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grugruel · 9 days ago

Text

Sleeping With the Enemy

Pairings: Silco x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: You're a councillors daughter secretly working with the Eye of Zaun, fulfilling each other's needs.

Political needs, of course. It's purely business. They would never be stupid enough to start an affair . . . Unless?

Wordcount: ca 3.5k

Warnings: enemies AND lovers, hate-fucking, toxic, Silco being evil, angsty, pinv sex, rough sex, power imbalance, fighting for control, complicated feelings, twisted love, forbidden relationship, dacryphilia ish, cockwarming, blowjob, fingering, edging, overstimulation, choking, cum eating, creampie, petnames (girl, princess, devil, Sil)

AN: yet to be proofread. This might be one of my favourite works, he's insane . . . I need him.

"Let go off me," she snarls, yanking mirthlessly against the strong womans grip. "Release me Sevika, or-"

"Or what?" She cuts the girl off with a sneer, metallic fingers sinching around her bicep. Sevika holds her close enough to force the girl to stare up through her eyebrows if she wants to achieve any semblance of eye contact.

"Or she tells her precious father," the man cuts in, a nonchalant smile to his tone.

"He doesn't know I'm here," the girl snaps, defiantly locking eyes with the industrialist. Clad in shadow, he's a mere silhouette backlit by Zaun's streets. "He doesn't know anything."

Picking up a brand new cigar, he clips the end and flicks a lighter open, toying with the flame. All in due time, he's not rushing to spoil such a favored treat.

"Good," he says and gestures dismissively, signaling his trusty henchman to leave.

Sevika releases the girl with a displeased huff and slams the door behind her. The only thing she likes less than piltovians, is them wandering too far from their fabricated safety and ending up on her doorstep.

She watches the muscular woman leave, staring at the closed door in contemplation as she once again finds herself alone with the eye of Zaun.

Something clatters behind her, a lighter discarded on a desk. "You're late," he mutters, bringing the smoking cigar to his lips.

Anger begins to blaze inside her. That's it? That's all he has to say? "Six enforcers are dead," she snaps, nose scrunching. Disgusted by the mere thought of that demon's violence. "She's a loose canon, Silco. She blew them up for the hell of it."

From the dark, a red orb slips her way. He leans forward, having the rooms gloomy light illuminate his face only to throw the girl a disapproving look, barely deeming it worthy to look her in the eyes. "You forget yourself, girl."

Swallowing, she forces herself to calm down. Aggrivating such a volatile man never proved a good idea, and displaying anger against his daughter proved even worse.

Carefully, she ventures closer. Testing the waters and finding them thick as mud. The very air around him emenates danger, and her body slows down, relucant to put itself in such unpredictable environments. "You broke our deal," she announciates, finding it safer to put the blame on him rather than the blue haired demon he protects so ferociously.

"You disrupted our shipment," he repeats her ridiculous attempt. "It's simple business. Collateral," he shrugs and gestures toward her, vaguely implying the deaths should be on the girls consience. He doesn't say it outright because he doesn't need to, because he doesn't care if it hurts her feelings. Because, he doesn't care about the lost lives of a few topsiders, lives of enforcers even less. In true rebel spirit.

Massively unimpressed, he sizes her up when she places herself on the other side of the desk. Gripping the edge, the wood is tough beneath her fingers as she strains to keep herself in check. Blue and green light his back, lining the countours around his body. It softens him in some ways, as if the light hasn't completely shunned him yet.

Suddenly smirking, Silco's gaze drifts over her. Studying her tense disposition with spiteful glee as he enjoys the irony of a murderous piltovian. "Contemplating violence wont relieve you of this predicament."

"Killing you would."

"Threatening me so early in the morning?" He tsks, taking a deep drag of the cigar to then blow a ring of smoke in her direction. "Perhaps I should have approached your father instead, the councilor would've been easier to handle . . . More willing to please."

Keeping eye contact, she doesn't react, and a glint of cuiosity to sparks in his gaze. "He has nothing to do with this, and you know it," she tries again. "But Jin-"

Silco's smirk falls. "Hold your tongue, girl." Pinching the bridge of his tall nose, he releases a heavy sigh. "Lock the door," he orders, looking at her through his eyebrows.

Menacing, haunting. She could describe him with a hundred different horrific words. Yet, he doesn't scare her. They both know she's right.

Breathing relief, she does as she's told. When asking her to create a boundary between the world and this room, he shows her nothing has changed. Whatever they have remains within the confines of his office and her bedroom. It takes the edge off, and she lets the inhabiting worry slip away.

Upon her return, she softly stalks around the desk until sidled up against the short side. "Shoving clever words down my throat won't shut me up, Sil."

Rubbing his face, he looks at her through his fingers. Heavily disapproving of the nickname. "Dont tempt me," he warns. "I'll find other ways to shut you up."

She swallows, a single pulse throbs in her core. Moving around the desk, she slides a finger along it's edge and places herself infront of him, bathing her in the very same darkness that Silco finds himself in.

A small smirk flicker on his lips. But even though it dissolves, turning back into its usual serious mask, the satisfaction of the expression linger on his features.

"It cant happen again," he warns a third time, he must going soft on her. His hands move, trading the cigar for the the ability to touch her. One hand reaches for her thigh, sliding beneath her skirt. While the other reaches up, grabbing her chin to stare into her eyes. "The shipments are important." Silco applies just enough pressure on her chin to keep it stinging, just enough to understand that he didn't take the loss lightly. While the thumb beneath her skirt brushes lightly over her hipbone.

Inspite their predicaments, their relationship was business from the beginning and the majority still is. He tells her this through the contrasting touches.

She nods.

"Use your words, girl. Tell me you understand. This cant happen again."

But she won't concede, not yet. "No more attacks," she murmurs, placing her hands on his thighs. "No more deaths." The girl sinks to her knees, slowly, and making sure he keeps his gaze glued to hers. Being so close to him, she gets a whiff of his cologne. He smells of musk and wood, Smoke and whiskey. He smells of man.

They know what buttons to press when it comes to one another, and right now, she needs safety for her people in much the same way he needs independence for his. The difference laying within their methods of accomplishment. But looking at them now, it's clear they've got more in common than she's previously thought.

Silco spreads his legs further apart, welcoming her advancements. "I wonder what daddy dearest would say if he saw you now; that pretty princess of his . . . Negotiating on her knees." He slides a hand beneath hers, lacing their fingers together before leaning back in his chair to enjoy the show.

It's a small sign of fondness, one he confidently gives. Showing his inclination toward her means little, for they already know where they have each other. Unwilling to put it into words, they feel them silently.

Truth is, they enjoy the power imbalance, they enjoy the hatred their respective people share. Peculiarly, it unites them, and simultaneously fuel their polarity. They're a strange equation, two variables with a common sum.

Helping each other with free hands, they unbutton his pants. "Im sure he'd be proud of your devotion," he mocks, exhaling that infamous low chuckle.

Spitting into her hand, she reaches into his pants. "He'd share the pride with your people," she smiles and looks up at him innocently, pulling his member out. "–when they find out your working with a councilor's daughter . . . Fucking her no less." She leans in, teasing his tip with a slow circling lick, gathering the pre-cum on her tongue. With a corner curving upward, his lips part, and there's a silent intake of breath. Brushing his hand along her cheek, he collects stray hair covering her face and gathers it at her neck, twirling it around his fingers. "Go on," he urges.

And so, she finally closes the distance and takes him in her mouth.

With a hiss, he squeezes the hand laced with his. Slender fingertips dig into the back of her hand. "Little devil," he groans, hand burrying deeper into her hair and balling into a fist, coincidentally pulling on her scalp.

Clasping her still spit-wet hand around his shaft, she strokes him, adding on to the bobbing of her head.

"Yes," he moans, reclining his head against the back of the chair. "Carry on, girl."

Im sync with her hand, she works him until he's close to squirming, trying his very best to keep a semblance of composure. Never did she think such a powerful man would tremble beneath her touch or the pressure of her lips. But here he was, his usual neat combed back hair fallen over his forehead, beads of sweat gathering on his temples.

He'd started using his hand to guide her head, helping her find the perfect path toward his climax. Chest heaving and teeth bared, he chuckles breathlessly as the squelching of their actions reach his ears. Pushing her too far, she makes half-choking noises when she takes his entire length down her throat. Causing saliva to spill out of her mouth and roll down his length.

"Sloppy," he snarls, manicured nails digging into her hand. "-used to sucking cock."

She whines from the rare usage of crude words, making her core purr. His inches twitch in her mouth, sensing how close he is. "Please me," he supresses a groan, calling her name. "Swallow."

It happens quickly. His breathing turns rapid, his hips arching as he spills into her mouth. Tasting of rich salt as she swallows.

Smirking devilishly, he catches his breath. "Thats it . . . Well done." He brushes his thumb along her index finger.

Joy trickles into her heart at the praise, but there is little room as her body is already filled to the brim by need. With heavy eyes and glistening lips, she stands up on her knees. "Kiss me," she whispers.

Unlacing their fingers, he moves to slide a thumb across her lips, gathering some of the milky seed she'd yet to swallow. "Open up, princess." He pulls on her hair to tilt her head back.

Her lips part automatically, a knife slicing through her pride at the irony of the name. Silco slips his thumb into her mouth and wipes it clean on her tongue. He watches with fascination as her lips close around the digit, volunteering to suck it off as he pulls it out. "Kiss me," she repeats.

The fingers still burried in her hair twitches at the sight. Acting on impulse, they bunch her waves, pulling her close enough for their lips to play ghost. He tilts his head to the side, bringing them impossibly closer. "Tell me you understand," he murmurs, watching her reaction as the featherlight touch tickles her lips.

Her expectations for the night and the soft shell of intimacy around them shatters, but she'll never give him the satisfaction. The kiss was a wish from her own selfish needs, but giving him what he wants without the safety she require for her people is not. "No."

With a harrowing glance, he releases her. "I have work to do, you know where the door is," Silco says, nodding toward the exit. He then runs his hand through his hair, combing it back into place.

So quickly is the mood ruined and the rush of lust diminishes, settling her nerves. Instead it is the annoyance and the anger she arrived with that begins to rebuild.

The girl scoffs. "Petty, man-child," she mumbles, keeping her voice beneath her breath. But she wants something from him too, anything. She's derserves it, it just the matter of taking it.

Then, something just clicks in her mind and an irruption takes control of her body. Narrowing her eyes in quick to non-existent contemplation, she grabs his collar and pulls him in for a kiss. It only lasts for a second before she pushes herself away and stands up, not planning to stick around to deal with the consequences.

But before she gets a chance to move too far, a hand grabs her forearm and yanks her back. "You stubborn girl," he whispers in her ear, an arm slung around her torso as Silco holds her against his chest. She feels her panties being pulled to the side, and the head of his member lining up with her core. "Bleeding your integrity dry for those imperious, self-important cretins." He teases her entrance, sliding the tip up and down her folds.

"I am one of them, or do you forget?" She snaps.

Without warning, he lowers her onto his inches, fitting them inside her like they've been molded. The girl gasps at the feeling and Silco's fingers curl, releasing a groan as his fingers rouch the fabric at her ribs. "Even now?" He adjusts the girl in his lap. "Would they deign to descend from their thrones as you? Stooping to my level, manipulating on a whim to fullfill your needs." He pulls her closer, nudging her profile with his. All the while he's got his still hard member pushed up inside her, soft walls of flesh welcoming him eagerly. "Would they still accept you when found-out, or will they throw you to the wolves as the rumours spread? When they find out Zaun's villainous crime lord is fucking Pimtover's princess," he laces the words with venom, hands slipping upward. One stops at her breast to squeeze while the other clasps around her throat. "When they whisper of the ways he uses her. How he puts her on her back, or makes her kneel . . . How he bends her over," he murmurs, sending shivers down her spine.

She grows dizzy, a mix of worry and pleasure clouding her senses. His words hit home, drawing her lips into a thin line. "They are still my people," she breathes, voice close to breaking, sunding more like she's trying to convince herself.

"They will be your downfall." He puts pressure on her throat. "We've made sure of that, you and I."

"No . . . Silco, that's not true."

The hand holding her breast slips beneath her skirt. "We've made our beds-" slender fingers find her clit. "And we will sleep with the consequences."

Head lulling back against his shoulder, back arching, pleasure spikes as he stimulates her thrice fold. Circling her clit while throbbing inside her, and acting catalyst is the experienced hand around her throat. It limits the bloodflow and multiplies her pleasure. "Fuck," she whimpers, hips squirming, flesh randomly spasming around him.

Silco groans at the sensation, gaining his own pleasure from the whole ordeal. But that is not his goal. "Be still," he warns.

The collossall amounts of pleasure blinds her, it grabs hold of her senses and refuses to let go. Her nerves burn and fingers curl. Its all too much, yet not enough. Tears of gather in her eyes, slowly spilling over to roll down her face. "A-almost . . ."

Silco adjusts his grip around her throat so uses his thumb to tilt her face toward him, then watches how the tears streak her makeup, leaving watered down mascara in their wake. He places his lips on her skin, kissing the tears away while enjoying their salty taste. He studies her rosy cheeks and knitted expression, memorising the small whimpers she breathes.

The girl can no longer keep still and her back prepares to arch, limbs preparing to surge with blinding hot pleasure. "Im-- nmgh, I-" She mewls, and the knot releases.

. . .

Until it isn't. She feels Silco retract his hands, causing oxygen flood her brain and irritation to anchor her mind. The knot in her stumach re-ties, loosely adjusting until the pressure completely dies down. "I see callousness runs in the family," she complains, almost in pain from the sudden lack of stimulation.

Silco circles an arm around her waist. "It's essential to survive," he says and stands up, still swollen member slipping out of her. Supporting the girl as her knees wobble, she's unable to stand on her own due to the afflictions he's caused her. Turning her around, he helps her onto the desk. Chest to chest, he braces against the wood, one hand on either side of her, effectively boxing her in.

She lays a finger beneath his chin, and he looks up at her through his eyebrows. Exhaling, he moves between her thighs. Silco reaches out to her, loosely cupping her face as his thumb smears the streaked mascara. "There is no white knight," he says, pushing reality on her, weather she's willing to listen or not.

She nods. "I know." Tainted by the impure air of Zaun, branded by the touch of it's Eye. If she ever is to be saved, it must be by her own hand. Her smile is faint as her eyes fall from his.

He grabs her face and squeezes her cheeks. "Look at me," he tells her with a gravely tone. Their eyes lock. Dissappering between them, his other hand lines himself up with her core.

Taking a gamble, she grabs his tie and pulls him in, properly locking lips for the first time. Because he doesn't pull away, and neither does she. Her bottom lips begins to tremble, surprised he ever let it go this far. Their initial moment passes, evolving into seconds until they realise neither is breathing and they tear apart for much needed air, not straying far. Their lips hover, ghosting as previously. "You steal whats not your's to take."

She nudged his nose with her own. "Does survival not apply here? I never took you for a hypocrite."

His top lip twitches, and she feels him bare his teeth in a silent snarl as his fingers apply pressure to her cheeks. "How clever," he murmurs, and pushes inside her once again, catching her off guard.

They share a reflexive gasp, and as he starts to move, every thrust exchanges breaths between them. The girl's lips curve, heavily enjoying the tiny sliver of emotional intimacy he's finally giving her.

Her legs circle around his hips as he grabs her waist one handed, adding further levrage as his fingers dent her flesh. Silco starts a heavy pace and their lips reconnect, mirroring their bodies, it reflects their feelings. The kiss growing needy and rough.

"Get on your back for me," he mocks and releases her face. "Prove them right."

She bites his lip, tugging on it as she lies back against the desk and pulls him with her.

Hand suddenly free, he hooks it beneath her knee and pulls it up against his side to gai better access. Slowing down the pace, he manages to take her deeper, harder. She groans, head lulling to the side as her climax begins to build. "Dont stop." Not again.

"Look at me," he breathes, warning in his tone as he's inclined to watch her topple over the edge. Her brows knit together, but her gaze finds his. The knot closing as his thrusts begin to grow erratic.

Pleasure burns her fingers and quickens her pulse. "Close, c-" she begins, but he cuts her off with another kiss, tongue slipping between their lips to explore her mouth.

And just like that, she bursts. Traveling through her from top to toe. Silco following short thereafter. "It's alright . . . Good, girl," he whispers.

Once they've caught up with their breaths, Silco straightens out, and rearranges his clothes before helping her to her feet.

"I understand," she says, halting by the door.

He looks up from his seat but is quick to stand, slowly stalking toward her. Stopping just short of her smaller frame, he reaches behind her back to grab the door handle. "I don't control her. She is my daughter like you are your father's," he says and meets her eyes. "But I will speak to Jinx." Leaning down, he kisses her cheek, catching her off guard. Affection is newly discovered territory between them, but from him to give it so freely after battling it out is a very big surprise. But as quick as ot started, it's over. His soft expression morphing into his usual stern disposition. "Dont be late again girl," he says and opens the door.

