#the train of thought is all over the place it's fine this is fine

[tooclevertobehappy]

Hidden in plain sight Part.2

TRIGGER WARNING: Mention of blood and injury

Clara was worried. She thought she had done a good job hiding her issues over the past few weeks, but Ingrid's visit to her house yesterday and the text she sent afterward showed that maybe she hadn’t done as well as she thought.

She’d been there when Ingrid came, hiding in her room and nursing new bruises. They had been the whole reason why she canceled dinner that night—knowing she wouldn’t have been able to hide the pain that inhabited her every move.

That’s what worried her the most. She’d done so well hiding it so far, and the possibility of it all coming to light terrified her. She couldn’t handle the thought of her teammates finding out, of them looking at her differently—like she was a shattered mirror, ready to break at any time. She wasn’t fragile.

Clara had handled everything thrown at her so far: her mom leaving, her father’s descent into drinking-induced madness, the bruises, the cuts, the pain. She had gone through it all and stood tall in the face of it. She would not allow them to see her as weak.

So, she went to training, already dressed in her kit to avoid changing in front of her teammates, armed with a dozen excuses, ready to handle Ingrid’s inevitable questioning. But Ingrid didn’t ask questions. She didn’t even come to talk to her. She stayed in front of her locker with Mapi, giving Clara only a small smile when she came in—nothing else.

It confused Clara even more. She had come into the changing room ready for war, only to be faced with peace. She didn’t know what to do.

She stayed in front of her own locker for a few minutes, trying to figure out a new plan of action for the day. After a while, she sat down and put on her football boots, her eyes darting around the room every few seconds to make sure no one was watching her before making her way out to the pitch.

Her first mistake was allowing herself to relax after avoiding questioning. Her second mistake was getting lost in her thoughts while walking out. The third and fatal mistake was walking headfirst into Alexia as she exited the facility.

The blonde captain reached out to steady her before Clara could topple them both over. Grabbing her by the shoulder, Alexia was so concerned with staying on her feet that she missed the flinch of pain on Clara’s face when her hand tightened on her shoulder.

“You okay, nena?” the captain asked.

“Y-... Yeah, I’m alright,” Clara gasped out, the words barely escaping her.

Clara wished she could smack herself. Her voice was raspy, unused to speaking so much. She knew she had made another mistake when Alexia’s brow furrowed, her eyes scanning every inch of Clara’s face.

Clara could feel her stomach drop. If she had been worried about Ingrid and Mapi finding out, she was terrified of Alexia. The captain was known for not dropping issues until she fixed them, and Clara did not want her to find out about her situation.

“Are you sure? You seem... off?” Alexia demanded.

“Yes! Yes, I’m good, fine, all good!” Clara exclaimed, her voice more frantic than she intended. When Alexia raised an eyebrow in disbelief, Clara added, “I worked on my homework a little later than usual yesterday. I’m just a little tired.”

Alexia surveyed her from head to toe, a frown etched on her features, clearly unconvinced by Clara’s explanation. But with little time before practice, the captain was obliged to let the matter go for now.

“Let’s go before we’re late, nena,” she said, placing a hand on Clara’s back and leading her toward the training field.

The two walked in silence, taking in the last few minutes of peace before the chaos of training. Jona had planned for them to face off in an 11 vs. 11 match to work on set pieces for their next match against Valencia.

Clara didn’t like this type of training. Everyone was rowdier than usual, all obsessed with winning and claiming gloating rights until the next match. She liked playing with the team but wasn’t overjoyed about facing them on the pitch.

Though the players usually tried to be more careful not to bang her around due to her age, the inevitable collision was always a concern.

She took extra care to stretch longer than usual, more aware of the general ache in her body, being careful not to injure herself so close to a game. Caro joined her, as the two usually stretched together, appreciating the last few minutes of quiet before the storm.

If Caro noticed Clara taking longer to stretch than usual, she didn’t say anything, but Clara could feel her eyes lingering on her when they joined the rest of the team.

The training went well. They practiced passes, took shots on goal, and Clara felt confident that, like always, she had managed to fool them. She even felt a little proud of herself.

But the dreaded 11 vs. 11 match was next. While Clara was confident in the team she was in, she wasn’t sure she could keep up. Normally, she would run circles around everyone, her youth granting her more stamina than her older teammates. But now, she was hurt and tired, and all she wanted to do was sleep.

The bruises littering her ribs pulled at every movement she made and rendered her unable to pull in as much air as she usually could, she found herself straining to stay concentrated as the rough stop and turns she made as she ran seemed to pull at every bruise and cut she had.

Still, she powered through. She even managed to chip the ball over Cata’s head and received a few head pats from her teammates for it. They all congregated near the goal, waiting for a corner to be taken. Though Clara wasn’t small, she wasn’t the tallest on the team, but she had a knack for heading the ball when no one expected it.

As the ball left Mariona’s feet, Clara jumped between her teammates and headed straight for the ball when she collided with something. She was pushed off her intended path, still in the air, and fell back, hitting her head directly on the goalpost. Silence overtook the pitch as the sound of Clara's head banging on the metal post seemed to ring through all of them.

For a few seconds Clara felt nothing, her eyes could barely stay open and all she could see was a blurry mess of colors, then came the pain, like a fire spreading over her head she clenched her fists, and the only sound coming out of her ended being a small whimper before her beaten down body had enough, and she felt herself slip into unconsciousness.

The whole team stared in horror at Clara’s body sprawled on the ground. The noise her head made when it collided with the post froze everyone in their place.

The trainers that were stood a couple of dozen feet away stared running, grabbing medical equipment as they went, calls for an ambulance could be heard as they approached.

But none of the players moved, all staring at Clara laying still on the ground as if moving would make the horror real.

Finally, Ingrid snapped out of her stupor and rushed to her, sliding on her knees next to Clara, her hand hesitantly reaching out to her shoulder.

“Clara? Can you hear me?” Ingrid frantically asked.

“Nena? Come on, open your eyes for me,” Mapi added. Ingrid didn’t know when her girlfriend had joined her, but she was now kneeling on Clara’s other side, holding her hand.

The small striker didn’t answer, remaining limp on the ground. When they finally managed to get her on her back, they were terrified to see the blood covering Clara’s face marring the usually joyful traits on her face, making her look younger and smaller than she truly was.

They were soon joined by the trainers, who wasted no time pushing them away from Clara. They carefully cleaned her forehead, revealing the gash responsible for the alarming amount of blood. They wrapped her forehead in gauze, shone a light in her eyes, and tried to get her to regain consciousness, but to no avail.

After a few minutes, the decision was made to immobilize Clara on a board and transport her to the hospital for a brain scan to rule out further injuries. The team stood back, watching as Clara was put in a neck brace, lifted onto the board, and strapped in before being taken away in the ambulance that had been called as soon as the trainers noticed she hadn’t gotten up.

Even though Clara was no longer on the field, the team stood in silence for a few minutes, staring at each other, wondering how everything had gone wrong in just a few seconds.

Ingrid was holding Mapi’s hand so tightly that the defender wondered if she would still have a hand by the time they let go.

Jona understood that there was no way practice could continue after Clara’s fall and dismissed the team for the day.

Ingrid and Mapi rushed to the changing room, hoping to shower and change quickly so they could head to the hospital. Neither of them was comfortable with the idea of Clara being alone and unconscious in an unfamiliar place.

On their way there, they ran into Alexia, who seemed to be rushing as much as they were.

“You’re both going to see the nena, yes?” she asked, more ordering than asking. “I’m going too, as soon as I’m showered. Leave her stuff here, and I’ll bring it to her as soon as I’m done talking to Vicky and Esmee.” While she too wanted to check on Clara, she had to make sure the other youngsters on the team were okay after witnessing the injury.

Ingrid nodded and continued dragging Mapi to the changing room. As they quickly showered and changed before getting in their car, Ingrid couldn’t help but let her mind wander to the what-ifs.

What if Clara was seriously injured? What about her brain? Why hadn’t she woken up on the field? She couldn’t help but wonder if things would’ve gone differently had they checked on her in the changing rooms, but Ingrid didn’t vocalize those thoughts aloud, knowing Mapi’s tendency to overthink and panic. But the way her hands gripped the steering wheel left no room to question how worried she was.

After what felt like hours but in reality was only about half an hour, they finally arrived at the hospital and rushed into the emergency room. They went straight to the reception and gave Clara’s name.

They exchanged worried glances when they were told to wait for someone to come and get them. Worst-case scenarios sprang to mind as they sat in the waiting room. Finally, someone called their name.

However, it wasn’t a doctor or nurse—it was a police officer.

[mycupofrum]

In the middle

Pairings: James/Sirius, James/Sirius/Lily

Rating: Explicit

Summary: No one ever told him what it was like to meet your best friend three days after he joined you and your wife in bed.

No one ever spilled the beans about the internal crisis he'd be experiencing later.

A threesome that changed everything for them. Now James and Sirius will have to deal with the tension that arose from that night.

A/N: For @narcissa-black-supermacy who gave me this idea a while ago. This is what I came up with. :D It's mostly Prongsfoot with some Jilypad flavour. Very smutty smut. Hope you enjoy it!

Snippet under the cut.

The refrigerator hums in the corner of the kitchen as James escapes from the awkward moment he just had with Sirius in the living room.

Or, when Lily said, "I think you two should talk," before abruptly Flooing away with a roar of green flame to catch up with Mary in the Leaky Cauldron. Leaving them alone. Staring at one another. Aware of each other in a new way.

All Sirius had to do was raise his brow, a gesture he's honed to perfection over the years they've known each other.

This time it suggested what now?

James couldn’t stand it.

No one ever told him what it was like to meet your best friend three days after he joined you and your wife in bed.

No one ever spilled the beans about the internal crisis he'd be experiencing later.

"Are you all right, James?" Sirius asks, having followed James to the kitchen.

"Of course," James says, staring at the pots, pans and other dishes that need to be washed. He rolls up his sleeves, places the plug into the sink and turns on the tap. After a splash of washing up liquid, he watches the foam form as if it were one of the great wonders of the world.

"It's admirable how much you care about keeping the kitchen clean."

The dry remark makes James determined not to turn around.

Seconds pass with only the sound of running water filling the room.

"Are you avoiding me because of the other night?"

"I – no. Of course not. It's what Lily wanted. She very much enjoyed it." James turns off the tap. Fuck. He doesn't want to talk about this.

"But you didn't?" Sirius is dissecting James's problem question by question, like he always does when faced with an issue to solve.

"I didn't say that," James mutters. He picks up the sponge and begins to wash the dried up tomato sauce from the pan. It was Lily's idea to invite Sirius over for dinner that night, and they enjoyed an excellent pasta Bolognese before she mysteriously left.

"Or maybe it bothers you because you did enjoy it?"

James drops the sponge into the sink and huffs as he searches for it through the foam.

"I don't understand. Why would it bother me? Nothing bothers me. I'm perfectly fine." He finds the sponge again and starts to scrub the pan vigorously.

"You don't like the implication."

Sirius always knows exactly where James's train of thought is going, and it's times like these when James truly wishes his best friend didn't know him so well.

"There's no implication."

"Really?" Sirius's voice is softer now. "One woman and two men. There's an implication. You do the math."

"I'm not –" James says, unable to finish the sentence. He rinses the pan, sets it aside to dry, and stands stiffly, clutching the kitchen counter.

"I'm not into blokes." There, he said it. It's what he's been telling himself over and over again for the last few days. It makes sense.

"Neither am I," says Sirius, approaching James from behind.

A moment later, hands come on the counter beside James, and a warm body leans against him. Sirius's breath tickles James's neck, giving him goosebumps.

"Not much anyway," Sirius murmurs.

James's heart jumps at that.

"Not much?" he repeats, his throat dry like sand.

"Sometimes I make exceptions." Sirius speaks in a low tone that rattles something inside James.

Read more on AO3.

[whisperofthewaves]

considering my mental state three hours before the days-long wedding event starts, I don't think I'd have survived being upper class in previous centuries when you had to attend balls and constantly call on people.

[libraford]

It is possible to interact with people whom share opposing views and no this is not about pineapple on pizza. In fact, it is imperative that you learn how to be civil with some people who you may find difficult to agree with.

At work, Youngin would often tell me that the guy that trained him (Ginger) was a misogynist. I had never met Ginger, and I had very little to say on this matter. But I would ask Youngin some questions about him because I like to know the other seasonal workers a little. I ask about Ginger- first words from Youngin's mouth 'he's a misogynist.'

I asked him why he thought that. (There are many misogynists at this location, as someone that is woman-shaped I see it often, I am comparing notes.)

"We were on our way to a location and a driver was going really slowly. When he got around her he said 'fucking women drivers.' Like he was going out of his way to prove that the driver was a woman."

The last month or so, Youngin worked exclusively with me because I knew that it was a matter of time before he said something that pissed off one of the guys. He was not going to get along with people here, it just wasn't happening.

When he left, everyone wanted to know what he was like to work with. And I finally got to have a conversation with Ginger.

"I'd like to ask you something a little strange- he said that on his first day there was an issue with a driver going slowly. Can you tell me about that?"

"Oh yeah! She was going super slow and when I got around her I said 'yup- little old lady driving.' And he was like 'what's that supposed to mean?' And I just kind of dropped it, but I hear he was saying I was a misogynist over it?"

So I give Youngin some grace because he's young, he's got a social bubble that's very liberal, he has not met very many people that weren't part of that kind of scene. But he often talked about how every person here has said something that pissed him off and he seemed really surprised that I (woman-shaped queer liberal) would be okay working with all these sexist homophobes.

And I give grace to Ginger because he had no reason to think that his words would be interpreted like that. What he was saying was normal to him. This is... somewhat the culture of landscaping jobs. And its not even close to the worst thing I've heard out of these dudes mouths. (Literally had one of the dudes comment that he would like to 'motorboat' one of the pedestrians.)

It was weird for Youngin to carry that with him for the whole two months that he worked here, over a very... small comment.

Every single person I've worked with here has said something that has given me pause and I tuck it away to rant about later and then I let it go. If it gets out of hand, I talk to one of the bosses about it. I know how to contact HR. I came into this place knowing that I was going to disagree politically with most of the people that I work with because I'm coming in to a culture that is fundamentally different from my own.

If I am being frank, I find the overt bigotry somewhat better than the corporate bullshit of 'we value your contributions, but won't be granting your accommodations request out of fairness to other workers' or the glass cliff or literally being fired for my sexual orientation but phrased with 'oh you just weren't a good fit for the culture here.' I at least know what I'm getting into when I come to work. I know what not to talk about. Last time I thought I was safe to talk about something queer with my boss she blindsided me with some transphobic garbage.

Its admirable to stick up for the marginalized people in your life, but part of changing minds is knowing the time and the place to comment. I think I've changed more minds at this warehouse by being a visibly out lesbian at work than I have by making carefully crafted speeches.

That is fine. It is fine to disagree. Sometimes you have to work with racists, homophobes, and assholes. That is part of being an adult. You talk about things like... sports or TV or weather or some cool bug you saw. Finding common ground with people who are different from you in many ways is an important part of socialization and it sucks to think you have anything in common with a jackass but look- you're spending 7-ish hours with these people and at some point some of them are going to say stupid shit. You are going to say stupid shit also. I have said my fair share of stupid shit. Deal with the fact that you're all stupid shits.

And for fuck's sake, wear your hardhat.

[irisinluv]

Isekaied as the Yandere Villain!? Pt 2

Part one

It was almost 2 minutes before I realized I was still dragging the crown prince behind me. I quickly dropped his hand and looked at him, not able to hide the embarrassment on my face. Listen- I’m committed to the bit. I WILL be the crazy jealous fiancé. But… I’m still human ok. I just dragged a full grown man down several halls and a flight of stairs while I spaced out thinking about how I’m gonna buy my cat premium wet food once I get back home to her.

It’s fine, I’m not flustered at spacing out about my cat, my characters just flustered because she’s been holding the hand of the man she’s obsessed with, that’s all!

“Well…. Did you still want to dine and take that walk?”

I expected him to scold me for my mistreatment of Cressida, grow irritated from me dragging him along like this. Instead, he chuckles and threads his arm in mine, and begins escorting me down the hall.

“Absolutely, have you dined outside by the roses yet? There’s this lovely pavilion that I am eager to hear your thoughts on.”

And that’s how I found myself under an impressive array of roses, all trained up and around a cozy dining area, creating a canopy of green and pink over an intimate tea table. The food was equally impressive, I had to keep reminding myself that the other me is used to this lavish lifestyle, to not gawk at the fancy tiny sandwiches and deserts.

“Well? Is everything to your liking? ”

I’m going off script here, how am I supposed to know how the villainess would react to a romantic scene like this?? If my “evil crazy” side isn’t supposed to be directed at him, and she’s usually kinda distant and unsure around him…. That means I should probably respond pretty curtly, polite, yet not really engaging. But…. I’ve already messed that up…. I guess I can be more genuine when it’s the two of us like this. He can think that this version of me is the facade, that I’m pretending to be pleasant, and then will start to see what a jerk “I” truly am when Cressida’s around. Besides…. I almost feel bad for the villainess. She really just seems like she was shy. Who knows- maybe, if given the opportunity, she really would have opened up more. It’s clear she loved the prince, and just didn’t know how to show it. So, with that thought, I made up my mind.

“It’s breathtaking! Roses are my favorite flower, and I’ve never seen so many kinds in bloom at once…. Plus the food and company leave little to be desired.”

There you go- slip in some subtle flirting! I’m not quite sure what time period this is supposed to be, but I get the impression flirting as bit more high class here, and I think I can have some fun with that.

“I’m glad, to be honest I was a bit flustered asking you to dine with me… you caught me quite off guard today, but in a good way.” He reaches his hand across the table and places it on my own, “I’d like to do this more often, you and I. I feel like the confines of our current arrangement have left us practically strangers, despite being engaged for several months already. I’m enjoying just being companionable with you, even if it’s just existing comfortably in the same room.”

Ohhhh, I know I’m the villain in this story but I can’t help but root for him- what a sweetheart! It’s so obvious he’s been lonely, I can’t wait for him and Cressida to fall in love and have a couple of kids that they’ll spoil rotten. And in the meantime…. Maybe I do have a bit of evil in me, because I’m going to selfishly enjoy this handsome man treating me to lunches under roses and reading in cozy libraries while I can.

“I know exactly how you feel your highness. Now, you mentioned a walk?”

We spent the afternoon laughing and chatting, and it felt nice to chat without worrying too much about my role. He asked me about that book I picked out earlier, and listened attentively as I caught him up with where I’m at in the plot. In turn, I asked about what papers he’s been signing, documents he’s been drafting, etc.

The only thing I had to do was send glares to any young ladies we passed, settling my hand on his arm possessively, and I saw their eyes widen and faces disappear behind fans as they whisper to one another. I can picture this illustrated in a manhwa- the nasty princess sinking her claws into the gullible prince… hopefully all these ladies will start gossiping and we can really cement this evil persona of mine now that Cressida’s here.

When we returned to our separate apartments, I explored my rooms a bit until servants came to get me ready for dinner, and I slipped back into the frigid bitch persona. The servant girls dressed me in a slightly stuffy gown, but I had to admit, I looked gorgeous. I sat stiff and straight as they did my hair, forcing myself to be the very picture of cold indifference. I then dismissively thanked them for their help, then sat there awkwardly as they stared at me like I was crazy.

Ohhhh shit…. The original story hadn’t prepared me for this. My character was a villain, yes, but a side character for the most part! How was she supposed to act towards her servants? I went over what I knew- the novel showed the villainess alone quite often, usually obsessing over Eric and plotting/stalking. It showed her with Eric, and how distant and awkward their relationship was when together. And then of course the numerous scenes with Cressida where the Villainess did all sorts of heinous things to the sweet girl. But… it never depicted her with servants, or even any friends or other nobles. Just… Eric and Cressida. Was other me not actually a bitch all the time? Am I being unnecessarily rude right now? Oh god I’m such an idiot.

The story is told through Cressida’s point of view- of course there’s more depth to my own character than I initially thought! The Villianess must be a misunderstood introvert! Unsure of how to act around her crush, she’s fiercely insecure and jealous of this new girl who doesn’t struggle the same way she does. When she notices the prince slipping from her grasp, she acts out against Cressida because she can’t bear to lose Eric!

As someone’s who’s worked minimum wage jobs and struggled with social anxiety most of my life, I try to be nice to the people just working to survive, but here I am acting like these poor women are the dirt beneath my shoe…. Ok. Um. Well they’re still standing there in shock, I can fix this….

“You really did a lovely job… my hair has never looked so gorgeous, you’re truly talented! And I think the prince will be very pleased with this choice of ribbon!”

There- I was nicer, and I brought it back to Eric, so I’m still the lovesick fiancé whose entire world is waiting for her in the dining room. I frowned as the servants scuttled out of the room with hurried excuses, all of them looking like they were about to faint. Damn it… I can’t believe I misread the relationship between us. I probably just ruined their night by being uncharacteristically rude. I’ve gotta learn their names next time…. Maybe ask them to help me eat some fancy pastries as an apology…?

I didn’t know it, but while I was lamenting how wrong I was about the Villainess’ character, the servants were all gossiping to the others about what had just transpired.

“You’re telling me she said THANK YOU!?”

“Yes!!! And then you should have seen how nervous she got! She just rambled, blurting out such a sweet compliment, and she even tied it back to the prince!”

“I had no idea how precious she was… I can’t believe I never realized she’s just shy! In a new place, all alone aside from her new fiancé…. Who I gather she’s got a bit of a crush on! Poor dear.”

