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soaps-mohawk · 5 months ago

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 32: The Tragedy

Summary: Don't trust anyone. That's the advice you were left with. How much should you follow that advice? How much will you have to follow it?

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 8,058 words

Warnings: ANGST, heavy emotional turmoil, very detailed descriptions of depression, ANGST, panic attacks, lots of thoughts of death and crisis, distrust, anxiety, ANGST, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, ANGST, betrayal, weapons, guns, blood (barely), brief violence at the end, drugging (more sedation than anything), ANGST, hurt/no comfort, incorrect medical stuff again, oh and ANGST

A/N: Sorry

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The world is painted in grey as you stare at the wall. Your eyes trace over the pencil lines on the paper as if it might bring you some sort of comfort, as if it might bring them back to you.

Johnny put the drawings up after your heat, ones he'd done while watching over you as you slept the days away. Strawberries, rolling hills, you asleep in a field of flowers. Visages of the outside world, a place that seems almost foreign to you.

Despite their absence you're still a prisoner, still locked in your tower. Dr. Keller is your guard now, dutifully watching over you as she had promised Simon and Johnny she would. She’s done it successfully before, or at least she was as successful as you allowed her to be, as you had kept her in the dark just as much as your pack. Obviously they trusted that she hadn’t known, otherwise they wouldn’t have left you here with her.

It’s not like they had much of a choice.

She's moved into the spare room temporarily so you're not alone. Your pack's barracks are far more spacious than her own room in the barracks with the rest of the medical staff. You almost wish you'd gone to stay with her. Anything would be better than your grey prison.

You get to leave now, only long enough to walk to the mess and back, and occasionally to the med center. You don’t get to eat in the mess, staying just long enough to grab food before you’re ushered back to your grey prison. You've gone to Dr. Keller's office twice, but even then it had been a short stop so she could grab some paperwork before you returned to the barracks.

The grey and white of your home has never affected you in such a way before. You've been able to look past the sterile halls and prison grey walls of the rooms until now, until you’ve become a bit stir-crazy. You’re afraid you might actually go crazy, driven to insanity in your isolation.

There's been no word on when your pack might return. There's been no word at all from them.

For all you know, they’re dead.

You've gone numb to that thought, the tears not even stinging at your eyes at the idea. You're empty, the only thing you're capable of feeling is the steady churning of your stomach. It's been two months since you revealed the cameras and you're still sick, still in pain.

What if they don't come back because they hate you? What if they've abandoned you here?

You're not sure you could even react to that if it does happen. You can’t even react to the thought of it happening. There’s no drive to, no instinct to be upset by the idea of being abandoned. For all you know it’s already happened.

You turn over onto your other side, facing the room. It’s Johnny’s room you’re in, the most welcome place in the barracks. It’s the place you spent the most time before they left, isolated just to Johnny’s arms by Simon’s anger at your betrayal. He’d only cared for you out of necessity, the progress you made with him all wiped out because of your own stupidity.

Those thoughts don’t even bring a tear to your eye anymore. He never wanted you, he wouldn’t have chosen you.

So why did it hurt so much?

Dr. Keller is worried, but it's her job to be worried. You've shut down, shut out everything. You're not capable of much more than laying around numb and depressed. The scents are fading, quickly disappearing and being replaced by the bitter scent of your depression.

Depression. That's what Dr. Keller said. Not surprising given the circumstances. You're not surprised either. Then again, you can't feel much of anything anymore. There’s no hope left, the memories of them fading as fast as their scents. They’ve moved on, or they’ve died. Regardless, they’re not coming back.

You’re alone again, abandoned by those you loved, those supposed to take care of you.

You can only count leaves on the plant hanging from the ceiling of Dr. Keller’s office so many times. You’ve given up sitting, instead curled up in a ball as you stare at the plant, counting leaves up and down the vines. Dr. Keller is at her desk, writing and shuffling papers, doing what she normally does during the day. Doing what she had last time you had been left alone.

She had the idea that leaving the barracks might be good for you. A change of scenery, a more comfortable and warm setting, might help your depression. Escaping the oppressive grey walls of your prison for some fresh air might aid in her efforts to help you wallow less in your misery. Being free of the suffocating walls of the barracks might help free you from the constant memories of what was, what might have been, what’s left you behind.

Your stomach still hurts. The ache had intensified as soon as they told you they were leaving too, that John and Kyle were so desperate for backup they had to call everyone in. It had made you uneasy, the idea of being alone so soon after everything, the idea that things might be going so badly that they need help. The memory of what had transpired while you were alone the first time makes you nervous.

What if it happens again?

What if something worse happens?

You won’t be stupid this time, you told yourself. If anything is off, you’ll notify Dr. Keller immediately. You’re not making that mistake again. If you did make that mistake, the consequences wouldn’t just be dealt out by whoever is so desperate to get to you, to watch you. Your pack will leave you, will mark you as untrustworthy and give you up, or worse, throw you in a cell until you can be sent back home, back to the institute. Maybe they would be merciful and send you back to the CIA. What would the CIA do though? They couldn’t send you to another pack, not in the initiative, not with you already having been claimed. They wouldn’t take that risk when the severing of those bonds would destroy you and everything that you are.

Maybe if you’re lucky, it’ll kill you. Save you from the pain and mental anguish after the severing of a bond.

“Hungry?” Dr. Keller asks. It’s close to lunch, you think. Time is meaningless, the only routine you have left the necessary mealtimes Dr. Keller insists on keeping. Even then, if it wasn’t for her, you wouldn’t know when those were supposed to be.

“No.” You murmur, still staring at the plant. The leaves have begun to blur, blending together as your eyes unfocus.

“You should eat.” She says.

“Not hungry.” You say. “Stomach hurts.”

She sighs softly, pushing her chair back before walking over to you. She drops to a knee in front of the couch, staring at you. “How long has it been hurting?”

“Weeks.” You say, still not looking at her.

“Weeks?” She sounds surprised. “You didn’t say anything. Nausea? Any headaches?” She asks.

“Uh huh.” You nod.

“Any fever, body aches, congestion, dizziness?” She asks.

“Body aches.” You say, finally looking up at her.

She hums, staring at you for a moment. Her face is the usual clinical mask she wears when she’s in doctor mode, but you can make out the slight furrow of her brow as she thinks. She puts a hand on your forehead, your skin cold instead of the warmth it would usually have. Even you’ve noticed it in your numb state, your fingers and toes aching constantly from how cold they are.

She removes her hand, letting out a quiet breath. “Well, my dear.” She says, staring down at you. “I’m diagnosing you with stress.” She says, resting her arms on her knee. “It’s been a long few weeks, and then with your alpha leaving on top of it, I’m not surprised by your symptoms. I know you may not feel like it, but eating will help. You’ll be no good to your pack when they return if you’re wasting away.”

“If they return.” You say, not even able to sound worried like you did last time. There’s no tears, no panic, not even a hint of worry.

“They will.” She says, pushing herself up to stand. “They know what they’re doing and all we can do is trust their skills.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You murmur, taking her offered hand to get yourself up off the couch. You’ve heard it a thousand times. “I know.”

“Come on,” She says, giving you a smile. “Let’s get some lunch and then we can eat in the barracks again. Watch some dumb daytime TV show for a while.”

“Yeah.” You say, trying to sound excited as you follow her out the door. It’s been your routine for weeks. You’re growing sick of it, but what else is there to do? Read? Sleep? Lay numbly in bed staring at the ceiling until it blurs together or until you inevitably pass out from exhaustion?

Your life has become sad and pathetic, and it’s all your fault.

The days continue to drag on, every one without a single word of your pack driving you deeper and deeper into the hole you’ve already sunk into. You’re not drowning anymore, not clawing desperately to the surface, praying you can cling to hope long enough to drag yourself out of the depression. Now you’re just sinking, letting the weight of your numbness drag you down until the pressure becomes too much and you implode.

You miss them so badly it hurts.

Do they miss you? Do they think about you? Have they even thought about you? Did John and Kyle ask about you when Johnny and Simon arrived? What did they ask about? What did they say?

Or perhaps they just mutually agreed this was the opportunity to leave you, the chance to move on and make the job 100% of their lives again. No more worry, no more stress, no more distraction, no more needy omega clinging to them every minute of every day.

Maybe you should have been less needy, less reliant. Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten so close. It would at least have been easier on you. The job comes first. Why couldn’t you have kept yourself under that rule, distanced yourself to make this pain less severe?

Why didn’t you just tell them right away?

“How are you doing over there?” Dr. Keller’s voice breaks through the endless haze of thoughts.

You’re in the rec room with her, your most frequented place over the last few weeks. You might as well have moved in there. It would almost be better than the four places that only serve as constant reminders of what is gone. You could sleep in your room, but it’s been tainted, ruined. It’s not safe anymore. Even with your pack you hadn’t felt comfortable to be in there longer than it took to grab clothes.

“They left me.” You say quietly, voice muffled by the pillow your face is pressed into. You’re on your stomach on the couch, a blanket thrown over your back.

“Not by any choice of theirs.” She says. She’s sitting in the chair, Simon’s chair, but you can’t bring yourself to tell her. He’s gone. It’s not his place anymore.

“They’re not coming back.” You say, fingers digging into the front of your sweatshirt where they’re tucked under you.

“You don’t know that.” Dr. Keller says, closing her book. “Those men would fight from the brink of death to make it back to you.”

“They hate me.” You say, nails digging into your palms from how tightly you’re gripping the fabric.

“They don’t hate you.” She says softly. “They may have been a bit upset, but they’d never hate you.”

“Simon does.”

She lets out a quiet laugh. “Lieutenant Riley is his own beast.” She pushes herself up to stand, taking a seat on the edge of the couch next to you. “He’s in his head just as much as you are. In my professional opinion, he could use some therapy as well. Some extensive therapy.” Her hand comes to rest on your back, rubbing it gently.

You’re thrown back to the times you were sick when your mother would rub your back, almost as if she was trying to ease the sickness away. You are sick. Sick in your own grief and disappointment and anger with yourself. The depression is its own sickness eating away at you. You’re not even sure your pack’s return could cure it now. You might be too far gone, your brain too convinced that they’re not coming back that you won’t believe it when they do. They won’t return for you, they won’t be happy to see you. They won’t be real.

Dr. Keller lets out a quiet sigh. “I don’t think any of them are capable of hating you. Even Lieutenant Riley. They love you too much to abandon you like that. I don’t think they’re capable of abandoning you at all. I’m sure they’re just as worried, just as eager to get back here.”

She pats your back before holding her hand still. It’s warm through the fabric of your sweatshirt. It’s almost comforting, almost seeping through the chill that’s taken over you despite the warm summer air outside.

“I’m sorry you have to go through this.” She continues, her voice soft and laced with emotion. “I’m sorry this is happening to you. You don’t deserve it. It’s not good for you mentally or physically. It’s downright cruel. I thought maybe at first that you’d be taken care of, that you’d be taken into consideration as much as they are.” She scoffs. “I was stupid to think they’d ever give an omega the decency of being considered a human being.”

Her voice is determined, almost angry. She’s not angry at you, she’s angry at the program, at the initiative, at those above you making the decision, pulling the strings, controlling every part of your pack. You can almost feel it, the passion, the compassion for omegas that she carries. She knows firsthand what it’s like. Even before she became a specialist she knew. She could have presented as an omega herself. Instead she was blessed with presenting as a beta, able to be seen as a human being, able to have rights and make decisions for herself.

“I’m not going to give up on you.” She pats your back gently. “Once your pack returns, I think we need to have a long discussion about the future of this initiative.”

“Are they going to take me away?” You ask.

“No.” Dr. Keller says. “Your pack will fight for you. I will fight for you. But this isn’t good for you. It’s making you sick. I’m worried about what might happen if it continues.”

You slide your arms up, wrapping them around your pillow. “They’re not going to give it up, their jobs. They won’t. I hate it.” The words come tumbling out before you can stop them. “I hate that they don’t put me first. I hate that they have to hide things from me, keep things from me. Why is it fair that they can keep things that might put me in danger hidden, but I can’t do it without them getting mad at me? I hate that they have to leave, that they can just leave so easily. I hate their job, I hate what they do when they’re away. I hate them sometimes because they don’t even think twice about hurting me.” The nausea churns in your stomach, threatening to rise again. “It hurts a-and t’s not fair!”

Dr. Keller shushes you gently as you press your face down into the pillow, tears pricking at your eyes for the first time in almost two weeks. “I know. The CIA should have had an omega expert in on this from the start. There should have been someone that could advocate for the omegas they want to throw into these positions. I hate this too, what they do to you, what they put you through,” Her voice goes quiet, so quiet you almost can’t hear it. “What they will put you through.” She runs a hand over the back of your head, trying to soothe you. “All we can do is cling to the hope that word will come in soon that your pack is on their way home.”

You want to believe her. You want to believe she’s telling the truth, that they will be coming home. You want to have that hope, but hope has long faded from your mind. You don’t have hope anymore, as much as she tries to instill it in you.

The days continue to drag on. There’s been no word on their status, no calls, not even a text. Dr. Keller has tried to get ahold of Kate, but she’s been unsuccessful. It hurts. You feel abandoned, even by those that were supposed to be available, those that were supposed to help you. It all feels wrong. There’s something happening. You can feel it.

Something is changing, something is ticking at the back of your neck. It could just be the paranoia, the fear, the unease brought on by the isolation and the separation from your pack. It’s not normal. Johnny and Simon promised they’d do everything in their power to get a hold of you when they can.

Unless they can’t.

What if they’ve been trying but no messages are getting through? What if there’s something along the line blocking them? What if there’s someone purposefully keeping those messages from coming through? Purposefully isolating you from your pack.

The thought has a chill running down your spine. There’s things happening behind the scenes you can’t even fathom. Things beyond you, things beyond Dr. Keller and even John. Someone had those cameras put up. Someone was watching you, even after you found them and hid them. Someone wanted to see you, wanted to watch you with your pack.

Why?

It all seems too coincidental. John and Kyle being called away and then Johnny and Simon weeks later, isolating you from your pack. No word has been coming through, possibly no word from anyone getting to them. They won’t know what state you’re in, they won’t know something is wrong. If anything happened to you, they wouldn’t know. They’d have no idea until it was possibly too late.

You’ve been isolated on purpose.

All five of you.

What if it’s Kate?

You don’t want to believe it. You don’t want to even think about it. Who has contact with them during their missions, though? Who has been in control of relaying messages back and forth to everyone? Would she do it? Was she capable of such betrayal? John trusts her more than anyone besides the members of your pack. They’ve known each other for a long time, why would she betray them like this?

You can’t trust anyone.

The nausea churns in your stomach, threatening to choke you for a different reason this time. You’re beginning to panic, and while it’s nice to finally feel something, this is almost worse. You’d prefer the numbing depression, the emptiness, the inability to think. This is worse. It’s so much worse.

So many thoughts are flying around in your head, your stomach aching as you begin to panic. You’re not safe. You’re not safe here alone, not even with Dr. Keller. There’s too many chances. You’re too open and exposed.

You can’t trust anyone.

What if your pack is in on it? What if they were responsible for all of this? What if they knew Shepherd was coming and hid it from you on purpose? What if they had the cameras put up to watch what you do when they’re away? What if they’ve been surveying you to report to the higher ups about your progress and the initiative?

What if they pretended they didn’t know to see how long you’d hide it, how you’d take it if they were upset at you, how far they could push you before you’d crumble?

What if they left on purpose to make you crumble?

You can’t verify it. You can’t even know if those orders were real, if they ever came in. You’ll never know because you can’t because they have to keep you safe. What if Kate doesn’t even know they’re gone? What if they’re sitting in a pub in Hereford watching you fall apart at the seams? You want to leave, you want to run there, comb every inch of town just to find them and scream at them. What if they’re too cowardly to force you out themselves? What if they want you to leave, and they’re pushing you to the point you want to?

“Hey,” Dr. Keller kneels in front of you, her hands on your shoulders. “I need you to breathe for me.”

You stare at her face, the furrow of her brow, the worry in her kind eyes. You feel sick, your stomach churning. You want to vomit, you want to puke up all the worry and the depression and the stress. You want it all to be over with, you want it all to end.

“Come on.” She says, squeezing your shoulders tighter. “In and out, nice and slow.”

You can’t. You can’t breathe. The world is falling apart around you and there’s nothing you can do about it. Your breaths catch in your throat, stuttering as your lungs spasm. You’re beginning to tense, your joints locking into place. It’s not all that different from a few weeks ago in the rec room with Simon as you panicked.

Only there’s no alpha to help you this time.

“Come on.” Dr. Keller says, hauling you to your feet. It’s like trying to move a mannequin, your joints locked into place, dead weight as she half drags you down the hall and into one of the exam rooms. She manages it, stronger than you thought as she moves you easily into the private room. It’s the one you spent your heat in, still set up just like it had been then.

She gets you into a chair, wheeling over the oxygen. It’s cold as it hits your face, a clammy sweat covering your skin. Your hands close around the arms of the chair, fingers clenching until they pop and ache, shaking from the force but you can’t let go. You cling to the chair like it’s the last thing keeping you sane, keeping you in place, keeping you from floating away.

Maybe then they’ll come back. Maybe then they’ll feel guilty for doing this to you.

Dr. Keller approaches with a syringe, wheeling the tray closer before setting it on top. You stare at it, tears slipping around the mask before dripping onto your chest. “It’s a sedative.” She says, putting a damp paper towel on the back of your neck. It’s cold, still dripping water. “If you go into distress, our only option is to put you under and hope it calms your brain fast enough that you’re not going to lose yourself to your omega.”

You almost wish she’d let you. It would be an easier end than finding out your pack was involved in all of this. You’d fade away, let your omega take over until the toll was too great on your body and you died before you even knew what happened.

It almost sounds blissful right now.

“Easy.” Dr. Keller says, cupping your face. “Don’t think too much. That’s just going to send you spiraling even more.”

If only it was that easy.

She gently peels your fingers from the arms of the chair, crossing your arms over your chest. Your hands close around your arms, squeezing until it hurts, until you’re sure you’re going to have bruises. It’s a comforting position though, even without anything pressed against your chest.

You miss your bear. You miss having John wrapped around you, offering you comfort only he can. You want him back, you want to be in his arms again. You want your safe space back, your nest, your pillows and stuffed animals. You want your alpha no matter what. Even if he is behind this or not, if he’s involved, you don’t care. You need your alpha again.