Somehow, they've become entangled. Silently sharing affection their respective people would deem unfit. Silco wont hurt her, if he can help it. But such is nature. They'll stand on opposite sides, prioritising their own families, cities. But not without a thought of the other, wishing it could be different. It probably never will be, for such is faith and such is time. If only it could rewind.

#silco #silco arcane #silco smut #silco x reader #silco x you #silco x female reader #arcane smut #silco imagine #silco fanfiction #arcane x reader #silco fanfic

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luveline · 9 months ago

Note

You mentioned in one post that bombshell!reader was furious with the team for not helping Reid with his addiction (as she should be)…. Would you maybe write about her helping him thru withdrawal or thru the cravings that follow? Maybe subtly at first, then just making sure he knew he wasn’t alone? Just some tender moments where Spencer starts to realize she actually cares about him, even if he doesn’t believe her flirting yet.

-🌕

I love every single thing you write, even for fandoms I’m not even in. You’re amazing!!

thank you for requesting my sweetheart!!! I really hope this is what you wanted, love you <3 fem!reader

cw past drug abuse

“Hi, Spencer Reid.”

You perch on the edge of his desk with no further introduction. You’ve changed perfumes, to his immediate recognition, the rich smell of your usual parfum swapped for a less consuming scent. He detects apple blossom, and rose, the smallest hint of jasmine, a contrast to your usual vanilla and peony. The human brain can remember 50,000 scents, and Spencer can remember all of yours. Or, he could.

“You’re not saying hi anymore?”

“Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi. It’s nice to see you.” You put your hand on his. Spencer isn’t sure you’ve ever touched his hand before you took it at the hospital, he’s never really let you, but he doesn’t move away. A huge winding of tension between his shoulders begins to unspool. “It’s really nice to see you, babe. I’ve missed you tons and tons.”

He looks up tentatively. “You have?”

“I have. I haven’t really been invited, today. I’m just here to see you.”

“Why?” Spencer asks.

You tighten your fingers on his hand. “Missed you. Thought maybe we should, like…” And that’s unusual, for you to use filler words, Spencer doesn’t know what to think of it. “Well, I have something to say to you, and it’s going to either sound reassuring or ridiculous.”

“Okay.”

You give him a withering look. “Don’t make it any easier for me.”

He laughs. The sound alone fosters your smile. “Sorry,” he says softly, “I doubt it’ll be ridiculous.”

“Spencer Reid, we are friends. We are. But we never do anything outside of work, so I was thinking you could come over tonight and we’d make dinner and watch TV and stuff.”

“And stuff.”

“I’m a bit nervous,” you confess, looking down at your lap, then quickly back up into his face, “I’m worried you won’t want to.”

You’re kind to avoid saying what he’s sure you’re thinking; you’re worried he won’t want to spend the night with you, and instead will look down the long barrel of a small needle. Or, he thinks that’s what you’re thinking. He does it to everyone.

“What do you want to make for dinner?” he asks.

“What are you enjoying lately?”

“I… I don’t know. I’m not really eating.”

“Cereal?”

“Yes,” he laughs. “Lots of cereal.”

You tap the wheel of his chair with your heel. You’re dressed as though you aren’t working, wearing a sweet dark dress with a starched collar and baby sleeves, stockings, and a necklace at your neck that glows with a small white crystal. You look amazing. It never makes any sense to Spencer, why you’d taken an interest in him, and why you bother now. He knows he’s hard to care for. He knows he’s making it worse.

You look up and down his face. You must see the purple half circles beneath his eyes, the crack at the corner of his mouth, the cut he can’t stop picking on his cheek. Every time it scabs, he opens it again. One second he’s sitting there and the next he’s got blood under his fingernail.

“Hug?” you ask hopefully.

He goes to stand. You move in too fast and wrap your arms around him, leg slotting between his, leaning over his shoulders with a distinct sense of protectiveness. You squeeze him, a little sigh escaping you that sounds loud so close to his ear.

“How has it been this week?” you ask quietly.

“It’s fine.” He cups your back in his arm carefully. The other wraps tight around the small of it. He soaks you up, scared you’re gonna pull away any second.

“How are you feeling about it? Do you need any extra help?”

He cringes. “No,” he says. “It’s really fine.”

“When you texted me, about the cravings? What are they like today?”

He wishes he could breathe in the smell of your perfume and your skin and tell you they’re all better now. It would make sense; there isn’t much in his life that hasn’t been made better by your attention. He’d struggle to do this without you. You’re his only friend who actually cared enough to say the problem out loud, but you’re just a woman, you can’t work the sort of magic necessary to kick this for him.

“Spencer?” You pull away, nudging his cheek with the back of your finger.

“They’re okay. I’m not gonna do anything.”

“Good, honey. I’m proud of you. I know how hard this is.”

He bites the inside of his lip, surprised at your caring. He shouldn’t be.

“What are you two whispering about?”

You and Spencer have different reactions to Emily’s sudden question. He flinches like he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and you, still vaguely pissed with everyone for not telling you Spencer was struggling and not afraid to show it, keep your eyes trained on his face.

“Nothing,” Spencer says.

You turn to her with a small smile. You still like her, Spencer knows. Secretly, he’s pleased you’re angry for him. It’s nice to have someone so obviously on his side. “We’re just deciding what to get for dinner.”

“Oh, nice. Date night?” she teases.

You press your cheek to his forehead. “Date night,” you agree, your hand unmissable where it bunches in his sweater near his heart.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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yourfavoritewitchbitch · 6 months ago

Text

Desire, I'm Hungry

Summary: You and Steve happen upon a strange flower and suddenly find yourselves separated from your friends in the Upside Down. An unrelenting desire overtakes the both of you, taking your friendship past the point of no return.

CW: Porn with plot. Sex pollen (so this could be considered forced intimacy). Underlying idiots in love. Mutual pining. AFAB Reader. Steve's canon S4 injuries. Steve's a little mean. Fluff ending. Biting. Blood. Fingering. Makeshift gag. Unprotected P in V. Reader has a vagina. Small breeding kink (it is Steve, after all). Creampie.

This one would not leave my brain until I got it out! Enjoy!

WC: 10.4K

In all the years you had come to know Steve Harrington it had its ups and downs. Being his best friend came with firsthand experience with all things Upside Down that ultimately led you into some pretty precarious situations.

Demogorgans, demo-dogs, Russians and a monster composed solely of melted people were the least of your worries because HE had always been there.

Until this very moment you saw him as untouchable. An invincible protector, the one person who came when you needed to be saved, not the person who needed saving.

He'd reached for your hand in desperation as he disappeared under Lover's Lake. The tips of his fingers slipped through yours, leaving you grasping and screaming out in panic and shock.

“Steve! No, no, no, no!” You scrambled next to Robin, pulling off your jacket about to jump in when she suddenly caught your wrist.

“Hey Y/N! No! You can't just jump in there!” She yelled. Before you could get a word of protest out, you heard Eddie yell behind you.

“Woah, Wheeler you're not going in there, are you?”

“Just wait here.” She replied, briefly cutting her eyes to you before the sound of splashing water drew your attention.

“Holy shit,” Robin breathed out, clutching a hand over her mouth.

“Robin, we can't stay here. Not with both of them down there! Let's go!” Reaching out to her, as you turned back to look at the metalhead. “Eddie?”

“What? No. You can't go. What the fuck man!” He wailed. “She said wait.”

“Yeah, we heard her.” Robin finally nodded, squeezing your hand reassuringly as you both leapt from the boat.

You'd never been a strong swimmer, even with all the summers spent by the Harrington's pool. Much more interested in getting some sun instead of swimming laps.

Only now you were regretting never listening to the boy when he tried to give you those life preserving pointers, as you swam to the pulsating gate beneath Lover's Lake. Your lungs were on fire by the time you made it to the opening, Robin extending her hand to help you through.

Eddie surprisingly followed a moment after, while you were still trying to catch your breath.

Suddenly, ear splitting screeching noises and Nancy's voice pulled your focus in time to see Satan’s own flying hell spawn attacking Steve on the ground, as she attempted to fight them off.

“Oh my God! We have to help them!” You shouted, taking off in a sprint toward your friends, Eddie and Robin hot on your heels. All regard for your own safety was quickly forgotten.

A weapon was the furthest thing from your mind but as you drew closer, you realized just how dire the situation appeared.

Steve was being strangled by one of the creatures, with its tail wrapped around his neck and another making a meal of him. Nancy had successfully pried one off and was in the midst of fighting it back.

“Steve! Just hang on!” You shouted, stomping a foot down directly on this thing's back as it shrieked out in pain releasing its jaw from his side, immediately turning its attention toward you.

“Oh fuck.” You hissed, as it leapt up taking flight. You turned to run but Robin was right there with an oar.

You ducked as she bashed into this thing, splintering the wood as it fell to the ground. Rushing over you began to stomp on it repeatedly until it stopped moving.

You all turned in time to see Steve holding this creature by the tail and whip it around hitting the ground until it lost consciousness. Stepping on it with his bare foot and pulling until he ripped it apart with his bare hands.

“Fuck,” you huffed, stunned. He was bloodied and bruised, as he spit blood from his mouth, but he was alive.

Robin leaned over slightly, whispering low enough for only you to hear.

“Might want to pick your jaw up off the floor.”

You shut your mouth and shot her a sideways glance, as she snickered.

The joy of a victory was short lived as you rushed over to Steve’s side.

‘Steve, are you okay?” Suddenly hurdling yourself into his chest with a thud as he grunted out, throwing your arms around his neck as he wound his around your back, holding a little too tightly and maybe a few seconds too long before letting go to give you a proper answer.

“Well,” Looking down at his torso, when you stepped back. “They took about a pound of flesh. But, other than that, yeah, never better.”

Robin began ranting about rabies, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of Steve as your own set of worries began to seep in. Completely lost on the conversation around you until you heard Nancy yell.

“The woods. Come on!”

“Y/N, c’mon!” Steve frantically tugged at your arm before you all made a run for cover.

You were huddled under skull rock pressed in like sardines, waiting with bated breath until the bats finally dispersed.

Everyone grumbled, and voiced concerns as you stood. Steve took a few uneasy steps before he fell against the rocky surface opposite of you.

“Oh shit,” coming out on a shaky exhale, as he tried to upright himself.

“Steve?” Your head whipped around as you stepped into his space, reaching out to help steady him.

“I'm fine. I'm fine.” He huffed out, still a little dazed.

“No, no you're not. You're bleeding. Sit down.” Worrying over him.

He slid down, as you knelt in front of him, guiding his wrist to take his hand away from his oozing wound. Nancy began to tear the bottom of her shirt, quickly handing you the fabric.

Robin started rambling about rabies again before you glared at her.

“Rob, not helping!” You hissed before she mumbled an apology and backed away from the two of you.

“You ready?” Asking him as he looked down at you, poised with his makeshift bandage.

“Yeah, just do it.” He pinched his eyes closed, bracing himself, wincing once you pulled it taut against his abdomen and began wrapping.

“Too tight?” Chancing a glance up at him but he was already staring down at you, with a scowl plastered across his features.

“Why the hell are you down here?” He suddenly blurted out.

“What the hell do you mean? We all jumped in for you.” His question genuinely bewildered you, eyes drifting back down, concentrating on the task at hand. Wouldn't he do the same for any of you?

“You should have stayed in the boat. Like I told you to.” He chides.

You work to finish covering his wounds, ignoring the sting of his words. Scolding you as if you were a petulant child who didn't listen to their father.

“A thank you would be nice.” Mumbling out as he winced when you tightened it to begin tying it off.

“A thank you?” Scoffing down at you. “Well instead of me dying, now we all might die. Don't you get that? Jesus, Y/N you don't lis— Fuck!” He hissed out.

You made sure to pull the last knot even tighter, effectively cutting off the rest of his little tirade.

“Oops.” You smirked, finally standing and stepping away from him.

You were drenched and cold, suddenly all too aware of your grim situation. You sure as hell didn't need a lecture from him right now after saving his ass.

“Fuck off Steve! We were all trying to save you!” You shouted, leaving the rest of the crew to stare around awkwardly, shifting gazes amongst each other.

“I didn't need to be saved! You should have stayed on the fucking boat!” He yelled back.

“Hey, guys,” Nancy cleared her throat, trying to break the tension between the two of you before it got any worse.

“What?!” Shouting in unison, turning your heads to look over at her.

“Maybe we should get going, yeah? And uh… stay a little quieter?” Her eyes drifted to the treetops overhead, scanning a moment.

You'd both been so fixated on the other, the horrors of the upside down had slipped your minds. She was right, you were trying to avoid attention, not bring it directly on top of you.

“Let's all just calm down and get through this together.” She hummed, satisfied with your nods of agreement taking off ahead of you once more as Robin followed.

Eddie's wide eyes met yours and then Steve's.

“Right, I should, uh…” he said, thumb pointed in their direction. “But uh, here.” Shrugging his vest off before forcefully tossing it toward Steve's chest.

“For your modesty dude.” Smirking before he darted away to follow after the girls.

Steve sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, voice coming out quieter this time but still laced with annoyance.

“C’mon. Just stay close and don't wander off.” Before taking a few steps to catch up to Eddie.

“Don't wander off.” Mocking under your breath, staying a few paces behind, not wanting to be near your ungrateful so-called best friend.

The forest got darker the further you went. It felt like eyes were on you the entire time. You wrap your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling chilled and uneasy, closing the gap between yourself and the boys.

You were close enough now to catch bits and pieces of their hushed conversation, more Eddie talking than not. You knew Steve well enough that he was still brooding about the entire situation. He didn't hate you, quite the opposite. His harsh tone only masks his own worries and fears.

You caught him more than once glancing over his shoulder to make sure you were never too far away.

“Dustin… said I was badass?”

“Oh yeah. Shit. Kid WORSHIPS you, man. Like, you got no idea. It's rather annoying to be honest.”

You smirked at that. Dustin never told Steve anything like that, coming off as an annoying little brother all the time.

“Those ladies jumped in after you and I was too damn ashamed to be the one who stayed behind. Wheeler there, she didn’t waste a second. I mean not a split second. She just dove right in. I don’t know what happened between you two, but… I’d get her back, man. Whatever it takes. ‘Cause that… that was as unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen.”

Steve stops at Eddie's spiel, looking over his shoulder once more, as you roll your eyes. Of course it was always about Nancy. The one that got away. Not like you tried to dive in first, right? Eddie was too freaked out to notice back there.

Before Steve had the chance to respond the ground began to shake once more, as everyone tried to hang on. You lost your footing, tripping over a stump and thankfully not landing on one of those damn vines, losing sight of everyone behind an overgrown thatch of bushes.

The rumbling slowed to a dull roar just as something caught your eye in a small clearing up ahead, emanating a small bluish-purple glow through the trees ahead. It was faint but while everything in the Upside Down was muted and dull it stuck out like a sore thumb.

As if it was pulling you in, you stumbled forward, quickly righting yourself and heading toward it. It was pulsing slightly; a steady, slow rhythm like a heartbeat.

You stopped at the center of the clearing, as you stepped closer, you realized it was a flower or at least flower shaped. Something akin to a Dahlia back home but it was a glowing azure color, petals almost transparent.

There were a few unopened buds that were also pulsing. The closed pods thumped, not taking notice of the way the pulses quickened as you stepped closer.

Your mind was clouded as you watched them. Beauty in a barren landscape, so mesmerizing you didn't hear Steve calling out for you.

As if on autopilot, your hand began to drift toward it as he jogged up beside you.

“Hey, did you not hear me calling for you? What're y—” He trailed off, feeling helpless watching your fingertips graze the pod as he tried to yank you back, but it was too late.

You were both too close when the thing practically exploded open, releasing a cloud of pearlescent powder into the space between you.

The dust landed on everything in a five-foot radius, as it invaded your lungs causing you both to choke on what you could only think of as its pollen. He grabbed the back of your shirt, dragging you away.

“What the hell was that?” He asked in between coughs and a few sneezes.

“I don't…” before you could properly form a response, screeching could be heard from overhead once more.

“Shit!” He hissed, before shouting back to the others to run for it. The hive mind. Everything was connected down here, it only made sense the flowers were too. The flying bats were back.

You and Steve took off the opposite way that you entered the clearing, dodging vines and low hanging branches in the process. He was trying to slow down so you could keep up.

“C’mon y/n. I think I see a building up ahead!” He shouted.

It was a dilapidated looking cabin, but it would have to do, as he took the steps two at a time reaching the porch with you right behind him.

