beating heart hurt. “Can you open a window?” he asked as he headed towards the self checkout. “Yeah.. I think so. Why?” you asked, confusion in your voice.

“So I can just come in without bothering with the front door,” Wonwoo answered as he started to set his items down, scanning them while holding the phone to his ear. “Jeon Wonwoo, you are not flying into my open window on the twentieth story! You will use the lobby elevator like everyone else,” you scolded. 

Wonwoo held back a laugh as a smirk crossed his face as he deposited his scanned items into a plastic bag. “Unless you want everyone to know you’re a vampire, I suggest you act like a person and walk through the front door like all guests do.” As he finished scanning, he tucked his phone between his ear and shoulder as he fished out his wallet.

“Alright, alright,” he said as he pulled out his card, holding it over the reader until the light blinked and the reader beeped. He slid the card back into his wallet, stuffing it back in his pocket as he grabbed his phone and bag, nodding towards the store attendant and making a move for the exit.

“I promise I will walk through the front door, use the elevator, and walk to your door like every other normal, boring human,” he whispered as he exited the shop onto the sidewalk. “Good,” you replied, sounding pleased. “Let yourself in,” you added quickly. “You know the code.”

The walk to your place was only ten minutes for him from the shop where he’d picked up the items you requested and then some. The thought of flying to your window and entering your apartment that way was even more appealing as he forced himself to walk the same pace as those around him. It would have saved so much time but he did promise.

The elevator ride up was slow but thankfully empty and when he reached your floor, he walked to your door at the end of the hall, punching in the code on the number pad which beeped and he let himself in, opening the door and shutting it behind him.

Your apartment was cool, mimicking the cool temperatures outside over the misty city. He walked further into the apartment after removing his shoes. He walked into the kitchen, setting the bag on the counter and unpacking the things he bought. As he put the bag away, he heard a small whine coming from your room. He walked down to your room in a split second and carefully pushed open the door, peering into the room.

The curtains had been drawn, leaving only a sliver of light coming into the room. The TV was on, some show you weren’t paying attention to playing in the background. On the middle of the bed, wrapped in blankets and surrounded by a small mountain of plushies was a lump which he could correctly assume was you. He let himself into the room, crossing to the edge of your bed and removing his coat which he threw on the chair in the corner.

He gently climbed onto the bed, the movement making your body dip with the mattress.

You turned slowly, looking up at him, only your face visible from a small hole in your blanket burrito. Wonwoo let out a chuckle as he laid down behind you, sliding an arm under your entire body and pulled you back against him. “You feeling okay, sweetheart?” he asked softly.

“I’m fine,” you grumbled but he could tell you felt anything but fine.

“Aw, darling,” he said softly, a hint of amusement to his voice. “I almost believe you.”

After a moment, he felt you shake your head no and he only tightened his grip. “It hurts,” you said in a broken voice. “I know,” he murmured, lifting his head and moving a hand to pull the blanket back to expose your head. “I know it hurts, baby,” he repeated, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. “And you can’t take any more medicine?” You shook your head again.

“I’ve already taken so much. It’s just not working,” you cried softly. Wonwoo grimaced as your body jerked in pain, doubling over. “Let’s get you something to eat,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to the back of your head. “No,” you answered, tucking your head into the blankets. Wonwoo chuckled as he sat up, pulling you into his lap so you were on your back, looking up at him.

“I’m sure you’ll feel better after you eat something,” he said, gently caressing your cheek. “Come on,” he said as he helped you sit up, unwrapping the blankets. You whined as the cool air hit your exposed skin. “You can wrap back up once you get off the bed,” Wonwoo said as he got to his feet, holding your blanket. You scrambled up to join him and he quickly wrapped the blanket around you, enveloping you in its warmth.

“I got all your favorites,” he said as he guided you to the door and down the hall to the living area. You climbed up into one of the stools at the island as he walked into the kitchen, turning on the overhead light. You looked at the spread with wide eyes. “You really went all out,” you said softly.

Wonwoo smiled, walking over to the sink and turning on the faucet to wash his hands. He then moved to open one of your cupboards, grabbing one of your pots, filling it with water and placing it on the stove, turning the burner on. “I was thinking army stew,” he said as he moved to the fridge, peering inside to see what you had, grabbing a package of tiny sausages, a couple eggs, some cheese, and veggies.

You watched as he worked, cutting veggies faster than your eyes could keep up. He added the soup base for the ramen as well as a few other sauce items before adding the sausages, some spam he found in the pantry, fishcake, and the veggies. As those boiled, he cracked the eggs, adding them to a bowl and whisking them with chopsticks.

He added the noodles, cheese and carefully poured the egg mixture in once the noodles softened and placed a lid over it. While it finished cooking, he opened the convenience store tteokbokki, adding the sauce packet and water before placing it in the microwave.

Once everything was done, he moved you to the table, setting up the hotplate before bringing over the pan of stew and setting it down on the hotplate. He finished setting the table, grabbing something to drink and set those down as well before sitting with you. He filled your bowl first before serving himself and you shook your head. 

“You didn’t have to do all this,” you said softly. “I would have been fine with just some convenience store ramen.” Wonwoo smiled as you took a bite, eyes fluttering shut as you enjoyed the taste. “That right there is exactly why I did it,” he said, picking up a piece of spicy rice cake and eating it. “Seeing you happy and enjoying things makes it all worth it.”

After you had your fill and the pan was cleared, you indulged in some chocolate before returning to your room to watch some TV with Wonwoo, curled up into his side. The food had made you feel better but the cramps were back and you kept whining as every contraction made you press your face into your boyfriend’s chest.

Wonwoo kept one arm around you, holding you against him while he watched the TV screen. He wasn’t really paying attention, not when he could hear every little sound of pain you made, felt every time your heart rate kicked up or the jerk of your body as the pain became too unbearable for you.

“You know,” he said softly, rubbing your shoulder soothingly. “Orgasms can help alleviate menstrual cramps.” You lifted your head to look at him through squinted eyes. “I’m just sayin’!” he said with a shrug. You buried your face in his chest again. “Isn’t that, like, gross though?” you asked, your voice muffled. “Is what gross?” Wonwoo asked.

You lifted your head. “Period sex. Aren’t most guys, like, grossed out by that?”

Wonwoo stared at you dumbfounded. Did you really just say that to him of all people?

“Babe,” he said softly. “I don’t know if you know this,” he started. “But I’m a vampire. Blood does not bother me in the slightest.” Your eyes widened comically. “Oh, right,” you said softly. “But like, that much blood? Wouldn’t that send you into a feeding frenzy or something?”

