#someone inevitably: lol sex

[ghastigiggles]

if you comment/tag my art implying that its nsfw in any way you're on thin fucking ice. i'm boutta start blocking people it bothers me so much lmao

[cyanide-sippy-cup]

Okay, I've officially watched Arcane. Might be at risk of becoming a LoL fan. But I gotta say, people really misundersood the sex scene. It is one of the most thematically conclusive scenes in season 2. Cait finally lets go of her Jinx obsession, allowing herself peace while also helping the woman she loves. She wanted Vi to be someone who would agree with her, who would reinforce her ideals and actions. But in this moment, she shows that she accepts her. Her past, her flaws, and whatever the future holds. She chooses her over revenge. And in Cait accepting Vi, we have the opposite. Vi begged her not to change at the beginning of the season and yet she did. She forced herself to focus on revenge until it swallowed her whole, and Ambessa molded that into a fine weapon. But Vi changed her for the better. To someone who could find peace and make the changes they both wanted. And when Vi kisses her, it's a show that she accepts her too. She accepts the changes. And she's embracing the one thing she wanted this whole time- a family. Instead of chasing something she'll never get back, she accepts that things have changed and embraces her future. In a way, she's accepting her own life.

Also, the scene literally occurs in a jail cell. Yknow, the setting where they met to begin with. It represents new beginnings for them both. A moment in which they embrace each other and all the flaws and struggles that come with. They have plagued each others' minds all season and now they literally start over, allowing each other to focus on the battles ahead of them.

[abbyslovergirlxo]

Intrusion

Sevika x Ambessa x Reader

Word count: 3.9k

synopsis; You, the pretty enforcer are tasked with retrieving very important documents from none other than Lead Commander Ambessa Merdarda. Sounds rather easy, until you see Silco’s right hand woman bent over her desk.

(Tw; dom!Ambessa, softdom!Sevika, wlw, overstimulation, degradation, enforcer!reader, strap on, sex, biting, sub!reader, sub!Sevika, crying)

Song: Love is a bitch, Two face

Side note: lmk if you guys like this and I’ll do another ambessa/sevika one shot. tbh I’m obsessed with them so I’ll probably drop it anyways lol. Also I’ve never watched the show so if anything is inaccurate don’t hate me, the characters are just fine shit. Anyways, hope u enjoy 🫶

When you first walked into the tall building, you hadn’t expected today to be such a troublesome one. Your commanding officer has tasked you with retrieving a few important documents from Lead Commander, Ambessa Merdarda. When given the task you did well to hide your excitement but nonetheless it was there. You had seen Ambessa, as an enforcer she was starting to become a regular face to be greeted by. But you’d never come close to her and the idea of that was intoxicating. You’d heard rumors about her, the war lord who never took no for an answer and never knew defeat. You’d admired her, her ruthlessness made her one of the most praised women in the world. One day you’d hoped to become as renowned as her. Knowing it was wrong and out of turn, you wondered if you’d be able to ask her a few questions about her strategies when you made it to her office.

The walls were decorated with precise and intricate details. White and blue and gold peeked all over. Sunlight peered in through the huge windows, everything about it screamed luxury. You nodded your head off to the guards posted at the large grand doors that led to the wing with Ambessa’s office.

Your heart jumped out of your chest over and over as you neared that golden and blue door. But you found courage once you reached it, letting off two swift knocks. Silence was all that met you. You decided to be a bit patient, not wanting to barge in. But as the minutes passed you remembered your commander's voice in the back of your head, pestering you about just how important it was that you got them.

Minutes kept slipping so with a slight irritation slipping over you, you respectively knocked two more times. There was a bit more force behind it this time but respectful of course. More silence was accompanied by it. You bit your lip, anxious and worried.

You knew that it wasn’t your fault that the Lead Commander hadn’t answered despite it being known that she was in her office. But you also knew the higher ups rarely cared about ‘excuses’ like such. If you were lucky you’d get chewed out in front of your comrades.

Usually you took any consequences head on, no matter how obscene, like the good soldier you were. But something made your stomach churn to delay the delivery of something of such urgency. You took a deep breath, telling yourself that she’ll understand.

I ’m not knocking the door down or anything, she won’t mind…just open the door

You tried to have your thoughts aid your anxieties and it almost worked until you remembered the scowl on her face a week earlier when a fellow enforcer had approached her disrespectfully. Just the remembrance of such a glare sent shivers down your spine.

Somewhat cowardly, you decided to suck up whatever would inevitably be thrown at you when you showed up with no papers. Disappointed, you put your head down, ready to turn.

Until a muffled groan slipped past the confines of the large door. If it hadn’t been for how observant you were, you undoubtedly would’ve missed it. But upon hearing it you flinched. Worry and fear overtook at the idea of what it could’ve been.

Was Ambessa ok? Had someone slipped into her office and hurt her? Is that why she couldn’t come to the door?

Without so much as a second thought, you bolted through the door, gun raised and finger steady over the trigger.

Any heroism brewing inside of you preparing to ‘save the day’ instantly dissipates. The scene in front of you was so lewd that you couldn’t do anything besides immediately re-holster your gun and attempt to leave. Unfortunately the attempt was halted, the panting voice of Ambessa reaching you.

“ Close the door. Turn around.”

For a second, you let your mind roam over the possibilities this could end with. You cursed yourself for your listening skills, wishing you’d never heard that noise in the first place. You remembered your comrades talking about some rather obscene things they’ve walked in on and they found pretending worked best.

In a last ditch effort, you kept your eyes pointed at the large door. Hand still clutching the handle.

“ I was simply coming to retrieve the documents for Commander Brinman. I apologize for my intrusion, due to the noise, I assumed there was trouble. I will take my leave immediately and return to retrieve them later today if able, Commander Merdarda.”

You heard a chuckle followed by a whine to which you presumed was the brown skinned woman bent over the table, the ones whose legs shook slightly…

You shook your head slightly, cursing yourself once again for the blush that crept on your face.

“ I didn’t ask you for any of that information, little one. Close the door and turn around. That’s an order.”

Desperately you let out one last attempt. Your voice came out weak this time, that soldier formality leaving you.

“ I promise you, Commander Merdarda, that absolutely nothing that has taken place in this office today shall leave it. I swear it.”

“ Well I could’ve told you that. You don’t seem the chatty type, clearly not the listening type either… I won’t repeat myself on my previous orders.”

Her voice sounded less patient this time, so reluctantly you closed the door. The loud click sounded throughout the room, and not a moment after you turned your body to face them. Embarrassment settled on your face as you still refused to actually look, your eyes trained at the floor.

“ Eyes up here, don’t be so rude.”

The moment you looked up, she was already staring at you. Your chest rose and fell a bit faster upon seeing the sight, again. Ambessa stood proudly, muscles and chest exposed for you to see. And though her counterpart did also seem to have muscle you immediately deduced that she wasn’t in the same state Ambessa was. Her hair fell over her face, pants crumpled around her ankles as she lay there, still shaking.

Ambessa smiled at you, but it was clear that it wasn’t a friendly one.

“ Look, we have a guest. Have some manners, or do you undercity dogs not have any of those?”

The harshness yet playfulness in her tone made you shift your legs slightly, still staring at Ambessa. The woman beneath her simply grumbled something but you didn’t catch it. It was hard when your heartbeat was thrumming out of your ears practically.

Ambessa rolled her eyes, using her large hand to tug at the hair of the woman. Another grumble left her, this time clearly more strangled. Guiding her head to look up at you, you nearly collapsed onto the floor upon seeing her face. Sure a few strands still protected her but you’d know that face anywhere.

Any enforcer would. Sevika, Silcos right hand woman. Instantly you scrunch your face up at the sight, luckily Ambessa was nice enough to drop her head back onto the desk, of course not before she forced a ‘hello’ out of her.

“ What to do with you now, hm?”

That question alone was enough for you to not care that Noxus’s Lead Commander was fucking a known criminal in her office, worried about your own fate.

“ Like I said, Commander, I’ve seen nothing. I’ll say nothing.”

She frowned, almost as if she was bored by such a response.

“ I thought we already discussed that. I think you’d be much more interesting with all those clothes off.”

The blush you fought so hard to keep down came back with a vengeance. You stammered over your words but nothing actually came out. You peered over at Sevika, noticing that Ambessa was in fact still inside of her.

“ C-commander… I’m a s-soldier…”

“ Soldiers don’t like getting fucked?”

Your insides boiled at the thought. Your mind fed you images of your legs open, trembling like Sevikas, Ambessa large hands able to reach every and anywhere. It should’ve made you recoil, have you running out of the office and shouting for anyone nearby to come and see the ungodly actions happening in this very room. But it didn’t. It made your breath hitch. Desire pounced at you over and over. You’d always been trained to be the perfect, obedient, and efficient soldier. But there was nothing perfect about the way you gave in so easily to that little voice inside of your head.

You’d be lying if you said everything about the sight of them didn’t make your knees weak. You’d always preferred women but there were no women like Sevika and Ambessa where you’d come from. The disgust you felt for that Zaunite hunched over that desk held no weight against your attraction for her.

“ Well, child, what’ll be?”

“ Nobody will find out…right?”

Ambessa smiled evilly at the question. Yet she ignored it all together. She knew you were going to strip anyway. She knew it the moment you locked the door on your own will, she’d never told you to do that. And oh how she loved the look on your face as you accepted your situation, deciding that Ambessa was never going to give you such security in her answer.

Slowly but carefully you tugged at your clothes. Something Ambessa also hadn’t instructed. She held back a sly comment, picking up on how eager you were. And she didn’t miss the way Sevika clenched around her suddenly, as she watched you strip off the rest of your clothes. You hadn’t noticed either of their staring but god did you feel it.

If your parents were here they’d be so disappointed in you, hands trembling as you showcase your bare body to two women who looked like they were looking at dinner. But you had no space to harbor such a thought, not when Ambessas braid swung slightly, beckoning you over. You moved swiftly, that certain soldier walk about you.

“ Quite nice…”

Ambessa shamelessly checked you out, her eyes lingering concerningly long on your breast. You simply shrink beneath her gaze, her very presence demanding authority. And you saw no reason to grant her anything other than that.

“ How lucky I am, I’ll have to thank Brinman for sending such a pretty one. Alright Sevika, be a little useful for once. Make sure to devour her properly.”

“ Lay down for me then, pretty.”

You’d never heard her voice before. You hadn’t expected it to sound so enticing. Her low eyes and hanging hair made you desperate to be devoured, even if it was by a criminal. You nodded quickly, nervously laying on the desk, your pretty legs spread in front of a bent over Sevika. Ambessa pressed the strap deeper inside at the sight of it causing Sevika to grip the table. The sight the Wolf had infront of her made her want to eat you both alive. From her view she could see everything, your nervous face as Sevika trailed kisses up your thigh, Sevikas sweaty back exposed and flexing as she moved about. She also couldn’t miss the way your cunt clenched around nothing as the Zaunite got closer to that spot that you really needed to be touched.

As planned, the moment Sevika finally did start licking vigorously at your clit, Ambessa started her thrust back up again. Her pace was brutal, even you could tell despite the loud whines that slipped past your mouth. Sevika moaned aggressively into you, not able to contain herself.

“ Look at you two, filthy.”

“ o-oh god…commander–”

You moaned out for Ambessa despite the intense eye contact you held with Sevika. Her grey eyes bore into yours and you worried that alone might get you off faster. If Sevika had a piece of sanity left she would’ve told you to say her name, moan it out in that pornographic tone of yours. But Ambessa was ruthless, hitting her in all the right places. And this pace was no issue for her, her stamina was horrid and she had no signs of fatigue. Sevika trembled and pushed against her rhythmically, not wanting the pleasure to end.

Her eyes rolled repeatedly, struggling to hold that eye contact with you. But you didn’t mind it, quite the opposite. It made you bite your lip at the thought that every vibration that she set off into you was because of the tall woman behind her. To know every time she rolled her eyes she was closer to the edge, drove you crazy. You almost pulled at her hair, wanting her even closer. But cowardice struck your heart, secretly intimated of the strong wanted criminal from Zaun.

Pleasure overwhelmed you as Sevika continued, her face now drenched from everything you were giving her. You whined at the sight, noticing the wet glisten on her nose and chin.

Your hips bucked at her mouth over and over and over. Until that burning sensation was becoming unbearable.

Obedient as ever, you wailed out a request. Ambessa watched hungrily as your legs shook around Sevikas head, wetness dripping onto her leg from Sevikas cunt.

“ please! can I…c-can I come?”

“ I’m not the one between your legs.”

With tears in your eyes and your hands clenched, desperate to not let go until someone, anyone, told you that it was ok. Sevika nearly melted seeing the way you pleaded with her before even saying anything, your lips trembling. Her own orgasm was approaching quickly.

“ p-please…sevika…”

Through broken moans and stutters, “ yes…god yes.”

Ambessa smiled as you whispered a pathetic thank you, your body at war with itself while you finished all over her face. Ambessa could tell she was close, it was obvious from how hard she was pulling it in. Sevika still ate at you desperately despite you having come, instead of relenting she simply pulled your thighs in with her arms, trapping you.

Ambessa had told her to devour you properly, and she wasn’t going to do anything but that. She did falter at her speed for a second, once she heard Ambessa demand for her to finish ‘all over her cock’ and quote.

You whimpered out pleads and begs, but neither listened. All you could do was paw at her strong forearms which clearly was no match for you. And Sevika hadn’t even noticed the scratch marks you gave her, her own orgasm so intense that she was lost in it. And being the cutting woman she was, Ambessa fucked her throughout all of it, until she was satisfied with the alien sounds she pulled from Sevikas throat.

Sevika did stop once Ambessa pulled out, heaving and shaking. And yet she did manage enough energy to leave a few extra peppered kisses on your wobbly thighs.

“ Who would’ve known the brave enforcer made such noises?”

Her voice was one of pure velvet, it made something rush through you. Everything about Ambessa made you go crazy. Yet you didn’t respond, ignoring Ambessa who now was behind you, head in your neck leaving bruises on it. You only whined, breathing rapidly. Her rough hands rubbed all around your breast and stomach.

“ What would your comrades think? You’ve just opened your legs to a wanted criminal, quite easily as well. Did you enjoy it? Having a Zaunite eat your cunt?”

Her words were so vile and you had no answers for her. You couldn’t even think straight, let alone entertain such nasty comments. Instead you opted to begging, not caring how filthy you looked in front of them anymore.

“ can I have more, please?”

Ambessa noticed now that your begging was no longer only directed towards her, your desperation for permission now being sought out from both of them. She didn’t mind. If anything it made her day a whole lot more interesting.

She smirked into your neck before pulling away, looking down at Sevika who no longer was bent over. Instead she now stood tall too, her naked body making you blush. Sevika knew she held no authority when it came to Ambessa, it was obvious. But you? Those lustful eyes peering up at her, awaiting any instruction, so long as it meant they touched you, drove her further into corruption.

Ambessa simply stared at Sevika, allowing her to answer.

“ Since you asked so nicely. Go ahead and open these up for me.”

She tapped at your thighs that you now had shut. Obediently, you opened them. Ambessa left your side, making you miss how warm she was. You heard her rummaging through something behind you before you saw her hand Sevika a stark black toy. Your arousal spilled down your legs as you patiently watched and waited. You grew alive with anticipation as you watched Ambessa grip the back of Sevika’s neck, whispering something in her ear. It left you curious after seeing the way Sevika’s eyes furrowed and she clenched Ambessa’s wrist desperately, nodding softly.

Ambessa left her to come back to your side, this time though she towered over you, cupping your face in her hand. It was surprisingly gentle, the way she rubbed her thumb back and forth. She studied you, finding it enticing how pliable you were, legs open and ready for them to do anything to you. She wanted to leave you clawing at the floor by the time she was done with you and from the way you easily slumped into her hands, she knew she could.

All that distraction made you oblivious to Sevika having a strap now attached to her as well. Sevika walked in front of you, pulling your legs suddenly so that your cunt was mere inches away from her cock. You bit your lip, one hand gripping the table and the other squeezing Ambessa’s wrist that now sat on either side of your face.

Sevika smiled down at you, allowing you to finally get a clear view of her gapped teeth. You nearly swooned at the sight of it. You hadn’t noticed how gorgeous she truly looked with all the hair that previously stuck to her face. But now you could see everything, her plump breast, her large thighs and strong arms, and that fucking smile.

“ Just relax, sweetheart. I know you’ll do good.” She dipped two fingers inside of you causing you to let out a small moan. Sevika made sure to get every bit of them wet, it wasn’t difficult at all, the constantly leaking proving just how good her tongue had been to you. She almost didn’t want to pull out, loving how warm you were inside. But that all went out the door the moment she saw you throw you back after she drew sticky circles around your clit lazily.

“ You’re so fucking wet, I was that good?”

You nodded mindlessly, grinding your ass softly against the desk. Ambessa gripped your chin gently causing you to suddenly open your eyes.

“ Manners, little one. She asked you a question.”

“ yesss,i-it’s so good, it’s a-all sooo good…”

You struggled to get it all out, broken up but moans and wails. The speed of her fingers was blinding by now. But she didn’t want you to cum, not yet. She ripped her fingers away, giving a faux sympathetic glance.

Sevika gripped your thighs as she lined the toy up with your cunt, making a slight show of the sounds it made as it moved back and forth between your lips. You bucked your hips desperate to actually put it inside, you didn’t have to wait long before she was sinking it all the way in. She was slow to enter, sure to not hurt you. But she assumed that’d be difficult to do considering you were practically drenched.

Ambessa itched with lust as she watched the way Sevikas thrust picked up, her stomach flexing and growing wet from you. You moaned out her name hoarsely, grateful that finally something was being done.

“ So pretty… this cunt is fuckin—- ngh… perfect.”

Sevika groaned out, feeling the harness rub against her throbbing clit. She looked up at Ambessa, eyelids low and mouth hung open, panting.

“ Fuck her faster.”

She didn’t dare disobey, picking up the speed immediately. You cried out, feeling it hit inside of you even deeper. Your poor cunt clenched around it, hungry for more. Your whole body felt hot to the touch. You thought you were going to die, not sure how much longer you could hold on despite her having just started.

Sevika moved your legs so that they rose straight up, pulling you even deeper allowing her thrust to drive you insane. You felt her hot breaths against your calf, her breast brushing against your bare skin. Her moans grew louder but it was impossible to overtake yours, your throat ripping out the most obscene noises. You met her thrust as best as you could, knowing you could never get enough of the pleasure she was giving you, even if it was overwhelming.

“ C’mere.”

You felt Ambessa suddenly capture your lips, pulling your head up slightly to ravage you. She tasted like honey and you moaned into her. Her hands roamed all over, cupping your breast that bounced vigorously. She bit at your bottom lip, relishing in the way you whined her name, not commander, her name.

“ ambessaaa.”

She secretly crumpled at sound. Typically she’d have corrected you, and told you to do better with your etiquette. But she couldn’t bother with that when you were shaking now, you and Sevikas orgasm clearly close.

“ fuckkkk! m-m gonn— no!”

You screamed louder than ever, still desperately kissing at Ambessa’s scarred face. The pair admired your discipline, fighting off the orgasm that you knew threatened to spill at any moment.

“ ‘bessa! s-sevikaa! can I— cum! can I please?”

Sevika was so far gone, ignoring your question. She stuttered her thrust, biting into your ankle as her orgasm grew closer. Ambessa gave uncharacteristic sympathy, filling in for her. She leaned down even closer, whispering in your ear.

“ Sevika’s been doing such a good job, hasn’t she?”

A tear slipped down your face as you nodded, whimpering more and more. She kissed the tear away, loving how they so easily fell down your face.

“ So how about we let her cum first, have some etiquette? How about that?”

Quite sure it wasn’t a question, you only offered a pained yes. Sevika sped up slightly making you claw at Ambessa’s hand that rested on your breast. Sevika came silently, her mouth forming into an ‘o’ as she fucked herself through her orgasm while also fucking you.

You looked up at Ambessa, pleading. She shushed your cries, telling you to let go for her and Sevika. And Sevika despite being overstimulated continued to fuck you enthusiastically, refusing to not let your pussy cry for her again. And cry it did, you came so hard on her cock that you saw stars. Vision blurry and body weak, you trembled beneath both of their stares.

You heaved, struggling to catch your breath. But Ambessa noticed you trying to say something. She rubbed your face again leaving bruised kisses on your chest.

“ Speak up, mumbling won’t do much.”

“ more…please”

Sevika, whose chest also struggled to catch breath, made eye contact with Ambessa. Your mind was a heavy haze, not able to concentrate on anything. But you did capture Ambessa’s commanding voice.

“ You heard her, Sevika. Do it again.”

[theealbatross]

never not been mine (s.s)

Plot | Everyone wonders if you and Sebastian are together. Sebastian wonders when will everyone mind their own business.

Tags | fluff, cheesy pining, we're not together or are we, cranky!seb, slytherin!reader, curses, threats, prejudice, seeker!seb for the plot, established relationship (kinda), when you love her so much it drives you insane, seb and reader are shit seniors is my headcannon

[Disclaimer | I borrowed a scene from "no hard feelings" because it was trending on tiktok lol. Also a portion of this is heavily inspired by 'The Alchemy' by Taylor Swift'. Photos not mine.]

“Just one drink – butterbeers on me!”

You couldn’t help but smile at the eager nameless hopeful in front of you.

The wince from his two friends at the other edge of the common room was apparent at your periphery. You had to give it to him, he’s lasted longer than the others. Usually, most would be walking away with their egos bruised when greeted with your disinterest.

“Not like you have any … pending appointments, don’t you?” He tried to maintain his bravado, even taking a step closer to the loveseat you were sitting on by the fire.

Call it an instinct, a bond only kindred spirits that have tethered in-between life and death together would have, but you could almost feel him – not needing to see him to recognize the heavy steps on the stone stairs, the deep sigh as he impatiently scours the common room in search of you, and the inevitable crinkle that forms in-between his eyebrows when he sees someone else in your vicinity.

You smile.

“I have one,” you muttered, just loud enough for him to hear.

His smirk faltered, eyebrows meeting, “A boyfriend?”

You shook your head.

“Pending appointments,” you grin.

His body comically cloaked the significantly shorter boy from behind.

“There you are.”

Sebastian barely glanced at the 6th year in front of you even when their shoulders bumped, making the student stumble. On instinct, you moved your legs to the side so Sebastian could curl up on the floor, his head finding comfort on the meat of your covered thigh, callused hands curling on your calf as he slumped into your lap.

His hair was still dripping sweat, the quidditch uniform he had on covered with muck and dirt and a spattering of blood, and yet here he was, shamelessly sharing his mess with your clothes. You can almost hear Ominis’ disapproving voice, ‘He's a spoiled dog!’.

Ah, but how could you not when he seemed to be cursed at being so good at everything and yet so miserable doing anything else but spending his time with you. Even you can’t be that heartless.

You ran your hands on his damp hair, making sure to press your fingers on his scalp, unable to stop the soft coos from coming out of your mouth. Sebastian had always needed extra attention after his drills with Imelda, the latter determined to tun him into her very own secret weapon of destruction for this upcoming Quidditch season.

This, in turn, had cut his time with you to his utter despair.

“Can we help you?” You were too busy tending to him that you hadn’t realized you still had an audience. Your pet wasn’t the friendliest, especially with strangers of the opposite sex that stares at you.

“N-No, I was just – we were having a conversa –”

Sebastian frowned, the boy took a step back, you place a halting hand on his shoulder.  

“I’ll,” you’re sure even this silly one knows of your Sebastian’s temperament. He wasn’t necessarily the type to be awarded as The Friendliest Senior of the Year.

(“You were nice to me the first time we met.” “Maybe I’m only nice to pretty witches.”)

“I’ll just talk to you later when you’re free.”

“Or not,” Sebastian deadpanned, his grip on your calf tightening, eyebrows meeting.

“Surely it couldn’t hurt–”

“Could hurt.”

“Sebastian.”

It was a pitiful sight but you’ve spared the boy a fate worse than a bruised pride as he muttered a clanky goodbye before turning his back the two of you. Sebastian still glowering at his fleeing back.

“Do you have to be so mean?” you half-heartedly admonished him, patting his freckled cheeks. He really is so handsome, easily the most eligible bachelor in your batch, biased opinion aside.

“Maybe I haven’t been mean enough if they still approach you,” he muttered, clearly still annoyed. His eyes shift from one boy to another accusatorially like if he stared long enough, he’ll catch them in the act of being interested after you and deliver the right sentence as an example.

After the events with Ranrok, high society quickly set its eyes on you. He thought he had nipped it in the bud, sending scathing letters back to prideful pureblood boys for their gall to direct formal letters of engagement to you, audaciously sticking by your side at all times, and severely punishing anyone who dared to even think of courting you. (One even tried to challenge him to a duel. It was barely entertaining, almost downright cruel. Sebastian hopes that the boy is enjoying Ilvermorny.)

Truly, he has his work cut out for him.

Your giggle pulled him out of his unpleasant thoughts, “You should go shower, it’s about to be dinner time.”