He barreled through the door, thankful it wasn't locked as you rushed past him, slamming it shut in time to see some of the creatures flying low, unsure if they'd spotted you.

His hands quickly moved to the deadbolt, looking around the small space grabbing a chair, wedging it under the door handle.

You both stood there a moment facing the door, trying to catch your breath as a loud thump echoed overhead as it landed on the roof. It let out an ear-piercing screech that had you covering your ears. Steve hovered his finger over his lips as a shushing motion as a few more thuds and mirrored screeches followed.

He was trying to think, shining the flashlight this way and that, finding an open door near the edge of the kitchen, spotting a set of stairs that were leading down.

He quietly shuffled over to it, shining his beam ahead. It looked like it led to a small basement or at least a root cellar, as he nodded for you to follow as he began his descent.

You sighed, but reluctantly walked over as quietly as possible and trailed behind him, closing the door softly behind you. There was no lock, but it did latch shut.

It was dark, the only light emanating from his flashlight, as he shined it back to the stairs for you to climb down.

“I think we'll be safer down here.” He whispered. “There's a cot over there.” Pointing to the corner.

It was a small room. No other outlet, looking more like a bunker than a cellar. Shelves lined the wall with food and various supplies. At least you were covered if you had to stay a while but hoped it wouldn't come to that.

“Steve,” You began but he immediately cut you off holding his hand up.

“If you hadn't gotten distracted, we wouldn't be in this situation.” His voice is a little louder, but still barely above a whisper.

“It's not my fault Steve, I saw something glowing, like it was pulling me in. You didn't have to fucking follow me!” You knew he was right, but you were feeling attacked.

“Yeah, I did. I'm not leaving anyone behind in this fucking place. Even if you can't follow simple directions.” He huffs, throwing a hand to his hip as he surveyed the room. “Not enough you get us separated, but you have to go and touch that weird ass flower. God knows what the hell that shits going to do to us.”

He was venting more than yelling toward you at this point, frustrated with the entire situation.

“You knew you weren't supposed to touch shit… that hive mind…”

“Steve.”

He continued to mumble over in the corner, with his back turned, throwing his hands around in dramatic fashion.

“But no! You touch it and now we're contaminated…”

“Steve!” Hissing out more forcefully, finally knocking him from his train of thought and little rant.

“What?!” He spun around, throwing the beam from his flashlight directly in your face. “What Y/N?”

You threw a hand up shielding your eyes with a grimace before he quickly lowered it, mumbling an apology.

“Can you just stop pacing? It's not helping anything. You're just giving me a headache.” You grumbled, sitting down on the cot. It slightly squeaked under your newly added weight, as your elbows landed on your knees, bringing your hands to cover your face with a groan.

“You're giving me a headache…” he mumbled slightly under his breath, but you still caught it. He found a small chair in the opposite corner, plopping down with a sigh.

After about ten minutes of total silence, you laid back on the cot, unwilling to give him any more attention. Though he continued to mutter under his breath occasionally, you ignored him.

“Hey,” he finally spoke up. “I'm going to give it a few more minutes and see if they're still on the roof. Maybe we can make a break for Nance’s place and regroup.”

“Yeah, fine.” Huffing a reply with an eye roll.

It was then you noticed a strange tingling on the skin around your neck, kind of like a cold chill. Shaking your head as you sit up, to rub the back of your neck.

“You ok?” He asked, watching intently.

“Fine. Just… a chill.” You shrugged, as he nodded.

Another drawn out silence before either of you attempt to speak.

“Hey, are you… do you feel itchy?” He asked, scratching his exposed shoulder.

“Um, well now that you mention it, yeah. This spot on my neck is itchy.” Your hand absentmindedly reached up, scratching at it again.

“It's that damn flower. I knew it!” He exclaimed, standing up. “Look, we need to see if we can get out of here.”

You watched him carefully retreat up the stairs, his footsteps creaking across the floorboards above your head, stopping for a few moments before making their way back over to the door as he came back into view.

“Ok, looks like we might be here for a while. They're still moving around up there, and when I looked out the window there's a few in the surrounding trees.” He slid back down into the chair, spreading out as much as he could to make himself comfortable.

“Fuck, isn't that just great?” You huffed out, taking your turn to pace the small room. Was it getting hot in here? A bead of sweat rolled down your back. When did it get so muggy?

“Just calm down, we'll get out of here. Okay?” He sounded so sure of himself; you almost believed him.

You sat back down, stretching your legs out onto the cot and finally laying back. The situation was looking bleak, your own mind filling with anxious stress. At least Steve’s here. You don’t have to die alone.

You watched him from the corner of your eye, wiping his brow several times before finally rolling your head toward his direction.

The vest Eddie gave him hung open, revealing his chest, the thick smattering of hair slick and matted down. Was he sweating too? His toned chest moving up and down, a steady rhythm with each breath he took. His head was leaned back on the wall behind him, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.

You pulled your lip between your teeth, before letting go as he picked his head up looking at you as if he could feel your eyes on him. You didn't look away, holding his gaze.

“Steve?” You finally asked.

“Yeah?” His eyes shift away from your face, trailing down your body before looking back up as his tongue darted out wetting his parched lips.

“Is it hot in here?” Sitting up, fanning yourself. “I feel like I'm burning up.”

“Yeah… yeah, no. I thought it was just me.” Letting out a sigh. “It could be the close quarters, but I don't think we should go upstairs yet.”

“No, yeah. You're right.” You laid back down, eyes to the ceiling. You could ignore the heat if it meant survival for at least a bit longer.

He turned the light off a little while later, trying to conserve what little battery life it had left.

At some point you drifted off to sleep because you were roused by him touching your arm. It felt like ice touching your flushed skin as you sat straight up trying to catch your bearings.

“Hey! Woah, it's just me.” He soothed, as you flinched away from his unusual cold touch. He pulled his hands back, giving you some space. “I wanted to check on you. I don't think it's hot down here. I think it's us.”

You felt dizzy sitting all the way up, throwing the back of your hand to your forehead. You were on fire. Your nearly dry clothes were sticking to the dampness of your flushed skin, making you cringe. There was also an overwhelming feeling of an unquenchable thirst in the back of your throat.

“Fuck, Steve. I really did it this time.” You folded over yourself, head in your hands, groaning at the way you almost felt drunk or drugged, wondering if he felt as bad as you did.

“No, hey. Look, I'm sorry about earlier. It's not your fault. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. I’m the reason we’re in this situation.” You moved your head to look up at him, willing your bleary eyes to focus. A thin sheen of sweat covered his exposed skin, hair sticking against his forehead. His eyes are what caught your attention the most.

His usual golden flaked, honey hued irises were a mere fraction of a ring around a black abyss. This pollen was affecting him the same, he just had a better poker face but he couldn't control the truth his eyes showed you.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked, as you sat there unblinking.

“Yeah, I…” Shaking your head to look away. “Yeah, no. I don't fucking know right now.”

He shuffled over to one of the shelves looking for some water or anything to help alleviate your symptoms. Pausing for a moment, wondering if anything could be trusted from the Upside Down but there wasn't anything of value he could find in any case.

“Fuck!” He hissed, turning back around.

“Steve, it's ok.” You croaked out. “Just sit down.” You patted the small space beside you on the cot as you scooted over. He hung his head and skirted back over, sitting down carefully trying not to touch you.

He didn't want to tell you that while you were sleeping this overwhelming urge started to come over him. An ache low in his belly, and groin. It started out dull but began to grow, radiating through him as a spiked sense of arousal began thrumming through his veins.

Shame began to wash over him. How could he be so turned on at a time like this? A few more minutes passed when he was hit with the most intoxicating scent. It was faint at first. When he took in another heavy exhale it invaded his nostrils and filled his lungs.

He didn't understand where it was coming from, but he felt light, almost high, as he continued to breathe in and out, letting it wash over him. He could only describe it as a familiar, yet exotic thing, wrapping him up in a warm hug. It was almost irresistible, in the way a bakery or candy shop lures you in with promises that, yes it tastes just as good as it smells.

He turned the light back on, shining it toward your still sleeping form, shifting his hooded and heavy eyes over you stretched out on the small cot. There wasn't much skin showing, aside from your exposed arms but then you turned toward him as your shirt rose up slightly, exposing a sliver along your hip that suddenly had him drooling.

He felt his cock stir in his pants, with an ache that was suddenly all consuming. He hadn't realized when he'd gotten up, but he was suddenly standing over you, reaching out, fingertips grazing your arm.

You stirred slightly, as he watched your lips part with a soft breath settling back down.

He placed his palm to your arm, fingers wrapping around your soft, pliable flesh and an instant feeling of relief flooded his senses but then you'd woken, startling him out of this sudden trance.

You stretched and yawned beside him, shedding the last bits of slumber from your small nap. You couldn't have been out long, but you were so tired and thirsty.

Had he been awake the whole time? A sudden pang of guilt overtook you at the thought.

“If you need a nap, I'll move so you can take the cot.” Saying as you slowly stood, stiff on unsure legs, as you swayed just a bit plopping back down, your arm brushing his. It was brief but the feeling was cool against the searing heat radiating from you.

“Woah, just take it easy, yeah?” He turned toward you, hands at the ready but just hovering. He didn't trust himself right now.

“How… how are you so cold? Your skin, I mean? I thought you were hot too?”

“I am, look at me. I'm fucking sweating.” He gestured toward himself, a thin sheen of sweat still covering his face and body.

“Can I…” You couldn't get the question out before your hand was already reaching up, suddenly gripping his wrist.

Your brain is flooded with endorphins. A dopamine hit that had you suddenly searching for more. Your eyes closed at the contact, missing the way Steve’s mouth parted slightly releasing a shuddered breath.

As if you had no control of your body, your other hand moved up, planting itself firmly on Steve's chest, eliciting a small whimper from him that made your eyes shoot back open.

“Do you feel that?” You asked, watching his eyes flutter closed. All he could do was nod, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth.

You moved his wrist up, as he opened his hand, already anticipating what you were thinking, as you placed his palm to your chest.

“Oh my God,” it slipped out, almost a moan more than words. His hand immediately soothing the patch of exposed skin that had your eyelids lazily closing once more.

“It feels so good, Steve.” You breathed out.

Your words were doing nothing to quell his ever-growing arousal. He took in a heavy breath and there it was. That overpowering aroma was suddenly surrounding him once more, too heavy to ignore.

It was you.

When you opened your heavy-lidded eyes, the pupils were blown wide, full of lust and desire. Your lips parted slightly, releasing a small exhale you had been holding. All he wanted to do was lean in and press his lips to yours, letting his tongue explore and taste all that you had to offer.

“No.” He hissed out, jumping up and stumbling back, putting a little space between the two of you.

“What? What's wrong?” You asked, mourning the loss of his contact.

“This. This isn't… Jesus!” He whispered out, trying to maintain his composure. “Can't you see what's happening? It's the goddamn flower, that powder. It's making us… whatever this is.” Gesturing between the two of you.

Of course he had an attraction to you. He'd been harboring, what he thought, were unrequited feelings for the better part of two years.

“Yeah, I know, but it feels so good when you touch me, Steve.” Your voice was dripping with seduction, even if you hadn't meant it that way. Your head was getting all fuzzy again, swaying a little.

“Goddamnit, we need to get out of here.” He hissed, wiping his forehead. “I'm checking upstairs again.”

You watched him go, leaning back on the small cot once more.

Aside from the dizziness, there was something stirring just under your skin. An itch you couldn't quite scratch, a buzz or a hum starting at the base of your neck, traveling down your spine sending a sudden spark to your lower abdomen like when you were… Oh God. Your legs closed as if by their own volition when that spark suddenly had your core clenching around nothing just as he descended back down the stairs.

“I think we're almost in the clear. The ones in the trees are gone and… hey, are you okay?” Finally noticing the almost pained expression etched across your face.

“I… I'm… Steve, what the hell is wrong with us?” You sat up quickly, getting to your feet with a gentle sway. He didn't think this time reaching for you.

His touch both soothed and electrified you. Cooling hands on hot skin but an even hotter feeling pooling between your thighs, making a small whimper escape you.

He closed his eyes as your cheek hit his chest. He was trying to think of something, anything else other than the way you felt against him.

You inhaled deeply, his woodsy musk surrounding you entirely. It was illogical. You'd both been in the lake and running through the woods, yet his scent was mouth watering.

“God, Steve, you smell so good.” You murmured, feeling intoxicated, grabbing onto Eddie's vest with clenched fists.

“Yeah, s—so do you.” Dropping his hands to rest on your hips, your head lifting at his admission.

“Yeah?” You asked, almost breathless. He nods, licking his lips, your eyes landing there as your hands slip under the vest smoothing over his chest, the coarse hair tickling your palms as a shiver ran down his spine.

It's like you couldn't stop yourself, stepping closer into his space as his grip on you tightened, pulling you fully into him, your lower stomach meeting his hips.

“Steve?” Asking as you inch forward, calves beginning to strain as you stand on the tips of your toes.

“Yeah?” He asks, holding his breath.

“I really want to kiss you.”

No sooner than the statement left your lips, he surged forward closing the gap.

Parched from the day's activities left his usual plush, soft looking lips chapped and dry but you didn't mind.

An immediate feeling of relief washed over you. It was like finding an oasis in the desert, drinking the taste of him down, briefly quenching that immeasurable thirst.

He tilted his head, bringing his hand to the back of your head, tangling his fingers into your hair as his nose pressed further into your cheek. You worked in tandem until his tongue dared to slip out, silently begging for permission.

You parted your lips with a soft moan as they met, slowly circling and entangling but you were hungry for more. Your hand slid up his chest and wound around the nape of his neck, finding his usual soft strands of hair, dirty and matted, pulling on the ends before pulling him closer, earning you a moan that you eagerly swallowed down.

The hand on your hip traveled south, snaking its way to the fat of your ass, suddenly groping and kneading your pliant flesh through your jeans pushing you further into him. His now very prominent hard cock pressed into the softness of your lower abdomen, taking you by surprise when you felt it twitch between you as he groaned.

At some point the two of you had begun moving, only realizing it when your back hit the far wall, knocking you from your trance. Your lips separated but still momentarily connected by a thin string of saliva as you pant into each other's mouths.

“Fuck, I need you, Steve.” You hissed out, pushing at the shoulders of the denim vest he still wore.

“Wait,” A moment of clarity for him, grabbing your wrists to halt your movements making you pout, as he looked around the dingy, cobweb infested space.

“Shit I— we can't do that down here.”

“Why not?” Asking, as your lower lip jutted out, eyebrows crinkling. The ache in your lower abdomen was getting worse, your clit was throbbing, practically begging for any kind of stimulation.

He shouldn't have looked at you. Your eyes were glossy in the dim light, looking as if tears were about to roll down your cheeks. He wasn't any better off. His cock was throbbing painfully against his pants, a wet patch of precum visible where his head laid.

“Goddamnit!” He hissed, pausing for a deep breath, tilting his head toward the ceiling. “Because I don't want the first time with you to be on a filthy basement cot in the upside down!”

You couldn't help the grin that lifted the edges of your lips into a smirk, as you continued to stare at his bared throat. Wondering for a moment what it would be like to sink your teeth into him. This deep primal hunger was overpowering your senses, overtaking any other basic needs.

“Fuck me upstairs then.” You blurted out.

“Wh—what?” As if he'd misheard you, whipping his head back down.

“I said,” leaning closer to him. “Fuck. Me. Upstairs. There's a bed up there.” You nip at his nose and giggle when he pulls back, grip moving, holding firm to your shoulders.

When it disbursed, you had taken the brunt of the pollen, if you could even call it that, apparently it was affecting you more severely, unable to concentrate on anything else for more than a few seconds at a time.

“We can't— you— don't know what you're saying, and those things are still up there.”

“Stevie, please?” Your voice drips with desire, sultry and sweet. Looking up at him with your best doe eyes had all manner of his resolve quickly fading.

“I can be quiet. I promise.” You whispered with a pout, as your fingertips dance along his exposed chest. “What're friends for, Stevie? We need to help each other out.”

“Fuck,” he groans, slipping his hand into yours, turning without saying another word to grab the flashlight pulling you along. He wasn't going to be able to hold out, suddenly driven by the unwavering need in his pants, it seemed better to give in to your advances than try to fight them. Your sweet tone, seemingly needing him just as much as he needs you, he couldn't resist.

His mind was flooded with the vivid image of how your tight cunt would feel wrapped around his shaft, he quickly ascended the stairs looking back once holding his finger to his lips when he reached the door, easing it open. The rush of cooler air hit you as soon as the door opened for a small reprieve.

“I'm going to check out the windows, go down the hall. Quietly.” Nodding toward the right. “The first door on the left has a bed and no windows.”

