Frightening Love

|| 25 she/they || 18+ content MDNI || || Dark, Sensitive, and Yandere themes || || Requests: Open ||

[bucksfucks]

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[envy-of-the-apple]

Earl Grey & Cucumber

Dark!SatoSuguShoko x reader -Omegaverse AU

word count: 11.2k

Synopsis: Your favorite junior asks if you could find a mate for her pack.

(Warnings: yandere, dark content, manipulation, forced relationships, rape/noncon, claiming bites, a/b/o dynamics, alpha satoru shoko suguru, beta reader)

“A mate?”

You added too much sugar to your coffee. It stings your throat as it goes down.

Shoko sits across from you, sipping on her own drink. You haven’t seen her in almost ten years, but she hasn’t changed her tastes in coffee. Regular black. No cream. No sugar. A habit she picked up from those late-night studying sessions in high school.

“We've been thinking of settling down for a few years now. Starting a family and all that.” She waves her hand dismissively at the waitress, who kindly offers a refill of coffee.

She has changed, however. Taller. Instead of a curt bob, her brown hair is slightly above her chest. The dark circles under her eyes are more prominent than ever, definitely related to the long hospital hours.

You nod in understanding.

“Have you looked around for a mate?” You wonder. It seems impossible to picture Shoko’s pack having any trouble with omegas.

Shoko sets her cup down. You liked the cafe she brought you to. It’s quiet, not too busy. It reminds you of the little nooks and crannies you used to drag her to. At first, you were a little surprised when she reached out after being so quiet for so many years. Now, the nostalgia is slowly leaking through.

“A little here and there.” She admits. “Not seriously, though. The clinic doesn’t leave much room for courting. Suguru’s got his hands full with the temple. Satoru’s well…Satoru.”

You can barely hide your smile at how she rolled her eyes at the mention of her fellow packmate.

“It’s why I wanted to talk to you, actually.” She shifts a little closer. Her eyes are soft from the lack of sleep as she gazes at you. “I heard you’re part of a matchmaking program.”

You nod. She glances away. Shoko almost looks sheepish.

“I was wondering if we’d be able to join.”

A smile stretches across your face.

“Of course! What time do you think you could come in?”

☕︎

You didn’t expect Shoko to present as Alpha.

You two were childhood friends. Being older than her, it was more like you were a babysitter–not that you minded the role. Shoko was a quiet kid even in her younger years. You liked that she often trailed behind you, like your own shadow. It was flattering in its own way. You never had any siblings, so you often regaled her as your younger sister.

You thought she’d be a beta like you. Or maybe even omega. Alpha was the last designation you would’ve ever given a girl like her. Just like you, she had two beta parents–being anything else was close to impossible.

But, looking back, the signs were always there.

The scuffle wasn’t the worst you’d ever seen. Fights are normal, especially for kids around your age. Emotions run high, sometimes. If left unsupervised, children don’t usually have healthy outlets.

Shoko wasn’t a kid you’d ever picture getting into a fight, yet the evidence was clear. It looked worse than it actually was. You can see remnants of dirt clinging to her youthful cheeks from when she took the fall. Her clothes were lightly scraped, as was the skin on her knees. It was nothing a Band-Aid couldn’t fix.

You hadn’t seen what happened. You had been on the other side of the playground when the yelling happened. Shoko barely struggled when you pulled the kids apart. The other girl was crying. Shoko wasn’t. Being the older one, you decided it was best to end the day right then and dragged Shoko home.

The girl was always quiet, but that walk was like talking to stone. She never budged from her clamped lips and tightened fists, no matter how hard you prodded. A part of you understood why. She was probably resigning herself to her parents’ beratement. She didn’t need a lecture from you, too.

Just when you were about to give up completely, she gave in.

“She said she was your friend.” She told you quietly.

“The girl with pigtails?” You asked

Shoko nodded. “She called you her friend, even though you’re mine.”

You glanced down at her hand, tightly clasped on your own.

“I can be both of your friends.” You gently tried to suggest.

She shook her head. Her grip tightens.

“No.” She said with a finality you’ve never seen in a child before. “Only mine.”

☕︎

Despite being well into the modern era, alpha-and-omega matchmaking programs haven’t lost popularity. It’s become a multibillion-dollar industry. Nowadays, instead of being sold off for political power, omegas and alphas can simply go to their local agency to find their mates.