“Ohh our sweet girl, I’m sure it must be hard bonding with the prince, when all you do is sit yards apart and hardly speak …”

“Well I may have some news about that… and it’s no wonder she was a bit flustered today, because I saw the two of them in the gardens today! They were both nothing but smiles- absolutely smitten with one another!”

“Such a lovely girl, and we never knew it all this time!”

Apparently, I had it backwards. The real villainess truly was a 2D, basic character. She was insecure and possessive over the prince, bullying Cressida half to remind her who Eric belonged to, half for the fun of it. But she didn’t let on to anyone about the true depth of her love for him. She didn’t gossip to her handmaid, didn’t ask the servants which dress he would like better. Simply acted as if they did not exist, hardly saying a word to them.

While I thought my blunt “thank you” was colder than they were used to, and then tried to smooth things over…. It was more words than they’d heard from me in the whole time I’d lived in the palace. They lapped it up and declared me their own shy little dove after that.

When I arrived to dinner, I realized why daily dinners weren’t exactly a bonding activity for the villainess and Eric. The table was massive, and only held two chairs, one at either end. It felt so…. Cold?

Eric had beat me there, and quickly stood up from his seat, waiting until I sat and a servant pushed in my chair to retake his own seat. He smiled at me and said,

“Good evening, princess.”

He had to project his voice slightly. It wasn’t like he was shouting or being loud, it was just the manner of speaking you use when talking to an elderly relative, clearer, and enunciating better so they could hear you.

I replied back, projecting my voice similarly, and found the conversation was, in fact, more awkward than it had been earlier. We ate our food mostly in silence, occasionally one of us would say something and the other would stop moving their utensils on their plate, listening closer as they ask,

“What’s that?”

By the time dinner was over and we each went to bed, I felt drained. I could have just been louder I suppose- but it’s so hard to keep up a conversation like that. I know we get along- we had chatted all afternoon after all. But some part of me realized it’s probably good to keep a bit of distance between us, even if I’ve rewritten things to be a bit chummier between the two of us. Cressida needs to swoop in and steal him from me… and my job is still to leave that room for her to do so.

It’s hard trying to be someone else, yet also making sure you lead the plot in the right direction- it’s exhausting! I feel like both director and actress!

It’s with this in mind that I launch myself into the softest bed I’d ever felt, and passed out. My first day as princess consort, the Yandere fiancé, complete.

While I was getting acquainted with my feather bed, Eric was speaking with the head waitstaff.

“Yes, tomorrow, would you mind adjusting the seating situation? I’d like for the princess consort and I to be closer together from now on. Yes, and ask my assistant to arrange my schedules like so, I’ve detailed it here. Thank you.”

At the same time, Cressida was recounting her run in with the prince and I to her handmaiden as she finishing unpacking and settling into her family’s guest apartments. Which, unbeknownst to me… was right across the hall.

Aaaa! You survived your first day! And look at you- doing suuuuch a good job staying true to character. Nothing could go wrong… right?

Tag list for the series;

@bitternsweet @tonightwrites @confused-they @lanxianschoenheit @poptrim @siriuslyobsessedwithfiction @one-really-annoying-tree-rat @anonymousdisco @forbidden-sunlight

Tag list closed! Stay tuned for part 3!

[canthelpit0]

Intimate

Pairing: Matt x Reader

Wordcount: 2.1k +

In wich: matt has a borderline obsession with cock warming

Warnings: smut, cock warming, p in v, use of y/n, 1st pov, praise kink, name calling (slut), pet names, unprotected, creampie

(A/N: English is not my first language! Also this song has like barely anything to do w the plot, I just feel like that’s the vibe. This is sort of like a blurb. Hope you guys like it <3)

One of the considerably weird things Matt is into is: cock warming.

I clench at the thought trying to focus on my history homework.

I’ve known Matt for practically all my life. We’ve always been close and no conversation between us was ever awkward.

Matt didn’t seem like the type to be into that sort of stuff. But one day, when, we were hanging out and cuddling like we were normally, I felt a hardness at my butt.

When I turned back to look at him he was blushing. Matt had his arms wrapped around my waist, spooning me.

After I asked him what that is, he responded with a question. “Can I..?” He trailed off and I wasn’t catching on to his train of thought.

“What? you want to fuck?” I huff rolling my eyes…not that I would be against it.

“No.” He said defensively squeezing my sides. “Can I just put it in?” Matt asked shyly.

I paused, But eventually complied. With the duvet being over us it shouldn’t be too awkward. He shuffled out of his sweatpants and pulled mine down too.

And before I knew it his finger was inside of me and I was wet.

After a few moments I felt the head of his dick press against me before feeling his entire length slide into me.

I never thought he’d be into that, but even further, I didn’t think that I’d like it too.

I shift feeling the angle change.

“Y/n/n, can you stop moving.” Matt huffs, his words sounding passive aggressive. He puts one of his hands on my hips to prevent as much movement as possible, his other hand still clutching his phone.

I clench again at the tone of his voice, slamming my pen down.

Ever since that day, when this first started off, I started to sit on him more often. Whether it was while we were cuddling or just mindlessly hanging out. We’re not necessarily friends with benefits tho.

I guess he just likes the feeling… but so do I.

It was bad, like we hung out so much Chris and Nick started to make joking remarks about it.

About us hanging out so much that is, not the… whatever we’re doing.

Like it was so bad that practically every time we were alone somewhere private, I was probably sitting on his dick.

It feels so intimate and good, and if we still have time after, he’ll rail me.

But I’m saying that when we’re at home doing homework, I’m sitting on his lap. Or when cuddling or sleepovers. Or even when we go get fast food to eat in the parking lot at night. I’ll climb over the middle console and sit down on it.

I was never a skirt person, but I started to wear skirts more often just for the easier access.

I could go hours just calmly sitting on it.

But sometimes after a while I would get frustrated.

I try to grind into him, Matt still holding me in place as much as he can.

“What? You wanna get yourself off on my dick?” He huffs. His grip on my hip gets harder making me whine, while his other hand still holds his phone.

He’d been scrolling through TikTok and various other social media while I was trying to get all of my homework done.

And it’s been probably over an hour now and I was getting frustrated from all the homework. doing math first was definitely a mistake.

And while on a normal day I would be fine with the intimacy and wouldn’t be trying to get myself off, the homework today was frustrating. And since Matt was already balls deep inside of me, I might as well.

He leans over putting his phone on my desk. With the movement his hand on my hip loosens giving me the opportunity to start to slightly ride him.

“Fuck-“ i sigh. I lean forward on my arms, trying to get as much friction as I can, both on my sweet spot and also my clit.

I hear Matt’s low groan. And suddenly his hands are on my hips again, holding me in place.

“Y/n I swear, i will make you cum over and over again until you’re seeing fucking stars if you don’t fucking stop right now and go back to your homework.”

His tone is authoritative and so hot. Why was he saying that like it would be such a bad thing anyway.

“Matt please.” I whine.

Sometimes Matt would get frustrated and fuck me while I wasn’t even paying him any mind, and sometimes it was the other way around.

He huffs letting go of my hips. Matt leans back as he just watched me and my every move.

I let out a shaky breath once again, leaning forward more to lift myself better.

“Fucking slut, getting yourself off on your best friends dick.” He rolls his eyes in exasperation.

His hands go to my waist, assisting my movements now instead of stopping me.

“If you cum I’m still gonna Make you warm me.” He warns his tone assertive.

Matt holds me in place for a few seconds and scoots the chair back. I sigh leaning forward, using my forearms to prop me up, before starting to ride him again.

His eyes were heavy lidded, his mouth dropped in a silent moan while he watches me.

He somehow seemed way less sensitive than me. But I can literally feel the knot starting to tie In My stomach just waiting to snap.

By this point I was panting and Matt was letting out some heavy breaths too.

“Fuck- Matt, Matt” I whine his name my voice pitching higher as i keep getting closer.

“You close baby?” He breaths out keeping his hands on my hips for stability.

I let out a sharp breath letting my head drop forward as I keep up the angle and speed up in order to reach my climax faster.

“Yeah.” One of my hands go down to my clit to rub it, resulting in my other arm having to hold me up alone.

“Come then.” He demands, his voice sounding cocky. I can hear him breathe heavily and bite his lip to keep quiet.

With his hands tightening on my hips, I feel the knot in my stomach snap.

I let out a loud moan, piercing through the, otherwise, mostly quiet room.

I sit down again my pussy convulsing around his cock.

I sigh, trying to calm down again. Matt’s hands rub my sides, holding my back to his chest and mumbling sweet nothings into my ear.

“You good?” He asks after I mildly catch my breath. I lean more into him, my eyes fluttering closed as I mumble an agreement.

“You gonna go back to your homework now, or…?” He trails off waiting for me to answer.

“No” I breathe out and slightly look over my shoulder to make eye contact with him.

He lets his huge grin take over his features. He picks me up gently, making me wince, to wich he whispers encouraging praises into my ear.

My back makes contact with my bed. I sigh at the feeling of the soft sheets under me. And I watch as Matt hurriedly takes off his shirt.

I was still wearing my mini skirt and a long sleeve shirt, but Matt didn’t look like he was going to take them off. The access was easy, so really, why do the extra work.

Matt rubs my lower stomach, while his other hand holds his dick. He glides it up my folds before slipping it back into me. I whine at the feeling throwing my head back into the mattress.

I’m still sensitive from my previous orgasm and also from the hour of cock warming’s

It wasn’t like he wasn’t sensitive too. I could see him physically hold back from releasing right then and there.

Our eyes stay locked while he starts to rock his hips against me. I can feel him hit that spot in me that makes pure euphoria shoot through my entire body.

Despite not being labeled, it always felt so intimate with Matt.

Maybe it was because most of the time it was literally just cock warming and nothing else. But sometimes, when it did come to the actual intercourse - penetration type of thing, it still felt intimate.

“So good for me baby.” He breaths out. Our eyes stay locked, my mouth dropped in quiet moans.

“Fuck- you like being filled?” He chuckles. His hand stays on my lower abdomen, pressing down slightly to feel himself.

I close my eyes briefly trying to respond, but the way his hips snap into me, and the way he still manages to make this feel sensual, has my head fuzzy.

“Fuck..” Matt breaths out his eyes staying locked on my face. “Too fucked out to answer now?”

All I can do is whine out his name and moan loudly, and he takes pride in that. I know he does. I can see it in his eyes.

“You wanna be fucking full all the time, don’t you baby?” Matt taunts, somehow speeding up even more.

I clench around him my legs going stiff at the constant and heavy stimulation.

Matt notices and readjusts, picking up my legs further so they’re on his shoulders before he picks up pace again.

“Close” I whine out, I can feel the knot in my stomach getting tighter by the second, threatening to snap anytime now.

“Good girl” he hums. Matt’s fingers find their way towards my clit as he starts to vigorously rub it.

“Oh god-“ I moan loudly throwing my head back, my eyes shutting tightly as I try not to get overwhelmed, even tho i already am.

“Eyes on me.” Matt speaks lowly also panting. His movements pick up pace getting more rough and messy, indicating that he’s close too.

My eyes snap open, immediately meeting his. And as soon as they do, I feel my body convulse, my orgasm washing over me like a wave. But despite that, I try to keep my eyes on Matt as best as I can.

“So pretty.” He breathes out harshly and before either of us know it, he gives me one last thrust and fills me up.

I pant, trying to catch my breath. I feel a thin layer of sweat coat my skin, but despite that, I love this feeling.

This post orgasmic state was sending me into almost as much euphoria as the sex itself.

I watch through lazy, heavy-lidded eyes as Matt sits up straighter, moving my legs from off of his shoulders.

“You wanna clean up or sleep like this sweetheart?” He asks tilting his head. Matt was trying to contain a goofy smile.

“Just..” I trail off and let out a breath. Damn I didn’t realize just how out of breath I am.

“Just lay down.” I breathe out.

He licks his lips his eyes wandering from my face to my body and how it’s still clothed.

“You wanna sleep with clothes, or…” he trails off. Matt’s eyes come to meet mine again with a playful glint.

“Matt, I don’t care” I say exasperated.

“I wanna cuddle?” He says like I said we wouldn’t. I huff a slight laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation at hand.

Matt huffs trying and failing to hold back a smile. He gently and slowly pulls out in order to not hurt me. But I still wince from the over stimulation.

He pulls the skirt back down and than reaches for the zipper. He pulls the skirt off tossing it to the floor carelessly.

He then reaches for my long sleeve shirt. I sit up slightly so he can take that, and my bra also off.

Now being nude under him, he looks satisfied. He hums in approval and wordlessly lays down next to me, before I feel his arms go around my waist.

“You think you can warm me, baby?” He whisper sweetly into my ear. I feel a shiver run down my spine from his tone of voice. My eyes shut I take in his silk like words.

“Corse.” I breathe out pushing my hips back into him to tease him.

Matt chuckles lowly. I feel his length slide through my folds. Still being soaked in our combined juices, it was fairly easy for him to slip back in, not that it didn’t make me moan.

I felt way too sensitive, but like hell would I ever say no to this.

Matt chuckles at the low moan I let out. He has his arm spread out so I can lay on it his other arm around my waist. “You do like being full?” He asks in fake shock.

“You were the one that started this tho?” I question right back not moving at all. Simply keeping my eyes closed and enjoying the closeness and intimacy.

“Touché.”

Masterlist

A /N: sorry for being gone for so long guys. Schools been overwhelming. But yeah, I hope you guys liked this. Requests and asks are open & feedback is always appreciated 💕

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo , @slut4chriss , @mattsturniololoverr , @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n , @st7rnioioss , @t1llysblogs , @nonat-111 , @blahbel668 , @rockstarchr1s , @sturnsintrouble , @nayveetbhh , @tillies33ssss , @sturncakez , @strnilo , @somegirlfromasgard , @mattslovelygf , @sturnsmaeve , @sturnstvr , @lucianastrun

[papayapiastri]

toying with you.

warnings: smut, thigh-riding. sprinkle of angst.

pairing: LN x Reader

———

it wasn’t often that you watched him train. but today was different. today; he asked you to watch.

No. He instructed you to watch.

Lando could tell something was off with you this morning. When he asked what was wrong you simply said ‘I’m fine’ or ‘don’t worry about it’.

He always knew when you were lying, even by the slightest of ways. Whether it was the way you made your breakfast; swift and without care, or the way you spoke with haste instead of your usual attentiveness.

He always noticed.

But it was just one of those days. no rhyme or reason why you were agitated.

You just were.

Unfortunately, Lando was stubborn and unrelenting. He wasn’t going to stop hounding you until you told him what was wrong. Even going as far as to wrapping his arms around your waist; pulling your frame into his own knowing how addicted you are to the comfort of his hold.

But instead of crawling into his embrace, you pulled back, resting your arms back at your sides with a grumbled sigh.

seriously lan, Im fine, just leave me alone.

As soon as the harsh words flew from your lips, a pang of guilt rang deep within your chest. Lando’s eyes flickered with a mixture of hurt and confusion, you could tell that he was contemplated whether it was something he did; whether it was somehow his fault, however, you didn’t have the energy to deal with it at the moment. Instead, you just walked away before things got worse.

It wasn’t until hours later that you started to feel like yourself again; building up the courage to go seek him out. When you found him, an unsure smile reached your lips as he sat comfortably in the living room, watching a show you couldn’t place. You tried making small talk, asking what he wanted for dinner, asking what he was watching…

…and you were met with nothing.

So many questions, yet after your little outburst this morning, it seemed Lando gave you the cold shoulder for the rest of the day. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him when you were met with the silence, or the slight shrug of his shoulders.

Childish. yet, you knew you deserved it.

So, you were definitely surprised when you received his text later that evening.

I’ll be in the gym at 7. join me

You stared at the screen. Puzzled. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard; wanting to send a plethora of questions. Never had Lando asked you to join him for his gym sessions. He flippantly claimed you were too much of a distraction.

But before you could respond, a tiny speech bubble bounced across the screen.

wasn’t a question y/n. be there at 7.

Your eyebrows furrowed. no emojis, no x’s or o’s that would be littered through his usual texts.

Just a direct instruction that you felt obligated to follow.

So here you were, attempting to silence your racing thoughts around why Lando asked you to be here. He hadn’t said a word to you since you entered the room. Your skirt delicately brushed against your skin as you watched him; your legs bouncing anxiously as you sat there. waiting. patiently.

You tried distracting yourself with the way the warm sun sizzled against your skin, painting the room with a golden hue. Or the way the heat caused droplets of sweat to hypnotically fall from Lando’s messy curls. Or the way your eyes naturally gazed down to his arms; veins tensed as his hands strained against the grip of the weight above him.

it worked for a moment. that simple distraction.

but now, you found your thoughts consumed by something else…

your thoughtful gaze found itself trailing down, noticing how lando’s shirt rode up ever so slightly; exposing his v-line.

While on a usual day you would be salivating at the outline of his boxers, today, all you could focus on were his thighs as they flexed with even the slightest of movements.

You couldn’t help as your stomach fluttered with butterflies at the sight.

stop it. You mentally chastised yourself for objectifying something that was so inherently innocent, but you couldn’t help yourself. there was something so lewd, about the picture in front of you.

The sudden sound of Lando’s trainer snapped you out of your trance. Heat rushed to your cheeks, painting ur skin in a rosy pink hue as you forced yourself to look away. You weren’t about to get caught staring; especially by Lando’s trainer.

A moment passed as they exchange pleasantries, a day well done apparently. You were too distracted to notice, but at least Lando’s tone seemed light as he sent his trainer off with a curt grin.

It wasn’t long before you felt a curious set of eyes fall on you. Analysing. Reading you like you were an open page of his favourite book. “Seems I’m more of a distraction than you are.” He murmured bemusingly “Something on your mind?”

Your eyes snapped back to his, surprise painting your features at Lando’s unexpected blasé nature despite of everything that happened this morning. You shook your head; lazily leaning back onto your seat and crossing your arms in annoyance. “Care to explain why you’ve been ignoring me all day?”

With a click of his tongue, Lando shook his head “Your words y/n, you wanted to be left alone so—" his voice trailed off for a small moment.

“I left you alone.” He shrugged.

You hummed in response. You should have felt content with his response. It made sense. Yet, a part of you still felt jaded and hurt by his cold demeanour towards you.

As if immediately recognising your hesitancy, a tired sigh fell from Lando’s lips. “Come here.” He murmured, extending his hand towards you. Curiously, you pushed yourself off of the couch with a huff, taking small, uncertain strides towards Lando as he eyed you with sincerity.

Before you could react, Lando roughly grabbed your wrist, forcefully tugging your body down to his own as he placed you on his thigh. You squealed at the sudden gesture.

“Lando!” you scolded as strong arms snaked its way around your waist in an attempt to steady you and ur pulsing heart. With a hand to your chest, you attempted to calm your uneven breaths.

Lando couldn’t help the hearty chuckle that bellowed from his chest, not even bothering to hide the smirk that was plastered across his face. He loved seeing you flustered in every way imaginable.

“Sorry.” He muttered nonchalantly. Clearly unapologetic as he brought his hand to your face; his fingers brushing away the stray hairs that found themselves out of place, instead, placing them neatly behind your ear. “Now—” He began, his tone shifting slightly more serious, “Want to tell me what’s been happening in that pretty little head of yours?”

You could barely register the words that were said. Instead, all you could focus on was the friction that bound tight at your core, the thin lace of your panties that suddenly strained against Lando’s skin.

He seemed unaware, still distracted by your hair. the very hair you wish he’d bury his hands in and tug on the strands; maybe he’d call you a little brat for your behaviour this morning—

You silently wondered if he could see right through you. What you were thinking. The fact that even the smallest of movements could crumble your resolve.

“Y/n?”

Your eyes widened as they snapped to his. His smirk had fallen to a boyish grin as his gaze swirled with newfound amusement. He tilted his head, trailing his fingers from your hair to your jawline. With a hum, he spoke lowly, “If you’re not interested in talking about this morning, why don’t you tell me what’s got you so flustered?”

Lando’s jaw clenched as he assessed you. every movement, every flinch. Anything that could give away the clear desire that you felt building at your core.

You sighed heavier than expected. “I’m not flustered. I’m annoyed.”

“With me?” He tilted his head curiously whilst his fingers continued their exploration down the side of your throat, crossing over every divet before letting his hand rest behind your neck. His grip was light, but noticeable. Your skin exploded in goosebumps at the anticipation of something more. You wanted, needed, something more.

“Especially with you.”

“Mm…” he hummed approvingly, wetting his lips as his other hand began its teasing assault on your hips, drawing up your skirt ever so slightly as he tightened his grip. “Anything I can do to fix that?”

You shook your head. attempting to use one of your hands to push yourself off of him. This time, you weren’t surprised at the sudden clutch of your wrist. However, you were surprised by how easy it was for Lando to pull you further into him. The harsh movement causing his muscles to flex, sending pulsating waves to your core. You bite the inside of cheek, attempting to hold in the whimpers that threatened to escape, but nothing could hide the rosiness that burned across your skin. A constant reminder of Lando’s effect over your body.

“Are you sure y/n?” he teased, softly grabbing the side of your cheeks with his index finger and thumb before bringing his face close to your ear.

“you must be so...” you could barely hear his voice as he murmured sweetly against your skin, trailing soft fleeting kisses trailing down your neck. “frustrated.”

Your hands curl around his shirt, gripping the cotton as you attempted to ignore the delicious assault. “You’re toying with me?” you mutter, taking in shallow breaths as your eyes flutter closed; your senses consumed by Lando’s every movement.