Wonwoo’s laughter resonated around the room as he threw his head back. “I’m not a shark! I’m a vampire,” he replied, chest bouncing as he laughed. “I can control myself a lot more than you think. Vampires aren’t animals. We don’t smell blood and just go feral,” he continued.

Your cheeks burned as he dispelled your assumptions and you suddenly felt very bad about judging him in that regard. “Sorry,” you said softly. Wonwoo pressed a kiss to your forehead. “For what?” he asked. “Unless you’ve dated other vampires, I don’t think that’s something you would rightfully know. I’m not upset, baby. It’s just a silly notion that movies and television have instilled in the populace.”

Silence fell over the two of you, only the sound of the TV playing softly in the background. “I’d like to help,” he said suddenly. “I’d like to help you feel better and if giving you an orgasm helps, I’m not gonna complain.” Your cheeks burned as you processed his words. “Won’t it get messy?” you asked, your voice meek. Wonwoo kissed the top of your head before getting up and disappearing for a moment.

When he returned, it was with a few of your old red towels. Ones you’d stained in the past when dying your hair at home. “I’m sure you won’t mind if these get stained?” he asked. You shook your head, watching him move to set the towels on the bed before he disappeared again, quick as lightning. He returned with a container of wipes which he set on the bed side table.

“Up,” he said as he grabbed the towels. You scrambled up and watched as he placed the towels down, overlapping them. “Put your blanket over there so you don’t get blood on it,” he instructed, pointing to the chair in the corner. You did as he said and then turned back to face the bed. “C’mere,” he said, holding his hand out.

You walked around the bed, taking his hand, letting out a giggle as he pulled you against him, cupping your cheek and pulling you into a soft kiss. “Do you trust me?” he asked softly, lips ghosting over yours. You nodded in response as his hands moved, sliding down to your hips and pulling you towards him as his lips met yours again, tongue swiping over your bottom lip.

Your lips parted, moaning as you felt his tongue slip into your mouth, caressing your own tongue. His hands continued to roam up and down your body, squeezing your sides, the curve of your ass, cupping your chest. You could feel the heat starting to pool in your belly as you felt his semi-hard cock press against your stomach. 

Wonwoo pulled back, breaking the kiss to turn you around to face the bed. His hands fell to your hips, pulling your ass back against his growing erection with a groan. “Get on the bed,” he breathed, lips trailing down your neck to your shoulder. 

You carefully climbed onto the bed, positioning yourself in the middle of the towels as your boyfriend removed his sweater and pants, leaving on his underwear and white tee as he crawled onto the bed. He pushed the hem of your shirt up, kissing your exposed stomach up towards your chest.

You let out a gasp as you felt his tongue swirl around your nipple, his mouth claiming it as he teased the bud. You ran your fingers through his hair, head falling back against the pillows. Wonwoo pushed your shirt up past your chest, his hand stabbing and kneading your breast. He pulled away, tongue and lips repeating the same thing on your other nipple before he had you sit up so he could remove your top.

You laid back against the pillows as he kissed down your chest and stomach. He glanced up at you with dark eyes as he started to tug your shorts and underwear down, discarding them and spreading your legs. The smell of blood invaded his senses as he glanced down, seeing the small string of your tampon. He would deal with that later though.

“If you want me to stop at any point,” he said softly, looking up at you. “Just tell me.” You nodded as he lightly raked his nails up and down your thighs. “Nothing is off limits for me,” he explained. “Blood does not bother me, I’ve told you this.” You nodded once more, laying naked under his heated gaze.

You watched as he grabbed the back of his shirt, pulling it off over his head, ruffling his hair in the process. His red eyes studied you as he tossed it aside. Wordlessly, he leaned back over, licking the tips of his fingers before taking your lips in a searing kiss as his wet fingers pressed against your clit, immediately starting to work against it.

You moaned into his mouth as he rubbed slowly, lightly flicking and pinching your clit. Your arousal had started to pool, allowing his fingers to glide much smoother and faster. Tension started to build, heat rising in your body. Wonwoo pulled back, eyes meeting yours. “I’m going to remove this,” he said, fingers gently pulling on the string of your tampon. “Okay?”

You nodded, keeping your body relaxed as he started to pull slowly, removing the plug from your body. Once it was gone, he threw it in the waste bin between your bed and the side table. His fingers were back on you in an instant, rubbing your clit in a circular motion.

Your eyes fluttered shut as your hips started to move, chasing his fingers. You felt his fingers move lower and lower until they slid inside your cunt. You let out a groan as he curled his fingers, keeping his eyes on your face as he moved slowly, pumping his fingers in and out of you, a soft and slight squelching noise making your cheeks burn.

“From now on,” Wonwoo said as he curled his fingers against your walls again. “Don’t wear tampons around me. Just wear pads.” You couldn’t respond as his fingers moved faster, coaxing your body closer and closer to an orgasm.

Just before you came, he stopped, pulling his fingers out of you. “Wonwoo!” you whined as he smirked at you. Looking up at him, you watched as he brought his blood covered fingers closer to his face. “Here,” you said, trying to grab the container of wipes but let out a gasp as he instead stuck his fingers in his mouth, cleaning them with his tongue instead. “Wonwoo!” you admonished in total shock.

Wonwoo gave you a smile before he maneuvered down your body until his face was level with your cunt. You propped yourself up on your elbows. “No fucking way,” you said but your words fell short as you felt his tongue lick against your slit, a deep groan rumbling from his chest as he tasted your blood. The tip of his tongue dipped into your entrance before sliding up to your clit and you fell back against the bed with a moan as he started to lick, tease, and suck the sensitive nub.

The lewd slurping sounds, coupled with the fact that you were freely bleeding onto his tongue had your cheeks burning from embarrassment but you couldn’t deny it was also extremely erotic in a way. Your vampire boyfriend, who was not grossed out by blood, was more than willing to finger you, eat you out, and fuck you while you were on your period.

To say you hit the jackpot was an understatement.

Wonwoo felt the same way. Being allowed to taste you during this time of the month that you normally kept private from him was intoxicating and he knew that this would become your new normal routine.

You let out a whine as your orgasm drew closer and closer, back arching off the towels as Wonwoo flattened his tongue against your clit. Your hips tried to move, chasing the feeling of his tongue against you but he held you down, instead suckling on your clit until you finally came with a moan of his name, fingers tangling in his hair.