He hummed, “Can I use The Room? Hate the boy’s lavatory, ‘s a mess.”

You ignore the quick turning of heads of the students nearest you, trying not to laugh at their scandalized faces, aware of how bad it sounded. Instead, you let him stand and take your hand as he bitterly shared his hypothesis that Imelda was a dark wizard planted to torment him while he led you to the familiar steps toward the Room of Requirement.

On the other side of the room, the rejected boy glared at his sniggering friends.

“You told me they weren’t courting!” he accused.

“In my defense,” his friend shrugged, giggling at the spectacular explosion in front of her very eyes. Who would’ve thought Sebastian Sallow would catch the idiot in the act. “They aren’t but everyone knows they’re ... exclusive.”

“Exclusive?”

“We warned you! I warned you!” Their other friend, the more level-headed one was exasperated. “I’m so bloody terrified of Sallow I don’t even dare to look in her direction! Do you know there are rumors of him mastering forbidden spells? It’s why he had practically spent the entire half of 6th year serving a mysterious detention service for Professor Hecate.”

His other two friend looked at him in doubt. “I thought that was because he bombarda-ed the pants out of that Ravenclaw after he was challenged to a duel –”

“Regardless! He’s dangerous!”

“But are they dating or not?”

“No one knows, okay? That’s like in the Hogwarts top 3 mysteries.” The girl snipped.

“I may know someone who might know.”

Two heads swiveled to the boy who was already staring at a regal silhouette, sitting peacefully on the couch nearest the windows and furthest from any other person in the large common room – simultaneously seeming peaceful and brooding at the same time. As if feeling their gaze on him his unseeing eyes suddenly snapped in their direction, the boys physically flinched, the girl even covering her mouth to hide a gasp as they quickly vacated their spot before they truly tested their luck with the 7th-year Head Boy.

Ominis Gaunt.

The three sighed, resigned to leave that stone unturned.

“Guess we’ll never know.”

Sebastian flustered at the pretty boxes wrapped in silk, laces, and ribbons being shoved to his face, hand rubbing the back of his neck in a mix of embarrassment and honor.

He’s mostly gotten used to the numerous attention he receives but the abrupt surge of volume between his 6th and 7th year sometimes still gives him whiplash. It’s amazing what a growth spurt can do in your social standing.

“Thank you, ladies. I really appreciate it.” He flashed them a polite smile, genuinely flattered and touched at the thoughtful presents even if they are a bit overeager.

Swoons and giggles erupted from the small crowd, so dramatic yet so entertaining.

“Excuse me, Sebastian?”

From the middle of the crowd, Blaine Marune a fellow 7th year pushed herself to the front. She was a popular girl, sought after by many of his teammates. He cocked a brow at her Slytherin shirt when she was a Gryffindor, the team Sebastian was playing against. Was she dating someone on his team?

“Can you sign my shirt?”

Gasps scattered on the ground at her bold request, especially since she stretched out her shirt so the space by her chest was extended. He had to give it to these Gryffindors, they sure do live up to their name.

“Your girlfriend wouldn’t mind, would she?”

He frowned at the implication, suddenly hating the inquisitive eyes snapping between them, clearly curious as to his status. “That’s –”

“She’s here! Look!” A voice from behind the crowd gasped.

Sebastian swiftly turned his head, barely catching your eyes just as you slipped inside the tower that held the stairs to the bleachers up above. Mindlessly, he forgot all about the little scene that was unfolding between him and the Gryffindor and turned away from his gaggle of admirers to walk to the edge of the field, jumping on his broom to fly in front of you when you seemed to take a wrong turn to the other side of the bleachers.

“Wrong direction, darling. I saved you your seat,” he grinned even as you ignored him, walking a leisure pace as he floated beside you.

“I’m not sitting next to your admirers,” She quipped, still refusing to look at him, marching with a purpose. “Darling.”

She’s jealous. Sebastian beamed, flying closer so he could reach out an arm to stop her steps.

“Don’t be like that,” his words were soft yet the grin in his face couldn’t be tamed even if he did try. “You know I like it when I can see you at all times.”

Giggles and whispers were murmured from the seated crowd behind you.

“She’s here!” “The Felix Felicis is here!” “There’s no way those Gryffindor bastards will beat us now.”

The burn in your face doubled in intensity as you tried your hardest to ignore such embarrassing remarks.

It started with a silly coincidence.

In one of Sebastian’s first games last year, you had been running late, roped in a last-minute hunt for a large Ancient Magic hotspot that had abruptly appeared on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. When you entered the Quidditch Pitch the game was in full swing. However, your entrance had caught Sebastian’s attention which coincidentally also happened to be the moment the Snitch flew straight towards you. It was one of the shortest games in Hogwart’s centuries-long history as he had gotten a hold of it inches away from your face. The team included you in their celebration by throwing the two of you in the air.

From then on, it was duly noted that Sebastian’s performance remarkably improved every time you were in attendance. It didn’t help that the one time you didn’t attend one of his inter-school practice matches they had lost by a couple of points to Durmstrang.

Imelda had damn near made you swear on an Unbreakable Vow that you would watch every single one of their games from then on.

Hence, being Sebastian Sallow’s Felix Felicis became your position and moniker throughout the entirety of Quidditch Season, and as embarrassing as it was, it would seem your usually level-headed friend had either gotten roped in the ridiculous suspicion or was enjoying your obvious mortification a bit too much as he had taken every opportunity to snatch the same damn seat that practically showcased you to the rest of the crowd and in turn ensured he would be able to see you at all times.

“Sallow! We’re about to gather!” Imelda screamed in the middle of the field.

“Give me a second!” He turned to you. “Please, pet?”

Damn him and those brown eyes.

Harshly, you grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him till he was forced to maneuver his broom sideways, face an inch from yours.

“You better not embarrass me,” you threatened, pressing a quick kiss on his cheek before turning on the opposite direction, straight to the seat that had been unofficially yours. Lucky charms get special privileges after all. “I want a photo with that trophy, Sallow.”

Sebastian hovered in the air frozen, hand on his burning skin, until a ball hit him square in the back. “Today, lover boy.”

He gave Imelda an apologetic look before calling over an underclassman.

“You there, 5th year!” The boy was quick to jump out of his seat, heart hammering in his chest at the Seeker’s sudden attention. “Call over Head Boy Gaunt and tell him to make sure no one unpleasant sits in my section.”

The boy nodded, understanding. Everyone knows Sallow’s unofficial section where all his friends from different houses sit – every single one of them as intimidating as him. If he had gotten a galleon for every time a professor mentioned one of them either in praise or in warning on what not to do, he’d rival Ominis Gaunt in wealth.

Most importantly, she would be there. The lucky charm and Sallow’s dearest companion – though jury is still out whether they had been courting all this time or not.

From what he’d seen he’d bet on them getting married by graduation even with the lack of formal courting. They didn’t seem to be the type to care for convention. He had even heard suggestive rumors that they basically sleep in the same room every night, though that has yet to be proven.

“Yes, of course, Sallow!”

Sebastian watched the boy scamper down the stairs, no doubt to relay his message to his dear friend who won’t be too pleased of his misuse of Ominis’ position.

Oh well, all’s well that ends well.

He blows you one last provocative kiss as he departs the stands before he flies up to where the rest of his teammates are positioned, ready for the game to start, pleased with the fact you would be fuming from the attention his grand performance would bring.

A jealous darling would be bad luck after all.

And he had a trophy to win.

“And the Triwizard Champion is Sebastian Sallow from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, House Slytherin!”

Green confetti and fireworks exploded all over the stadium overwhelming Sebastian as he tried to catch his breath and not let his knees buckle under his weight when all the adrenaline left his body. He belatedly realized that the cold, golden trophy had been shoved in his hands not until he was lifted by fellow schoolmates up above their arms in celebration and was staring at his own gobsmacked reflection in the shiny hardware.

More familiar faces and deafening cheers accosted him as he was brought into the section where all Hogwarts students were gathered. Only when he was put back in the ground to be showered with pats, congratulations, and splashing of fizzing butterbeer did his brain finally catch up with the rest of his body.

Immediately, his head started swiveling, looking for the face he needed to see the most, his instincts screaming at him that she was near. She has to be. She promised.

From the back of the crowds – there she was. Her beaming face, humbly waving from behind as if she wasn’t the reason he had fought so hard for this victory – that it really should be in her name and it shall, for he will lay this victory on her feet, first of his many devotion for the rest of their lives.

In haste, he shoved the trophy to the nearest body, uncaring of who was able to grab it as he pushed and shoved anyone on his way to you. The rest of the world blurred. He cared not for the gasps, shrieks, or protests – not when he saw the beam in your smile as you jumped into his arms – the golden ring that was hanging off a simple chain on your neck clanged with the similar one hanging off his own when you jumped into his arms.

The wedding rings he had prepared, ready for the day the two of you turned into adults in the eyes of the law and were permitted to be married. It would be for mere formality, his heart after all had been tied to yours the moment your eyes met.

“I’m so proud of you.”

He’s never felt satisfaction as fulfilling as this moment.

Finally, he has earned it – has earned the right to say it.

“I love you.”

This love was finally his.

The papers were printed in a few days. Bold letters with a bolder headline:

Triwizard Champion and Hero of Hogwarts Secretly Betrothed!?

Right below such an accusatory headline was the photo of the two of you framed almost too perfectly in a café’s window, Sebastian pressing a kiss in the unmistakable diamond ring he had bought with his winnings while you beamed at him.

It has not been a kept secret that many noble families have vied and proposed for the heavy hand of the Hero but all were rebuffed. All but one. Sebastian Sallow, a promising orphan from a fallen house seemed to have Championed the heart of the lady just as he had conquered the challenges of the Triwizard Trials. As remarkable as it is, his distinct lack of proper lineage, colorful history of delinquency, and the whispers of his preference for obscure magic would truly prove to be a challenge he might not be able to slay quite as easily, especially for a bride as coveted as –

“I am going to fucking kill that wench!”

You slammed the newspaper on the table, making Grace choke on her tea just as Ominis winced at your colorful choice of words, quickly conjuring up a silencing charm around your table lest you make it harder for his lawyers if you actually do deliver the threat.

“I know you’re upset –”

You glare at Grace. Upset barely covers it.

Finding that you have not insulted it enough you crumble the bundle of paper in your hand, even going as far as to grab two that a couple of fourth years were reading before throwing them to the fire in a huff, screaming an Incendio on the fireplace just for the satisfaction of seeing it all turn into soot in a blink.

Ominis quickly sends an owl.

She should still be in Hogsmeade, your mind runs. You’ve heard that the unpleasant reporter had made a home in one of the apartments in Hogsmeade once the Tournament started.

It should be easy, you try to suppress your maniacal grin as you turn, marching straight into the stairs that should lead you to the nearest floo, ignoring how quickly the other students parted for you as your head ran all types of scenarios on how you can absolutely gut that waste of space. She had unfairly targeted Sebastian from the start of the games, pointing out flaws on his runs even when he had won the stage, cruelly bringing up his 'upbringing' in Feldcroft, and even bringing up how he wouldn't be able to give it his all while still grieving his twin sister and should be replaced.

That fucking wench.

You’ve had enough practice breaking and entering through the many locks in Hogsmeade to be able to sneak into her abode. A simple hex would be child’s play, maybe you should curse her to lose one finger every time she writes a bad word against your beloved or maybe a limb or you should just do the wizarding world another favor and make her illiterate.

Once you were on the grounds you summoned your broom.

The punishment should fit the crime.

“Levioso.”

Before you could fly you found yourself already levitating up the air, from below Sebastian was way too pleased at your shrieks and foul mood.

“Let me down, Sebastian!” you kicked.

“I would but I would rather we not spend our lives running away from the ministry if you kill that journalist, my love.”

So, he has read it. The fact that he was able to see those vile words made your blood boil harder. Sensing your temper and the fact that you were about to break out of his spell he plays dirty.

“Accio.”

You shriek at the speed but the comfort of his arms was almost enough to quell the itch in your hands to curse that bloody witch into a pulp.

Almost.

He tightens his hug, playfully pulling you off the ground with a grunt and swaying the two of you gently. “Still upset?”

You push your blunt nails on his back and he chuckles. “It doesn’t bother me, you know.”

“It should!” you snap, a blast of your ancient magic smashing a statue to pieces that he quickly fixes with a ‘repairo’ without so much as a glance at the shrieking fifth years that had nearly gotten blasted with it. “It bothers me.”

That they think so lowly of him – him! A man worth ten –  if not hundreds – of those pompous pricks from noble houses who offers nothing but their ‘pure’ blood and rotting riches like it was enough, like it could buy your heart and pride.

If they knew –

If they knew it was him who cleaned your blood and licked the jagged wounds in your spirit in the quiet of your lowest nights, that it was this boy who pulled out the rubble of a girl after the war – carefully piecing it together until you felt like a person and not a hollow husk filled only by nightmares, that it was this lowly orphan they sneer at who had become your chain to your sanity – your family.

Would they still look down at him if they knew it was only his kindness, and his love, and him who stopped you from giving up on them? That if someone as beautiful as him could exist in the wizarding world then it was a world worth saving.

Sebastian frowns at your upset. Ominis had grossly underestimated how the article had affected you, he would be touched if he wasn't so angry.

“It shouldn’t,” he gently carries you like a bride – his bride – under the largest tree by the Beasts Class classroom, away from the prying eyes of a crowd, overlooking the lake. The songs of the breeze and birds were the perfect soothing balm along with his soft coos. “They can write about me all they want at the end of the day it is me who is coming home with you.”

He’s sure you’re aware that his overly sweet words are all to calm you down but you fall for it anyway, smiling on the skin of his neck. “I should have her tongue.”

He shushes you, pressing his fingers on your waist till it tickled, he smiles on your hair when you slap his shoulder. “Don’t you think you’ve terrified the freshmen enough with that mouth of yours.”

It doesn’t escape you that the other students have transferred their fear of Sebastian’s murky past to your present wicker-short temper. You are aware that it is only because of your impeccable grades, immeasurable talent and a sprinkle of Fig’s legacy that the headmaster has not suspended or expelled you for your insolence.

His palms run a soothing patten on your spine, letting you continue to bury your head on the crook of his neck to lull you into a calm.

You suddenly pull yourself away, looking straight at him. “Are you sure you don’t care? I promise I won’t get caught.”

He chuckles at that, pressing a kiss on the crown of your head before leaning back on the trunk of the tree, pulling you closer to him.

“Don’t worry,” he smiled. “As long as you still plan on marrying me nothing will ever bother me at all.”

“I reckon she's calmed down?”

Sebastian doesn’t bother to mask his stormy expression now that you have fallen into a nap, sparing Ominis a glance as he sits on one of the empty wooden crates.

“I was sure I’d catch the two of you digging up a shallow grave by now.”

Sebastian glances down at you, shaking his head. “Haven't you heard? I’m a changed man.”

Ominis chuckles at that. “Well, their vile words shouldn’t matter anyhow,” Ominis sighs, grateful at least that this betrothal had managed to calm at least one of his dearest friends down. “She’s yours now.”

The boy’s words made Sebastian think.

Think back to the first time he met you: the curiosity, the anticipation, the instant tug on his soul the first time your voice had pulled him out of his own head and you stood in front of him while the growing foreboding feeling that meeting in that room, in front of the fire was meant to be, bloomed in his chest.

He was young enough not to recognize love for what it was but not stupid enough to not act upon it. Monopolizing you and your attention, wrapping his being around you until people could no longer separate the two of you as individuals, guarding his precious hoard ferociously from wolves and thieves until he grew into the man who could claim it.

She’s yours now.

When he really, really, thinks about it, it almost makes him laugh. He always thought he'd lead a simple life. Get a decent job, marry a modest girl, and settle down into a humble life. Grand delusions weren't for him, that was more Anne's forte and he wasn't destined for a greater purpose, that was for Ominis.

And he was satisfied with that, honestly and truly thankful for it. He thrived in the shadows, after all.

But he met you and damned himself by falling in love with the one person he shouldn't have -- the one person he could never deserve even if he lived the rest of his life as a saint.

He loved a grand adventure personified and in a lickety-split threw away all of his dreams of a quiet life -- jumping straight into a den of goblins and trolls and certain death. Hit the ground running in a race between bachelors to get to you, to earn the honor of deserving your love. And even mercilessly overwhelmed any contender to your hand until it was uncontested that it was only him who could stand beside you.

It was only he who earned it.

She’s yours now.

In quiet moments he sometimes couldn't quite believe just what happened to his life in two years.

Because he never thought he'd fall in love with a brilliant witch vied by the world or that, out of all hands stretched out to her, she would hold his, that she would love him back.

She’s yours now.

Sebastian would beg to disagree.

It was fate. (He made it so.)

It was written. (He rewrote it.)

She’s always been mine.

[themultifanshipper]

hatesex with Daniel Riccardo x reader 🟠 reader is a sister of either max or Norris lol whatever works for you but they're at a party then Daniel and reader get to a huge argument max/Lando told them to settle it privately so they went to the guest room to talk it out and I guess you know where the story goes from here (reader getting absolutely railed by Daniel)

It’s hard to make a name for yourself in motorsports when your last name is already famous, in the form of a three time formula one world champion.

Warnings: driver!reader, Verstappen!reader, bickering, Daniel is a real dick in this one guys, but so is reader, rancid vibes, smut, PinV sex, rough sex, kinda dubious consent at first, choking, y’all know the drill, basically fighting and fucking at the same time, it's something

(Also I forgot to put the first prompt in the fic but it's the viiibe)

You'd trailed behind him, following his every step (with a few years difference) and at the age of 21 you were starting your second year driving for VCARB.

You had met Daniel back when he and Max were teammates, and you immediately disliked him.

He flirted with everything that had a pulse, and he'd jokingly made a pass at you, and you'd gone straight to tell your brother.

You were 15.

It didn't go down well, at all.

On both sides. Max was furious at him for flirting with you, and Daniel was furious at you for snitching given that he had no idea Max was your brother.

You'd always been a hot-headed child. Using your mouth before your brain was your biggest flaw.

Then Daniel moved to Renault and you didn't see him again much after that.

But you vowed that if he was still in F1 by the time you got there, you would make his life a living hell.

And it was just your luck, Perez got fired at the beginning of 2023, Yuki was promoted, and your teammate Nyck was dropped mid season. Which meant that through some kind of fucked up twist of fate, Daniel Ricciardo was now your teammate. And to make matters worse, Redbull's circus pony also had the seat the year after.

You were the Verstappen project 2.0, and Daniel was a deeply resentful motherfucker.

Forget Senna and Prost, forget Brocedes, forget the old Verstappen-Ricciardo rivalry.

There was a new Verstappen in town, and she was worse than the last.

More aggressive, more petty, more youthful, and more talented (although Max would disagree with that last one).

Daniel didn't stand a fucking chance.

You'd even tried to buy each other out of the team, unsuccessfully.

But you did have one thing over him, and he didn’t even know it yet. Max was retiring after his 4th title, and you had been given his seat.

Max of course was good friends with Daniel, which made social situations quite awkward sometimes.

Like the party you were currently at.

You had won the last race, in Australia of all places, and there was a two week break during which Lewis (coming off the high of a p2 in a shitbox of a Mercedes) decided to throw a massive party in his penthouse.

Lewis knew how to throw a party, no one could deny that, but he seriously needed to be more careful what kind of scum he let through his front door.

That was your alcohol addled mind talking as you spotted Daniel walk in, stupid shirt open showing his stupid toned chest and stupid pants accentuating his slutty waist and stupid thick thighs…

That was also the alcohol talking.

Somehow you both ended up in the same circle on the patio along with a few other drivers.

The conversation inevitably steered towards Daniel's future in F1 given that he didn't yet have a contract for the 2025 season.

“So how does it feel being outperformed by not one, but two Verstappens in your career?”

You knew the question was petty and stupid and could only lead to another one of your regularly scheduled shouting matches, but you didn't give a shit.

He stopped mid-sentence and narrowed his eyes at you.

“And, how does it feel that you're in a backmarker team 14 years into your career, being overshadowed by someone in their second year?”

The silence was palpable, the other drivers were sipping their drinks and pretending they weren't listening.

Daniel was staring at you as if he couldn't believe you would dare start this shit in front of the others.

But you were drunk and loose lipped and right now you were capable of saying anything to rile him up.

Such as-

“And, hear me out, wouldn't it be funny if I got the Redbull seat before you do? And I didn’t even have to suck Christian's dick to get it!”

The fact that you were getting the other seat next year hadn't been revealed to the public yet, or the other drivers, or Daniel.

The words hit the group like a freight train, and you almost regretted opening your mouth, but the look on Daniel's face made it entirely worth it.

His nostrils flared and he slowly got up, didn't say a single word, and went back inside.

 The circle let out a collective breath.

“No comeback” you sighed, disappointed, downing the rest of your glass.

Lando, who was sitting next to you stared at you “Is it true about the Redbull seat?”

You smirked at him.

“Maybeee”

You stood up, brushed yourself off and followed Daniel inside, with the intention of getting another drink, when you were stopped in the hallway by your brother.

“What the fuck did you say to Daniel?” he hissed as he pushed you into the kitchen. “He’s angrily ranting about Christian and I just know you have something to do with it!”

You crossed your arms defiantly and stared at the neck of his polo shirt, avoiding his eyes.

“I might have mentioned something about him being washed and not being considered for next year’s Redbull's seat…” you shrugged “He's only angry because it's true”

Daniel chose that exact moment to walk into the kitchen, and when his eyes landed on you he scoffed.

“Getting scolded by your big brother now? Must be hard living in his shadow”

Once again, your mouth reacted quicker than your brain.

“That's rich coming from Redbull's talentless cash cow”

“You only just turned 21 and you're already drinking so much everything out of your mouth is bullshit-”

“Okay, that's it!” Max yelled.

He slammed his drink down next to yours on the counter and dragged you to the nearest guest room, motioning for Daniel to follow you.

“You two are actually driving me up the wall with this shit! I don't know why you hate each other so much but I am sick of the constant bickering. You are not coming out of this room until you find some way to get along!”

He slammed the door shut on his way out and you and Daniel were left in silence.

You just stared at each other, full of contempt.

“I hate you”

“Oh, I know! You’ve made that abundantly clear!”

Silence once again fell upon you because neither of you had anything constructive or remotely helpful to say, so you sat down on the bed and picked at your nails.

He just scoffed again and started pacing around the room.

You didn’t know how long the silence lasted, but it felt like it stretched on for at least ten good minutes before you decided you’d had enough.

You stood up abruptly, planning on storming out of there without a word, your brother be damned, when you stopped by Daniel speaking up before you’d even made it halfway across the room.

“Is true about the RedBull seat?”

You realized for the first time how shitty his situation actually was. And it probably wasn’t made any better by your constant insulting him. And breaking the news to him like that, in front of everyone was probably humiliating, and quite frankly a very shitty thing to-

“Because if it is you definitely don’t deserve it. It should go to a driver that’s earned it with experience, not Max’s second rate bitch of a sister”

Okay, never mind then.

You turned around to face him. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“My problem” he started, pushing himself off the wall he’d been leaning against “is that you don’t deserve that seat, I do.”

“Well despite you sucking Christian’s dick for a decade, he doesn’t agree.”

Daniel stepped towards you, towering over your frame menacingly but you continued “I’ve scored double the points in the first half of this season that you scored in your entire time at this team, so whether you like it or not, I’ll be taking Max’s seat next year.”

He growled and leaned down so that there was barely an inch between your faces. “Say that again, I dare you.”

“Which part? The part about me being better than you? Or the part about how you’ve been bending over for any team boss that’ll have you? It’s not exactl- mmf!”

He’d grabbed your neck and crashed his lips to yours, silencing the onslaught of painful truths he couldn’t accept.

You reflexively grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled him closer, other hand weaving into his hair and pulling, making him grunt as he easily slipped his tongue into your eager mouth.

Fuck it felt good. It had been a while since you’d been able to find a random person who didn’t know who you were to have sex with, so you were slightly pent up. You could feel your body temperature rising as you started getting breathless, and Daniel bit your bottom lip.

You suddenly realised where you were and pushed him backwards roughly.

"I won in Australia"

“Fuck you” he panted.

“Never” you spat at him before attempting to walk past but he intercepted you and pushed you roughly onto the bed.

“Fuck you, fuck your trophy and fuck this fucking dress”

He took advantage of your disorientation to climb on himself and turn you over, hiking your hips up and shoving your dress up. 

“The fuck are you-“  you were interrupted by your panties being dragged down unceremoniously.

You gasped as a finger came to dip between your folds to feel the dampness that had pooled there. “Daniel don’t you fucking dare-“

“Pretty fucking wet for someone who claims to hate me” he slipped a finger in easily pumping it and out a couple of times before adding a second.

“I do hate you, and if you think anything you could possibly do will change that then you’re even more delusional than I thought” you managed to say through gritted teeth as he added a third, before undoing his belt and pushing his pants down just enough to get his hard cock out.