Obviously, betas like you aren’t permitted to join, but you are highly encouraged to become matchmakers. Neutral scents are helpful when it comes to finding alpha-omega pairs. It’s comforting to omegas and non-threatening to alphas. Betas can not only act as matchmakers but also as barriers if things go awry.

You highly doubt that you’d need to be the latter, however, for this pack.

They arrive ten minutes before the official appointment. You knew Shoko had something to do with that because you doubt Satoru ever lost his lazy streak. Having no client, you decide to take them in early.

Satoru’s just as chatty since the days from highschool. He trails behind you as you lead the group to your office, asking about your day and then telling you about his. You didn’t think he’d be a teacher, but he always managed to surprise you.

Suguru is reserved but friendly. He greets you after Satoru’s tight hug, giving one of his own. You heard he now heads a Buddhist temple, though you never considered him the religious type. It’s hard to imagine him in traditional clothes after seeing him in casual wear and a high school uniform for so long.

“Didn’t expect you to be part of a breeding program.” Satoru comments after you’ve shuffled them into your office. He leans in, probably to inhale your scent again. They’ve all done that once or twice. Satoru’s just not as subtle as the other two.

It’s an alpha thing. Omegas and alphas are different from betas. Unlike you, they rely more on pheromones to guide them around the world. He hasn’t seen you in a while; it’s normal to see if your scent has changed.

“We try not to call ourselves that.” You lightly respond, settling behind your office. “Trust me, it’s not as intense. All we do today is look over what you want in a mate—basic preferences. Then I can pair you up with whoever fits best. What you do after is entirely up to you.”

It’s a bad joke. Only Satoru smiles.

You clear your throat.

“So, did you have anything in mind?”

They exchange glances. You, completely used to losing alphas, continue briskly.

“We’ll start with broad strokes,” you tell them. “Obviously, you want a mate who’s open to a pack, right?”

“Yes.” Shoko agrees.

You type it across your keyboard. Alpha packs do a lot better in the program compared to single alphas. Often, your omega clients specifically requested them. You doubted you would have any trouble finding a match for these three.

“Perfect. Any age preference? Younger, older—“

“—older.” Satoru interrupts. Suguru elbows him, but Satoru doesn’t waver. “Definitely older.”

Suguru and Shoko don’t look particularly happy at his intrusion, but nobody objects. You add it to their profile.

“Any particular scents?” You ask.

“Not too sweet,” Suguru says. “Something more neutral.”

Satoru doesn’t look too interested in this topic. “What he says.”

Shoko is more concrete with her answer.

“Earl Grey.”

You try not to react to that, typing it into their profile with little hesitation.

“I think that’s enough for now.” You hurry along. “Do you have any education or work expectations?”

“Not particularly,” Shoko responds. “I think we’re looking more for a homemaker type– someone willing to settle down for pups.”

You had a feeling. Alpha packs are more interested in being providers, caring for their omega mate who is cuddled in a nest. Most omegas feel the same way. It’s a fairly symbiotic relationship.

“What about you?” Satoru asks.

You look up at him.

“Pardon?”

“Are you thinking of settling down? Having kids and all that?” He continues.

“Satoru.” Suguru chastises, but there’s nothing sharp in his voice. Shoko says nothing. Her warm, honey eyes always felt piercing. You always chalked it up to yet another alphan trait.

You shrug, thinking nothing of the question.

“Quit my job for a mate, you mean?” You ask before you shake your head. “I don’t think I could. I think I’d only be able to do it for a specific person, but I don’t think a person like that exists.”

Besides, you love your job. You love helping people find matches and life-long mates. Why would you ever give that up for children?

“But if that person did exist–”

“Satoru.” You interrupt. “We’re looking for a match for you, not for me.”

He huffs, leaning back in his seat, almost like a scolded child.

“Fine.” It almost sounds like a whine. You try not to laugh.

The rest of the appointment proceeds smoothly. Half an hour later, you’re able to gather additional specifications and preferences. Unlike the first few questions, the three are far more lax with their answers. Typically, after the first session, you’re able to put together matches off the top of your head. For whatever reason, these three were far too vague for you to get a clear idea.

“I think I can figure things out from here.” You tell them when the hour is up. “Would you be ready to meet your potential matches in a week or so?”

Suguru genuinely looks surprised. “I didn’t realize it would be so quick.”

“It’s more for trial than anything else.” You respond. “Don’t feel pressured if you aren’t ready.”