The air in your lungs rattles as Dr. Keller replaces the paper towel on your neck. It drips down your back, sliding down your spine. Goosebumps rise on your skin but it begins to calm you, shocking your system out of the edges of distress it had been rapidly falling towards. It makes you miss being numb. Numbness was at least better than the dangerously high panic of distress.

You can’t even be stressed without being in danger of your own body.

The churning in your stomach intensifies and you rip the oxygen mask off, bending forward as you take deep breaths. You don’t want to vomit, especially not on Dr. Keller’s nice shoes. Your hands grip the arms of the chair again, eyes squeezing closed as you breathe.

“Good.” She says, rubbing your back. “Keep breathing like that.”

She steps away for a moment to grab another wet paper towel as you continue to focus on your breathing, in and out. You pretend John is there, breathing with you slow and even. You can hear it in his chest, feel the rise and fall as he inhales and exhales with you. The steadiness of his heartbeat that never seems to raise, even when he’s stressed, thumps under your ear. He’s always so calm, always so aware, always so capable of acting even in the most stressful situation.

A strength he possesses thanks to his job.

“I miss my alpha.” You whimper as your joints begin to unlock, muscles relaxing.

“I know.” She says, replacing the cold paper towel. She squeezes the back of your neck gently for a moment, sending a cascade of cold water that soaks into your shirt before she releases you. Something prickles in the back of your mind as she moves her hand, the back of your neck tingling and not from the cold.

You continue to breathe deeply, the hitch in your lungs slowly lessening until it's gone, the air flowing in and out evenly. The air in the room is cold, only made worse by the sweat on your skin. You’re trembling, the effects of the almost distress coming down, leaving you a mess. More of a mess than you had just been.

“I just want him back.” You croak out, the tears still falling.

“I know.” She repeats, easing you back so you’re reclined back in the chair. She stares at you for a moment, chewing on her lip before she nods. “I’m going to make a few calls.”

The days continue to go by in a haze. You’re not sure what to think anymore, the numbness and stress battling in your brain for control. The near distress you went into has left you exhausted and burnt out, yet your thoughts won’t let you relax. You just want your alpha, the need sinking deep into your bones, nearly consuming you now.

It’s getting colder, Fall making its rapid approach. A couple short months and it’ll mark a year since your arrival, a year since this entire thing started, since you joined your new pack. To think it might not even last a year. That was the point, though, to test if it would work and how long it would work.

Less than a year. Hope you’re happy with those results.

It’s windy today, blowing hard enough you can hear it inside the barracks. The whooshing as the air hits the side of the building, being forced over the top of the immovable object in its path. It’s grey outside too, the sky cloudy. It might rain, though it’s hard to tell. It’s been grey for the last couple days, the weather always seeming to be in tune with your emotions.

You’re seated on Johnny’s bed, knees pulled up to your chest. It’s been so long since you’ve seen your packmates, since you’ve seen your alpha. They almost feel like a distant memory, thoughts of them floating around the empty barracks like a ghost, haunting your mind. All of them seem like ghosts now. You’re scared you’ll forget what they look like, what they smell like, what they sound like. Your brain is being clouded by your own roiling emotions, slamming up against the sides of your brain like the wind outside.

It’s confusing, the violent rocking of your mind between numbness and stress in the storm that’s raging in your amygdala. It would be nice if it could pick one, choose a direction and send you head on into the storm or the doldrums. You want the numbness back, the clouding of your thoughts, the slowing of your body to a crawl. It would be a relief over the alternative point where you risk distress every minute.

There’s no help for you.

“Ready?” Dr. Keller’s voice sounds through the door as she knocks quietly. It’s lunch, the usual time the two of you go. Early enough the mess isn’t as crowded. The last thing you need is a confrontation, or for you to panic like you did the day you revealed the cameras to Simon.

Dr. Keller could help you, would know how to help you through that, but you’re not sure you could handle that stress, that embarrassment of falling apart in front of the soldiers that already send judgemental looks your way. Falling apart again.

Not when you can’t trust anyone.

The words still float through your mind, one of the last things John had said to you before he left. Before he abandoned you.

Don’t trust anyone.

Anyone could be a threat.

Dr. Keller knocks again, calling out your name softly.

You force yourself off of Johnny’s bed, your joints cracking as you stand. You’ve been in that position far too long. Your body has stiffened, losing the flexibility you once had in the weeks since John left. You’re not even sure you could run as fast as you used to. There’s no space to do it in the barracks, and with how numb you’ve been, you have no drive to even reach down and touch your toes anymore. For all you know you’ll fall forward onto your face and break your nose if you try.

You open the door with a sigh, looking up at Dr. Keller. You’re sure you look like death...you have probably looked like death for a while. The constant rocking between stress and numbness has made you feel that way, and has likely made it worse. It’s been a long time since you’ve looked at yourself in the mirror, you’re not even sure you remember what you look like.

You don’t care anymore.

There’s no one to impress here.

The less alive, the less enticing you look, the more likely it is to keep audacious alphas away.

“Ready?” Dr. Keller asks, her brows furrowed slightly as she looks down at you.

You nod, knowing you have no choice. “Yeah.”

She nods. “Okay, I-” She’s cut off as her phone begins to ring, the loud ringtone slicing through the air. She keeps it on at all hours in case someone calls about your pack.

For just a moment you feel hope, something coming back to life inside of you as her phone rings. Could it be Kate? Could it be someone with word of the status of your pack? Maybe it is your pack, calling just to let you hear their voice.

Maybe for the last time.

That hope fades as Dr. Keller frowns. “One second.” She steps down the hallway to answer, leaving just enough space between you, you can’t hear what’s being said on the other end.

You don’t really care to hear, leaning against the wall as you wait. It’s not about your pack, obviously. The thought stings. Still there’s been no word, not even a text. The drop of excitement is almost worse than the numbness, the acceptance that you’re not getting any word, that had begun to form in your mind.

Dr. Keller walks back up to you, the frown on her face deeper than it had been. It had been a short call, most of the talking done by the person on the other side, you assume. Her answers had been short and simple. Whoever it was...it must not have been good judging by her face.

“I have to run to my office.” She says. “I need you to stay here.”

Your heart rate picks up at her words. She’s leaving you alone? You’ve gone back and forth with her so many times, why does she have to go alone now? Maybe whoever had called wanted to continue the conversation without the risk of anyone listening in.

Who called her, and what did they say to get her to break her promises to your pack?

“I’ll be right back.” She says, sounding anxious to get to her office. “You’ll be okay here? I won’t be gone long.”

You nod. You’re not sure you have much of a choice but to agree, but you’re also not about to argue. It’ll be the first time you’ve been alone since the day you confessed to your pack. You’re itching for it now, just a second to be truly alone. Just a second to breathe.

“Don’t leave the barracks.” She says pointedly. “John will have my hide if he finds out.

You shrug. “Don’t know where I’d go anyway.”

She nods, accepting your answer. It is the truth. You wouldn’t have left anyway. “You call me immediately if anything happens. I’ll be just a couple minutes.”

You nod in understanding. “I’ll be here.”

“Good.” She seems satisfied by your answer as she turns to jog down the hallway.

Good thing she’s wearing comfortable shoes compared to the ones she normally does.

You let out a quiet sigh of relief as soon as the door closes. You stand there in the silence of the barracks for a moment. You’re finally alone, the oppressive feeling of being watched, of being held prisoner lifting just a bit. Sure you can’t leave, but you couldn’t do that before anyway. You head for the rec room, walking as silently as you can, almost as if one of your pack members will jump out from around the corner and reprimand you for being alone. It’s not your fault. Dr. Keller was the one who left you.

You try not to think about what that phone call had been about as you grab a snack, tiding yourself over before Dr. Keller returns. She said she’d only be a minute, but you’re not sure how long it really will take. You’re silently glad for the break, silently glad for the ability to rest in silence, even if it is only for a couple of minutes.

You’re not sure what to do with your newfound freedom. It’s not like you didn’t have freedom before, but at least now you feel like you normally do, free to wander around and go to the bathroom by yourself.

You’re going to do just that.

It’s instinctual that you choose Simon’s room. You’ve been using his shower still, comforted by the routine you picked up during the time he and Johnny were still with you. It’s comforting, so much so you’ve made sure you hang your towel where it’s supposed to go, and put your soap and shampoo back in place with his. He’d be angry if he came back to find his room a mess, the order he exists in disrupted.

More angry than he already is with you.

You let out a sigh as you leave the bathroom, eyeing the books on his dresser. You’ve read all of yours already, and there’s nothing new in the rec room. You haven’t felt like reading much, and you’ve already read all of yours. Now, though, as life begins to fill you again, you feel the urge to do something.

The spines of the books are slightly dusty as you run your fingers across them. You’ll need to clean again soon. You’d forced yourself to do all of their laundry once their shirts lost their scent. It was beginning to stink and after being gone so long, you doubt they’ll want to come back to stinky dirty clothes.

Maybe you should clean their rooms too. Dr. Keller has been saying it might be helpful to do something productive.

And this way it might help in case they do return. Omegas are supposed to keep house. It’s what you’ve been taught to do. The last thing you want is for them to be upset with you for not doing your duties.

You grab one of the books randomly before slipping back out of the room, closing the door behind you. Your steps are still instinctively quiet as you make your way down the hallway. Until you freeze mid-step. There’s a sound ahead near the rec room, the wind outside getting louder for a moment before it quiets again.

Someone opened the door. Someone is inside.

Your breathing hitches as you take a step back, then another moving backwards down the hallway. Dr. Keller did say she’d be back soon, but why would she go through that door? She knows your pack always uses the door at the front, the door behind you to enter. That door only gets used when the guys smoke outside, or when Simon and Johnny have to leave during your heats.

Whoever entered wouldn’t know that.

Dr. Keller doesn’t smoke.

You stumble back to the nearest door, fumbling with the handle for a second before slipping inside. You close the door quietly, clicking the lock before pushing the dresser in front of the door. It’s your room you’ve taken refuge in. There’s dust coating everything, floating around you as you disturb the stale air. You hold your breath, fighting the urge to cough as you wait, hoping the air filters hide your scent before they make it down the hallway.

Your hands are shaking, gripping the book tightly in your hand. If nothing else, you can use it as a weapon. Simon would be proud of that, improvising a weapon to protect yourself. The panic is rising in you as you wait, the silence of the barracks the only thing allowing you to hear the quiet footsteps making their way down the hall. There’s a nervous fluttering in your chest as you wait, trying to keep your breathing under control. If it’s Dr. Keller she’ll knock, she’ll say something to let you know it’s her. She wouldn’t sneak around the barracks. She knows how much stress you’ve been under. She wouldn’t try to scare you like this.

A scream dies in your throat as the door handle starts to jiggle, forced back by your own panic. Whoever it is on the other side is trying to get in. You're thrown back into the terror of your first time alone, when someone tried to enter your room in the middle of the night.

You’re not going to be stupid this time. You’re not going to face this alone. Your fingers fumble around your phone, barely able to unlock it as the jiggling of the handle gets more aggressive. Whoever it is, they’re determined to get in.

You press Dr. Keller’s number, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you lift it to your ear. It rings in your ear, the sound echoing outside the door. Your stomach drops, following your phone as it slips out of your hand, still calling Dr. Keller. The ringtone echoes in the empty hallway, quickly drowned out by the blood rushing in your ears.

The sudden phone call, leaving you alone for the first time in weeks to run to her office, entering through the wrong door...

No...it can’t be.

The door shudders as something rams against it. You have to hide, you have to get out. You can’t hide in the closet or under the bed. Even the bathroom wouldn’t be smart. It’ll leave you too vulnerable. If whoever it is can break through your door, they’ll get through the bathroom easily. You turn to look at the window. You have to get out. You have to get help.

There could be others out there, waiting for you to try.

You have no other choice. Better to try and fight than to stand there and let it happen. That’s what Simon always says.

You can defend yourself. You can fight until you get a chance to run. You can run. You’re an omega. Running is what you do.

You barely remember to pick up your phone before you climb onto your desk, not caring as you knock things off. You have to move fast. Whoever it is on the other side of the door probably heard that, probably has figured out you’re going for the window. You have to get out. You have to run. The window slides open slowly, the adrenaline pumping through you, giving you strength you didn’t know you were capable of. You’re not sure you’ve ever opened the window in the time you’ve been here. You squeeze through the opening just big enough to fit you through. You don’t waste time looking back as you take off running, heading in the direction of the trees.

You’re alone, kicking up gravel as you run to the road. You have to find someone to help you before whoever it was catches up to you. Would they be that brave to attack you in the middle of the base? Would they try something with witnesses around?

You can’t trust anyone.

Would they even believe you if you did try? Or would they take advantage of your state, tricking you into believing them before dragging you into a dark corner? Even if you try to go to the higher ups on base, who would you tell? How would you even find them?

You can’t trust anyone.

Instead you choose the trees, racing down the road you had followed Price down not long after your arrival. You thank the CIA for making you run, you thank the guys for letting you run laps to keep your strength and stamina as you tear down the road, getting glances as you go. You haven’t lost much of your ability, not even in the weeks you’ve been almost completely sedentary. It’s partially the adrenaline, partially your own fear, partially your instincts to escape from danger helping you sprint down the road.

It’s lunch time, most of the soldiers probably in the mess by now. Maybe you should have run there. Someone would help you. Someone would help you.

You’ve passed a few on your way down the road, only getting passing glances. If they really cared, they would have followed you, tried to intercept you to ask what was going on.

None of them stop you as you reach the trailhead, breaking through the brush. Don’t follow the trail. Weave through the trees and double back. Confuse them so they can’t follow. Price’s advice rings loud in your ears as you rush through the forest. Confuse them, and then make for the tower. You can hide there, call Laswell, get help. You’re not sure how much help she can provide from across the ocean, but if nothing else, she’ll at least know.

If she answers.

If she’s not behind all of this.

She might rat you out.

Maybe going for the tower is a bad idea. Maybe you should double back and head for base again. If you can make it to the gate maybe you can convince one of them to help you, or if nothing else you can force your way through and get off of base. You recognize landmarks well enough you can hike to Hereford, find the police, find anyone that might help you.

You can’t trust anyone.

Your chest hurts as you run, tears burning in your eyes, making the trees around you blur. You can’t cry now. You can’t let the ache of betrayal settle in yet. You really can’t trust anyone. John had been wrong. But why now? Why wait this long?

Something has happened to your pack.

The whole thing has been organized.

You trusted her.

You dart across the trail, a sharp pain biting through your calf before you can reach the other side. You yelp as you fall into the dirt, your leg giving out from under you. You push yourself up to look, a roughly half inch wide hole cutting through your jeans. Blood is starting to seep into the fabric, darkening it around the edges of the hole.

You’ve been shot.

“You’re a quick little thing.” A voice says, stepping out from the brush next to the trail. “Though, I suppose with all the running they made you do, you would be.”

Tears burn your eyes as you stare at the gun pointed right at you. Will it go off again? Will it rip through your chest, giving you a slow painful death out here where no one will find you until it’s too late? Or will it go through your head, giving you a quick death before you even know it’s happened?

“Why?” You choke out, your heart pounding in fear. You can feel it, the edges of your vision darkening as you begin to panic. You’re going to distress, you’re going to die no matter what happens next.

“Money.” The gun shifts with the accompanying shrug. “Sure the pay in these positions is decent, but it’s never quite enough. And, you know, I’m all for helping with experiments.”

The gun lowers, but that does little to ease the panic flooding through you. You turn your upper body, trying to claw through the dirt away from your assailant, trying to escape the shoes getting closer and closer. They’re tennis shoes, practical and easy for running if need be. Your mouth has gone dry as you gasp for breath, your heart thudding in your ears. It’s getting dangerously high, the dark edges in your vision continuing to get bigger and bigger. Your muscles are tensing, ready to tighten painfully, joints locking into place. It’ll be too late to do anything, but then again, it’s too late now to do anything.

You can’t run. If you try, you’ll get shot again, and maybe this time it will be fatal.

One of the shoes lifts, stepping down on your leg. You scream as pain ripples all the way up to your hip, stopping your movements. Tears slide down your face, dripping down your nose and onto the dirt.

A hand reaches out, gripping your chin and forcing you to look straight again. Fingers dig into your jaw, making you whimper with pain. “I always hate when omegas cry.” The hand releases you as their right hand rears back.

Pain erupts across your cheek, your body being thrown to the side. You fall into the dirt, your ears ringing as the entire left side of your face throbs. You can taste blood, the coppery tang making you want to gag.

“That was for fucking up the cameras and making me do more work.”

You’re forced onto your stomach in the dirt, a knee digging into your back painfully.

“You’re going to go to sleep now.” You can barely make out the words over the ringing in your ears. “When you wake up, you’re going to wish you had never been picked for this initiative in the first place.”

A stinging pain bites into the skin of your neck, but it’s nothing compared to the throbbing in your cheek and the burning ache in your leg. Tears continue to slide down your cheeks as you lay there, your vision going blurry as the sedative kicks in. There’s no help coming.

No one even knows you’re out here.

NEXT ->

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #tf 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #poly 141 #captain price x reader #john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #soap x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #a/b/o #omegaverse

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gay-dorito-dust · 5 months ago

Note

Is it okay if I request Deadpool and Wolverine having an s/o that likes to bite them affectionately and like they keep doing doing it trying to leave a mark on them?

Headcanon or story is fine ❤️

Wade Wilson/ deadpool

‘Do I taste delicious bbg? I must seeing as how you’re eagerly coming back for seconds just to get your teeth into me.’ Wade would tease as he watched you bite onto his shoulder, no thoughts behind your eyes, only chomp.

‘I’m trying to see if I can leave a mark.’ You tell him, biting down a little harder on his shoulder but not enough to cause him any discomfort.

‘And In public too? *gasp* You naughty minx, I didn’t think you were like that but then again I guess voyerism has always been something I wanted to try.’ - Wade.

‘No’ - you

Wade doesn’t mind you biting him, bite him as much as you want but don’t be surprised if he were to say that he got the bite marks from something far more intimate. He’s just built like that but you love him regardless for it, he made life fun in a chaotic way.

He’d even might attempt to bite you back, make it your couple thing to bite each other affectionately and hard enough to leave a make but not enough to cause the other pain.