He popped the tip inside and slowly, inch by inch, slip into your tight heat.

I took everything you had in you to not make a sound, you refused to give him the satisfaction.

When he nudged your cervix you shuddered, but your lips stayed firmly sealed.

“Say the word and I’ll stop, sweetheart” he said, voice cracking with how good your walls felt around him, he’d waited for this moment for a long time.

You didn’t make a sound though, and he chuckled as he pulled out halfway.

“Thought so”

He thrusted back in roughly, making you choke on a moan as he continued at a relentless pace and his hips slapped against yours.

You whined quietly and he leaned over you, hips never faltering, to whisper in your ear “what was that beautiful? I didn’t quite catch it…”

After a particularly hard thrust you moaned properly for the first time and he laughed.

“Fuck you” you spat and his hand went to wrap into your hair to pull your head back as he mouthed at your neck.

“I am fucking you, and you’re going to come on my cock. Because even if you get the seat, I’ll get the satisfaction of knowing I have something Max doesn’t. This sweet fucking pussy, drooling helplessly around my cock while he’s in the other room.”

Each thrust was harder than the last, and your eyes were rolling back into your skull as you tried to maintain some sort of control.

But you were failing miserably, Daniel somehow hitting all the perfect spots as your legs gave out and you were forced to lay flat on the bed while Daniel pushed your head down into the pillows and he bullied his cock into your weeping cunt mercilessly.

“Daniel, fuck!” you whimpered, you high quickly approaching after the change of angle “Shit, I’m gonna…”

You were right on the edge, but Daniel pulled out suddenly, ripping your orgasm from your grasp.

“What-!”

He turned you over and pressed you into the mattress by your neck and shoved his cock back into you before you could protest further.

“I want to see you come undone on my cock, see your pretty face as you lose control.”

You gave him the most hate-filled look you could muster, but it quickly slipped away when he hooked one of your legs over his shoulder to deepen the angle.

Small whimpers escaped you despite you biting your lip to keep quiet.

That displeased Daniel greatly, so he grabbed your jaw and leaned over you.

“Open.”

He was so forceful you had no choice but to comply and he shoved two fingers in your mouth and pressed down on your tongue to stop you from concealing your noises.

“Wanna hear you baby, I want Max to hear how his precious little sister is actually a whore. How Christians new driver is fucking ruined on my cock. How despite how much you think you hate me, you’re going to scream my name while I fill you up.”

Your hands were scratching down his back at this point, only encouraging him to go harder, and your abandoned high quickly came back full force.

You moans got higher in pitch and Daniel used his other hand to rub messy circles over your puffy clit, essentially throwing you over the edge as your orgasm knocked the wind out of you.

Your cunt spasmed and clenched around Daniel and there wasn’t much he could do to hold off his own high as he came inside you, head falling to the crook of your neck as his hips finally grinded to a halt.

He didn’t move for a while as you both lay there catching your breaths, slowly coming to terms with what you’d just done.

“Max is going to fucking kill you” you said, and he snorted before pulled out.

“Oh please, Max is in love with me. Besides, who’s gonna tell him? You?” he raised a cocky eyebrow as you pursed your lips.

He was right, you sure as hell weren’t going to tell your brother about this.

“Whatever, you’re paying for my plan B. I’ll send you the bill.”

He just chuckled as you quickly got to your feet to pull your dress down and straighten yourself up in front of the large mirror in the corner (God, Lewis was a freak) before going off to find a bathroom to clean yourself up properly in.

In the corridor, you ran into Max, who crossed his arms and blocked your path.

“Well? Did you two sort it out?”

“No” you growled and he sighed dejectedly.

You didn’t have time for this though, you could feel Daniel’s cum leaking out of you and running down your leg, so you pushed Max out of the way and rushed to the nearest bathroom.

Unbeknownst to you, Daniel came out of the bedroom right after, and just as Max looked at him he was still putting his belt back on.

It didn’t take a genius to guess what that meant, Max saw red as Daniel froze, the older man noticing him a beat too late.

Well, so much for keeping it on the down low…

The rest of the season was going to be interesting…

[hitomisuzuya]

Kunikuzushi (Scaramouche) x fem! reader. Smut. Cunnilingus. Kunikuzushi giving. One brief mention of killing. Yandere! Kunikuzushi. Mention of bondage.

This is by no means written sober lol. I just wanted to write about Scara as Kuni for awhile, mainly discovering eating out for the first time. I saw fics going around like this and wanted to write one of my own.

Kunikuzushi made it a habit to study human nature. He was a people watcher. Inevitably, he heard sex discussed one day between two drunk blacksmiths. However, instead of asking about it, he preferred to read about it. He found out a lot of things that took him awhile to process, but ultimately filed it away in the back of his mind as basic human knowledge.

He didn't have any use for it until he met you.

Kunikuzushi didn't exactly know when he started to spend all his free time with you. But the more time went by, the more he started to notice certain little things about you. The way your hips swayed when you walked. The way you always smelled so good. How soothing it was to listen to the sound of your voice. The way your fingers moved when you did things.

While indulging tea way too sweet for his liking, Kunikuzushi overheard that same two drunk blacksmiths talking about oral sex. He listened with his head cocked, listening to them talk about how good it could taste and how good it was to feel pussy clenched around the tongue.

Later, he went and read about it. He even found light novels from Yae Publishing House, or books from merchants that had detailed descriptions in it. He read about all kinds of things, like squirting and different things he could do with tongue or fingers.

The more he read about, the more thoughts of doing those things to you flooded his mind. He would even dare say it consumed him. Late into the night, he would fist his cock and think about eating you out. He swore he couldn't have pumped enough cum onto his hands to abate the thoughts.

One day, Kunikuzushi got up the nerve to ask you about it. And you were already in the perfect position: on your back on your bed, listening to him talk about how sickeningly sweet he thought the tea had been today.

"Do you know what oral sex is? He asked abruptly, looking at you hesitantly in anticipation for how you would respond.

You were silent for a moment, your cheeks flushing in a way he'd always found adorable. He could tell you were contemplating the best way to explain it to him. "Yeah, I know what it is. It's where someone uses their mouth on their partner between their legs to make them feel good," You fidgeted with your fingers as you talked.

Were you..flustered about him asking? Kunikuzushi decided to press you further. He didn't know how else to ask other than being straightforward. He wondered if anyone had ever done it to you. He secretly hoped no one had.

Kunikuzushi wanted to have you all to himself. In every way. The thought of anyone else having your thighs squeezed around their head while you whimpered that you were cumming made him want to squeeze his hands around their throat until their eyes popped out of their sockets.

This, he gathered, must be jealousy.

"Has anyone gone down on you?" The blunt question blindsided you. Your cheeks flushed darker as you shook your head. "No, I haven't," He was delighted at how flustered and shy you looked. Studying human behavior told him that you'd fantasized about it before. Did he dare think that right at this moment, you were thinking about him eating you out?

Kunikuzushi didn't know if he could he bring himself to tell you that one time, he'd spied on you fingering yourself and rubbing your clit. He'd practically drooled, quietly panting as he watched your fingers pump desperately in and out of your hole. He'd palmed his cock with a trembling hand, listening to you moan and sigh.

"Can I go down on you? When I think about it, I get really hard," He responded, further throwing you for a loop. You suddenly wondered where he had learned to talk like this. He hoped that you'd been thinking about him while you fingered yourself that night. His cock had pulsed almost painfully hearing you whimpering that you couldn't cum, your lower lip pulled between your teeth as you rubbed and pinched your clit.

"S-Sure," You said, and Kunikuzushi swore that if he had a human heart, it would be beating right out of his chest. It overwhelmed him sometimes how strongly he could feel what classified as human emotions to him. You drove him to feel this way. He'd long since given up trying to fight it.

He got up and crawled onto your bed, his lips capturing yours in a soft kiss as he crawled on top of you. This wasn't the first time something like this had happened. He'd more than gotten ahead of himself a few times, his hands groping on your body while he pinned you underneath him or against the wall while he devoured your mouth with his.

Kunikuzushi had stopped apologizing for it after the second or third time. It has only spurred him on to do it more frequently when you showed you liked it, moving into his touches and pressing your body up against his.

He would never force himself on you, and now that you'd give him complete verbal permission instead of physical actions, he was less hesitant and more eager. His hands clumsily pawed at your clothes, his fingers shaking as he took your panties off last and spread your legs.

Kunikuzushi licked his lips as he parted the folds of your cunt with his hand. It looked pink, and soft, already damp in response to his hands groping on your body. The pads of his fingers rubbed on your clit, sweeping down to trace lines up and down on your cunt.

Your thighs felt soft as he groped and ghosted his wet fingers on the sensitive skin close to your cunt. Leaning down, his teeth nipped and sucked at your flesh, busying his fingers on your pussy again. He was eager to see how wet he could make you while he bit and sucked possessive bruises, his tongue prodding soothingly on the inflamed skin.

Your breaths started to come out shakily, your clit throbbing as his fingers circled and rubbed, sweeping down to circle your hole, rapidly soaking your juices on his skin. Your body was starting twitch in response, and that was what he wanted.

Your body was tensing in anticipation of his strokes. You were starting to crave him. To want him. And he latched onto that like a rabid dog with its jaws around a human limb.

Kunikuzushi decided it was time. His tongue swept out to trace the shape of your puffy pussy. His body tingled, your taste assaulting his tongue. His tongue drug slowly across your clit. He indulged in the texture of your cunt on his tongue, slowly prodding and swirling the tip around and around.

He vibrated moan on your pussy. Now he understood what the blacksmiths meant by pussy tasting good. Soft whines and moans keened from your parted lips, your hips grinding up against his mouth.

Kunikuzushi scooped your clit into his mouth to suck on. He was fascinated by the responses from your body. Your stomach started to twitch, your legs started to shake as louder moans sounded from you.

"Good girl," He moaned, making your back arch off the bed. He was focused on your every noise and every twitch as you started to writhe, your hips squirming and bucking into his mouth. His eyes rolled closed in bliss as he swept his tongue inside of you. Your hands found the back of his head, pressing his face down onto your cunt as you grinded into his mouth. "I can taste you better that way."

"Ah, Archons! Kuni," You cried out. Your hands tightened on his head, tugging at his hair as you held his face against your pussy. He was dragging his tongue in slow circles around your clit again. You gasped, your clit throbbing as your cunt clenched around nothing.

Kunikuzushi looked up at you, his eyes hazy and glassy with lust. You were crying out to the Archons, but you hadn't named one. Was he your God in this moment?

His tongue felt like it was exploring inside of you, swirling and lapping between your walls. He focused his tongue when your cunt clenched around him. He didn't think he'd ever tasted something so soft and desirably sweet.

The pleasure was dizzying, your orgasm building up tight in your core. You shivered as you writhed, his hands caressing your hips as he held your cunt against his mouth. He vibrated grunt on your clit, whimpering in bliss as drool pool down your pussy.

Kunikuzushi didn't notice he was whining and rutting against your mattress until cum spurted inside his pants. He was so carried away listening to your moans and broken whimpers, his body shaking as he held your hips down on the mattress.

"Cum for me, I need to taste it," Moaning, he latched his lips around your clit. He focused his sucks, swirling his tongue greedily. Your fingernails dug into the back of his scalp as your orgasm broke over you.

The way you clenched around his tongue as he lapped your release, ravenously tongue fucking you through your orgasm was intoxicating to him. He became addicted to that feeling.

After that, it became routine for Kunikuzushi to spend hours between your legs. He was breaking you slowly with his mouth. He was only growing more insatiable. Soon it would be with his fingers. And then his cock.

His thoughts were already swirling of burying his cock and fingers inside of you. You were starting to beg him to cum, which was perfect to him because he'd read about what bondage was. How exhilarating it would be for him to tie you up while he ate you out.

[juletheghoul]

greedy

a/n: I cannot be stopped at this point, this man brings out the WHORE in me and I have happily accepted my fate lol. This is un beta-ed, any mistakes are my own. Shout out to @foli-vora for being a constant source of love and support and for contributing so much to this world, thanks my love! 🩷Hopefully you enjoy!

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, Marcus being a total glutton for your greed over him, creampie, heavy possessive feelings from you because lets be REAL, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance), Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus, let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 2.4k

reblogs are appreciated

Prev chapter Masterlist series masterlist

His house was in order, and that was mostly thanks to you. 

Since your return to Rome, and the villa, he has been busy. Mostly, it’s been a parade of high ranking officials, members of the noble families making their pilgrimage to pay homage to the ‘Saviour of Rome’.

He despised it.

With all of the ferocity within him, he despised it. You could see it in his visage, in the clench in his jaw when they’d come to call. The way the normally confident expression in his eyes, faltered and focused on his sandaled feet. If he hadn’t been the person he was, you might have laughed. But he was, and so you didn’t. 

After a few weeks it inevitably died down, and the whole house seemed to take a deep breath, it wasn’t to last though. Just as the air seems to settle, someone comes calling, someone very important. 

“Lavinia–” She is a true beauty, of high Roman birth and the daughter to one of the most influential men in Rome, just a step below the Emperor himself. “You honour me…” He is at a loss for words as she floats into the halls of his house. His eyes find yours but you don’t need him to say a word, within a moment you’re flitting towards the other attendants, and within the span of a few breaths, his table is laid out with enough food and wine to impress even one as fine as her. 

“I have caught you unawares have I not?” She giggles and the sound is almost calculated to ensnare, the jewels at her throat and dangling from her ears glinting almost as brightly as her eyes “I am glad to see I am not vying with anyone else for your attention, I wanted you all to myself this day.” He leads her to his table, and sends everyone out of the room but you. 

“Yes, well.” He clears his throat, and already you can feel him closing up, hiding behind his mask of courtesy. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

You stand behind his chair at the ready, and watch her cast her spell on him, silently. 

“Does one such as me need a reason to visit with you General Marcus? Surely with your victory you’d have a steady parade of young, quite available women marching through your halls, fighting tooth and nail to catch your eye.” She shook out her long blonde waves, subtly, but not so subtly angling herself in the most flattering way. “You are unmarried and unattached as of yet, all of Rome knows it.” She bites her lip, appealing to him in the way beautiful women always appeal to men and it shocks you to feel the unfamiliar stab of anger in your belly. 

He grunted, noncommittally. 

“I have come to…speak of such things.” She stretched towards him like a cat, picking a grape from the platters on the table, and nibbling at it softly, her lips the colour of ripe pomegranates. “If you would care to hear them, of course.” 

He has no interest in marriage, he cares too much for his time alone, he will tell you to leave–

“I will, of course, listen to whatever you have to say, Lavinia.” If you hadn’t been as experienced with him, you would have gasped. Instead, you stood there, trying with all your might to keep the shock off your face, and the tremble out of your hands. “Wine.” He spoke the word clearly, and it pulled you out of your shocked anger behind him. With a practiced hand, you poured for him, and then moved quickly to pour for her. 

You don’t catch his eye, but you feel it on you, no doubt noting the furrow in your brow,  tracking you, as you make your way back to your place behind him. You let go of a deep, steadying breath and for a moment you could swear on all of the Gods you see him smile over his shoulder. In the blink of an eye, it’s gone. 

“Let us speak of them then.” She claps her hands together happily, “My father would have come to speak to you sooner or later, but I thought it best to test the waters myself, without the scrutiny of his eye.” She leans towards him again, elbows on his table, holding her delicate face in her hands and even you have to admit, it’s masterful. The jewels on her fingers only enhance the hue of her eyes. She takes advantage of the cut of her dress, the calculated pieces of flesh she has on display, and how cunningly she uses them is something to behold. You look down at the simple tunic you wear, the uniform of your station and all at once, you feel beneath her, beneath everyone. 

“And what would your father have to say to me, I believe you are more than capable of making a case for yourself. You strike me as the sort of woman that gets what she wants.” His tone is different, he sounds almost interested and it’s a dagger through your heart. 

Steel yourself, you are nothing but a slave, no matter how many times he buries himself inside you. You are what’s available, until he finds another, equal to him. 

She giggles, tickled, but unsurprised that he seems to be responding to her charms. 

“I do get what I want, in the end.” She smiles, and it is truly lovely, “and what I want is you.” 

“Shall I fetch more wine Dominus?” You step beside him, whispering with a tremble in your voice, hoping, wishing, praying to all of the Gods that he’ll spare you from this torment. 

“No.” A soft word, and your stomach turns. You step back silently. “I am surprised you have come to me, I am sure there are armies of men ready to fight to the death for you, why am I the one you want”

“Oh come now Marcus, you have just led our army in a great victory, the streets cry out your name, the Emperor himself has thanked you for your service, you are the most desired man in all of Rome, you know this.” She brushes his question off, “I can raise you up higher still, to the very halls of the Senate, should you wish it.” 

“The Senate? And what would I do in the Senate? I am no politician, I am quite content where I am.” He smiles for her benefit, and you do your best to remain impartial, and invisible. 

Unfeeling. Unmoving.

“It is an option, should you want it.” She reiterates, “Now, what do you say of this match? What are your thoughts?” She picks more food off the plates, completely confident. 

“I will say this, you honour me greatly,” She smiles, licking at the tips of her delicate fingers, “It is a lot to consider, and I would be grateful if I could have some time to think, send you word of my final decision once I’ve had time to settle back into civilian life.” He bows his head to her and she responds in kind, seemingly pleased with his response. 

She stays longer than the others, and he entertains her to her heart's content, sharing the less violent stories from the war he’d just won and letting her have her fill of his food and hospitality, and you stand behind him. Listening to it all. Until she grows tired and tells him she must depart. 

“I look forward to hearing your answer, don’t make me wait too long.” She smiles, pressing forward and kissing his cheeks boldly. 

“It was lovely to see you, please give your father my greetings. Be safe.” 

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, the air in the room felt thin and for a moment, your thoughts clouded your awareness. 

“You are angry.” His voice cuts through your reverie, making you jump where you stand at his table, setting it to rights. 

“Dominus?”

“Speak plainly, girl. You are displeased with Lavinia coming here, offering herself to me.” He stares at you, his eyebrow raised from his place on his favoured chair. 

“I, I have no cause, no reason–” You stumble over your words, wringing your hands to stay obedient.

“Yes you do. She comes into this house, this house that has been your home for a long time, and asks to make it her own. She would be your Domina, and that angers you.” He speaks with a smile in his voice, his eyes shining with the novelty of your misplaced, and maybe grossly inappropriate anger. 

“I, Dominus–your will is my will, whatever you command–” He raises his hand and for a moment you see a flicker of anger. 

“Speak truthfully now, girl. I see the rage on your face. I feel it in your gaze. I will hear the truth, tell me how you feel.” He narrows his eyes for a moment, and you know he wants to hear the truth. 

“I hate it.” You let go of a deep breath, steadying yourself for the wrath of insolence but it never comes, instead, he smiles. 

“I would hear your reasons.”

“I–I would not have her come here. I would not have her marry you. I have no wish to call her Domina or have her order me away from you. I… I would keep you all to myself,” his smile widens, “Dominus.”

He gestures for you to come closer, and you do, until you stand before him. 

“Would you now?” You stand in the space between his legs, watching the way his eyes dilate to hear you speak of keeping him. 

“Yes Dominus, I would have you all to myself, I would not have her keeping your bed warm.” You seethe at the thought of it, to hear him having her, the way he has you makes your blood boil and he smiles bigger still, his eyes crinkling with the mirth of it. 

“Tell me, my fearsome girl, how greedy you are that you cannot share your Dominus with another.” His hands slide up the backs of your legs, slipping up to cup your backside while your hands land onto his shoulders. 

“I am greedy, I cannot share you Dominus, I will not.” You press yourself closer to him, your fingers threading through his graying curls. “I could not bear to hear you with her.”

“Hmm. You want my cock all for your own, is that it? Only you are fit for the gift of my seed? Tell me.” He pulls your tunic up, and off, stripping you of everything until you stand bare before him. “Only you, and this sweet little cunt, hm? Is that the way of it?” He presses kisses to your belly as he speaks and all at once the anger is gone and replaced with a hunger that only he can satisfy. 

“Yes Dominus, only me-” You pull his face up and claim his mouth, moaning into it at the feeling of his hand cupping your sex. 

“Take it then, girl, take what so clearly belongs to you, what you would keep all to yourself.” 

You waste no time in stripping him bare, relishing to see the way his cock stands at attention for you, and not for the other woman. You ache at the sight of it, the proof of your desire for him dripping onto your thighs in your haste to mount him and when you finally feel him notch his cock at the mouth of your cunt, you practically drop yourself onto it. 

He groans to feel the way you clench around him, the two of you breathing heavily into each other's faces, adjusting to the way his cock seems to kiss your womb. 

“Is this what you wanted, girl?” He bucks up underneath you, and your breasts bounce in his face, mesmerizing him enough to make him do it again. “To claim me like this? Tell me–is this cock yours? Am I yours?” He bounces you again and it’s hard to focus on anything but the fullness of him, the way you feel the pleasure of it lights up every nerve in your body. 

“Yes, yes Dominus, mine–” Your fingers grasp his hair tightly and with every flex of his hips, you roll yours, grinding the pleasure center of your universe against the coarse hairs at the base of his sex. “Your cock is mine, only mine.” he lets out a filthy moan to hear it, and your nipples harden. 

“It is yours, take it, Gods, take it all–” He cannot seem to control himself, quicker and quicker he flexes, until your arousal drenches his lap and the sounds between your legs are wet and obscene. 

“Harder please Dominus, I want it harder–” You hold onto his shoulders, rolling your hips faster and within a moment, he moves forward, placing you on the plush carpet at his feet. Once on the floor, his hips piston and the sounds of your coupling ring out through the room. 

Your orgasm takes you by surprise, your legs seizing up on his hips, and pulling a scream from your throat. He groans, feeling the way you squeeze around him, the force of your climax milking his cock dry. 

“God's girl, you have knocked the wind from me.” He breathes hard in your ear, pressing his lips to your mouth before moving his kisses down your throat, peppering them across your chest. His tongue licks at one nipple, then the other, making you flutter around him. 

A few moments pass, and although you are comforted by his weight, you don’t want to overstep. He forestalls you though. 

“Come girl, I would have this place set to rights, and retire to bed.” He pulls out with a hiss, moving up and away, “I would have you tell me of your anger, in depth, in my chambers.” He holds out his hand to help you up, and you take it with a smile. 

----

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[sordidmusings]

How to Break Rules (Sir Crocodile x Reader)

Art by xuchuan25 on x!

TUMBLR ATE THE FUCKING ASK WHEN I SAVED IT AS A DRAFT 🙃 luckily I had it saved in my doc and it was anon so they wouldn't have been notified anyway

Anon Ask: Crocodile doesn't seem like the type to kiss during sex unless he's down bad. Maybe he starts a casual relationship with a strict "no kissing on the lips" rule but anywhere else is fair game. It's fun to think of the different ways a possible "first kiss" could happen when he's already rawed you lol and the different reactions if he initiates it or you do and whether it's spur of the moment or calculated.

A/N: OOOOOOOOOO love this and have actually come across this in my own travails haha as someone who loves service, there is such a rush in being told “you can kiss me anywhere but my lips; you have to earn that” 😩 Like it’s just dangling that fruit of how much of a rush it’ll be when you earn the right, when you’re told you’ve been so good for so long. It is also kind of a wild and intense dynamic to be in to have done So Much Stuff but not a simple kiss 💀💀💀

I will also say that I have a WIP smut request in this vein that has been FIGHTING ME FOR MONTHS 🥲 except it’s reader who has put down the rule of “no kissing” and the reason is because love is a requirement for it. Hoping this exercise helps get more flowing for continuing that beloved behemoth 🙏🏻 Ficlets and thoughts in bulleted form below! They get longer as they go because that’s what tends to happen for me lol

Word Count: ~3k total over a few scenarios and such

Warnings: brief allusions to sex but nothing nsfw, gn!reader, not actually unrequited love, a few flavors of reader personality, from very bratty to docile, for dynamic variety 🤌🏻, jealousy/possessiveness

Goodies below the cut - dig in (‘∀’●)♡

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

At first I was a bit clinical in my brainstorming of this, more stuck on the grid of who does it to who 

He kisses you

Involuntarily

Poor croc is finally at his limit in keeping his lips from yours and being so deep in indulging in all the rest of you is his undoing. Every piece of you feels so good even though every moment with you is agony - agony from having you but not all of you, being with each other but not belonging to each other. He was Tantalus and you were his fruit and drink, always slipping just past his fingertips. If he could taste you, share your breaths, feel your voice, then maybe he’d finally stop wasting away. 

On purpose

You’ve been vexing him with your teasing, always gifting him the touch of your soft lips everywhere but his own. He didn’t want to be the one to fold on his own rule, but no matter how loose he got your mind, how far you were from forming words, how pliant and placating, you’d kiss him and kiss him and kiss him but never his lips. It didn’t matter if he hovered his own over yours close enough to taste your voice on the air, you’d never push forward. It was maddening. 

One day he finally barks at you after you turn your face away, “Why do you always run?” 

You answer, confused and honest, “You told me I wasn’t allowed.” 