You nod your understanding as he lets go of your hand, letting you go your separate ways. Tiptoeing down the hall, it was quiet, aside from the errant clap of thunder that echoed through the walls every thirty seconds or so.

The room had been exactly where he had explained. It seemed small, but the only light filtered in from the hall, illuminating only a portion of the bed. As your eyes adjusted, the bed came more into view, a little dusty but bigger than the cot downstairs.

You threw the quilt back, revealing surprisingly pristine sheets underneath. You decided to discard your muddy, lake soaked shoes as he came into view.

He had turned his light off, a silhouette of broad shoulders illuminated against a dusky red backdrop as another bolt of lightning split the sky outside. He stood there lingering in the doorway, eyes briefly running over your form. Your breath hitched in your throat drinking him in when he finally took a few steps forward.

He stood before you without saying a word, quickly finding your hips and wasting no time pulling you flush against him once more as you let out a small squeak of surprise bracing yourself against his chest.

“Steve, I—”

You were quickly cut off when he sealed his lips over yours. His intoxicating scent once again surrounded you as your brain began to shut off, driven only by your primal desires.

Your hand trailed down his abdomen, fingertips grazing his bandages finding the exposed skin low by his waistband. He shuddered at your soft, lingering touch. Going lower still, he hisses and pulls back from your kiss as you palm at his erection over his pants.

It felt like you were on autopilot. The only thought in the forefront of your mind was the overpowering need for relief. The need to be as close as possible.

He was taken by surprise when you grabbed the lapels of his vest and quickly pulled him around. The back of his knees hit the bed, as he fell rather ungracefully.

The springs groaned under the sudden pressure of his added weight as he let out a grunt, uttering a “shit,” under his breath.

You quickly straddled his legs, giving him no time for protest, crawling up and sitting flush on his bulge trying to be mindful of those raw wounds fresh on his sides.

A chorus of expletives left both of your lips the moment your hips grind down searching for friction with your hands pressing firmly to his chest holding him in place. Your aching clit gets some relief, the stiff denim pressing into you sliding down the rigid length of him and back up. A fresh wave of arousal flooding from your core adding to your already ruined panties.

In any other circumstances, you would feel embarrassed rutting up against your best friend like a wild animal in heat, but seeking out and taking what you needed was first and foremost.

You leaned forward, burying your face in his neck, breathing him in.

“I could eat you up.” You whisper, lips grazing just below his ear, teeth nipping at his sensitive skin before your tongue rolls out, languidly licking at his jugular, his pulse thumping wildly against your muscle.

You whine, relishing the salty, earthy and coppery mixture as it settles along your taste buds, feeling him shutter beneath you taking a ragged breath only adding to your desire.

His hands find the plush of your hips, pulling you down to meet an upward thrust that has you leaning back up and moaning out without any regard for his earlier warnings and your promise.

His eyes shot up to you, barely illuminated in the dim light but you were a sight to see.

Your head is thrown back as if you were already in the throes of heady pleasure. Your mouth hung open slightly, another breathy wine escaping as you dragged your hips against his cock once more. Any and all of what was left of his will power was gone. His imagination ran rampant with the thought of you coming undone, falling apart only for him.

In one swift motion, he bucked his hips, gaining momentum to flip you over. Your back hits the mattress, making you gasp sharply as he seated himself between your parted thighs.

Your eyes go wide with surprise when his hand quickly shoots to your mouth, his large palm stifling your sounds.

Leaning further into your space, his lips ghost the shell of your ear as he spoke.

“I'm going to give you what you want but you've got to be quiet. Can you do that for me?”

You nod, fisting the vest in your hands, letting out a small whimper as he slowly took his hand away.

“Use your words, honey.” He scolded.

“Yes, I– I can be quiet.” You breathed out, beginning to feel faint.

“Good girl.” He purred, his words sending your mind into overdrive.

You pawed at his chest, pushing the denim at his shoulders. He sat up, finally pulling it free from his body and tossing it across the room. Your hands roam across the expanse of his chest and broad shoulders.

He reached the hem of your shirt, fingers skirting up your tummy, cool fingertips sending goosebumps across your flesh. You nodded as his eyes caught yours before he quickly pulled it over your head.

He sucked in a sharp breath, watching intently as your chest rose, pushing your breasts against the cups of your bra with each steady inhale, threatening to spill out all on their own before you reached behind, deftly unclasping it and lifting it away.

“Fuck, honey.” His eyes go dark, one of his large hands immediately finding its way to your soft skin. His calloused palm engulfing you as he kneads timidly, at first. You keen into his touch, arching upward, searching for more.

His mouth meets your pert nipple on the other side, swirling his tongue and roughly squeezing the breast under his palm. He nips at the taut bud as if testing the waters, teeth grazing before applying more pressure and immediately soothing the mild sting, laving the wet muscle back across your skin.

To keep from crying out, you bite down on your lip, whimpering as his touch sends shockwaves of pleasure down your body, shooting straight to your core.

He pulls off of you with an audible pop, eyes darting to your face when he feels you trying to push his pants down.

“Please, Steve. I need you! I can't wait.” You hiss out, still trying to maintain a whisper but the longer this keeps getting drawn out the more desperate you become, aching to be filled. An ache that was growing so strong it was boarding on painful.

Dipping your way past his waistband just a moment later, he shudders when your fingertips graze the soft skin of his shaft, wrapping your hand around his girthy cock.

“Oh fuck,” he breathes out, ducking his head into the crook of your neck, trying to muffle his own sounds as you stroke up and back down at an agonizingly slow pace.

Your thumb finds his head, a steady stream of precum already leaking from the tip, swirling your digit in the mess was almost too much as he sinks his teeth into the juncture between your neck and shoulder.

Your mouth fell agape with a silent gasp, a cry caught in your throat as your other hand flew to the back of his head, fingers digging into his locks and tugging harshly. He quickly unhinges his jaw, peppering kisses where his teeth had just been.

“M’sorry,” he mumbles out, pulling back and swatting your hands away from his pants as he sits up.

Your thighs go slack, as he blindly pops the button on your jeans, pulling the zipper down harshly, digging into the denim waistband before you lift your hips aiding in him hastily tugging them and your panties down your legs.

He tosses them somewhere behind him, before standing up and shedding his own pants and boxers, letting them unceremoniously pool at his feet.

Your eyes quickly rove over as much of his naked body as the dim lighting would allow, licking your lips. His cock was standing at full attention, curved slightly upward as he wrapped his own hand around it, pumping it lightly a few times.

His knees find the mattress, planting his hands on your thighs, spreading them apart to accommodate his frame.

Pausing a moment to appreciate the site before him, his fingertips trail the inside of your thigh, inching closer to where you yearn for him the most. You let out a small yelp of surprise when he tightened his grip and pulled you toward him.

“Steve,” you plead, as he ghosts over your slick lips, his thumb and forefinger spread you apart with a sticky release before he finally presses his thumb pad down onto your puffy clit making your hips buck up.

Sensing your urgent need, his finger begins to tease your aching hole, your arousal drips out, as he finally dips in, your hips rising up in time to push his digit further in.

Your head falls back into the pillow, the hand at your hip pushes you flush against the mattress holding you there as he pumps in and out of your tight pussy, quickly adding a second finger to help stretch you out.

“I can smell your needy cunt.” He hisses, practically salivating. Both of your pheromones were in overdrive, your scent wafting through the air like honey, luring him in. A feast begging to be devoured. “I bet you taste just as sweet.”

His words mixed with his current ministrations left you teetering on the edge, his digits stroke up, finding that sweet spot along your frontal wall and just when you were about to fall apart, it suddenly disappeared. Feeling as though it was subdued by some unseen force, leaving you whimpering and unsatisfied, as tears spring to your eyes in frustration.

“Steve, I— it's not working, I need more.” You huff out. It was then you noticed he was fisting his cock, searching for his own release alongside you.

“Fuck, yeah, okay.” He let out a little breathless. “It's not working f’me either.”

You immediately mourn the loss as his fingers slip from you before he promptly shoves them past his lips, humming around the taste, the potent elixir bursting on contact with his taste buds flooding his senses, igniting his insatiable hunger even further.

“Jesus Christ, I fuckin’ knew it.” His pupils dilate, high on the taste of you, a drug he suddenly realized he'll never be able to fully detox from.

He grips the base of his cock with one hand, leaning over and lining himself up with your soaked entrance, pressing the tip in, feeling your gummy walls start to mold around him, as your hands fly up to grip his shoulders.

“Please.” It was a breathy thing, as your muscles instinctually constricted around the welcome intrusion.

He groans, unable to hold himself back any further, snapping his hips and burying himself in one fluid motion. Your pussy gives little resistance between how wet you are and the unrelenting desire to be completely filled.

“Oh God!” Biting back another loud moan being ripped from your chest, digging your teeth into your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood this time, as his thick cock splits you open.

There was a slight burn, as he sat snugly inside your tight channel that quickly gave way to overwhelming pleasure when he pulled back, withdrawing almost completely leaving just his leaking tip before plunging back in, somehow feeling deeper than before.

You muffle your cries the best you can, as he begins to set a near brutal pace. Every thrust pulling little ah, ah, ahs past your lips as your legs tighten around his waist, heels digging into the fat of his ass pushing him further into you.

He hisses and stills when your legs gripping a little too tight, pull his focus from fucking you to the searing pain at his sides. The wounds had been forgotten from the pure ecstasy he was feeling.

“Shit, I'm sorry.” It was enough to knock you from your lust fueled haze momentarily as he pulled out.

“Flip over.” He grunts.

“Wha—” A sharp smack to the side of your thigh has the words dying on your tongue with a gasp.

“Flip. Over.” Repeating himself a little more forcefully. The soft boy next door being replaced with a rougher version, that suddenly had your pussy clenching around nothing at his harsh demeanor.

You rolled onto your stomach, as his hands came to grip your hips with a bruising force, pulling your ass up.

He wastes no time shoving his throbbing length back between your glistening lips, bumping your clit once before slowly guiding his ruddy tip past your entrance, as your cunt flutters around him practically sucking him in.

He's trying to contain his grunts to a minimum, when your noises start to fill the air he brings his palm down hard against your ass, making you jerk away, burying your face in the sheets below with a whine.

“Giving you exactly what you want, and you still can't keep that pretty mouth shut?” He hisses, grinding his hips slowly, to properly scold you. “Feels too good, huh, honey?”

You merely mewl and nod, before another smack echoes around the room, his palm smoothing soothingly over your reddened cheek.

“I asked you a question, honey.” His voice is lazy, dripping sugary sweet condescension.

“Yes, Steve, mmph— it— you feel so, so good.” Finally able to mumble out a coherent sentence.

He smirks, letting a hand slide down the length of your spine, fingers coming up to tangle in the hair at the back of your head before hauling you up, back flush against his sweaty chest.

Winding his arm around your midsection, the other detangles from your hair to cover your mouth as he places a soft kiss to your temple before his hips snap harshly, the new angle making you cry out, but it's muffled with his palm securely placed over your lips.

“Gotta be quiet, remember honey?” He huffs, breath hot against your neck, unrelenting in his conquest to see your demise.

You grip his forearm, nails digging crescents into his skin, hanging on for dear life. Each outward stroke and upward thrust, punching the air from your lungs as your eyes roll back, suddenly careening you toward the edge of oblivion.

His hand helps stifle your moans, blunt fingertips digging into the apple of your cheek, but you can't help the involuntary sounds that continue to slip out.

“Fuck, y—you feel good.” He stutters out, right in your ear. “Pussy feels like it was made f’me. Mmmm. Gripping me so fuckin' tight.”

The hand around your waist starts drifting south, coming to caress your mound momentarily before delving between your folds finding your puffy, neglected clit with expert ease, drawing swift circles against you causing your cunt to constrict around him sending another wave of arousal flooding out, soaking his balls and dripping down your thighs.

“That's it, honey. I promise we'll get there this time.” His cocky demeanor was doing it for you. You'd never seen this side of Steve, taking control, fucking you better than anyone ever had.

“You're going to cum on my cock while I stuff this cunt full.” You whined out at his words, high pitched against his palm. “That's what you want, huh? Fill you up and make it stick? F—fuck I think I'm close.”

You try to nod, letting him know you were too.

The heat that had been simmering for the last hour in your abdomen was finally reaching a boiling point. Pressure was building, as he continued to pound into you, his cock hitting at just the right angle.

Your grip on his forearm tightened, fingernails beginning to draw blood, but he didn't show any signs of distress, never ceasing his movements solely focused on you and the way you felt around him.

You close your eyes, as the flames begin to lick up your spine, spreading further and growing hotter. It was an all-consuming pleasure, your cunt begging for release, begging for his release.

Whatever this pollen had done to the both of you, it was clear it had a driving force with one thing in mind. Procreation. Unsatisfied and unsatiated until you were bursting full of his life giving fluid.

You're finally able to pry his hand away from you to let out one more breathy plea.

“Cum in me, Steve. I— I can't cum, I need you.” Your voice was low and raspy, but he heard you loud and clear.

He fully removed his hand, suddenly pushing you forward. Too weak to fight, your body fell onto the mattress with a small groan as he quickly withdrew himself and manhandled you around to lay on your back.

No matter what this pollen had done to him. He was still Steve deep down and he could never imagine not looking at your beautiful face as you fell apart for the first time. All for him.

He slips off the bed momentarily, picking something up from the floor before crawling back between your legs.

“I'm sorry, honey. You can't stay quiet.” He whispers.

“Wh—,” your question was cut off when he stuffs your filthy panties past your lips for a makeshift gag, kissing your forehead before grabbing the backs of your knees, practically folding you in half.

His palms push you down and hold your thighs open for him as he ruts his cock up through your folds, the tip grazing your clit before catching at your entrance. His head tips down to watch himself slowly disappear into your tight heat.

Your head flies back, feeling every ridge and vein upon his deliberate reentrance, fisting the sheets beneath you as muffled cries echo across the room. He pauses to take delight in the way your face is screwed up with pleasure as he buries himself to the hilt, suddenly wishing he could hear all the pretty sounds you were making unhindered.

He starts to move again, eyes drifting back down to where the two of you connected to watch himself plunge in and out of your soaked pussy, seemingly mesmerized by the way your greedy hole takes him so well but he tears his eyes away when he hears a pained whimper from you, pausing to search your face.

Your eyes were closed, tears flowing down the side of your face, feeling anything but pain as you looked up at him, eyes glazed over, begging him to continue.

Suddenly twitching at the thought of his impending release, he grinds his hips back into yours. The wiry thatch of hair at the base of his cock catching your clit just right, wrenching another moan from you as you nod at him to keep going.

He starts to thrust again but can tell he's close as his balls begin to draw up, and lower stomach tightens. Skin to skin doesn't seem to be enough when there's a sudden overwhelming need to be closer. He wants to crawl under your skin and embed himself there.

He releases the hold on your legs, letting them ease back to the bed as he drapes himself over you, caging you in. The hair on his chest grazes your nipples with each thrust only adding to your sensations as your hands find purchase on his back.

Holding himself up on one elbow his palm finds your breast, pressing and kneading before his mouth finds the other, sucking a little harshly leaving the top of your chest with a dark reminder as your body arches upward, craving more. His tongue moves over your pebbled nipple before he latches on.

It suddenly feels like he's everywhere all at once. Hands roaming, mouth hot as his cock continues to carve its way into your guts.

He pops off momentarily, sensing a shift in you because he can feel it too.

“You gonna cum with me, honey?” You look up into his eyes, a black abyss. The familiar hazel irises are nowhere to be found. Your best friend now hell bent on ruining you for any other man.

You nod, with a muffled “mmhmm” hoping to God you can finally crest over the precipice.

“Wrap your legs around me.” He hums, hiking your thigh up his hip. Your brows marry with confusion because of the day's earlier blunder.

“It's ok.” He soothes your worry away, large hand gripping your ass as he continues to grind down.

You do as he says, wrapping them around his torso, locking your ankles at the base of his spine. He winces only once before focusing all his concentration on pumping in and out, in and out. Making sure to tilt his pelvis on the upward thrust, simultaneously stimulating that spot deep within you and brushing your clit.

This was it. Fading embers reignited as flames slowly fanned across your lower abdomen. Your brain is all but mush, yearning for a release that only he can provide.

“I'm close.” He hisses out with a grunt, burying his head into your neck. His breath fans hot across you as he starts to whine and mutter. “M’gonna fill this pussy full. F–fuck my goddamn load so far into you. Mmpmh, is that– that’s what you want?”

A few more erratic thrusts before he pushes in so deep that his head is kissing the crown of your cervix. Your walls clamp down around him, holding him in place before his cock twitches and begins to spurt his release into your greedy womb.

Your body reacts suddenly, hot white heat floods your core with the hardest orgasm you've ever experienced. Everything around you seems to fade, as a blinding white light bursts behind your eyelids. Your cunt spasms around him, milking everything he had to give, he groans almost painfully but the sound seems so far away. If you weren't lying underneath him you would have sworn you could float away.