So when you bit his hand, he’ll bit your arm, which then leads to an all out biting war between the two of you to see who can bite the other the most. You could just be chilling on the sofa together and somehow bite each other simultaneously. This happens one too many times to count on one hand and even after the marks have gone away, it was just an excuse for you and Wade to bite each other as much as possible all over again.

So please by all means bite him as much as you want he’s not going to stop you, he’s enjoying it too much that he may or may not find himself developing a biting related kink sooner or later because of you.

‘Do I look pretty with your bite marks, claiming me as yours and yours alone?’ - Wade, battering his eyes.

‘The prettiest’ - you slapping his ass and giving him another bite on his bicep.

The fucker would moan when you do, loudly too so I hope your bit easily embarrassed.

Logan Howlett/ Wolverine

‘Ow! What the-‘ Logan sees you latching onto his bicep with your mouth, teeth digging into his skin, ‘-are you a fucking cannibal now? What’re you doing?’ He’d ask and you’d shrug.

‘Marking you?’ You questioned, still biting him.

‘Why?’ He’d ask.

You shrug again. ‘Your bicep look too nice so I had to bite it.’

Logan swore you were going to give him grey hairs with your shenanigans, but he just lets you do your thing. So half of the time you look like a fish on a fishing hook with the way you latch onto his bicep with no intentions of letting go anytime soon.

Even if people were to ask who gave him that many bite marks, he’d just raise his arm and reveal you hanging off of it and just point at you with a deadpan expression. ‘My nippy little shit of a partner did.’ He’d say in response.

He doesn’t mind a couple of bites but a fuck tone then he’ll probably tell you to tone it down with the biting, just until the current marks fade away.

‘I look like I got attacked by a fucking piranha.’ - Logan as he points at you. ‘Enough biting from you.’

You didn’t like that as much and would get all pouty because the whole point of you biting him was so that the marks would stay! This was torture! Logan tends to ruin the fun but that doesn’t stop you from biting him unexpectedly but there is moments where he does catch you in the act and you bolt away as fast as you can.

However in the end you’re the one coming out of the room with a couple of fresh bite marks yourself across your neck as Logan smirks to himself with pride. You did push your luck and Logan wasn’t one to let you get away with it without…a punishment or two…

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leclsrc · 1 year ago

Text

wanna be nearer ✴︎ mv1

genre: 18+, fuck buddies ahhhaha, smut, porn w/o plot basically...

word count: 3.6k

It seems every time you tell yourself to stop, Max comes back into your life and all sense of resolve crumbles. title from this

auds here… hiii :) req'd by SO MANY PEOPLE i can't even start compiling all the asks hahah but if u asked for this here it is! writing's been tuff for me lately but this was the one thing i could continue daily (weird) also there is a case to be made re: max's hottest pictures being like 1 pixel in resolution... hope u all like it!!!

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... sexual tension, penetrative sex, some vague sexting/a sex tape being watched, praise/dirty talk central, size kink, unprotected sex, handjob (f receiving), max being a meanie

It’s busy today. You haven’t seen him all day.

To be fair, you weren’t necessarily looking—not at first, anyways. How many days had it been since the last time, now? The one in your hotel room? Almost two weeks, you think. The real answer’s blurry in your head, especially when you count the close calls, but this should be a record for you two at this point. Neither of you acknowledge that the only reason you’ve been so good at staying away from each other is because when you’re not roped into the same media junket, you avoid each other at all costs.

The media pen is full; everybody’s shoulder-to-shoulder because a few other networks bought their way into the space for the Singapore race. Right when your mind settles back into the focus of work, though—

“Here,” he says, his voice rough and tickling your ear. You nearly stumble forward, shocked at how his voice almost vibrates through you, a low trill that ripples top to bottom.

His hand settles at the small of your back, like his verbal confirmation wasn’t enough on its own; it’s big and his thumb rubs softly at the smooth strip of skin in-between your low skirt and your top. “Passing through.”

“Sure,” you say, dry. “Sorry.” You clear your throat and cant backwards into his touch—briefly, before you step forward and allow him to pass fully. Across you, Lissie looks up from her phone and you sense her trying to gauge why you’re so close to Max.

You blink and wait for him to disappear, wondering what you’ll tell her—how, more like. How the conversation even opens. How you’d phrase the truth, which in itself is a horribly grey area. Well, Lis, if you must know, Max and I have casual sex. A lot. It’s actually not very casual. We stopped now, but—yes, Max. That Max, yes.

“What about Max?”

Your eyes snap upward and then to your left, where you can see Max’s figure disappearing into a crowd of engineers. They return to Lissie and you feign confusion to mask panic. “What?”

“You were spacing out and then suddenly said his name.” She presses the tip of her pen onto her chin, humming. She doesn’t look at you and you thank God for it—eye contact would’ve rattled the truth out of you in seconds.

“I…” You shake your head. “I was irritated with—I’ve been irritated with him all morning. It’s. Yeah.”

“Oh,” she says, nodding, looking away for a second but not pausing. “Oh, okay. D’you wanna go over this edit again?”

—

The stale air of his hotel room, alleviated only by the vaguely fragrant linen spray they use when he’s out, is what greets Max when he arrives in the afternoon.The first thing he does—the only task he’d even thought of en route here—after the door clicks shut is pull up his Messages app and type.

Just got to hotel. He tosses his phone onto the bed while he waits, tugs his cap off and rakes reckless fingers through his hair. His new stylist’s got him onto jeans that don’t “look painted on” (you once said, verbatim), but he’d rather die than lounge in denim, so he swaps them out for just his Calvins.

His mind’s lethargic, but even his version of lethargic is high-drive for others—his brain has the silly tendency to work in absolute overdrive. He itches for a drink and orders a Scotch on the telephone. He checks his phone, which is lying facedown still, and as soon as he picks it up it chimes with your reply.

OK, nice. Did u need something?

No, just wanted to let you know. He hits send, then adds another. You’re off @ 8?

Ended early, I’m in the car. He’s in the middle of drafting a response when you send a follow-up.

I thought we agreed no contact unless business

He scoffs out a dry laugh. Despite himself, he reads the text in your voice, his brain completing the image of the bossy tone with crossed arms and a wickedly arched brow. In response he types: Can’t even update a friend nowadays? I am very tired you know.

Rules are rules, he reads. Then, Get some rest.

Yeah. Got a drink.

I said rest, not drink. Even then he can hear the exasperation in your voice.

How was work? I hurt a muscle doing training. That’s why I’m at the hotel early.

Feel better soon, you send. Had some press stuff today. Boring shit

Yeah? I missed you today.

Really?

A lot. He hums and leans backward, lets his head settle into the pillow, the smell of the linen spray consuming his nostrils. He waits for his phone to buzz, vibrate softly on the hard surface of his chest. It does, after a few minutes, after he’s let his eyes shut and let himself rest them for a bit, after the room service comes knocking and gives him the Scotch he’d requested while ago.

He’s back sitting on his bed when it vibrates. He picks it up and reads: How much?

You’re awfully easy to rile up. He smiles around the rim of his glass—he knows exactly where this is heading.

So much I think I’ll watch some videos of us.

The only caveat of casual sex as two people who essentially dislike each other is the fact that it’s all under wraps—which means if you two try to sneak off together, or are even caught in the same vicinity, people raise suspicions. And that means there are weeks where you barely get to fuck.

And that means you both grow antsy for it. He makes fun of you for being needy, when you’re tipsy and palming at the denim of his jeans or when you bend over when you know he’s looking. But the truth is he grows needy for it, too, craves you like you’re all that matters—he gets extra handsy, drops another innuendo when he knows you’re listening. There is a case to be made that he’s worse, in fact, because fans sometimes skirt around his words and wonder why he sounds so flirty when you’re the reporter in the room.

It was difficult but eventually he found a minor workaround: sometimes he films the two of you. There’s none of those propping his phone up kind of stuff, he just fishes for it in the middle of fucking you so he can store it for himself. It’s locked on his phone and he only has a few (the few has grown in number lately), but God it gives him release when he needs it and you’re not there.

I’ll call you when I’m at the lobby, comes the response. It’s always futile, the attempts to stay away from each other.

He pulls up the folder and lets his eyes skate over the thumbnails, squeezes himself through his boxers. Fuck. He can’t seem to decide what he wants to watch—the ones of you sucking him off, the ones of his fingers stretching you out. He recalls the whine in your voice in each of them, the pleads that escaped you for him to fuck you harder.

So Max, for the life of him, can’t even count how many times these videos have made him cum. But there’s one he hasn’t seen yet—the one he took the night before you two parted. You’d become extra needy on this night, preceding the season, he supposes, the separation. You already were anticipating the deprivation, starved for him more than usual. He’d have kissed you pretty, given you one orgasm after another and still you’d want more. And on this night it was you who asked him to film, you who wanted all of them on tape, so you’d both have something to tide you over until he got to fuck you again.

He pulls his cock out and strokes over it. And with his other hand, he presses his thumb on that video.

In it he’s fucking you in the dark, keeping the phone’s flashlight on your pussy as he sinks his cock into you. When he pulls back out the light reflects on the slick coating his dick, makes it glisten. It looks so wet, sounds so wet, with each thrust into you. He remembers just how it feels; he imagines that he’s back in your bed, fucking you again; that his fist is your pussy, and the spit lubricating it is the wetness that’s drooling out of you on camera.

He can see how tight you are—the way your pussy grips the shaft each time he pulls his cock out, greedy for him. Just like you.

The two of you were supposed to be quiet, too. You were at a hotel, your room beside another driver’s; you were supposed to be careful not to stir anyone. But your moans are louder than he remembers; so is the way you say, breathily, between gasps, Right there, Maxie, m’so close. Max inhales through his teeth, his cock throbbing at that—that Maxie, the cute little whimper out your mouth.

He strokes himself faster, watches the way your fingers slip into frame to rub at your clit, his thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier. He can see, hear—feel how wet you are, the sound of your cunt growing wetter with every thrust. He hears his own voice again, mutter out So good for me, yeah? And your babbled affirmation in response.

You cum hard, your slick getting everything wet and shiny and Max watches himself cum next. His dick’s already spurting when he pulls out and lets himself release on your lower stomach, some of it shooting onto your tits. He blinks, anchors himself back, quickens his wrist and digs his heels into the bed to keep himself from coming. Just a second longer. He knows what comes next and he needs to see it.

Like clockwork, he watches two of your fingers swipe through his cum, bringing them up to your lips. You blink up at the camera and smile. Quit it, your lips mouth, pink and cum-slick. Put it down, Maxie… fill me up again. He releases in weak spurts over his fist, a damp, flushed grunt escaping him as he does. He feels like the air’s been knocked out of him.

His phone rings and he presses it to his ear. “Hey, angel. Come on up.”

One week later

“Vodka,” you say to the bellboy when you get to the elevator. “To my hotel room. Very cold. Please. And thank you.”

The guy scurries off to fetch it for you, and five minutes and one elevator ride later, you're wrestling himself into your room, flexing your sore foot. Japan does hotel rooms well. The leather of your Manolo digs into your foot the way it does after you’ve walked the entire day and you can feel a blister forming on the back of your right heel but it doesn’t really matter, you guess, if you’re already home. Hotel-home, anyway.

You expect to find solace lounging on your bed, waiting out the hours to your morning briefing for the race and throw back a glass or two of vodka.

Instead, you find Max on your couch. He’s sipping ice-cold vodka—your ice-cold vodka.

“Hey, pretty,” he says. “Good vodka. I got staff to wire my FIFA on the TV.”

You just stare. “My TV. What,” you say, your eyes spotting the bottle of frosty vodka by his glass, “are you doing here?”

“I hadn’t seen you all day and I wanted to,” he explains simply. “Do you want food or something?”

“Food? I—nevermind,” you shrug. You’re frozen by the door, only just warmed now from the cold air that bit at your bare legs. “Max, how long have you been here?”

“Since Will Buxton started the post-FP debrief,” he huffs. He fiddles with the remote in his grip and extends it to the TV, where FIFA comes to life. “Aw, come on, angel. I know, I know. No sex and all that. I just like your company, you know?”

“Please. Go fuck yourself,” you scoff, toeing off your shoes and wiping your hands on the fabric of your skirt. He says one thing but you expect another—it’s only natural, given all the other times one of you had failed to keep a similar promise. But still you walk yourself beside him, fix the strap of your short dress, and allow him to pour you a drink.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about lately?” He asks absently. “About how you’re always having these talks with me about… about not having sex anymore, but you never even last two days.” He raises you the glass. “What is it, relapsing?”

“Fuck you,” you mutter. “It’s only because you keep trying to get me all hot and bothered.” You recall each time: in Monaco, in Madrid, in France. “Maybe if you got off my back once in a while, we’d be back to normal.”

He shrugs. “You just don’t have strong resolve.”

“Excuse me?” You scoff, irritation scratching at your throat.

“Wanna test that out? Come play.”

Your eyes flit over to the bright screen, all exhaustion cleared from your system. An animated Kylian Mbappe kicks a football in a loop. “Fine. One round and you’re out of my room.” He throws his hands up in surrender and you make a move to sit next to him. Max puts his hands out towards you then, nodding. You mistake it for some handshake, accept them, and then he’s wrangle you onto his lap facing outward. You feel your pulse at your throat as he pulls you tight against him.

“This is cheating,” you say, your voice dry.

“You got it wrong. Teaching.”

He moves his fingers atop yours, explaining what to press, what goes where, what to do for this or that. He can smell your perfume, hear your stilted breaths, and when he peeks over your shoulder he can see where your dress falls loose, showing the lace of your bra and your tits underneath them.

If he had it his way, he’d hike your dress up and have you ride him. But he’s given you a challenge.

You play a practice round and end up scoring a few goals, fingers making quick work of the buttons. Behind you, Max watches, content, answering your questions when you ask them hurriedly—how do I do this? That? Did I just score?

You score once, then twice, then three times, and before you know it you’re scoring in quick succession. The game is fun—it’s easy. If Max was trying to give you a hard time, he failed. You grow determined, competitive within seconds (something he really should’ve anticipated), and you’re scoring goals with skill that you’d confidently say rivals Max’s.

Max. You almost—almost forget he’s there, and then you sit up straighter and you’re hit with the sensation of his dick pressing into your ass. You inhale sharply and the controller clatters to the floor.

“You okay, pretty?” His hand comes up to rest on your knee, inching closer and closer with every hitch of your breath. Your hand, now free of the controller, seizes his, stopping it right at the middle of your thigh.

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah? You look stressed.” He doesn’t move. “You were so close, too, weren’t you?” The score stares you right in the face: 4-5. “Maybe you just need to get your mind off it.” It’s so bullshit, so extremely obvious, but he’s right in your ear and his hand is so near where you’ve missed its presence.

You’re usually competitive. You can usually hold your ground. But with this and him—

“Maybe,” you breathe, loosening your grip. He spreads his legs, spreading yours in the process, and brings his hand closer, running slender fingers over the lace material of your underwear until you’re squirming. It grows damper the more he touches, your mouth hanging open with stunted whimpers.

“You always come back to me, schatz, don’t you,” he says, whispers against your ear. You wrench a moan out. “Remember the first time? You interviewed me in Abu Dhabi… you teased me the whole day and begged to come thrice in my room. The time in Monaco you touched yourself to me when I was in the next room. The time we almost hooked up in Miami…” He groans, to himself more than you. “You’re a dirty girl.” He’s curling two fingers inside of you now, grazing against the sweet spot pulls the most delicious moans out of your innocent mouth.

“Every time… you go, that was the last time.” While your mind recaps the memories he’s busy spelling into your ear, Max’s fingers are curling inside of you against that sweet spot just right, and your moans are getting louder and louder.

“Fuck,” he huffs, watching your flushed face get more and more euphoric.

“Aw, pretty, look at that,” Max laughs. He’s looking at your thighs, watching the way they tense and shake as his fingers stroke your g spot. Each pump and curl into your twitching pussy feels better and better, and your dripping walls are starting to clench around his fingers.

“Wait, I—I can’t,” you pant, lolling your head onto his shoulder and involuntarily bucking your hips upward.

“Yeah you can,” he orders. “It’s so easy to get you to cum, isn’t it? Or is that just for me? The driver you hate the most?” He laughs. “Get all wet for the guy you couldn’t care less about. Say you hate me and get my dick nice and wet the next day.” You’re grinding onto his three fingers now, shameless with it.

“Are you gonna cum?” He asks.

“Oh,” you whine. “Yeah, fuck—yes.”

“Tell me what you’re gonna do,” he says wickedly. You can hear him smile.

“I’m gonna—please—I’m gonna cum,” you pant, tension coming to a halt and then bursting all at once out of you. His other arm holds your hips down against him, and you spend a minute and another twitching, your skin sticky with sweat and slick.

It’s not long before you’re whirled back to face him, your hands making quick work of his jeans. It’s a skill you’ve both mastered, the art of the quickie—in closets, hotel rooms, with sweaty, open-mouthed kisses pressed along the column of your throat, moans swallowed.

He hikes your dress up and your panties to the side, immediately bullies his cock into you—the glide is slow, but easy. You’re so fucking wet.

“Fucking big,” you gasp out. “Jesus, Jesus—fuck.” Your head drops and presses against his; he uses the opportunity to kiss you. You moan into it, feeling the stretch, your slick wetness dragging down the length of him as he thrusts up, up, further. “Been a while.”

“Feel good, though, yeah?” Your toes curl and you nod; you’re flushed all over and you need him to hurry up. You grind downward, onto him. He does, then, fucks you hard and fast, like he’s thirsted for this for way longer than he did. You’re squirming, all wet, and it tempts him to go harder. Your face is shiny with sweat, lips drawn in between your teeth.

“Slo—slow down,” you manage, babbling; he doesn’t, speeding up his thrusts until you’re moaning his name. “Max—wait—fuck, you’re so mean,” you whine, wrapping your arms around him and letting him take control.

“You’re fine,” he grunts, pulling out almost all the way. “You take my dick so well, schatz, every fucking time. Don’t you?”

“I do,” you gasp out, and he’s slamming into you gain. You cry out loudly, sniffling from the overstimulation—you’d barely recovered from your initial orgasm and already you’re hurtling into what feels like three at the same time.

“For someone who doesn’t like me,” he sneers, “you sure do moan like a slut, huh?”

His words get you more turned on than you’re willing to admit, but you shake your head.