The response is a hook at your neck, pulling you closer; a hand in your hair, cradling you; a mouth on your own, consuming you.

A promise to you that you’re truly his

This Sir Croc warms more to the idea of you being his with no qualms stemming from his own pride. 

It took a long while, but your home in Croc’s life was built brick by brick, sure and steady and obvious. He noticed it and kept an eye on it like he did with everything, but he did not reject nor rush it. No, it was inevitable beyond his will, the way you slipped into his head and chest and nested there. No stubbornness would stop the way it warmed him. No clinging would allow you deeper into a space that was always meant to be yours. As he first noticed the foundation you’d set, saw the promise of his future in your care and vision, he knew he was meant to exist next to you. 

He waited for this understanding to sink in you too. It never did. 

No matter his well-thought gifts, steadfast support, or opulent compliments, you never pressed to take more promises from him than he offered himself, never set to make claim to him outside of closed doors. He knew he had to change that. 

The thought possesses him the next time he brings you around with him and someone has the gaul to approach you. They ask about why Croc keeps you so close to see if they had a chance to stick to your side instead. That won’t do. 

Croc stalks over quickly, seeping dominance but not quite aggression. When he gets to you, he places a weighty hand on your right shoulder and leans over the left, fully encasing you in his presence. 

All the other man sees is the threat leaning over your shoulder and he scatters before you can finish saying “-my boss.”

Much happier with Croc surrounding you, you lean back into his warm chest. A low chuckle plays with the hair around your ear, causing you to shiver in delight.

“A boss? Is that all I am to you?” There’s a teasing lilt to his deep voice, one steeped in deep fondness.

“Of course not,” you assure. He guides you to turn with his hook under your chin, letting his fingers tickle the back of your neck to your other shoulder as you spin to face him. The smile on your lips is easy and familiar and softens Croc into clay, ready and happy to be molded into whatever you want. Yet you always just ease him back into his own shape, each time with fewer cracks and dents, waiting for him to be as solid as he’d like for when he enters the kiln.

“Then tell me, dear,” his voice is as warm and rich as the purple of his eyes. He pulls his cigar from his lips with two fingers. You watch his lips as he speaks. “What am I?”

Before the falter in your smile can fully steal it away, Croc slips forward to taste it on your lips. You freeze and Croc snakes his hook behind your neck to pull you forward, but by the time it gets there you’re already pressing into him. You’d never forgive yourself if you didn’t savor the feeling of finally belonging fully to each other.

You kiss him

Power Move

Sir Croc never seemed able to control you and he loved and loathed it in equal parts. It’s one of the reasons he sought you in the first place. You knew exactly when to push and when to follow, when to challenge and when to submit. It was a very rare day when you genuinely got on his nerves.

Today is a very rare day.

You’re clearly upset with Sir Croc - not leaning into his affection, barely answering his attempts at conversation, unwilling to look at his face for more than a second. More than anything you refuse to tell him what’s wrong.

Now, you’re not doing it just to piss him off; you don’t feel quite allowed to be upset about the issue so you don’t want to share. You don’t want to have an attitude but every time you see him it reminds you of the realization that you’d do anything for him. Worse than that, that thought was immediately followed by the Knowing that you aren’t his and the uncertainty that you ever will be.

Right now, you feel like you’re not his to have, but his to use.

Though, he does give you special treatment. He lets you closer to him than any others, treats you with gentleness except when you corner him into using a firm hand. He’s never even used his power over you when it’s not for play and pleasure. Except for one little rule.

No kissing on the lips. 

You thought you’d earn it months ago. You’ve earned everything else, every sweet treatment and treasure you could think of will be yours if you ask it of him. He’s come to spoil you even more rotten than a queen with her fat lap dog, and yet you’ve not gotten a single kiss to the lips.

It’s begun to feel like he’s keeping it from you to let you know he’ll never fully give himself to you because he never fully intended to keep you. And it hurts.

And now he’s mad because you’re mad but you can’t tell him why you’re mad and the whole thing is maddening.

You watch him knock the ash off his dwindling cigar into the ornate ceramic tray on his desk. The heavy sigh accompanying it annoys you. Why is he the one sighing?

Oh, now he’s rubbing at his temple. He thinks he’s frustrated? You’ll show him frustration.

“Should I go?” You ask, peeking at him from the corner of your narrowed eyes.

“Do you want to go?” Croc rebuts, sounding confounded and at the end of his rope.

You eye him unhappily. 

Instead of responding, you stand up from the leather sofa across from his grand desk. It’s a decent distance, two chairs to its sides are placed closer, but of course you chose to sit away from him today. It’s to your advantage now; you need space for your next move.

You make your way to him slowly, swerving your hips smoothly the way he likes and adding a teeny bit of weight to each step - both to be closer to stomping and to have the motion give a slight bounce to all the soft parts of you for him to watch.

And watch he does - his face melts into the hungry admiration he saves for you, albeit still a bit guarded. 

When you get to his desk, instead of addressing him you gracefully gather the papers spread across it into your hands. You take a moment to pretend to scan through and consider them, only to frisbee them onto one of the chairs.

Croc’s eyes turn sharp and burning.

“Brat-” he cuts himself off, looking at your face and picking up that you’re having even less fun than he is. He sucks in a tense breath and hisses it back out. Let’s try that again.

“Am I working too much and you need more attention? Is that why you’re having a fit?”

Good enough.

“If I was having a fit, the whole base would know,” you bite back at him.

Instead of arguing or redirecting, Sir Croc settles on watching you. Nothing’s worked, so he’ll just allow you to take this wherever it’s headed.

You plant your palms on his desk and let the quiet linger. He lets you lean into his space and stare him down. He’s unsure what you’re looking for and honestly so are you. You’re unsure if you find it but you do find some fortitude in the settling air. You finally speak up.

“Do you remember the rule you set when we started this…” your eyes flit around, searching for the right word, “agreement?”

“No kissing on the lips unti-”

Your hand is fisted in his shirt, your lips are warm and insistent against his.

You expect anger, pulling back, or even shoving hands. Instead, Croc is scrambling out of his seat, careful to keep your lips locked, and helping you to clamber over the desk towards him with a greedy grip. You won’t be free from his taste or hold the whole night through. Now that they’ve had you, they’ll haunt you all your days, keeping him alive with each time they possess you.

You sneak your way into it

Sir Crocodile doesn’t get to enjoy late risings often. That’s why he makes sure to wring them of all they’re worth, and that’s only become better with you there. 

Knowing that the morning lacked a rude awakening, you both indulged in a night of the senses - seeing the sights, hearing live music, eating and drinking with abandon before coming home to get your fill of each other in all five senses, especially touch.

As Sir Croc comes back to his body, floating from the abyss of sleep one breath at a time, he finds his sense of touch being coaxed and teased. Gentle fingers brush across his skin along familiar trails made to map and admire his large form. They round over muscles, press into places of softness, tickle at the sensitive skin of his wrist, his blunted forearm, his hips, his neck.

The touches all feel so full of adoration and something else he’s felt more and more from you. He’s finding it harder and harder to ignore, especially because he’s used to adoration and there’s something different in yours - something softer, gentler, surer. Something he is sure by now is genuine love.

Each time it comes out he lets it wash over him as best he can without solidifying its bond. After all, this was never meant to be love.

But feeling your affection made it impossible to ignore how much better life would be if he always woke up with you.

Sir Croc encourages more of your touches, following them where he could and bedding his cheek into the top of your head. You happily snuggle deeper against him and his heart leaps.

Knowing he’s awake, you begin placing sweet kisses against his skin, teasing at the edge of his trimmed chest hair. He lets out a long breath with the undertone of a content groan rumbling through it. You smile against the plush of his pec, happy he’s still fuzzy from sleep and primed for your plot

Your lips trail and massage higher, over clavicle and to neck. He tilts his jaw away to give you free reign of the sensitive skin from his throat to his ear. Your thigh mimics the rising of your lips, trailing slow and tender over Croc’s front until it brushes from his thigh to his stomach. The rise and fall with his breathing is calming under you and the steadiness made it easier to notice when his breathing hitched and his muscles twitched against you.

His hand returned your affection mindlessly, simply following whatever instinct compelled him. Mostly it trailed from the nape of your neck to your hip and back, taking small moments to press you closer when he didn’t want one of your kisses to move quite yet.

Everything was deep breaths echoing against skin, the comforting pressure of bodies melding wherever you touched, the dance of give and take with affection. Each place you pushed your love, Croc opened himself to feel more of it, even when you left his shoulder chest and neck to explore his scarred cheek

He doesn’t even hesitate to let you near when you first trail the tip of your nose over the strong angle cut by his jaw. The barely there stubble blended to a moment of pure softness before being interrupted by the ridges of his scar

Croc is fully and willingly enchanted by your soft and smooth actions. He couldn’t bear to make you stop, couldn’t care for any pretense or boundary of his it would break so long as you don’t stop touching him so sweetly. His whole body feels light and alive and he’s struck with the realization that he’s as in deep as you are.

You place your first kiss to his face on his scar where it cuts across his cheekbone. He presses just a millimeter deeper into the plush of your lips

You follow the path of the scar, feeling his lashes tickle the tip of your nose on your way. All the while Croc keeps his languid caresses going on your skin, still lulled by recent sleep and the comfort of your touch and warmth and the want for more.

When you get to the bridge of his nose, you break contact to press your foreheads together. His hand slips up your back to rest at the back of your neck, holding you to him. You bump your nose on his and he bumps back. You tilt to leave a kiss on his cheek. His finger tail up to softly scratch at the base of your skull. You smile against him and feel his own cheek rise momentarily against you.

Sir Crocodile feels more free of thought and obligation than he has in years. Your slow acts of worship have brought out a peace in him that he’s rarely known. There is no rush or push, just a calmness and sureness that this is where he should be and how he should feel. That you both belong here.

And then something changes when you kiss right outside the corner of his lip.

He is left wanting.

You linger at the spot before moving just barely away and coming back just a hair closer to his own lips.

Each near miss felt unnatural and unsatiating, quickening his heart and breath in his discomfort and discontent. The hand at your head goes from caressing to holding, urging you to stop fleeing and teasing.

You smile again against him and this time there’s no mirrored grin from him; he’s falling too quickly into a pit of need, one he didn’t notice you digging with every caress and kiss.

You tease  your lips to the corner of his, planning to press more firmly directly on target, but his hand grips you firmly and he’s turning and insistent lips slot hungrily against yours.

You gasp in delight while he shudders out a breath he’s been holding since he met you.

Then I had a better angle come to me by remembering a basic writing preference, that the circumstances around the kiss - the ‘why’ not just the ‘what’ are much better for generating a scene, luckily in the above I think I amended that mistake when I went into more detail! (keeping these more to the stream I originally wrote them in cuz I fear I went on too long above LOL)

He kisses you after fearing for your safety

He kisses you for fear you’ll leave

You kiss him in anger, wanting to prove you’re worthy

He kisses you while you sleep, too afraid for you to know the hold you’ve had on him all along

He kisses you to soothe you, pull you from your fears and sorrows to just float with him in your little bubble away from all the hurts of the world, held aloft by sensation and need and affection

He kisses you to possess you, someone else coming too close and needing the message

You kiss him in joy, ignoring all the dirt and grime that came back with him from Impel Down

You kiss him with a sorrowful heart, needing to comfort the man who was larger than life now sat sadly before you bare of all, even his golden hook and ego

You kiss each other, your lips had sweetly made their way up his neck and across that strong jaw, coming to rest unsure right at the corner of his lips, your shaky breathes puff sweetly across his cheek as he tilts his head to rest temple to forehead, the turn to face you fully is slow and caressing, his own breath coming to mingle with yours, your noses bushing gently. The barest tilt of his head has your lax lips tentatively brush his, just the faintest tickle of skin on skin. A shaky exhale - his or yours you’re not sure - and your lips press more surely, first easing in like the first step into dark waters before you both succumb to diving under. A fierce grip slips to the nape of your neck, endlessly dragging you closer

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Thank you for reading and thank you anon for your ask 💜 I'm gonna be better at getting back to the others (life was being life lol) and up next I have some comfort fics and x marine reader! And perhaps a little filth 👌🏻

Masterlist

[meanbossart]

LORE ASK COMPILATION: "Still not banging Halsin, Squid Games, Sun King, Failing at love quizzes, Bottoms, Tops, and Cats" Edition

He didn't, Halsin wasnt around for act 3, too busy healing land and saving ghost children or something!

THANK YOU/I'M SORRY, I'm surprised there isn't more Bhaalist Dark Urge/Spawn Astarion stuff out there. Don't get me wrong, I love a good evil power couple, but who can resist the good ol'heartbreak of a vicious unending cycle brought on by your own senselessness!

That wasn't something I was interested in previously just because acquiring the slayer form isn't part of his canon, but I've been looking at enough fromsoft games' monster designs that I might be a little inspired to try LOL

Also I am just a fan of the canon design and never before thought it needed altering. But I'll let it cook ;)

God damn it.

DU drow was VERY antagonizing towards the emperor since the moment he dropped the facade, which made the attempt ESPECIALLY hilarious - that poor guy is so, so lonely.

I don't recall the exact wording in-game, but once the emperor took his shiny squid pecs out and shot his shot, DU drow recoiled and called him disgusting. After having the visions of Stelmane forced upon him to make whatever baffling point the emperor was trying to make, DU drow smugly asserted that he had finally let the mask slip and their very terrible date ended with the Emperor enforcing their reluctant need for one another, for the time being.

In-prose, that would honestly be pretty much it. DU drow would have reacted with absolute revulsion at the prospect of being hit on by a mindflayer, and taken the Emperor's (miscalculated) moment of lashed-out vulnerability as a win - as proof that he was exactly as duplicitous as he always assumed the Emperor to be.

I can assure everyone that I am as entertained by the thought as the rest of you and it is in the cards for future art, I just have... So many prompts... I have at least 5 different mini-comics I want to make, BESIDES singular pieces, BESIDES the fanfic... I wish I had more time and more hands.

But DU drow's unlikely semi-success as a parental figure is hilarious to me. I think about it constantly.

I haven't entertained that thought much because its antithetical to DU drow's character. Whether "good" or evil, he wouldn't allow Astarion to ascend because of his fear of no longer being needed and his reluctance to watch his partner be consumed by out-sourced power and changed into something he despises. Realistically, in a world where Astarion is allowed to ascend they could only break up and inevitably kill each other soon after.

That said, I am fascinated by the Sun King and the implications that path has for his character. So far that is an arc that I can only really see Astarion taking on alone, though - that might change in the future, might not. We'll see!

IF I CAN MAKE IT NOT ENTIRELY MISERABLE, I JUST MIGHT.

He got 2 out of 3 questions wrong - which is to say he was way too honest and Astarion didn't like that.

Except for the "when is he the happiest" question, which he correctly answered with "when he's neck deep in gore".

This is not even a lore-embelishment, this is actually how that scene went for me and I cackled about it for ages.

He would love to get tied up for old-times' sake. I doubt he knows much about fancy knots but Astarion might (though I might be in a minority that doubts his enforced "sex life" was actually that interesting at all.)

Thank you so much!

You are mostly correct. Bhaalist drow, both pre and post tadpole would be much more keen on the idea of having people around who fulfill their every desire - EXCEPT for killing. That is a joy they take on for themselves.

"Canon" DU drow values his independence a lot, on the other hand. He's neutral on the idea of slavery (what a sentence) and wouldn't be opposed to temporary servicing, but the idea of having someone around waiting for orders doesn't attract him at all, or at least would get on his nerves quick. He much preffers to do things himself and makes sure that other people see how much he does not need assistance.

The answer is yes, basically LOL.

DU drow both adores and despises Sceleritas presence and he doesn't know why. It very much reflects the type of relationship they used to have prior to DU drow's memory loss, and it's one of those things that he has conflicting feelings about but not any context for them.

I sadly doubt that the boys would become parents during Shadowheart's lifetime (it's for the best, they have a lot of work to do before I would trust them not to drop a baby), but honestly she strikes me as really liking kids as long as she doesn't have to, well, have them LOL.

And thank you so much for enjoying them and humoring me!

I think it is less about bottoming-topping and more about enjoying a more submissive role during sex, as well as in other scenarios. He believes that giving control away is, in a way, a show of devotion that goes both ways - his own for the willingness to do so, and his partner's for not taking advantage of it despite his wanting them to do so.

With one-night-stands (which he occasionally had pre-tadpole) he would still bottom without any of the submissiveness. This is because he didn't have the capacity to understand what it was about bottoming that attracted him, and led him to feeling constantly unfulfilled and frustrated (he just isn't build for no-strings-attatched type of arrangements, lol.)

This means that he really could operate either way depending on the partner as long as he got that fix of docility, whether it be from the bottom or top.

I think of Astarion as being similarly versatile but leaning more in the opposite direction when it comes to power-dynamics - though it being less about dominance itself and more about being pampered and catered to - and, of course, getting to do what he wants. Though he's willing to try most things a partner is particularly enthusiastic for just to see how he feels about it.

That said with DU drow he does prefer to top for a plethora of reasons.

I didn't have this piece of lore thought-up at the time, but I should have made them look like the lady he lost his virginity to.

Him and Astarion were gobbling those things up until the emperor reveal, then they both quit it cold-turkey after DU drow stomped the astral-tadpole dead (and back then you didn't have to roll any dice to do it, because otherwise we would have weird veiny DU drow to deal with for sure because he would NOT have suceeded that save.)

DU drow's feelings towards animals is a constant in every iteration of his character. They are organic little pieces of art wandering about the world that act upon their own laws and regulations, ones which humanoids aren't privy to - except for when they intrude into that world through magic and try to understand it through their overly-complicated systems and concepts. If a cat made the temple it's home, it can stay.

[pirateshelly]

There really is a sort of tragic irony to the fact that Armand's one moral line in the sand that he's managed to maintain despite centuries of adapting and having his identity shaped and reshaped by others (his refusal to turn anyone else into a vampire) is just kind of never taken seriously by those around him. Louis dismisses it as him being contrary and difficult and Daniel reacts with the sort of mocking disbelief you often see in people if they've been told someone doesn't want children or has never had sex; like it's more of a slightly absurd failing than a choice worth respecting.

Because honestly, saying 'I may literally depend on taking other people's lives to survive and I can't change what I am, but the one thing I will never do is make more of us or condemn anyone else to this" is a completely reasonable stance to take! It's a more practical way of attempting to be a vampire in a way that minimizes harm than trying to just not eat people, which is inevitably going to fail. Which is obviously not to say that this makes Armand, like, a good moral person lol (none of these characters are, and they'd be less interesting if they were, but it's still more interesting to me to recognize the ways they struggle with that than to act like the story exists in some sort of amoral void where nothing matters because everyone's a literal monster).

Like. That's his one single personal boundary, the one tiny thread of humanity he'd managed to keep for himself and has control over. And obviously I'm not defending his choice to betray Louis and Claudia and Madeleine. But you can still understand, as a viewer, how (from his understandably very warped and defensive way of interacting with the world) Louis and Claudia choosing to turn Madeleine anyway and essentially making him complicit was the one big thing that pushed him over the line to thinking "this relationship is not something I can trust enough to be worth risking my standing with the coven I've been a part of for centuries for"

[prettyboykatsuki]

give yourself up, my treat | h. sakura

✮ tags ; afab + fem!reader (referred to as girlfriend, descriptions of makeup and nails), implied to be shorter than sakura, omorashi, piss!!!! / wetting, humiliation, lots of crying / embarrassment, praise kink, somewhat public, femdom, depictions of subspace, d/s dynamics, like... soft loving sex as aftercare but this is honestly pure kink lol sorry, 18+

✮ wc ; 4.6k (i dont want to talk about it man)

✮ a/n ; this is piss kink. like. full stop. full stop omorashi. im warning you now that this is piss kink to the highest extent. srry sakura . finally let him top and it was after making him piss himself. rip

also!! while sakura is describing how shameful he feels he is doing this all very willingly. they have a safeword but sakura does not feel any need to use it.

✮ synopsis ; sakura lets you push his limits any way you please.

Sakura listens to everything you say. Like some kind of moron.  

Can’t help himself really, as much as it irritates him to admit. 

That’s always just been his instinct. Any time he finds himself in unfamiliar waters, he leans into that as much as possible. He’s survived a long time by trusting his intuition and a longstanding distrust of other people. It speaks a lot to someone's character usually if Sakura is even mildly inclined to trust them.  

He isn’t sure if it’s his intuition that drives him to follow your order without question, but it’s a strong enough pull he finds he can’t help himself even when he so, so badly wants to resist it.  

It’s not Sakura’s fault. It’s not really yours either.  That’s just how you’ve always been. How its always been. 

(Once, well before you and Sakura were a thing - Nirei had made an observation about you. Called you disarming. Suo laughed and agreed before adding that it felt a little misleading to describe you that way even if it was true. 

 You had just moved into the area after a disciplinary case in your hometown. You’d beat up another student who was bullying your friend, got expelled and moved out on your own after the fact. Cut ties with your family and everything.  

Despite the general air of mystery around you, there was  something about you that Sakura felt pulled him in. For some reason, you never triggered his fight or flight even when it was way easier to do it. For some reason you made him comfortable, always knowing his limits and rarely teasing him even for laughs.  

An undeniable magnetism to you appealed to him a lot more than it repulsed him. ) 

Over the years, Sakura has mulled a lot over your relationship. How you approached him at fifteen with a cool, carefree attitude that left him uselessly infatuated against his will. How you took your time in getting to know him for years. Later, how you confessed. Roped him into the relationship so seamlessly that by the time things happened for real, Sakura felt totally unnerved by how inevitable—how deliberate you were about it right from the start. Something that occurred to him too late.  

You’ve always been good at placating his many troubles too, even when you’re the cause of them. His lingering paranoia, his serious attitude, his inability to deal with compliments. You handle all of it with such grace it’s like those parts of him don’t even exist. Maybe it’s because you went through something similar to him, but you understand all of it well - though you dealt with it in the opposite way he does.  

Your carefree acceptance has proved to have a good influence on him. He’s less anxious and more relaxed around you. He always feels like listening to you, and always does - and after dating for four years, he’s rarely mad about it.  

Sakura always listens to everything you say because some part of him is conditioned too. His body does it instinctively, placing more trust in your words than he does in even himself. You’ve built that in him. 

As troublesome as you can be, you’ve yet to lead him astray.

Embarrassing as it is, a long relationship has instilled a sense of obedience  to you and his… love for you that runs deeper even than his intuition.  

That’s why, when you tell Sakura to— 

“Drink,”  

—he does it without hesitation.  

He drinks another cup of tea in one gulp before wiping the corner of his lip as you smile at him very briefly.  

He no longer feels a clear sense of how much time has passed, despite the fact he’s currently very sober.  

Cramped against the wall, Sakura’s head spins as you lean your weight against his other side and chat with Umemiya over drinks. An airy smile on your lips and gentle look in your eye. Damn you.  

His chest heaves as the thick, warm air enters his lungs and stifles his already difficult breathing further. Dim lights overhead cast shadow underneath the table and only barely illuminate the topside well enough to see the remnants of a long night. Empty glasses, canisters of beer and shochu as well as a variety of small plates cleared of everything apart from stray crumbs littering its surface.  

Around him, his loved ones part into small groups and chat amongst each other. Sakura has no idea what the topic of conversation is anymore. He hasn’t heard anything other than the sound of your voice in his head for an hour and hasn’t spoken up for the last thirty minutes. When someone tries to call him into conversation, he mumbles something before you speak for him and no one bats an eye at this for which Sakura’s fucking grateful.  

It’s so hard to think of anything when his bladder feels this painfully full.  

His head is filled with white noise, red flush crawling even further along his neck until it dusts along his nose - up to the ends of his ears. Under the table, your fingers drift subtly to his inner thigh and push inward. Sakura winces, biting back a pathetic little whimper and glaring at you weakly from the corner of his eyes.  

This is torture.  

You aimlessly draw something in his thigh with your fingers before smiling gently as you nudge another cup of lukewarm tea his way. Leaning in while your conversation partners are all distracted by ordering something else, you whisper into his ear. The light warmth of your breath makes him shake, painful pressure in his abdomen steadily increases as the liquid starts to travel down his throat. Your hand is careful as it slides underneath his black t-shirt and lightly grazes his skin. It’s dark enough to not be obvious. The dull ends of your manicured nails scratch lightly at the soft, lower swell of his belly before the pads of your fingers push hard into his core.  

His body gives into the pressure, eyes widening with fear at the sudden sensation. He barely stifles a gasp before shooting you another mean look you easily ignore.  

“Haruka,” You hand him his cup again, filled to the very brim with liquid. “Drink some more tea,”  

He grits his teeth. 

“Fucksake. I can’t—I can’t.”  

You raise an eyebrow as your hand smooth down his thighs. Your lips quirk up into a smile so smug it nearly rocks him out of his anger.  

“Is that right?”  

A test. He’s always welcome to give up. He knows that. He knows that if he does you won’t hold it against him either. You want him to do it because he wanted too, always. He hates that about you.  