You feel him smile against your skin “only because you’re letting me.”

“Admit it.” he whispered, leaving lingering kisses across your collarbone. The feeling of his lips hovering against your sensitive skin sent electric shocks down your spine. So much so, you didn’t even notice how your back arched; your head tipping ever so slightly to give lando access to even more of you.

He sighed longingly against you “Spending the whole day without me to get you off. You were practically drooling the minute you saw me.”

Embarrassed couldn’t begin to describe how you were feeling, but it was especially made worse by the amused laugh that reverberated from the man in front of you. “Talk to me baby— ‘miss your sweet voice.”

“What’s got you so needy for me?”

There was no hiding from Lando. You could either tell the truth and face the potential lifetime of embarrassment that would soon follow, or, lie, and not get what you wanted.

What you really needed.

Let’s face it. you weren’t in the mood to be denied.

not tonight, atleast.

“Your thighs.” You murmured. Barely a whisper, barely a breath. You wondered if he even heard you. especially since he didn’t seem to react to your words. Instead, his chaste kisses travelled up your neck; one planted softly on your cheek before reaching messily to the side of your lips.

Lando pulled back for a moment, shamelessly admiring you. While you averted his gaze, you took a peek at him through your eyelashes; attempting to fight the thrashing heat against your skin. “There we go.” He hummed approvingly. “Was that so hard?” He tilted his head, a familiar sense of mischief dancing on his features.

But a moment of silence followed. Any sense of urgency that Lando had seemingly dissipated as he lazily leaned back, continuing to assess your features. His hands clutched around your wrists; taking away any possible chance of escape.

“Well?” You snapped. all this work to get you to admit something so humiliating and depraved and now… nothing?

“Well what?” he questioned with a scoff. “You think I’m going to help you?” You could tell he was still toying with you. Clearly, he was still mad about this morning.

“I’m just respecting your wishes baby.”

What a childish little prick— Heat returned to your cheeks, as you realised what he was doing. you tried averting his gaze, pulling your hands back so you could leave, but you couldn’t, he was too strong. Any tug at your wrists would be met with him pulling you back tenfold.

With a click of his jaw and a boyish grin he cut the tension with his teasing voice, “Come on baby; you don’t need to ask, just take what you need from me. Anything to make you feel better.” His tone dripped with mockery, there was something about it that felt so degrading, almost as if he enjoyed seeing you clearly suffer; clearly needing more than what he was willing to give.

You shook your head: your lips in an ‘o’ shape as you sat there in disbelief. a small moment passed, one that felt like a lifetime.

Fuck it. If he’s so adamant on playing this game with you, then you might as well win it.

“You’re fucking insufferable.” you murmur, forcing yourself out his grip to plant your hands into his curly strands; leaning your body further into him and positioning yourself perfectly against his thigh.

Pulling at the strands, a low groan rumbled from Lando’s chest. The sound sending waves of pure euphoria through your body as you repeated the same assault he practiced on you; nipping and pulling at his skin with each intense kiss.

You whined lowly as you felt Lando’s hand begin to travel under your shirt, his cool fingers causing goosebumps to reappear on your skin as he slowly traced across your stomach; your chest; before roughly gripping your breast. it didn’t take long for your body to respond to his, melding into one another.

You needed him. His fingers, his tongue. his cock. anything that could help release the tension that pooled at your core. Hiding your face into the nape of his neck, you planted small kisses against his skin; revelling in the faint oud smell of his cologne; continuing to roll your hips against him to aid the lingering ache between your legs.

“Has my baby become a slut for me just from my thighs?” You hear Lando tease yet his voice sounded far as you remained trapped in the sensations of his hands. His fingers drew hypnotic circles around your nipple as his other hand harshly tugged at your hips, rhythmically following your own movements. For a small moment. You wondered whether Lando knew how strong he actually was, whether was aware that the tight grip he had on you were would leave haunting bruises on your skin the next day. marking you as his, and only his.

You pulled away from him, causing his fingers to fall from your delicate skin. You look down, frustration clearly plastered across your features. “please lan.” you whimper softly. You felt your pleasure building ever-so-slightly; waves of heat radiating across your whole body yet—

it wasnt enough, it would never be enough. You knew that. He knew that.

“Please what?” his mocking tone sent a shiver coursing through your spine as he tilted his head. - slight curve teased his lips. “You had so much to say this morning, but now, it seems you can barely find your words.”

“Stop punishing me.” You grumbled.

“Punishing you?”

“I’m not punishing you y/n. you’re the one who told me you wanted to be left alone.” He said matter-of-factly. Even so, his eyes lingered downwards, watching as his fingers trailed over your exposed thighs, across the soft skin before planting himself right between your legs, tracing over the delicate fabric; hovering over the sensitive nerves that ached to be touched.

“Look at you. you’ve made such a mess for me already and I’ve barely even touched you baby.” His other hand rested around the nape of your neck; his thumb gently tapping the side of your throat, as if he was teasing the thought of tightening his grip.

You hated it. You hated how humiliated you felt. Lando had you melting on top of him, writhing in the most degrading way imaginable without so much as a thought of release for you.

You turned your head slightly, a breathy sigh leaving your lips at the realisation.

“Y/n.” Lando called knowingly; pulling your focus back to him before your thoughts could sabotage you further.

Your attention snapped back to his as his eyes trailed longingly over your features. “if you need me, you better start using your words. no more hiding in that pretty little head of yours.”

it was funny that even in such a intimate moment Lando tried to counsel you, make you feel better; safe, supported. He’d been that way your whole relationship; which only made you feel even more guilty for snapping at him this morning.

fine. he wants me to use my words. so be it.

You pondered his words with a small smile before leaning in, wrapping your arms around his tense shoulders. Your lips brushed against his in the slightest of touches. “Lan, I need you. ‘need you so fucking bad.” You weren’t afraid of a little begging, you knew how much he loved it.

Your fingers trailed the back of his neck before delving back into his hair. “Need your fingers to help get me off, d‘you think you can do that for me baby?” You whispered.

His eyes widened at your sudden directness. “Fuck…” he hissed as you tugged on his curls. you could tell he was caught off guard, but that quickly washed away as you felt his grip tighten around your waist; guiding your hips as they rolled against him. “There’s my sweet girl.” he muttered. Fingers that were previously wrapped around your neck disappeared into your panties; the large digits not even hesitating to roughly push against your aching clit.

You felt that familiar pressure build and build as his fingers circled your core. Controlled and rough.

It didn’t take long for the melding of pleading whines and pleasured moans to fill the room, you begged for more, and more, and more; pushing your hips further into him as Lando praised, worshipped and fulfilled you completely. “So beautiful— so fucking wet for me.” he muttered harshly; possessively.

It only took his sinful tone to send you to the point of no return; pulsing waves flooding your body leaving you a whimpering mess in Lando’s hold to keep you steady as he continued to shower you with affirmations “that’s it baby, cum all over my thigh; show me desperate you are for me.”

You felt his movements slow, giving you a chance to breathe while sending aftershocks up and down your spine. You hid yourself in his neck, exhaustion hitting you out of no where. You left a small kiss at the base of his neck as your heart rate attempted to lower itself.

Lando comfortingly trailed his other hand down your back. “See baby, a lot of good can come from using your words.” He quipped lowly.

“Should try it again next time.”

[irndad]

won't you be my sunshine-a.h.

a/n: runner!hotch x sunshine!reader !! sooooo fluffy, first hotch fic of mine so be gentle with me! lots of pining and happy end <3 happy to continue with these two in an au!

Aaron Hotchner is not a particularly emotive man. 

This is a skill he has honed, a cherished quality that was not born of luck or of natural ability, but a skill that he has honed down to a fine tip point. He needs to be, in this job. It’s cost him things, of course, but for the most part, Aaron is happy with his choices. He takes a firm line with people he works with, and does not always let up in his personal life.

The only time this sometimes causes a hitch, is in his romantic life.

Which isn’t to say that he has one. 

There is a woman who reads in the park every morning. Aaron affectionately thinks of this bench as her bench, as it is marked by wisterias and hyacinths on either end of it. It’s something of a ritual, after his runs, that they talk. 

It’s fun. He doesn’t have a lot of space for fun. He’d collapsed on the bench one day after siphoning his anger at a particular case into a difficult run. He’d crashed onto the bench, sweaty and exhausted and hadn’t even seen her there. Which is a bit impressive, as she’s hard to miss the sight of. It is also in equal measure embarrassing. It’s not every day you collapse in front of a gorgeous woman, disturbing her from what is likely a lovely afternoon in the park.

That’s how it started, anyway. She doesn’t run, so each break is punctuated by her company. He’s actually not sure if they’re flirting. He’s not very good at that- the last time he has to he was 17 and so full of unearned confidence, he lucked into a partnership. 

Now, he’s a bit older and a lot more scarred. She’s younger than him, not by much. She laughs with her whole chest at his dry, glib humor- and this is something Aaron had forgotten. The joy of a beautiful, wonderful woman’s company beside you. 

He feels a little out of place next to her. Romance is not something he does. Ever thought he’d do again, really. That’s not to say that this is romance. Their romance is almost entirely hypothetical. He thinks of her at work, which is a monumental development in and of itself. 

“So, how was the paperwork? I know you’ve been taking a little more on since your colleague had a baby. It’s so kind of you to do it.” She asks him on a beautiful August morning. 

He fights off a blush that she remembers what he’s done for JJ. He’s not big on mentioning his own good deeds. Aaron believes that this would cancel it out. Still, her praise is a warm balm to the exhaustion that plagues him. It’s hedonistic, the way he wants her to say more about him. He wonders absentmindedly if she knew everything about him that’s hard to love, she’d still paint him with such a light and warm glance. She’s bright enough, he’s tempted to tell her everything about him just because she asks. 

“It was…alright. My team is excellent. I’m lucky to work with people like them, it makes the process better. I couldn’t ask for more.”

She giggles a little at this, and there’s that roar of affection. 

He feels a sense of ease around her, one that is suspicious for him. He tries not to romanticize, but this connection is hard not to. She’s beautiful- this is obvious to anyone who meets her, a simple truth of her. But Aaron is trained to notice things little factors that show the truth of someone. 

He likes to watch her- it’s a pleasant thing, getting to be in her presence. It’s a little addicting, the way she looks at him. It makes him feel like all of the things he knows to be true of himself- his relative failures, the closed-off nature of his demeanor- are things that not only can be overlooked, but don’t seem to be in her line of sight at all. It’s an honor, to have her doe eyes rake over the sight of him, to meet him with gentle conversation. 

He tries not to notice that she is gorgeous. Aaron has been around beautiful women, of course- this is not something that should surprise him. But there’s something effervescent about her, something that his him wondering if it’s possible that she might feel the same way about him. He knows that he used to be a more attractive man, but now. Well, he’s a bit bruised, both metaphorically and physically. 

It feels odd to even think of this happening. She’s just got a warm, sweet tone and he replays what it’s like when she greets him. She smiles her brilliant grin and sometimes hugs him. It’s embarrassing how much he likes the feeling of it- soft curves against hard muscle and scarred skin. She always smells wonderful, and he wonders how nice it would be to have more of this. 

“I like your new shirt, by the way.” She smiles at him, and his heart jumps. It feels juvenile, but- she’s wearing a new lipstick, it seems. Her beautiful pout looks awfully tempting. 

“I like the lip color,” he tries to compliment back amenably, but that doesn’t stick. Instead, it comes out too earnest. He’s hyper aware of the fact that she’s right by him. She flushes, and Aaron feels a surge of pride. 

“Thank you,” she says, voice softer and flattered, and isn’t that a pretty sound? He’d love to do that for her, make her feel seen, make her feel like she’s as beautiful as she is, “I thought you might like it.”

It’s her directiveness that breaks the seal, he supposes looking back. Because she wore the lipstick for him. That’s just about the only thing it can mean, and he is struck with a particularly sensory fantasy of what it would be like to slot his mouth against hers- he gets the feeling it might be worth it even if he gets the color on his mouth. 

He’s a gentleman, though, he decides after a decidedly ungentlemanly amount of time spend staring at the gorgeous curve of her lips. 

“Would you want to get dinner with me?” He hears himself say it before he’s processed it, and then it’s out into the world. His heart is hammering and he’s blaming on the run, when god, it’s absolutely about how breathtaking she looks, the sunlight reflecting off her hair like a halo. When she beams back at him, she looks particularly angelic. 

It’s then, she leans over and kisses him on the cheek. 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

(Months later, when she is sitting on his kitchen counter and he is standing between her legs, gazing down at her with unabated fondness because he is entitled to that, he reflects on this moment and thinks god, how lucky am I, that I ran past that bench?) 

[junislqve]

THAT FEELING WHEN / ’she looks perfect’

enhypen ｡｡ their “she’s perfect” moments

n : f!r / 1683 𝑤𝘰𝑟𝑑𝑠 . . . 𝓬 — ���𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍 ⨾ kissing fluff enha in love est rs ⟢ 𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖺𝗅𝘰𝗀𝗎𝖾

𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝘰𝗀𝗌 ♥︎ 𝖼𝗅𝑖𝖼𝗄

LEE HEESEUNG

one thing heeseung loved to do was watch his pretty girlfriend sit in front of her huge mirror while getting ready. loving the way you’d apply lip gloss on your lips knowing he’d kiss it all away in a minute anyway.

it was always one of those moments when he’d get to admire you as much as he’d like, his eyes chasing after every detail of your face in fear he’d forget about it if he didn’t.

“seung, can you pass me my bag?” you ask, unaware of the way his eyes glazed over, doe-eyed. “‘seung?”

“yeah?” he said, absentmindedly. you turn to him with a pout and only then did he snap out.

“my bag—“

“do you know how perfect you look right now?” your eyes flickered to his, “you look perfect all the time— how do you always look this pretty?”

PARK JONGSEONG

it’s always been hard to waver jay. he was never swayed that easily nor did he get shy a lot. so why was it so hard for him to focus on studying whenever you were around?

he had stacks of books all splayed out in front of him and a test to study for, yet all he could think about was how you looked smiling and laughing with your friends hours ago.

“jay?” hearing that voice, he thinks he’s never looked up that fast in his life, “hi, can i sit here?”

well, now he knows he can never get any studying done, “yeah, sure, of course.”

“have you been studying for long?” you ask, taking a seat right across from him, as if your mere presence wasn’t already a menace to his heart rate yet.

“no, i just started actually” a little white lie wouldn’t hurt. which he was glad for saying, because he spent the next two hours studying (mostly talking) with you. and he thought he’s gotten comfortable with talking to you, but that was until he attempted to crack a joke that gauged no reaction out of you.

“i mean, well, you’re always pretty— smart. smart and pretty” he sputtered, wishing he stayed silent, his dilemma was cut short by the soft chuckle you made. when he picked up the way your dimples showed and the way your eyes creased crescents, he knows he a goner.

SIM JAEYUN

your room was one of the places jake loved to be in. it didn’t matter what he was doing, it just felt better to do it in your room. it was nothing, however, without your presence. maybe it was because of your habit to leave music lulling away through every corner of your room, jake convinces himself.

he loved your room, and he loved you (though you didn’t know it yet) and he was completely fine with it. he was doing his project on your bedroom floor while you were sat on your window sill, typing up an essay.

it’s been hours since you both sat down in silence only letting the music to fill in the atmosphere.

“do you have a ruler i can borrow?” he asked, eyes still trained on his work. when you didn’t answer, his eyes turned to you for a moment, “hey, d—“

jake was reconsidering your friendship the moment he turned to look at you again, double taking at the sight. there was a beautiful sunset right behind you, and yet the only thing he could look at was you.

everything was fading away and you were the reason. all of his desires were begging him to reach out to you and ruin all that he’s built up until now, and while usually he’d create up a logical reason not to, this time, maybe a logical part of him wanted that too.

PARK SUNGHOON

sunghoon has never prioritized a day more than his day-ins. where all he needed to do was lay in bed and rest as long as he wanted. usually, he’d ignore everyone who tried to disturb him during those days. but if it was you, all it took was a call and he’s right outside your apartment.

“why didn’t you call me earlier, baby?” he sighs, fingers carving through your hair lulling you to sleep.

“i didn’t want to bother you” you pout, looking up at him. if you were any more adorable, sunghoon thinks he might not be able to restrain himself from kissing you breathless.

“bother me all you want, i’m yours to bother anyway” he says absentmindedly. unaware of the effect his words has on you, he always knew what to say at all the right times and that never failed to make you warm.

only after half an hour did you finally decide to let the sleep overtake you. sunghoon who was about to ask you if you wanted to eat, looked down to see his girlfriend’s arms around him.

he carefully moved the hair out of your face, brushing the little strands to the side. at first, he found you adorable looking this peaceful, but after a while he found himself not being able to look away. his hand cupping your jaw as his thumb gently rubbed your skin.

his eyes roamed your face possibly about a dozen times, hoping he’d remember every last detail of it to the way your lips pout slightly in your sleep. he found it baffling how you could look so perfect even while sleeping.

planting a small longing kiss on your forehead, sunghoon laid his head on top of yours. not realizing the slight smile on your lips nor the way you snuggled slightly closer to him.

KIM SUNOO

the door to the apartment drew open and sunoo looked exhausted. he needed his girlfriend and thankfully, the moment he was in, you were right there in front of him, sat on the couch.

sunoo walked to where you were, arms going around your body, face on your chest, hoping he could just stay like this forever. he caressed your sides and inhaled your scent until he looked up to you and noticed the familiar pattern of the hoodie you were wearing.

“baby, is this my hoodie?” he asks, heart melting when he saw you dig your face deeper into the hoodie in embarassment. he was about to shoot you a comment until your eyes peeped out of the hoodie and gazed at him.

this whole situation was ridiculous, more ridiculous as he was suddenly unable to think of anything except for the way you stared up at him so adorably. the doe eyes you shot him was enough to make him nervous.

just as fast as you did, you covered your whole face back under the hoodie, leaving sunoo trying to recollect himself, acting as if the fact that you were buried under his clothes and engulfed in his scent didn’t make him drunk on your existence.

YANG JUNGWON

music was blasting loudly. and somehow, jungwon wasn’t actively trying to avoid the place. reason of cause? you. more specifically, the way your hands wrapped around his arm. a simple action enough to drive him nuts. maybe if he was aware of the way he was following you like a lost puppy he’d snap out of it, but for now, he’s stuck to you.

“wonnie, do you want some punch?” you ask, grabbing a clean cup and pouring yourself a glass.

“hm?” he attempted to register the situation and once he did, he carefully took your cup away from you, “are you sure this is safe? we both know you can’t handle your alcohol”

maybe that’s exactly what you need right now though, some alcohol in your system because the way your boyfriend had his sleeves rolled up to his arms and the way his hair sat messily on top of his head was making you insane.

“come on, wonn, just a little” you tilt your head to the side. and that was when jungwon had his little shit moment. the way you looked tonight in the dim lighting and that smile of yours, it was all too overwhelming for him.

all those moments he’s had with you is all catching up to him and his heart feels so full of love for you, he doesn’t know what to do. only then can he gulp, and nod at his girlfriend as he watches her eyes light up, giving him a split second’s kiss that had him grinning from ear to ear while following her from behind.

NISHIMURA RIKI

“riki come on! the sunset’s about to start”

your voice echoing from ahead, riki was struggling to keep up with your pace, his legs running as fast as he could through the road.

“slow down” he huffs, breathing heavily as his feet finally lands on sand and his pace slowing down. despite the need to heave, he continued his slow walk towards you, who had your back towards him.

he stood beside you and he turned to you, just about to scold you for making him run with you, but all his words died on his tongue as he saw the way your eyes reflected the sunset.

he willed himself to look ahead for a split second before his eyes trailed back to you, riki wondered how someone could look so pretty compared to the view right in front of him. he wondered how even though you annoyed him most times, he couldn’t look away from you right now.

he told himself it was because of how you looked dumb gaping at a sunset but even then you looked unreal, riki didn’t understand your fascination with sunsets when you could just look at yourself in the mirror.

but he’ll never tell you that, in fact, he promised himself he’s only going to look at you for that long only for this moment. only because the orange hues reflecting off your skin made you look perfect, only because he knew he couldn’t pay any amount of money to get to see something as pretty as that smile of yours. only this time.

spoiler: that wasn’t the last time.

juni : this took too long bruh

[angel-sweets666]

Wrong photo!

AGED UP AGED UP BRO NO PEDOS

Denki kaminari x fem!reader

You accidentally send Denki a photo of your tits instead of homework, you didn’t expect him to send his dick back

mdi

a/n okay so this is inspired by a post I saw, I forgot the name of the blog but if someone knows can you put the name in the comments? Inspired by this text message thing where you accidentally send mha boys nudes

warning: swearing ,nudes, oral m and f, boobie sucking, fingering 🙏🙏

ALL CREDS GOING TO THE INSPIRED CREATOR

You groan and slam your head onto the table in frustration. This homework was impossible; no matter how many times you went over it, the answers just wouldn’t come. The jumble of equations and theories seemed to mock you from the pages of your textbook.

Grumbling, you pulled out your phone, feeling a mix of desperation and determination. You opened your chats and scrolled to Bakugo’s name. He was one of the smartest kids in class, and despite his rough exterior, you knew he could help.

*name*: bakugo can you help me with this homework?

explosion tits: no figure it out yourself dumbass

*name*: this is why you get no bitches

explosion tits: kys.