Your chests heave against one another as his body goes limp, crushing you in the best possible way. The lust fueled haze was extinguished with your release, leaving you tired and spent.

His softening dick kicks up a few more times making you whimper as your legs and arms fall away from him, utterly and completely exhausted.

You're pulled out of your blissful afterglow when he pulls your panties from your mouth. Humming as you close your mouth, dry and parched, smacking your lips together softly.

You still had your eyes closed, as his hand comes tp to caress your jaw, thumb running tenderly across the apple of your cheek as you both came down from your highs.

“You ok?” He asked timidly, as you nod with a “mmhmm.”

“I didn't hurt you, did I?” The sweet, caring best friend returning to his senses, as you reply a low “no.”

“Good.” He whispers back, pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth.

“Steve?” Managing to croak out, voice hoarse and rough.

“Hmmnh?” He manages, eyes fixated where the two of you were still connected, finally pulling his softening cock free, your mixed fluids flooding from your spent hole. He had the urge to shove it back in, but stopped himself.

“I was going to jump in first,” you whispered out, as his head shot up to look at you. You were completely dazed, on the verge of sleep.

“What?” He asked, easing himself back, eyes roving over your body littered with bruises and bitemarks. Proof that he hadn't experienced some sort of upside down drug induced hallucination.

“The lake.” You hummed. “Robin stopped me.” Yawning before continuing. “I would've jumped in first.”

“Yeah?” He asks, smiling softly to himself, easing beside you, brushing the loose strands of hair from your face. Spending a few more minutes tangled up in you, before the weight of reality would inevitably come crashing back down.

“Mmhmm. I'd go anywhere with you.” You confess, wrapping your arms around his middle as he pulls you into his chest. If he's being completely honest with himself, he's been in love with you for years. He would've jumped in head first if the tables were turned, he just didn't want anything to happen to you.

“I know, honey. I'd—,” a loud banging at the front door startling you both from your daydream, as he rose up ready for anything.

He hurried to get his clothes back on, throwing your bra and shirt up to you as he walked out into the hall leaving you to get dressed.

He could hear muffled voices behind the door. Your friends had circled back to find you.

Everyone stopped talking as soon as he threw open the door looking a little worse for wear.

“Oh thank God!” Robin was the first to speak, reaching out and grabbing his shoulders. “What the hell happened to you?”

“We're fine Rob,” Stepping back and letting them enter the small space, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “The bats chased us here, stuck around a while but we're fine.”

They were all chatting when you finally walked into the room clearing your throat as everyone whipped their heads around, eyes all going a little wide at your appearance.

Robin's gaze flitted your neck, as she sent you a knowing look, raising her eyebrows causing you to pull the collar of your shirt over the exposed skin as your cheeks heated.

“Seriously?!” She smacked Steve's arm, looking wide eyed back to him. “Down here? I mean, it's about time. You've only been dying to confess your feelings for wh—”

“Robin!” He hissed out, cutting off her rambling. “Stop!”

She slapped her hand over her mouth, looking over to your confused expression.

“Can uh, you guys give us a minute?” He asked, hands falling to his hips, as they all looked between each other before heading back out the door. Robin mouthed a “sorry” your way, shutting the door behind her.

“Feelings, huh?” Toeing at a small rock on the floor instead of meeting his gaze.

“Fuck. Well, yeah. It's you. How could I not?” He sighed. “But, we seriously don't ever have to talk about this again. Pretend it never happened and feelings aside, you're still my best friend.”

“What if I don't want to forget?” You bit the inside of your lip as your mouth curled into a shy grin. “And…” Taking a step toward him. “What if I told you I had feelings for you too?”

“Yeah?” He asked, reaching out to haul you in close, as you took another step.

“Yeah.” Your hands taking hold of Eddie's vest, curling into his chest. “And, once we get out of here, maybe we can try all of this again?” His face lit up, as you smiled at him. “Without the raging, horny sex pollen?”

You both huffed a laugh, relaxing into each other.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that.” He nods, excitement blooming in his chest.

“C’mon handsome, let's get out of here.” Your hand found his, sending him a small giggle as you pulled him toward the door to rejoin your friends.

Despite the dismal cloud looming above he had a feeling that everything would work out this time.

Tagging a few mooties that might be interested (and please let me know if you don't want to be tagged!): @thecreelhouse @teen--marvel @bunnyhargrove @xxbimbobunnyxx

And also: @crybabyddl (since you asked!) 🙂

#steve harrington #steve harrington sex pollen #sex pollen #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #joe keery #steve harrington fic #stranger things #steve harrington x y/n

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spectral-phases · 26 days ago

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I need people to stop getting so precious about Clark "not letting" Bruce kill the Joker after Jason’s death post-Crisis. Everyone acts like it was like this:

But it was more:

So, we all know the story. Actually. Wait. Maybe we don't. So. The story beneath the cut.

Jason got benched as being Robin because he was not dealing well with his parents' deaths, felt like he was no longer wanted because he was adopted specifically to be Robin (and Bruce is shit at making his kids feel loved a lot of times). Jason discovered the woman who raised him was his step mother, not his bio mother. He goes looking for bio mom. Finds bio mom, she hugs him and tells him she's missed him so much, Bruce contemplates letting Jason live with his family if that would make him happier despite being obviously cut up about the idea of losing Jason. Bio mom is being extorted by the Joker to let him ship out Joker Venom disguised as medical supplies because he can't just steal the supplies and sell them. Bruce has to go stop the shipment of Joker Venom, his portable chopper is too small for two, so Jason is left behind. Jason is told to wait, but The Killing Joke just happened and his bio mom is alone with the Joker (who is insane, capricious and evil), so, obviously he has to save his mother and could not wait. Bio Mom is outside, no guards, Jason says, "Hey, I'm actually Robin, I'm here to save you from the Joker" and she says "Nah, he's actually gone, so I'm fine. But let's go inside so I can grab my things and we can leave." Her things turn out to be a gun to point at Jason after leading him to the Joker. Jason is too stunned to move. The Joker and his goons beat Jason up and then the Joker uses the crowbar to finish beating him to a presumed death. His bio mom at some point couldn't bear to watch it anymore and turns around to smoke a cigarette. Once Joker’s done, bio mom asks what they're going to do about Batman, and the Joker is all "oh. Yeah, lol. Probably was a bad idea to kill his kid. Whoops. My bad." And then ties up the bio mom to kill her and erase any evidence he brutally attacked/killed Jason. The Joker sets a bomb on a timer and leaves. Jason uses the last of his strength to untie his bio mom so she can escape. He can't see well enough to try and disarm the bomb. She tries to get them both out. The door is locked. Jason shields her as the bomb goes off, but she dies just as Batman comes up and tells him the Joker did it, calls Jason a hero, says he deserved a better mother (he did) but does not/is unable to own up to her part in Jason’s death before dying herself. Bruce finds Jason’s body and is fucking devastated.

So after that, Bruce chases the Joker down to the UN because the Joker lucked into being a diplomat for Iran and is now meeting at the UN assembly in New York. Bruce is 100% set on doing a premeditated murder of the Joker for Jason. The US government is aware of this. They hire Superman to grab Batman to try and talk him down because the Joker has diplomatic immunity for past crimes. It does not go well.

"That’s the law, not Justice." Batman is 100% still going to kill the Joker. Everyone knows. Superman knows. Superman says the stupid thing is putting vengeance above the interests of the country, not killing Joker.

Batman sneaks into the Joker’s room, and the Joker (forgetting his earlier desire to not get fucking killed by Batman) is like "oh man, I wish I could have seen your face when you found his body" and further needles Bruce with a "Or are you here to thank me for getting rid of him for you?" Making Bruce triple down on killing the Joker.

"Your confirming it makes what I have to do a lot easier."

Bruce manages to get in to observe the UN meeting as Bruce Wayne. Superman is disguised as a guard. Bruce is seething, watching the Joker, knowing that is the guy who killed Jason.

"I should have terminated his vile existence years ago. But I didn't. I couldn't. His insanity gained him a stay of execution. But no longer. ... Jason’s dead."

They both know the Joker is too stupid and lacks the impulse control needed to not attack the UN and immediately lose his immunity, which is the only thing keeping him alive. Joker releases Joker Venom to kill the delegates. Superman super breathes to inhale all the gas, which he's immune to because he's Superman and then says this as he leaves to go find a place to release the poison gas safely.

"Batman, he's all yours."

Superman basically says "You can kill him now" because he knows Batman’s mind has not changed, and Superman had not once tried to say "killing Joker would be wrong" just that it couldn't happen before the Joker acted in a way that lost him his immunity.

And Bruce does go to do just that. He chases the Joker down, intent to kill, and jumps onto the helicopter the Joker is using to escape. One of the guys fires at Batman. It shoots the pilot, hits the Joker in damn near his heart, if not his heart, and Batman realizes the helicopter is going down and decides to jump and leave the Joker behind. He intends for the Joker to die in the crash.

Okay? Bruce was 100% going to kill the Joker for killing Jason. Superman said "hang on. Let him get enough rope to hang himself first and then you can do it." And then Joker only survived because comic books. And Bruce is unhappy about having to wait. Superman did not try to talk Bruce out of killing the Joker at all ever, or scold him for wanting to kill the Joker. (Don't say he was rescuing the Joker in that last panel. The next panel is Superman fishing Batman, who is shot in the arm, from the harbor, and Batman telling Superman to go find the body. Find the body! And Superman does go to do just that, but is unable to).

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

#batman #superman #the Joker #Jason Todd #dc #bruce wayne #clark kent #I cast “read the comics”#spes talks #Jason shouldn't be told Superman stopped Batman from killing the Joker #The Joker only isn’t dead because plot armor #Batman was 100% willing and able to kill the Joker #and no force in heaven or earth was going to stop him #not even Superman #Not that Superman really tried to stop Batman to start with #this has been sitting in my drafts for a bit #but I have now seen this superman stopped batman from killing Joker #argument too many times to not post it

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candy69gurl · 8 months ago

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INSUBORDINATION

PAIRING Toji Fushiguro x f!reader

SYNOPSIS The reader, a young woman of wealth, is married to Toji and consistently treats him as her servant, much to his dismay. Fed up with her behavior, Toji resolves to teach her a lesson.

WARNING non/con, brat taming, spitting, face fucking, hair pulling, spanking, face slapping, fingering, nipple play, missonary, bondage (hands tied only), cock riding, squirting, doggy style, multiple orgasms, degradation, use of vulgar words (dog, bitch, slut, whore, cum slut), humiliation, raw sex (cumming inside mouth, creampie, face cumming), breeding kink, clit slapping & rubbing, man handling

Marrying this seemingly charming and powerful Toji Fushiguro, you believed it imparted a greater benefit upon him than it did upon yourself. His overwhelming infatuation for you was not reciprocated, and instead, you treated him more as a pet than a partner. As a young, rich woman with an air of superiority, you demanded his obedience and submission, constantly reminding him of his place. You were unaware of the brewing storm inside him, waiting to unleash its fury upon you. Little did you know, the love and adoration he had for you were a ticking time bomb about to go off. The way he was treated drove him insane, pushing him to the brink of insanity, and he couldn't take it anymore.

"Hmm, so.. Toji I would like to talk to you, my dear", your eyes never leaving your nails.

Toji glares at you, his eyes smouldering with rage and lust stored inside him. Despite his inner turmoil, he forces a smile and responds, "My lady, I am here." His voice drips with false sincerity, reflecting the pain within him. It's clear that every moment spent serving you gnaws at his soul, fueling his desire to teach you a lesson you will never forget. Yet, he can't let you sense his true intentions - not yet.

He waits patiently, his muscles tensing beneath his clothes, as he anticipates your command. His heart pounds wildly against his chest, and his mind racing with thoughts of revenge and domination. He knows that he's about to snap anytime.

"I need you to stop wasting my money on gambling", your gaze finally shifts from your nails to Toji, who's standing before you with his head bowed.

A chill runs down Toji's spine as he hears your words. Your demand has cut him deeper than any blade could, igniting a firestorm of emotions within him.

How can he possibly stop himself from doing that? It's his sole means of earning money for himself. And it's not like he constantly relies on your finances for that. But the way you phrased your money, it really struck a nerve and left him feeling utterly humiliated. He understood that you were implying he should beg you for money, but that's something he would never do.

He tries to maintain his composure, swallowing the bitter taste that filled his mouth. With a stiff nod, he replies, "As you wish, my lady. I shall cease all gambling activities and dedicate myself entirely to your needs. But I would like you to stop ordering me around"

"Excuse me? who do you think you are?", one of your eyebrows raised, utterly confused by his sudden back-talk.

Toji's eyes flash with defiance, and his voice take on a dangerous edge, "I am your husband, a man scorned and abandoned. I have given you everything I have, my love, my heart, my trust. Yet, I receive nothing in return. I am sick of being treated like a mere toy. My passion for you burns like a thousand suns, and it is time you recognized my worth!" His face contorts with rage and hurt, his entire body trembling with suppressed power. "Do not mistake my patience for weakness, for I am far from it. One day, you will learn the consequences of disregarding those who truly care for you."

Your countenance remain devoid of emotion as he uttered those words. Instead, you advance towards him, drawing nearer... and nearer... until you stand face-to-face. Despite his height advantage, you are aware of the superiority you hold.

In an instant, your hand delivers a sharp slap to his face, causing his head to jerk to the right. "How dare you talk to me like that?"

Your slap lands across Toji's cheek with a loud smack, jolting him back to reality. His eyes widen, shock etching lines onto his face. For a brief moment, he stand frozen, the sting of your hand burning a trail across his pale skin. Then, without warning, his expression twists into one of pure fury. In a single, fluid motion, he grabs your wrist and pins you on the ground.

"GET OFF ME YOU SICKO", you scream.

Toji snarls, his eyes blazing with a feral intensity. "No, little miss high-and-mighty, I decide when this ends. You've played your games, and now it's time to pay the price," he growls, his grip on your wrist tightening. He leans closer, his hot breath washing over your face as he whispers, "You thought I was weak and submissive, but you sorely underestimated me. I am a man consumed by desire and rage, and I will make you pay for your cruelty."

His other hand moves to fondle with your clothed breasts, "Coming to think of it.. I never touched.. Maybe tonight is the time .. I finally discover your secrets."

"Don't even think of it.. Move your filthy hands off me!!" your legs pushing his chest away from your body.

Toji's eyes narrow, his lips curling into a predatory smile. "Oh, I think I've already discovered your secrets, my dear. You're just as desperate for my touch as I am for yours. You can scream all you want, but no one will come to save you. You're mine, and I will have my way with you."

His grip on your wrist intensifies and he begins to move his hand lower, towards your thigh. "You've pushed me too far, and now it's time for you to learn a lesson you'll never forget. I'll make you beg for my touch, and when I'm done, you'll be mine completely."

"I should have kept a body guard..", your eyes get teary as you start feeling vulnerable. The thing that you hated the most.

Toji's eyes flicker with a hint of victory at your admission. "Yes, perhaps you should have," he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. "But it's too late now. There's no one coming to save you."

His fingers trail along the edge of your clothing, teasingly close to bare skin. "I plan to make it as painful and pleasurable as possible. You'll come to cherish these moments, begging for more, even as you curse my name."

His eyes gleam with malicious intent as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "Every benefit you receive carries a price; for the service I've rendered you over the years, my dear wife, I require my due compensation. I'm not interested in payments via cheque, cash, or phone apps. I seek recompense through your body."

"I will never.. ever.. submit to you .. Toji Fushiguro..", you land kick on his side, attempting to run away from his grasp, yet he remains unaffected. He does grunt as your kick connected with his side, but he doesn't release you. Instead, he smirks, his gaze heated. "You.. Keep struggling, but you're only making this worse for yourself. Give in to me, let me show you the pleasure you've denied yourself for so long."

Slowly, he slides his hand underneath your clothing, his fingertips brushing against your skin unclasping your bra, taking it off you easily. You squirm beneath him, but his grip remains firm, unwavering.

"D-dont do it ..", you try squirming again.

Toji's lips twitch into a cruel grin. "Ah, but I must. After all, I promised to teach you a lesson, and I always keep my promises." His fingers continues their relentless exploration, caressing your nipple gently before pinching it firmly.

"Feel it, wife. Feel the pleasure I can give you, even as I punish you. Let your body betray your reluctance, let it crave what you claim to despise." He leans in closer, his breath ghosting over your ear as he whispers, "And remember, this is all ya fault. You made me this way."

You buck beneath him, trying to escape his grasp, but his hold on you unyielding. He pushes your top up, yanking it off you, exposing your breasts.