Sakura grinds his teeth and takes a hold of the ceramic tea cup, knocking the lukewarm tea back in one go. Your expression morphs into something pleased and endeared from the corner of his eyes and his heart starts to flutter. He isn’t sure if he’s thankful or not for all the people around, for the environment.  

It gives you free reign to lean even further into him and whisper the words he’s been desperately aching to hear all evening.  

“Good boy,” You hum, careful and deliberate. A innocent kiss gets placed on his cheek, the lipgloss dampening his skin. “You’re being so, so strong.”  

The words him melt him unwittingly. From the top of his head to the tips of his toes, the rush of affection threads through his nerves and unwinds his sense of danger further. Enough that he might slip completely. He has to hold it until the clock hits midnight. Just until then. You’ll take a cab home and Sakura will relieve himself finally, finally. It’s seventeen more minutes until he can go home and empty his bladder. He can’t screw up now.  

This is the first time you’ve made Sakura hold in public. You’ve always been considerate enough to do it at home where the safety net of your mutual understanding and familiar bathroom are there even if he fails to keep it in. Even if he pissed himself in your living room or in your bedroom - it can be dry cleaned or tossed. Most of all there’s no one to explain it too.  

In public it’s different. He could pretend that he’s  drunk and while it wouldn’t be less fucking embarrassing  - at least it’s understandable. Sakura is sure that’s part of the reason you chose a place like this do to attempt such a public play. To give him the out, just in case.  

But regardless, the shame and humiliation of not being able to hold it in front of everyone he knows is a threat. It’s just so goddamn embarrassing. So horrible and awful. The anxiety makes his stomach churn but he can’t focus on a damn thing else.  

He has to go. He has too.  

He always whines about how much he hates this but you both know he doesn’t entirely mean it. It’s not that he likes this miserable sensation, as much as he likes how you get off on it. How sadistic it turns his unusually kind and light-hearted girlfriend.  

 You’ve always relished in Sakura’s shame like the freak you are. Pure pleasure on your face and absolute adoration as you watched Sakura break apart slowly and guide him through it with hushed whispers. Watching  the light color of his jeans or joggers stain dark from wetness or watch him be jostle around enough to almost piss but not enough to give him actual relief.  Teasing him until he trickles and makes his own boxers damp enough to be uncomfortable—to be cognizant  of the fact he’s pissed himself helplessly while not being able to take care of it on his own. Not without your explicit permission. 

You’ve done all sorts of play together. Usually, you have and indoor date and movie night where Sakura knocks back a few liters over of water over long few hours and gets increasingly desperate. And you get him hard during that, always sure to tease him until he’s just on the edge of wetting himself.  

You always shower together afterwards. Yet, you don’t hesitate to touch Sakura’s soft, piss soaked cock with reverence either way. Quick to praise him, whether or not he’s failed or succeeded in holding it. Despite how shameful the whole thing is and how much he protested it at the start  - some part of him deep, deep down can admit he sort of likes it. Or at least, he likes the pleasure he gets from you when you take the reigns.  

It feels good, though he really resents even kind of admitting that. The relief from holding and holding and holding and then finally getting to let go is just as good every time. Pissing himself always feels good in the moment.  

And you’re always so aroused by him after. He likes that way more than everything else being frank. Likes the way you get wet over his humiliation. Likes how softly you stroke and lick his cock when he’s all cleaned up, eyes lidded and full of pure love as he gets to cum too  - another reward for holding in so well. He loves the warm whispers of good boy against his neck and shoulders when you finally sink down on his length and the way you feel when he holds you in his lap and buries his face into your shoulder.  

All of that feels so much better when he does what he’s told and he likes listening to you. So even though it’s usually against his best interest in conditions like these - he bites his tongue and continues to drink until he feels like he’s sating your appetite, silently ignoring the ballooning in his bladder only getting worse with each pass of breath.  

And he drinks, and drinks, and drinks until the clock hits midnight.  

You’re deliberately brutal in the last seventeen minutes. In that time, you make Sakura down at least another half liter of liquid and continue to tease him all the way until the izakaya closes. He’s antsy by the time the night ends. His friends slowly disperse outside and go home in different directions until it’s just the two of you waiting for a taxi to come pick you up.  

Sakura is counting the fucking seconds.  

He needs to go,  but he doesn’t want to piss himself in the taxi. His legs are crossed, shifting his weight anxiously as you hold his hand and smile plainly like nothing in the world is going on. 

Another two minutes until the cab arrives, another twelve to go home. You hum to yourself as you reach your hand up and caress the back of his neck,  palm brushing the trimmed hair and sliding slowly over his rapid pulse and flush skin. With no one around, you don’t bother hiding your intentions. You slide your hand just into the waistband of his black jeans, just above his soft cock.  

His brows raise high as your eyes lock.  

And then you push at that angle - push hard enough he feels a slight trickle. Not enough to stain his light-wash jeans, but enough that the fabric of his underwear is noticeably damp. Sweat forms at his temple from a mix of stress and shame - eyes screwed closed as he curses. He’s afraid to look at you but does anyway.  

You’re smiling just as warmly as he thought you’d be. His voice cracks under the weight.  

He thinks this is the hardest it’s ever been. The pressure is so much stronger when there’s stakes and Sakura is mildly horrified. And he has to go so bad, so bad he can’t think of anything else.  

“Fucking—,” He crumbles, feeling shameful and red faced and lightheaded as he admits this to you with trembling lips and terrified eyes. “Dunno if I can make it home, I need to - “  

You stand in front of him and push up slightly to kiss him. It’s a nice distraction. Your soft, sweet lips salve his nerves just a touch. You gaze up at him lovingly.  

“It’s okay baby, promise. Home soon.”  

The words of protest die on his lips. Despite being taller than you, Sakura finds himself feeling so incredibly small. So incredibly helpless and so, so dependent on you in that moment he hardly knows what to do with himself. It usually takes him longer to get like this. You’re the only that can bat for him if he really does wet himself. He’s doing everything you say, being obedient, chasing after the familiar high of the aftermath and it’s sinking him so deep into that headspace. He feels suspended in air.  

He grips your hands a little tighter and you smile at him. His brows furrow.  

“Wanna hold me a little baby? On the way home.”  

He nods feeling as tender as ever and you nod back, kissing his temple.  

“Mm. Good boy. It’s okay.”  

He hides a whimper into your hair as he hugs you from behind, a light laugh leaving your lips when he does. Two minutes feels like two hours.  

The taxi pulls up not long after. You open the doors for him and talk to the driver, giving him your address. Something plays on the radio that gets turned up to give you and Sakura some room as the driver makes way. It’s a short, short drive over to your apartment. Just seven minutes.  

As soon as the driver steps on the gas, Sakura turns his gaze on you pleadingly. And you smile at him, shifting to lay a little against his chest. He buries his face against your shoulder in measured breaths as your other hand comes up to play with his hair.  

“You’re extra whiny today,” You whisper without any malice. A doting edge to your words. “Can’t help it can you? We’re almost home, baby.”  

Sakura bites back another whimper, mustering as much sense into his speech as he can though he hardly wants to talk. Hardly wants to think, either.  

“So close, Haruka. Just a little more and then you can go.” You nudge him with your nose “Such a good boy.”  

“So full,” The words come out hot, on a heavy breath as his hand grips your waist tighter. “Can’t—no more,”  

“Shh,” You soothe. The shared affection between you looks like normal PDA through the reflection in the drivers mirror and it makes him feel even more self-conscious. “Three more minutes, Haru. A minute or two to walk in. Two minutes in the elevator, and another two to get the door unlocked. Nine minutes. You’ve held it for so long. I know you can hold it in a little longer.”  

He grits his teeth and closes his eyes. “Tell me I’m good.”  

“So good baby.” You nuzzle against the crown of his head. “So, so good.”  

The next few minutes feel like a complete blur.  

One more light until the driver pulls into the parking lot of your complex, politely wishing you goodnight before pulling away. Sakura nearly has to lean on you as you walk into the empty elevator and take the trip upstairs. His grip on your hand is tight as you lead him through the corridor, grips even tighter as you fish your keys out from your purse and unlock the door.  

The sound of the lock undoing makes Sakura feel so relieved. You usher him in carefully, his thighs tight and knees nearly buckling from the pressure of his bladder. He’s so full it’s painful, so full it aches and it’s so much he can’t think about anything except that and how much he wants to be free from it. He's delirious and sweaty. He just needs to go so badly.

He tries to rush to the bathroom but jostling around while he walks doesn't work out well.

A looming sense of panic sets in immediately.. He knows what's coming instinctively - the uncontrollable relaxation on his muscles when his body has reached his limit. He looks up at you pleadingly, though he’s not sure what he’s even asking you for.

He can’t think.  Barely moving as something starts to unfold inside of him, crashing into him all at once.

It’s obvious that he’d start to feel the urge to piss when he's comfortable at hom, finally in his own space but— 

He shakes his head, looking at you with blown out eyes.

“I can’t,” He hiccups as he shuffles closer and closer to the living room, teary at his lashline Trying his best to get to the bathroom and failing. “Can’t make it to the—fuck, please, I can’t. It’s.—It’s gonna, I’m gonna  -“  

Your eyes widen in understanding as you crouch just at the entrance alongside him, petting his back.  

“Oh sweetheart,” Your voice is the softest, sweetest sound he’s heard all night. “Poor thing. Shh, it’s okay baby. Let go. It’s alright, I promise. You did so good.”  

Something in him...breaks. Shatters.

His eyes go wide before they blur with tears and piss leaks from between his legs unwittingly. 

Sakura is reduced down to sobbing. His whole body shudders so hard, he’s knees buckling under the weight as the pressure finally stops. He can’t help but listen, even though he’s so, so ashamed of himself.  

Fuck. Fuck, it feels so good.  

Sakura finally, finally lets go. He crumbles under his own weight, shrinking down to his knees as he feels it soak through the layers in a hot rush between his legs. His clothes dampen and drench as he lets out long breaths. You card your fingers through his hair as he sobs through the endless stream. It feels like it’s never going to stop. He can’t open his eyes to look but he can feel the puddle forming underneath him, how it soaks into his jeans and shoes and makes them wet. How ashamed and humiliated he feels being completely unable to stop himself from wetting himself. It flows and flows and flows, testament to just how much he had to drink.  

The entirety of his pant leg is soaked with his own piss and mess. Embarrassment makes him curl up as he’s unable to stop once he starts. It goes on for so long. But it feels so good to let it out. The sheer sense of relief is more of what’s making him sob than anything else.  

Piss trickles down his legs as he heaves through deep breaths and short sobs. He feels your hands cup his face as you bend in a squat, unconcerned with the way it splashes against your shoes or tights. When he finally gets his vision back as you swipe his tears away, you’re looking at him with such reverence he wants to cry all over again.  

“You did so good baby,” You praise, warming him. You kiss him on the lips first before brushing against the crown of his head. “So good. You’re so perfect. Let’s get you cleaned up, hm? Give you you your reward.” 

He sniffles as he stares at you. “You’re such a damn pervert.”  

You laugh a little. “Mm, that’s true. Sorry, baby.”  

__  

Clean-up is always less of a hassle then he expects it to be.  

Maybe because you have a routine for it now, but it doesn’t take very long at all. You do most of the heavy lifting during it which only worsens the feeling helplessness Sakura has been experiencing for the last few hours. He doesn’t make any effort to get away or out from that headspace, though it dies down with time. The promise of a reward has been the only thing keeping him level for hours now and he’d be damned to let it all go to waste after he worked so hard.  

After a long, warm shower and change of clothes  - Sakura finally gets what he wants more than anything.  

Affection and attention.  

In the safety of your bedroom, Sakura feels particularly floaty as he holds you in your lap. Lazy and worn out, he nuzzles himself against your neck as he feels your naked torso squish against his. He’s too embarrassed to tell you verbally like this that he loves you and hopes the nuzzling does the job for him. 

Your nails feel good on his scalp as you card them again through his wet hair. Your skin smells nice too, and you’re soft and warm. The mellow thump of your heartbeat soothes him as you shower him in endless praise. It’s usually impossible for you to do this. Only when he’s bone tired like this do you get the chance.  

Too embarrassing to let you do it unless he’s worked hard for it like he did today.  

Sakura feels his length slide against your pussy and lets out a soft noise. You’re always so wet during this kind of play. It makes him feel wanted in a way he finds cringeworthy and doesn’t dare voice. Still, he doesn’t mind the feeling - aimlessly sliding his hips up and against your slick folds with a huff.  

You do him the favor of moving. Copying the gesture by sliding yourself up and against his cock without penetration. His fingers tighten on your hips, cock painfully sensitive as he whimpers. Pre-cum leaks from his tip, weepy and spent and red as he humps against you even harder - lost in the sensation.  

“Wanna cum like this Haruka? Don’t need to ask permission.”  

“Nghh.”  

He nods wordlessly as you grind yourself down harder onto him. His tip passes over your clit enough times to make you sigh pleasantly, and that sound drives him over the edge. Thick ropes of white cum spills against your soft pussy as Sakura moans and shudders  violently. Despite how close you are, he can’t help but feel like it’s not close enough.  

Maybe you sense it, because you do him the favor of sliding yourself onto his half hard cock without so much as another word. It’s still not enough for him, but it sates him better than before at least. He wraps his arms around you hard and squeezes tight. Just for a little while.  

He scowls a little as he looks up at you, sobering up enough to form a sentence after spending some time hugging you. “Have you cum yet?”  

“Don’t worry about it, baby.”  

“Shut up,” He replies with no bite and a scowl. Another flush crawls across his face. “I can make you feel good too.”  

You raise your eyebrow. 

“Sounds like you’re declaring war not trying to give me an orgasm. I’m glad I made you feel good though,” You add cheekily. He flusters immediately, instinctively getting aggressive but not wanting to shove you off of him even as you break out into a fit of laughter.  

“Fuck off. I d-don’t feel good doing that weird shit with you. I only do it because - “ 

You interject. “Because you love me? That’s a better reason to you? How sweet Haru.”  

He frowns deeply.  

“Be quiet, you—don’t put words in my mouth, damn it.”  

“Pfft, okay. I’m sorry. I hope I’m not pushing you too much.”  

He huffs a little, pouting as he goes back to pressing his cheek to your skin. His voice is a touch softer than it was before.  

“I don’t do things for bullshit reasons. Stupid.”  

“I’m glad, then. Even so, you had a tough time today hm? So I’ll let you fuck me as much as you like. Just do whatever you feel like.”  

“I wanna…return to the favor or whatever.” He says after thinking on it. “Just… wanna make you feel good too. Like….” His voice goes small “…You make me feel. Or whatever.”  

You smile at him. He can feel it, not see it. He’s avoiding looking at your face since he’s sure you’re all goofy and loveydovey.  

“The floor is all yours. No rush though okay? I like spoiling you and we’ve got all night.”  

Sakura scowls, casting his gaze down at the bedroom floor. “….I love you.”  

You smile and press another kiss to his head. He feels so content he wants to die. Your reply comes easily anyway.  

“I love you too, Haruka.”  

[lilhoeforevanpeters]

Tate Langdon Headcannons <3

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<3 Life dating Tate <3

<3 Tate x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Tate, murder, suicide, p in v, fingering, oral (both m and f), grinding, humping, I think that’s it

<3 I lost the request, but someone did request this, hopefully they see it lol. Thanks for the request, it's appreciated!! I might make a post about who I write for so people can send requests, but I'm not sure yet. Love you!!

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SFW

Listening to old rock (i.e Nirvana ofc)

Borrowing his sweaters

Cuddling in bed

100% the little spoon, he wouldn't like being the big spoon but will do it if you're sad (or simply ask)

He's kind of a creep, so he'll stare at you all the time. silently.

Anything you do, he's watching admiringly

He thinks your perfect in every single aspect

Movie nights on Fridays

He totally seems like he'd enjoy horror and true crime

Misses you when you leave Murder House for anything

Would be scared you're going to leave him constantly

Helps you through anxiety attacks, depression episodes, mental health struggles

Listening intently whenever you vent to him

Does anything to protect you

He would try to hide his past from you for a while until inevitably find out

You don't argue often, but when you do it's usually not over serious things. An exception being when you find out what he did before (school shooting, Vivien, murder, etc.) ... You can decide if you want to forgive him or not

Reading with him, both of you silent yet still resting against each other

Introducing him to social media and him begging you to follow fan pages of bands he likes

You die in Murder house, which shouldn't come as a surprise, since everybody dies in that damn house. Maybe you commit suicide for him or something, but another ghost or entity killing you is a high possibility as well

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NSFW

Riding his thigh while he softly encourages you, whispering in your ear as you do so

I get switch vibes from him, but heavily leaning towards being more submissive, and when he would be dominant, he would definitely be a soft dom. He wouldn't want to hurt you; he doesn't seem to be into that

You giving him blow/hand jobs and his hips buck up slightly>>>>

He whimpers and I will not hear ANYBODY out.

His pull-out game seems weak, and he's dead, but as we've seen before, his sperm certainly isn't- so I'd use some contraceptives babe

Missionary and cowgirl are your top two- and the one where you're like sitting on his lap

Average, maybe on the bigger side, but he isn't packing a foot long cock

He really values your pleasure, and wants to make you cum first

Your back would be pressed against his chest and you're sitting on his lap while he slowly pumps his fingers in and out of you

He seems like the kind of guy who does not give a fuck about periods

He likes when you're sitting on a chair or the side of your bed and he's kneeling on the ground eating you out

As he said before, gay porn is hot, so you two watch porn together, usually ending up with you and him acting out what you just viewed

He'd be gentle and respectful the entire time

Enjoys watching you masturbate when you don't know he's there, especially when you grind against a pillow. His heart races every time you whisper out his name when you think he isn't there

Shower sex, car sex (when he can leave the house), beach sex (on Halloween), any possible place that you could imagine, he's not opposed to

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[lovelyhan]

Hii!! minghao + "oh really?" / "yes, really." / "lying doesn't suit you, sweetheart." from the prompts enemies to lovers? :D

— rush hour ⟢

pairing: minghao x reader

summary: you used to be good friends with the newest dancer in your agency, but your competitiveness gets the better of you when he overtakes your spot as the top performer of the month—for three straight months.

word count: 6.7k words

tags: enemies to lovers, dancer au? unresolved sexual tension, smut

warnings: promiscuous behavior in public, graphic sexual content (minors dni!!)

notes: this . got really REALLY long :D like long enough to have its own header and everything LOL it probably helps that hao has been clawing his way back into my bias line these days, so the brain rot kinda just spilled out,, anyway, thank you sm for sending this in!! i hope you like it :3c

smut tags: porn with some plot ig, public sex, vaginal fingering, exhibitionism, hao is kinky as fuck, dirty talk, degradation

svt taglist: @wonderfulshinee - @misssugarlips - @yourfavoritefreakyhan - @jeanjacketjesus - @just-here-to-read-01 - @hanihans - @venusrae - @taestrwbrry - @minnie-mouser22 - @dreamhannies - @thvhannie - @kkooongie - @gae-uls - @lenireads - @gaebestie - @ryusha-rose - @enhacolor - @ilyvern - @woo8hao - @spk93 - @tommolex

minghao taglist: @zeenanigans - @renjunphile - @pluviophile-xxx

Saying that you hate Xu Minghao is a bit of an overstatement. 

After all, you were the one assigned to show him the ropes when he was accepted into the agency. While you’re no professional mentor, you like to think he was able to rely on you during those first few weeks. He’s been in Seoul for a better part of two years, and although his Korean can already pass as a native’s, you knew he still struggled every now and again. It’s a good thing that verbal communication isn’t direly needed in your line of work.

Minghao was an excellent dancer—one of the best you’ve seen with your own eyes. You once took pride in having a budding prodigy like him as an understudy. Whatever steps or routines you’d ask him to try out and make his own, not only will he deliver, but he’ll blow your expectations out of the water while he’s at it, too. 

It doesn’t help that he knows his own body well enough to channel each movement with passion that makes him look alluring to everyone who dares to watch any of his performances. Minghao isn’t vain or conceited or anything like that, but he’s completely aware of how attractive he is, and that’s a trait that’s further amplified by his dancing. 

You suppose the funniest part about this senior-junior relationship you have with him is how he always asks for your input about his routines. Even if Minghao has long proved that he doesn’t even need a pseudo-mentor like you, he still takes the time to hear out whatever you have to say—eager eyes always shining every time you indulge him with an answer.

Another thing that inevitably brought the two of you closer is the fact that you both take the same train and get off at the same station. Your apartment is in a different neighborhood from his, but you find comfort in the newfound company you’ve been given since Minghao’s arrival. Though he doesn’t talk much outside discussions about work and other dance-related topics, having someone familiar to sit right next to you on the train is more than enough to quell the day’s fatigue.

Your other colleagues sometimes voice out their envious comments jokingly—saying that you’re extremely lucky to have such a hot guy as constant company. Almost always, you respond with a vigorous shake of your head before insisting that things between you and Minghao aren’t at all like that. Besides, you know better than to nurse a romantic relationship between your colleagues. You wouldn’t even let yourself have a crush on any of them. 

What they don’t know, however, is that on very rare occasions when your body feels just a little too heated, and your sheets a few threads too thick, it’s Minghao that flits into your mind as your hesitant fingers reach between your thighs. 

You touch yourself to the thought of him taking you in one of the dance studios. Specifically, in front of the full-stretch mirrors as he fucks you from behind. You imagine him whispering how good you are for him, how you’re taking his cock so, so well. 

Subverting the mere image of the kind man who constantly seeks your validation for his performance has you creaming on your own fingers within minutes, and if you weren’t such a terrible person, you would’ve felt bad for thinking about him in such an obscene light. 

Then again, what Minghao doesn’t know won’t kill him.

His first month in the agency comes and goes like the changing seasons. Next thing you know, it’s time for monthly evaluations again. 

While others would usually dread these assessments, you looked forward to them. You know that they’re less a measure of talent, and more a measure of hard work. Sure, talent could be one of the main driving factors of getting a high score, but you know better than anyone else that talent is nothing if you don’t work hard enough to cultivate it. 

That’s the kind of mindset that always landed you in the top of the rankings for every monthly evaluation.

And it’s the same mindset that puts you immediately beneath Minghao. 

The agency is always prompt with the release of the results. They’d post the typewritten scores next to the dancers’ names in the bulletin board at the ground floor cafeteria for everyone to see two days after the monthly evaluation.

It was a bit of a challenge to squeeze past the other dancers to get a good look at this month’s results—the crowd being more chatty than usual. Your closer friends insisted that you’d be number one as usual, and that you didn’t have to check at all. 

Part of you wants to believe them, but the unsettling feeling that pools in the pit of your stomach doesn’t let you become complacent. It doesn’t help that everyone around you seems like they’re sneaking glances your way—only to look away when you try to catch their gaze. 

When you finally make it to the front of the board, you notice that Minghao is already there—already dressed to kill for today’s sets and routines. His black hair is still damp like he just got out of the shower and rushed straight to work, eyes glued to the bulletin board. You would’ve let your gaze linger a bit longer on his gorgeous face, had it not been for the surprise that awaits you on that single sheet of paper plastered right in front of you.

1. Xu Minghao — 100 points

Your vision tunnels in, white noise ringing in your ears. 

You could vaguely make out the characters of your name just below Minghao’s, and just a few points from a perfect score. But you didn’t care about that. All you could focus on was the fact that you’ve been kicked out of a spot that’s been yours for as long as you can remember. 

No wonder the others were buzzing amongst themselves, flashing you brief looks before whispering their thoughts on the matter to the nearest willing ear. Not a single soul has ever garnered a hundred fucking points from monthly evaluations. The evaluators cut no corners when it came to assessing their dancers’ level of skill and technique, and seeing how they deigned to give Minghao, a complete newbie, a perfect goddamned score—

“Congratulations, bro!” 

“Minghao, you’re a fucking beast! How long did you even practice?”

“That’s so cool. No one’s ever gotten a perfect hundred before.”

“You’ve gotta tell us the secret, please!”

Like a bunch of bees, the collective of dancers start to crowd Minghao—giving him congratulatory gestures and greetings alike. Your understudy simply gazes at them as if in a daze, but ever-so slowly, a smile cracks through his typically stoic demeanor. 

“Uh, thank you…?”

He’s whisked away to the cafeteria before you can blink, and you can only watch in shocked desolation as they all usher themselves away from the board.

Away from you. 

You don’t miss the way Minghao tries to catch your gaze in the midst of it all, the smile he showcased for everyone to see falling the moment he realized you’re still rooted in place. Yet he doesn’t try to break free from the crowd, nor does he attempt to call your name out loud. 

Not that you have any plans on answering if he did.

It’s only after today’s session has concluded that Minghao manages to pull you to the side for a conversation. You’re already halfway out of the building when he catches you, and you can tell that the sheer euphoria of knowing you came out on top is still humming in his veins. 

It pisses you off.

“Thank you,” he says simply. 

“For what?” You try not to sound too gruff, but the pensiveness in your voice comes out anyway. “Letting you take my spot?”