You scoffed in annoyance. What’s up his ass recently? you wondered, fidgeting with your phone. The dorms were unusually quiet, with most of the students away at various hero training sessions. Only you and three other kids were left behind, making the place feel almost deserted.

Scrolling through your contacts, you realized your options for homework help were limited. You could message Mineta, but the thought of dealing with his inappropriate responses made your skin crawl. He'd likely send you an unsolicited picture of his 1cm shriveled-up cock instead of any actual help with homework.

That left Denki. While he wasn’t the brightest, he was at least not as creepy as Mineta. You sighed and opened a chat with Denki, typing out a message.

*name* hey does this look right to you? [image]

free charger 🙏 : WOAH HELLO TO YOU TOO

*name* Tf you on about?

Free charger 🙏: [image]

your face turned bright pink as you opened the picture, that was Denkis dick. You always expected him to have a small dick but clearly not. you looked back down at your phone to type

*name* DENKI WHAT THE FUCK

free charger🙏: WHATT YOU SENT ME TITTIES I SENT YOU MY DICK I THOUGHT WE WERE TRADING NUDES

you stare at your screen in complete horror, what does he mean you sent titties? You checked the photo you sent and there it was, the nudes you had saved for dudes you were talking to…. But you had accidentally sent them to the 2nd dude you’d never want to send nudes to, first being mineta.

The sound of fast stomps echoed down the hall, and you assumed it was Bakugo chasing Izuku or Kirishima. Then, you remembered that both Izuku and Kirishima were out doing hero training. So who was stomping down the hallway if not bakugo?

The door bursted open, it was a very panicked kaminari “IM SORRY LETS FORGET ABOUY THIS” he said as he snatched your phone “HEY!” You yelped, trying to grab your phone back “IM DELETING THE PHOTOS HOLD ON!” He screamed, bakugos yelling could be heard in the distance “SHUT IT.” His gruff voice exclaimed. You watched kaminari try to delete the photos, a panicked look on his face; while you watched him do this you looked him up and down, noticing the obvious bulge in his pants

he didn’t have time to jerk off between you sending the photos and him bursting into your room? Your face turning pinker at the idea of his dick, he wasn’t exactly small and he had a very pretty dick… the familiar warmth went straight for your lower belly…

kaminari was muttering quick apologies, trying as quickly as he could to delete the photos “imsorryimsorryimsorryimsorry” “Denki!” “I’m trying to not be such a creep and i basically just ruined it all” “ Denki!” “DONE! What?” He looked up at you “it’s fine, we all make mistakes” you tried to calm him down but to be honest it was more yourself from your own flustered moment “WHAT FRIENDS SEND EACH OTHER NUDES?” He acted bewildered, throwing his hands “uh… friends with benefits?” You shrugged as you thought about it.

Denkis jaw dropped as he once again yelled “ARE WE FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS? IVE NEVER EVEN SEEN YOUR BOO- oh wait yes I have” he calmed down at the thought, his eyebrows furrowing before his face proceeding to get a lot pinker. The hardness between his legs became a lot worse. “NOT THE POINT!” He said as he gently threw your phone into your lap, but you seemed preoccupied; Your eyes going between his eyes and his dick.

Denki stood face to face with you, trying to figure out where your line of sight was. Denki soon realised why your face was so pink and it wasn’t because you had just seen his dick on camera or because you accidentally shown him your titties “are you.. are you looking at my dick?!” he seemed so surprised, not a bad surprised with how Pervy he was but just… surprised. “OH SHIT SORRY! H-HOW ABOUT YOU JUST L-LEAVE AND WE NEVER SPEAK OF THIS AGAIN YEAH?” You tried to push Denki out of your dorm, letting out a nervous laugh.

Denki saw an opportunity and he was going to take it? He suddenly resisted against your push and grabbed your hands to take them off his back “hey Uhm…” he starts “well you do have very pretty titties” he smirks and leans down to you, your whole face turning a much pinker shade “w-wha?” You stammered, trying to reach up and push Denki out “what? You do!” He chuckled and took a step forward “Denki what are you doing?” You crossed your arms against your chest, unknowingly giving him a better view of your tits. Denki grins and looks down at them “hey! Now you’re just showing them off.” He sneakily shut the door behind him.

“I-i wasn’t showing them off!” The feeling of arousal became worse and worse, you began to realise he was probably trying to see if you’ll let him see or even touch your boobs “what are you doing..?” You asked as you stepped back, Denki stepping forward “PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE LEMME SEE ‘EM.” The blonde begged, clasping his hands together as he could feel his pants get even tighter. “I won’t hurt you I promise! I won’t even tell anyone!” He kept begging, even going as far as getting on his knees.

You thought about it for a moment, your face going pink. “I mean.. as long as this stays between us…” you mumbled, looking away to hide your obvious pink face. Denkis eyes lit up but then he tried to look more serious about it, not wanting to assault you obviously. You slowly sat down “AND NO HARD GRABBING! I’m not in the mood for sore boobs” you stuck your finger out at him, laying down some ground rules so you two were on the same page “deal! Wait I can grab them?” His face lit up again “i suppose yeah… BUT DONT HURT ME.” You reminded him of the rule “I’ll be gentle! I’ll be very gentle with you” he raised his hands to show that he was being honest. You got yourself in a more comfortable position on the bed as you pulled your shirt off, chucking it to the other side of the room. While you didn’t notice it, Denki was is absolute awe to see a girl in her bra at all.

“Mkay calm down” you giggled as tried to wake him from his trance, he shook his head to pull himself together. Denki slowly sat next to you on the plush mattress of your bed, he wanted to make himself comfortable for this. Why was he panicking so much?! You reached behind yourself and unclasped your bra, chucking it on the floor too before laying down on your back. Denki was again in complete awe, now he had a pretty girl laying down next to him with her tits out, this day could not get any better for Denki.

“Are you sure I can touch ‘em” he mumbled, obviously wanting confirmation he was actually allowed to touch you. “Yeah go on then” you smiled sweetly up at him, that made his brain overheat. Denkis hand reached out and slowly caressed over your left boob, paying extra attention to the sensitive bud on you. You let out a whimper and his face lit up, a new found confidence going him ability to keep going, his other hand reached out to caress your right tit. He soon found a way to hover over you as he squeezed and gently play with your tits. Denki chuckled in awe, he couldn’t believe he out of all people was making you feel this good. Atleast he assumed you felt good because of the whimpers you let out.

Denki looked up at you and slowly lowered his head to suck on your right nipple. You let out a whine and gripped his hair, grabbing a fistful. He giggles against your boob and waves his tongue over the sensitive bud “shit…”he whispered as he popped off your boob and leaned down to suck on the other one, fondling the one he just had in his mouth. You arched your back a little and let out a coo, running your fingers through his golden blonde locks. The blonde soon popped off your other boob, fondling both with his warm hands. He smirked smugly as he admired your body, he lowered his head again to kiss the valley between each breast before lowering his kisses down your belly as he listened to your sweet noises

“shit your actually really pretty, not like because I just sucked your tits it’s because your like actually pretty!” He sat up to admire you, you blushed and gripped the bedsheets “hmmph.” You pouted “damn someone’s got a attitude” Denki muttered as he went back to kissing your boobs and tummy, you slowly snaked your hand into his hair again and let out a series of whimpers with each kiss and suck. Denki grumbled when he realised that he didn’t have any condoms, looks like a blow job will do fine.

“Can I uh.. take your shorts off?” He asked, trying to atleast make you comfortable “it’s okay if you don’t wanna! It’s completely up to you princess” Denki grins up at you “yeah.. it’s fine” you sat up on your elbows to look down at him, his face was flushed and his eyes sparkled with arousal. Denki placed his fingers under your waistband and pulled your shorts down “shit were going commando today?” His eyebrows raised as his pupils grew, he used his big hands to pull your thighs apart “oh my god your so wet..” Denki mumbled, he had a genuine idea on how to eat a girl out from the pornos he watched but other than that he didn’t know how to pleasure you!

“you gotta let me eat you out” he looked up at you, Pupils blown and all. You let out a surprised whimper, then slowly nodded. “With your words princess with your words” he tapped your thigh with his finger, you gulped and looked down at your pussy “yeah.. sure you can eat me out..” you mumbled bashfully, Denki grinned and pulled your hips towards his face. Licking a stripe from your entrance to your clit, you let out a moan and gripped the bedsheets “nghh” your back arched off the mattress. Denki began to eat you out like a starved man, shoving his tongue inside and tongue fucking you before sucking on your clit, he pulled back with a pop and stuck his two fingers into his mouth to use as lube even though you were slick enough from your own juices and his spit for his two fingers to slide right in.

slowly Denki slid his fingers inside of you, stretching your walls out deliciously. You let out a desperate whine as he began to pump his thick fingers deeper and deeper, hr leaned back down to tongue at your clit. You sat up and gripped at his hair, he grunted against your clit. Causing a vibration against your core “t’much! I’m gonna.. I’m gonna..” you whined as the grip on his hair got tighter “holy shit am I about to make a girl cum?” He thought in his mind as he began to pump his fingers faster, making you release more and more moans. eventually you let out one last squeal before cumming hard on his fingers, you panted tiredly and looked down at his hand. Denki slowly pulled his fingers out, slick and cum glistening his fingers. Denki slowly stuck his fingers in his mouth and tasted you on his digits “shit.. pussy tastes good” he mumbled “huh?!” You gasped “calm down!” He chuckles and sat up, leaning his body over you “would you please suck me off? I’m actually really hard and it’s starting to hurt like a lot” he said with a sigh, enjoying the thought of you chocking on his dick.

you gulped and looked down between his legs, the bulge looked painful. “Yeah.. that looks like it hurts.” You nodded as you sat up straight, now completely naked infront of him. Denki grinned and sat down on the mattress, pulling his shorts and boxer briefs off his hips. Releasing his cock from the constraints of his pants , the poor thing was so hard that he even had precum dripping down the length of his dick:((

you sat down on the floor between his legs, your face blushing. Denki ran his hands through his hair, an attempt to calm his nerves. “You know I’ve never had a blow job before” he chuckles nervously as he watches you spit into your hand, you look up at him “I’ve never been eaten out before this so it’s fine” you told him, teaching over and beginning to stroke his lengthy cock. He let out a groan, your hand was so much better then his own fist. You leaned forward and licked the side; base to tip, giving the tip a couple swirls of the tongue. He groaned “shit are you sure you’ve never done this before?!” He said with a groan “mhm..” you hummed against the tip, causing a vibration that made him moan. Denki grabbed a fist full of your hair and pushed your head down on his cock. “Nghh fuck! That feels too good… I’ll probably cum quick…” he groaned as he used his hand to help you suck it, face fucking you.

you could feel the tip of his length going down your throat, tears welling up in your eyes. You gripped his thighs tightly so you had something to hold onto “shit I’m gonna fucking.. cum” he grunted as he began to face fuck you a little faster, he pushed your face all the way down his cock before letting out spurts of hot cum “soo fucking good…” he mumbled, letting your head go so you could breath. You pulled your face off his cock and slowly swallowed all of it, opening your mouth so he could see you swallows all of his seed “that’s hot…” he smirked and rubbed your cheek, and all of this came from doing homework

SHIT YOUR HOMEWORK.

[servicpop]

kinktober week 1 — shower / bath adrien ( deliquent oc ) x bttm m reader

That Saturday afternoon glow of light orange and yellows filtered through your curtains and into your room. It was a sign to turn on your light since it was getting dark. As usual, you were hunched over your desk finishing off any work you had from your classes, pen in hand and music blasting through your headphones.

Your music cuts off and out of confusion you pick it up from its position faced down on the table; its Adrien, of course. He's sent you a rather cryptic message of just emojis, no text, just "🧍‍♂️👉🏡👍💒💦💞💞💞. You don't have half the mind to decipher it but you do understand that he's most likely heading to your house. Per usual.

You don't bother sending him a reply, you seeing it is enough for Adrien to take that as a yes.

Your parents aren't home tonight, but that's never stopped Adrien from sneaking into your room through your window, even if the front door is free. You hear rattling and that's when you know Adrien has so kindly graced you with his presence. To make things easier for him, you decide to slide the window open and peer down at him.

Just like rapunzel, he's scaling your 'tower' like it's nothing. You sometimes question if Adrien is even human, and how he's acquired knowledge to safely climb your two story home. You notice that he has his gym bag slung over his shoulder and he tilts his head up to you with a grin, "Catch this!" He shouts, throwing his bag up to you and you shakily catch it, placing it down on the floor.

The next second, Adrien is hauling himself into your room and brushing off the dust from his clothes. "The front door is... open you know?" You huff, shaking your head disapprovingly. You glance over at him, and you see beads of sweat dripping down his temples and how his chest rises and falls quicker than usual.

"Are you—" "I went to training." Right, Adrien trains basically every second day of the week for a sport you never thought to ask about. Basketball? Football? Hockey? You never asked.

"Can I use your shower, prez?" The question comes off too casual; you've never really let any of your friends take a shower in your house let alone come over regularly. But since Adrien is already here, all sweaty and hot, you can't find a reason to say no. "Fine, everything you need is in there," you nod, walking back to sit at your desk.

"You're not gonna show me where it is?" Adrien places a hand on your desk, leaning his weight against his arm as he looks down at you. You just assumed he knew where it was given he's broke into your house multiple times but your assumptions were wrong. You get up and start walking, not bothering to look back to see if Adrien was following. You knew he would.

You reach your bathroom, stepping in so you could show him where everything was. Before you started speaking, you heard the faint click of the door shutting.

"Adrien—" "How am I supposed to know which knob is hot or cold?" he's so blatantly playing with you. He walks right up to you, only a hair away as he looks down at you. A stupid grin is plastered across his face and his fingers are gripping at the edge of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. "I'm all sweaty, prez, I need help washing my back," he sighs dramatically, fanning his face.

You take a moment to just stare. He's glistening in a sheen of sweat, droplets trickling down the curves and dents of his muscles, even his hair is slightly tousled. You keep quiet, unsure of what to say. That grin on his face never seems to lessen; it only grows wider by the second.

You can't even utter out a word before Adrien is pulling off his pants, letting them fall to his ankles. Your head instinctively darts to the right, trying to shield your eyes. "What? You act like you've never seen my dick before," he snorts out, tugging at your shirt, "it's been inside you too," he adds, successfully pulling your shirt off. "Oh shut up," you groan, grimacing at the way Adrien says it.

You don't stop him from completely stripping you down before taking off his own boxers, you just have the decency not to stare. He pushed the shower door open and ushered you inside before following you in. His chest his flushed against your back and the feeling of his sweat against your skin made you shiver, "Sorry," he mutters with a small chuckle.

He does know which knob is cold or hot because he immediately turns them to a desirable temperature. It's a little bit cooler than your preference though, but you don't mind it.

Adrien wastes no time in feeling your body, his hands moving straight to your hips like a moth to a flame. "You've been eating good? Not overworking yourself, prez?" He murmurs against your skin, his lips dragging along your shoulders as he clutches your body. "Yeah," your response is quiet and short, almost breathless since Adrien is all up on you at the moment.

His fingers trace the lines of your hip bone to your front, patting the skin where your leg meets your hip, slowly dipping more into your inner thighs to rub that area. His hands are so close. You can feel him spread your flesh, and he slots his cock in the free space. "Adrien," you scold, trying to pry his hands away but Adrien just ends up pushing you against the wall, your palms flat against the glass.

"You've been treating yourself well?" He hums, and you can tell from his tone he's half-mindely asking you these questions just to keep a conversation. He moves his hips back, sliding against the underside of your dick before meeting your hole, rubbing shallowly. "I haven't seen you in a week," from gentle caresses to harsher groping, Adrien's hands are now squeezing your hips.

Adrien nips at your neck, biting gently since he knew how you felt about visible marks, "It's so hard to avoid you" He borderline growls in your ear, pushing up into you. Adrien groans quietly at the feeling of you stretching out around him. His breathing becomes more and more audible as he caresses your torso.

Your small whines are muffled by the sound of water hitting the shower floor and the feeling of the cold glass along your chest gets you squirming. Adrien lifts your hips up a tiny bit, giving your ass a small tap before pushing in fully. Your fingers twitch and clench on the glass, trying desperately to hold onto something before Adrien's own hands meet yours, slotting a finger inbetween the gaps of yours.

"Just want me to hold your hand?" You wanna bite back at him but you lose your voice the moment he pulls out and thrusts back in, forcing a yelp out your throat instead of words. He squeezes the plush flesh of your ass a few times, and his eyes are trained to your hole, watching as it sucked him back in everytime he moved his hips back.

Adrien was getting overly worked up right now and the water didn't help either. Seeing the droplets decorate your spine like clear crystals rolling down the curve of your back made his mind go blank. You really brought that side out of him. He couldn't help but imagine that was his semen painting your back instead.

"Fuck you're too cute," He grunted, squeezing your hand a little tighter. Everytime Adrien pushed his dick in further, you felt the water push into you as well like it was wetting your insides. It was a weird sensation, nothing like lube, but it served to heighten your arousal from the fact that the water made the sound ofbyour skin clapping together alot louder.

It wasn't long before Adrien had moved in a way where he could hit your prostate directly and he knew he found it the moment you let out a strangled cry. Hearing that, Adrien pushed your body more against the glass, pinning you between himself and the wall. Your neglected cock was feverishly rubbing against cold wall with each thrust, smearing your pre-cum all over the glass.

"Does it feel good? Shit, maybe I gotta experiment with temp-play later," Adrien chuckled and you just let out an agitated groan that came out more like a needy whine. "That's where you're weak, isn't it? The underside of your dick?" You hated how he knew these things by now, but he wasn't wrong. Everytime you rubbed along the cold glass your body would jolt away from it and into Adrien which would result in him pushing you back into the wall as he fucked you from behind.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," you heave, squirming relentlessly as your dick twitched against the wall. Adrien just let's out a strained chuckle as he grips your hips tighter, pounding into you even faster. He leans his head down to your shoulder and sinks his teeth into your skin, forgetting about the fact that you would definitely scold him for this afterwards. The feeling of Adrien's chapped lips and sharp teeth piercing through your skin made your vision go white and your ears ring.

Your previously clear shower walls are now splattered with white and your knees buck as Adrien holds you up, forcing you to stand as he orgasms into you. He laughs breathlessly as you ragdoll in his arms like a baby deer who's trying to stand up. "Right, right I'll clean you up baby just relax, and then we'll get out," he chuckles, rubbing soap inbetween his hands before cleaning you off,

"I think I'm gonna dry up like a raisin if I stay here any longer..."

[yanderenightmare]

Bakugou Katsuki

♡ TW: omegaverse, size difference, reader's second gender is omega, so there are mentions of pregnancy, somewhat subjugating omega politics, old-fashioned high-class politics of sorts

♡ prequel to this

♡ GN reader

His eyes are garnet and slim—you can’t make up your mind if they’re judgemental or just assessing. Either would be allowed, of course. The point of the date is for him to decide if you’re sufficient or not.

And yet, you’re the one taking him in. His main is ashen blonde, boyishly spikey and wild—not fine-kempt and slick like you’d pictured. He didn’t have any grey hair either, or stubble, or wrinkles. Though he’s still much bigger and burlier than they are, he can’t be any older than the eldest males back at the institution.

He’s obviously an Alpha, and still, it’s so odd.

“You’re young,” you end up saying.

His nose scrunches. “No younger than you.”

It must have sounded accusatory, even when you only meant to point it out for yourself. You probably ought to have said it silently, inside yourself, and not out loud like you did.

And so you apologize, “I’m sorry, I was—I was just expecting someone older…” You try smiling, but the thought of him actually having been older makes your throat tight, and you swallow thickly instead. “Much older.”

He sighs, looks off to the side instead of at you. His brows tighten—you probably want someone who’s already got a house and a car and a boat on a lake, not to mention a good salary and not the intern pay he’ll be living off of for at least the next year or so. His foot taps beneath the table. You feel it in the floorboards. “You disappointed or somethin’?” he grumbles through grit teeth and a slim frown.

Your eyes widen, and you shake your head, blruting, “No!” You even jump out of your chair, both hands slamming flat on the table, making the napkin-wrapped cutlery clatter within their confines. 

Quickly, but too late, you realize you’re causing a scene. Cheeks burning, you look around before settling down again—you’re not making a very good first impression so far.

You take a breath, confessing, “I mean, I’m happy,” You place your hands in your lap and then start fiddling with them. “This way, we can be together for a long time…” Your voice is breathy as you let out a somewhat apologetic sigh, smiling some. “If you’ll have me, of course.”

He doesn’t say anything, and you don’t dare look up to gauge his expression.

You end up laughing nervously in the silence, feeling the joke arise before you're able to dispel it. “I was afraid I was gonna have to be your nurse soon.”

His foot stops tapping. Then he scoffs.

You perk up again, fumbling over your newest mistake, already apologizing a second time so far, “I’m sorry, that was rude. You’re just not what I was expecting—I’m a little caught off guard, is all.”

He huffs, then grins. “That’s okay. You don’t gotta apologize.”

You both sit in silence after that. You pick your nails more. All the questions you’ve prepared are useless given his age—he doesn’t have an answer to how many kids he wants from you. Probably. It somehow feels strange asking him when he isn’t in his thirties or forties or early fifties.

You look at him in askance. It really is odd.

“You can ask—if you’re curious,” he sanctions.

You really want to, but you’ve made enough mistakes already. Your teachers wouldn’t be proud if they witnessed you acting so childish and not as the proper little lady they’ve trained you to be. 

“No, I shouldn’t.” You shake your head and look down at your lap.

“Come on, you don’t gotta worry about being rude with me,” he insists.