“No?” He laughs, breathy from the effort. “Maybe I should film you now. Send it to your boss, let him see his stellar reporter’s getting Verstappen’s dick wet.”

Finally, the tension building inside of you reaches a head, and your pussy starts to twitch around his dick. He notices, grunts sharply and leans forward, shuddering as he releases into you. Your moans are choked and tapering into whimpers as you release slick all over him, and you attempt to catch your breath, collapsing onto his still-clothed, now-sticky chest. You scratch at the dri-fit material and inhale him, the smell of his cologne, his sweat. You bite at his earlobe, laugh when he flinches.

“That,” you say into his skin, “was the last time.” It’s both seriously and as a joke, playing off of what he’d remarked earlier.

“Jesus, princess. I’m still inside you.”

You giggle and drum lightly along the plane of his chest. In a few minutes he’ll pick you up to shower, but now you’re content to inhale him in. Quietly you wonder why you just can’t get enough of him—if you were in better senses, you’d have realized he was thinking the same thing about you.

#f1 #max verstappen #max verstappen smut #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader

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trendywaifus · 3 months ago

Text

SCREAMPIED !

— there seems to be a second serial killer who has their eyes on you. but it seems like they came for you for a different reason. will they be a failure like the last one was? ↳ INSPIRED BY SCARY MOVIE.

a/n — ngl i put more thought to this than the last one so think of this as the better sequel. it’s long btw.

part one

↳featuring ghost face! transfem! feixiao x fem! reader

GENRE — THRILLER, COMEDY, FORCED ROMANCE

WARNINGS — 2000’s COLLEGE AU, UNPROTECTED SEX, ORAL FIXIATION, CUNNINGLIUS, CREAMPIE, CURSING, TEASING, SLIGHT KNIFE PLAY, SIZE KINK, PENTRATION, VAGINAL PENETRATION, MIND DUMBFICATION, POSSESSIVE FEIXIAO

“ it seems like events are repeating theirselves once again as there’s been another murder, not one, but two this time, “ the blonde newsreporter stood in front of your college campus in the middle of the night as she emphasizes her words, “ that’s right folks you heard me, two murders happened right on this campus yesterday night involving a twenty–five old male, caelus and a twenty—four year old, dan heng. “

previously leaning back into the sofa, utterly bored out of your mind, you hastily scoot your butt to the edge of the cushion, jaw slacking in shock. “ oh my god? dan heng and caelus? what the fuck, why? how? “ you didn’t know the two very well but they were very popular around the college. caelus was an average jockey who was apart of the football team and dan heng was the quiet boy you’ll mostly see at the back of a classroom or in a library. the only reason why they was so popular is because they were seen with each other a lot—well it was mostly because of caelus following dan heng around like a puppy. they fit the stereotypical quiet boy and jock boy romance bullshit. it was cute as fuck but god it felt like you were a background character witnessing a yaoi manga in real time.

the news reporter walks around the half empty campus, looking for poor college students to interview. since it was halloween night, there was a good amount of people hanging around the campus in halloween costumes. “ i’m sorry, young man—i mean young lady, do you have a second?” the lady walks up to a person and the camera panels to a tall, grey-haired woman wearing a baggy tracksuit who strikes a strong sense of familiarity in you. her sun colored eyes glances between the camera and the news reporter in confusion. their voices blur in your ears as your pensive gaze lingers on the familiar woman currently on camera. your mind flashes back to last halloween where you fucked the shit out of a dumbass killer who broke into your house and looked just like her. “ am i genuinely tripping right now or is this who i think it is? “ you blink several times at the screen, “ is she at the same fucking campus i’m going to?! how in the fuck have i not seen her until conveniently now? bullshit. “

her soft voice rings through the mic, “ caelus was my brother and— “

you let out a string of curses, snatching the remote from the table and angrily changed the channel to some shitty slasher movie. “ she’s caelus’s sis? and a hot one at that. ugh, that makes so much sense because they look like twins. i knew she looked familiar when i unmasked her. i bet she’s the one who did it. maybe i should snitch—wait, since i knew about her and fucked her, would i get arrested for swallowing and letting her nut in me? what would i call that? guilty by fucking. .?”

actually. . .you changed your mind. if she does it again next halloween that’s when you’ll report her. yeeah. but then again, why would she even kill her own brother and his boyfriend? that’s some fucked up sibling beef. but you know one thing, she better not try and fuck with you again—

ring ring !

“ son of a. . .” you reach for your house phone on the table beside the sofa and bring the phone to your ear. “ hello? “ you hold your breath as you wait for the person the other line to speak.

“ . . .hi, (name)? “ your friend’s high-pitched voice, march, comes through the speaker. you let out the most heaviest sigh of relief.

“ good it’s you. march, question. .did you know that caelus had a sister? “ you inquire, leaning your body back into the soft cushion, idly watching the slasher chase his victim on tv.

“ umm, yeah? “ she replies back with a matter-of-fact tone. “ her name’s stelle, she’s apart of the girl’s varsity basketball team but you really only see her at the gym, track, and other athletic clubs. i think i have one core class with her but she’s really quiet and a little weird. let’s just say she’s the total opposite of caelus in terms of popularity and personality. which is sad ‘cus she’s such a hottie too. . “ well, stelle sure wasn’t the total opposite with you. “ by the way, you heard about caelus and dan heng right? i’m genuinely shocked that they got shanked! they were so good together—maybe the killer is a homophobe?”

“ march, don’t start. “ you groaned, running a lazy hand through your hair. march loves to gossip and gets wild with her speculations at times. though, they are pretty entertaining as the rumors she tells you about from being apart of the cheerleading team and photography club.

“ hear me out! last year there was multiple murders in our town but only two of them were students from our campus. the snazzy guy, aventurine who liked to make crazy bets to earn money and sunday, the student council and robin’s brother. “

“ um, so? “

march sighs, “ there was rumors that aventurine messed around with vertus ratio in y’know, that way so people were speculating that they had a thing. sunday was also caught with adventurine during— “

you cut her off, “ march, i don’t know if anyone told you this but like, half of the men here are into hot dogs. like, they’d definitely have a huge sausage party if all of them were to get together. so, the killer wouldn’t be homophobic if over half of the men at our college likes ding-a-lings. “

“ ughhh, these killings seem pretty targeted if you ask me. but i have to go, i need to go through my camera. i took some photos of cool costumes people was wearing. i’ll talk to you tomorrow bestie, bye~ “ she ends the call and you set the phone back down where it belongs.

you sit there in silence, spacing out. the whole situation is pretty weird and the fact that you were previously targeted counters march’s claims. to you, the killings were just random and unhinged like stelle. you just don’t know understand how someone goofy as her can possibly be responsible for the murders. who gives a shit though, you’ll just fuck stelle and pretend the whole thing is a porno if she comes back to try again.

ringgggg !

your shoulders slack in annoyance and you reach for the buzzing phone again. “ hello? it’s getting late, call me tomorrow—“

a muffled, raspy voice interrupts you, “ what’s your scary movie, doll face? “

you let out a sigh, not an ounce of fear invoked in your heart. you’re not scared this time from already experiencing this. “ oh, so you came back for more, stelle? i just saw you on the news. “ a snort leaves your smirking lips. “ are you actually going to kill me this time? “ the mysterious voice laughs with mirth, and somehow it sounds different from before.

“ this is not stelle. you scared her away, which i’m impressed about. but i’m not here to kill you baby, oh no, “ their voice lowers a pitch as they rasp, “ i was hoping to get my hands on your pretty ass, ‘been wanting you for a long time now. shoulda’ been me who got fucked instead of her. now to start things off, why not answer my question— “

“ oh, so i attracted another one. fuckin’ great. didn’t see that one coming. “ you say sarcastically, hanging up the phone right in that weirdo’s face. “ like damn, my pussy gotta be a magnet now if another one is stalking me. they gotta have some skype slasher group chat going on. .“ it hasn’t even been five minutes and the phone goes off again. you smack your lips, picking up the phone once more.

“ yo. “

“ hanging up on me is pretty rude, pup. i’m trying to be patient for you and i’m generally an impatient person.— “

you roll your eyes, “ choke on a dick, jackass. “

“ hehe, you’re going to be choking on mines by tonight— “

“ don’t care, bucko. just because i fucked your friend doesn’t mean shit. i’m not going to answer your question either. if you want your dick blown, have that dumbass hottie friend of yours to do it. bye. “

you slammed the house phone down and got up from the couch. “ i’m going to wash my ass, fuck this shit.“

forgotten about the shitty horror movie playing in the background, you left the living room and made your ways towards the stairs to take a shower. oh, no, hopefully the big bad killer won’t secretly follow you upstairs and get you while you’re taking a shower. you roll your eyes with a dry laugh at the thought. “ cover for me, “ you pat the large piano that you somehow stationed at the top of the stairs, “ if not, i’m ripping out your keys like they’re damn press-on fingernails, okay? “ the piano responds back with hurried high notes as it slightly trembles. you don’t even know why your father has a piano in the house, neither you or him can play for shit. you really only say that you have a piano to score the magneta—haired babe who’s into classical music. what was her favorite song again? dramatic epiphany?

“ atta girl. “

you take your shower without any disturbance. well, your soap kept “slipping” from your hand so you had to bend down a few times to get it. (un)fortunately a dick didn’t magically appear and stick itself in you. steam spills into your bedroom as you walk out of the misty bathroom with a tank top and shorts on, drying your hair with a towel wrapped around your shoulders. as you made your way back downstairs, you lazily thanked the piano. “ thanks. i guess i’ll have to play with you sometime as a reward. “

you ignore the cheery high notes hitting your ears as you walk down the steps.

and as soon as you stepped inside of the living room, the phone rings again. you angrily picked up the house phone for the third time within two hours. you drape the towel over your shoulder as you plop down on the sofa. “ this is the third fucking time you called my damn phone! “ you barked, pausing the cheesy horror film you forgot was on while taking a “quick”one hour shower, “ take a hike you fuckin’ bum! and don’t even bother asking me about what my damn favorite scary movie is because i don’t have one! there! stelle was somehow less annoying than you are! “

nothing but heavy breathing can be heard on the other line and if you listen closely, you can hear wet sounds of skin slapping against skin. “ fucck, “ the killer’s voice groans out, “ keep yelling, i’m almost finished. .mm. .“

“ you got to be fucking kidding me. “ you mutter irritably, face crunching up with disgust.

“ you sound so sexy when you’re upset, i love it. ‘that’s just how i want my girl to be. “ they continue to speak in a strained voice, “ and i’m jealous that you keep mentioning that girl when i’m here. by the end of this night, you’ll be expecting me instead around every halloween~ “

“ fuck off, loser! “ you snarl through gritted teeth, “ what i’m expecting from you is to stop calling my phone and leave. me. alone.”

“ no, because i’m already here~ “

on cue, they casually pop out into the doorway of your kitchen with their own phone near their masked head, dressed in the similar ghoulish outfit like last halloween. their statue seems a bit taller or just as tall as stelle’s. you shoot up from the couch, the towel that was once on your shoulder falls to your feet. you clutch the house phone, ready to use it as a weapon. “ what the fuck? how did you get in here? “

chuckling lowly, they lean into the doorway, crossing their arms in a relaxed manner. “ you have a habit of leaving your back door open, a bad habit for such a pretty girl like you who’s constantly home alone. though, i’m not complaining. it made things easier for me~ “ they purred.

“ yeah? w-well, come at me! this ain’t my first rodeo, creep! “

“ and it certainly won’t be your last, baby. “ they remarked smoothly, stepping into the living room. heat simmers in your belly. damn, had they not been some weirdo, you would’ve of just let them have it and keep your panties as a trophy.

“ try me! “ you chucked the phone at the unwanted guest and sprinted towards the dining room. you can easily just loop in the kitchen, tire them out, and head toward upstairs for the piano. “ oh i will baby, all nighhht! “ they run after you, quick on their feet. you dash through the dining room and into the kitchen, hauling over to the rectangular counter conveniently at the middle of the kitchen. they let out a amused laugh as they realized your plan.

“ really, pup? you can’t possibly think you’re going to outwit me with this boring trick. c’mon, you don’t have to make it harder for us, i swear i won’t hurt ya!”

you take a hurried step to the side, they do the same. “ fuck you! “ you grab an apple from the fruit bowl and threw it at the other end of the counter. they easily dodge it and seize the chance to dash towards your end. you took off running to the other end and it repeats for a few minutes. you can tell they were getting frustrated from the way they would curse and slam their fist onto the marble surface whenever they fail to outsmart your loops.

“ damnit girl, it’s starting to get hot under this thing! as much as i want to play ring around the rosy with you, i can hardly move with this on! just be a good girl and come over here so i bend you over this counter!“ they growled impatiently, mirroring every step you take. you move to the left, they move to the left. you move to the right, they move to the right. “ fuck no, stupid bitch! “

they click their tongue with a plan in mind. “ if that’s how you want to play it, “ they bait you by acting like they’re running to your end and as soon as you sprint halfway to the other side, they quickly slide over the counter. you let out a troubled scream as the triumphant killer throws their arms around you and yank you into their solid body. “ gotcha baby~—hey, watch your damn elbow! “ they narrowly dodge your elbow jabbing at their head.

“ l-lemme go! “ you cried out, kicking and thrashing in their tight hold.

“ nah, not when you made me work for it, girlie. now, stop struggling orr. .” you feel something sharp pressed against your neck. they chuckle darkly in your ear.

“ ugh! oh no, you have a knife against my neck, i guess i have to follow whatever you say or some shit. ” you grumble sarcastically in defeat, relaxing in her arms.

“ hehe, that’s my girl. at least you know how to play your part as the main girl well, hm? “ they turn you around and back you up against the counter. your opposer towers over you, trailing their knife gently along your jaw and tap it under your chin. a pleased hum leaves them as they shamelessly admire your features. “ wow, “ they awe breathlessly, the cool metal gradually runs down your neck, “ now that i’m up close and personal, you look like a fine piece of work, baby. fuck, i’m jealous stelle got to you first—which is why i killed her brother and his butt buddy. she was only suppose to scare you. ”

“ wh-what the fuck? who the hell are you? “

they rip off the ghostface mask and your eyes pop open like you seen a bunch of aliens walking around in the streets with thongs on. once again, you’re face to face with a familiar woman. long white tresses flutters down her shoulders, large, foxian ears spring out and stand tall as she looks down at you with her mischievous, piercing cerulean hues. how the hell did she get everything to fit into that mask?

“ f-feixiao? you’re that team captain from the woman’s varsity basketball team! “

feixiao smirks down at you, teeth baring. “ surprise~”she croons, her voice sounding much clearer and distinct. she’s popular amongst the girls in the college, a huge fuckgirl who you avoid like the plague. yeah, she’s the whole package but you find her a cocky tryhard who thinks she’s humble. “ it honestly could of been anyone but you. “

she juts out her bottom lip in a playful pout, ears slightly flattened. you know she’s pretending like the jester she is. “ what, you don’t like me? i did nothing to you. “

you cross your arms with a curled brow. “ that’s true. you did nothing to me but you did do something to a whole bunch of other girls. “ feixiao laughs, then licks her lips as her roughish gaze lowers at your exposed cleavage then back up into your eyes. she presses herself into you, bringing her lips to the shell of your ear. you feel something hard against your thigh. what’s up with women having dicks?

“ you don’t like that, pretty girl? i can always stop for you if you become my main girl. “ the white haired woman nibbles at your lobe and kisses at the spot right under your ear. you unfold your arms to grip the bulky edges of the counter behind you as she peppers damp kisses down the column of your neck. “ how many girls have you told that to? “ you bite your lip, holding back a groan.

“ jus’ you baby, promise. “ feixiao mutters against your skin, rocking her steady hips into yours. her knife trails down your cleavage and you stiffen. she chuckles at your jumpy reaction, and dips her head down to lap at the hardening bud through your tank top with her eager tongue. a short groan exits from your parted lips. feixiao cup the underside of your clothed breast and attach her hungry mouth to the bud. she suckles and firmly tugs until her spit ruins the fabric of your tank top.

“ damn, you know what. . “ feixiao carelessly tosses the knife on the counter behind you, abruptly pulls away, and releases your breast to lift up her inky hooded robe with one hand while the other fumble downward to unzip her ripped black jeans. your wandering gaze takes a glimpse of her abs, which tastefully protrude through the tight fabric of a black top underneath. damn. “ on your knees. “ she commands, desperation tainting her proud voice. you begrudgingly do so, waiting for feixiao to pull out her dick.

“ oh. .my god. “ you gawk as she finally frees herself. yeah, she’s definitely packing—a least two inches bigger than stelle. it’s slightly curved to the left, and girthy. you swallowed thickly. you see why the girls flock to her. feixiao smiles smugly at your big doe eyes, “ that’s the reaction i’ve been wanting to see,”considerate, gloved fingers gently push back the tousled locks from your eyes and into a ponytail. “ be my lady and you’d get to see this damn near every night, fuck every halloween. “

the tip of her cock playfully pokes at your lips. “ tempting, but no. i still don’t like you, feixiao. “

feixiao pouts before sighing with defeat despite not feeling discouraged by your answer. “ fine. i’m still not giving up, i bet you’ll change your mind by the time i’m done with you. now open up. “

you comply and feixiao momentarily release the hold from your hair to slowly slides herself in your moist mouth. only half of her is in and yet she feels heavy on your tongue. “ mmmh. . “ she sucks in a sharp breath, taking a brief moment to adjust. “ ‘gonna go slow, baby. “ feixiao groans, slowly rolling her hips into your mouth. your pillowy lips enclose around her shaft and your hands rest on her thighs. her fat cockhead graze the back of your throat before retreating away.