Wonwoo continued to lap slowly at your cunt until you shuddered, tugging gently on his hair and breathlessly begging him to stop. He pulled back and you stared in both shock and awe as his blood covered lips as he licked them slowly, maintaining eye contact with you.

You moaned as you watched him lick as much of the blood from his face as he could until he grabbed the container of wipes, pulling one out and wiping the areas of his face he couldn’t reach. He tossed the used tissue away and quickly removed his underwear, pushing the fabric down until his cock sprang free. He kicked them off the rest of the way before moving between your thighs.

“You don’t have to – hng!” you let out a moan as he pushed into your hole easily, the blood and your arousal mixing together to create the best possible lubricant. Any spasming and muscle contractions your uterus had been in the process of making ceased as his cock filled your cunt in one motion.

Wonwoo didn’t even need to give you time to adjust as your walls welcomed his cock instantly. He started to rut into you immediately, hips giving you a few testing thrusts before he really set into a hard and heavy pace. “F-fuck,” you gasped, nails digging into his back as he snapped his hips against yours.

“Feel good?” Wonwoo asked in a deep voice, a hint of amusement in his tone. You nodded eagerly, eyes rolling back as he started to pound into you, the sound of his skin hitting yours filling the room with an undertone of his cock entering your wet cunt.

“I knew it would,” Wonwoo breathed as he grabbed your thigh, pushing it up so he could angle his thrusts to hit the soft gummy spot that had you crying out in pleasure. He didn’t give a damn if your neighbors complained. He loved it when you screamed for him. When he made you feel so good that you cried out in pleasure.

“We’re doing this every time you’re on your period,” he grunted with effort as he slammed into you. “Gonna fuck you every night if I have to just to keep the cramps away.” Your fingers curled into his hair as you held onto him tighter, the leg that wasn’t being held up wrapping around his waist.

“Won-oo,” you mumbled, your grip on his hair tightening. “M’gonna cum.” Wonwoo pushed your thigh against your side, ramming into you, the tip of his cock barely brushing your cervix as he helped you chase your high, your own hips bucking up to meet his thrusts. “Fuck,” he growled. “Cum for me, baby. Show me out wet you can really get.”

You came immediately, crying out in pure bliss as your walls clenched around his cock as he fucked you through your orgasm before chasing his own. His thrusts grew more erratic, wild and sloppy as your cum and blood mixed, making sloshing sounds as he frantically fucked you. “Ah shit,” he groaned, head burying into your shoulder. “I’m gonna cum, fuck!”

You let out a cry of pain as you felt his sharp teeth sink into the skin of your shoulder as he came, sinking his entire cock into you as his load exploded, releasing a stream of thick milky cum into your bloody cunt. A mixture of the fluid spilled out of you, falling onto the towels under you as Wonwoo sucked from the fresh wound in your shoulder.

He pulled back, murmuring an apology as he licked over the holes created by his teeth. “That’ll heal,” he added as he moved to the other side of your neck, burying his face in your neck. You wrapped your arms around him as he gave you a small couple thrusts, fucking his cum deeper into you. “I’ll help you clean,” he added before you could complain about the mess. “Just let me stay like this for a bit.

Clean up was a lot easier than you expected. Wonwoo carried you to the shower, hopping in with you for a bit and helping you wash off, making sure to wash away any cum that spilled out of you. He then got out, drying off and dressing at lightning speed while you finished. He threw the soiled towels and sheets in the wash, placing new ones down before you got out of the shower.

As he requested, you didn’t put another tampon in, instead lining your panties with the pads he picked up for you as you dressed. You pulled on a sweatshirt and shorts, leaving your bra off. Something comfortable and easy for him to remove.

“You know,” he said as you settled on the bed next to him, wrapped up in the blankets and watching the TV at low volume.

“Just in case the cramps come back.”

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

[bunny584]

OBSESSED: YUTA (PT. II)

A/N: Special grade lover boy finally has you, his dream girl, in his hands. Surely he’ll be able to handle it…right?

S/N: This one is for the anon(s), the Yuuta girlies. I hope this means I get to rush Yuta Phi Alpha next year!! 🤭 (you can read part I here )

C/W: Yandere themes, aged up characters (21+), Mature, 18+

Any minute now.

You should be calling, any minute now.

Yuuta rolls his favorite pair of your underwear into a cylinder.

Even. Perfect.

He tucks it next to the 14 other perfectly even cylinders he’s taken from you.

An impressive collection, considering that it’s been only 3 months since he’s been back from Morocco.

3 months since you eviscerated the barrier between fantasy and reality.

You touched him. You kissed him. His building blocks came crashing down at your feet.

And yet, you still don’t see him.

It’s been torture.

Purgatory.

Falling back into the platonic, easy insteps of friendship. Breathy giggles. Air tight hugs. Feather light kisses.

On his cheek.

Friendly gestures as thin as the air on the summit of Mount Everest.

Leaving Yuuta the same way, every time.

Desperately tugging his cock.

Filling your stolen lingerie with his seed. Marking you. Branding you as his over and over again. In the confines of his quiet, sterile apartment.

Sullied by his lewd coping mechanisms. Babbling your praises day in and day out. The paintings on his walls know you by name.

Because you’re his.

Yuuta has chosen to love you every minute between sunrise and sunset and sunrise again. Ever since his cold met your warmth.

From afar. In the dark. Meticulously crafting the blueprint of your future together. Where you love him, freely. Openly. Without input from your friends or exes.

You need him.

Why else would he be the first person you call after every date?

Agonizing about whether you said the right thing. Or wore the right thing. Leaving a long list of people Yuuta has to take care of.

Not that he minds. He loves helping you.

Beautiful, silly girl.

Can’t you see?

He’s already created a gorgeous life for you two. He’ll give you the stars. The moon. A whole galaxy if you want it.

True, mutual love.

He just has to make you see it.

See him.

“There you are.” Your ringtone is his personal call bell.

Yuuta was starting to think you were going to use your girlfriend’s shoulder to cry on instead of him.

You were supposed to be out on a third date tonight. But you’re not. When it comes to picking up the pieces after your frivolous little flings — Yuuta is always your go to.

“Hey you.”

His palm caresses the heavy bulge in his pants. Tone is steady. Unassuming.

“Yuuta?” Soft sobs intertwine with his name, and it’s decadent.

“Hey. Hey.” Yuuta’s fingers impatiently tug down his zipper. Adams Apple sliding down the column of his neck, swallowing a moan.

You sound so pretty like this.

“What’s wrong, beautiful?”

“Can I…can I just come over?”