You bite your lip, feeling fidgety in your chair, peering up at him. “You sure?”

“Hit me.” 

The question leaps from your tongue before you have the mind to regret it. “How can you afford this?”

He leans back in his chair. “I can’t—not yet. My folks are paying.”

You hum—that makes more sense. “They must be nice,” you say.

“They try,” he agrees.

There’s a silence again. You don’t have anything appropriate to ask. You were more prepared to talk when spoken to, to answer his questions about your health and hobbies, all silly things that make you cute and likable, but given he’s your age, none of it seems any interesting. It seems he doesn’t have much to ask, either.

“I was unsure about this,” he declares after a while. “To be honest with you, it was all my mom’s idea. I didn’t ask for it…” With a pause, he picks up the menu that had been lying undisturbed in wait for his decision. “But, she tends to be right about most things. So, I think I’ll take the offer this once.”

He lets you decide without ordering for you. Neither of you decide to drink, even though you’re both old enough. The conversation is awkward, but you giggle a couple of times and he smirks in turn. You hadn’t anticipated it—this feeling. You’d anticipated the nerves and the tension—but not this other thing, this sweet fluttering feeling blossoming in your belly, flirty and fizzy. Is this what they call butterflies?

He’s left asking himself the same question.

♡ BAKUGOU KATSUKI masterlist ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[gloomwitchwrites]

Locker Room

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): canon-typical swearing, enemies-ish to lovers, sexual tension, arguments, suggestive themes, intimate touching, teasing, dirty thoughts

A/N: For @glitterypirateduck 's Ghost Writing Challenge. I used prompts 43, 97, & 99. (I had so much fun challenging myself to do this all in one go. I set a timer and everything.)

After finding an infuriating note on your desk, you confront Simon in the communal locker room.

Part Two // Simon's POV

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist

Beneath your skin is an inferno.

It’s not the kind that blazes for another, or burns in tandem with a deep yearning. This is just seething anger and blunt frustration.

You’re ready to knock out some fucking teeth.

How dare he? Who the fuck does Lieutenant Riley think he is?

When you return reports to Captain Price, you point out all the inconsistences and errors. The lack of accountability and absolute carelessness has been scratching at you for ages, and this time you had enough. Usually Price shrugs, fixes whatever you’ve marked—to a degree—and then returns them without argument.

This time? Price took one look at them and told you to talk to Simon.

Not a problem. No issue at all. You and Lieutenant Riley have always been on good terms. Sometimes, it’s been more than good. You’ve caught him staring for far too long, or he stands a bit too close as if the two of you are a couple and not coworkers. And while you’ve internalized the fantasy, it’s not like you’ve ever acted on it.

But now you’re just irritated.

You handed over the files yesterday evening, and this morning you found them back on your desk. It’s not the turnaround but Lieutenant Riley’s audacity of placing those files back on your desk with a singular sticky note.

The reports are just fine, sweetheart.

Sweetheart. Sweetheart?

The other day you imagined what it might be like to have the burly, masked man call you a pet name, but this is just fucking condescending.

Your heels clack sharply against the linoleum floor. Perhaps it’s the rage in your face, because every person you meet on your rampage steps out of your way, their gaze averted. Rounding a corner, you exit through a side door and into one of the hangars. A few people glance up, frowning, but return to their job.

Sighing heavily, you approach the nearest person. “Where’s Lieutenant Riley?”

The young man—who looks right out recruitment—glances up. He swallows and peers over his shoulder as if he’s not sure he’s supposed to say. “Locker room, ma’am?”

“Thank you,” you reply sharply, turning on your heel and heading for another door leading to the communal gym.

“But—” he begins, stumbling to his feet as you charge on. “Ma’am! You can’t—”

The door slams shut behind you and you don’t look back.

This is one of several communal spaces. There are the usual training areas on base but there are also a few gyms for those that want to get a bit of extra work in. Every head turns toward you and many don’t look away. This one is just for the men, and you’re the odd duck.

And fuck it. You don’t care. You’re too fucking mad right now to think of anything else but giving Lieutenant Riley a piece of your goddamn mind.

With everything pumping in your veins, the reality of you storming toward the locker rooms hasn’t even dawned. Hasn’t clicked. Fury laces your every step, and even here, where you’re not supposed to be, the men in your path move as if they sense the rage.

When you burst through the door and meet a wall of steam, all the heat suddenly extinguishes. Glancing around, you’re met with wide-eyed stares and surprised expressions.

Keeping your gaze as upward as you can, you clear your throat. “Where is Lieutenant Riley?”

There is only silence. Maybe if you stare at the top of the lockers for long enough, you’ll somehow gather your courage again.

“I asked where Lieutenant—”

“I’m right here.”

You turn abruptly and freeze.

Lieutenant Simon Riley stands before you in nothing but a towel. It hangs low on his hips. Other than that, the bottom-half of his face is covered up by a black mask and his dog tags dangle from his neck. His hair is a wet, tussled mess, and his chest glistens with water like he just stepped out from the shower.

Simon simply stares at you for a moment as you stand in utter silence. His gaze, which is piercing and fierce, slides away to scan the room. He doesn’t have to say anything. The rest of the men in the room grab bags and clothes, rushing to exit through the door you just entered from.

When the last man leaves, Simon rolls his shoulders, straightening his spine. It makes him appear larger, more intimidating, and that one movement draws forth a heat in your belly. This isn’t anger. This is need.

“I know what you came here for,” he says, and it’s so casual a tone that the earlier rage comes rising up.

“I’m sure you do,” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest.

Simon says nothing. His dark eyes remain on you, unmoving and cold, yet pinning you to the spot as if you’ve been impaled by a spear.

“Are you going to apologize?”

“Why?” he asks automatically.

You scoff. “Are you fucking serious?”

“You didn’t come here for an apology.”

You uncross your arms and hold them out in front of you, bent at the elbows. “The reports—”

“The reports are fine.”

You roll your eyes and throw your hands up in the air. “There are inconsistencies everywhere. I can’t submit them as they are.”

Simon rolls his neck and then strides forward. Instinct has you stepping back, moving away, but you bump into a row of lockers. He doesn’t stop until he’s leaning over you, one large hand pressing into the metal to the side of your head.

“You’re nitpicking,” he replies.

“About lazy writing?”

“Oh, love. I assure you. I’m thorough.” At that, Simon leans in, and your hands rise instinctually, pressing against his firm chest.

Simon’s gaze doesn’t drop from your face. His entire attention is on you and that heat is back, twisting in your stomach, stirring up a slickness between your legs.

“Lieutenant,” you breathe, wanting the need between your legs to leave but also loving how close he is.

Sure, you’re pissed off but my god. The fresh scent of him is intoxicating, and you’re doing everything in your power not to lean in and lick up the droplet of water running along the side of his throat.

“Why did you come here?” He waits a beat, and when you don’t reply, Simon continues. “To argue?” He lightly pinches your bottom chin, his thumb pressing against your bottom lip, dragging it down a bit. You open your mouth involuntarily and Simon makes at sound in his throat that makes your legs weak. “To see me?” He leans in like he’s about to kiss you. “To be alone?”

“I didn’t ask for this,” you whisper.

Simon has you caged in. Pinned. The only thing separating your body and his is that towel.

“Why do you think everyone left when they did?” Simon’s thumb drops away from your lips only to press at the hollow of your throat. “It’s not because you walked in.”

“Why?” you ask, as Simon’s thumb drags lowers over your top to the space between your breasts.

“Because you’re mine. And they know it.”

“You—what?” Without anywhere to go, you can’t escape his intense stare.

“I’m staking a claim.”

“Lieutenant—”

“Simon,” he growls. “Call me Simon.”

“Simon,” you say, and he groans.

His dog tags brush against your fingers. The metal is slightly cool and damp. You curl on finger around the chain, and tug, bringing Simon’s face down to yours. If he can tease and touch, you’re going to do the same. He can’t have all the power.

Your lips brush against his through the mask, and Simon’s eyelids begin to close, revealing his gentle submission in this moment. Deepening the movement, you kiss him as if there were no barrier. This time, he truly groans, and you’d give anything to remove the barriers between you and find out what it’s like to feel him deep inside.

Fisting his dog tags in your hand, you shove him away, but only enough that there is a fraction of distance.

“Fix the fucking reports, Simon.”

Instead of kissing him again, or even touching him, you unclench your fist, releasing the dog tags. Slipping under his arm, you exit through the door and out into the gym, leaving a trail of steam in your wake.

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth

@miaraei @coffeecaketornado @wren5650 @aykxz98 @kayden666

@unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @enfppuff

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@therealbloom @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @marispunk @thewulf

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@suhmie @tulipsun-flower @ghosts-hoe @jaggersinclair @nomercyforthewarrior

[yueebby]

4:36am – gojo satoru

synopsis. satoru is dying (he has a fever) and he needs his darling wife (you) to nurse him back to health 

contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo, even in sickness gojo can still flirt, he yaps a lot abt marriage and he’s kind of perverted, but he’s just so in love why dont you just give him one chance?

notes. i tried to make this very shoujo-esque. cant have a good shoujo anime without a fever episode!  this has also been sitting in my drafts for a hot minute. enjoy yet another fic of me showering satoru with affection (sigh).

the cold wooden floors of your dormitory creak underneath your waddling feet. your sleepy haze does not deter you from the strong desire for a cold glass of water.

surprisingly, the usual dark communal kitchen is illuminated by the small lightbulb inside of the fridge. you hear shuffling of some items from the white icebox, removing any ounce of sleepiness from you. it was unusual for anyone to be up at four in the morning.

a tuft of white hair peeks over the refrigerator door, giving the culprit’s identity away.

“satoru? i thought you were still on that mission in sendai?”

the sounds of digging pauses. satoru’s rises to his full height, towering over the rundown refrigerator door. he gives you a crooked smile that you rarely see. it’s dopier than one of his signature cocky smiles.

“missed me? don’t worry, i tried to speed run it since i knew i had such a beautiful woman waiting for me back home.” 

you placed a hand on your hip, scoffing at his pathetic attempts to flatter you. a snarky response was about to fall from your lips, but a series of painful coughs from the lanky male stopped you. 

you recoil back to avoid his germs. “gross. are you sick?”

satoru sniffles, pointing his nose in the air. the same nose that was starting to turn pink from irritation. “i can’t get sick. it’s physically impossible.” 

“don’t be stubborn, satoru. why didn’t you call for help?” 

he huffs, eyes trained to the floor. “it’s too early. shoko’ll kill me for waking her up.”

sometimes you forget that satoru had an image to uphold. he was the great gojo satoru, after all. 

but if you don’t take care of him, then who will? and despite your disdain at the thought of coddling his ego, it was only basic decency to take care of a fellow peer (or that was what you’d like to convince yourself).

silently, you place the back of your hand to his forehead. you’re not surprised by the warm sensation that you feel. 

satoru’s hazy eyes watch as you move your hand from his forehead to his cheek.

you purse your lips in concern. with the way satoru was stubbornly denying that he wasn’t sick, you were nearly certain that he was indeed not fine. without warning, you grab the collar of his white t-shirt and pull him to your room.

“at least take me out to dinner before~”

“shut it.”

it wasn’t hard to get satoru to settle in your bed. in fact, he seemed giddy at the opportunity. while he was happy cuddling with your rilakkuma plushie, you came to two conclusions: either satoru had a wound from his mission that got infected, or he was simply sick.

knowing his pride, you lean towards the former.

the boy in question winces when you grab his shoulders to inspect the damage done to him. the sounds of furious pats and heavy breathing is the only thing you can hear over your rapidly beating heart as your hands run down his body to check for any injuries. satoru sucks in his breath when your hands cup his cheeks to loll his head to check for any damages done to that pretty face of his. 

his body tensing up doesn’t go unnoticed by you. your imposing hands immediately retract, afraid of inflicting any more damage on him.

“where is the wound?!” your frantic eyes meet his blissed out ones. 

satoru sighs happily, lazily grabbing your hands to bring back onto him,  “there isn’t one, this just feels nice.”

your chest angrily puffs up before you shove him into your soft mattress. he grunts, but you know it didn’t hurt.

“[name]!” he whines, rubbing the arm that cushioned his fall.

you cross your arms angrily, “you scared me!”

gojo mimics your actions, crossing his arms while weakly glaring at you. his efforts to intimidate you prove futile as he shivers uncontrollably, resembling a newborn kitten.

sighing, you delve into your closet, emerging with an oversized black sweatshirt that you toss to him.

he catches it with ease, a chuckle escaping while he inspects the sweater, “i never took you for the type to wear this.”

“....that’s not mine.” you give a nod in the direction of the men’s sweater. the sparkle of amusement vanished from satoru's eyes, coinciding with his jaw dropping.

his grip on the dark sweatshirt tightened while his head darted back and forth from you to the clothing item. “then whose is it?!” 

“suguru’s.”

you think that you’ve broken him when his face scrunches up in disgust. it’s laughable how his mouth had managed to stay wide open the entire time.

“sugu-suguru?!” he splutters. you slowly nod, careful not to make any sudden movements that could provoke him any further. “why– how– explain yourself!”

you cast an uneasy glance at the sweater, finding it challenging to summon any recollections of how you obtained it, especially with satoru's piercing cerulean eyes fixed on you. his scrutinizing stare has the power to reduce you into a puddle.

“well? go on,” he urges you when you stay silent. 

“it’s nothing, really. i believe it was from that mission i had with suguru a while back. somewhere up north. i had packed light and suguru offered me his sweater.” you tap a finger on your chin to recall the memory. “i guess it just slipped my mind to return it.”

“slipped your mind, huh…” satoru sniffles before letting out a sneeze loud enough to wake up japan. you nearly jump out of your skin.

“suguru was just being friendly… and be quiet! yaga will have our heads if he finds you in the girls’ wing!” you warn the weary boy in front of you, prompting him to respond with a dramatic sigh.

“how mean!” he whines before making a pained expression. you quickly rush to his aid. when you make it to his bedside, satoru weakly hands you a clean tissue.

you stare at it blankly.

“be a darling and help me blow my nose?” he gestures for you to hold the tissue up for him. all you can hear are muffled whines when you shove him underneath your plush covers. 

when your flurry of attacks ends, he cautiously lifts his head from beneath the sheets. to his surprise, a steaming bowl of bitter melon miso soup is presented to him. while the broth isn't your personal favorite, shoko appreciates its bold flavor, spurring your decision to prepare it the night prior. despite its bitter components, the concoction had a perfect track record of treating illnesses. you have your brown haired friend to thank.

perhaps it was cruel of you to take enjoyment while he eyes the bowl in horror. you know his sweet palate couldn’t handle it.

he looks up at you with big pleading eyes while shaking his head. you roll your eyes.

“c’mon, it won’t kill you.” the bowl inches closer to him by your doing. “please?”

satoru's pallid complexion contorts into a hesitant frown. "i’ll eat it…” he concedes reluctantly. however, his gaze lingers on the bowl with a mixture of uncertainty and reluctance. you respond with a hopeful smile, but it fades when he adds, "on two conditions."

“this is for your own health, not mine satoru.” you remind him.

“doesn’t it pain you to see me suffer?” he brings up, eyes glittering in the darkness.

you suck in a breath. “...not really.” lie.

“you wound me, love.” he clutches his shirt like he has been critically hit. 

you bite your lip, tired of his theatrics. “what are the two conditions?”

just like that, gojo comes back to life.

“condition number one! you have to feed me.” he points one finger into the air, paired with an innocent smile. “and two: i want you to warm me up like that night in our first year.”

an unflattering appalled expression is cast over your face. no words leave your mouth for a good minute. “y-you’re disgusting. why are you the way you are?”

“love,” he sighs. “anyways, what kind of wife wouldn’t feed her husband while he’s dying?”

“satoru,” you warn. he was starting to babble nonsense again. “if i accept your conditions, will you shut up?” your eyes were starting to feel heavy. it was the middle of the night, after all.

he nods fervently.

carefully with the bowl of soup in hand, you gently squish yourself next to satoru on your full sized bed. the tight fit left you little room to move, forcing the two of you to nestle closely to each other. with a gentle maneuver, you rest your head on his chest. his arm slowly drapes itself protectively over your shoulder.

“your heart is beating awfully fast.” you whisper, tilting your head upward to take a glimpse of satoru’s feverish face. his breath hitches.

he takes a hand and holds your head back onto his chest to prevent your movement.

“shut it. i didn’t think you would actually accept my conditions.” he mumbles.

“don’t get used to it. this is another moment of weakness.”

you stir the spoon in the broth, basking in the silence of the night, save for satoru’s erratic heartbeat.

“this is very intimate isn’t it?” he gushes. “it’s almost like we’re married—”

“keep your side of the deal,” you remind him, lifting a spoonful of broth up to his mouth. satoru looks straight into your eyes as he opens his mouth to receive it.

his adam's apple bobs when he swallows, “i’m going to tell our grandkids that we were written in the stars.”

you shove another spoonful of soup into his mouth.

extra notes

satoru magically recovered from his fever the next morning.

his second condition (for you to warm him up like that night in your first year) refers to this fic from earlier on in the series.

satoru also made you promise to never accept another hoodie from suguru. if you needed one, satoru was more than willing to give you his! (you halfheartedly agree, only because he was acting all delirious because of his fever).

as of right now, there have only been three occasions where satoru has fallen asleep in your presence. he can testify that those were the best nights of sleep in his life.

shoko went into your room for a spare pair of stockings the next morning only to find you tucked into gojo’s chest. she chases him out of your room all while calling him a pervert . bless her heart.

[the-californicationist]

The Old Way

Listen... I don't even know what I'm on with this. Just... don't judge me. Omfg what is wrong with me.

AO3 Link -- TW: omegaverse wildness, biting, blood, etc.

Your people are starving, and your clan's Alpha has asked you, their only remaining Omega, to give yourself up as a sacrifice to save them. So, you agree, and you are to be mated to one of the Alphas of Clan 141, praying that it is to any of them except Alpha Price. He is known to have a knot that is impossible to take, but when you finally meet him, you're not sure of what's possible anymore. Will you risk it all to be with him, even if his knot might kill you? One way to find out…

The Old Way

You couldn’t see the stars. The shroud that hung over your head was made from fine, black silk, and through its thin organza, you could barely make out the shape of the Watcher in front of you, much less the glittering galactic expanse overhead. You were wrapped like a gift, and if you wanted to save the lives of everyone you’d ever loved, you would remain cloaked in your darkness, hidden, waiting for your big moment. More than anything, you wanted to pull your veil away from your eyes just to see the familiar constellations again, to comfort yourself with their shapes, to make one last independent choice before all of your volition was stolen from you forever. 

That wasn’t the right word. You couldn’t steal something that was given freely. You were not bound, and you were certainly not forced to wear the shadowed veil against your will. You had selected this path for yourself, and now you were living through the consequences of that decision.

As the only Omega in your clan – the first one born in seventy years – you were raised on the knowledge that you may one day be asked to give up your life for your clan. After the war, life was hard, and now that your people were stuck in a seemingly endless drought, it had become even more desperate. Your clan leader, Alpha Roan, had come to you six weeks ago with a terrible look in his eyes, a palpable guilt, still wearing his mourning collar for his long-lost mate, Omega Kiran, and he had asked you if you would be willing to undergo The Exchange.

His own wife had come to your clan through The Exchange, and although they had chosen to perform a private ceremony, you knew that it had been a challenge for her. Before she died, she had taught you much about your role, but you were still a youngling, and some things were just not for you to hear at such an age. 

You thought about the years that had passed after the loss of your clan’s Omega. Alpha Roan had insisted on your education, and your training, but the idea that you would be asked to leave your clan through The Exchange was always a distant threat. But, now, here it was. You had been called by your Alpha to sacrifice yourself for their benefit; not in a marriage of love, but in a clan trade. 

You had been asked by your Alpha to think about your choice. After he left you to ponder your choice, you sat down in your chambers surrounded by your Watchers, the women who had raised you, who had taught you to read, to write, to fight, and to charm. They looked at you with the same guilty, knowing eyes, and they asked you if you were prepared to make the sacrifice. 

“You do know what awaits you at the end of The Exchange, don’t you, Omega?” Watcher Trinity had asked you quietly, holding your hands in her shaking fingers, the wrinkled skin of her knuckles folding and stretching over her thin bones. 

You nodded, “Yes, Watcher. I am to be given to a new Alpha.”

She had looked at you then, her eyes sharp and calculating, trying to figure out how she would ask her next question.   

“Do you know the way in which you will be given, Omega?” 

Her tone chilled your heart, sinking through your body like ice across a pond, freezing you in place. You waited. There was more that she needed to say, and you allowed her to explain. 

And now that you knew the truth, you felt fully prepared to accept the terms of the agreement. You would deliver your people from their strife, and any pain, any shame, and any horror that you experienced from this point onward would be in service to your clan. You hoped that would be enough solace to sustain you. There was no shame in your sacrifice, you knew that. But, in your soul, you knew that knowing a thing and experiencing a thing were two vastly disparate sides of the same coin. 

You informed your clan Alpha, holding your chin high, 

“I accept the terms of The Exchange, Alpha Roan.”

“Your people are forever in your debt, Omega. Watchers,” he addressed your caregivers, “Please make preparations in the old way of our clan.”

“The old way, Alpha Roan?” Watcher Trinity had asked, her voice giving away her apprehension.

“Yes, Watcher. We will follow the law, no matter how… upsetting it may be. Clan 141 is too powerful for us to take any undue risks. If they do not accept her, we may not survive their engagement.”