“That’s fine,” Shoko tells you. “Will you be with us when we meet them?”

“Of course not.” You assure. “I’ll just give you their profile. Whatever happens next is entirely up to you.”

You expect her to look relieved. She says nothing. None of them do.

“In any case, it was really nice seeing you three again!” You say when you lead them out to the door. “I wonder why we never met up after high school?”

Satoru frowns as he returns your hug. “It’s ‘cuz you practically ran away from us, remember?”

You wouldn’t necessarily call graduating and moving to college ‘running away’. Still, you laugh.

“I’ll try not to do that from now on.” You tell him. “You still have my number, right?”

Satoru’s still whining as you walk them through shiny glass doors. Suguru offers to buy you lunch, to which you decline. You had another client in a few minutes.

“One more thing before you go.” You call out just before they leave. “I’m a little curious: what made you decide to join the program?”

The three look at eachother. A secret conversation only alphas could ever have.

“We got tired of waiting,” Suguru answers.

Later, you realize that isn’t much of an answer.

☕︎

The three weren’t always this close. You could distinctly remember a time Shoko hated the other two.

Your community was mostly betas, with a small number of omegas. Until then, Shoko lived her school life as the sole alpha for miles around. Being her senior, you constantly worried about her. Alphas weren’t betas. There would always be a missing link between the two of you, no matter how hard you tried to accommodate her. As much as Shoko assured you otherwise, you knew a part of her would always feel that void.

And then, Gojo and Geto came along.

Both alphas. Both in the same year as Shoko. They exemplified the look of Alpha. Both of them towered well over the rest of their peers, already well over six feet despite their ages. When they smiled, you could see glimpses of silvery-white fangs. Being the only alphas in the entire grade, they were extremely interested in Shoko. You were ecstatic, happy to see your friend finally make friends with others.

Shoko was less than enthusiastic.

You didn’t understand why she wasn’t perceptive towards them. When they tried to extend their friendship, she raised her hackles, and her eyes would darken. She was well past her days getting into fights on the playground, but you were sure she was close to snapping on certain occasions.

Gojo and Geto continued to hover around her, despite her hostility. Since you were her friend, they hovered around you, too.

You tried to be a bridge for the three. Shoko hardly ever rejected your invitations to hang out. When the other two tagged along, that fact never changed, but she never seemed happy about it. She’d latch onto your arm, baring her teeth when the other two got a bit too close for her liking. You stopped initiating those hangouts as her clinginess often got far too debilitating.

“You need to be more social.” You finally told her.

“No.” She responded stiffly, her voice muffled by your shoulder.

You two sat on the school rooftop underneath a sunny, cloudless sky. Even on days like these, it was sparsely populated. Most of the student body preferred to have their lunches in the cafeteria or the courtyard.

“They’re being nice.” You urged. “They’re being so nice, and I can’t be your only friend forever.”

“Why not?” She asked.

You rolled your eyes, jostling her ever so slightly.

“I just can’t.” You insisted because you have bigger dreams than being stuck in a tiny town, you know, that has no future. There was a life outside of this place.

Also, you didn’t like being Shoko’s only friend. There’s a reason why she’s so protective of you–possessive at times. It’s an alpha thing: they can’t help but take and keep. Her possessiveness was terrible in her younger years, but at least now she’s a tiny bit better about you having other people to hang out with. Still, she refuses to become closer to anyone but you. Even in middle school, she barely had a handful of acquaintances she was quick to abandon in favor of you. It’s not healthy to be so isolated like that. You worried for her.

She’s about to say something, but then something sour crossed over her face. Shoko hunched over as she melded herself further into your side. You abandoned your chastising and gathered her up in your arms.

Shoko’s ruts were severe. She was almost always out of school those days. Even after her rut passed, she took days to recover. She was weakened and intensely more irritable in the aftermath. The only good part of her ruts was that in the days after, her scent became stronger, even to your weak betan nose. Shoko's scent reminded you of summer turning into fall. A low hill. A grassy plain. A dessert just after a large rainfall. Unlike the few alphas you knew of, her scent wasn't overly invasive. It was clean, and low, and rumbling. 

For Shoko, certain vices eased the agony. Nicotine helped, but you never liked the way the smell of cigarettes clung to her body. You tried to help the best you could, letting her cuddle you in quiet places away from prying eyes, rubbing her scent all over you to self-soothe.

But there was a limit a beta could do.