“ you look so pretty on your knees like this—damn, i might cream in your mouth right now from just looking at you. . “

your brows knit together. is she actually serious right now? there’s no way you got the biggest fuckgirl in your college, who also revealed herself to be a murder, saying shit like this. this has to be some sick halloween fantasy written by a horny bum with failing romance in their life.

feixiao slightly speeds up her moving hips, edging herself more down your throat as she thrusts. she tips her head back, becoming tipsy to the addicting warmth and wetness of your mouth. your spit coats her thick shaft, leaving behind a sheen. “ no gagging so far? hehe, you’re doing so well, pretty. .” feixiao moans out shamelessly, biting her bottom lip to the filthy, drawn out squelching noises producing from your stuffed mouth.

she grips your ponytail a little tighter, “ actually, i change my mind—fuck. .i might lose it if i go at this pace. breathe through your nose now, baby. i promise i’ll be quick! “

you rolled your eyes and nod your head, relaxing your jaw. she blurts out a cheery yes! then adjusts her footing. just like how feixiao wanted, she starts rutting into your mouth. you force out series of guttural sounds, but you don’t yield from her deep thrusts. your constricting walls swallow in her needy cock, earning strings of curses and groans. “ just what i-i thought, your throat feels amazing. i-i can only imagine what she feels like. . “ she moans, repeatedly snapping her sloppy hips into your mouth.

she? oh god, did feixiao really just refer to your pussy as a she? was this some sort of fuck girl slang?

beads of spit seep from the corners of your filled mouth and trickle down your chin like drool. your fingers slightly dig into her black pants as your gag reflex kicks in. feixiao pulls back just enough so her length lays heavy on your tongue, eagerly waiting to continue. “ i’m already half way there, hang in there.” she assures with unusual softness in her quivering voice, “ tap me once so i can keep going. “

and you do so, patting her thigh once. she starts again, shoving her cock back down your throat. your throat tightens on reflex and she whines, twitching. “ damn girl, now i’ll be almost there if you do that a—ohhhh. . “ feixiao grits her teeth, lolling her head down as you voluntarily close your walls around her. she feels stuck but stubbornly keeps thrusting, fucking your tight throat until she’s on the verge of cumming. “ th-the best—y-you’re the best. .sh-shit,”squeezing her eyes shut, sweat drips down to the tip of her nose,” i swear i wouldn’t n-need to talk and fuck any other girls if i had you. “ feixiao babbles, the cockiness in her voice is completely replaced with spiraling desperation.

the white–haired woman thrusts again and again, and stops suddenly as her fat, twitching cock fully squeezes through your throat. “ ‘gonna cum, b-baby. .” she holds your head still and thick, syrupy ropes shoots down your throat. heavy exhales escape from your nose while you swallow most of her load. “ good fuckin’ girl. . “ feixiao praises through a passionate whisper, and pulls away completely once you start to gag and choke. thank god for practicing your oral skills with your toothbrush routinely every morning and night or you would of left a colorful mess all over her dick. it’d be like one of those mainstream japanese shows where it shows the character vomiting. narudo z was it?

the bitter taste of her cum lingers on your tongue. it takes a minute for feixiao to stablize her breathing as she steadies herself on the counter. with a sigh, she stands upright and looks down at you with an easy smile. “ i’m not done with you yet. get up and gimme some sugar, yeah? “ she firmly pulls you up by the forearm, forcing you on your feet. feixiao hold your jaw between her thumb and index finger and maneuvers your head up at her. you cringe as her glowing ocean blue eyes bleed into yours. did they get brighter or some shit? you swear it wasn’t like that before.

she notices the squinty eyes and uncomfortable expression sitting on your face. “ what’s wrong, pup?”

“ it’s like i’m looking at a fucking blue glow stick in the dark. i see why people look the other way when they talk to you. “

feixiao pouts again, genuinely looking offended. “ okay, ouch? i can’t help the way my eyes are! i actually take pride in them. “

“ how unfortunate. imagine how awkward the sex would be if we do it missionary? if i can’t look you in the eyes while we fuck because of the risk of going blind, then that’s a hard pass for me. “ as if being a seasonal killer wasn’t already a hard pass.

“ haah? “ feixiao’s eyes go wide with surprise, “ don’t be like that! we can always work around that, i can have you on your stomach while i—“

“ i don’t want to hear it. just shut up and close your eyes before you kiss me. “

she grumps, complying with your demand. her disappointment almost instantaneously disappears by the soft caress of your perfect lips. feixiao’s tongue prod at the small opening between your lips and you allow her in with ease. a low moan resonates in her chest as the bitter taste of her seed in your mouth welcomes her senses. her tongue feverishly swirls around yours. she doesn’t care if the kiss is sloppy, she doesn’t care about her teeth occasionally clashing with yours—the only thing that’s on her mind right now is you, you, you.

once your chest start get to tight from the lack of oxygen, you lightly push feixiao away from your spit-coated lips by her biceps. even through the robe, you can feel the curled, firm muscle. string-like saliva stretch and dissipate between you and her. there’s carnal desire in her sky blue eyes as she peers down at you. “ my mouth and throst is feeling kinda dry right now, “ she whispers, gloved fingers unbuttoning your pajama shorts, “ how about you let me return the favor while i hyd–“

“ just eat me out. you already broken into my home and chased me and shit. “

feixiao laughs, sounding almost sheepish. “ i have no regrets doing it either, y’know. i also have no worries you’ll tell anyone too since that girl is still walking around scott free. “ well yeah, if you do tell, ‘pretty sure you’ll get fucking arrested too. she drops to her knees once she slides your shorts and ruined panties down to your ankles. the taller woman whistles with delight at the appetizing sight of your dripping pussy.

“ damn baby, did i get you this wet? “ her mouth salivates from watching your arousal slowly roll down your inner thigh.

“ no i just thought about killing myself. “

she raises a brow at you, spreading your legs out an inch wider. “ you dislike me so much that you’ll use that as your lie? “

“ yup. “

feixiao tsk, spreading your puffy folds with two fingers. “ my stubborn girl. even if i couldn’t get you to warm up to me so easily, at least she did. “ she laps up the trail and her eyes flutters at the delicious taste. without warning, she buries her face between your legs and give your bundle of nerves a spoiling amount of messy kisses. her tongue broadly licks at your soaked folds, collecting your sticky essence on her tongue. “ fuck.” you curse in a breathy voice, one of feixiao’s pierced fox ears twitch. she sloppily circles her tongue around your clit before sucking on it. feixiao sucks hard, causing your toes to curl.

feixiao grows hard again to the sounds of your labored breathing and shaky mewls. she drag her tongue to your fluttering entrance and acts as if she’s making out with you as her tongue teases your dripping hole. “ oh my god. . “ your hand flies down to grip her surprisingly soft locks. the thick tip of her tongue rushes a sloppy stripe back up your pussy. she kisses at the sweet spots that makes your knees visibly tremor. feixiao smiles smugly into your cunt, returning down to your drooling slit. she laps and obnoxiously slurps at the thick fluids dribbling out of you. her ministrations last for a few minutes until you become jumpy and sensitive.

“ best drink i had in a while, baby. mmhh. .” she mutters through hot breaths, sneaking a hand under her robe to stroke herself. she’s beyond excited—growing utterly impatient to fuck you dumb and reshape your insides into her home. no matter what insult you throw at her, how much you claim to dislike her; she’s not letting you go. you’re too good to let go. after all, she did kill for you. you droop your head to the side, a broken moan ripping itself from your raw throat as her tongue pushes inside. “ f-feixiao, fuckk—i. .” you stop yourself, swallowing back the words that’s threatening to spill from your glistening lips. feixiao lets out a strained sound similar to a moan and fists her cock until it’s angry red and swollen. you moan again at the vibration shooting through your heated body and fondle your breast with a clumsy palm. you pinch at the hardened nipple through your tank-top between slender fingers.

feixiao’s practically tongue fucking you, albeit hastily. your gummy walls squeeze her slimy muscle as you grind on her tongue. you’re becoming light-headed, hazy from the swelling pleasure clogging up your mind and body. “ feixiao, i-i want you—“ you blurt out impulsively. at this point, you just want to get fucked into oblivion, “ pl-please fuck me with your cock, your tongue i-isn’t enough. .”

she doesn’t waste a second to rip herself away from your pussy, not caring about the lower half of her face stained with your juices, and rushes up to her feet. she briefly steps back to remove the annoying robe from over her head and throws it aside on the floor. you finally get to see what she’s fully wearing under and it took every ounce of your being to not fall for her. a tight-fitted sleeveless turtneck top that shows off her athletic structure, sculpted milky arms, broad shoulders, fairly supple tits—shit! no matter what, you have to remind yourself that she’s a serial killer and a fuckgirl. she’s just a good fuck to finish off your eventful halloween night. “ anything you want, my pretty girl. jump. i’ll catch you.” you hurriedly step out of your shorts and undergarments pooling at your feet. with two hands clamped onto feixiao’s broad shoulders, you hop into her solid arms, wrapping your shaky legs around her waist. she secures you in her embrace, “ screw bending you over, i like this position better.” she comments, hoisting you up by the fat of your ass.

quickly, feixiao lines herself up with your throbbing pussy and guides you downward. you moan loudly as her girthy length fills up your empty pussy, stretching you out until you’re rubbing against her ripped jeans.“ nnghh. .s’tight, baby—damn, you’re so mine.” she growls possessively in your ear. you want to deny her but you can’t. the way she’s building up her momentum, jerking her hips sharply into your hole has you whimpering pathetically.

squuuish! slooosh! squuuish!

your slippery walls make it easier for her to go deeper and faster. you helplessly cling onto her for dear life, tangling your fingers into rivers of white tresses. it’s been a while since you been fucked good like this—the type of fuck that has you seeing constellations, drooling like a baby, and your mind made into someone’s home. “ m-more fei—fuck, moreeeee~” you babbled, bouncing on her fat cock without a care in the world. your slick smears the stiff fabric of her jeans and globs of it spill onto the tile floor. although strained, feixiao’s laugh rings through your ears. “ haha, fei? it looks like you’re g-giving into me~” she sing-songs, pounding your pussy with quick pistons of her ruthless hips.

feixiao’s curved shaft deliciously rub against your sweet spots, the swollen cockhead smack against your g-spot. you nearly scream as she rams right into it, “ yes! r-right there, pleasee, pleaseee! “ you’re sobbing, begging for a sweet release you’ve desperately been craving. she gives you a few lingering wet kisses on your hot cheek while she fucks you. “ you know i gotcha, my baby—hnngh. .! “

your pussy grips her cock like its afraid she’ll pull out and leave it empty. feixiao’s hips starts to stutter but she still keeps going on. you smash your lips against hers, kissing her sloppily and she gladly reciprocates back. your tongues twirl together, hot breaths combining into one.

“ mmph. . ! ❤︎ “

feixiao grinds her clumsy hips into the plush of your ass in a circular rotation, rubbing her twitching cock along your pulsating walls. a frothy ring forms near the base of her member that’s created by your slick and essence. you greedily suck on her tongue, tasting more of yourself. a guttural moan rumbles in her throat and she squeezes your ass. “ i never knew my girl was a freak. .” she breathes after you pulled away to moan.

“ mm, i-i’m not your girl. “ you slurred.

she chases after you and gently pull at your bottom with her fanged teeth. “ like hell you’re not. you already got me more in love, you think–mmh, after all of this i’d leave you alone? haha, no. shit. .i’m about to cum, sweetness. “

before you can say argue back, she thrusts hard into you one last time, forcibly provoking a surprised scream and an eye rolling orgasm from you. you and feixiao cum together in sync. “ t-take it all, baby~” she purrs, spurting her hot seed deep inside of you, painting your walls the color of her hair. you cling onto her, cumming violently on her dick. mixed, syrupy cum spills from your seeping hole and adds onto the growing puddle on the floor. foamy bubbles produce as she dumps the rest of her load into you. “ ‘full—i feel s’full, feixiao. . “ you whimper, shifting uncomfortably in her arms as a ball of hotness circulates in the pits of your stomach.

“ i know, pup. let’s stay like this for a little bit, i wanna hold my girl for a little while longer. “

you weakly smack your lips as she refers to you as her girl for the umpteenth time tonight.

“ wh-what did i tell you about—whatever makes you sleep better at night. .” you grumble, resting your chin on her broad shoulder while coming down from your high.

“ i’ll sleep even better now knowing that you’re mine~” you deeply frown at the smile in her smug voice.

fuck, what have you done? not only did you fuck two serial killers, but you have one of them on your ass.

please don’t make a continuation of this, i actually don’t want to end up in some threesome next year. thanks dumbass.

#halloween special #feixiao x reader #feixiao smut #honkai star rail women x reader #hsr smut #honkai star rail x reader

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bunny-jpeg · 3 months ago

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kink-o-ween - day 6

charles leclerc - pet play

cw: smut/pwp, collars & leashes, dom/sub, mean!charles, dirty talk, pet names (puppy), oral sex (charles receiving), deep throating, big cock!charles, consensual sex, pet play (duh)

charles remember the first time he put a collar on you. in fairness it wasn't a dog collar, but rather a cute choker that you asked him to help put on. when he got a good look at it around your throat, he felt the air out of his lungs for a moment.

"how does it look, honey?" you smiled, happy with how your outfit for the day turned out. you weren't doing anything too exciting, but you wanted to dress well. and when you took leo's leash in your hand to have your canine 'son' join you for the day, charles felt wires cross in his brain.

"you look... amazing." he smiled at you. the gears in his head were already turning.

it was after monza that the plan came to fold. charles had been meticulous with it all. while it wasn't the most complicated items to get, he wanted to make sure they were perfect.

if you looked good wearing a fabric choker and held a dog leash. then how would you look in a leather collar with a leash attached to it. if you were charles' good little puppy.

he didn't go behind your back about it though, it wasn't the kind of thing he could spring onto you. it was something that would have to be discussed and when he showed you the pretty red leather collar he wanted to get you. your face went hot and your eyes wide, but you simply told him, "yes. i'd love to." and charles had never bought anything so quick in his life.

he never knew he needed another puppy in his life.

in the private hotel room in monza, you happily stood in front of your lover while he sat on the couch in the small living room. beside him was a black box that the collar and leash arrived in before you left monaco. you were near naked in nothing but a mis-matched set of bra and panties. dark grey panties and your favourite white bra. honestly you could've worn a full clown costume and charles would still be itching to get his hands on you.

"one last time. do you want this?"

you smiled and got yourself down onto his thigh, you ran your fingers down the t-shirt he wore and looked into those beautiful eyes of his. you watched him softly lick his lips absent minded. it was cute. he wanted to make sure there were no issues between the two of you.

"yes, yes, yes." you clutched onto his shirt tighter and leaned in closer, "i want you. i want this. tonight." then went in for a kiss and charles' strong arms got around your waist. the kisses started soft, a promise that this was what you wanted. but, eventually, they grew hotter. and your hands dragged across him.

the touches left you yearning for more, your heart felt in your throat as your boyfriend rubbed up against you. when you broke the kiss, you could see the heat in his cheeks and you found him so painfully endearing. you placed a soft kiss on his cheek before you watched him take the box from the couch and open it for you.

inside was a collar, ferrari red. perfect for you. you tilted your head back and let the driver put the collar around you. his large, strong hands around your neck. he could easily choke you if he so desired. god, you were beautiful.

you looked gorgeous in red, it made his blood run hot. especially when he clipped the leash onto you. you mad a very pretty puppy. and all for him.

he cupped your face, feeling hot all over. like he was going to burn through his clothes as if he were an inferno. he said to you, "now, puppy. why don't you get between my legs and make yourself useful for me?"

you nodded dutifully, you slipped into the headspace so well. just as you slipped to your knees in front of him as he sat on the expensive couch in the hotel room. everything felt expensive, from the collar around your neck to the room you were in to the food you had for dinner. you were just another expensive piece in charles' repertoire, but he loved you more deeply than any material item.

you were his good little puppy.

he undid the fly of his jeans while he held the matching red leash around his hand. he eyed you with an insatiable want as he got his cock out of his bottoms. he stroked his cock with his free hand while he wound the leash in his other hand. he yanked your closer to him.

your nose almost touched his hard length. charles was known for packing down there. the whole grid and even their significant others knew about it. either seen it by accident (or on purpose) or have heard stories from those who have seen it. the prince was packing.

and he wanted every last centimeter between your lips and down your throat.

you rubbed your nose up against it a little as charles pulled you by the neck. he groaned in the open air of the bedroom as you slowly put your mouth around his length. you started gingerly against it, but the tug on your collar made you go deeper.

you took him perfectly, just as you had done a million times. you felt the thump in your chest as you licked at his cock lovingly. you managed to get it all the way to the back of your throat and it made him shudder.

"you look perfect." he said, "you look like someone who should be painting on the ceiling of a chapel." his breath was heavy as he felt you work at his cock. you were perfect. he yanked on your collar a little tighter, "does someone like being the puppy. do you like being on your knees for me?"

you knew it was a trap question. if you took your mouth off his cock, he'd simply shove you back down on it until you saw stars from the lack of oxygen to your brain. you gripped onto your knees as you continued to pleasure him. you felt like a dream, you made charles run hot as he gripped the leash tighter.

"good puppy, so good for me. you should wear it on the track. show everyone how obedient you are. you are, no? good for me." he chuckled as he continued to throat fuck you. he always went so deep in you and it made you gag sometimes.

it made your core grow hot as you continued to let him fuck your throat. your eyes closed as you felt his cock hit against the back of your throat as you got greedy and tried to take more and more. you shuddered as you felt it so hot all over.

"such a good puppy. so good for me. you know exactly how to take me." he gripped the leash tighter and forced you further onto his cock. your ears burned with blood as you continued to orally pleasure him. it all clouded your head as you yearned for more, more, more.

and charles was happy to provide. anything for his perfect for his puppy. his cock stayed in your mouth as you continued to make him feel good. you could feel yourself grow hotter from it all. you gagged onto his cock, but you kept taking him as best as you could. you could feel the heat in your body as you pleasured him.

he held onto the leash tightly. he made sure that his cock kissed the back of your throat as he kept your nose against his trimmed pubic hair. you felt on cloud nine as he pulled at you. his praise filled your brain as you moved against his cock.

even with the pulls at your leash, you felt amazing. and soon charles had gotten his cock back fully into your mouth. and with a few more hard thrusts he finished down your throat.

you whimpered and relaxed against his cock in your mouth. it slipped between your lips as you rested against his thigh. you looked up at him like a sweet little puppy and rubbed your thighs together. you looked like a dream and it turned the man on greatly as he carded his fingers through your hair.

you opened your mouth a little to show that you had swallowed it all with ease and were more than happy about it. which earned another head pat from your lover.

eventually he got you back into his lap and tenderly kissed at your face and neck while his hand grazed your hip. he said to you, "my puppy has done so good. you're amazing." you leaned into his touch and he continued to praise you.

that collar looked so pretty around your throat, you looked like a dream to him. his pretty puppy. <3

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fandomlit · 5 months ago

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the right to jealousy (draco malfoy x reader)

requested by anon "Hiii if it's not too late I saw you were looking for Harry potter requests!! If you write for Draco please do prompts 1, 31, 36, and 20 where he's jealous but doesn't want to admit it to reader and then just kisses her? If you don't write for Draco just ignore.. thank if you do!"

warning swearing, aggressive verbal argument

o hey i do writing prompts,, those used in this imagine will be in bold

gif cred belongs to @draco-fuckingmalfoy

"where have you been?"

you jumped, not expecting to hear a voice so late at night when entering the slytherin common room. placing a hand on your heart, you looked around with an annoyed expression to see draco malfoy sitting in one of the chairs, not even looking at you.