Minghao’s grin dips into a grimace—mirroring his expression from earlier. “What? I meant to say thank you for showing me the ropes. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have—hey!”

You’re probably being immature. No, you’re definitely being immature. Instead of accepting Minghao’s gratitude like a normal fucking person, you continue brisk-walking to the building’s entrance without letting him finish. Of course, he chases after you, asking if he did anything wrong or if you’re simply in a bad mood or both. 

You don’t answer him even when he continues pestering you on the way to the train station, and he doesn’t stop despite the lack of responses from your end. It’s beginning to get on your nerves, too, because he was never this goddamn pushy during all those times you went home together. What’s stopping him from being the quiet companion he’s always been?

“Can you just shut the fuck up, Hao?” you end up snapping at him when you finally get off at your shared station—earning yourself a bunch of questioning looks from nearby commuters. “You don’t have to fucking rub it in anymore than you have. I already know the results, okay?!”

“Rubbing what in?” he asks, exasperated. “I’m just asking you what’s wrong because you don’t normally act this way. Is it so bad for me to worry about my friend?”

“Friend?” you echo mirthlessly. “No fucking friend of mine takes away what belongs to me.”

This time, when you storm off, Minghao doesn’t follow you.

Fortunately, that all happened on a Friday. It takes you the entire weekend after that heated encounter at the train station to realize that maybe you went a little overboard with what you said to Minghao. 

As you replay your conversation in your head, you’re filled with a crippling sense of embarrassment. The top spot for monthly evaluations belongs only to the best—you know this better than anyone else. The only reason that the evaluators deemed you as a second placer is because Minghao is that proficient in his dancing. 

You’re one of the people who was able to watch him closest. You’ve seen the work he put into practice firsthand. You even called him a prodigy. 

So why did you make a fool out of yourself by having a meltdown at the fact that you got beaten by someone who obviously worked harder than you did?

Hard work beats talent any day. But Minghao has both honed to perfection. 

If you’re going to reclaim your rightful spot on the top, crying about it is the last thing you should do. You’re going to have to put in double the effort to call yourself worthy.

As expected, Minghao has started to distance himself from you after that spat. You don’t blame him. As much as you wanted to apologize for your behavior that night, you wouldn’t want to remain friends with a sore loser if you were in his shoes. 

But as his second month in the agency breezes past, you notice that, not only has he distanced himself, but he’s become somewhat…hostile.

He treats everyone else the same way since he came in—stoically with a few words of affirmation here and there. You, though? It’s almost like he’s forgotten all about the time you were assigned to look after him. There’s always this cockiness lingering in his eyes that grates at your nerves more than you thought it would. He’d throw you haughty glances whenever he catches you flubbing some parts of the choreography from the corner of his eye. 

The worst part is that Minghao is more vocal now compared to when he first came in—not seeing any problem with pointing out how you’re starting to slack off during practice. 

“How are you expecting yourself to take back the crown when you’re already breathless after such a simple routine?” he gloats when he catches you lingering by the water fountain, lips curved into a smirk.

You glare at him while you take a sip from your water bottle. “Fuck you. I’ve been rehearsing all fucking day. Who wouldn’t be tired?”

“People who rank first in monthly evals,” he says boredly. “Oh, but you wouldn’t know about that, now would you? At least, not anymore.”

You’re so fucking close to tearing his face off with your own fingernails that you’re slightly grateful that Minghao gets called back onto the dancefloor to polish his group’s routine. Minghao’s constitution changes in a flash—that arrogant look he reserves for you alone making way for his usual aloof expression while he makes his way back. 

He always looks cool and amicable to others, but when no one’s looking he makes sure you catch the patronizing tilt of his lips whenever he pulls off some high level choreography with zero mistakes. As if to remind you that you’re never going to take back what he stole from you. Not in a million years. 

Okay. Maybe you do hate Xu Minghao. 

You hate him a fucking lot.

…

Minghao proves that the results he reaped from his first month in the agency are no fluke.

For three consecutive months, you’re forced to stand in front of the cafeteria’s bulletin board with his name plastered on the very top. If you hadn’t known better, you would’ve thought that the evaluators were only editing the month indicated on top of the sheet with how stagnant the results always are. 

The agency’s rising star consistently comes out on top with little to no effort, while you’re desperately clawing your way back to glory at second place. 

You didn’t know what the fucking deal was. You worked your ass off twenty four-seven. Even if you weren’t in the studio, you made sure to study all sorts of routines and choreographies so your body would remember the movements deep into your bones. 

But then you remember that even if hard work beats talent, you can never beat a man who has both at his disposal.

You’re at your wits’ end at this point—so close to giving up on the title you thought would always belong to you. Your evasive behavior did you no favors in maintaining a good reputation among your colleagues either. If you listened to their hushed conversations closely enough, you’d catch them saying how pathetic you’re being. Ostracizing yourself all because you’re insecure that your understudy became your adversary. 

The only reason you hate what they’re saying about you behind your back is because all of it is true.

Your usual group of friends doesn’t sit with you at your usual table at the cafeteria anymore, but you don’t really mind that—learning this late into your career that silence can be more beneficial than it seems. But every time you see Minghao laughing at a joke told by one of your colleagues, you can’t help but feel that familiar bite of resentment you’ve come to associate with everything he does.

If only he didn’t overtake you during his first goddamn month here. If only he wasn’t the one assigned to be your understudy. Maybe the blow to your pride wouldn’t have been this bad. Maybe you wouldn’t be licking your wounds in your loneliness. 

Maybe you wouldn’t have lost a friend you actually liked having around.

…

With an upcoming dance competition, it’s no surprise that the dancers at your agency often stay behind to polish their performances to perfection. Usually, practices would adjourn hours before the sun even sets, but these days, you find yourself exiting the building no earlier than nine PM. 

The excessive practice time has been taking a toll on you—this much you know. Your muscles have been sore for days, and no amount of painkillers and Salonpas can easily cure your affliction right away. So for tonight, you decide to take it easy—packing up once the clock hits six o’clock. The last thing you want is to accidentally pull something you shouldn’t, thus rendering your participation in the competition null and void.

But as you walk towards the train station, you realize that perhaps staying later was a smarter move after all. All around you, commuters of all ages and walks of life brush past you in their haste—the need to arrive home as soon as possible like a cloud on everybody’s heads. The closer you got to the station, the more it dawned on you.

It’s fucking rush hour.

You’ve always avoided going home during this time for two reasons. The first is the influx of commuters that’s literally and figuratively too suffocating to deal with, especially when your physical constitution isn’t in the best shape. 

The second is…because you noticed that, ever since your platonic breakup, Minghao has started leaving the studio at this hour. Later than your previous commutes home, but earlier than your new work-yourself-to-the-bone schedule. Sure, he’s still the biggest fucking prick to walk the earth whenever he feels like taunting you during practice, but he doesn’t seem interested in working overtime. 

If you’re being completely honest, you’re over the monthly evaluation results. Honest! You’ve just come to accept that nothing is ever set in stone.

Things change all the time. Humans used to believe the earth was flat. The Athenians once thought of Plato’s bullshit as the gospel truth, and—

You dared to assume you’ll be on top of the world forever.

What happened months ago was a reality check, and slowly but surely, you’re relearning the difference between ambitious and obnoxious. It’s a humbling experience that you’re honestly grateful for happening because…if it weren’t for that harsh reminder that there’ll always be someone out there who’s better than you, then you wouldn’t strive to improve at all.

You let out a quaint sigh when you settle into the train. As expected, tonight’s commuters have filled it out to complete capacity, and you wouldn’t have caught the last available space near the doors if you hadn't sprinted like a madman. Though your aching muscles practically scream in complaint, you comfort yourself with the promise of a long soak in your bathtub the moment you get home.

The smooth tone of the announcer’s voice rings from the overhead speakers, telling all passengers to step away from the doors, as the train is about to leave. Not that any of you can help it. You’re all packed like sardines in what’s usually a pretty spacious train car if you came in just an hour earlier or later. 

All of a sudden, you find yourself missing those days where you’d sit on the side where you could see the sunset breezing past the windows—listening to the stories of someone you can’t even hold a civilized conversation with anymore. But before that train of thought can progress any further, you shake your head as if the mere gesture alone can dispel your longing.

You try to press yourself back to avoid getting crushed by the automatic doors, muttering a quiet apology to the person behind you since you ended up subsequently squeezing him further into the crowd of cramped passengers. When the doors finally close, you hear him say a quick it’s okay, back at you, you’re forced to whip around in the limited space with your mouth agape.

Right behind you is Xu Minghao, looking just as distressed as you are.

He’s changed out of his usual practice clothes—having exchanged it for an oversized crewneck and sweats. His expensive headphones hang unused around his neck, and you wonder if you wouldn’t have noticed each other if only he was blasting music directly into his ears…

The urge to take back your courteous apology is strong, but you would much rather not give him any more of your energy than you already have. You’d take all his insults and badmouthing head-on in the studio, but it’s been a really long day, and you don’t have enough fire going to extend his hostility inside a crowded train in the middle of rush hour. 

“Why’re you out so early?”

You can feel gooseflesh prickle the skin of your shoulders when you feel Minghao’s breath next to your ear. A glare settles between your eyes as you jolt away from him in the limited space that affords you to do so. 

“Watch it, asshole. You’re way too close for comfort,” you hiss. “And the time I go home is none of your business.”

Minghao shrugs. “I dunno, you always stay late to practice. Is it so bad to be curious?”

“Yeah, because if it hasn’t occurred to you yet, I actually hate your guts, and I don’t appreciate you talking to me like we’re friends.”

He falls silent for a moment, and in the next moment the train lurches into motion—nearly catching you off balance. You’re quick to brace a hand against the door, but you startle again when you feel a large hand around your arm, touching you in a way that’s meant to steady. You spare Minghao another glance, but there’s less vitriol laced in your gaze and more confusion.

“Are we…” he whispers, gaze shied away from yours as he maintains a steady grip on your arm. Then, he gulps. “Are we not friends anymore?”

Again, you scowl. 

Is he being real with you right now?

“Dude, I am completely over the monthly evaluations if you think that’s the reason I’m being the way I am with you,” you hiss. “I was going to apologize after I said all that hurtful stuff in the past. But then you went ahead and started writing your very own villain arc. So, ask yourself: were you even my friend at all, Hao?”

The sound of that nickname making its way past your lips is familiar yet foreign at the same time. During these past few months, you’ve never once called Minghao anything else but asshole, dick, jerk, self-centered punk, and other variations of those words. You don’t want to admit it, but calling him by something that’s close to an endearment makes you feel like there’s cotton sticking to the roof of your mouth. 

Minghao doesn’t respond yet again, and you force yourself to face forward—leaning your head against the glass of the door so you wouldn’t have to look back at him anymore. You’re pretty sure the salaryman right next to you has been eavesdropping on your conversation this entire time, but it’s not like he has any other choice given the circumstances. 

You let the constant whir of the train engine lull you into a calmer disposition, heartbeat finally equalizing after everything you just shot at Minghao. That’s probably the most you’ve said to him all month, and to say that you’re not the least bit embarrassed about how you admitted wanting to apologize for a past transgression is a blatant lie. 

But what’s done is done. You’re just going to have to accept the fact that the man you once thought of as a good friend; the same man who’s now the main antagonist of your life and career, is standing behind you in your rush hour commute. Just twenty minutes more, and he’ll be out of your hair soon. 

Much to your delight, Minghao keeps his mouth shut until the train pulls over at the next station. The doors open with a mechanical ding, accompanied by the announcer's voice yet again. You’ve heard the monologue thousands of times, but you don’t quite hear it over the throng of passengers rushing to get off the train. 

You make way for them by scooting towards the back of the car, and Minghao does the same. But instead of shuffling away from you the moment there’s more room to move around like you thought he would, he lingers closely to your form. 

However, the amount of people that got off on this station is quickly replenished by a new horde of passengers—quickly filling in the space you thought would last for at least a few more stations. Once again, you find yourself slowly being squeezed closer to the corner of the car, but for some reason, Minghao wedges himself between you and the unassuming college boy whose wireless earphones are plugged in as he scrolls through his phone. 

When you realize what he’s trying to do, you say, “You don’t have to protect me or anything. I’m fine on my own.”

Minghao rolls his eyes. “You obviously didn’t see how you looked like you’re about to get crushed. Just thank me and we’re good.”

A biting retort is already resting on your tongue with how passive-aggressive that response of his sounds like. What the hell is his problem? It’s not like you asked for him to shield you from the other passengers. 

And yet…

“Thanks, I guess.”

You watch him visibly stiffen at your words, and you feel your heart slamming into your ribcage the moment you utter them. Did you really just thank the same man who’s been making your life at work a living hell for months?

The train starts to pick up speed again before you can answer that yourself.

You practically glare at the corner you’ve been forced into the entire trip to the next station. Minghao is right behind you, but you can’t be assed to worry about that when you’re chewing your lip out of frustration. Part of you feels relieved that you swallowed your pride and thanked him, but the part that’s been receiving the brunt of his antagonism for the past half year hisses in disagreement.

He’s an asshole. He’s a self-centered prick that uses people as stepping stones. He’s—

“...Sorry.”

You refuse to turn around. You refuse to believe that he’s actually—

“I’m sorry for being a jerk to you,” Minghao murmurs, and you feel his fingers graze your shoulder as if to emphasize the words with the sincerity of his touch. “I just… I didn’t know how to act when you lashed out at me back then. Y-You were my only friend, and I thought you’d be proud that I achieved something after working so hard for an entire month.”

You’re at a loss for words, completely stunned by the honesty in his voice. You’ve only known Minghao for a short while—been on good terms with him for even shorter—but you can always tell whenever he’s lying. 

This is not one of those times.

“A…friend of mine told me that I tend to act based on how I’m treated,” he continues. “I know that doesn’t excuse how I’ve been acting around you for so long, but… I guess when I got the hint that you hated me, the only way I could cope with that is to hate you right back. Even if I really didn’t.”

No. This isn't real. You’re dreaming. This is probably a side-effect from all those late hours you’ve spent in the studio—

You let out a soft squeak when you feel him rest his forehead against the back of your head, sighing so deeply, it makes you wonder how long he’s been thinking about apologizing properly. Minghao grips your arms again, not to help maintain your balance, but more to anchor himself onto his own. 

“I don’t care if everyone else in the studio looks at me like I’m some sort of god on the dancefloor,” he admits, voice so quiet, you could barely hear him. “The only person I’d want to look at me is you.” 

Your breath hitches, and you’re sure he hears it. 

“Can we please go back to normal again?” Minghao pleads. “I miss hearing your comments about my dances. I miss going home together.

“I miss you.”

The sincerity in his voice singes through you like a red-hot iron poker. You don’t know what to say, what to feel. All you can focus on is the stuttering breaths Minghao takes from behind you. 

If you’ve ever imagined reconciling with him, this certainly isn’t the most optimal venue. But now that he’s bared his defenses, you don’t see any benefit to keeping up your own.

“I’m…sorry and I missed you, too,” you admit somewhat sheepishly, thanking the higher deities up there that he can’t see the way your blood rushes to your cheeks. “But I don’t really know how to—”

Your sentence is cut off mid-way when the train abruptly runs into a bump on the tracks, forcing Minghao’s body against yours when he momentarily loses his footing. It’s an accident, and you wouldn’t have minded since some turbulence in this part of the city isn't rare at all. But that split second where Minghao got thrown against you from the impact made you all too cognizant of how thin the material of both your skirt and his sweatpants are.

“Sorry, sorry,” Minghao sighs before bracing an arm towards one of the walls to your left. The rustle of his clothes gives rise to the scent of his cologne wafting to your nostrils—a fresh, not-too-musky aroma that makes your head spin despite.

Just your luck, the train pitches to the side and you feel Minghao’s groin brush against your ass once again. This time, you’re not strong enough to hold down the soft whimper that tumbles out of your lips, and you don’t even feel ashamed about it.

Suddenly, you remember a time from back then where you’d spend your nights getting off to the same man who’s unknowingly sparking your arousal in the unlikeliest of places. You’ve once fucked yourself to the thought of him, so what’s the use with getting embarrassed now? As long as he doesn’t know, you should be fine.

Except Minghao isn’t deaf, and he definitely picked up on that suggestive little noise you just made.

Experimentally, he lets one of his hands dip lower and lower until his fingertips brush the hem of your skirt. That sinfully short skirt that keeps riding up your thighs every time you do a rather bold move during practice. His eyes are completely trained on you even if you’re still facing the corner, and when he feels you shiver, all the blood in his system rushes down south.

“You’re into this?” Minghao chuckles, bracing his hands on your hips before sliding his growing arousal against the ridge of your ass. “My… I didn’t think mending our friendship again would go this swimmingly. How about I take you out to dinner first?”

“Hao!” you chastise him with a poisonous look, but from the way you subtly rock your hips in time with his movements, Minghao can tell that dinner is the last thing on your mind right now.

He chuckles softly, keeping one hand steady on your hip while the other dips beneath your skirt again. When his fingers immediately press down against the gusset of your underwear, Minghao has to bite down a groan because of the wet patch that’s already accumulated at the center. 

“Not only did you ditch your shorts, but you’re already this wet? From a little grinding?” he hisses into your ear. “Needy fucking slut.”

You can’t help the way your pussy clenches at the harsh name he just called you. It’s all so strange. You never once reacted this way whenever he called you a bitch or anything similar, but you suppose when you’ve made amends with a friend you’ve secretly been wanting to fuck since you first laid your eyes on him, there’s no use keeping up any charades.

“Your hatred was all just an act, isn’t it?” he laughs, nudging your underwear to the side so he can get a feel of just how wet you areas you spread your legs to accommodate him. “Do you rile me up on purpose because you can’t deal with the fact that you actually want me?”

"You're delusional," you bite back.

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really."

Another low laugh rumbles in his chest and you swear you don't get wetter with each hum of it as he presses closer to your ear. "Lying doesn't suit you, sweetheart."

You’re about to answer him when the announcer’s voice rings from the speakers yet again, saying that the next station is approximately five minutes away. This promptly rips you out of your lustful haze as you realize you’re very much still in public, where dozens upon dozens of passengers still share the same car with the both of you. Minghao seems to pick up on your split-second realization, but doesn’t seem fazed by the idea of getting caught doing this in the presence of strangers.

“Lots of passengers are going to get off at the next station, but not a lot are going to get on like the last one,” he whispers before plunging two of his fingers into your sopping cunt without warning. 

You have to physically cover your mouth with your hand to keep yourself from gasping out loud. When you turn to look at Minghao again, eyes ablaze with disbelief, he simply flashes you an evil smile.

“If you want to come on my fingers, do it in five minutes, whore.”

The sensation of his long, slender digits curling inside you forces you to brace yourself against your tiny little corner of that train car. Your skin prickles everywhere as Minghao grinds his half-hard cock against your backside, all while he works between your pussy lips as if he’s thought about it dozens of times before. 

His digits dip in and out of your entrance like he doesn’t know what he wants to do first. Poke and prod at every inch of sensitive flesh there is or fuck you until you’re a moaning mess for everyone to see. Either way, you’re panting all while Minghao maps the expanse of your pussy with his touch alone, and every time those sinful fingers brush against your clit, you jolt in response.

“Shh,” he coos. “Don’t be too obvious, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want the entire train knowing how much of an impatient fucking slut you are—whoring all over my fingers ‘cause you can’t wait to get off the train.”

You involuntarily clench at his filthy words, begrudgingly unearthing a kink you didn’t even know you had. But at the mere mention of the other passengers, you let your eyes frantically pass over those nearby. You don’t know if they’re really preoccupied on their phones or pretending not to notice the act of indecency that’s happening right beneath their noses. The college boy that almost crushed you earlier is still banging his head to whatever song is playing on his phone, and you take that as a sign to let yourself go.

“Now that won’t do,” Minghao tuts before sliding his fingers back inside you, nudging your thighs even further apart before curling his digits just so. “How can you come in five minutes if you’re so distracted?”

“F-Fuck,” you whine as quietly as you can. “Hao, f-feels so good.”

“Yeah?” he laughs softly and your vision goes black for a moment when you feel his thumb graze your clit with just the right pressure. Just how dextrous can he be? “Then focus on my fingers, sweetheart. If you can’t come before the train arrives at the next station, maybe I’ll just go back to hating you tomorrow after all.”

You nearly choke on a moan when he starts to rub your sensitive nub in varying pressures and speeds, nearly robbing you of your ability to speak. “You’re a f-fucking asshole, you know that?”

“You’re a fucking bitch, but see where that got you now?”

It’s almost like you’re hard-wired to rebut everything he says, and you have all those months of shared antagonism to thank for it. But when Minghao crooks his fingers at a slightly different angle, your already sore legs nearly give out when his fingers hit you deep enough to make stars dance in the seams of your vision.

“Oh?” He sounds so smug, you actually want to hit him. “There it is.”

You can hardly believe it. You can barely find your own g-spot even on good days if you don’t put your back into using your toys right, yet Minghao got it in less than five minutes, inside a train full of passengers, no less?

Your brain has all but fizzled out when the pads of his fingers start to massage that sweet, sweet spot inside of you again—milking your body for all those lovely reactions you’re so willing to give to him. Minghao’s cock is an ever-present weight against your ass, but this isn’t about him. It’s about you, and how badly he wants to feel you come apart on his fingers right here, right now.

“You liked being fingered on the train, sweetheart?” Minghao rasps into your ear, relentless in his movements as tears start to line your lashes. “Like it when you supposedly hate the man that’s doing this to you? That’s made you this fucking wet?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You’d let him stick his dick into you right now if he wanted, but you know that Minghao isn’t going to risk that just yet. So instead, you focus on the sensation of those skillful fingers—the same ones you’ve dreamt about a long time ago—coaxing out a high you never thought you’d achieve outside the four corners of your bedroom. 

You can think about his stroke game later. Those powerful thighs as he thrusts into you. Not to mention how euphoric it would feel to come around his cock, milking him for that white-hot release until it dribbles down your thighs and he inevitably fucks it all back into you—

The stimulation of Minghao’s dexterous digits coupled with the thrill of being caught are the main players for today’s debauchery, but it’s that particular fantasy that pushes you over the edge. 

One moment, you feel like you’re on top of the world again, and the next you can taste blood in your mouth with how hard you bite against your lip to muffle your moans. A gush of slick coats Minghao’s fingers as he helps you ride out of your orgasm, peppering the side of your face with butterfly kisses.

“Pretty little whore, coming in record time,” he chuckles.

You can barely just start taming your breathing when Minghao takes his fingers out of your panties—tugging your skirt down back to semi-decency before prodding those same fingers against your lips. Still dazed from the high he just let you experience, you open your mouth, lathering your tongue against each digit as the tangy taste of you fills your tastebuds. 

“Good fucking girl.”

The train eases into the next station, and just as Minghao predicted, the car frees up just enough for you to get comfortably seated by the windows again. He sits right next to you the whole time—hand never straying from yours as he holds it firmly in his. For some reason, that gesture of his flusters you more than the stunt he just pulled five minutes ago.

When you both get off the vehicle, the awkwardness begins to settle in your system. You don’t know what you’re supposed to say to him after all of...that. Is there even a protocol to follow after getting finger-fucked on public transportation?

“Hey.”

You startle when Minghao breathes out while the two of you make your way out of the station. It’s the first time he’s broken the silence since arriving, and your heart pounds in anticipation of what he’s about to say next.

“I really am sorry for all the shit I said to you these past few months,” he sighs, rubbing the back of his head like he’s just as clueless about what to do as you are.

You blink up at him. “Um, yeah. You already told me, Hao.”

“I just figured it was worth repeating.”

“Giving me a mindblowing orgasm is a good enough apology on its own, you know.”

He stops walking for a moment, and you look back at him with brows raised.

“Really now?” he asks, and—there’s that smirk again. That no good smirk. “I don’t think I’ve received a ‘good enough apology’ from you yet, sweetheart.”

One glance at his sweats, and sure enough, the evidence of his own raging arousal is still up for grabs. You feel your pussy tingle at the mere thought of what’s to come once you voice out your agreement, even if your overworked muscles are begging for a break.

Oh, well. Might as well stock up on more painkillers on the way.

⟢ end notes: i really really REALLY went overboard on this one and there isn't even any piv sex in action holy fucking shit LMFAO TT to lovely user yourfavoritefreakyhan, i hope i didn't scare you off with the word count JSHFD I REALLY JUST GOT CARRIED AWAY AHAHS hao has been testing me for DAYS and it manifested in this . anyway, pls don't expect every request from my ask game to turn out this fucking long bc this rly was just a heat of the moment creation AJSDHSJHF

[mothwingwritings]

WOW!!! I LOVED "The Innocent Act Of Dredging Up The Past", IT WAS VERY GOOD!

I wonder how Y/N reacted when she found out she was pregnant and how Fox allowed herself to keep the baby because he doesn't seem like someone who likes sharing attention.