Even in your sheltered little academy, you had heard of Clan 141. Their clan was small, but it was deeply feared. If any other clan dared step out of line, the 141 were there to rain hellfire and destruction down on them until there was nothing left. They were not cruel, but they abided no violent acts in their territory, and any whisper of rekindling the war efforts or of superseding the peace treaty was dealt with swiftly and decisively. 

Before the war, kings and presidents and generals had pulled the strings. Now that the world lay in ruins, the 141 was the only thing between your small clan and total destruction from larger, more aggressive packs. The 141 was the only reason your people still had other clans to trade with; they had made sure smaller communities had access to fair market costs for food and services, and no one dared to shun your merchants now that you were under their protective wing. 

Your Watchers had done their best to ease you into your preparations. Clan 141 would be at the neutral ground in six weeks, and your team had tried to make every moment of that window meaningful in your training. They had started slowly, teaching you to stretch your untouched hole with your fingers, showing you diagrams and depictions of your own anatomy, warning you of the physical trial of taking an Alpha’s knot. 

It was mortifying when you endured your first test. Watcher Gillar and Watcher Bhin had made you sit in front of a mirror and show them your progress. You were told to clench and release the muscles of your hole on command, fluttering it to prove its strength. Then, they had produced a carved, glass phallus, expecting you to practice on a smaller model before moving you up to a more advanced size. 

You took it from their hands, looking at its curved, rigid shape with wide-eyed curiosity, trying to swallow your grief at being seen doing the unthinkable by people you considered to be your closest friends and caregivers. It almost made you regret your decision. But, your people needed you, so you rested the smooth tip of the phallus at the entrance of your hole and began to shove it inside of yourself. 

This new feeling was overwriting your mind, so alien and yet so very comforting to you, confounding in its sensations yet overwhelming in its unique, bright pleasure.

It was a struggle, but you managed to slip it into your body almost down to the large, bulbous knot on the end. The sharp pain of being entered for the first time was not as terrible as you had feared, but when you pulled the phallic rod back out of you, it was cloudy with your slick and your blood. 

“Try the knot, Omega. Your Alpha will be twice as large as this, at least. You do not want your first experience to be at the ceremony. I know that you will want to appear strong in front of the other clans.” Watcher Bhin encouraged you, holding you to her shoulder as she sat behind you, trying her best to comfort you through such a harrowing ordeal. 

You put their practice cock back inside of you, slipping down further than you had, feeling the wide anatomy pressing against your entrance, but still unable to take the full knot inside. You pushed and pulled with your muscles, just like your Watchers had taught you, but it wouldn’t budge. You were panting, sweating, and teetering on the edge of an embarrassing orgasm in front of your Watchers, and you gasped out, exasperated, 

“I can’t. I don’t think I can do this, Watcher.”

“Lay back, Omega. I will help you,” Watcher Gillar said softly, replacing your hand with hers at the base of the phallus. 

You lay down on your back against your soft pillows, trying to avoid your Watchers’ pitying eyes. Then, you felt a cool gel being applied around the sore ring of your hole; something to ease the way since there was no true Alpha present to coax your slick from your glands. Watcher Bhin had held your hand in hers, gripping you tightly, letting you squeeze her through the pain, wiping away your tears as the glass bulb of the pretend knot began to split you, stretching your body before finally popping into place.

You Watchers had comforted you for a few minutes, but then you were told to begin your meditations.

With much difficulty, you sat up, feeling the heavy knot nestled against your walls. Then, Watcher Bhin handed you a firm pillow, and you understood that you must straddle it, and that it would push the knot against you. You were to train your body and your mind to accept it so that you would have the stamina to withstand the ceremony. 

“Do not be afraid to listen to your body, Omega. We will return to help you remove it and recover. I will light some incense for you. Concentrate on your strength.”

You nodded, uncrossing your legs and settling yourself over the firm pillow, feeling the deep, sacral grind of the phallus as you set your weight against it. When you were left alone, you began your breathing techniques, but all the while, a flush was rushing across your skin, the shadow of a rising desire to come, and yet subtly different. Something whispered in your mind, and you wondered if you could call your slick down yourself, without an Alpha’s help. 

So, you tried, rocking back and forth across the pillow, churning the knot within your core, feeling the rounded tip rubbing against your deepest parts. You removed your robes, letting the flush keep you warm, watching yourself in the tall mirror, meeting your own eyes. 

It took only minutes before a true orgasm was upon you, but you tried to hold it at bay, searching through the sparkling, cracking fog of pleasure for the part of you that made you special. No Beta would survive a knotting; they never did, and it was a crime to even try. But, you were meant for it, and you knew that your Watchers’ training would not let you down. You breathed through the bliss, reaching out with your mind towards your slick, imagining it, visualizing your success, manifesting it deep within you. 

When the Watchers found you later that night, they woke you with cool rags and worried faces,

“What happened, Omega? How did you…” Watcher Gillar looked down at your bare legs to where the pillow sat under you, seeing a torrent of slick and milky come covering your skin and the silk of the bolster, confused by how you could produce it without an Alpha’s beckoning call. It was just not done, not even considered to be a possibility. 

After that night, there was much chatter amongst the Watchers. They consulted old tomes, dusting off the pages in the library of your little academy where you trained far away from the rest of your village, kept up here in your tower like a Delphic oracle, buried like a treasure. 

The training became more intense, and each practice phallus that your Watchers produced became harder and heavier, each bearing knots that were unfathomably large. You used your newfound power to face each of your challenges, less ashamed now to perform in front of your team, but knowing that the ceremony would be something else entirely. 

You had asked about it one night as your Watchers were helping you bathe after a particularly difficult practice session, 

“Will there truly be none absent from the ceremony, Watcher Trinity?”

“Only the cubs and their mothers are forbidden from attending. Otherwise, all clan members are obligated to witness The Exchange. We will even invite Clan Farlight and Clan Seres to the feast as a token of goodwill. You know this, Omega,” her tone was a little impatient, wondering why you were asking such a basic question, “Your Alpha has asked for your ceremony to be conducted in the old way, according to the original scrolls.” 

“I am worried that I will dishonor you with my abilities. I cannot seem to take even these false knots without tears,” you repeated the old scripture, chanting it rote to your Watcher just as you used to do when you had started your adult training, “Omegas are vessels. They will silently submit. The ceremony will be still, honoring the sacrifice.”

Watcher Trinity knelt down beside your bath and made you look at her. Her eyes softened, and she told you,

“Yes, that is what is written, but it is not that simple. You have already honored us with your sacrifice. We have no grain. We have skinny, milkless goats, and our well is nearly dry. When we feast after your ceremony, the full bellies of your people will mean so much more than any perceived weakness that you are reluctant to show.” She grabbed your hand out of the warm water, holding it in hers, “If you need to cry, we will understand, and we will be comforting you from the crowd. Trust me, Omega.”

You tried to put it all out of your mind as you marched down the path, following behind your Watchers as they surrounded you, adorned in their own ceremonial garb. They had worn their armor and their long, red robes, carrying huge, black scythes like walking sticks, as was the custom of your clan. Your Alpha was walking in the front of your pack, guiding your clan to the meeting point. You could just see the white, canvas tops of the tents and yurts that had been constructed for the ceremony, meant to house hundreds of people for at least three days. Yours was the biggest, its adornment the most splendid. But that was little comfort to your frayed nerves. 

You were miles from home at this point, missing the comfort of your room and your books, knowing that you would never return there, and that perhaps your new Alpha would not allow you to keep any of your belongings from your old life. 

You’d heard horror stories from some of the Betas in your clan, tales of Alphas who used their Omegas like slaves, keeping them clad in irons, surviving in dark dungeons only to be used to breed and to give their Alphas carnal pleasure. 

While you were being prepared for this journey, a pair of Beta women had helped you paint your skin, drawing intricate symbols and prayers in gold flake, chittering about the ceremony and the feast without knowing what you had been through over the past six weeks.

“This is the first time I will witness a ceremony done in the old way,” Beta Lilia said. 

“Do you know which Alpha will claim you?” Lilia’s friend, Beta Tyran, asked you, not knowing how loaded her words were.

You shook your head; you didn’t even know how many Alphas belonged to Clan 141. Lilia gushed about them for you, taking the conversation out of your hands,

“Clan 141 has four Alphas! Can you imagine? I hear that they have an entire army of Omegas as well. Alpha Garrick is so handsome, and he has three gorgeous Omegas. They are almost too beautiful to look upon.. I saw him when I was at the central market once. He was leading a team, hunting the vagabonds who set fire to a farmer’s field, you remember when that happened? It was years ago now. He was so imposing. But, that other one was there, too.” 

She made a face that was strong enough to make you ask about it,

“Which one?”

“The Ghost, Alpha Riley. They say that no one has seen his face. He wears a terrifying skull mask. I heard from Yair that he has three Omegas as his guards, all masked as well. Yes! Guards! They have armor and weapons and huge, bulging muscles. Beautiful and lethal –”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Beta Tyran interrupted, “No one would give their Omegas weapons. No one would let their Omegas out in the public markets! Imagine the danger.”

Lilia shrugged, “Yair said that these Omegas were the danger.” 

Then, you heard about Alpha MacTavish, a descendant from one of the ancient warlords, charming and fearsome. He kept two Omegas as his brides, always pregnant, but almost as fearsome as Alpha Riley’s guards. Alpha MacTavish often expected them to travel with their Beta friends, to take their children up into the mountains, hunting and fishing and exploring outdoors. All sorts of stories about his large, loving family. You silently hoped you would be claimed by him. It would be nice to live amongst Omegas and their cubs. 

“Which one is their Apex Alpha? There must be one in a clan with so many Alphas,” you mused, asking the girls since you did not know much about Clan 141 yourself.

The Betas shared a look, and then Lilia shook her head,

“You will not be claimed by him, Omega. Don’t worry.”

“Why?” You pried, using your influence to force her to tell you.

“His name is Alpha Price, the leader of Clan 141. He’s the deadliest man in the entire land, and he’s the one who destroyed Clan Konni.”

The weight of that news sank in, and the dramatic tone of her story had attracted other Betas and Watchers to gather around you to listen to her tale, 

“Alpha Price has never claimed an Omega. They say that he had tried. He had found one of Alpha Garrick’s Omegas to be very pretty, but she tried to take his knot and failed, so Alpha Garrick took her under his protection instead.”

“Failed?” Watcher Bhin asked, shocked by the implication. 

“My sister was a medic who served with the Alliance in the most recent skirmish, and the 141 helped defeat the rebels who were killing members of Clan Darrah a few years ago. She said that she served under the doctor who had healed Alpha Garrick’s Omega. Said he’d never seen anything like it before in his life. She was so strong, and yet…”

Lilia’s words hung heavy in the air, and all of the women looked at each other and then at you, suddenly feeling the weight of your sacrifice, ashamed at their earlier levity. Tyran shook her head and patted you on the arm, 

“Don’t worry. Alpha Price will not claim you. You have nothing to worry about.”

That night, painted gold and covered in your black silks, you sat in your tent and meditated while you waited for the other clans to arrive. Your mind kept wandering to Alpha Price and his lonely existence. Had he really injured an Omega during his claiming of her? How large must his knot have been to do so? It made you shudder to think about it, and yet deep inside of you, your core warmed from the thought. If he imprinted on you…

But, imprinting was just a myth. Something only written in old texts as a footnote or a story. It was a part of the ritual of The Exchange, but it wasn’t real. 

“Omega,” Watcher Trinity interrupted your meditation and peeked her head into your tent, “It is time to present The Cloth.”

Clan 141 was here, then. 

The ritual of The Exchange began with The Shroud, which you were already wearing. Then, it was The Cloth. If all went well, it would then be The Meeting. And finally, The Ceremony.

The Cloth was a gift from the Omega to her new Alpha, a token of her affection and a chance for him to smell her scent for the first time. In ancient legends, this is when her true mate would imprint upon her, her Omegan scent bringing out his Alphic marks, dark spots or stripes across his neck and back, making him look like a big cat, ready to bite into her neck and claim her as his own. 

She tried to shake herself out of that fantasy world. All she could hope was that one of their Alphas would be drawn to her scent enough to accept her. Her people were depending on her.

“Here is your cloth, Omega. I embroidered it myself. I hope that it honors you,” Watcher Trinity handed you a wooden box, carved and adorned with great care, and when you opened it, you found a red silk square of fabric, sewn with the sigils and symbols of your clan in fine gold thread. You smiled up at your Watcher and reached out to hold her in your arms,

“It’s perfect, Watcher. Thank you for caring for me.”

You were both fighting off tears when she finally pulled away. You hoped that your Alpha would at least let you say goodbye after the ceremony, even if you might never see her again. 

Watcher Trinity and all of the other women left you alone again in your tent, giving you privacy to prepare The Cloth. You made yourself naked, and you began to rub the silk across your neck and glands, trying to soak your scent into the piece. Then, you wiped it between your legs, swiping up some of your wetness to coat the fabric. Usually, this would be enough. You could call your Watcher back into the tent and give her the box, and you would be done. 

But, something in your heart told you to try to call out your slick. You listened to your instincts, and you began to rub the soft fabric against your folds, bringing your own pleasure to a warm, shining height. Just when you thought you might not be able to do it, that your nervousness would make it too difficult or that you might black out again from the effort, you felt something inside of you slip free. Then, your hole was flooded, the orgasm making your vision go blurry and form spots at the edges, your whole body convulsing from the strength of your pleasure, and you had to lay down just to try and stay awake through your gushing bliss. 

You felt it coat the silk and your hand, a thick, milky slick, and your heart swelled with pride. You knew that a gift this special would sway the attention of at least one of their Alphas. You trusted in your skills and training that you were worthy of this ceremony and that your people would be saved. 

Sitting up, you carefully opened the box and returned The Cloth to its resting place, soaked with your scent. You took time to clean yourself up, stuffing wet blankets into your laundry packs and hiding them away, remaking your nest before your Watcher would know what you had done. You weren’t sure why you were keeping a secret from them, but you just felt like this was something between you and your Alpha. A promise, of sorts. 

You replaced your black silks and veil over your otherwise unclothed body and called your Watchers. They entered your tent along with Alpha Roan. 

His eyes widened as he approached you, taking the box from your hands. Quietly, as if knowing that this was an extremely private affair, he whispered to you, 

“What have you done, little Omega?”

“I am doing what needs to be done, Alpha. Please, deliver my message to my new Master.”

You use of the ancient terminology caught your clan Alpha off guard, but you were glad of it. If this was to be done in the old way, then you would withstand it, but you would also do it your way. You were the Omega, here, and you were the reason your clan would survive this struggle. It was time you started acting like the heroine that you were. You would be your people’s strength, no matter the cost.

“Very well,” Alpha Roan sighed, closing the box, calling out to your team, “Watchers, bring your Omega to The Cloth ritual.”

You were guided to the path again, leaving your tent behind and walking towards the big, outdoor theater. It was a crude coliseum of sorts, a large circular pit lined with rows and rows of carved seating that was cut into the land. People had already begun to line the viewing platforms, each clan decorated in their traditional garb. You felt proud to see the stripe of red where your people sat, holding each others’ hands and praying for your safe arrival. 

You were not greeted with raucous applause but instead with reverent silence. Alpha Roan walked in front of your Watchers, and you were the last one into the theater, dressed only in your sheer shroud, trying your best not to feel self-conscious about the fact that - because of the firelight - everyone could see your naked, painted body through the veil, even though you were covered head to toe in the organza. In the tent, the lighting was low and kept you in darkness, hiding your body under the thin silk. But, not here in the theater. Your skin was illuminated by the torches, and you knew that even your friends and neighbors could now see your most private parts. 

You made sure that your face did not give away your lingering shame. 

Alpha Roan took center stage, and you saw the Alphas of Clan 141 for the first time. 

Alpha MacTavish was standing between his two Omegas, and you mused that his oldest children must have stayed behind to care for his cubs. He was dressed in his Clan’s black gear, covered in armor like a gladiator, his head shaven into a mohawk, spiked and messy on the crown of his head. His body was huge and stocky, and the Omegas seated at his sides looked so tiny compared to his bulk. But, they were strong. Their bellies were round with the promise of future cubs, and their skin and hair glowed like the stars. 

Alpha Garrick stood next to him, his Omegas seated together to his right, dressed in the finest robes you had ever seen. He clearly had a type, and you thought that they looked like triplets, all decorated in jewels and gold, riches you’d never even dreamt of. Their Alpha was every bit as handsome as the stories had promised. He had pouty, full lips that were curled in a snarky sort of smile, and his soft brown eyes exuded pure confidence. His hands were wide and powerful, resting on his curved blade that lay sheathed at his hip. 

Alpha Riley was masked, as you had been told, as were his Omegas. They were not seated, and every bit of armor that was strapped to his hulking body was also strapped to them. They had glittering knives, bows, arrows, and slings, looking like they could win their own war by themselves. Their bodies were heavily muscled, and all four of them seemed as tall as Alpha MacTavish, standing proudly in leather boots. 

Then, you saw Alpha Price. He was holding a large wooden stick, at least seven feet tall, with hundreds of notches sliced into the side. You wondered what he was keeping track of, and you shuddered to know. His beard was neatly trimmed, and his hair was cut high and tight on the sides. He was certainly bigger and better muscled than each of his men, but that was not what you noticed about him first. It was his eyes. They were piercingly blue, like glacial ice, and they were looking right at you. Hungry. 

Something inside of your core tightened under his scrutiny, but Alpha Roan’s voice shook you from your trance,

“Clan Arlos welcomes Clan 141 to The Exchange. We present you with our offering, an unmated Omega, 26 years of age, fully trained in the old ways of our people. She is our greatest gift, and we ask for your acceptance of our sacrifice.”

Alpha Roan held up the box with The Cloth inside for all to see. He set it on the large, marble altar in the middle of the stage and backed away from it, waiting for the other Alphas to take part in the ritual. 

Alpha Price spoke, and your body nearly trembled at the sound of his deep, purring voice. You were more nervous than you thought, and you tried to breathe to manage yourself. 

“We will consider your honorable offering, Clan Arlos.”

With that, he slammed his huge stick against the stony ground and Alpha MacTavish stepped up to the altar. He opened the box, and along with the other Alphas in attendance, his body had a visceral reaction. His hands went to touch the cloth and he brought it to his nose, smelling your scent with a sort of wonder and amazement. 

Then, to your great relief, he raised his hand, palm outward, as a show of his acceptance of your scent. If you accepted him as well, you would be mated. 

But, the slamming sound of the stick shook you out of your celebrations. Alpha Price called up Alpha Garrick. 

This was most unusual. Typically, only one Alpha had to agree. It wasn’t like you had much choice in the matter. Even if Alpha MacTavish’s scent did not stir your heart, you would still submit to him as expected. This was not a marriage of love but of convenience. 

MacTavish looked back over his shoulder at Price, just as shocked as you were. His Omegas looked even more taken aback, strangely offended that you would not automatically join them. But, Alpha MacTavish returned the cloth to the box and made room for Garrick, disappointed and visibly confused. 

Alpha Garrick opened the box and buried his face against The Cloth, breathing in once, twice, and then tasting the fabric, right in front of everyone. It was his right, but it was a little audacious. 

His palm went up, high in the air, and his Omegas smiled and held each other’s hands, excited at your acceptance. 

Another loud slam. Another rejection. 

You may still end up with MacTavish or Garrick after negotiations, you remembered, but you were now wondering why Alpha Price had chosen to test you against all three of his men before making a decision. It was very odd. Alpha Roan looked greatly concerned. 

Alpha Riley approached the altar, his gloved hands prying open the box, then, he lifted the bottom of his mask to reveal his mouth and nose. The slightest murmur of shock rippled through the crowd. He bent to smell your scent, and he raised his hand in the air, signaling his acceptance before replacing his mask. You thought you caught the hint of a smile just before his pale lips disappeared beneath the skull plate again. 

Slam! The stick pounded against the floor.

All of Clan 141 turned to look at Alpha Price at once. Your heart stopped. Why would he… Why would Alpha Price want to undergo The Cloth ritual himself? He had no Omega. Surely, he wouldn’t claim you now, not after what had happened. You watched Alpha Garrick’s Omegas. One of them stared at Alpha Price with wide, glossy eyes. You thought that it must be his prior candidate for a mate. She was afraid for you. They were all afraid.

All eyes were on Alpha Price as he approached the altar, and the entire theater was silent as he took The Cloth in his hands. He lay it out flat, in no rush, inspecting the wet stain that you had left for him, using his thumb to feel the fine, gold embroidery. Then, his eyes darted up to yours. He was the first one to look at you while he held The Cloth to his nose, that icy gaze making you tremble with anticipation. 

You were so lost in his eyes that you didn’t see what was stirring the crowd. There was a loud gasp and then an explosion of whispers. You looked around, trying to understand what was happening. Then, when he tucked The Cloth into his breast pocket, keeping you for himself, you saw it. 

Long, red lines began to stain his skin like lightning. All of his veins tattooed themselves across his neck, and although his armor was covering his shoulders, you knew that the marks would be there as well. 

Alpha Price had imprinted for you. 

Then, he silenced the crowd by raising his right hand, palm up, staring at you the entire time. 

You were whisked away, surrounded by your Watchers, hearing Alpha Roan’s voice behind you, sounding like protest, but you couldn’t make out the words. Compared to the initial silence, the area erupted in a shattering din, clans shouting and yelling over each other, the drama from the ritual dividing the people. 

You thought you would be taken back to your tent, but you were brought to a large lake about five hundred yards from the theater. It was quiet again. No one was allowed to follow you here, it seemed. 