"S-stop ..", your hands escapes his grip swiftly, trying to hide your bare chest from his monstrous gaze.

Toji's eyes roams over your exposed body hungrily, drinking in the sight of your exposedness for the first time. "Such beauty, wasted on someone like you..."

He reaches out, his finger trailing down your sternum, then moving to your neck, causing goosebumps to rise. Your hands pushing his face, gripping his hair, trying to yank him off you.. But everything fails. And you know if you try hitting him, it'll enrage him further. Your hits are nothing in comparison to the hits requried to knock this giant man down.

Toji chuckles darkly, his grip on you unbreakable. "You cannot escape me, my dear. Not tonight." His fingers dance lightly along your collarbone, tracing patterns that sent chills down your spine. "You wanted control, you craved dominance, and now you shall experience both in equal measure."

As his fingers reaches your breast, he gently slapped your hands and, cupped your breasts, squeezing slightly before letting go. His eyes sparkling with mischief as he watches you writhe under his touch. "Soon, you'll beg for more."

Refusing to yield, you remain steadfast in your refusal to submit to him. You attempt to land kicks once again, this time more haphazardly and with greater force.

Toji catches one of your legs easily, his eyes gleaming with a mix of anger and lust. "Keep struggling, wife. Make it harder on yourself." He responds, his voice thick with emotion. His gaze lingers on your body, taking note of every twitch and shiver.

With a swift movement, he rolls you onto your stomach, restraining your arms behind your back, squeezing your face on the ground. His veins bulged on his hands as he gripped your hair tightly, pressing your cheeks against the cold floor with force.

Toji smirked, enjoying the fight in you. He pressed his body against yours, his erection evident through his clothes. "What happened to the lioness?" he mocked. "Got defeated by a mere dog?"

He reaches for your hefty priced skirt, ripping it down, revealing your bare ass. His hand hovers over it for a moment before bringing it down, delivering a sharp slap. You cry out in surprise and pain, arching your back.

"Fuck you that dress's worth is more than yours", Toji's eyes fall on your reddened teary-face. He gazes for a while before laughing cruelly, the sound echoing in the quiet room.

"Is that all you can muster, a reprimand for my actions? I thought you'd beg for mercy by now." His hand falls again, this time harder, the sting of the slap searing through your body.

"You are tough I must say" He speaks, his voice dark and heavy with emotion. His eyes flash with mischief as he prepared for his next move.

"L-let me go now", your tone somehow shifts to a plea.

He looks down at your red, angry cheeks and puffy lips, his gaze shifting to your ass, the imprints of his five fingers are distinctly visible on your skin. "Shall I?"

"YOU WILL LET ME GO BASTARD i WILL KILL YOU," you yell at him, hating the way he was treating you, as if he owns you.

Toji pulls you up by your hair, leaning closer to your face, "Looks like you haven't learned your lesson yet. Need to shut that big mouth,"

You forcefully expel saliva from your mouth, deliberately directing it towards his face, "Never."

Toji's face flashes with a grin as he wipes off your spit from his face and licks his finger, his grip on your hair tightening. "Nasty bitch!" he snarls. His free hand frees his erection and you gasp on seeing how big he is. Big enough to nearly kill you.

"W-what the fuck do you think you are doing", you swallowed in anticipation.

Without responding, he pulls your mouth towards his erection, rubbing the tip on your swollen lips.

Your hands reach up to squeeze his shaft, intending to hurt him. Toji winces, his eyes flashing with pain and anger. "You really don't want to die, do you?" His voice shaking with fury as he grasps your wrists, locking them on either side of his legs, his precum leaking shaft rubbing against your cheek. "This is your punishment, and you're going to take it like a good girl."

Despite your resistance, he thrusts his erection into your mouth, forcing you to take him off. You could barely take in his entire length as drool cascades down your chin and your neck swells with every push. You struggle but he remains firm, so you use your teeth, nibbling on his dick.

Toji hisses in pain and anger, releasing you. "You fucking cunt! I should've known better." He slaps you, causing you to cry out in agony. "That's for biting me!" He grabs your hair again, pulling your head toward his dick and begins to thrust roughly.

"Hnghh-", tears stream down your cheeks, smudging your flawless makeup.

Toji's eyes squint seeing you cry, his lips curling up trying to hide his laugher. "Crying? That's cute. You're crying while servicing me!" His grasp on your head tightens as he keeps fucking your throat relentlessly. "Didn't think you could handle it huh? Too bad, because this is just beginning!"

Your eyes twitching in anger, you keep making noises of struggles.

Toji's thrusts increasing in speed. "Shut up, you ungrateful whore! This is what you deserve!" He slamms into you harder, ignoring your protests.

Why is he acting like that all of a sudden? You never thought the man you married is going to treat you like this. But yes karma, you have hurt him, you made him like this. HE IS RIGHT, you deserve this.

His grip tightened on your hair, his thrusts growing more violent until you screamed, tears streaming down your face. Finally, he cums, flooding your mouth with his seed. "Swallow it. I want to see your Adam's apple moving."

You involuntary swallow his seed. Toji stares at you, his breathing ragged, his eyes fixated on the sight of you swallowing his semen. "Good dog," he sneers, wiping his shaft clean.

You wipe your mouth weakly, "I will never forgive you. You are gonna face the consequences."

Toji chuckles coldly, releasing you. "Oh, the night just started.." He picks you up walking towards your bedroom.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT.. WE ARE DONE.. I AM GOING TO FUCKING DIVORCE YOU", you throw punches on his spine, your nails scratcing his clothed back.

Ignoring your threats, Toji places you on bed, tying your hands with his XXL tshirt to the headboard. His eyes glinting with excitement. "We're far from done, darling. Now, spread your legs, or shall I do it for you?"

"You are not allowed to touch me.. TOJI FUSHIGURO!"

Toji grins wickedly," Oh yeah?", with a swift movement he pulls your panties off you. You legs hiding your core from his gaze. His eyes locked on your resistant form. " He reaches down, spreading your legs apart with force. Your protest is soon silenced by a hard slap accross your clit.

"Now Now.. Look at that," he gathers your wetness with his finger and licks it, "Taste of a bitch in heat."

You bite your lower lip from embarassment. Toji's eyes darkens with lust, his fingers running through your damp entrance, teasing your hole. "You're so wet, yet you are protesting? Ah, I love it." He smirks before inserting his finger inside you, feeling you tense. His eyes searching for your reaction.

"You are lying.. It's not possible-", you still keep on protesting.

Toji pulls his finger, "Hmm?" He raises his eyebrow at you, "Am I? Prove me wrong!" He inserts another finger, stretching you wide. You gasp, arching your back. "Mmm, see for yourself", he then pulls his fingers out. He holds his fingers near your face, covered in your essence, "See?", forcing them into your mouth making you taste yourself.

Your eyes widening, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Toji's eyes gleam triumphantly, his fingers finding their way back inside you. "Pretend all you want, but your body knows the truth." His thumb rubbed your clit, expecting a moan from you. "You want to feel my cock inside you, and let us both know the truth."

"D-do what you want.. but I will not moan."

Toji's grin never wavered as he pulled out his finger. "Stubborn till the end, aren't we?"

He adjusts his position above you, his erection poised to enter you. "Very well, but you won't be able to help yourself soon enough." Before you can react, he thrusts into you roughly, invading your core. He groans at the tightness, his pace increasing.

Your hands tugging on the restraint, eyes watering again from the invasion. He leans in, whispering in your ear, "Let me hear it, your pleasure."

"F-fuck fuck.. pull it out already.. Toji", you nearly beg him.

Toji does not pull out instead he leans back, his dick sliding inside you further hitting your womb as tears spill out of your eyes from the stretching.

"Ohh.. What a sight to behold! The mistress is crying.. Is that how you request your controller?", he slows down a little.

"Please.. Toji... pull it out already", you feel your insides getting ripped everytime he pushes himself in you.

Toji laughs darkly, "Call me master Toji"

"Bastard", you reply.

He starts thrusting, roughly and harshly. "You want to die?"

"Pls master toji .. It's tearing me," your voice shaking with pain and confused pleasure.

His thrusts slows down again, his eyes scanning your tear-streaked face. "That's right. Who owns you?"

"Y-you..", you reply, your self respect crumbled against Toji's feet.

He smiles cruelly, "Mmm... What's that? I wanted to pull out, but your walls are not allowing me to." with that he keeps slamming into you. This time gentlier than before. Your face twisting in anger and tears.

"No, no..." he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your forehead softly. "It's alright. Embrace your submissive nature. You'll thank me later." His thrusting intensifies, his pace accelerating. You whimper, unable to control your pleasure. "It feels good hah?"

"N-no it does not," you lie. Toji's eyes glint at your lie. 'We will see about that" as he speeds up his thrusts, pulling your nipple causing you to cry even louder.

Suddenly moan escapes from your mouth, biting your lips you hide your shift your head right avoiding eye contact with him.

"There it is!" he whispers, his thrusts growing more erratic. "Didn't you just say, you won't moannn?" his mocking evident. "That's it, let go! Enjoy it!" He rams into you, owning you fully.

Your eyes locking on his again. "You look so beautiful, when you are this vulnerable and submissive." His words, punctuated by his thrusts, your moans filling the air. "So obedient..."

Your walls tighten, your climax reaching soon. Toji's thrusts slow down as he realizes your nearness. "Not yet..." He pulls his dick out, causing you to cry out.

"I decide when you cum. Remember that." He reaches down, playing with your clit. "Beg for it."

You look at him, your mind still not wanting to give in.

"Beg for it, or I will keep doing this the whole night" He repeats, his voice firm.

He strokes his cock, your eyes widened, realizing the threat. "Please Toji, let me cum.." Your voice trembled, your body tensing.

"Please what?", he smirks biting his lips.

"P-Please master..", you pout after saying the words.

Toji smirks, placing the tip back to your entrance. "Complete the sentence," he rubs your wet, puffy clit with his tip.

"P-Please master toji let me cum", your respect for yourself almost vanished as your eyes begged for him.

"Louder" He pushes his tip inside you, painfully slow.

"PLEASE MASTER TOJI LET ME CUM.. PLEASE .. I BEG OF YOU"

Toji lets out a satisfied growl, thrusting deep. "That's more like it, my good slave." He pounds you mercilessly, your pleas for release filling the air. "Cum. For me."

Your body tenses, toes curl as you orgasm hard, walls spasming rapidly against his cock. Toji watches your orgasm unfurl, his dick pulsating inside you. "Mmm, nice." He thrusts faster, his climax approaching. "Fuck, yes. So tight.. I never imagined you felt this good." He grunts, his breath hitched, his release imminent. "Gonna fill you up. Bet you won't remain selfish anymore once you have your own baby."

Only moans come out of you as he thrusts into your oversensitive pussy. Toji finishes his thrusts, spilling himself inside you, pulling out just to see his seed drooling out of your clamping walls. "Shit.. Look at that, so dirty", he pushes his dick inside you again, watching your body shuddering.

You mutter a low appologise as your breathing starts becoming stable once again. "Oh so now ya guilty?" Toji laughs, his dick twitching inside you still, he's getting hard once again. He pulls his dick out and drags you onto his lap.

He caresses your cheek, "Do you think I can ever forgive you baby? with all these years of disrespect that you flung at me?" his other hand pats your ass. "I dont want to hear your apologies. I will divorce you just like that."

You feel as though everything is falling apart around you. It's the last thing you expected to hear from him. You know you love him, but you chose to ignore your feelings up until this point. "Pls master.. d-dont divorce me .. I love you", you lean towards him, kissing his cheek.

Toji's eyes flickered for a moment, as you kiss his cheek. "Wow.. Just an orgasm out of you, put you in your place? Perhaps.. There's only one way to change my mind", he licks his tongue wanting to push your buttons. You look at him expectantly.

Toji's eyes sparked with devious delight "Show me how much you love me, my slave".

Sighing, you take his erect cock and insert it inside of you. You begin to flex and extend your hips along his girth.

Toji watches as you ride him, his eyes never leaving you, his eyes twinkling. "Mmm, nothing sexier than a woman in need," He growls, grabbing your hips and pushing you into his hips. "Ride it harder!" He groans, moving along with your rhythm. You nod and increase your pace, bouncing harder, his veins popping on his forehead.

"Impressive, but more!" His hands move to your neck, pulling you closer. "Yes.. Open your mouth whore" He grips your throat gently, tightening his hold.

You open your mouth, and Toji spits in it, "Swallow it". Without any delay you swallow it.

Toji laughs, "How the tables turn, huh?"

You lean to kiss him, but he grabs your neck not allowing you to get closer to him. "I don't want to kiss your nasty mouth bitch"

"P-please master toji.. kiss me", you beg him, hands reaching to caress his hand on your neck.

"Hmm?" he whispers, "Why would I do that?" He tightens his grip, making it harder for you to breathe. You gasp, your eyes locking with his.

"I am sorry," you cry and pout, hips slamming against his pubis while riding him.

"Apologizing?" He loosens his grip, allowing you to breathe easier. "Now that's better." He watches you, how you are engulfing his cock with each movement.

"Still want my kiss?" He taunts, as he release his grip on your neck.

"Yes.. please.. Kiss me"

Toji captures your lips, his tongue invading your mouth. You moan, wrapping your arms around his neck. He groans, the taste of your submission sweet. "Mmm, such a good slave." He pulls away, "Appology accepted". His mouth leans in to latch onto one of your breasts, tongue circling your nipples and his cheeks hollowing.

Unable to control yourself you squirt all over him. He grunts at your sudden tightness. "What the fuck- so tight ah.." He removes his dick from you, putting you on your knees and hands. "Pissing like a dog? Want me to piss on you too?"

"S-sorry master, I was unable to control myself", your eyes rolled from the experience, collapsing on the bed.

Toji spanks your ass, bringing you to your knees. He lines up his dick to your entrance, holding you steady. "Ya looking like a used slut." His dick slides in your entrance, stretching you again. You whine and whimper, thighs shaking from the ecounters before.

"So sensitive..", Toji scoffs.

"Please .. I am near .. fuck me harder", your voice pleading, eyes rolled, drools driping down your chin.

Toji's thrusts speed up, taking you from behind. "Such an Insatiable cum slut " He groans, his voice hoarse. "Tell me how much you want my cum inside you."

"Fill me up pls.... I am master Toji's cumdump"

Toji roars, slamming into you. "Mmm, yes. My cum dump bitch." He releases inside you, feeling you cum and contract around his dick. He pulls out, watching his seed dripping out of you. His eyes lingered over your pussy, "Maybe you deserve a reward after all."

Your whole body convulses. Toji pulls himself out, "Do you want the reward?"

"Please.. reward me master .. I am your good slave," you falter.

Toji smiles, "Very well, my pet. You're a good slave then" He licks your thighs "Mmm, I love you. But if you dare to disappoint me again..." His teeth nibbling on your clit, making you moan loudly. "You know where you stand." He coos and blows on your wetness, licking you clean. Your body trembles, his tongue exploring your folds.

Toji moans, licking your and his cum.. He suckles your clit, his tongue dancing around. A huge cum drop falls on his tongue which he thrusts inside you again.

"Such a good slave, you'll give me a healthy pup" He hums, kissing your inner thighs. Your breath hitches, your orgasm nearing.

Unable to make out anything, you keep taking the pleasure he gives you.

Toji chuckles, his pace unrelenting. "Make me feel needed, slut" He tongue flicks your clit, you shaking. "Cum for me girl" He pinches your clit, your juice flowing freely. "Ahh, so fucking delicious..."

"Gonna cum .. Love you Toji .. a-ah", you blabber. "Yes, my whore. Go ahead" He growls, licking your juice dripping on his lips. Your thighs wrap around him, cumming again. He licks your cum from his tongue, your legs trembling.

"Good girl". He kisses your neck then pulling you closer to his dick.

"Clean your mess from it" He whispers.

Toji breathes heavily, your mouth enveloping his half-hardened dick. It gets hard again, "Mmm, yes, clean it nicely" He cups your head, his shaft coats in your saliva. "Like that, slut" His hand affectionately messes your hair, your moaning muffled. "So good... God.. I should have done this a lot earlier." He watched you swallow his dickhead, your saliva running down your chin. He laughs, his breaths hitched.

You suck on his balls while he strokes his length, "You know how to make a man happy" he whispers. He pulls you by your hair rubbing his dick on your cheeks.

He leans back, hips jerking. "Mmm, shoot!", his cum splattering across your face, your tongue sticking out, trying to catch some cum drops. He smiles, wiping your face.

"Mmm, so obedient, my little cum dump" He whispers, kissing your lips. "You did great today and if you dare to mistreat me again.."

"I will put you in your place.. Like how I did today."

DIVIDERS FROM @/cafekitsune

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snaileer · 1 year ago

Text

Wrong Number? Wrong Answer.