“Yes..of course you can.” Each word rolls off his tongue carefully. A stark contrast to the storm winds rattling his heart around its cage.

Broken, teary whines kiss his ears and glide down his spine. Yuuta pulls his cock free. Smearing pearly beads of pre cum around his swollen head. His body is so well trained for you. Primed to your voice. Your touch. Your gaze.

“You’re the best, Yuu.”

A satisfied grin blooms across Yuuta’s face. He uncurls his long fingers from around his base.

No more self indulgence. Not yet.

Tonight is about you.

“See you soon.”

—-

Is this wrong?

This is wrong.

…right?

Your fingers plait together. Shifting weight between your feet.

Staring at Yuuta’s door, knowing your dark-haired, sleepy-eyed friend is probably watching the clock. Anticipating your arrival.

Maybe you shouldn’t vent to him about other guys.

Maybe you shouldn’t use him to soothe your broken heart.

But he’s so soft with you.

Patient. With open ears, open arms. His capacity for you seems limitless.

Always peering at you with those deep set, graphite eyes. Opaque, winter fog. Quick to muddle your sense of direction if you look into them long enough.

Kind, but so, so unsettling.

Before you can reason yourself away from his apartment, Yuuta pulls open his front door.

“Hey pretty,” his mellow greeting is a warm weighted blanket around your shoulders.

“Hi Yuu,” your arms snake around his neck. Because it’s comfortable. He’s comfortable.

His toned arms sink into your lower back. As if your waist was tailored to the contour of his muscle. A low sigh breezes against your neck.

“Come in.”

Yuuta is hushed. He always is. Perpetually whispering secrets for your ears only.

You follow the gentle sorcerer into his apartment. Low lit. Shadows from the candle wicks dancing along his walls. Beckoning you into his lair.

“I made you some tea, is that okay?”

Yuuta’s lithe fingers fidget against his thighs. Almost 4 years of friendship and he still hasn’t shaken his nervous ticks around you.

Sweet boy.

“Yes please,” your smile is already less gloomy.

Yuuta mirrors you with a lopsided smile of his own. Small dimples dusting a boyish charm over his otherwise haunting features. He shuffles to the kitchen. And you take in his broad shoulders. Lean, muscular physique.

He really is handsome.

Eerily beautiful.

Effervescent porcelain skin, deepened from the Moroccan sun. Acute, angular jaw line. High cheekbones. Thick, raven hair that’s always a little storm-tossed.

A crescent moon against a clear night sky. Watching over souls trapped in their own personal graveyards.

There’s something about him that always seems…heavy.

Constantly balancing the weight of the world on his back.

Or something.

You settle in the couch just as Yuuta materializes into the living room. Stealthy, quiet footsteps. If he wasn’t the one who let you in you could be convinced that you’re alone in his apartment.

“Be careful, it’s still hot.” Yuuta warns. His eyes linger on your lips. Memorizing each pucker.

He’s so close.

Sweet steam kisses his face with each blow. And he sits there. Perfectly opposite of your mug.

Unphased. Unblinking. Still.

Close enough to take a sip of his own.

“Thank you for letting me come over on short notice, Yuu.”

Your thighs startle beneath his wintry touch. Both palms, larger than you remember, knead the fleshiest part of your hips.

“Don’t thank me. I’m here for you.” His tone descends. A deep drawl laced with conviction.

“I’ll always be here for you.” Yuuta repeats, pads of his fingers indent into your skin.

Your eyes metronome between his.

Slowly evanescing into his firm, glacial touch. Hazy from his half lidded gaze. There’s no time space continuum between you two.

“Yuuta—“

“Tell me what happened.” Shards of glass rain down his dry windpipe. Willing with every cell in his body to remain neutral.

The gates open.

You’re so animated. It’s captivating. How you feel so many things.

The way your eyes flutter while telling him about how you were stood up. A call came out of the blue. A short, unsatisfying cancellation of your dinner date.

And Yuuta leans in. Nodding. Petting your mouth-fucking-watering thighs. Forcing himself to remember to move his eyebrows. And blink. And look away from Aphrodite every so often.

He knows the story.

He wrote the story.

And for the record, gorgeous. Your crush sounds pathetic when he’s begging for mercy.

Weak.

A man like that is beneath you.

Yuuta’s jaw loses tone.

Pretty crystals line your eyes. Your bottom lip is swollen. Red like Merlot stains on a bottle cork. Your mini skirt rides up a quarter inch higher by the second. Mostly from his fingers. Every time you gesticulate he caresses just a bit higher.

White noise fills the space between Yuuta’s ears. He’s inebriated. Incapacitated by the honey that seeps from your mouth every time you speak.

And he can’t keep ignoring the way his cock is thrashing against its barrier. Begging. Pleading for reprieve.

The Apple in the Garden of Eden.

And the consequences of his inevitable bite mean nothing to him.

“Please,” Yuuta interrupts. Barely above a whisper.

Your eyebrows crawl together at the center of your barbie doll face. So oblivious. Blissfully unaware of how you fuck his brain to nothing but smooth, empty, mush.

“I’m sorry I’m rambling—“

“No. No.”

Yuuta’s body moves before his mind can catch up. He slides off the couch to his knees. Nudging his hips between your legs. His muscular arms hook beneath your legs at lightening speed.

You have no time to gather words when he pulls you to the edge of the couch.

“Yuuta?” Delicate hands fly to his shoulders. Steadying yourself in this new, sudden position.

You’re heady. Shocked. Glassy eyed. Fully flushed from your button nose to ears.

You have no idea how addicting you are. Working sticky heat out of Yuuta’s needy length without even touching him.

He presses his lips into your inner thigh. Instinctively gripping your hips forward when you reflexively jump back.

“So perfect,” Goosebumps cascade along where his moist mouth traces.

“Y-yuuta, we...we’re friends.”

Yuuta drags his drunken gaze to meet yours. Resting his head in your lap. Feathering his icy hands up your butter soft skin.

“You’re so pretty.” He murmurs. Purposefully evading your observations.

He has some observations of his own.

Yuuta doesn’t miss the way his praise affects you. How your breath hitches. And your nails dig into his shoulders. Pupils blown to a full moon.

And the slow growing damp spot at the apex of your pink cotton panties. Yuuta can’t bring himself to stare at your precious rose. Not yet. He’ll cum in his pants if he looks now.

His slender nose traces up your quivering leg. And you bloom. Thighs drifting further apart. Making space for him. Inviting him in. Rewarding him.

“I can make you feel better.”