Watcher Trinity tried to explain in a rushed whisper, helping you climb into a boat and rowing you out to the middle of the lake,

“There is a dispute for your claiming. Alpha Roan will negotiate new terms, and Clan 141 must decide who will be your Alpha. It will be alright, Omega. It’ll be alright.”

She sounded like she was trying to reassure herself more than you.

“What now?”

“Because there is not just one Alpha who has claimed you, they will undergo a ritual called The Trial. It is a fight; a test of will. Whichever Alpha can win will be granted the right to appeal to you first. If you reject him, then you will be given a chance to hear the appeal from the second.”

“So, it will be up to me, then?”

“Yes. Alpha Price has put the choice in your hands. Very odd, and not in our custom, but we must honor his wishes. You will wait here for the winner.”

You looked around. You were now in the middle of the lake, and there was a platform lingering just below the water. It was a wide stone block, about three meters wide in each direction. Watcher Trinity helped you out of the boat and you stepped tentatively onto the platform. 

“Will you wait with me?” You asked, feeling the uncertainty and fear finally get the better of you. 

“No, my Omega. I cannot. These waters are forbidden to Betas. Only Alphas and Omegas can touch it. Take this. It is your flare. If you are in trouble, if he tries to get to you, fire it high into the sky and we will rescue you. You can do this. I know you are strong. Wait patiently for your Alpha,” she paused, grabbing your hand, “I realize you are doing this for us, but please, follow your heart.”

“I will, Watcher.” 

So, you waited. You meditated, standing in an inch of cool lake water as you tried to commune with the land around you. And you waited some more. Hours passed until, finally, you saw torches. Your Watchers lined one side of the lake, and they greeted the newcomers. Then, you saw him. Alpha Price was being stripped down by your Watchers. They took his weapons from him, and then his clothes, making him naked on the shoreline. He craned his neck, trying to look for you in the lake, but it was dark and you were dressed in black. 

You could see him just fine, though. His huge body was covered in short, curly hair, dense and dark against his skin. His muscles bulged and popped as he peeled away his layers of clothing. They left his undergarments on, little more than a linen loincloth. Then, you saw your Watchers attach a huge, metal collar around his neck. They clamped it together with a padlock in the back, and a huge chain was attached at the latch. 

They bound his hands, chaining them together, and then loaded him into the boat. They rowed toward you with his back facing the platform, and as he got closer, you saw his imprint markings, red and raised like jagged scars across his neck and shoulders. Your scent had marked him permanently. The welts would go down, and the red would fade, but it would always be there, evidence of his imprinting. 

The boat reached you, and he climbed out of it, sitting on the opposite side of the platform from you, just far enough to be out of range for your scent. 

His eyes found yours again, staring at you through your veil, finding your gaze with a natural ease. He held a small box in his hands, and you thought you saw the phantom of a smile across his lips as you looked over his face. 

The boat rowed to shore, dragging the long chain all the way back, and you were alone with him. It was quiet for a long while. You were just staring at each other, studying each other, trapped in a silent battle. 

You looked down at his hands, noticing for the first time his cut, bloody knuckles, and he saw the worry cross over your eyes.

“They’re fine,” he said quietly, “My men. If that’s what you were wondering.”

“But, you triumphed over them, clearly,” you replied, not trusting your own voice. 

He chuckled a bit, sighing, 

“I did.”

“You fought for me, then.”

The laughing stopped, and he lifted his chin, proudly, 

“I did.”

“And you are here for my acceptance.”

He didn’t respond to your cue, but instead, he took the box in his hands and slid it across the platform, skittering it along the surface of the water, making little splashes as it landed in front of you. 

You reached for it, opening it up to reveal a shining key. 

“Throw it in the lake,” he commanded you, using his Alpha’s voice to bend your will. 

It shocked you, and you were so close to obeying, but you stopped, cutting your eyes at him,

“What is this?”

“Throw. It. Omega.”

His voice seared through your blood, calling to you with old magic. You fought hard to keep your mind under your own control, 

“Stop! Stop it. Tell me what this is, Alpha.”

“It unlocks my collar. Otherwise, if I make so much as a shift in your direction that they don’t like,” his head turned to look back toward your watchers, “They will pull me into the lake, and I will drown.”

“And if I unlock it…”

“Then, you will be my mate,” his tone turned vitriolic then, “And you will die.”

You let his words sink in, your curiosity overcoming your fear,

“You believe your knot cannot be taken.”

He spat back, 

“My belief is not –”

“But, it’s not up to you,” you interrupted him, “Is it?”

The shock that washed over his bright eyes filled you with a sort of sick satisfaction. You should be afraid of him, but your roles were reversed out here on this rock, and you were holding him under your command. 

“Toss that key, girl. MacTavish fought hard for you. He’ll care for you. He’s a good man.”

“Are you a good man?”

“No,” he growled, his eyes dropping to the water, examining the chains around his own hands, inspecting them for the bloodstains that he obviously thought should be there. 

“I am here for my people, Alpha Price. I am not looking for a husband. I am a resource to be traded for other resources. My clan needs The Exchange. Our people are starving, and I –”

“I would not let them starve,” Price’s eyes shot back up, indignant that you would suggest that he would leave you and your clan without food or water. 

You let yourself smile slightly, teasing him, 

“Spoken like a good man.”

He twisted his lips over his teeth, but he stayed quiet. You continued to torment him, 

“Why did you raise your hand for me?”

He sighed, sitting forward, sloping his shoulders toward you,

“I couldn’t help it. My Alpha…He…” He paused, searching for the words, “I could smell you through the box. I knew you from the moment I saw you walk through the arena. And when my men all raised their hands for you, I knew you would be accepted as our Clan Omega. You are mine in every way that matters. And I cannot have you.”

His voice was full of bitterness. You wanted to smell him. What were the chances that he was your true mate? One-sided imprinting was rare, but true mates were one in a million. 

You stood, surprising him, and he jolted back, sitting up right. The chain around his wrists clattering. You looked over at the shoreline. Your Watchers held the long chain around his neck, heavy and sagging into the black water, ready to yank it tight if he lunged for you, if he fell prey to his Alphic instinct to breed you. 

He watched you approach, seeing how the water rippled with every step you took, gazing upon the dripping silks that clung to your legs, devouring you with his eyes. You stopped in front of his crossed legs, Knowing that he could smell you now. Your pussy was shielded only with a few layers of silk, and you watched him flare his nose, sniffing you right in front of his face, blowing a slow exhale of air through his lips, making the organza billow between your legs. 

“Can I smell your scent, Alpha?” You whispered, your voice slicing through the silence of the still lake. 

His chains clattered as he twisted his head to look up at you, peeling his eyes away from your pretty pussy to meet your gaze. Then, he bent his head to one side, giving you his neck, showing you his scent gland, a sea of red stripes emanating from its center. 

You bent over him, closing the gap, steadying yourself by laying a gentle hand on his huge shoulder. Then, you took a long pause and breathed him in. His scent swirled through your body, wrecking your other senses. It was only him. Alpha. Alpha. Alpha. Your Alpha. Your mate. Your true mate. 

You felt the red marks of your imprint streak across your skin, and his eyes widened in shock as he saw them branch through your veins and across your gland just as his had done. 

The click of a lock made his eyes flash back to you, and with that movement, his heavy collar tumbled into the lake, the drag of the chain singing as it scraped the side of the platform. 

“What have you done, my Omega?” Price breathed. 

It was the second time you’d been asked that question. Your response was still the same:

“I am doing what needs to be done, Master. I am giving myself to you, my true mate.”

The boats were in the water the moment the collar slipped from his neck. The Watchers were on you in moments, and Price’s Beta soldiers were there to collect him. You watched as they rowed you two apart, taking you back to your camps to prepare for the ceremony. 

Your Watchers were in a rush. There were only a few hours until sunrise. Your wet robes were switched out for red ones, and a red veil adorned your head. Underneath, you were rubbed and painted and sprayed with oils, until finally, Watcher Trinity came forward with a bowl of salve. She had made it herself, you could tell. She cared for you so deeply. 

“I trust you, Omega. I know you know what you’re doing. But, please take this. It will help your muscles relax for him, and it will make it easier to bring on your natural defenses.”

She was being coy, avoiding using the word to refer to your slick, knowing that you had your own method of calling it forth using your special power. But, you took it from her anyway, and after you were left alone again to meditate, you used two fingers to massage it into your hole, feeling its effects begin to warm you, making your flesh supple and pliant. 

A hand curled around your tent flap, pulling it open. Instead of your Watcher, you saw one of Garrick’s Omegas. It was her, the one who had failed to take your Alpha’s knot.

She stepped inside,

“May I speak with you?”

You nodded, motioning for her to sit,

“Yes, but I’m afraid I already know what you are about to say.”

Her eyes widened, 

“If you know, then why have you accepted this? Alpha MacTavish was his second. He is not to your liking? His Omegas are kind and –”

“No, they were all to my liking. I am eager to join your pack in whichever way I can, but Alpha Price is my true mate.”

You showed her your skin from under the red silks, knowing she could not see them through the red of the veil. She gaped at them, 

“Your… true mate? He could… This could kill you, Omega. I don’t want to see you come to harm, and it would destroy him. I saw how he was after my accident. I nearly blamed myself for his deep sorrow.”

“I trust my training, Omega, and I am so grateful for your support, but he is my mate. What is meant to happen to me, will.” You stood with her, seeing your Watchers hovering just outside the tent, signaling them that you were ready to leave. 

“Then, I trust you as well. The others are so excited to meet you. I wish you an easy path, and I hope your ceremony is just as you want it to be. After this, you will be our Clan Omega, and I will serve you until the end of my days.”

She kissed your cheek through your veil and left you to be delivered back to the altar. 

For a long time, you had wondered if this final walk away from your pack would be a sad one. You expected every step to be filled with hesitation and fear. But, the only thing you felt was joy. Your mate awaited you at the end of this long path, and you were ready to submit to him. He was worthy of your strength, and he would help you deliver your people from danger. You would rule beside him, helping him use the 141 for good, eradicating the evil from your land. 

The sun’s pink wash was rising out of the horizon line just as you reached the theater. The crowd was silent again, and you saw the pallor and shock painted on all of their faces. They were expecting a funeral instead of a feast. They had no idea why anyone would be so desperate as to sacrifice their only Omega to this Alpha, especially when it was not necessary. But, they didn’t realize that you were no prisoner. You were no one’s puppet. You were in charge, here, and your Alpha would breed you as you commanded him to. 

Your Watchers led you to the altar, kissing your hands through the thin cloth as they passed you to take their seats near Clan Arlos, tears in their eyes and staining their cheeks, and finally, your clan Alpha approached you.

“Alpha Roan,” you greeted him. 

“Little Omega,” he smiled, kissing your hands just as your Watchers had done. He didn’t need to, but it was his way of showing everyone that he trusted your choice, “I hope you know what you are doing.”

“I do,” you said, smiling at him through your red silk veil. 

Then, Alpha Price’s men came through the center of the theater, each of them bending to kiss your hands. But, instead of the back of your knuckles, they turned them over to kiss your palms, a sign that they would accept what you had to give them. Alpha Riley was first, and he lifted his mask to show you his mouth and chin, his kiss warm and tender against your skin. Then, Alpha Garrick knelt down, placing multiple kisses along your fingers and wrists, displaying his loyalty and respect. Finally, Alpha MacTavish knelt before you, daring to whisper to you as he kissed your palms, 

“Brave lass.”

You used your thumb to pet his lip, acknowledging his trust in you. 

Then, it was time for the Omegas to join you. They approached as a unit, not individually as their Alphas had done, and they helped you lay on the altar, guiding your body back onto the marble platform. They pulled at your silks, allowing the crowd to see your naked body, painted in fine brushes of intricate gold designs, of prayers and songs of your people, their symbols adorning you from neck to toe. Finally, they began to kiss you, licking and sucking at your mouth like lovers, showing their devotion to you as their clan Omega. 

As they kissed you, your skin began to flush hot, your body somehow knowing what was about to happen to you. The Omegas felt your fire against their lips, and they pulled your legs apart, each of them bending to lick and suck at your flower’s drooling petals, slurping and sucking up your creamy nectar. They were at your breasts, your neck, your belly, your hands and feet. You were overwhelmed with pleasure, shaking and trembling under their affection, yet moved by their deep loyalty. You knew you would be safe with them. They would care for you just as your clan had done. 

Then, you heard the familiar slam of a longstaff. Your Alpha had arrived. 

According to the ceremony, you were meant to be still and silent as a showing of your acceptance. If you moved or cried out in any way, you risked a clan war, as taking a mate without their consent was a dark offense. You had to prove to your people that you were here of your own free will, and even though you were feeling the static cling of apprehension beginning to worm its way into your chest, you tried to breathe through it, trusting your Alpha to lead you through this moment with his protective power. 

Your legs were lowered to the stirrup-style rests that were carved just below the stone table, keeping your knees wide apart, allowing your pussy to drip openly, glistening with the beginnings of your slick. You calmed yourself as they left you alone, each of them kissing you softly once more to show their reverence. 

Then, you heard the clatter of fallen armor. He was undressing, removing his warlord’s mantle and coming to you fully bare. You spotted him between the vee of your legs as he approached the dais, his imprint marks flushed a deep wine red, his body shining with the traditional oils, meant to give him another layer of aphrodisiacs, promoting his production of his seed, keeping his cock tall and hard. 

But, you knew that your imprint on his gland would do more than all of their drugs combined. He would kill every last person in this arena to get to you at this point, and although you had consented to this joining, you were no longer controlling it. He would take you, no matter what. 

Then, when he got close enough to your platform, you saw it. It was standing proudly against his thick, furry belly, dripping with precome and lubricants, glittering in the rising sun. His cock was immense. You had not practiced on one so large. And his knot was larger than your two fists pressed together. He was intact, and his foreskin was slipping down his flushed head, unable to contain the swelling glans. Your body threatened to quiver from your suspense, and you tried to move your mind into your meditative trance. 

As he approached, he did not go straight for his position between your legs. Instead, he walked around the front of the marble platform and bent to look you in your eyes, leaning his head down for a deep, heady kiss. He fed you his tongue and suckled on yours, letting it writhe inside of his mouth, rubbing against his own probing muscle.

He pulled away to gaze upon you, his eyes soft and full of joy. You smiled up at him, watching as he enjoyed the rest of your body, caressing your breasts, admiring your paintings. 

“Did my clan show you their loyalty, my Omega?”

“Yes, Master,” you answered quietly. 

“Are you prepared for me to show you mine?”

“Yes, Master. I am,” you replied, giving him a brave face despite the absolute weapon that was slobbering for you against his belly. You wanted to taste it, but now was not the time. 

He returned to the base of your platform, kneeling in front of your wet hole, bending to place his mouth against you. He began to suck, pulling your soft lips into his mouth like he was starving, lapping up the beginnings of your body’s fluids, moaning from the taste and the smell of your scent. You wanted to moan, you wanted to pin his head to your trembling quim, but you didn’t dare move a muscle or make a single sound. Breathing in, breathing out, letting the sparks of an orgasm rush through you, bringing tears to your eyes from holding back so much pleasure. 

Your Watcher’s salve was almost too effective. It had made you pliant, but now you were beyond sensitive, able to feel the pound of your own heartbeat through your hole, desperate for something to press inside of you. You needed his cock. 

But, he did not give it to you. He just sucked and sucked and sucked, and his fingers began to rub along the entrance of your slippery hole, pressing down on your pussy’s walls, testing their strength. You fluttered for him, just like your Watchers had taught you, and you felt him stumble in his movements, shocked by your power. 

He stood between your legs, his face and beard soaking from his meal, letting you drip off of his chin like a messy hound drinking from a river. Then, to test your resolve, he teased you with a little bit of meanness, stepping forward to let his cock lay along your body, measuring himself on the outside of you. He reached far beyond your navel, his lubed phallus warm and heavy, his knot resting in the softness of your folds, and you could feel him throbbing for you. 

You didn’t dare move, but you wanted to cradle his cock in your hands, to rub up and down his length, to feel the smoothness of his head and the firmness of his knot. But, you stayed stock still, showing the crowd that you would not waver. There was some soft chittering from the clans, the shock at his size obviously enough to break onlookers out of their respectful quiet. 

Then, he began notching his head at the entrance of your pussy, letting the tip slide up and down your tight ring of muscles that guarded your entrance.      

“Last chance, Omega. Call it off. Cry out, and my own men will cut me down,” he bade you under his breath, having a hard time holding his words and sentences together, his voice shaking in his throat. 

You looked up at him with closed lips, making a point to give him a soft smile as a response. 

No deal. 

You pulsed your muscles again, making your pussy lap up his sloppy precome like a little mouth, watching as he was torn apart by your action, no matter how minor. 

So, without any other choice, he fed himself into you. It was a fearsome experience, at first. You weren’t sure if you could actually handle him. But, you breathed through the stress, relaxing your body, finding that deep, secret place inside of you, making your slick drop down for him, flooding your hole to welcome him in. 

The confusion that painted his face was so satisfying. He couldn’t understand the sheer warmth and comfort he was experiencing. His cock was being sucked into you, deeper and deeper, and finally, you felt his knot. 

He pulled all the way out of you, and sheathed himself all the way back in, always reaching to that one spot, just above his bulbous anchor, and then starting his process over again. Each time his cock fucked its way through your body, humping himself into you, creamy, milking noises filled the quiet, open-air arena. The whole ensemble could hear him invading your hole, the lurid slap of skin on skin loud and unashamed. 

His phallus was large enough to rub against your most sensitive spot over and over, bullying it into producing more and more slick, making you come just by dragging his heavy cockhead over it, in and out, in and out, pounding into you with almost reckless need. 

You came for him, and your body began to shiver from the overwhelming bliss, but you held your voice. You tried to still yourself, not wanting to show weakness, but there was nothing you could do. You were shattered by his cock, coming over and over again. It was an endless wave. You had no idea where one started and the other stopped. 

You could taste blood in your mouth from biting the inside of your cheek. Still, you pushed through it, testing yourself with every push and pull of your body. 

His huge hands pawed at your hips and breasts, squeezing you, watching your plump flesh jiggle with every cruel strike of his hips. Your Alpha took your own slick and began to rub it all over your skin, swirling it around your nipples, letting it smear across your belly from his palm. Then, he painted himself, taking it from your well-fucked hole and rubbing it across his scent gland, down his chest, matting his hair with your wetness. 

Then, you felt his precome begin to pump out of him. You knew it had begun because this was when your slick was meant to wash through you, but there was no space for anything else. So, it began to pour out of you and over his knot. Every time he pushed it against your body, it threatened to slip into your hole, and you were filled with a twisted excitement, ready for it to be stuck inside of you, to churn and grind against your insides, to trap you in a blinding, rageful bliss. You nearly cried out from the heavy want you felt in your chest. 

“You ready for my knot, pretty Omega?” He growled, no longer speaking to you softly. There was no gentleness left within him. 

He shoved you back across the dais, climbing up onto it with you, breaking every protocol by doing so, but knowing there wasn’t a single other Alpha in attendance who would do anything about it unless you asked them to. But, he trusted you, lifting himself above you, bringing his face to your face, kissing you and beginning to lick your scent gland, making you see stars. 

Would he really bite you right here in front of all these people while you were about to take his knot? It was beyond intimate. Not only was it private, but it was dangerous. It was when an Alpha was most vulnerable. The audacity of this man shook you to your core. 

“Bite me, Omega. Please take me. Claim me as yours, sweetheart. Show them that you are mine. My Omega.”

His voice was ragged and deep, a hoarse purr of commands, all of which you were happy to obey. You began to lick his neck, putting your mouth over his gland as you began to suck at the round swell of flesh. Then, just as you canted your hips, feeling his knot slip inside of you, shoving and burying itself within the tight sheath of your pussy, you used your muscles to yank him the rest of the way in, and you bit down on his neck, hard, your body seizing from a hard, ruthless orgasm. . 

You heard the crack of his gland, and you felt him sink his fangs into yours, the pain and the pleasure mixing within you like a drug, his cock firing rope after rope of searing hot come into your belly, flooding your womb with his spend. He pulled his mouth away and stared into your eyes. His pupils were blown wide, his face full of disbelief, 

“My love…”

You kissed him, taking his lip into yours, suckling on it, trying to guide him back down from his tantric high. He was struggling above you, stuck deep inside of you, unable to stop himself from dumping heavy loads of his come into your body, his cock pulsing and throbbing with each burst of his cream. 

He rested his head on your neck, returning his mouth to your gland, and every time he licked it, now, you felt your pussy twist around him, threatening to slam you with another orgasm. You licked him, too, hearing him cry out against your skin, feeling the mirror of your sensations, his heavy phallus jerking as you sucked on his broken gland. 

Finally, he was able to rock back and forth, letting his knot slip out of you before popping it back inside, fucking you with it just like he did with his cock. He twisted his hips forward, driving into you with all of his strength, and then he would pull himself back out, the swell of his knot increasing with each thrust until, on the last thrust, he was finally trapped, unable to remove himself from your core. 

Now, though, it was your turn. You began to use your muscles to push and pull him from the inside, fucking him like a sleeve of smooth, soaked warmth, jerking his shaft up and down with your insides.

“Oh, fuck…” He whispered, not expecting your skills to be so advanced, but you had trained hard for this moment. You weren’t about to let it go to waste. 