Thank you so much darling!!! I am so glad you asked me this because I have been thinking about Ren as a father nonstop since that request. My brain has been full of many thoughts and opinions and I am happy to have an outlet for sharing lol. That being said, forgive my blathering. ^^;

(18+ and warnings for noncon, pregancy/baby birthing talk, incredibly unhealthy relationships, abuse, and being kidnapped/held against your will.)

Being impregnated by Ren would be absolutely dreadful for you, causing you to spiral into a pit of fear and despair the moment you miss a period or begin to feel queasy in the morning. With the signs starting to show, your brain comes to the instant conclusion that you are with child-his child, and it frightens you like nothing else before. At first you try and convince yourself nothing is wrong, that you are probably just late due to stress, and your upset stomach can be any number of things, it doesn’t necessarily mean you are pregnant. Any of your symptoms can be explained away by something else, so in an effort to try and maintain your sanity your brain churns out explanation after explanation, no matter how nonsensical they may be, in hopes of calming your rampant nerves by coming to some other resolution. A stream of constant lies and false reassurances play on repeat in your brain, forcing the thought that you may actually be a mother to the farthest reaches of your mind.

But the longer you wait and the more you dwell on it, the more you are faced with the inevitable. He never wears protection, you haven’t had access to birth control, and despite your warnings of it being a delicate time of month for you, his base instincts always won out in the end. There was nothing else this could be.

Faced with the reality of the situation, you were now tasked with the burden of sharing the news with Ren. You didn’t want to tell him, terrified of what his response would be, worried that he would somehow blame this all on you and hurt you because of it, quite possibly worse than he ever has before. But an even more horrifying concern than that is if the news actually pleases him. What if he wants to keep the baby? What if you were forced to carry this pregnancy to term while trapped in this grim environment, left to raise another human that shares half their dna with a man who has done nothing but cause you irrevocable damage?

No matter what the outcome, none of them are favorable.

But you didn’t have a choice, and you knew it was better to break it to Ren sooner rather than later, lest this whole nightmare become irreversible. In the event he saw things your way, you wanted this thing out of your body as soon as possible (though you loathed to consider what strings Ren would pull to achieve this, and what backwater procedure would be done to do so).

At first Ren brushes it off, not truly believing your concern. He’s had sex with you countless times without protection and just now you get pregnant? Seems suspicious, so he concludes you’re either overreacting or trying to get a rise out of him, potentially both, and that in and of itself riles him up. Are you telling him this as some kind of ploy? Are you using a false pregnancy as a means to get him to ease up on you a bit or as an attempt at escape? After all you had gone through together, after all the love he has lavished upon you by sharing his home, his life, his heart, with you… Would you really tell a lie like this?

He struggles with that possibility. Despite his inclination to feel otherwise, he has a hard time believing you would use a pregnancy scare for your own selfish benefit. You have always been a good girl, his good girl, and deep inside he knows this is not something that is within your nature to do, even if he does have some major doubts.

So, though he doesn’t truly believe your claims, he buys the pregnancy test more as a means to shut you up and prove a point than because he actually believes you. Needless to say, he ends up biting his tongue over that one.

When hit with the truth, his emotions are mixed. On one hand, he wants nothing to do with children or child rearing. He didn’t have to do much of a self-assessment to recognize he would be a shit father, and he never particularly wanted to be a father to begin with. His own upbringing wasn’t the best, he himself never really having a father figure that was worth a damn to guide him or show him any love or support. He had no parenting manual to go off of, and was sure that a culmination of having no positive family experience and maturing into the warped individual he had become led to no other conclusion than NOT being cut out for fatherhood in the slightest.

More than that however, the thought of sharing you, even with a life he helped create, really REALLY pissed him off. Thinking of all the nights you would be spending tending to the baby when you could instead be wrapped up in his arms, or all the attention and affection you will be giving some inept kid that could instead be going towards him, truly gets under his skin. He doesn’t WANT to share you. You’re HIS. And while a baby isn’t going to change that, he doesn’t want the needless competition to begin with.

But on the other hand, having a baby does have its appeal. It would be nice to bring a life into this world that loves him from the get-go, completely relying on him while being totally oblivious to all that has happened in the past. That sort of pure, blind love is hard to come by in this world, and the fact that he could obtain it so easily from a life he created with you, a human that has your blood running through its veins, is EXTREMELY appealing. And on top of that, you are sure to love the child whether its conception was wanted/planned or not. If you loved a child that was half his for the remainder of your life, would that not bind you to him for just as long? Though he didn’t doubt your loyalty (or his ability to keep you tied to him with no hope of escape), it would be a nice assurance to have in the rare event things did not end up going his way.

Once that thought enters his head, it’s over. No further thinking or future planning is required-he is going to be a father, and YOU are the beautiful mama! Congratulations! (Does he get off to you being pregnant? Did this pregnancy make Ren Hana realize he has a breeding kink??? Sources say yes and that’s your problem to deal with now. :))

♡

Holding his newborn for the first time, he has never been so nervous. Tears flood his eyes as he watches the small bundle squirming in his arms, his heart aching as they stare up at him with wide, pure, inquisitive eyes. He was no stranger to ending lives, but creating them? This was something entirely new, as exhilarating as it was scary. His smile grew as he stared at her small face, pleased that she looked so much like you. He could only hope that her personality would mirror yours as well.

♡

As time passes and the baby grows, you find out quick that Ren has a very ‘hands off’ way of parenting, which is to say he relies on you to do most of the work. And honestly, he feels that is fair. He’s the breadwinner who works hard to provide for you and the newborn, which leaves all other parental duties in your capable hands. You are left to be the child’s main caregiver, their guiding force to lead them through life, their teacher, confidante, and friend. It’s a daunting task, all residing solely on your shoulders.

Ren won’t readily admit it, but he much prefers it that way. All the abuse that he has suffered through from an early age, every heinous act of violence that has been carried out by his own hands (your wounds, included), all of it has turned him into something unrecognizable, something grotesque. Even if he wanted to have more of a presence in his child’s life, he knows he doesn’t deserve it. If he had too much sway in the kids development there’s a good chance they will grow up to be like him in some way or another, which would be a waste of all the love and hard work that you had put into raising them into being an upstanding person. Ren had made peace with who he had become, but that didn’t mean he wanted to keep a cycle that someone like Strade had begun going either.

So, the baby more or less becomes your soul responsibility, and god is that a burden for you. It’s bad enough that you have such little support from Ren to begin with, but the fact that this is YOUR first time being a parent as well makes it all so much worse. You have no idea what the hell you are doing, and with Ren making sure to keep you as isolated as possible you had no one else to turn to for help, either. It was just you and this brand new life with no one else to rely on, if you fucked up in even the smallest way it could be devastating to the baby. If your daughter got truly hurt, sick, or worse in your care, you didn’t know how you would live with the repercussions, let alone handle Ren’s reaction.

If your life with Ren hadn’t already made you a strung out, nervous, irritable wreck, being a mother certainly would. As she continues to grow, Ren refuses to discipline the child at all, not wanting in any way to appear like a ‘bad guy’ to your daughter. Given the circumstances, part of you is thankful for that (you honestly don’t know what you would do if he turned his ire towards her), but it also just makes things more difficult with you. You are already beyond stressed about trying to raise a child in this type of environment, having no united front and constantly butting heads makes raising her that much harder, especially when any kind of rule you attempt to establish can so easily be overridden by her father who has no remorse over the frustration this causes, nor care as to how his flippancy may affect your child’s development in the long run.

It’s also not lost on you that being the sole disciplinarian also paints you in a less than favorable manner in your child’s eyes, something you are sure Ren has thought about as well. Being the ‘strict’ parent means your child will be more likely to hide things from you, or seek out her father instead of you for support, approval, and advice. Given whom Ren was as a person, this thought didn’t sit particularly well with you.

All you can really hope and pray for is that somehow despite the lack of social interaction and outside influence she will grow up to be a decent human. Even maturing under the delusion that her father is a noble man, even if in some instances you have to make yourself the villain, as long as it helps her out in  the long run you’ll do everything you can to insure your daughter lives the best life she possibly can, whether her father helps you or not.

I think the REAL problems will begin when the child gets older. When she truly comes into herself and forms her own opinions, develops her own personality, and starts to forge her own way of life… It’s gonna be messy. :/ Your child’s autonomy is definitely going to be a point of contention for Ren in the future, and he won’t be so pleased if/when she catches on to his true nature and begins to rebel or straight up reject him. God forbid she tries and join forces with you or attempt to become your savior. It’s going to take a lot of cunning on her end to make it out unscathed.

Also, I kind of touched on it previously, but Ren would be incredibly horny the whole pregnancy. Not that he isn’t already incessantly slavering over you, something about seeing you round and full just makes him snap. Which is scary in its own right, Ren isn’t the most gentle of lovers to begin with and has a tendency to lose himself more often than naught, hurting you in the process. It’s a constant struggle to satiate him while protecting yourself and the unborn baby, best of luck to you! :D

(And he’ll definitely breastfeed from you. He’s gotta make sure you are producing enough for the baby, ya know? :))

[thegnomelord]

Soap and #12 with cismale reader. I was thinking they have mutual feelings for each other but not in a relationship yet, and some obliviousness mixed in for drama lol

Sure mate, though it ended up more drama than oblivious idiots in love lol. Play the game HERE.

Prompt: "What, did you think all those times I kissed you were for shits and giggles?" "Let's be real, you had a lot of fun shoving your tongue down my throat in public."

CW:NSFW, Sub Soap, Top male reader, back alley sex, semi-public sex, mild fighting, miscommunication, Soap being a jealous hoe(again)

You and Soap have a . . . thing. You're not quite sure what to call it; You're just comrades, friends, who go out for drinks after every mission and end up messily making out in the back of a bar only to get kicked out when you two inevitably get frisky and near an indecent exposure charge. But it's fine, because it gives you the excuse to go to base and fuck on the bed, or the floor, or the table, or against the wall, or any other semi-flat surface.

But you're just friends. . . or, that's what tell yourself every time your heart pitifully clenches in your chest when Soap smiles, when he laughs and pats your shoulder, when he moans your name so sweetly as you pound into him, when he looks at you as if his world starts and ends with you; because what would a bloke like Soap want with you other than sex? So you try to drown the ache for him by going out with other people, but it's never the same— not in the way they sound, in the way they move, in the way you feel.

Johnny, on the other hand, thinks you're his and his alone.

"I'm telling yea lads," Johnny says as he knocks back a beer, a lovey dovey look in his eyes like he's a lovesick puppy. "Ah've locked him down this time." He grins, and Ghost swears if he has to listen one more time about how big your cock is or how Johnny can still feel you from last time— he'll shoot you both.

"Uhuh," Gaz rolls his eyes, amused at his antics but also happy that he's finally found someone. "Yeah, su-" Something catches Gaz's eyes and he turns his head, the color draining from his face. "-ummmm."

Ghost's eyes quickly flicker over to where he's looking, "Look at that," Ghost gives a rough snort, "Locked your man down so good he's swappin' spit without you."

Soap's immediately sober as a nun, his neck audibly cracking when he swings around to look at you. The sight of you making out with a random girl across the bar has Soap's thoughts turning in his head like rusted cogs, the world almost slowing down to force him to feel all the emotions his brain spits out; Surprise comes first, like being drenched in ice cold water, disgust making his blood feel like tar at the thought of you touching someone else the same way you touch him, hot anger barreling straight through it to make fingers twitch for the trigger of a gun.

But it's the meek hurt that forces his legs to move, striding across the bar like he's on a war path. A rough hand on your shoulder makes you break off the kiss, your world spinning like a kaleidoscope from the booze and sudden force turning you around. Your eyes finally settle on familiar blue ones, but they're cold like the deepest part of the arctic. "Johnny?" You ask.

His name on your lips only makes his scowl deeper, a bruising grip on your arm as he tugs you, "We need tae talk," He spits, glaring at the poor girl you'd been making out with like she's riddled with plague.

You're not given even a second to argue before he's yanking you out the back exit into the alley between the bar and another building. A second later he's roughly slamming you into the brick wall, knocking the breath out of your lungs with a forearm against your throat and ignoring as you choke softly. "Thae fock's wrong wit' yea!" He snarls into your face, more animal than man.

Rapidly depleting oxygen forces your brain to flood your veins with adrenaline and suddenly you're moving, harshly elbowing him in the stomach and ramming him into the stone wall behind him you swear the rock cracks. "Me? What's wrong with you?"

He tries to push against you, your arms scrambling for a solid hold until you end up in a stand still, "What's wrong-" He shoves his face into yours, nearly breaking your nose while hissing like a feral cat, "-is thaet ye're shacking up with some tramp."

"So what!" You demand, a low grunt leaving your lips as you attempt to keep him pinned when he squirms like an eel, "We're just casual-" You force out those words, trying to ignore the stab to the chest your heart gives.

"Casual?" He scoffs and with a swift jerk of his head smashes his skull into yours. You stumble away, black spots dancing in your vision and that's all he needs to grab and switch your positions, pinning you to the wall. "What? D'yea think all those times I kissed you were for shits and giggles?" He demands, a bit of a traitorous hurt making his his voice crack, face pinched in pain.

"Let's be real-" Copper and iron invade your tastebuds, drawing attention to the slow stream of blood trickling from your nose, "-you had a lot of fun shoving your tongue down my throat in public."

You feel his body tense, but keep your eyes open as you expect him to punch you, to kick you, to do something to prove what you have is just temporary; pointless bliss.

"Then how'bout ah give yea a clearer message-" He leans in to lick trail of blood on your face before capturing your lips in a kiss that's more teeth than anything else. You wretch your hand free to tangle your fingers in his short hair, bodies fitting together like jigsaw pieces, reciprocating with just as much intensity as you bite his bottom lip until his blood floods your mouths. "Got it through yer thick skull now?" He asks, pulling back just a bit to stare into your eyes.

You don't know what 'it' is, but the kiss and the roughness makes heat burn through your veins, one quick flicker of your eyes confirming he's sporting the same problem in his pants as you are. "Think I'll need more convincing."

Soap yelps when you turn him around, pinning his chest to the cold wall as your hands slide down to his belt. You stall for a second to give him a way out, but he just growls, "Get on with it," So you quickly undo his pants, shoving his jeans and boxers just down beneath the swell of his arse.

"Slut," You chuckle when you catch sight of the black plug nestled between his cheeks, the skin near it still glistening with lube from how messily he'd prepped himself, "Needed me so bad did you?" You ask as you pull the plug out, putting it into your pocket as you push the head of your cock against his fluttering opening.

"'s cause ah love yea, fockin' git." He growls, his words making your brain crash.

"Repeat that," You say, softer, kinder than you usually operate, pressing against him until you're covering his back completely. "Say that again."

He notices your change, the ice in his eyes melting away enough to let him tug your head closer to kiss you, "I love you." The way he says it, like a prayer, like a sweet caress, has your heart melting into a puddle. A dingy back alley shouldn't be the place where you confess your love, but right now it feels like Paris.

"Love you too," You kiss him back and slide into him in one slow stroke, greedily swallowing down his sounds. You let him adjust before setting a hard pace like you know he loves, cock head scraping against his prostate with every thrust. "Really, really love you." You breathe out, watching his eyes lose focus as he lets out little 'ah, ah, ah's every time your hips meet.

"Bonnie, bonnie lad please-" He whines, resting his face against the dirty wall as he moans without shame, forgetting that anyone could walk in on you two and more than likely hear you across the single layer brick wall. "Fock, c'mon, give it to me."

"Yeah, gonna take care of you-" Your hand slides down to rub his cock, squeezing his base every time you bottom out and playing with his head when you draw your hips back so you can plunge back inside him, lust and love lighting up every synapse in your body. "Just say you love me again."

Johnny's eyes close as he falls into a barely comprehensible rambling of 'love you, love you, love you', his body shaking with a building heat in his stomach, precum rapidly lubing the glide of your hand as you fuck him in a harsh pace until with a sharp yell against his shoulder you cum inside him, Johnny following suit as he paints the dirty wall white with his cum.

You feel him collapse against you and have just enough strength left to support you both, though the wall does the brunt of the work. You breathe the same air as you try to get your bearings, both hearts beating in the same speed and rhythm, and Johnny whines when you attempt to shift, hole clenching greedily around you like his body doesn't want you to seperate.

"You know," You say when you've managed to catch your breath, nuzzling into the back of his neck, "There are easier ways to say you love me without biting my head off." You chuckle, as if your heart isn't beating a thousand miles per hour at the knowledge Soap loves you.

He swats at your head, "Oh awa' an bile yer heid." He growls such harsh words before kissing you softly, sharing a silent promise with you.

[aerynwrites]

Cherished

Alpha!Halsin x Omega!afab!Reader

A/N: Had this horny thought in my brain. Wrote it. Here you go. Lol. First time writing for this universe (A/B/O) so i apologize if anything is off - I didn’t lean into it as heavily as I probably could have but I still think you all will enjoy! <3

Word Count: 7.5k

Warnings: NSFW 18+ ONLY. Smut, PiV Sex, vaginal fingering, making out, semi-rough sex, marking, creampie, unprotected sex, cock warming, implied past abuse (not detailed), reader has trauma, but Halsin is there to help. Love confessions, after care, fluff, emotional hurt/comfort.

The medicinal smell sets a knot of panic bundling in your chest as soon as you open your pack. 

With little grace, the contents are spilled onto the floor of your tent as you upend your bag hastily, shaking the fabric until every last item is before you, and the delicate tinkle of glass fills your ears. 

No, no, no! 

Your mind screams in panic and utter despair as you spot the broken vials peeking out from the green cloth they’re wrapped in, the fabric tinged a darker shade as the solution soaks it. 

You quickly unwrap the precious items, fear ballooning in your throat as tears well up behind your eyes.

It’s gone. All of it. You’re entire supply of suppressing elixirs, soaking into the fabric that was supposed to protect them, rendering the solutions useless. 

Fuck.  

You should have been more careful. But then again, how were you supposed to know a simple tumble on the road would be enough to damage the goods in your pack? They’ve been through far worse with them on your person and it’s been fine.  

Until now. 

A sob breaks out of your chest as you stare at the shattered glass, and you search desperately through the carnage for just one unscathed vial, uncaring of the nicks the sharp shards leave on your finger tips. 

You can make one vial stretch until you reach baldur's gate. It would be hard, it might not work but it would be something.  

You won’t make it to the city on nothing. Not undetected. And you refused to let anyone find out the truth.

With palms pressed against your eyes in an effort to push away the tears you try to take deep steadying breaths. Between those and the blood roaring in your ears, you don’t hear someone approaching your tent until a fanilair shock of black hair pops through the entrance flap. 

“There you are, we need help setting up-“ 

Shadowheart’s words die on her tongue just as her eyes fall onto you then the mess on the floor, her nose twitching almost imperceptibly. 

It seems like slow motion as her eyes widen slightly, and she steps fully into the tent, closing the flap behind her before coming to crouch before you. 

You hurriedly try to wrap the broken evidence and shove it in your bag despite knowing the action is futile. 

Shadowheart reaches out, grabbing your arm gently. “What are you doing with suppressant elixirs?” She asks, voice lacking the accusing quality you expect.

Avoiding her eyes you shrink into yourself, readying yourself for the inevitable. “Why do you think?” You whisper, clutching the balled up cloth to your chest. 

Shadowheart is silent as she thinks, and panic surges forward full force as you reach out to take her hand in yours in a vice grip. 

“Please, you can’t tell anyone,” you beg, shocking the former sharr worshiper. 

She shakes her head, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Was that all you had left? Do you have any more?” 

You swallow thickly and shake your head no. “That was it. I don’t…I won’t make it to the city without it. And I… no one can know. I’ll…I can leave and travel ahead or try and find a secluded place to wait it out before meeting you all outside the city.” 

The words fall from your lips before you really think about them but…it could work. You know the side effects of stopping suppressants, and despite wanting to keep this part of yourself hidden, you couldn’t risk being around this many alphas when the medicine left your system. No way. 

Sequestering yourself is the best way. 

Shadowheart looks at you, shock evident on her features. 

“Are you mad? Do you know what happens when you quit usuing supressants? The effects are brutal when weaned off of them the correct way. Stopping like that-“ she snaps her fingers. “No. It’s going to be excruciating.” 

You can’t help but bristle at her tone, that all to familiar alpha authority slipping through. The exact thing you knew would happen if they found out what you are. 

An omega.  

You pull away from the woman, frowning as you start to shove items into your pack once more.

“I don’t need you telling me what to do. I’m the one who has dealt with this my whole life, not you.”  

The woman reels back at the venom on your words, eyes softening. “I wasn’t trying to tell you what to do, I just…I’ve seen it before. You won’t last, you need-“ she bites her tongue, as if afraid her next words will scare you, but continues after a beat of silence. “You’ll need someone to help you through this. You have to know that.” 

“No, no!” You stand up abruptly, hands clenching at your sides. “I’ll be fine. I don’t need some - some alpha, to come and use me before casting me aside,” you spit, turning back to your pack again, desperate to busy yourself so you don’t lose yourself to panic. 

Shadowheart doesn’t let up, concern evident in her voice. “What about Halsin, you two seem cozy enough and I know he’d probably be more than eager to help-“ 

You straighten up at this, turning to face her once more pack clutch tightly in your hands. “No! Shadowheart, please!”  

Halsin… 

She’s right. You two have been closer that usual, this journey to the city doing nothing but bringing you closer than you already were. You’ve both flirted and touched and danced around your feelings for weeks now but this… 

No. The thought of him finding out, and it changing the way he looks at you. Changing his feelings or making him see you as this… thing - to be used and then tossed aside…

No, you can’t bear the thought. 

With fists clenched tight, you stand your ground, trying to assert the title of defacto leader you’ve taken on. 

“Just stay here. I’ll be…I’ll be fine, I promise,” you pause, thinking. “There’s an abandoned house we passed earlier today in our travels. It was back before the waterfall. I’ll be there. If you get to the city and more time has passed than normal then…you know where to find me.” 

The woman’s lips settle into a thin line, arms crossing across her chest. “You’re denser than I thought if you think we’re traveling on without you. Tadpoles be damned,” she reaches out and takes your hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. “I’ll make up some excuse for us to make camp here for a while. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll come find you myself.” 

Relief floods through your veins, and before you can think better of it, you step forward and wrap her in a tight hug. 

“Thank you. Truly I…I don’t deserve your kindness, not after keeping this from you.” 

Shadowheart shakes her head as you pull away, her hands resting lightly on your arms. “I understand a thing or two about not being forthcoming about certain aspects of your past, but…” she trails off, eyes flirting away before coming back to yours. “I do not think those around us will treat you the way you expect. I wish you would give them a chance. Give him a chance.” 

You sigh. “A chance to what? Take advantage?” 

The woman smiles sadly. 

“A chance to show you that they aren’t as terrible as you assume they will be.” 

———

Shadowheart has helped you pack the rest of supplies you’d need. Food enough to last a week, some fresh water, although the old house looked to be by a stream so if you run out you can get more. 

She was still reluctant to let you leave, but after one last assurance she eventually did. 

Which leads you to where you are now, exhausted and weary as you try to set up a makeship living situation in the abandoned house. It was early evening when you left camp, having seen the structure earlier in the day of traveling.

It took you hours to back track and the sun has long set, your only light being from the few candles you have lit and the moon streaming in through the crumbling roof in the corner of the dilapidated home. 

But you are making quick work of the space, having moved any broken furniture to the back corner of the room and pulling any spare blankets beneath your bedroll in an effort to make a more comfortable bed. 

You can do this. Hopefully the effects will be minimal and pass in a few days. Shadowheart said she would work on trying to get more suppressants for you, and then you could return like nothing ever happened. 

Right?  

You scoff slightly, trying to shove away the reality that settles in your mind. This is going to suck. And when you do make it through, the likelihood of having suppressants available is slim. 

The truth will come out one way or another. A thought you choose not to wrestle with tonight in favor of crawling into your bedroll. 

Consequences can wait. Right now you just want to sleep, to hide from the torment that is to come. 

———

Pain . 

It’s the first thing that registers in your sleep-addled mind, ripping away the last tendrils of slumber as a crushing ache pulses in your stomach. It radiates outwards, making your very bones groan in protest as you curl in on yourself, the discomfort nearly blinding as you try to orient yourself.  

The next thing you notice is the heat, like fire licking at your skin as you shove yourself out of the bedroll, moving to settle on top of it instead. The air, despite it being barely dawn, offers no cool reprieve against your sweat slick skin. Your clothes stick to you, plastered to your body as if you’d just jumped into the nearby river. 

Another cramp seizes you, but this time another feeling accompanies it. A feeling that has become a stranger to you since taking the suppressants. 

Need.  

Bone deep, soul crushing, need floods through you, your core throbbing with it and calling out to the one thing that’s not here. 

No. You don’t need him.  

You don’t need an alpha to help you, you refuse to need him. You’ve done this your whole life by yourself. You can do it now. 

But can you? That little voice in your head asks, that voice behind your baser instincts, the one you’ve kept hidden for so long. 