You gift him a pitiful little whine in response. Timid fingers travel into his nape. Yuuta’s heavy eyelids curtain his vision.

The room is spinning.

And Yuuta is kneeling at the only alter he will worship at. The only alter that will ever receive his devotion.

Those years of waiting. Wanting. Watching. Unsent love letters. Saved texts. Practiced conversations in the mirror. Stolen trinkets. Pieces of you he’s kept along the way.

It was all worth it.

Because the love of his life is spread open for him. Vulnerable. Needy. Melting beneath his touch like your body knows it belongs to him.

Yuuta couldn’t hold back if he wanted to.

“D..do you know how perfect you are?” Yuuta asks the warm, sore flesh beneath his lips. Admiring the trail of bruises he’s left up your inner thigh.

“Yuu, you don’t mean that.” You mewl and squirm like a brand new kitten. Mousing his hair between your fingers.

“I mean it. Y..you’re so…” his voice trails off when his trembling, pale digits finally press into your wet heat.

“S-soft. You’re so soft.” Drool pooling in his mouth chips away at his coherence.

Yuuta’s stormy eyes find the meeting point of his hand and your sex. The sight alone bucks his diamond hard shaft off of his leg. The friction from his damp boxers and rigid jean blurs his vision.

“Oh pretty girl.”

“Mmghhhh Y-Yuu..ah god.”

Both of your husky musings collide. Yuuta drives his long two fingers into your accepting, driveling opening.

He immediately curls up into your pleasure point. Eliciting the most dreamy, listless curve to your back. Tossing your head into the pillows behind you. Gripping his roots into your hand.

“Y-yuu, I need…please.”

Whimpers wrap around Yuuta’s cock and jerks him out of his fucked out state.

He didn’t realize he was open-mouth staring at how your cunt squeezes and tugs on his fingers. Leaking your dew onto your thighs. His fingers. His couch. Saliva streams down the corner of his mouth like he’s a starved animal.

He blinks up at you. Debauched. Lusty. Filthy in the way your hips are undulating against him. Taking your pleasure right out of his hands.

“I need…I need to hear you say it baby.”

Yuuta swipes his tongue against your clothed pussy. And you nearly buck off the couch.

“Please, y-yuu,” diamonds line your eyes again. So much pleasure in the pain of being teased.

“Say it, baby.” His breath kisses your swollen clit. “T-tell me what you need.”

“Lick..please, suck…Yuu,” He’s never heard a more beautiful plea. And his restraint was already teetering on a hair string.

Yuuta’s other free hand rips your panties away from your dewy folds. And his spine is set on fire.

The dull ache in his pelvis crashes into him like he’s at the deadly meeting point of the Atlantic, Pacific and Southern oceans.

“So..so pre..god.” Nonsensical words. Unintelligible noises.

Then his tongue circles your bud and he is gifted a taste of your elixir.

Somewhere between his pathetic sobs into your pussy, your gorgeous melody filling the room and how you grind your pretty petals along the length of his tongue — Yuuta isn’t sure he’ll be able to survive this.

At some point he pulled his cock free from its restraint. Spearing high and heavy in the air. Constant needy dribbles of pre cum staining his shirt, rolling down the length of his shaft. One or two drops even escaping to the floor between his knees.

He hasn’t stroked his length once. And he is this close to release.

And it is infuriating.

Yuuta hates how closely he is riding his peak right now.

Because he is not nearly done with you yet.

He wants you on his tongue. On his cock. For hours. He needs to coax orgasm after orgasm out of his one true love.

“Y-yuuta,” your right hand pulls at his head with all your strength. Yuuta has to bite back a whine.

His murky gaze meets your darkened one.

“Inside.” A clear, high-pitched command.

And Yuuta couldn’t dream of denying you. Of saying no to you, ever.

“O-okay, yes baby.”

He stumbles to his feet. Shakily working his jeans and boxers into a pile around his feet.

Your wide eyes and oh shaped mouth stains his face cherry red.

Why are you looking at him like that?

Is he not enough?

Were your other lovers bigger?

He’ll get rid of them if—

“Yuuta…will it fit?”

You shatter his spiral to stardust. He can breathe again for the first time since you came over.

Yuuta eagerly chases you up the length of the couch. Until he’s nestled comfortably in your legs. Your heat kissing along his drenched rod. Mixing your arousal with his.

“It’ll fit, because you’re made for me”

Yuuta rasps through tight lips. Burying his head into the gentle slope of your neck.

How is everything going exactly right and completely wrong at the same time?

He is more disciplined than this.

He is supposed to be in control.

But your warm, sweet petals sheath his length.

And you begin to circle your hips underneath him. Rubbing your nectar along his cock like you are marking him as yours.

Yuuta loses his sense of reality.

Unrelenting waves of heat ram into his groin. His cock stutters and beats against your precious cunt. He can’t bring himself to look you in the eye. Because everything dampens.

“No…n—no no wait!”

Yuuta smears protests into your neck. Hips rutting against your opening. Pressing you deep within the cushions. Rabid, uncontrolled movements. Ascending in pace faster than you can keep up.

“Fuck, fuck..”

“Yuuta? Are you cu—“

You have your answer the moment his hips hover over yours. Cupping his thick, blushing tip.

He fails to contain his explosion. Yuuta is mortified when stark white globs contrast your black mini skirt.

Air settles thick between you.

Circulating breaths between his clipped and your shocked ones. Decades pass between you before silence is broken.

“Don’t worry, Yuu! This doesn’t change anything.” Your smile is light and playful. Kind in the way that makes him fall in love with you again.

But…what do you mean?

Of course this changes everything.

He can please you.

He knows that.

This was just…

This was just one time.

The first time.

Amidst the cyclone of thoughts decimating Yuuta's brain, you’ve managed to wiggle around him. Currently lacing up your strappy heels.

Yuuta’s mouth lolls open but words fail to materialize.

Once you’re satisfied with your appearance, you prance over to his side. Still frozen on the couch with a handful of his cum. In the messy remnants of his unwanted peak.

Your lips meet his cheek. And your next words run his blood subzero.

“We’re still friends! We’ll always be friends, Yuu.”

Yuuta’s steely eyes laser into your retreating figure with sniper precision.

Beautiful, silly girl.

You two will never be just friends.