You moved him inside of you, letting his knot take the brunt of your efforts, squeezing it like a fruit, making sure all of his juice melted into your skin. You made him come like this again, using the salve that your Watcher had given to you as an advantage, knowing that the heightened sensitivity you felt was now being passed on to him. He filled you up, his knot plugging your hole, preventing any of his seed from leaking out, and your tummy was swollen from his load, round and full for everyone to see. 

He sat up on his heels, looking down at you with his eyes full of adoration and wonder, watching your strong abdominals clench and twist as you used them to help you work inside of yourself, edging him over and over before pulling him down into the depths of another hard come with you. 

His hands went to the bulge of fluid in your belly, most of it flooding into your womb, unable to escape anywhere else. Your Alpha caressed your skin, marveling at the fullness. Then, he looked down at your stretched hole, playing with your clitorus that had been forced out from under its hood due to the sheer size of his knot, all of your skin bowing around it and pulled tight. 

Your Alpha forced you to come like this, milking him hard, trying not to make a sound but giving away your mind-bending pleasure with shaking, whimpering breaths. 

“That’s a good Omega. So full of my come.”

You smiled up at him, enjoying the full feeling of his come inside of you. But, you were losing your strength, and he could feel it. Alpha Price leaned over you again, grinding himself down into you and helping you reach one last orgasm, pulling himself along with you, squirting the last of his spend into your pussy. Then, he carefully twisted his cock out of you, watching the gush of his come coat the marble platform, dripping out of you and down the sides of the dais. 

You were so empty and weak, but you were being lifted, cradled in his arms, and the whole arena burst into revelrous applause. The feast had begun, but not for you. You would be in your Alpha’s tent, and there you would remain until he bred you, making sure that you were laden with his cub, sharing food and drink with him in bed while you were stuck on his knot, traditionally until sunset when you would be presented to the clans as the new Apex Omega, destined to rule beside him forever. 

“Are you done being quiet, my Omega?”

“Yes, Master,” you whispered, nestling into his broad chest. 

“Good,” he smiled, “I need to hear you scream for me.”

“And I need my Alpha to breed me. I need your knot again, Master. Don’t pull it out.”

“I’m at your command, my love,” he smiled, planting a kiss on your temple, smearing his own salve across your swollen flesh, working his cock until he was hard again. 

When you felt his knot for the second time, you knew you had made the right choice. Your people were safe, and so were you. You weren’t sure if it was the high of your claiming or the truth that you felt in your heart, but you were eager to be dripping with his come every night. Trapped underneath your Alpha was right where you belonged, knotted and full of his love. 

Seriously, send help. I was too ashamed to even reread it for typos. I'm so sorry.

[queers-gambit]

Perpetual L's and Overwhelming Dubs

prompt: slutty stranger bathroom sex on a train.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 3.7k+

note: are all our safe words pineapple? i need this man to rail me, you know, for science. yep, that's right, Cherry has a new fixation! aren't y'all so lucky?

warnings: author has brain rot, smut (public, strangers, unprotected), obviously cursing, PWP.

Japan was bright, you decided with a soft smile on your lips; looking around the train station glowing in neon lights; some blinking, some colored, all fluorescent. People milled around every inch of the place, all walks of life from school children to professionals with briefcases, talking on the phone, running to make their departure. Couples held hands, families took meals together, and a few meters away, a little girl screamed when her brother stole her Momonga plushie.

You must've been enraptured with all around you that your shoulder bullied into someone else's on the platform, making you gasp an instant apology in Japanese. However, the man you had collided with just offered you a stoic look up and down, letting his lips pull in a half-smirk, checking in English with a thick accent, "My apologies, love. You all right there?"

"Yeah, I-I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention," you bid with a small smile.

"'S all right, pretty ladies like you can run into me all day," he smirked, eyeing you up and down before following after his snazzy-dressed companion - who slapped his chest forcefully.

"Leave the girl alone, mate," the man reprimanded. "Sorry, miss, he gets it in his head he's God's gift to ladies."

"It's really okay, it was my fault for not watching where I was going," you assured the men, glancing at your watch. "I'm so sorry, but I really can't miss this train. Safe travels, gents!" You bid, offering a simple wave, then scurried off - trying not to double back for the man with a mustache.

God, was that man handsome! Like, illegally handsome. Hauntingly handsome.

You'd even go as far as to say he was devilishly handsome! Those eyes? Beautifully clear blue, alluring, drew you in and held you captive. His cologne? Absolutely heavenly, borderline intoxicating. And he was built like a fucking mountain - tall, broad, slender hips, bulging muscles that looked as if they would rip his button-up.

Shaking your head, you rid yourself of the body-heating thoughts about the stranger you had just barreled into. Being horny got you nowhere, but being perpetually horny... Was the biggest fucking L. Sure, you could rub one out; you knew where the clit was and how to stimulate to your own pleasure (unlike most men). But it was something about a man sweating over you, thrusting into you with abandon; creating a mess in your guts, mind, and chest.

Yeah... You needed to get laid, you were fucking drooling over some stranger you had a 23-second interaction with.

However, upon entering your train and locating a seat in the hopefully peaceful quiet car, you mindlessly downloaded Tinder to pursue at your leisure, but only a few swipes in and you were exiting the app and deleting it (again) from your phone. The train was ready to depart the station, you cracking a bottle of water, looking back on your two-week Japanese excursion your job had sent you on.

And now, you were finally heading to your last stretch of meetings, requiring you to purchase an overnight ticket on one of the available bullet trains. Seemed the fastest, simplest, and most affordable way to travel - skipping out on upgrading to first class. Economy was just fine, you decided, perhaps doubting yourself when your eyes widened when you caught sight of the two strangers you ran into on the platform finding their seats a few rows up. There was a third man with them now that was left slumped in a spare chair - probably drunk off his arse, based on the man's grungy, disheveled look.

You tried not to thinking about the handsome stranger, but he was just a few rows up from you! God, you could practically smell his cologne from here, letting your mouth water slightly.

Yeah, perpetually horny was the biggest L - like you said.

Your thighs squeezed together as you crossed them, hoping the pressure was enough to relieve the build-up of warmth in your belly and cunt. Your headphones were placed, your attention diverting out the window, and tried to imagine if nobody else was in this fucking carriage - he could take you here and now.

After a few stops, your empty water bottle sought revenge against your bladder and ushered you to the closest bathroom. It wasn't as tight a squeeze as airplane bathrooms, but it was still a small facility to use. When done, you washed your hands as a knock sounded at the door, calling in Japanese, "Just a second!"

After unlocking the door and opening it, you actually flinched back slightly when the man from early with the '70s pornstache was stood directly in front of you.

"Well, don't you look like hell," you mused slightly.

"All in a day's work, love," he answered, stepping out of your way to let you exit the bathroom. He looked you up and down, asking, "So, uh, where you headed?"

You told him your stop, asking him the same. He told you, your mind doing mental gymnastics to understand that you both had a good bit left on this train... Surely, anything could happen.

"I'll let you, yeah," you half-smiled awkwardly, moving out of his way fully to give him access to the restroom.

"You know..." He trailed, pointing at the empty lavatory, "Could fit two."

You chuckled, "Yes, but I'm finished now - you go on."

He hummed, glancing up and down the train car - spying through the windows of the conjoining connection each car had. When he faced you again, he took a slow, calculating step forward, "That's not exactly what I meant, sweetheart."

You feet took a slow, calculated step back to find the wall, his smirk broadening. "Then how about using your words like a big boy and tell me what you meant?"

"You look like a smart girl, sure you can figure it out, yeah?" He leered over you, either foot standing between yours, nearly pressed into you but far back enough that he could maintain eye contact.

You pouted at him, "I don't read minds."

"Not sure it's me mind yah gotta read," he perked a single brow, glancing out the window again. "Now, I'd love t'stand here and ravish you the way I've wanted since you bumped into me earlier, but maybe exhibition isn't your thing."

"Judging me now?"

Now, both his brows slowly rose. His teeth poked out from between his smirking lips, praising, "Naughty girl."

"Maybe you're the one a bit nervous, hmm?" You quipped, boldly reaching forward to palm his cock - already half-hard. "What's wrong, mister? Don't want people seeing you so, hm, submissive?" You gave a cheeky flex of your hand, his hips bucking involuntarily.

"You fuckin' minx," he chuckled, hands to your waist now. "Get in that fuckin' bathroom or I might just have to give this whole fuckin' train a show."

"Better start charging them all," you whispered, hearing his growl before pushing his chest back to give you a little space. "You do this often, then? Proposition strangers into dirty bathroom sex on public, moving trains? Hmm? In a foreign country? Seems terribly disrespectful, don't it?"

"Sweetheart, the thoughts in my head about what I want to do to this body - those are disrespectful," he smirked. "Wanna tell me I'm not truly tempting you? You would've left by now," he pointed out, making your chest feel warm from the embarrassment you felt suddenly. You smirked and twiddled your fingers at him in parting, turned, and just before you could step away, you felt his arms lock around your waist. "C'mon, darlin', don't be like that," he hissed in your ear, your visible smirk spurring him on. "Not about t'beg yah, princess, get this pretty li'l arse in this stall."

You folded.

Being perpetually horny was an L, sure, but being propositioned by a handsome, hulking, muscly stranger was for sure a Dub, right?

You turned in his arms, lips only centimeters apart; breathing the same air, hand on his chest to ease him back into the bathroom stall. He grinned in triumph, and the moment you were over the threshold, still maintaining eye contact, he reached around you to click the lock in place.

"C'mere," he growled, surging forward to bring his lips down to yours finally - and just like that, your panties were done for. You moaned instantly, feeling something akin to relief when his lips molded against yours; all but immediately sweeping his tongue against the seam of your mouth.

Letting him in was mind boggling; literally making static fill your brain as your hand lifted to hold the back of his neck, threading into the hair at the nape of his neck. His mustache was stiff, wriggling in an irritating fashion against your upper lip and nose, but you didn't notice - too engulfed in the way he domineered every rational thought. His hands both pressed tightly to your ribs, then waist, down your hips, around to your arse - like he couldn't make up his mind where he wanted to touch you. So, he chose to touch you everywhere.

He was intoxicating; feeling drunk on his taste, smell, touch. He was warm, his curls a bit greasy but still shocking soft, and his lips - plush, welcoming, anchoring. You didn't even know his name, but you didn't need to! All you needed was exactly what he was doing: holding complete control over your heart, mind, and cunt.

Your stranger pulled back suddenly, offering a skeptical look, "There's no boyfriend, fiancé, husband I'm gonna have to look over my shoulder for, right?"

"Not since about 6 months ago, no. Do I need to ask you the same?"

"'Course not," he mused with a grin, kissing you again - but just a degree softer. Now, both his hands rose to caress either cheek; his tongue wagging against yours in more controlled caresses. One hand dropped slowly to hold your neck, pulse quickening, and your stranger smirked, muttering against your lips, "Cheeky girl."

You pushed him back half a step, offering him a once over before confidently reaching down for the end of your shirt and pulling it off over your head. Your companions mouth fell open when you revealed yourself to him, smirking as you opened your jeans to show a hint of the lace panties you wore. You told him your name, earning a confused hum. "My name," you explained, "figured you need to know what to moan." His tongue swept over his lips. "Gonna just stand there?"

He chuckled, checking his watch, then started unbuttoning his waistcoat. "Tangerine," he spoke simply.

"That your safe word?" You asked, shucking your jean clean off after toeing out of your shoes. "Hm, mine's pineapple."

"'S my name, love," he chuckled, opening his button up to reveal exactly what you thought - plains of smooth skin over rigid, bulging muscles. "So you know what to scream," he smirked.

You paused, stood in your panties, bra, and socks, asking through a small chuckle, "You're telling me, your mother carried you all those months in her belly, pushed you screaming - bloodied - into the world, looked at yah, and said, 'yeah, he looks like his name should be Tangerine'?"

He peeled his top half naked, your throat swelling close; swallowing harshly to clear your mouth of the overflow of salvia. Slowly, he moved closer to you, once again leering over you. He reached out for your neck, not too tight or aggressive, but forceful enough to tilt your head back. "'S a codename, love," he explained.

"Ah, so can't reveal the government."

"Exactly."

"The fuck kinda job you got that requires codenames?"

"The dangerous kind," he smirked, "wanna keep running your mouth or put it to other use?"

You chuckled and reached for his trousers, holding his eyes with yours as you easily unfastened him and hooked your thumbs into the waistband of his briefs and suit pants. His mouth parted slightly when the cooler air hit his exposed cock, asking, "Safe word?"

He snickered, "Pineapple's fine, love," he sounded far too amused, watching you get on your knees in front of him, "but I doubt we'll need - Oh, holy, fuckin' good God," he seethed through clenched teeth when you eagerly took him in your mouth.

He was bigger than what you were used to - like a full double the size your previous partners had been. He was longer, thicker, and Goddamn, was he sweltering in your mouth. You wondered how long it had been for him, feeling your panties dampen as you felt exhilarated to show this man with a "dangerous job" exactly what your mouth could do - and why he'd never forget your name.

"Oh, there's a good fuckin' girl," he groaned, collecting whatever hair he could in a makeshift ponytail; looking down his nose to watch you. His cock was overwhelming, but you were determined to earn the pleasure he would surely bring; mouthing around his cockhead, using one hand to pump what didn't fit, the other alternating between holding his hairy thigh for balance and cradling his balls.

A few times, you held his eyes with yours as you removed his cock with a pop; licking his shaft up and down like it was a popsicle on the Fourth of July. His jaw would clench each time, sputtering his breath. His veins were pulsing, prominent under the skin; making your cunt contract as his throat bobbed as he swallowed harshly, groaning.

"Li'l too good at this, baby, Goddamn," he breathed, chuckling to himself as he retracted his hips while holding your jaw. "All right, all right," he chuckled, "made your point, love. Get up here 'fore I lose my bloody mind."

You pouted, "I quiet like it down here."

"Darlin', I'm about to bust - "

"Isn't that the point?"

He chuckled and reached down to help you up, instantly searing you in a wet, messy kiss as he backed you into the sink counter; tasting himself on your tongue. It was erotic, something you were vastly not used to - no man ever being okay with you kissing them after having their dicks in your mouth.

But no, this Tangerine fellow was obviously built different.

One hand anchored your waist, the other dropping to toy with your panties gently; petting the waistband before sinking his hand lower. You shuddered lightly when his finger swept through your wet folds, both groaning in pleasure when he sunk knuckle-deep. "Feels so good, love," he praised, your legs widening your stance to let him better access; hand fully disappeared into your panties. "So fuckin' warm, yeah," he breathed, increasing his speed so he pumped aggressively. He didn't need a second finger, he was chasing your orgasm - purely focused on the way you withered before him.

"Tan," you whimpered, gripping his assaulting arm as he found your g-spot and chuckled darkly.

"Got it, there, did I? Yeah, let's see what you've got, love, c'mon."

You whined in your throat, leaning into his chest as your legs began to quake. You didn't get a chance to warn him, feeling that overwhelming urge to urinate - gasping loudly and needing him to support your body as his finger jabbed your g-spot to the point you were gushing into his hand.

"Oh, fuck yeah," he encouraged, stimulating you further; loving the feeling of your squirt in his cupped hand, "keep goin', good girl, that's it, yeah? I got yah, good girl, there you go."

You grunted when he slowed his hand to the point the heel of his palm ground into your clit. Feeling overstimulated, your hand slapped to his meaty forearm, meeting his eyes with a glare, begging, "Okay, okay, okay, you made your fuckin' point."

He grinned, "Didn't know I had that affect on you, love. Huh?"

"You could've offered to fuck me when I ran into you earlier and I would've bent over - right there and then," you whispered against his lips, licking into his mouth right after; making his own mind go blank.

"Feelin's mutual, doll," he nodded, using both hands to shred your lace panties from your hips with a shrill gasp. "Keepsake," he teased, showing you the ruined fabric before dropping it.

You offered him a coy look before turning around for him, not needing the instruction; meeting his stare in the mirror. Bracing yourself against the sink, you slumped over it, making him groan.

"Fuck, doll," he whispered, admiring the view and smoothing a hand over one bare cheek. "Just look at yah, ready fa' me, just drippin'," he bit his lip, giving a few pumps to his length as he looked you over; other hand toying with your weeping hole. He growled and slid his cockhead up and down your slit, both shuddering lightly; moaning in union when he notched himself at your entrance. His eyes met yours in the mirror, his mouth parted, slowly sinking forward to the fucking hilt - making you feel impossibly full.

"Oh, Jesus fuck!"

He chuckled, shifting his hips, "Keep it down, love, don't need anyone bangin' on the door, interrupting us, huh?"

"I'll be quiet when you get a smaller dick."

This made Tangerine genuinely snicker, "Fair enough."

"Fuck's sake!" You yelped when he suddenly pulled back, surged in, and started his own rhythm. Through the mirror, you saw the concentrated, cocky expression he wore; looking purely focused, mesmerized by the way his cock would disappear within you, only to reappeared - soaking wet, glistening.

"Feel's divine," he hissed, the grip on your hips sure to leave bruises. "God, this pussy's made fa me - grippin' s'fuckin' tight. Who was the idiot who let this go, huh?"

"Really wanna talk about my ex now?" You panted.

"Nah, don't need to - 's mine now," he grit, one hand letting go of your hips to bring down on the meat of your bottom. "Hear me? Huh? Fuckin' mine now," he pommeled your arse a couple more times. "Like that, huh? Don't you? Feel you fuckin' squeezin' me each time."

"Yes," you moaned. "Fuck, yes, yes, God, you feel fucking amazing."

"Keep talkin'," another slap that made you squeak.

You were nervous 'cause you never considered yourself the best at dirty talk, but still tried, "So fuckin' good, makin' me so wet. Fuck - never had cock like this, so good - so deep, so big. Don't stop," you whimpered, his feet repositioning to allow himself a new angle and speed to drill into you. "Fuck, yes," you moaned loudly, encouraging, "harder, please, yes, yes, yes! Just like that!"

The motions cause ripples across the flesh of your bottom, thighs quaking. You pushed your hand down your front, your partner groaning at the sight as you found your clit and started massaging; the contractions squeezing Tangerine's cock tightly. His one hand traveled around the front of you, sliding up to yank your bra from your breasts; palming one with fever before tweaking your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger.

"Fuuuuck, Tan," you whined, moaning. "Don't stop, please, 's too fuckin' good!"

"I've got yah, darlin', almost there," he grunted, folded a little more over your back so he could fondle you roughly. "Naughty fuckin' girl, lettin' me bend yah over like this - don't even know me. Just knew you needed my cock, huh, love? Ain't that right?"

"Yes," you moaned, orgasm fast approaching.

"Probably let me do whatever I wanted t'you, huh?"

"Fuck yes, whatever you wanted, however you wanted me!"

"At's a good girl," he grit. "Takin' me so well, so fucking good. Need this pussy again, hear me? Fuck," he panted, increasing his speed to an erratic pace, "need a taste, need yah t'squirt on me again. Need this pussy in all positions." He bared his teeth, increasing his speed, hissing, "Lemme hear you scream, love. Wanna hear my name. from that pretty fuckin' mouth, c'mon."

"T-Tan, fuck, Tangerine, I-I'm right there, I'm so close - OH FUCK!" Your orgasm made you reel back into his chest, milking yourself on his impaling cock. You gasped, mouth left wide as his hand constricted around your throat, his mouth hot against your ear; biting and licking as he grunted forcefully.

He gasped in your ear, moaning your name on a short repeat, shuddering as he stilled himself; coating your wet interior with his thick ropes of hot, heavy cum. Your eyes were closed, head tilted back to his shoulder; his lips actually soft as he planted several kisses along your neck (that he released) and shoulder. "Holy fuck, doll," he whispered, chuckling in disbelief. "'S a li'l too good."

You smirked, "Yeah, I've heard that before, you're not the first t'tell me."

"Ah, way t'ruin it, doll," he joked, making you chuckle breathlessly. "All right?"

"Mhm," you sighed, eyes opening. "You?"

"Never better," he mused softly, sighing as you both tried to regain your breath. He let out a single grunt as he held your hips, pulling his cock free; releasing a gush of cum from you both to drip from your cunt. As you both redressed, he eyed you for a moment, then mentioned, "Listen, love, uh... Don't miss your stop."

"I wasn't planning on it?"

"Good... Just..." He sighed, closing up his shirt. "Make sure you get off this train."

You stared at him for a moment, pondering, "This have something t'do with that 'dangerous job' of yours?"

"A bit."

You hummed, zipping your jeans back up sans panties. "Why don't you get off, too?" You asked softly.

"Can't, darlin', got a job t'finish."

You nodded, "Then be careful, yeah?"

He nodded in return, reaching out to pull you in close. He took a second to look you over, smirking slightly, "Worried about me, are yah?"

"I don't even know you."

"We'll change that," he eased. "Your phone?" You offered a small look before sighing, reaching for your phone, unlocking it, and offering it to him. He typed for a moment, a distant buzz heard from his own phone, then handed it back to you. "I'll call you up sometime, love," he smirked, watching you reach back to unlock the door.

"You better," you mused, letting him press one more searing kiss to your lips. You hummed, pouting slightly and telling him, "Behave, or we'll go at round two."

"Don't threaten me with a good time, darlin'," he pocketed your shredded panties with a cheeky grin.

"You still owe me for those," you pointed.

"Send a bill, I'll make it up t'yah."

You smirked, "No bill, but I'd take dinner."

To your honest shock, a sort of... Contemplating, soft expression took over his face, nodding, promising quietly, "I'll call yah, darlin'. Just make sure you answer."

[ part two: Shower Shenanigans ]

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