"why do you care?" you sighed, not forgetting how he had brushed you off earlier that day when you tried to talk to him in potions. draco had been rather crass with you lately; ignoring you in lessons, seemingly fuming every time he caught your eye, and making sneering comments at you when you managed to get him to say something. you were getting fed up with it; a week of sass from the guy you were crushing on had you grumpy in every lesson.

he finally looked up at you from the paper he'd been reading, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. "i am a prefect, you know."

you rolled your eyes. "how could i ever forget.." you started to make your way to the girls dormitories when you heard his footsteps approaching behind you.

"i asked where you've been."

you turned around to find him much closer than you'd expected, his jaw clenched and his expression positively livid. if you weren't so mad and confused with him, you would've found his anger achingly attractive. "what do you care, draco? you seem to take no interest in where i am any other hour of the day!"

"i don't care!" he spoke defiantly, but his own fury betrayed him. "i couldn't care less if you were out there with potter or whoever the hell in the middle of the night. but as your prefect, i ought to know!"

you blinked in surprise at the accusation of you being with someone. "what does it matter if i was with someone not, draco? do you just think of me as some common lass who sneaks out to get her-" the realization dawned on you mid sentence, and you watched carefully as draco's jaw clenched, as if he were biting back another shout amidst your working mind. "are you jealous?"

"oh come on, i see the way you've been looking at him," draco accused, dodging your question. "looking at him like everyone else does--like potter owns the castle and everyone in it. like he's some hero to our ranks. and i've seen the way he's been looking at you, too." before you could ask what the could possibly mean, he crossed his arms again and spat, "so was it him that was worth sneaking out for?"

you scoffed at him, shaking your head. "you're mad! you're deluding yourself into thinking i was out with someone because you're looking for something to be upset about!"

"i've said it once and i'll say it again: i don't care."

"everything about you right now screams otherwise," you scoffed again.

"just tell me who you were with and this is all over!" he spat, opening his arms in a frustrated manner. "i am a prefect, y/n, you have to tell me."

"get a new excuse!" you demanded. he just glared at you and you glared right back into his darkened grey eyes. you let your words ring for a moment before you asked again with less ferocity, "draco, are you jealous?"

"you're slow today," he spoke quickly and ferociously, taking your face in his hands and practically crushing your lips to his. despite the quickness and pent up aggression in the kiss, it was desperately satisfying to let go of the argument to throw your arms around his shoulders, letting days worth of tension melt into his mouth.

after a few quick, hot moments, the kisses turned slower and longer as the anger that began the exchange simmered, and all that was left was the passion that underlined everything between the two of you. when you both pulled apart, draco surged forward one last time for a long, hard kiss before he finally opened his eyes. you were slower to open yours as he dragged his hands your arms to slip to your waist, his face still only a mere inch from yours.

"better than whoever you were with?" he asked lowly, giving you a cocky half-smirk despite his hot breaths still hitting your lips.

you rolled your eyes but your former anger didn't resurface. "considering i was just at a private astronomy lesson with professor sinistra, definitely." the admission made him close his eyes for a moment. "yeah, feel a little stupid now?"

"no," he was quick to answer, grey gaze immediately locking with yours again. "now that you're mine.." you raised your eyebrows at him but didn't interrupt, "i have the right to feel whatever the hell kind of jealousy i want."

"so you admit it, then?"

#hp #harry potter #hp x reader #hp imagine #harry potter imagine #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fanfic #harry potter fanfic #hp fanfic #draco malfoy x slytherin!reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco x reader #draco imagine #draco fanfic #draco drabble #hp drabble #draco malfoy drabble

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bones4thecats · 1 month ago

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┗ A Star's Shield; Starscream × F! S/O ┛

Characters: Starscream (Transformers One) A/N: This was a lot of fun to write, though I do believe it could have been better, I do think it turned out pretty good. Anyways, sorry for the long wait for this. Enjoy <3 Trigger Warnings for: Kidnapping, corrupt government, assault, unwanted advances. Sentinel is just his own trigger warning at this point. ⇘ Summary: After being captured by Airachnid and the Cybertronian Government, you were thrown into a room with the rest of your captured High Guard members and two miner bots. As you were handed over to Sentinel Prime by his right-hand, you notice your sparkmate, Starscream, watching you in an attempt to keep you and himself calm. But, when Sentinel begins to speak, not even B-127 could keep himself calm. Italic words = past memories

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┕━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┙

💫 A cozy set of rays from the sun began to cover Cybertron. Another day, another restless amount of hours trying to sabotage Sentinel Prime beyond what his reputation could save.

💫 The steps of a seeker made you look up from the surface floor of your base's exteriors. There, walking up to you, was Starscream. He had been leading your guard, the High Guard, for so long that you could hardly keep count, and that says a lot.

💫 Starscream looked at you and nodded. You responded the same as you looked back outside. It was hard to see without expert optics, but, far out in the distance, was Iacon City. Your optics narrowed as memories you once made there popped up. Anyone who understood your real self knew why that bothered you so much.

"I heard from Wreckwave that the Iacon 5000 is happening tomorrow." Starscream said.

"I did too. Why does it matter? Are we planning something big during it or something?" You questioned back.

"No. Though, it would be of expert insight that at least some-bot goes there to check on how the city is holding together after all this time."

💫 His optics slightly shut as he chuckled. He then lifted his arm and wrapped it around your shoulders, pulling you into his side as he laid his helm on top of your own. As seekers, you were both fairly tall, though, you were just about a head shorter than the masculine one next to you. Fortunate for him, unfortunate for your short self.

"Let me guess, Scream'. You want me to go down there with you?"

"I knew your processor would lock in sooner rather than later!" He smiled.

"And, what happens if, I don't know- a member of the guard sees us snooping around? You know that Sentinel and the High Guard aren't exactly friends, and most definitely not close to frenemies."

"That's the thing. I have spoken with Shockwave, and he has a device that shall last for, around a third of a cycle. Are you in or out, my dearest Y/N?"

"Is that even a question?"

═══════════════ ⋆★⋆

💫 Your optics went online as you groaned, pain covering the back of your helm as you looked around. You reached up and felt the back of your helmet, and once you felt the liquid, you froze in fear. You remembered what happened now.

💫 It was when those four bots were brought to your base. A blue and red one, a grey one with a Megatronus Prime sticker on his shoulder, another with a yellow-colored frame, and the only feminine one, whom was colored pink with some white here and there.

💫 They, well, the red and blue one at least, proposed that they were on the same side as you. They wanted to reveal Sentinel Prime as the traitor to Cybertron that he was. And honestly? You thought it was a pretty good deal. Starscream on the other hand? His own beliefs clouded his judgement of the four.

💫 When the grey one, whom the blue and red one called D, tried to walk out of the base to locate Cybertron's leader to punish himself, Starscream obviously was taking a hit to his own ego. Shocker.

💫 As he was chocked to the point that his voice-box was beginning to be crushed, making what was once a smooth and slightly-raspy voice begin to go from pitch to pitch with a highly artificial tang being added on top of it all. You had been able to slightly alter it, bringing the pitches down slightly, but fixing it fully was beyond anyone's abilities.

💫 While your memories came back, a dark figure stepped inside with golden-Cybertronians following suite. You looked up towards the helms of these people and scoffed. You recognized the tallest one. It was Airachnid. The heap of scrap that was somehow still alive well without any scratches. How disappointing.

"Get her up. I'm sure he's going to be very pleased to see his favorite old friend here." She said, grazing underneath your chin with one of her elongated insect-legs.

"Good to see you as well, Airachnid." You said.

💫 Airachnid rolled her optics and began walking away, a guard at both sides of you as you followed. Unwilling was one word to describe the entire journey through the tower's halls. Until you found Starscream and got the others out to safety, you needed to keep these fearful thoughts of yours out of sight and out of mind.

💫 Sentinel looked at a statue and glared, those Primes that tried holding the planet back from compromise. He did the right thing. Of course he did, how could his judgement be bad?

💫 The Prime looked over his shoulder and cocked a brow, wondering why Airachnid was bringing in some random seeker. So, in his true, straight-forward nature, asked the insect-themed Cybertronian about this.

"I'm sure you'll love to find out who this is."

"Yeah, yeah. Get to the point."

💫 The mask that covered most of your helm released pressure as it was unlocked by a guard. You grimaced as light hit you all of a sudden, seriously, a warning would be amazing sometimes.

"It can't be. Y/N?"

"...Y/N?"

💫 Sentinel's optics were wide as he stepped up to look closely at you. It just couldn't be you. There was no way in the name of the 13 Primes that you were alive and standing right before him.

"I almost forgot just how beautiful you were. Though, you looked better on the ground, kneeling before me." Sentinel smirked before allowing his hand to drift across your face, to your shoulder, and down to your sides. "Go ahead and undo her cuffs. I'm sure she won't claw me without orders."

"Are you sure, Sir?" A guard asked.

"Completely."

💫 Your brows furrowed as you glared at him. The clicks of your cuffs coming undone hit everyone's sound-receptors, and before anyone realized it, you had launched yourself at Sentinel, grabbing one of his wings and tugging on it to draw some sort of pain.

💫 Sentinel just glared and wrapped a servo around your neck, lifted you up in the air and chuckled darkly. Everyone, including the guards, shivered as he crushed your neck slowly and delicately, almost as if he was enjoying this pain he was drawing out of you.

"How did I know you were going to do that?"

💫 Crash.

"Y/N!" B-127 yelled.

💫 You yelped as your back made contact with the nearby wall. The pain that overtook your system was immediate, and it only worsened as a guard picked you up and threw you back at Sentinel to keep torturing.

💫 His servo wrapped around your neck once again, this time from behind as he held you flush against his front. Sentinel smirked and wrapped his opposite roam around your waist as you struggled to free yourself.

"You know, if you had just stayed by my side we could've been the perfect duo. Leading Cybertron into the future."

"Like hell I would've-" A gasp came out as his grasp on your vocal cords tightened.

"Had the most perfect model family unit. Two young sparklings filled with potential. Little Quartermaster and Artillery. Sounds just right, wouldn't you agree, lovely?"

"Get your servos off of her!" Starscream yelled.

"Oh?" Sentinel hummed. "I forgot just how dear you two held one another. Almost as if you were together for eons before I met you."

"We were, and still are! So, I will warn you one more time, Sentinel. Get your energon-stained servos off of my sparkmate!"

💫 Sentinel rolled his optics and latched another pair of cuffs on you, securing your violent impulses. He got near your sound-receptors once again and said quietly;

"To bad your love for that pitchy seeker kept that future out of my grasp."

💫 Starscream kneeled back down as you were thrown in front of him, dents in your frame as he looked you over. Fear was in his optics as he looked you over. And, as Sentinel moved onto D-16, Starscream paid attention to you, keeping the guards and Airachnid away from your frame. No more pain was going to come to you while he stood beside you.

💫 But, unknowingly to you both, that future was soon to be completely changed.

═══════════════ ⋆★⋆

"There is no way that Starscream yelled at Sentinel Prime!" Blitzwing said.

💫 You smiled at the bot holding two sparklings in his lap, acting like the older brother figure that he was for them as they've aged.

"Well, believe it or don't, I know for sure that he did." You said, turning around to look at the Second-in-Command of the Decepticons as he planned with Megatron the next move in the war.

"And I'm thankful every passing moment that he was there for me..."

#Transformers #Transformers One #TF One #TF One High Guard #Transformers x Reader #Transformers One x Reader #TF One x Reader #TF One High Guard x Reader #S/O! Reader #F! Reader #Cybertronian! Reader #TF One Starscream #TF One Starscream x Reader

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aajjks · 10 months ago

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Darkest Hour: Prisioner (m)

synopsis. Who was really the prisoner? Him who was behind bars? Or you? Who couldn’t even escape him, even now

pairing: yan!prisoner!jk x fem!gf reader.

warnings: YÂNDÈRÈ MÄTÜRÊ, DÄRK, öbsëssïön, STÖCKHÖLM SYNDRÖMÈ, ünhëälthy öbsëssïön, pôsessïvènèss, côntrôl, gúïlt trïppïng.

note. FEEDBACK IS NEEDED! ENJOY.

I DO NOT CONDONE THIS BEHAVIOUR IRL, THIS DOES NOT REPRESENT JUNGKOOK OR BTS IRL. DO NOT ROMANTACISE THIS BEHAVIOUR.

[GIF NOT MINE, IT BELONG TO OWNER, CREDITS TO THEM]

Your heart aches looking at him, his backis facing you as he is sitting on the old dirty bed, was he blankly staring at the walls? The walls that were the same thick grey stone as the dwellings of the region,

But instead of a wide window with a flower box there was a mean barred opening with thick metal bars and no glass. The weight on your chest was heavy. As your gaze travelled further, you felt suffocated.

The prison cell was a hollow cube of concrete, one way in, no windows. In there you could have no idea how much time had passed or even if it was night or day. It was totally disorientating by design. Given enough time a person could forget their own name in there. The isolation was total and the stimulation was zero. No sound, no light, no furniture or cloth of any kind. It was all an inmate could do to feel the cool walls, but even they were smooth.

pity, regret, guilt, frustration. The emotions embraced you like a second skin. In the time period of six months, this was your third visit. But this visit felt heavy.

This time... you had come here with a purpose. This time... without the overwhelming urge to see him.

This time with the urge to end this madness for once and all.

It was like this was written in the stars above to occur. your heart felt like someone had put thousands of bricks onto it. You were feeling guilty for what you were about to do.

This was just the weight of the guilt for your next step that would change yours and his life forever..

Maybe for the worst. This needed to be done nonetheless, you needed to overcome this incessant throb in your heart, you wanted it to stop, it wouldn’t.

But you needed to Do this for once, and all you need to end this.

And you will even though it’s not going to end so smoothly.

You knew it wouldn’t. You weren’t hoping for it. Because, after all. You were the reason why he was here in the first place.

You were reason behind your lovers imprisonment. “J-Jungkook. It’s Y/N..” your fingers wrap themselves around the metal bars, the voice from your throat barely managed to escape.

But he heard it.

The culprit turned around to look at you, and your heart skipped a beat, clenching tightly inside your chest. “Y-Y/N! M-My Princess!”

With teary eyes, you watched your lover as he jumped out of the bed and with shaking steps he came closer to the metal bars as much as he could. His long slender fingers wrapped around the bars tightly, you could only see his face barely. But the tattoos on his fingers made you recognize him. The ink on his knuckles being his only signature that could help you identify him in the dark hour.

“Y-Y/N! You’re finally here!” Hearing his voice in a tone so vulnerable made your heart break, you could tell that he was trying to hold back a sob. Jungkook tried his best to at least be able to hold your hands in his but was unable to because of the steel cuffs that held them captive, and the wall of the bars between him and you.

“Y-Yes Jungkook..” you finally look up to see him and your heart almost exploded in surprise. “Jungkook?! You’re cuffed?” To say you were surprised would sum it up. Your eyes widened to see that.

Only silence was your answer in return. Your heart was turning inside of your rib cage. You knew what this meant really well. Gripping on the rusty bars, you looked at him with your eyebrows farrowed and jaw clenched. “Y-You tried to escape,” horror took over you.

jungkook lowered his head, the darkness covering his face. You could only see his dark curly locks. “I-I just m-missed you.” Jungkooks shoulders were shaking, his voice breaking, tears falling. “Look at me jungkook...”

The crying man lifted his head up to look at you with glossy eyes and a red nose. “I-I love you Y/N.... I cant bear to live without you a-anymore. This squared box is starting to feel so suffocating... I want to be with you again Y/N... I can’t live without you..”

His words tugged at your heartstrings. The weight on your heart felt even heavier. He loved you so damn much and you were being so selfish. He killed him for you.

You were the reason.

“Y/N... there’s not a day where I do not shiver from the thoughts of you forgetting about me... or finding someone else. I cry day and night, only in your name... you’re my everything, baby.” Jungkooks gaze was holding so many unsaid emotions in them. His eyes were swimming in longing.

“I-I can’t bear to lose you.” Jungkook confessed, his voice was breaking constantly, coming closer to the bars, he cried. “I love you so damn much, princess. I can do anything to be with you.” The way he was speaking these words was starting to get passionate.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” Jungkook cooed at you, while you cried softly. “No Y/N.. my sweetheart, don’t cry please..”

Seeing you like this broke Jungkooks heart into a million pieces. He wanted to see you happy always,

But with him only.

The way his heart was thumping inside of his chest made it very clear that jungkook’s plan was working. “I-I love you too Jungkook..” the way you called out his name made his eyes almost roll back to head in pleasure. “You’ll wait for me, won’t you, princess.” Jungkook had to be careful with the each word that escaped his mouth, his effect on you couldn’t falter.

He wouldn’t let it..

Waiting for your response was even more frustrating than when he was caught the day for murdering that cop, the handcuffs were the only witness for his crime, in front of you.

“Y-Yes jungkook I will... I’ll always wait for you. I love you.”

Oh... how happy just was he feeling... jungkook wanted to jump upside down. He still had you wrapped around his fingers. “My princess! Fuck I love you so fucking much... no one can love you as much as me.. didn’t I prove that to you?” His tone had transitioned from dark, gloomy to excited like a child getting his favorite food.

“My dad will get me out soon- baby just wait for me will you? I only stayed here just so I could redeem myself- my father has contacted our family’s lawyer.”

The psychotic man chuckled like a maniac. You just gave him a smile, of course- he’s connected. They practically own this country.

“Fuck,” he cursed, licking his bottom lip.

“baby I love you more than anything in this world... and you know it.” Jungkook presses his face against the bars.