It was the usual deal that the Justice League Dark dealt with… way too often honestly.

Initially, it had been just Wonder Woman, investigating a cult that had attempted to abduct her earlier in the month.

Diana had defeated them. Easily. Of course. But upon questioning them, their reasoning had concerned her.

They had attacked her for a ritual to open the ‘Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep’, a ritual which required ‘a blade blackened by the ichor of time.’

Once again, she was being targeted for her parentage. Did it ever end?

Of course, she questioned them further, what other ingredients did they need, what artifacts they would be hurting others to create.

A ring carved from the bone of an unfreed slave.

A crown made of lava untouched by human hands.

And sand directly from the pouch of Dream of the Endless themself.

It was an eclectic collection of items.

And yet, they had told her that only the blade remained to be created.

Again, it was concerning.

So Diana left the fools to be taken care of by men’s authorities, and focused on tracking down just what they were doing and if necessary, how to stop it.

After depleting her academic resources, and her connections within with nothing to show, Diana finally called in her friend through the league, Zatanna.

Zatanna had been frazzled by it, showing up in her living room before they’d even finished the call.

Together they tracked down the cult to Gotham… which was also a problem.

It was the reason why Diana was running through the caves beneath the crime ridden city with one of her closest friends in men’s world and a magician by her side.

All too quickly, they were surrounded by fanatics, each carrying sharp blades solely focused on her.

Working in sync with Batman and Zatanna throwing spells above them, Diana believed it would be a well-won battle.

Until a golden light flashed across the cave, blinding her for a precious second as she felt a sharp sting cut across her arm.

When her vision cleared, her arm was dripping blood and John Constantine stood in front of her.

“Sorry about that, love,” Constantine smirks, “No harm done?”

Diana’s teeth grind together as she turns away from him, fighting her way through more followers. The one who had injured her is nowhere to be seen, and the blade with them.

Even once the rest of the swarm is beaten, their numbers no longer being replenished, Diana does not feel content. The sense of danger lingers.

“Constantine.” Batman growls, “What are you doing in Gotham?”

The Brit rolls his eyes as he lights a new cigarette, “You know I don’t actually have to tell you every time I enter the city right? But besides, that’s news to me, portals are a tricky business, I’m tracking my own problem.”

Batman glares at him.

“Someone stole from me mate. And whatever they stole it for can’t be good, so I’m here ta get it back. Thought you’d be proud of something like that, Batsy, insteada leavin’ it for someone else?”

Batman’s eyes darken, “We’re tracking a group trying to open the Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep, is your artifact related to that?”

“Fucking shit it is yeah! Bollocks I didn’t think they’d be using the dream sand for something like that, what sort of mannies are these?!” Constantine exclaims, hastily grinding his cigarette beneath his shoe.

“Hn.”

Suddenly, there’s a rattling boom, the ground and walls shaking around them as dust rains down and they are all forced into stabilizing stances.

They barely share a glance before all three are running down the hall to the source, Constantine left scrambling to keep up.

The scene they come to is equal parts confusing as it is problematic.

The cultists are each in states of disrepair, crusting on the edges or yelling at their leader. The leader is the first to notice their arrival.

“You! You say you are a child of Zeus and yet your blood does not work! You lie of your ancestry!”

Diana steps forward, “I do not! I am the daughter of Queen Hippolyta and Zeus, grandchild of Kronos! The fault of your magic does not lie with me!”

The leaders face twists, mouth open to shout, but a flash of gold slams into him.

“Z, the book!” Constantine yells, arms outstretched as he flings more spells at the surrounding people, glowing ropes binding each.

“On it! Etativel em dna eht koob!” Zatanna shouts, lifting into the air as a book the leader had been holding flies into her hands.

Immediately she begins turning pages with desperation, “Wohs em eht stsitluc lleps!”

The book flips to a distinct page, and Zatanna’s face drains of color.

“Batman, we need to be careful, this spell looks legitimate, we might still have a risk on our hands.”

Batman hummed, looking at the chalk lines of the summoning circle drawn out before them, drawing Diana to do the same. Looking closely at the artifacts placed at each cardinal direction, including a short dagger with her blood nearly completely dry on the flat of the blade.

Batman moves towards the gathered and bound cultists as both magicians whisper over the spell.

Diana continues to look out on the evidence of the ritual, confusion warring in her.

She lays a hand on the lasso at her side. She knew she had not been lying about her heritage, so then why….

‘A blade blackened by the ichor of time.’

She looks at the bloodied dagger once more. It didn’t make sense, even if they had managed to harm a godly descendent, pure ichor would be gold; and even her blood was simply a humanly deep crimson red, not black; not until it-

Diana lunges towards the knife, fingertips brushing its hilt just as her blood dries a flaky black.

Her body slams into the cave walls in the next second, percussive force rippling through the air.

She crumples to the ground, struggling to lift her head.

White boots pass in front of her eyes.

She watches as they move towards her colleague, her friend, only to be surprised as they stop in front of the cultists instead.

As the air returns to her body, Diana lifts herself up, shaking arms supporting her as the weight of the atmosphere presses down.

She looks at the being, the sight almost making her collapse once more.

Mist curls around its form like a mountain peak, iridescent light glowing near its head, pitch black night covering its body, the pinprick of stars so small you can’t see them straight on, claws like a falcon’s beak: unhidden and meant to tear apart. And more importantly, wrapped around the leaders neck.

““̵̨̮̣̀͊̓Y̷͖̊̒o̸̤͈͍͌̈́͘u̶̗̭̲̍ ̵̬̤̞̀̑ā̴̟r̸̹̝̉e̴̞̦̮͑̍ ̴̣̩̖͑̓͛a̷̮̞͍͊͆͝ ̶͍̀̈́́f̷̖̄ò̸͈̓͝ǫ̷̅̀̔l̶̹̥̹̋͌͠.̴̤̲̈́͋̀”̶̛̫̺̈́”

The voice rattles her heart within her chest. She watches as Batman continues to try and stand.

The cultist struggles against the hand, mumbling screams behind Constantine’s bind. The creature tears it off with one claw.

“We summ-moned-… the king! Pa-pariah-!“

The creatures hand barely twitches, but the cultist breaks off in a scream. She is surprised to note the other cultists react exactly alike. As if linked.

“̵̻͝Ý̷͚o̶͈͝u̷̦̐ ̶̆͜d̶͈̄ǐ̸̢d̵̲̓ ̴͖̽n̴̘̅ȯ̸͍t̵̛̯ ̴̫̐ŝ̵̗u̴̹̇m̶̨͠m̴̡̽o̴̱̐n̵̘͝ ̴̪̈h̴̨̀i̶͝ͅm̸̰͗.̴͍͆”̸͔̔ The creature growls, “À̴̳n̸̛̜d̶͒ͅ ̴̤̃y̸̬͝ǫ̸̒u̵̫͗ ̶̘͛a̴̫̐r̷̠̈e̶͂ͅ ̶͔̋ḽ̶̔ủ̷͜c̷̥̍k̴̲͊ÿ̸̯́ ̶͓́f̷͇͝o̷͎͒ŕ̴͇ ̶͔͝t̶̞̀h̸̲̉ȧ̸̮t̷̩͝.̷͔̍ ̵͙͐I̸͎͌f̶͖͛ ̶̜̇y̵̜͗o̴̩̍ṵ̶͆ ̵̫̈́h̴͛ͅā̴̼d̸̤͆…̵͍̈́i̵͍̐t̸̡̉ ̴̭͂w̷̥̔o̷̟̅u̴̪͂l̸̞̏d̵͚̀ ̵͓̃b̴̢̽e̵̗͠ ̸͕̉m̸̠͆u̶̖͘c̷̯͘h̴̤̎ ̸̥́w̷͚͝o̸͐ͅr̶̦͐s̵̨̿e̸͕͆ ̸̙̑f̴̧̂o̶̱̓ȓ̷̟ ̴̠͗ÿ̸̥́ö̵͜ŭ̶̟.̵͎̉”̶͍̀

The man whimpers under the claws.

"I̴n̷s̵t̴e̷a̵d̸,̶ ̵y̸o̷u̵ ̴g̵o̷t̶ ̷m̸e̸,̴I̴ ̶g̵u̸a̷r̶d̴ ̶h̶i̷s̵ ̶p̸r̸i̵s̵o̵n̶ ̶b̶e̷c̴a̷u̴s̶e̸ ̵I w̴a̸s̴ ̵t̴h̸e̷ ̸o̴n̸e̴ ̷t̸o̶ ̶p̵u̴t̵ ̴h̸i̴m̶ ̵t̴h̷e̸r̶e̴ ̵o̶n̵c̸e̵ ̶m̶o̸r̸e̸.̵”̴ The creature leans into the cultist, arching ever higher, angles sharpening, body distorting, "“̸̝͋a̵̱͋n̶͓͛d̵̘́ ̵̡̍f̷̱͊o̵͚̓r̷̪̎ ̴̭̑a̷̬̓s̷͙̅ ̷͍͌ĺ̵̫o̸̻͆ņ̵̀g̶̚ͅ ̷̬͌a̶̮̿s̵̩͊ ̸̫̌t̸̲̕h̸̢̉e̷̖͗ ̴̰̋c̸̹̀ȍ̸͎s̷̡̃m̵̥̍o̷̜͋s̷̗͐ ̴̜͆e̷̛̙x̸͓̑i̶͉̿s̸̹̀t̵̛̺,̴̡͠Í̷̢ ̷̣̽w̵̠͋i̶̺͒l̴̠͐l̸̮̃ ̴͍͌k̴̰̑e̸̠͐e̷̟͋p̵̲̏ ̸̙̂h̷̘͋ị̸́m̸͕̚ ̶̳̋t̶̡̒h̷̩͆e̷̪͝r̷̒͜e̵̡̔.̵̭͗”̵̮̔

There’s a dull flash as light flashes beneath the cultists skin, beneath all of the cultist’s skin, before they drop to the ground unconscious.

All too quickly, air returns to the room, pressure lifting like a deep breath into the room.

The creature turns, eyes meeting Diana’s for just a second as he turns towards the chalked lines of the circle. Diana lifts herself to her feet, drawing closer to Batman as they both watch him, hesitant.

On the other side of the room, Constantine and Zatanna also struggle to their feet, eyes filled with fear and caution as they take in the scene.

As the creature moves, mist still rolling off him in waves, his features fall away with it, gradually smoothing to a more human visage. It looks… young. Boyish.

Those same white boots crush down on the formed crown, the cooled lava rock crumbling under one step. Next is the ring, held carefully in two hands the creature whispers over it, breathy wind carrying it away as it turns to dust. He holds the blade with one hand, flakes disintegrating off as he lifts it.

Diana’s arm tingles.

Then the creature is standing in front of the last point, holding the small brown pouch of sand with consideration.

Silence reigns in the room.

Constantine, of course, is the one to break it.

“I believe that’s mine, mate,” he cuts in, stance still laden with suspicion.

“Oh?” The creature smiles, almost mockingly as he turns to Constantine, “Is it? If I wasn’t mistaken, this ritual calls for Dream’s sand. Are you Dream of the Endless, little magician?”

Constantine visibly swallows, “I’m not.”

The creature huffs a laugh, fangs glinting in his smirk. He moves swiftly, pivoting on one foot to toss the pouch at Constantine, “Catch.”

Constantine lurches forward to try and catch it, only to find it vanish in the air before it reaches his fingers.

The creature cackles, floating backwards, “What did you do to get your hands on such an amount of Dream’s sand, magician? I’m curious.”

“It was a family present,” Constantine grinds out as he turns back to the gently levitating humanoid form, “You can drop the kid facade by the way, you’re not tricking anyone here looking like that.”

The creature shrugs, “And if I’m comfortable like this?”

Diana steps in to stop Constantine from snapping back, “Who are you, spirit, to be summoned by such a ritual?”

The creature watches her for a beat, “I am Phantom of the Dead City, Protector of infinite realms. They did not bring me here, but I knew who they wished to summon and came because of it.”

Batman steps forward, voice interrogating, “The Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep-“

“Remains sealed. The Tyrant King remains trapped and at rest, do not worry.”

Somehow Diana does not think that soothes Batman, even as a great a warrior as he is.

“Hn.”

“Now, about that spell book,” Phantom turns to Zatanna, waving a hand and the book flies to him. He hovers a hand over it, and Diana watches in fascination as the chalk on the floor begins to burn away, the drawing in the book following.

Phantom looks at her once more, eyes too wise and strong for the age of his face, and then from one moment to the next, he is gone.

The book drops to the floor with a slam, cover open to aged blank pages as the last of the sigil burns away.

Hesitantly, Constantine goes to it, the rest of them following. When Constantine lifts the book with careful hands, they watch another image fade into view on the paper.

A cool colored image of Phantom rising over a city skyline outlined in green against a deep violet sky. Even on paper, his visage shifts constantly between the boyish figure and the ethereal danger of the form he’d appeared in.

Beneath the city lays a large coffin covered in chains.

The lock glows a pulsing toxic green before fading to a steely gunmetal grey and going still.

“Well that was the best encounter I’ve had with a dangerous dimensional figure and I still lost the dream sand.”

Zatanna’s slap echoes in the cave.

#batman #danny phantom #batfam #dc #danny fenton #batman and robin #danny phantom crossover #young justice #bruce wayne #wonder woman #dpxdc #cryptid Danny fenton #John Constantine #Zatanna Zatara #dpdc #dp

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enderlovez · 11 days ago

Text

Soft as a Feather

Spencer Reid x Female BAU Reader WORD COUNT: 869

Summary: You and Spencer have decided to keep your relationship private, but when he comes into work with a mysterious lipstick mark on his neck, everybody's asking questions he doesn't know how to answer... at least, that's until you come in and leave a strangely familiar kiss mark on his cheek.

Content Warning: kissing (does that even need a warning)

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

It's always the most wonderful feeling, waking up next to Spencer. Especially on mornings like this one—when he's still sleeping peacefully, the early-morning sunlight peeking through the curtains and somehow making him look even more like an angel than usual.

You cannot physically stop yourself from reaching out to him, brushing a lock of hair out of his face with your finger and tucking it behind his ear, smiling softly to yourself.

"What're you doing?" he asks groggily, eyes still closed, but a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, leaning forward and leaving a tiny peck on the tip of his nose, "I didn't mean to wake you, sweetheart."

"Didn't wake me," he tries to argue, but the sleep in his voice suggests otherwise.

You're a profiler, he should know by now that it's practically impossible to lie to you, especially since you know him like the back of your hand—better than the back of your hand, maybe.

"Whatever you say, Spence."

Unwilling to break the peaceful quiet you're both submerged in, you watch him a moment longer, before finally forcing your eyes away.

Spencer opens his eyes, watching as you push the blankets off yourself and get to your feet. "What're you doing now?"

"We do have a job to get to, Spencer," you remind him with a little chuckle.

He groans and rolls onto his back, stretching out his limbs. "Can't we just call in sick and stay here all day?"

You shake your head and hand him a pile of clothes before beginning to dress yourself. "Remember that huge case we need to get started on today—the one Hotch called about last night?"

Spencer sighs heavily, but nods and crawls out of bed, pulling on the clothes you've chosen for him. You've already left by the time he's finished getting dressed, standing in the kitchen and hurriedly trying to pour coffee into two travel cups.

"We'll need to leave now if we wanna get to work on time," you mumble as you hand him one of the two travel cups—the one with the little blue flowers printed along the bottom.

You press your lips firmly to the skin beneath his jaw, then again to his lips before practically flying out the door.

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

"Has our pretty boy finally found himself a pretty girl?"

Spencer flinches at the sudden voice beside him, turning to look at the smug grin on Morgan's face.

It wasn't like you and Spencer really wanted to keep your relationship a secret from your friends, but it was so much easier without the teasing and word-twisting that would surely come from Derek.

"What's this about Spencer having a girlfriend?"

Garcia suddenly appears beside Morgan, tilting her head curiously before her already-wide eyes widen further, nearly bulging out of their sockets.

"I don't know where either of you are getting that idea, but it's unprofessional in the workplace," Spencer mutters, his mind briefly flicking back to you.

You haven't come in yet, usually waiting a few minutes after Spencer goes in to avoid any suspicion.

"What's unprofessional is the—"

Morgan is abruptly cut off by your arrival, bursting through the doors in a flurry of positivity.

You don't say anything as you drop your things off at your desk and casually stroll over to where everyone's huddled. "There's a party at Spencer's desk, and I wasn't invited. I'm crushed, you guys!"

You and Spencer were close before, almost to a strange degree, which might be part of the reason nobody thought any different when the two of you got together, so nobody questions it when you lean down and leave a slobbery kiss on his cheek.

Nobody questions it, until you pull away from him, leaving behind a reddish-brown lipstick print on his cheek.