[kisses4reid]

convenient pt.3 | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

pt. 1 | pt.2 (you cannot read this without prior reading)

summary - spencer likes the girl from the convenience store

warnings - awkward conversations and long silences, both of them being hopeless romantics, allergies/sickness

genre - fluff!!! college!fem!reader x earlyseasons!spencer

a/n - thank you for the love and support on this series. it goes without saying i appreciate all of you all 🫶 thank u @raevyng for the cameo. sorry this is short, it’s either i upload this part or i make y’all wait for another week - i like you guys too much to do that.

“good job on you’re stem cell report, y/n. it was very informed and unique. i liked the, now who was it… william blake quote you included!” the teacher spoke before a class of 60. it was back to teaching new information before the next assessment, you were just about finished typing the professor’s notes before she spoke up. the mention of your name nearly made you jump.

a few of the students looked back up at you, some looking around because they had no clue who you were. you liked it better that way.

you also had no idea who william blake was.

“oh- um. thanks.” you say barely above a whisper. professor raena simply smiled and pushed back her shoulder length bob from her face. she started talking again, so did your friend.

“thanks? the professor who’s known to call out people for their incompetence more than smile in the classroom just praised you. that’s all you had to say?”

maybe logan wasn’t your friend per say. maybe she was just someone who sat next to you the first class and also happened to be your neighbour. she was stubborn and straight-forward, insanely intelligent and also smelt great. but she was caring, and gave you tough love when you needed it.

you glanced at her and smiled awkwardly, “i didn’t have much time to think about an answer.”

“i spend most of my time thinking about what i’d say to professor raena if she ever complimented me.”

“that’s because your-“ you suddenly muffle a cough into your hand, “obsessed with her.” you bring out a small packet of tissues from your bag and wipe your nose, nose reddening. logan leans slightly away from you and you roll your eyes.

“you’re not going to catch anything, it’s just allergies.” you lean back and try to continue typing notes but logan continues,

“you should go home, have some medicine, get some sleep.”

“i can’t, i’ve got work.” you whispered, a man in front of you turning around to shoot you with a side eye.

“you’ve told me multiple times that your manager wouldn’t care if you stole from the store. i’ve also told you many times i also don’t care.”

“yeah well… i like working there, that’s all.”

she rolls her eyes again, and waves you off, her long brown hair blocking her disappointed expression from you.

you stayed loyal to your job for two nights, for nothing. sure you got paid, and sure you got to steal some strawberry milk to ease your throat for a couple of minutes, but it felt boring. you actually started to file through the month old magazines you sold for double the price of a new one. you almost made it a third day without dying of allergies (and another secret feeling of sickness you constantly ignored), before you decided you were over it.

you stood up, flipped the door sign so the word ‘open’ faced you, and turned off half of the fluorescent lights before someone was suddenly in the corner of your eyes. spencer was opening the door so quickly you thought you were being robbed, you wouldn’t have seen him if not for the bell ringing on his entry.

“y/n.” he panted, watching your fingers hover over the last light switch. there was two lights left flickering softly above the front door and the check out desk. he looked stoic in the light, dressed in a grey sweater a little too big for him (like his mother had bought it for him telling him he’d grow into it) and black slacks. he seemed to have gotten a trim, his hair just under his ears now. “you don’t close until 1.”

he was confused, eyes wandering with a light hint of relief. like he was happy he didn’t miss you.

“yeah.” is all you said before you turned away from the light switch and returned to the register, assuming he would get his usual. but he didn’t keep walking, he just turned his body to face you. his eyes were expectant, delirious in a way like he needed something from you.

it was silent before the tension literally forced you to speak, “um. i need to close the store before i pass out. so i can uh… get home alive.” you look down and realise the pile of tissues before you was making a mountain, quickly grabbing them and stuffing them in an over filled bin.

“um.” a cat caught his tongue, he looked down to his feet.

spencer was sitting in his desk chair, scrolling on his government provided computer through forums and websites on ‘how to ask out a girl.’ not realising a majority of his team was reading them as well. he heard a small, familiar giggle behind him, quickly closing the tab and turning his head to be met with many other faces. jj slapped garcia on the shoulder with a smile, who’s hand was over her mouth, morgan and emily also smiling. spencer sighed and was about to cover for himself before morgan stepped in,

“look, pretty boy. no websites or article is ever going to teach you how to ask out a girl. they know nothing.”

emily joined, “yeah, none of those things are going to work. i mean, one of those said ‘don’t take no for an answer’. that’s straight up harassment.” she chuckled. morgan walked forward and placed a hand on spencer’s shoulder.

“all you have to do is talk. learn to what she likes, and be confident.”

“that’s easy for you to say.” spencer mumbled.

“who is this girl anyways? who’s taking our genius away from us?” garcia asked, today her hair was adorned with green themed pieces and a small pink flower clip.

spencer couldn’t help but let the corners of his mouth perk up when he thought about the girl who worked at the convenience store. the girl who’s report honestly impressed him. the girl who knew his total without looking at the register. the girl who called him good looking without noticing, like it slipped off of her tongue with no second thought. “just someone.”

you were not just someone.

“yeah you should get home. you look terrible.” spencer’s eyes widened as you raised an eyebrow, “no i mean- not terrible- you never look or have ever looked terrible- i just meant today- no you- like you’re sick and obviously- i mean you don’t obviously look terrible- it’s just uh…” he nodded at himself after he noticed a smile creeping onto your face. “you know what i mean.”

“i know i look terrible, thank you.” he was slowly walking up to the register.

“you really should go home, i shouldn’t keep you here because of some coffee.”

you eyes stung and were puffed in redness, you nose dried yet running, eyebrow lines permanent from warding off a migraine. any other customer you would stay for, but you felt less guilty with him. not because you didn’t care, because you knew he did.

“yeah, thank you.” you grabbed your bag, put your empty water bottle into it and walked over to the lights, turning off the last ones, leaving you both in darkness. spencer was waiting for you, quite creepily as he was basically just a block of void. “you sure you don’t need your 3 minute lasagne?” you joked, and he smiled.

“no, this is fine.”

this? them? you thought this man was articulate.

you opened the door with a key-accessed button that automatically locked it after it closed, and walked into the warm streetlight with spencer.

“bye spencer.” you looked up to him only to find his eyes already on you. his face was plain of emotion, except maybe it was just the lighting that made you think he looked disappointed. not at you, at himself. he was silent, hands making their way into his pockets. it was a habit, you had learned. “what’s wrong spencer?” you asked softly, sniffling immediately after.

it was cold, the wind let a stray piece of hair cross your stuffy features.

“do you like old bookstores, y/n?”

you blinked, taken aback. “yeah. i like old bookstores.” you huddled into your sweater, a darker grey compared to his with a large font displaying your university.