You smiled at him again in way that he felt for a moment that he was at the gates of the heaven. Even he actually deserved to burn in the deep, agonizing flames of hell.

“I’ll be out soon Y/N, I promise. Wait for me...”

And you know that he will.

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im-ovulating · 2 months ago

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can i request a yandere izuku x fem reader where he sees her talking to another guy so later in bed he gets realllly possessive

(A/n: Kinktober Day 12/15! 3 more daysssss!!!!! I haven't really dabbled in writing yandere content, so forgive me if it's not the best. Also, it wasn't specified if you wanted a soft or traditional yandere, so I went traditional, hence the warnings. If it is too much for you, Anon, I apologize. Just let me know and I will rewrite it as soft yandere.)

This fic got really dark, really fast. If you are uncomfortable reading about nonconsensual acts and rape (as is commonplace within the yandere scene), this is your first warning. If you read the official warnings below, continue to the story and then get triggered, that is on you, not on me. There is ample warning and a cut-off that you have to click on in order to access the story to keep accidental triggers from happening. Know your limits and curate your own internet experience. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

Word Count: 2,956

Summary- Why are you talking to him? Is Izuku not enough? He'll show you he's enough... more than enough.

Warnings: Yandere Tendencies, Stalking, Izuku Tries to Baby Trap Reader, Possessiveness but Not in A Cute Way, Non-Con and, Once Again- Read At Your Own Risk!!

Age Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Izuku Midoriya x Fem! Reader: His

------------------------

Izuku sits in the same café chair as usual. His eyes flicker up from his laptop screen, his gaze scanning the coffee shop until it lands on you behind the counter. You – the reason he keeps throwing dollar after dollar away on overpriced coffee and pastries day after day. He’s become a regular fairly quickly.

As he continues to type asway on his laptop, he can’t help but let his stare linger a bit longer than casual. It’s not causal, though, is it? He’s completely added a new stop in his morning routine simply to stalk a girl. He may front that his laptop is for work, but really, he’s using it to take notes on everything his darling does.

He would use his tried-and-true notebook, but he’s learned that it’s way too easy for someone to snatch and read off of and he doesn’t need anyone finding out about this… transgression.

He smiles to himself as you laugh with one of your coworkers – a short, older woman with the beginnings of greying in her otherwise midnight colored hair, aka, she’s not a threat. He’s too far away to hear your conversation, but seeing the way you tilt your head back with that gorgeous smile and laugh is enough. For now.

You notice the green haired man again - Izuku. It’s no surprise, he comes here every morning for an hour or two, He’s always working on his laptop; your guess is either college student or remote worker.

He’s cute. The freckles that dot his face soften his otherwise imposing frame – you swear he must be well over six feet of pure muscle. He’s always been kind, though, if not a little odd. He tends to stumble over his words and rant a bit whenever you talk to him, but you think it’s sweet, like a schoolyard crush.

Today, he’s stayed a bit longer, his coffee long gone as he keeps typing away. To you’re knowledge he hasn’t ordered anything to eat in the few hours that he’s been here, so you decide to take the opportunity to have an excuse talk to him.

You make your way over to the display case and slip some gloves on. Reaching in, you grab a cinnamon roll and place it on a small plate before rounding the counter and making your way over to his table in the corner.

“On the house,” you smile softly, setting the plate next to his laptop.

When his head snaps up to look at you, his face starts to turn a light red. Now he really looks like a strawberry.

“You’ve been here for a while without eating anything and I’m not having you pass out from low blood sugar while I’m on the clock,” you joke lightly, seeing the slight confusion on his face.

He lightly shakes his head, as if to snap himself out of something, before he returns your smile. “O-oh, thank you! But you didn’t have to-”

"It’s no problem,” you assure him. “If you need anything else, just let me know," you say with a wave of your hand before returning to the counter.

Izuku watches as you get swept back up into your work. The older woman you were laughing with earlier lightly swatting your arm with a grin as she glances over at you. Based on the way turn your face down with a shy grin, he can only assume she asked about him. With amusement written clearly on his face, Izuku takes a bite of the still-warm pastry; it practically melts in his mouth, and he thinks that, just maybe, the café’s pricing isn’t as overpriced as he thinks.

No – 8 bucks for a coffee is insane.

The next morning is more of the same: Go to the café, watch you, document down anything new about you, eventually have to leave and go to work.

Except it’s not the same. It’s not the same at all. There’s a man leaning against the counter talking to you when Izuku walks in. He freezes in place, needing a second to process that he is, in fact, seeing this. That this man, who’s not even worthy enough to exist in the same room as you, thinks that he can flirt with you. And that his darling is entertaining it.

He nearly snaps right then and there when he sees the man reach out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His hands curl into fists at his side, the skin pulling taut and pale over his knuckles. How dare this man lay his hands on what is rightfully his? He can feel the possessiveness swelling inside of his, rearing its ugly head back and urging him to march over there and rip the stranger’s hand off of you.

But he doesn’t. Not yet.

Instead, he simply turns back around and exits the café, already coming up with a plan to get rid of this... nuisance.

Entering your bedroom that night, you don’t notice the figure sitting on your bed, shrouded in the darkness of the room. You don’t bother turning the light on yet; you’ve had a long day, and the light would only serve to worsen your headache. You snag some clothes from your closet and head into the bathroom, wanting to wash the day away.

As you shower, you can’t help but feel like something is off, but you ignore it. Surely, it’s just your mind taking advantage of the stress and making you paranoid.

Stepping back into your room as you brush your hair, you finally turn the light on.

You let out a startled yelp as you see him. Sat on your bed, with a dried red substance that can only be one thing on his hands, is Izuku. His forearms are on his knees as he lifts his head to meet your gaze; there’s more of the smeared color on his cheek.

No amount of freckles can soften the look on his face as he glares at you with sharp, green eyes. “I saw you with that man today…”

“You know,” he says, standing from the bed with a slow, predatory grace. “I thought we had something, darling. I thought you understood that you are mine and mine alone.”

He starts to walk towards you. Every step forward, you meet with a step back, repeating this until you realize with horror that your back has hit the wall.

“I-Izuku…” You stammer out, pressing yourself further into the drywall as if you can disappear into it if you will it hard enough. “What are- what are you doing in my house?”

It’s a stupid question, really. He’s spelled it out for you already, so you can guess, but some twisted part in your mind wants to hear him say it, to confirm the worst-case scenarios swirling around your thoughts.

Your eyes flick down to the blood on his hands. You have a feeling you know who it came from. “What did you do to him?” You ask, horrified.

“You know what I did. At least, you know the very least of what I did." Izuku answers. "He touched what’s mine, so I had to… teach... him that it’s rude to touch what’s not his.” Izuku reaches up to cup your cheek, ignoring your harsh flinch as he steps even closer, so your chests nearly touch. “I made sure that he would never bother us again, my darling.”

“You’re insane…” your voice wavers barely above a whisper as your eyes well with tears.

Izuku’s expression darkens as he hears the fear and desperation in your voice. He free hand grabs your arm, holding you tightly in place as his eyes narrow dangerously.

“Insane?” he seethes, his face mere inches from yours. “I’m not the insane one here, Y/n. You are, for thinking you could just replace me with some worthless stranger.”

He leans in closer, the intensity in his gaze almost overwhelming. “I’ve given you everything, Y/n. My heart, my soul, my entire being. And this is how you repay me?”

The hand on your cheek caresses you with a twisted tenderness. “I did this for you. To protect you. To show you that no one else can have you; that no one else deserves you,” his voice calms to a plead. “I’ve watched you, studied you, spent ungodly amounts of money on that damn shop’s subpar coffee… and it was all to ensure that I could mold myself into the perfect man for you…”

You’re stomach drops as you process what he just said.

All of these months, you thought he was just a really dedicated regular. Now you know… He was stalking you…

You’re thoughts travel back to how much he writes on that laptop of his and your legs nearly give. He’s been taking notes on you, studying you like a fucking lab rat, seeing what makes you tick so he could manipulate you into falling for him. Oh god… you think you’re gonna be sick.

“You’re insane…” You repeat, your voice is barely audible over your own thundering pulse. “We were never together! You’re a stalker- a- a murderer…” Your head feels funny and the room is starting to spin.

“How dare you!” Izuku snarls, his voice low and menacing. “You know nothing about what I do! It’s all for you. For us, you stupid girl!” He yanks you closer, wrapping his arm around you so you can’t get away. “I’m your protector. Your savior. And you’re going to learn to love me the way I love you – even if I have to break you.”

He tangles on hand in your hair, tugging the still-damp strands to force you to tilt your head back. He leans down, capturing your lips in a forceful kiss.

The tears are free flowing down your face now; sobs rip from your chest as you desperately try to get away. He tightens his grip on you, a dark chuckle rumbling in his chest. “Now, now, my love, there’s no need for all that,” he murmurs into the kiss. “You know you want this just as much as I do.”

You manage to get an arm free and land a harsh slap to his cheek, hoping the shock will be enough for you to get away.

Izuku’s face contorts in a mixture of shock and rage, but he doesn’t let go of you like you were hoping. Instead, he tightens his hold even more, making it hard to breathe. He starts pulling you to bed, making you really panic.

“No! No- please! Please don’t do this, Izuku, please!” You beg, digging your heels into the floor to no avail.

“You’re going to pay for that, Y/n.” he growls, his voice dripping with menace. “You’re going to learn to respect me, to obey me.”

He tosses you onto the bed, following you down as if it’s his rightful place on top of you. His hands are everywhere, tearing at your clothes, pulling them off to expose your skin. “You’re mine. And I’m going to prove it to you, whether you like it or not.”

He all but rips his belt off and grabs your wrists, binding them to the headboard with the leather. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to cum for me. You’re going to scream my name and you’re going to do it with a smile on your face.” He’s pinning you down, his weight crushing you and his erection pressing against your thigh.

Your fighting continues to remain fruitless. You try to kick him but he easily gathers your legs on one arm, shoving your knees towards your chest as his other hand works on undoing his jeans.

You can’t breathe. Your chest is heaving, desperately trying to drag air into your burning lungs but you can’t. The room is spinning even harder, and you can see black spots starting to dance in your vision. You’re still trying to plead with him, but you can’t hear yourself anymore. There’s just a loud, piercing ringing in your ears.

“This is what you wanted, wasn’t it?” He hisses, freeing his cock and lining it up with your entrance. “You wanted to make me jealous so I’d finally snap and take you, didn’t you?”

You barely feel it as you frantically shake your head. “N-no…” you whimper.

With a rough, forceful thrust he fills you. You think you scream out, but you don’t hear it over the ringing in your ears. Your throat feels raw, though, so some sound must’ve come out.

He groans as he hilts, his head dropping to your shoulder as he shifts your legs to wrap around him. He takes a deep breath, and something seems to flip in him. His grip on you loosens just a tad.

“Breathe, darling…” He murmurs. “I need you to breathe…”

You don’t know what caused the switch up, but you know he’s right – you need to breathe. As much as you are terrified for what’s to come, you don’t want to be passed out during it. You want to know every little thing he does to you, so you have that much more to fuel the fires of hatred that are starting to simmer in your chest.

“Breathe with me,” Izuku says, mimicking deep breaths. “two counts in, one out.”

You follow his instructions until you can breathe properly on your own.

“I don’t want to hurt you, love… I just want you to love me the way I love you.” He whispers against your collarbone. “Just give in and I’ll make you feel so good…”

“Fuck you…” you whisper. Now that the ringing has stopped, you can hear how hoarse your voice is from the screaming.

Izuku lets out a long sigh, as if you’re a dog that’s chewed up his shoes one too many times. “We’ll work on that.” He decides.

When he moves, it’s painful. The drag of his cock in your dry cunt creating all the wrong friction. You cry out in discomfort, your legs kicking against the best in a last-ditch effort to get away.

You can feel every slow thrust with excruciating detail.

What’s more horrifying is when you start to feel that friction starts to ease. Each thrust becomes easier and easier as your body betrays you.

The grin that stretches across his face presses into your neck as he peppers it with kisses. “That’s it, give in. I’ll make you feel so, so good darling.”

You shake your head, unable to verbalize anything, too choked with the shame of feeling his cock sliding through your involuntary arousal.

“You just needed to be put in your place, showed who was in charge…” Izuku continues to coo. He lifts up, propping himself up on his forearm as he reaches up to wipe your tears away. “It’s okay to let go. To submit to me…”

He presses a kiss to your lips, this time gentler but still unreciprocated. When he pulls away, he reaches down to rub your clit. The pressure makes your hips kick up into his hand and subsequently into his thrusting. It makes him slam right into your g spot. You cry out in surprise, the pleasured noise echoing through the room to remind you of your downfall.

“Oh, that’s the spot, isn’t it?” Izuku grins again.

"Please... stop..." You sob. He simply pulls you closer by the hips so he can repeatedly guide his cock there again and again. Your wrists pull at the belt, the headboard creaking with the effort, but you’re trapped. Trapped to endure the torture of being violated and of having your body betray you in such a primal manner.

“You’re close, aren’t you, baby?” He pants, thrusting slowly and deep. “You don’t need to answer, I can feel you tightening around me, I know you’re close. I’ve watched you enough to know the signs,” he laughs a little.

“Baby…” he slows into a slow rhythm as he says the word contemplatively. “I like the sound of that…”

He starts up again with renewed vigor. “I think I’m going to fuck a baby into you. Can’t leave me if you’re carrying my child.”

You can’t be bothered to point out how wrong that statement is because you’re too busy spiraling. “No! Nononono- please don’t!” You beg, you’re fight renewing at the thought of being impregnated by your rapist. “Please! Izuku, you can’t do this! You can’t!” you cry out.

“Oh, but I can.” He grunts. “I can, and I will. You’re mine-”

His thumb is still circling your clit and he’s still hammering into you at just the right angle. You can feel your release coming and you’ve never hated the thought of cumming more.

“Please don’t do this-” You try again. “I-I’ll… I’ll do anything! I’ll stop fighting, just please- Please don’t cum inside!”

“Oh, babygirl…” He murmurs, tracing your bottom lip with his finger. “This isn’t a punishment… I would never knock you up as punishment. No… this is an act of love. It’s the start of our family!” His smile is psychotic. As if her truly believes that this is love. That this is anything but assault.

Before you can plead with him more, you are push over the edge, crying out shamefully as you body spasms with tremors. Cutting through the haze of your forced orgasm is the sudden, hot feel of something filling you as Izuku groans out, tipping his head back with gritted teeth as he slams his hips into yours.

It's too late…

When Izuku collapse on top of you, he smiles against your heated skin. His expression a stark contrast to your horrified one. “You’re going to make such a pretty mommy…”

#deku x reader smut #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya x reader smut #deku x reader #deku #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #kinktober 2024

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sphireath-wisp · 4 months ago

Note

Hihi!!! I was just wondering if you could do just little cute scenarios with sae, yoichi, and rin (gn! reader + all individual)

im sorry if this isn't as detailed as you wish but I'm just really craving tooth rotting fluff+ take your time (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

Sypnosis: In the busy hustle and bustle of life, it's sometimes hard to find time to spend together. When there's time, what are the hobbies/little things both of you do together?

Warning: My readers are always morally grey in some way because it's more realistic to me, not proofread

Author's note: Thank you so much for reaching out and giving me this ask! I'll try my best to weave my story together to match your request. I owe my friend a good favour, so I hope you don't mind me adding her BL favourite here. Thank you so much for your understanding ε(´｡•᎑•`)っ 💕

Featuring: Sae Itoshi, Yoichi Isagi, Rin Itoshi x GN! reader

SAE ITOSHI... finds himself most at ease during late-night drives with you in the passenger seat. The windows are down, you're sticking your head out of the car despite his multiple warnings, and he can't stop smiling. His free hand is reaching for you and tugging your shirt down, and his eyes drift to your pouting face in the rearview mirror.

Usually, his late-night drives together with you have no real destination. Acting purely on a whim, Sae always drives you wherever feels right. Sometimes, it's the port right by the beach. Other times, he's driving you to an empty parking lot. Today, he decides to let you have the privilege of choosing where to go.

And when you ultimately decide to go to a playground out of all places, he scoffs but does a U-turn without hesitation.

Is it currently 11 p.m. and does he have a schedule he almost-religiously follows? Yes, and he has a feeling that he won't have enough time to drink his salted kombucha tomorrow morning. Is he tired? Absolutely. Why would he do all of this when he knows damn well he has practice tomorrow?

Hell, he's asking himself that as he opens the car door for you and helps you out.

With a cheeky peck on Sae's cheek, you wash away his thoughts and he returns the favour with a kiss on your forehead. "Let's go get a new car, yeah?" Sae shuts the car door behind you. You're bewildered, to say the least, "I'll let you pick a design this time."

"Look! It's here, it's here!" Your boyfriend, YOICHI ISAGI, geeks out in the manga section of your local bookstore. "Oh yeah, didn't they release figures already? Season 2 is being released soon, right?"

His smile only grows wider when you nod. He's crouching down beside you as you tower over him, leaning down slightly to watch him stare at the various covers. Standing back up on his feet with two in hand, Isagi seems to have reached a slight dilemma.

"Ah... should I get the latest chapter? Or should I..." Oh, isn't that the romance manga you recommended to him? The main couple was cheesy, but it reminded you a lot of how your relationship with Isagi is. Turning your head away, you find yourself stifling a giggle - how cute.

After a moment of deep thought, Isagi sulks. His shoulders slump and he kneels back down, placing both the mangas back on their shelves. Like a defeated puppy, he crouches there for a moment in silence.

"What's up?"

"I can't decide, so it's better if I don't get one or else I'll spend the rest of the day regretting it," He's solemn, your heart clenches when he forces an awkward smile. It's not a big deal, but... "You can borrow my copy y'know, don't be shy."

He perks up. It's a simple gesture, but the simplest things in life have always pleased Isagi the most. With a bashful laugh, he picks out the manga he wanted - he can indulge a little, he decides. "Right, I'm sorry. You didn't need to see how let down I was over something so small." Honestly, Isagi's a little shy. It's only been a few months into the relationship. He wants to respect you and your boundaries.

"I'll get you something in return, thank you."