One that matches the one on his jaw perfectly.

Garcia's jaw drops in shock, and Morgan looks overjoyed. For selfish reasons, of course, but overjoyed nonetheless.

"When were you going to tell me you two were dating?" Garcia demands, almost angrily as you wipe away the print with a tissue from your pocket.

Both you and Spencer immediately freeze. You look like you've seen a ghost, all the color drained from your face, and Spencer is quite the opposite, his face red and hot. So... like he's seen a living person?

That makes absolutely no sense.

"What are you t-talking about?" he manages, frantically looking between the two gawking agents. Even if it weren't for the lipstick, the slight stutter in his voice was enough to give him away.

Neither of them say a word, but Morgan gestures to his own jaw with a finger. There is a lipstick print there from this morning, one that neither of you had noticed, identical to the one you've just wiped off Spencer's cheek.

Well shit.

"Uhm... we were going to tell you," you try to reason, but they've already left, telling everyone within ears reach (and still further) about what they've just found out.

"We should probably go tell Hotch before they do," he suggests weakly, getting up from the chair.

Gently pulling him along by his arm, you nod. "I absolutely agree."

#spencer reid x girlfriend reader #spencer reid x bau reader #spencer reid oneshot #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid #derek morgan #penelope garcia #enderlovez

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a-mint-bear · 8 months ago

Text

Make Me Yours

Male Yandere x Reader

Part 2: "Your One and Only"

"I just... really wanna put a collar on a cute guy."

You didn't even mean to say it out loud, but your best friend since middle school had always been super open with this sort of stuff. You've always been the first one she texts when a date goes really well, or really terribly. And a lot of your coffee meetups, like this one, devolve into her oversharing all the juicy details of her relationships.

"Oh wow." She nudged you with a grin. "Didn't know you had it in you!"

Unable to meet her eyes, you try to defend your stray thought. You remind her of some of the jerks you've dated, how their assertive and self-assured personalities had all quickly turned into a bit too aggressive and controlling. In certain situations, in controlled doses... that could lead to a nice time. But it's all fun and games until you try to explain away some of their worse moments to your coworkers and swiftly realize you're in "that kind" of relationship. You wonder if you give off some kind of energy that attracts creeps...

The thought of finding a guy who would not only let you take the reins but maybe even prefer you taking charge? It gave you a little thrill you're almost embarrassed to admit.

"Well, it's nothing to get all twisted up over." she shrugs, taking a sip of her iced latte. "You'll find the right guy that's into that kind of thing."

You smiled, she really was trying to encourage you with this, and it was oddly sweet of her.

"Oh, look!" she scooted closer to you, showing you her phone screen. "There's tons of collars you can get. You thinkin' like leather, classic S&M style? Or somethin' more cutesy?"

Maybe a little too encouraging, sometimes.

~ Somewhere very close by...~

His hands were shaking. Your words were playing on repeat in his head, drowning everything else out.

As if you weren't already perfect. He'd been so jealous of you meeting up with your friend, but if it made this conversation happen so he couldn't be too upset about it. He'd been trying to think of some way to make you his for so long... But being yours? Wearing something like that? Something that said he belonged only to you?

He was already yours. But a little proof never hurt.

. . .

It was late, and you decided to cut through the park to get home quicker. It was a pretty safe area, but you didn't want to be here any longer than you had to be. A few lights lit up the main path and you didn't see anyone else around.

But that didn't mean you were alone.

"Hey..."

You spin around to see... some guy. You'd never met him before, but he was... making A LOT of eye contact.

He was cute though. Soft, fluffy hair and piercings in his ears, his bright eyes poking out from beneath his bangs. And he had at least six inches on you, but not really an intimidating frame, a bit skinny too. The way he was looking at you was making you nervous, but you weren't sure if it was a "Oh, this is unexpected." kind of nervous or a "You're gonna end up in his basement." kind of nervous.

"You probably don't remember me but, uh...we had a few classes together last year and…"

He seemed really nervous himself, trailing off with some color in his cheeks. You tell him politely that you were sorry, but you didn't remember him.

"That's okay, uh..."

He was breathing kind of funny, his eyes still staring into yours. You asked him what he needed, hoping it would speed this along and you could leave.

He took a breath, and all you could do was stare, wondering if you should distract him and make a break for it.

"I... I've liked you. For a long time. It's like... like everything about you is just so... wonderful! Seeing you every day keeps me going! I was okay just watching but then... Sorry, sorry. I'm c-coming on too strong, I..."

He took a step towards you, moving like he was going to touch you, but you instinctively took a step back. He looked a little hurt.

"No, no please, don't be scared! I just... I thought it was the right time... I've been thinking about this for so long! I just wanted to..."

He dropped to his knees and the look in his eyes was almost...like he worshipped you. Like you were everything to him and nothing else mattered. It was a bit overwhelming...

"I heard you talking to your friend the other day. Not, uh, not in a weird way, I swear! I-it's just... It's all I can think about..."

He stared at you, a glimmer of something in his eyes. You could see a tremble in his hands, like he was debating reaching out for you again. But he was holding himself back.

Seeing him kneeling, looking up at you with a want that burned into you... It was doing something to you.

This was a weird, kinda scary, unbelievable situation. But it felt so...

Good.

You felt bold. Deciding to go for broke, you finally spoke again.

You asked him to tell you what he wanted.

You could see the tremble shoot through his frame, the smallest, quietest gasp when the your words finally registered.

"I want... I want you to look down at me, just like this! I want you to run your fingers through my hair and tell me I'm a good boy. Your good boy! I want to cuddle up to you and hear your heartbeat while you hold me, I... I want you to use me... I want you to yank my collar if I get too excited and tell me to behave."

He laughed softly at the thought, this guy was completely smitten.

"I want to be yours, if that'll make you happy..."

He reached into his back pocket, you heard the gentle clink of the collar before you saw it. It was like some kind of odd proposal, except he was down on both knees.

He held it up to you, his eyes clouded with a want that made your face feel hot.

So painfully slowly, you reached out for him, your fingers flinching back for a split second, rational thought desperately trying to break through. But despite all the reasons you could think this was completely crazy, you still wanted this.

You touched his cheek, and he didn't hesitate to lean into your hand with a contented, dreamy sigh.

The power he was giving you was... new, exciting, maybe a bit intoxicating. And he was offering it all so willingly, you wondered if this was all a dream.

"I wanna be your good boy..." His voice was soft but pleading, almost desperate. "Please..."

His smile was making your brain feel fuzzy, seeing him looking up at you like you were his whole world.

"Make me yours."

#this one's a little self-indulgent lol #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere x reader #male yandere oc #yandere male #yandere boy #subby yandere #wondering if I should start naming these guys and gals #so i can do part 2s with the same characters #this one's been nearly done and in my drafts for a while #job hunting is long and tiring y'all #Jacob #minty writing

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p0orbaby · 1 month ago

Text

Born to Love You Back

summary: a very important question is on the horizon

warnings: none

a/n: some rich!reader for you all

word count: 1.7k

The jeweller’s salon is tucked into a narrow street in the 1st arrondissement, down a street so narrow you almost missed it, the kind of place that doesn’t need signage because everyone who matters already knows where it is. The building itself is unassuming but pristine, a five-storey townhouse with cream-coloured stone, wrought-iron balconies, a double door painted a deep charcoal with brass fixtures that gleam in the waning afternoon sun. Outside, a delivery van idles, spilling faint notes of Edith Piaf from its radio as a man unloads crates of flowers: cyclamen, lilies, eucalyptus branches arranged in bursts of green and white. They’ll likely find their way to the salon’s interior within the hour, arranged with almost mathematical precision to evoke a studied nonchalance.

Inside, it’s quiet—museum-like but less sterile, hushed but alive. There’s a balance between the soft hum of conversation from another room and the faint, barely perceptible scent of lilies and leather. The floors are a herringbone parquet, polished to an impossible sheen, and the walls are panelled in dove grey. Everything about the space is designed to whisper money. Even the receptionist, stationed behind a desk lacquered to such a high gloss that it might double as a mirror. She’s mid-twenties, probably just out of university—Sciences Po, perhaps, or one of the Grandes Écoles—wearing a black crepe shift dress that hits just above the knee. Chanel, you’d bet, though it’s hard to tell from here. Her hair is sleek and straight, parted sharply in the middle, her nails painted in Rouge Noir, a colour so iconic it’s practically shorthand for Parisian sophistication. She greets you in French first, then switches to English the moment she hears your accent, though her tone remains precisely the same—warm but not too warm, deferential but not subservient.

Aurélie is waiting for you on the stairs. She’s maybe late thirties, tall, with that certain froideur that women in her line of work cultivate like a second skin. Her blazer is Saint Laurent—black, sharply tailored, peak lapels—and her silk blouse is an ivory so fine it catches the light in a way cotton never could. Her trousers skim the tops of her Louboutin heels—black patent leather, red soles so subtle they barely register. Her jewellery is minimal but deliberate: a single strand of Mikimoto pearls, their lustre so perfect they almost look artificial, and a pair of matching studs. She smiles when she greets you, her lips painted a nude so neutral it could have come from any number of Tom Ford palettes, but you’d guess Casablanca.

“This way, please,” she says, gesturing towards the stairs with a hand that’s manicured in a soft ballet pink, not a chip in sight. You follow her up, noting the faint scent of her perfume—Chanel No. 19, not a popular choice but a discerning one, with its crisp notes of galbanum and iris that feel both professional and unapologetically feminine.

On the landing, there’s a painting—a still life, maybe Cézanne, maybe a very good imitation. You don’t stop to look, but it catches your eye enough to linger in your mind as Aurélie opens a door to the second-floor where Its quieter, darker. The walls are a deep navy—Farrow & Ball, maybe Hague Blue—and the rug beneath the central display case is thick enough to swallow the sound of your footsteps. The case itself is glass-topped and backlit, the kind of lighting that renders diamonds almost supernatural in their brilliance. The rings are arranged by cut and carat, each one nestled in its own velvet slot, the symmetry of the display both calming and slightly overwhelming.

Aurélie steps aside, giving you space but remaining close enough to anticipate your needs. She stands with her hands loosely clasped in front of her, her posture immaculate.

“Take your time,” she says, standing back with the same attentive grace she’s shown since you arrived.

You nod, your gaze already falling to the rings. You’ve thought about this for weeks, maybe months, but standing here, it feels more real, the weight of the decision settling in your chest. Not because you’re uncertain—you’re not—but because this is a moment you’ll remember, whether you want to or not.

The first ring is a cushion-cut diamond, two carats, set in a band of pave diamonds. Platinum, naturally. The proportions are flawless, the craftsmanship impeccable, but as you turn it in the light, you know immediately it’s wrong. Too ornate. Too eager. Alexia would hate it. You imagine her wearing it for a moment, and the thought feels so ridiculous you almost laugh. She doesn’t like excess, at least not in the obvious sense. Her taste is clean, modern, unfussy.

The second ring is pear-shaped, slightly smaller, but with a brilliance that draws your eye. The stone feels alive under the light, its facets catching every subtle movement of your hand. For a moment, you hesitate, thinking about how it would look on her hand, but then you remember something she said once, flipping through a magazine in bed: “Pear cuts are too delicate. They look like they’re trying too hard.”

You sigh, not quite aloud, but enough for Aurélie to notice. She steps closer, just enough to offer a quiet suggestion. “Does she have a preference?” she asks, her tone light, neutral. “For the setting, or the cut?”

“She likes things simple,” you say, the words coming out more clipped than you mean them to. It’s not her fault, this unease you feel. “Classic, but not boring”

Aurélie nods, her expression unchanged, and steps back again. You wonder if she can sense the weight of what you’re doing—if she’s seen enough of this to know the signs. The third ring catches your eye before you reach for it. A round brilliant diamond, 1.8 carats, set in a plain platinum band. No pave, no halo, no embellishments. It’s striking in its simplicity, the kind of ring that doesn’t need to assert itself because it knows what it is. You pick it up, holding it to the light, and as you turn it, something settles in you. This is the one. You don’t need to overthink it.

Aurélie smiles faintly, as though she already knew. “Shall I prepare it for you?” she asks.

You nod, handing it back, and she takes it with both hands, disappearing into a back room.

While she’s gone, you pull out your phone. You shouldn’t call her—she’s probably still at training, her mind on drills and tactics—but you do it anyway. She answers on the third ring, her voice steady but soft, with that familiar cadence you’ve missed more than you’d care to admit.

“Hey,” she says, her voice clear, grounded, with just the faintest lilt of distraction. In the background, there’s a low murmur of voices, the familiar thud of a ball meeting turf, maybe a coach shouting something that’s swallowed up by the wind. You imagine the sun slicing through the Catalan sky, the kind of relentless brightness that makes the whole city shimmer.

“Hey,” you reply, smoothing nonexistent creases from your blazer out of habit, though no one is watching. Your reflection in the polished glass of the display case looks composed, disinterested, but the sound of her voice pulls something taut inside you. “How’s training?”

“Same as always,” she says, and there’s a pause—just long enough for you to hear her exhale softly, almost imperceptibly. You know she’s stepped aside, moved to some quieter corner of the training complex where no one will overhear. She’s careful like that, never careless, always aware of her surroundings.

“Still exhausting?” you ask, and she laughs under her breath—a low, warm sound that lingers longer than it should.

“Mhm,” she hums, the sound of it makes you smile despite yourself. “But it’s a good kind of exhausting. You know how it is”

“Not sure I do,” you tease, leaning against the edge of the display case, its surface cool against your hand. “I can’t say I’ve run laps around a pitch lately. Unless you count running several businesses as exercise”

“Of course,” she says, dry but affectionate, “such an athlete. Truly inspiring”

The corner of your mouth twitches upward. “I aim to impress”

There’s a faint rustle of movement on her end—maybe she’s leaning against a wall, maybe adjusting the strap of her training bib. You picture her in that effortless way she carries herself: shorts sitting just right, socks perfectly rolled down, hair tied back in that half-loose, half-styled way that only someone like her can pull off.

“Where are you?” she asks, not because she doesn’t know, but because it’s the kind of question you ask when you want the conversation to last a little longer.

“Near Rue de la Paix,” you say, keeping it vague. “Finishing up a meeting”

“You’re always finishing up a meeting,” she says, and there’s a lightness to her tone, but it doesn’t quite hide the subtext.

“You’re always training,” you counter, matching her tone, and you hear her chuckle, soft but genuine.

“Buen punto”

There’s a brief pause. In the background, someone calls her name, a voice you don’t recognise, and she responds with a quick, sharp “Un momento.” The way she switches languages so fluidly—it’s seamless—and yet it reminds you, in a small but certain way, that her world is different from yours. Barcelona, with its golden afternoons and relentless sun, its terracotta rooftops and restless streets, feels a thousand miles away from the polished stillness of this Parisian jewellers.

“You should,” you encouraged knowing full well she’ll make no move to end the call herself.

“I’ll see you tonight?” she asks, and it’s a question, but not really.

“Of course,” you say, without hesitation this time.

There’s another silence after that, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s the kind of silence you could live in, one where nothing needs to be said because the words are already understood. Finally, she says, “Te quiero,” and you hear the faint click as she ends the call.

Aurélie returns with the ring, now nestled in a velvet box so pristine it looks almost untouched by human hands. You slip it into your pocket, the weight of it grounding you, and leave the salon with a nod of thanks.

Outside, Paris feels sharper, brighter. The air smells faintly of rain and burnt sugar from a nearby crepe stand, and the light is just beginning to soften as dusk approaches. For the first time all day, you feel steady.

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #fcb femeni #fcb femeni x reader #espwnt #espwnt x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso community

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pucksandpower · 2 months ago

Text

Big Bad Wolf

Day 27 → Hunter/Prey 💋 Max Verstappen

Warnings: 18+ content and Jos Verstappen

Kinktober Masterlist

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

Tonight is the night. Your first run.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The forest swallows you whole.

***

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

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

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

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

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

“Good. You need to be.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

None of them stir anything inside him. Not yet.

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

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

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

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

But something holds him back. Something feels different tonight.

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

You.

Without another thought, Max takes off into the forest.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then you feel it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Someone’s there.

Without thinking, you bolt.

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

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

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

But they’re getting closer.

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

Whoever they are, they’re faster than you.

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

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

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

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

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

It’s too late.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re caught.

And there’s no escaping now.

***

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

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

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

Your stomach drops.

Max.

Max caught you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s waited for you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then, you do.

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

The world shifts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re his. And he’s yours.

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

But the bond isn’t done.

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

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

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

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

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

That’s all the confirmation Max needs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re his. And he’s yours.

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

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

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

You don’t have to respond. He knows.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everyone will see. Everyone will know.

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The reaction is immediate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

Max.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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