“okay, goodbye y/n. see you tomorrow.” he hurried off into his car and you followed him with you eyes in curiosity.

you were already walking away before he could turn around and ask you something, he felt like he had missed his chance. but there would be more. spencer closed his eyes in frustration and took a breath, starting his car before texting the team’s group chat.

“Attempt One failed. 😐👎”

there was a string of messages after but he didn’t read them. all he could think about was the percentage of people who die alone, and then the percentage of people who are like you.

the next night he appeared at the normal time, around nearly 11pm. but he wasn’t the only one, logan was there with you, studying behind you on the floor.

she was bored, and needed to get out of her room, and the only person she knew well enough was you. there in her mens pyjama pants and an over-sized shirt that read ‘RIP Princess Diana’ with a photo of owen wilson on it, her computer warmed her lap and made a soft whirling sound the in the background.

“hi y/n.” spencer waved, he felt bad about last night. you were barely walking straight when you left and he could tell you wouldn’t get out of your ‘work clothes’ (whatever you wanted to wear with a vest over it) before falling onto your mattress, and he drove away. he didn’t even offer to take and walk you home, let alone give you a ride. but his hands were sweating and his heart thumping in his ears, and he couldn’t think straight.

“oh, hi spencer.” you turned from your own textbook splayed on the counter beside you to see spencer and his tall self. a bag of apples, a 2 minute bolognese container, and a bag of coffee. you scan them, weigh the apples, and watch him.

he wasn’t meeting you eyes. you furrowed your eyebrows for a second before telling him his total with a sniffle.

“i’m sorry for not driving you home,” he lifted his head, a piece of chocolate brown hair crossing his left eye, “or walking you home. or making sure you made it home safe.”

you widened your eyes slightly and sat still before spencer cleared his throat and continued, “i was nervous, about being around you. and my friends- my colleagues- told me i need to be more confident around you so.”

logan had stopped writing, glancing through her bangs up at you both. your mouth was slightly agape before you realised how stupid you looked and how awkward you were making it.

“oh- no it’s okay spencer, you don’t have to say sorry. i was- i’m fine. um,” you tilt your head with the corner of your lips quirking up with little resistance, “you talk about me to your friends?”

spencer nodded, put his hands in his pockets and thought for a second. he wished there was a better place to do this, a better person to take over for him.

all you have to do is talk.

spencer is great at talking.

“did you know that you could be scrolling for seven weeks before you can reach the end of ‘how to ask a girl out’ results on google? i was scrolling for a long time but then my friends told me to just talk and be confident, but i’m only good at one of those thing. so i was trying to ask you out last night but then i- well i failed basically, it isn’t my strong suit,” he took a breath, “so basically i’m saying sorry for not asking you out and not driving you home.”

it was silent, even a customer stopped humming.

“and also your allergy medication isn’t strong enough for your symptoms.” he glanced down to a white and blue box by your hand. you looked down, seeing logan in the corner of your eyes, hand covering her face.

“spencer-“

“dude just ask her out.”

spencer’s face dropped, and he looked over the counter to find another woman sat down, a cringed out expression on her face. his nervousness increased after he realised this wasn’t as private a conversation as he thought. wiping his hand on his vest, he continue with a gulp,

“no i can’t. not here, um. i’ll see you on monday. and i promise i’ll uh- be better? i’ll try again, so. okay see you on monday.” he quickly took his groceries and walked off quite speedily. you watched him walk away and then once he was out of sight, you simply stared at the box of allergy medication on the counter.

logan groaned in the background and said something about growing balls, but it was tv silence for you.

you didn’t know how to go out with someone, your last relationship was in your first year of high school with a guy who thought baby’s came out of a woman’s bum. not that spencer meant he wanted a relationship, no it could just be a friend ‘going out’. totally not romantic.

you slump and stuff your face in your hands. you didn’t care if you hadn’t dated for however long, he didn’t seem to be a man-whore at all. you just cared about how you were actually going to say yes to a man you’ve only talked to inside of an off-brand convenience store on the night shift.

you muffle a scream before the same silent customer placed a carton of milk on the counter.

“$2.50.” you grumble.

you carried logan’s computer bag as she took out a box of strawberry pocky on the sidewalk. the store was locked, the air was crisp, the light was flickering. you didn’t say much until logan couldn’t stand it anymore.

“you know when you’re this silent it’s actually pretty nice, i like peaceful walks home.” you nodded, and continued your racing thoughts with your line of vision stuck on the concrete as you both walked the block to your apartments. she sighed, “but it’s odd. you love talking. a guy likes you and you go mute?”

“his name is spencer, he does something dangerous for a living, he likes old books and drinks a lot of coffee. he gets home late at night, looks skinny but can lift a box of flour above his head with ease. he’s insanely smart and reads poetry, and helped me with my stem cell report.”

you look over at logan who looks a little disgusted but mainly confused.

“he helped me lift that box of flour without me asking. i have no idea who william blake is. i have no idea how he managed to put poetry in a biology report, and i have no idea how he can admit he’s going to ask me out and then not ask me out. his favourite colour is purple, his favourite fruit is grapes but he buys apples because they’re cheaper. and his name is… spencer.”

logan stopped in her tracks, making you copy. you flung out of whatever trance you were stuck in and raised an eyebrow at logan, “what?”

“what? oh no i don’t know, maybe you’ve just never told me about a man you happen to know a lot about, and yet don’t know anything about. you sound insane- not in the ‘loony-bin way’, in the romcom way. it’s disgusting.”

you both continued to walk, climbing the stairs to the foyer of your building before she took back her bag and gave you the pocky, mumbling, “you need these more than me.”

the elevator ride was mostly silent, and that continued before you both unlocked your apartment doors right beside each other.

“you need to ask him out, if he doesn’t do it first.” she entered her apartment before you could speak, let alone think.

suddenly your apartment felt lonely.

so did spencer’s.

he was cross legged on his plush couch on a call with penelope garcia, she was squealing every second minute trying to create a plan for spencer to ask someone out.

“spence, you’re making this very hard. how am i supposed to be your coach if i only have half a team?”

“you can find someone’s address with half a fingerprint, i think you’ll be fine.” he takes a bite of his 2 minute bolognese.

“that takes the fun out of it. i can only give you tips if i know her personality.”

spencer sighed, and thought for a second, he could practically hear penelope’s growing smile knowing she had won.