It’s been years since your last heat. The suppressants effectively wiping away anything and everything that made you an omega. And now…it’s as if all of the things you’ve held at bay have come crashing down. Showing you what you are, as if saying ‘ here I am. You can’t run from me.’ 

You shake your head. Mouth dry, tongue thick as your mouth parts on a broken sob. 

Gods, help me.  

———— 

Time passes in flirting bouts of consciousness. Night gives way to dawn before you succumb to unconsciousness - only to wake again worse than before, but this time with sunlight streaming through the broken windows. 

The fever never abates, and you manage to reach the meager few feet to wretch your water skin from your pack, downing the contents entirely in one go. But it does nothing to ease the ache or the heat beneath your skin. 

So you give in. Naively hoping your own touch will help the need subside, will satiate something within you. 

It take more effort than you expect to peel your pants from your legs, every touch to your feverish skin making arousal shoot through you, adding to the slick already coating your thighs. The fabric pulls way wetly from your damp skin until you finally toss them to the side, in favor of sliding desperate fingers beneath the waistband of your underwear. 

As finger slide through your wetness, the relief is there. But barely. No matter what you do, no matter how many fingers you use it barely touches the ache in your core. Like a quick summer rain on a forest fire…it offers no relief. 

But you keep trying, tears slipping down your cheeks as the first, the second, the third, orgasm rips through you, leaving you exhausted but no where near satiated. 

Sleep claims you then, when the sun is starting to set once more. 

You have no idea how much time has passed the next time you wake, the hours passing in a haze of lust and pain and tears. 

You come and go from consciousness, feeling as if your body is both shutting down and just starting up at the same time. 

Has it been hours? Minutes? Days? 

Time doesn’t seem to exist in this small house in the woods. Until finally some semblance of lucidity comes to you at the same time as an all too familiar scent floats in on the breeze though the windows. 

Halsin - no, you shake your head. 

Alpha. 

Fear shoots through you at the same time the primal instincts do. The baser part of you craves him - urges you to go to him. But the fear is stronger. The fear of the past - of those who used you. 

The fear wins out. 

You all but leap from your bedroll, your knees buckling beneath you as you do, your heat having taken most of your strength. 

You struggle agaisnt it as you stand, hearing a faint call of your name just as you manage to grasp the edge of a nearby table and push in in front of the door. 

He calls your name again, and you bite the inside of your cheek to keep the moan from falling from your lips. 

Go to him. He’s yours. He’ll help. Go to him. Go to him. GO- 

“No!” You shout, pressing yourself against the table, “Halisn go . Away ! Please…” 

The last word comes out on a sob, unable to contain everything roiling within you. Your need, your fear, your utter love for the man outside. It’s too much. 

You hear a gentle thud on the door, as if he’s pressed his forehead to the other side, his hand pressing to the wood. 

“I only wish to help. I promise, I did not come with any other intention.” 

His words are muffled by the door separating you, and you push yourself harder against the table at your back, the edge digging into your spine. 

“H-how did you find me?” You ask, fighting for every word agaisnt your foggy mind. 

It’s quiet for a moment until he finally speaks. “Shadowheart came to me this morning asking if I had any knowledge of healing herbs or elixirs for…for heat.” 

You let out a shaky breath. You want to be angry. Angry at your friend for betraying you. Angry at the situation. Angry at yourself for getting you here. 

But you’re just tired. You’re tired and exhausted and in pain and you don’t know what to do. 

“ Please,” Halsin begs, a sound you’ve never heard fall from his lips before. “I only wish to ease your pain. To help in any way I can. I will not touch you if you do not wish. I swear it on the life the Oak Father granted me.” 

Clutching the edge of the table is the only thing keeping you upright, your nails digging into the wood. 

“I don’t..you can’t control it. They never can. I know…I know what will happen.” 

The words are quiet, so quiet you don’t know if he can hear you. But he does, and his voice is gentle and kind, and everything you've ever wanted to hear in a situation like this. 

“You are wrong,” he says plainly. “I do not pretend to know what you have suffered at the hands of other alphas, but I know they can be cruel. I just…I hope you know me well enough - trust me enough to know I will not be the same.” 

Fuck.. fuck! 

You don’t give him a verbal answer, instead you just barely manage to move the table away from the door in order to open it. You watch with bated breath as the man on the other side visibly flinches, no doubt being assaulted with the scents and smells of your untamed heat. 

You watch, fingers clutching the edge of the door as he stills, shoulders rising with a deep breath as that all too familiar golden sheen rolls over his body. You almost move to slam the door closed again, but stop short when the magic fades away and his eyes flutter open, showing you hazel instead of that druidic gold you’ve seen before. 

He gives you a small smile, and the motion eases you somewhat, that fear slowly creeping away. You move aside to let him in, and he enters slowly, taking in the room before his eyes fall to you as you close the door. 

He takes a step closer then, but slowly, giving you time to  move away or ward him off if you so wish. 

You don’t. You can’t.  

That need inside you is still there and it’s stronger with him this close. Begging you to pull him closer, to have him touch you, to have him make it all go away. The effort required to refuse these needs is worse than the pain you’ve been feeling since you left camp, and you want nothing more than to give in. 

So you stay still as he approaches you, holding one hand up to press gently against your forhead, eyes widening as he feels the heat coming off you in waves. 

Gods… his touch is like a soothing balm against your skin, and you can’t stop the whimper that leaves your lips as you all but melt into him, gasping when he pulls away. 

“You’re burning with fever,” he says, concern lacing each syllable as he reaches for you again, this time not touching you but letting his magic free as his eyes fall closed. 

You wait with bated breath as the magic golden glow hovers in the air in front of you, lighting his palm as small yellow tendrils reach for you. 

It’s over in just a few moments, and the room is cast in the dim glow of the dusk once more as Halsin looks over you worriedly. 

“When was the last time you ate? Drank?” 

You shake your head, trying to remember, but the only memories that fill your mind are muddy and confused. 

“I don’t…I don’t know. When I left camp? I drank water not long ago..I think,” another cramp rocks you where you stand, and you would have crumpled to the ground if not for the two strong hands that catch you. “I don’t know, everything is hazy I can’t remember.” 

Halsin inhales sharply, brows furrowed as he shakes his head. “That was days ago,” he looks around, gently leading you to your bedroll when he spots it, urging you to lay down. “You must eat. I will fetch more water from the stream close by and then I will see what I can do to ease your pain.” 

With those simple instructions he’s gone as fast as he appeared. And the arousal is back as strong as ever. But you try, you try to do what he said. Managing to pull the rations from your pack and nibble at an apple and some dried meat. You almost finish by the time he’s back, a bucket filled with fresh water in his hands. 

He approaches you once more, movements still slow and cautious until he’s kneeling at your side, refilling your waterskin before offering it to you. 

You sit up moving to drain the contents like last time, but he stops you, tugging at the skin gently. 

“Slow. You will make yourself sick if you take it all in one go. Take your time,” he says, tone gentle. 

You try to listen, but between everything buzzing around inside you and the desperate thirst you just now notice, it’s a herculean task. But you do it, not only to avoid making your situation worse but because some part of you, that tiny voice in the back of your head…it wants to please him. 

You push the skin away, arms curling around yourself as another wave of pleasure rolls through you at the thought. You double over, laying on your side as your knees come to your chest, desperate for the discomfort to stop. 

“Halsin, please…” you beg, unashamed to finally admit you need help. “Do something, I can’t take it anymore.” 

You can hear his breath hitch and are assaulted by a faintly sweet smell. A calmness washing over you, offering the only brief respite you’ve had in days. 

He’s trying to calm you.  

You can’t find it in you to care. Relishing in the only relief you’ve had since you’ve left camp. But you know it won’t last, and that thought alone is enough to make tears spill over once more. 

Halsin shushes you quietly, voice soothing as he hovers a hand over your shoulder. “Don’t cry, my heart. I will do everything in my power to help you, I swear it.” 

You nod, trying in vain to wipe away the tears. 

“Please, hurry.” 

As soon as the words leave your lips, you see the faint glow of magic once more, feel it reaching out for you as Halsin slowly moves his hand down over your body then up once more. 

It takes him longer this time, and the relief you felt just moments earlier is already starting to fade away. You nearly cry out when Halsin withdraws from you, frustration costing his features as muttered curses fall from his lips. 

“Those suppressants are a poison,” he finally says, his words venomous. “An affront to nature as it was designed.” 

Shame fills you as he speaks, joining your already muddled emotions. “I’m sorry,” you manage to whisper, voice broken.

Hazel eyes snap to yours, lips set in a fine line as he shakes his head. “This is not your fault,” he assures you, voice firm. “Society has spread the lies that you, omegas, are something to be claimed and taken rather than cherished and treasured as the oak father intended. They made you afraid, fearful of who you are. Pushed these things upon you so you could hide-“ a low growl slips past his lips, as he cuts himself off. 

He pauses, shoulders falling as he lets out a sigh before looking to you once more. 

“These elixirs are beyond my comprehension. The medicine runs deep in your veins I…I know of no natural remedy or spell to counter its effects.” 

Dread settles deep in your belly at the realization that you basically have two options at this point. You can either wait out the symptoms and hope the fever doesn’t harm you or…give in to the need. Something that doesn’t scare you as much as it did at first, but something you still don’t know if you can trust. 

But you want to. You want him to touch you, to hold you, to do all of the things you’ve imagined him doing. But you want him to want it too. Not because of some biological drive but…because he desires you. 

And maybe…maybe he does. Who else’s could come all the way out here? What other alpha would have resisted touching you this long? You can think of no one else. Anyone else would have given in by now, you know it’s as excruciating for him as it is for you. 

So why is he here if not out of care for you…out of love ? 

Another tremble runs through you as you sit up, eyes searching his own before you speak. 

“Can you just…hold me? I just need, something, anything and I -“ you pause as another cramp takes your breath away. “I understand if you don’t want too - or think it would be-“ 

Gentle hands on your cheeks stop you in your tracks, and once again you practically melt into his palms, his touch the only thing providing any relief. 

“It would be my pleasure, my heart.” 

You sigh in relief, hands immediately falling to the hem of your shirt, the still damp material uncomfortable against your skin. You watch as Halsin reaches for his own vest before hesitating, eyes flitting to you in a silent question. 

Once your shirt is discarded and you’re down to your small clothes you give him a small nod, reaching out to him instead this time, fingers tugging at the lacings of his clothing. You try to focus, try to push past the lust fogging your kind. But it’s harder the closer you are to him, noticing every minute detail of the man in front of you. 

The way his breath hitches as you untie the laces and he helps you tug the article off his body. His scent assaults you as he does so. The way his muscles ripple beneath his skin as he reaches for you. The heat rivaling your own wafting off his skin in waves as he pulls you close to him before bringing you both to lay on your makeshift bed. 

He completely surrounds you, the smell of pine and the earth and something so subtly sweet it could only ever remind you of him. His arms tighten around you as you press your cheek to his chest, the light dusting of hair tickling your skin in the best way as his chin rests atop your head. 

The longer he holds you to him, the more relief seeps into your bones, that tormenting ache dissipating ever so slightly. But it never leaves completely, still tugging at the edges of your mind and making your fingers twitch from where your hands rest against his back. 

You can’t take it anymore. The need too great, your desire finally winning out as you pull away just enough so you can look up at the druid. He gives you a pained smile, clearly holding back the same what you are, and that’s enough to finally make you take action. 

Before the alpha can process your intentions you have a leg thrown over him, rolling until you sit astride his hips. Your hands brace against his chest as he looks up at you, brows drawn together in confusion. 

“What are you-“ 

You cut him off with hands against his cheeks, thumbs brushing his lips as your eyes travel over his face. 

“I want this,” you finally say, voice barely a whisper in the night. “I want you, but I-“ you have to bite back the tears that clog your throat. “ Promise me. Promise me you’ll be here when we’re done. Promise me you won’t leave when you’ve gotten what you want. I can’t…my heart can’t bear it.” 

Shock crosses Halsins face, followed quickly by what you recognize as a firm resolve and finally…the softest look you've ever recieved. He reaches up, taking one of your hands in his own to press a gentle kiss to your palm, then to your wrist before finally tugging you down so you’re chest to chest, your nose brushing his. 

Before you can blink, strong arms wrap around you, holding you to him as he flips you both over, your back now against the blankets as he hovers over you. 

“You are not so easily cast aside, my heart.” He tells you, voice full of reverence. “You plague my thoughts both waking and sleeping. Your taste lingers on my tongue each time we kiss. You’ve captured my entire being, heart and soul,” he presses a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips as tears slip from your eyes. “I will be here when you wake this day, and every day to come. I will cherish you as you deserve, as all those in the past have failed to do. If you will have me.” 

Words fail you in light of the poetic ones he whispers to you. So you do the one thing you’ve been denying yourself for days. Leaning up your press your lips to his, nearling crying out at the utter relief that washes through your veins when he returns the action, lips meeting yours in frantic eagerness. 

You pull away but his lips never leave your skin, trailing down as you reach up to thread shaking fingers through his bronze locks. 

“ Please,” you beg, desperation hanging on the simple word. “Touch me, I can’t take another moment without it. Without you.”  

Halsin is quick to oblige, his hands moving over you in a hurried rush. He rids you of your underthings before divesting himself of his own clothing and sinking to press fully against you. You can feel the hard length of him pressing against your hip, and your back arches instinctively into him, desperate to feel more of him. 

Halsin groans, unable to stop the way his hips thrust against your own, one hand falling down to take your hip in a bruising grip. 

“You do not know what you ask of me,” he warns you, voice low. “I have craved you for a long time, my heart. Once I start…I do not know that I will be able to stop until I know you are mine.” 

You shake your head, reaching up to tangle your hands in his hair as your legs move to wrap around his waist. “I don’t want you to stop,” you beg, “make me yours, please.”  

The need inside you is burning at an all time high, reaching a crescendo you didn’t even know possible as you lay beneath the powerful alpha above you. You know he could do whatever he wanted to you, with or without your permission. But you know he won’t, which just adds fuel to the fire in your veins. 

You want him. You want him to claim you and make you his, a feeling you’ve never had before. You’ve been hiding your whole life, but now, laid bare before him…You're no longer afraid. 

As if sensing any residual fear seep from you, Halsins lips crash against yours once more, wasting no more time. You feel his hand trail between you both, fingers touching you where you want him most. 

You cry out against his lips as his fingers slip through your arousal, teasing your entrance before coming back up to rub rhythmic patterns against the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“You’re so wet for me,” his voice is husky next to your ear, almost a growl as he senses your complete and utter need. “Are you…Do you think you are ready?” 

It’s a genuine question, born both from actual concern but also impatience. You can sense he’s already holding back, willing to do whatever you need in order to not hurt you, but also wanting desperately to sink himself into you fully. 

You nod your head, you’ve come so many times since you’ve been here, your legs are sticky with your slick. There’s no way you couldn’t take him. 

Your hands scrabble at his back, pulling him closer to you, your thighs squeezing his hips firmly. “ Please , Halsin,” you beg, voice a pathetic whimper.

He needs no more encouragement. You feel the head of him slide through your wetness before he’s sinking into you at a pace that is both soothing the ache within you and also stoking the flames. 

A keening sound rips itself form your chest as he settles against you, and you expect him to wait, to be ever the gentleman and hold still for much longer than you can take right now. 

But to your shock and utter relief, Halsin does no such thing. He starts a firm and fast pace, his hips retreating before thrusting back into your own, filling you completely each time and driving the breath from your lungs. 

Gods he feels so good. It feels right. There is no pain, no discomfort, just the feeling of being so full it somehow completes you, as if Halsin was made just for you. 

My alpha.  

Halsin growls, head dropping to the crook of your neck, nipping at the delicate skin as his fingers dig deeper into your thighs. 

“Yes, I’m yours, little omega, and you are mine.” 

His words nearly shock you from your pleasure, not realizing you had said your thoughts out loud. And he…He called you his omega. Usually being referred to by your biological designation would anger you, make your fists clench and that all too familiar black anger build in your chest - but now…

The way he said he is yours. Giving himself to you and simultaneously calling you his own…it made stars burst behind your eyes, your orgasm crashing over you so suddenly it steals your senses from you. 

Blood rushes in your ears, your eyes clench shut, and you can feel the faint rawness in your throat as you cry Halsin’s name. 

Halsin doesn’t still as you come, only slows his thrusts as he works you through your high, grunts of pleasure brushing against your skin as you clench around him, your nails dig into his skin so hard you’re sure there will be evidence of this encounter for days to come. 

Warm lips press beneath your jaw, and you turn your head up willingly, silently begging him for more. 

“Are you alright, my heart?” 

His voice is soft, but strained, and it’s only then that you realize he’s still hard, thrusting haphazardly against you in an effort to satiate his own needs but not overwhelm you. 

Warmth blooms in your chest at his words and actions. No one has ever asked you that in the past. They just took and took until they were stated and then left…

You give him a small nod, pushing back at the tears burning at the back of your eyes. “Yes I-“ your voice croaks weakly. “I’m fine, I - I’m more than fine.” 

Yet even as you speak, you can feel that all to familiar burn spread through you once more. Your release had soothed the ache momentarily, but it’s back, slowly seeping back into every limb, your core churning with desire once more. 

Another whimper escapes you, as you turn to nuzzles Halsin cheek. “ Gods, it’s still there,” you cry, frustration painting your words. 

Halsin hums low in his chest, turning to press a gentle kiss to your temple, uncaring of the sweat beading there. 

“It may take a while for your body to get rid of the suppressants,” he says softly. “It may be several days before it is completely out of your system.” 

He must see the way your eyes widen, feel the way your breath hitches, because he soothes your worries with a kiss, pressing his weight into you in an effort to comfort you. 

“Do not let that worry you,” he says, hands sliding up your thighs until they rest on your waist. “The need will lessen with each passing hour, especially if spent with someone else.” 

You hear his unsaid meaning. The need will pass with each release, like an overflowing bucket being emptied a spoonful at a time. Shakily, you nod, accepting his answer before letting out a whine when he pulls away from you. 

A momentary stab of panic shoots through you, as he separates himself from your sweat slick skin, leaving you achingly empty as he pulls from you with a hiss. 

You reach for him blindly, only just now realizing how dark it is. Halsin arrived as the sun was already dipping below the horizon but now it’s nowhere to be seen, the last rays of light slipping away sometime earlier, leaving the small room lit with nothing but weak candle light. 

Halsin is nothing but a large dark mass in the poorly lit room, but you reach for him all the same, practically melting into him when his hands meet your flesh once more. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assures, lips pressing to your forehead as his hands settle on your hips.

He urges you into a new position slowly, lips never leaving your skin as you settle onto your hands and knees, fingers digging into the blanket below you as he kisses over your shoulder and down your spine. 

His hands move in the opposite direction, moving from the crook of your hips, up your sides before brushing over the swells of your breasts, gentle teasing stiff peaks between his fingers as he finally leans over you. 

Your head falls forward as his lips brush your ear, your need burning anew and more fiercely than before at this new position. 

“Is this alright?” he asks again, and for the first time tonight his careful consideration makes a tiny flicker of frustration burn in your chest. 

For the first time since you can remember you’ve never been more than alright. But now - needy and vulnerable and displayed for him… 

You groan, pressing back into him as his hands slide back up to your waist. 

“Yes, I’m fine just, please!” Desperate need and desire flair up in you so violently it nearly makes your hips buckle, the only thing keeping you upright being Halsin’s firm grip. 

“Please, alpha, take me.” 

Calling him alpha, you presented before him, the sent of sex and sweat and heat, in the air…It’s all too much for the both of you. 

The man behind you lets out a feral growl, and if this were any other man you’d be slightly afraid of what he’d do. But now…Utter excitement and arousal spread through your veins like liquid fire as he enters you in one swift thrust. 

He was deep before, touching you in places you’d never felt before, but like this… You nearly choke on the scream of pleasure that tears from your throat. You drop your face into the blankets beneath you, stifling your sounds as Halsin continues his brutal pace. 

A hand leaves your hips as calloused fingers slide beneath your jaw, pulling you up from the blankets just enough to turn your head to the side. His grip is firm but not ungentle as he leans down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss. 

“Do not hide from me,” he says, teeth tugging at your bottom lip before he pulls away to nose at your cheek. “I wish to hear every sound you make. I want to hear my name fall from your lips, I want the Oak Father himself to know who you cry out for.” 

A particularly hard thrust, the harsh grip on your hips, and his unusually filthy words make you come for a second time, obeying his demand to not hide your noises. 

Your fingers dig into the soft fabric beneath you, and as Halsin continues his movement within you, you’re afraid you might tear it to shreds. 

Gods… you can feel everything. Every vein, every ridge, every inch of him inside you. All of your nerve endings are on fire and you’re so sensitive you don’t know if it’s pleasure or pain pulsing in your core. 

And for a moment it seems like Halsin isn’t even close to reaching his end despite him already driving you to your third release. 

He presses down into you, one arm wrapping around your hips to keep your semi-limp form pressed to him as his other hand slides up to tangle into the hair at the base of your neck. He doesn’t pull harshly, instead he presses you further into the bedroll and covers beneath you, arching your back in a way that makes him hit impossibly deeper, reaching the end of you. 

“Oh, fuck, Halsin!” you cry his name in pure ecstasy, as he fucks down into you, taking you and claiming you just like you wanted. 

You feel it when his hips start to stutter, can hear his breathing grow even more ragged than it already was, his grip on your hips tightening as his thrusts turn more shallow. 

It’s like you can sense his hesitance, and before he can ask the question you know he wants to ask you find yourself answering.

“In me,” you practically sob, pressing your hips back into him. “Come in me, please…” 

He lets out a sound you can’t even identify, something close to a sigh and a cry of relief as he falls over you. His chest pressed flush against your back as he braces himself on one arm beside your head. 

His head falls next to your own, lips pressing against you as his teeth tease the skin at the crook of of your neck. 

You can feel him hesitate, pulling away until you reach up to tug him back down. 

“No I- do it,” you beg. “Please I…I love you - please, do it.” 

Part of you is panicked when he hesitates at your words, but it’s fleeting as Halsin’s teeth dig into your flesh. You cry out as he breaks skin and your third release washes over you, bringing Halsin over the edge with you. 

His breath is hot against your skin as he moans, hips snapping into yours as he spills into, stilling as he slowly brings both your bodies to the ground. 

His entire weight is settled on top of you, and you can't find it in you to care. In fact, you crave it. The feeling of him caging you in, his sweat slick skin against your own as he laps lazily at the new mark on your neck. 

Eventually he turns, nuzzling at your cheek until you manage to turn to let him capture your lips in a kiss. It’s a slow, sensual thing. His tongue reaches to slide against your own as his arms move to slide beneath your body. He rolls you both onto your side, keeping you connected as he curls himself slightly around you, holding you against his chest. 

He breaks the kiss only to trail his lips down, back to your neck hovering over the mark of his bite before placing one last kiss there. 

For the first time in days you don’t feel the creeping burn anywhere. The first true relief you’ve felt truly settling over you as you relax back into the body behind you. 

His arm sits snugly around your waist, his fingers tracing gentle patterns into your skin and up under your breasts before repeating. 

“Are you…” He trails off for a moment. “Did I hurt you?” 

You shake your head, turning to try and catch his eye over your shoulder, chest swelling with adoration when you see the concern flickering in his gaze. Your hand falls down to cover his own, giving it a firm squeeze. 

“I’m perfect,” you assure him, pressing a kiss to his lips before settling into him again, fingers tracing absently over his arm around you. 

“I…” Now it’s your turn to think about your words. “I’m sorry. If…what I said was - uncalled for.” Your words are stuttered and unsure. 

You don’t want to apologize for what you said, because it was the truth. But you also don’t want him to feel obligated to return your affections just because of what transpired. 

Sensing your inner turmoil, gentle fingers settle beneath your jaw, turning you to look at him once more. His brows are furrowed as he gazes down at you. 

“Does it hold truth?” he asks simply, no accusation or frustration present. 

You nod, reaching up to card a hand through his hair. “Yes I - they were true. I do…I think I’ve loved you for some time now but…” 

His eyes soften. “You were afraid.” 

You nod, eyes falling away from him in shame. But Halsin doesn’t let your feeling last long, he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek before resting his forehead against your own. 

“I must admit that I feel the same,” he says, voice a mere whisper. “You have taken my heart in your hands and held it captive in a way I haven’t experienced in my long life. I do not wish to let you go easily.” 

You smile, lips brushing his own as you speak. “Then don’t,” you say, reaching down to tug his arm tighter around you, “I’m yours. I meant that too.” 

Halsin sighs in what you assume is relief, leaning down to press a kiss to your shoulder as he adjusts to hold you closer to him as you relax in his arms. 

“And I am yours,” he tells you. “Now, sleep. This is far from over, but I will be here when you wake.” 

Earlier, the thought of it taking days for the suppressant to work from your system made fear grip your heart. But now…

Now there’s just a warm syrupy feeling that settles deep in your belly as you take his advice and let your eyes fall closed. 

Because with Halsin…you know you have nothing to fear.