RIN ITOSHI yelps when he stumbles out of your bedroom to the dimly lit living room of your apartment, sucking back a hiss from the base of his throat when something jabs at his foot. His disappointment only grows when he lifts his foot to see the imprint of a Lego brick on the sole. "What do you think you're doing? At 1 in the morning?" The once groggy Rin Itoshi is now wide awake, meeting your avoidant gaze. As you continue to piece together your Lego set, you mumble, "...couldn't sleep. I usually don't have trouble, but I don't know what's up with me today."

Despite his reluctance, he walks over to you and plops onto the carpet beside you. "Aren't you a little too old for this?" Rin begins while mindlessly piecing bricks together. His back is against your shoulder, partially leaning his weight onto you.

You scoff once he grabs the manual. "You're one to talk," you retort as you pull apart Lego pieces, "In case you haven't realized it, you happen to be playing with my Lego set."

"In case you haven't realized it, I'm helping you, idiot," There's no real malice in his voice. He crosses his legs and straightens his spine, turning to gather the pieces in a pile and redo everything from scratch. You clearly seem to be struggling. He'll never admit it, but he doesn't like the aching gap in his chest when you're not in bed with him.

It's a good excuse in his head. He's simply helping you out so you'll return to his embrace as soon as possible. It's just that. He's totally not enjoying playing with Legos with you - he convinces himself mentally with starry eyes when you both finish the overwhelming set at 2:30 a.m.

"Phew! Now to take it apart!"

"Hell no."

Taglist: @mikmwehehe, @saexy (while you did archive your old account, you are technically still on my list!! Please tell me if you want to get removed and I'll do it asap)

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sports-on-sundays · 1 year ago

Text

people change / CL16 / Part 1

Summary: dad!Charles x French!ex!reader - You wish you could just forget about the relationship. It's hard when you had a son together.

Warnings: 'Y/s/n' means 'your son's name', you are free to imagine the son as whatever age he acts because I leave that unspecified, mention of breaking up/divorce, broken family, censored cussing, getting drunk, toxic relationship, me sucking at writing kids (how do they even act???)

Requested?: No.

Author's Note: This was heavily inspired by the song People Change by for KING & COUNTRY at the end there especially. I listened to it while writing. So you're free to look that up and have a listen. Link to part 2 / Link to part 3

"Hey, sweetie," you say as you buckle your son into the car. "How was your day at school?"

"Fun... But Mama, I didn't know what to do."

"Hm? When didn't you know what to, love?" you ask, concerned.

"Well, we did papers and pictures about our mommies and daddies and our houses and stuff and I didn't know, Mama..."

You stop after he says this, pulling your hands away as they tremble. Your heart, at those words from your son, feels like it's being wrenched out of your chest, and you cough into your arm. "O- Oh, sweetheart..." you clear your throat. "Well, why don't you first draw pictures and write about me and my house, and then you write and draw about your daddy and his house..."

Your son does a pouting face at this. "Mama..." he complains. "Why can't you and Daddy be like other kids' mommies and daddies?"

"Love, I don't think this is the time to be talking about this. Let's just get driving home now." You hate to shut him down, but he's asking too many questions that you just can't answer.

He's asking too many questions that are making you feel too confused and guilty.

"Hey, buddy. What's up?" you smile as you get out of the car to help your son pack his bags into the trunk, and then get in the backseat. You're doing this right outside Charles' house. You're picking him up from his weekend with his dad.

The little boy shrugs as you buckle him in. "I want my grey bag, Mama! Daddy gave me some food for the ride."

"What do you say?"

"Please!" he pouts.

You nod, and give him his bag. Charles is always sure to equip Y/s/n with a bagful of healthy snacks for the hour and forty-five minute drive back home.

The whole ride, Y/s/n is unusually quiet. Even when you try talking to him, he gives short answers and makes no effort to continue the conversation. Which is very unusual from the usually frisky and excitable little boy.

When you get home and go inside, he immediately goes to his room, still not saying anything.

You sigh, feeling worried.

Did...

Did Charles do something?

Even though the two of you separated for big reasons, you've never felt too worried about Y/s/n going to see him every other weekend, except for maybe at the beginning. Over the years, you're pretty sure that Charles has gotten more responsible than how he once was.

"Dinnertime, love!"

Silence.

"Love?"

"I'm not hungry!"

You sigh, the worry sinking deeper. "You should have saved some of your dad's snack for later, then! I made dinner for you!"

Silence. Again.

You walk down the hall and knock on his bedroom door, before gently pushing it open. The little boy is sitting on his red bed. In his hand is his Ferrari hat. He's blankly staring at it.

Oh God no. What did Charles do? What did Charles say? Doesn't he understand the unspoken boundaries about this?

"Y/s/n?" you say gently, sitting down next to him. "What's wrong, sweetie? You know you can tell me. I'm listening."

The boy looks older than he is right now. You feel a sharp pang in your chest as he murmurs, "Why do you and daddy live in different countries? How come I have two houses, two bedrooms... two everything? How come, Mama?"

It takes all you have to not tear up. You wrap your arms tightly around him at this. He leans against you, hugging you back.

"Andre and Alex have a mommy and daddy who live in the same house. How come you and Daddy don't?"

"Y/s/n, it's really complicated, love. But, can I ask... What has got you thinking of all of this, love? What has got this on your mind?" You speak in a very gentle tone, rubbing his back. Obviously, this is upsetting him. Really, though, what kid wouldn't be upset?

Your son looks at you in hesitation. "I'm not allowed to say..."

You feel another pang of worry. "Love, it's okay. You can tell your mama anything."

"But Daddy told me not to."

You swallow nervously. "You're not doing anything wrong by telling me. I'm giving you permission. I can't have you feeling this upset, love. You can tell me anything that's bothering you, even if your father told you not to." Y/s/n is too much of a good kid. You don't know where he gets it from.

You wipe your son's watering eyes, trying to reassure him. He sniffs, before saying, "You won't tell Daddy?"

"Tell Daddy what?"

"What I'm gonna tell you."

You bite your lip. "Of course not, love. I won't tell your daddy."

He nods, before saying, as he starts to really cry, "Daddy cried, Mommy... I wasn't allowed to know but I couldn't sleep because Daddy forgot to read me my story. So I was going in to tell him to snuggle me... because I couldn't sleep. But Daddy was crying..." Y/s/n sniffs, and continues blubbering, "Daddy was talking to someone on the phone and he was really sad... I don't know why Daddy was crying, Mama. He said he was sad because he missed you and me to the person on the phone. Daddy was so sad so I don't know why we don't make Daddy happy and why can't my mommy and daddy be like my friends' mommies and daddies?" He lets out a sob, snuggling into you. You're speechless as your son continues, "I went and gave Daddy a hug because he was sad. He said he missed you. He asked me why I was up and said I was in trouble and said I wasn't allowed to tell you he was sad and crying. He said even daddies cry sometimes," he sniffs and lets out another sob. You hold him tight, eyes wide. "I asked him how come he was sad and he said he didn't know and he loved me and then we went to bed. I don't get it, Mama."

You try not to tremble.

Fighting off tears, because the last thing Y/s/n needs is to see his mom cry on top of it all. Not sad tears, though. Angry tears.

Why can't Charles just let go? He's so possessive and obsessive. F*ck him and his Monaco flat and his boat and his Ferrari and everything f*cking else. Why would he let his son see him so vulnerable. Doesn't he care? F*ck him.

Why can't he just let go?

You walk down the hall of the mall, your son's little hand in yours, heading to the food court because eventually, Y/s/n's complaining about how 'I'm hungryyyyy!' got too annoying, and you gave in.

Suddenly, though, his little hand slips out of yours. You look down at him in confusion, starting to say his name. He starts running away. You're about to go after him, but suddenly freeze when the little boy shouts, "Look, Mama, look! It's Daddy! Daddy! Hi, Daddy! Hiiiii!"

And sure enough, Charles Leclerc stops as soon as he sees his son, a grin spreading across his face. He adjusted his cap to be lower on his forehead, clearly trying to go incognito here. But he bends down, and the moment little Y/s/n reaches Charles, his father scoops him up into his arms, standing up with an, "Auwgh," noise, as if it were really hard for the strong man to pick up his light son. Charles holds him tight, in an embrace, before saying, "What's up, buddy? Where's your mama?" Y/s/n points, and Charles looks up.

Your eyes meet. And everything stops. The voices, the music, the whir of the escalators, the lights, heating, and air conditioning all making their own sounds, the people walking past- everyone else living their own lives disappear.

And it's just you and Charles, eyes locked, staring at each other.

Heartbeats or seconds or minutes, you don't know. You feel a certain electricity that hurts. Shocks you. Maybe Charles likes how it feels though. Maybe he loves that, with his adrenaline seeking lifestyle. Because, after all, he doesn't look away.

But in the same way, you don't either.

Finally, it's your son that breaks the trance you seemed to go into with your ex-husband, by saying suddenly words that stress you out and tear you apart at the same time: "See, Daddy?" He pats his father's cheek, which has a little bit of facial hair. "You don't have to cry anymore... You don't..." Suddenly, he looks a little scared, realizing he wasn't supposed to say that, but finishes softly with, "You don't have to miss Mama anymore, Daddy, because she's right here..."

There's almost a pleading in your son's eyes. A longing. You feel yourself start to tear up, but you strive to hold them back. Y/s/n. He loves us. He loves his parents so much. He just wishes they would love each other.

Charles shakes his head in surprise, stroking Y/s/n's hair, "Buddy, it's okay. Don't worry. I'm okay. I don't-" he falters for just a moment before finishing quickly, glancing to you nervously, "I don't miss Mama anymore. Don't worry."

"But I miss Mama." At this, both of you look at your son in confusion.

"But Y/s/n, Mama is right here," Charles says carefully, taking more steps closer to you. "See? Do you want to go with M-"

"No!" your son suddenly snaps, and says as if it is the most obviously thing on earth, "When I'm with Daddy, I miss Mama. When I'm with Mama, I miss Daddy. I don't wanna miss you guys!"

All the sudden, it's too much for you. All of it. Before Charles can do anything else you say quickly, your voice obviously cracking and your breath shaky, "Charles, can you take him home today? I'm sorry-"

"Of course, Y/n. I-"

You turns, jogging away. You need to get out of there.

But as you run out, you hear Charles call after you, "Y/n! Y/n, wait! Y/n, we're going to talk on the phone tonight, okay? There's things we still need to go over!"

At around 3:00 A.M., Charles calls. While you're worried to answer, you're also relieved. The fact that you're still awake at 3:00 A.M. shows how much anxiety you've been feeling about getting this call from Charles.

When you pick up, you murmur softly, "Hey, Charles."

"Sorry I'm calling at this hour. God. I just had to make sure Y/s/n was sound asleep. I'm, uhm," he pauses to clear his throat awkwardly, and continues in a softer, more delicate voice, "I'm sure Y/s/n told you about the phone call the other weekend..."

"Y- Yeah, he did. What did you do? Did you scare him into not telling me? He was crying," you say, your voice becoming harder and harder as you speak.

"What?! No! I just asked him please not to tell you. That was it. Maybe he was crying because..." Charles trails off.

"Because why?" you snap, although the sinking feeling within tells you exactly why.

"Y/n..." he sighs loudly. "Because our son loves us and doesn't get why... w- we... don't- don't, uhm.... love each other." The facts that he falters so much on that last phrase, that it's so hard for him to get out, sends a pit in your stomach. Of dread, and anger.

And without another hesitation, you just say it. "Charles... you still love me, don't you?"

There's silence over the phone. Sickly, disgusting, terrible silence. The anger rises up in you higher and higher, like a pressure, trying to push you on your tipping point. So finally you snap, probably way too loud, "Charles, what the hell! F*ck you. I hate you, you f*cking asshole. You're too much of a f*cking coward to even say it! Just like you've always been!" Your voice gets louder and louder. "Just like you've always been! Too much of a f*cking coward to admit anything! You tricked me! You had me thinking everything was peaches and cream, but it wasn't! You were being a terrible person and played innocent, and whenever I asked you anything, you did the same exact thing you still do. You just keep silent. Charles, I know you'll never grow, I hate that my son has to see your sorry ass every other weekend, and if I knew it wouldn't break his sweet little heart, I would wish your pathetic silent self would just fall off the face of the earth so I didn't have to ever have to listen to your stupid, pathetic silence ever again."

"Y/n, I-" You hang up. Charles doesn't try to call back.

Years ago.

Charles came in and stumbled into your arms, as if you were the one that needed to take care of him. You were tired, having stayed up with your fussy baby boy nearly all night, with no help, and you wanted to cry. You didn't want Charles to stumble in, drunk, right into your arms, as if he was the one who needed help. No. He was the one causing the problem. He had reeked of alcohol. He didn't get drunk this often, and you knew exactly why he was doing it now, although he'd been too scared while sober to admit it to you. It was the argument you'd had, and his way of coping was going out, getting drunk, and coming home to his wife and baby at three in the morning, wasted. Now, while drunk out of his mind, he was able to murmur, his words slurred tremendously, "Y/n... I'm sorry, love... You should've come with me tonight. I had fun... We could... make up for that argument..." He had a sickly seductive tone in his voice.

You felt rage fill up in you. Did you forget about your son? The son that you and I created together? Did you forget about that? Instead of letting any of that rage escape you, you just brought him to the bedroom and helped him into bed. You left him, walked to the living room, sat down on the couch, and held your aching, tired head, pulling at your hair, as tears escaped your closed eyelids.

Your world was spinning. Everything was wrong.

The argument. You had started it. And yelled at him. About how he was a coward and never told the truth. Even though you loved him. You thought. You must've. You... You had a son together. You yelled at him for telling you he was working when he wasn't. You yelled at him that he wasn't helping you at all and that you were going out of your mind. You said you felt like a single mom because he was never around, never helped, and never tried to. He lied and told you that an event he had mentioned that you were excited for was cancelled because he had found out more things about the event that he didn't want to deal with himself. He was becoming more and more selfish, showing who he really was more and more every single day. It just made you think- what is he doing when he gets drunk? What else is he being dishonest about?

Eventually you stopped loving him. You loved your son much more, so you broke it off. The final tipping point was when you suspected he had cheated, although nothing had ever proved that. But that was when you finally broke it off.

He was heartbroken. He held onto you. No, Y/n, please don't do this. I'll try better. I'll try better. You had told him that he had been saying he'd try better for the past year.

He had cried. Maybe even sobbed. You only saw him sob twice. Once was one time when he was drunk out of his mind, and the other one was that night when you told him you were breaking it off. I guess Y/s/n has seen him sob a third time, though.

He had said to you that he still loved you. You had said if you loved me, you wouldn't have done this. And that was the end of it.

Or so you thought.

You can't believe you're here. You can't believe he convinced you. You set up for your mother to watch Y/s/n while you drive into Monaco and.

Well, yeah. Go to Charles' God-forsaken house. To meet with him. 'Have a talk' as he put it. 'In real life.' So he can 'see your face and expressions.' And 'understand better.'

Charles opens the door. He's wearing a black t-shirt, grey jeans, and has his usual assortment of different bracelets on his wrists. And a disgustingly expensive watch. As you walk into his (beautiful) flat, you see that it hasn't changed much since you left and moved a couple hours closer to home, back in France. Just a little cleaner. But just like how it was when you lived here, there's still a stray toy on the floor here and there. As if reading your mind, he bends down, picking up a few of them, before putting them in a basket in the corner of the room. He runs his hand through his messy, wavy brown hair, looking a little awkward. "Why don't you sit down?" he asks softly, gesturing to the couch by a nod of his head. "Make yourself... comfortable... Uh... I made some cookies. Consider it a peace offering. And I... I really tried to make them good, too. I'm just going to go grab them." And before you can think or react, he's walking out of the room to grab them.

When he returns with the cookies, he sits down next to you, holding the little plate out to you. You hesitantly take one, nibbling off a little bite, nervously glancing to Charles. "It's fine..." you say. In your taste, too sweet (and slightly gooey) but besides that, alright. "But I just want to get this over with, okay? Charles can we just... have this talk? So I can go?"

Your ex husband stared down, before nodding slowly. "Yeah... Of course." He falters, before murmuring, "I love our son just as much as you do. And it hurts me to see him-"

"My God, Charles, shut up. I know what this is about. It's about you being selfish," the bitterness in your voice surprised even yourself, "You're being selfish because for some twisted reason, you still want to be with me, and you're using my son's pain as an excuse. You're just as you've always been- selfish, lying, and making excuses."

"Y/n, no it's not!" he snaps, his eyes pleading. "I- I- I want the best for our son."

"Charles, do you still love me?"

He stares at you. Hesitates. Falters. He inhales a shaky breath, before looking down at his hands in his lap. "All these years I've never dated another woman. All these years the guilt has crushed me."

"Shut up!" you spit. "It's not guilt, Charles, of hurting me your or son. It's guilt because you wouldn't wanted to be with me longer. It's selfish. You're f*cking selfish!"

He practically begs, "Please, babe, just listen-"

"What did you just call me?"

He stares in surprise at what he just said. He swallows. "I'm sorry- It- It just came out..."

You glare, and shout, "You still love me, you dick! I hate you! You- You cheated on me!"

He cuts you off by grabbing your arm suddenly. There's a desperate look in his eyes. "Y/n... No, I didn't... I swear it on my life.. On my job, on everything I love... I would..." You're shocked to watch as a singular tear gently rolls down one of his cheeks. He's holding back more. The salty, warm tear drops right onto your palm. You wipe it off. Charles eyes plead with you as he murmurs, his voice cracking, "I would never cheat on you..."

You stare, trying to form more words, not knowing what to say.

But Charles continues, "I don't know where you got the idea I cheated on you... I know it was hard and I was being..." Suddenly there is guilt and grief openly painted all across his face. "I was being a terrible person... Giving up the most lovely, sweet wife and baby I could've ever asked for... I was young and stupid, Y/n...Y/n... I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I swear I mean it...

"I would do anything for this to work."

Another tear falls.

"Y/n... just listen... I need you to hear me out..."

He sniffs. He seems so broken. Vulnerable. Honest.

"It's all my fault, Y/n. I know. I know. I'm sorry. And I get if you're afraid... I would be, too... but, Y/n... I wish you could just understand that... that...

"Y/n, people change."

Author's Note- Just wanted to say if you guys liked this and want a part two, I'm totally open to writing that! Let me know if you want a part two, and if you have any ideas, shoot! Like should I end this happy? Or not...? And in what way? If no one gives me ideas, I'll just come up with it, but you guys are extremely welcome to let me know!!! Thank you! <3

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