“her names y/n.” garcia squealed. “she’s smart and pretty. and her favourite colour’s purple and she studies biology. she knows my groceries off my heart and she’s allergic to pollen. she works late at night at the convenience store two blocks away from my apartment building, and she likes old book stores. she’ll be introverted around an extroverted person, but extroverted around an introverted person. she can read my expressions faster than anyone else, she tries out different hairstyles when nobody’s in the store, and she’s funny.” spencer smiles to himself, “she’s pretty.”

“you mentioned that, lover boy.”

pt.4

taglist: @jeffswh0re @hypotheticallyspeakingwitch @trashmonstersara @wannabewolf @evysian @navs-bhat @mywellspringoflife @daphnesutton @smalls155 @amortencjja @anuncalledbridge @belsreid @redmurderbaby @tatilolz @criminalmindsandhouse @forensicuntology @nomajdetective @ilikw @screechingphantommaker

[verstappen-cult]

gonna take up on the request opening bc i love these lil blurbs you do with your moodboards! maybe "how they defend you online" esp charles and lando but if you feel like adding others its up to you !!

THE BOYS DEFENDING YOU FROM ONLINE HATE | F1 GRID

★ — LANDO NORRIS (4)

lando was streaming when you came home one day. once he heard the front door being closed and then your footsteps, he excused himself with his friends and viewers and went to greet you. when he came back, there were several texts from his friends letting him know of some not-so-friendly comments about you. suddenly, lando had something else to do and ended the whole thing. he did not tell you anything, lando simply waited until his next stream for what he wanted to do. it was very simple and definitely something lando would do; and staring right into the camera lando let the world know that if they don’t support his relationship, then he just doesn’t want their support at all. from then on, lando just blocked everyone who didn’t have anything good to say. you’re the most important person in his life, how can anyone hate you? and so, lando made a promise to himself: show the world the amazing girl you are.

★ — CHARLES LECLERC (16)

even way before you started dating charles, receiving hateful comments and messages was a common occurrence. of course your boyfriend knew about it, everyone could see what was happening just by choosing a random picture on your instagram and reading the replies. it was sad, awful. but you didn’t want charles to do anything, you stopped him a lot of times because you didn’t want to bring too much attention into the whole thing. charles loves you and that is all that matters to you. it was, well, okay… until things became a little to real, a little too much, and charles couldn’t sit back and do nothing. so with a little bit of help from his team, he managed to write a very good and long statement about the whole thing. there were mixed opinions but things quiet down a little. and you weren’t happy at first, but something as simple as seeing your comment section hate-free made you forgive him sooner.

★ — OSCAR PIASTRI (81)

oscar is a man of very few words and never engages in online drama or gossip. if and when he’s online, oscar just wants to see cute and funny videos. he’s a formula one driver and people should only be interested in that part of his life, but he knows that will never be the case. however, he’s still surprised to see various comments around twitter about you. they are not about how beautiful or intelligent you are or how happy you seem to make oscar with your pretty smile and sense of humor – not that they would know that. not that they deserve to know that, either. some part of him wants to reply to those people who definitely don’t know you, he’s angry, disgusted. and the rational part of him tells him to simply don’t say anything because they don’t deserve it. so, oscar just clicks to make a new tweet and begins with a simple phrase “you don’t know anything about me or my life…” and so on. maybe he sounded a little harsh, maybe things will get worse; he couldn’t care less, as long as you’re not mad with him, he can live with being the center of the drama. oscar will never let anyone disrespect you.

★ — MAX VERSTAPPEN (33/1)

max doesn’t care what people think and have to say about him, that ship has sailed a long time ago. but he can’t ignore when people say mean things about you, he just can’t, so, he doesn’t. max replies to every single tweet and comment on both his and your instagram that he sees, he goes directly to the point and if he’s mean then, who cares? maybe it’s a little bit childish but he doesn’t care, max will not allow anyone to talk shit about his girl. and if he needs to make a video or do an interview or whatever he needs to do to make people understand that you are part of his life and forever will be, then he will be more than happy to do them. max is almost never online, so when all of this happens he makes sure to make time to be online, to post a picture of you on his instagram story, to post a photo of your vacation together on his feed, to say how much he loves you via twitter, to mention you when he has the chance during an interview. he loves making you blush and seeing you trying to hide your smile when you see all those things. max also loves pissing people off.

★ — ALEX ALBON (23)

alex tries to be friendly. when he sees someone say something not good about his girlfriend, he doesn’t hesitate to prove them wrong and defend you. he knows you’re more than capable of doing it and has seen you doing it before; he loves it. but there’s this something inside of him trying to break free and just let everyone know the funny, pretty, amazing, kind girl he’s lucky to call his girlfriend. so, alex lets it free and goes liking, retweeting and replying to every single comment about you and how shiny and nice your hair is, how you seem to make alex so happy and how he’s always smiling around you (he makes sure to let them know why is that), how lucky alex is to have you by his side, and so on and on and on until there’s nothing more for him, until he can’t think about the mean things people said, until you are laughing next to him and calling him obsessed and kissing him like your life depends on it.

★ — DANIEL RICCIARDO (3)

daniel chooses a catchy song and changes some of the lyrics, then sets his phone down and sits with a big smile and his guitar. when the video starts, he simply says “this is dedicated to all of the assholes thinking that is okay to hate on someone’s girlfriend just because.” and then he starts singing. there are a lot of bad words and cursing and long pauses looking directly into the camera without losing that big and pretty smile he has. daniel then uploads the video to all his platforms with a little paragraph about why bullying is bad and why you should mind your own business because he’s not that interesting anyway and it won’t make him break up with you because some trolls are practically begging him to. he ends up getting in trouble for not consulting with his team before doing what he did, something that has him going viral, so viral that people outside of formula one and people who don’t even who he is talk about it. exactly what he wanted.

★ — MICK SCHUMACHER (47)

the moment mick has to hold you in his arms as you cry because you’d read something mean about you, it’s the exact moment he decides to do something about it. he doesn’t want to cause drama or make things worse, so, it takes him a little while and some long calls with his sister to know what to do. mick puts the poetry classes you two take a few months ago to good use and writes the most beautiful and romantic poem you and everyone would ever read. it is about you, about his love for you, about what you mean to him and everything he likes about you. he posts a little phrase to his instagram stories and sets a time and day for when it will be posted it. when the day cames and you get to read it, you end up crying again but for a whole different reason. it’s not that you didn’t know mick loved you but it’s the gesture, the time he spent doing it, the fact that he wanted to do it and wanted the whole world to read his love letter to you, something that will forever be there.

© VERSTAPPEN-CULT ⎯ do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own.