Her volatile ruts were yet another reason to be closer to Geto and Gojo. Alpha pheremones help other alphas. Just being in proximity to another would be enough to steady herself.

Shoko knew this, and yet she remained stubborn.

“You don’t get it,” she whispered after her episode passed. Her eyes were shut as she leaned further into your space.

“You can’t smell them like I can.”

You tilted your head, about to prod further, when Shoko opened her eyes. Her lips twitched into a frown. Less than a heartbeat later, the rooftop door flung open just as a giddy Gojo called out, ‘Found you!’ with a satisfied Geto trailing just behind him.

Shoko barely held back a growl as you pulled her off her feet to greet the other two, quickly forgetting her words. No matter how resistant she was, your determination to get her closer to the other two never faltered.

But sometimes, even you wondered if they were right for each other.

You never meant to eavesdrop. You and Shoko always walked home together; it’s the only reason you made your way to her homeroom, wondering what the hold-up was. She never made you wait. If anything, you always arrived after her.

It looked like a fight, but why would Gojo and Geto smile if they were fighting?

Shoko sat at her desk. She barely packed. You saw notepads and pencils scattered across her space. Gojo sat backwards on the desk right in front of her, hands crossed on the chair as they stared eachother down. Geto stood a little way away.

They were already in mid-conversation. You barely caught the tail-end of it.

“-Who cares who marked who first?” Gojo said, an overdramatic pout arched over his lips.

“You should really learn how to share, Ieiri.” Geto continued because back then, they weren’t on a first-name basis yet. “It’d be better for all of us if you did.”

“You know that’s not natural, right?” Shoko responded; her honey eyes were no longer rich and warm. “You should give up.”

“Shouldn’t you, too, then?” Geto wondered.

The conversation ended the second Shoko noticed you. She stood up in a rush, barely shoving her things in her backpack before she marched up to you and dragged you away with a harsh grip on your arm. You could barely wave to your other two underclassmen before you were carted away by her.

You never asked, abandoning the curiosity as soon as you saw the expression on her face. You always wondered what would have happened if you had arrived just a bit later.

☕︎

Utahime wrinkles her nose before she enters your apartment.

“You smell like him.” She gripes.

You tilt your head before remembering there’s only one alpha in the world that made her face twist up like that.

Satoru always had a habit of scenting you in high school. You may not be able to smell it, but other omegas and alphas can. You scolding him while he sulked on his desk like a puppy wasn’t an uncommon sight. Obviously, he hadn’t broken the habit.

“I’ll have to talk to him about that.” You frown. “I don’t think omegas will like the idea of him scenting a beta.”

The omega perks up. “Wait, he’s joined the program?”

“All three of them, actually.” You tell her as you both settle down in your kitchen. “I managed to set them up with an omega just a couple of days ago.”

Your omega client seemed absolutely thrilled when you told him. Alpha packs are growing more uncommon by the day, so he was right to be excited about it. You hope it went well. He matched most of the pack's wants, so you don’t think it will end in complete shambles.

Utahime still looks unconvinced. “I didn’t think they went for omegas.”

You understood what she meant. In high school, those three never seemed interested in omegas. Shoko was friendly with Utahime, but Satoru always picked on her, and Suguru occasionally joined in. At first, you assumed it was a ‘pulling on the pigtails of the girl you liked’ situation, but their teasing often felt hostile.

“Maybe they finally grew up.” You tell her. “Do you ever wonder who the pack leader is? I never had the chance to ask them, but I always wondered.”

Asking about that kind of thing is a bit rude, especially if you weren’t a potential omega. You’ve seen other packs before, and it’s typically pretty easy to tell who the pack leader is. It’s usually the one who’s always biting the others down, keeping them in place. Shoko, Suguru, and Satoru aren’t like that. They work so well-together, it gets hard to tell who’s really calling the shots.

Utahime snorts. “It’s obviously Gojo.”

“Obviously?” You echo.

“His scent is the strongest. That’s usually what determines it,” She explains, not sounding too interested. “I bet he whined and whined until the other two gave in.”

You felt bad for laughing, but you could honestly imagine that.

“I’m really surprised Shoko’s still with them.” You continue. “I know they’re all pack, but she’s so different compared to the other two.”

Satoru was the most outgoing, but Suguru had his own quirks. Shoko was the odd one out, you always felt.

Utahime shrugs, rifling through her bag. “Maybe they have more in common with each other than you realize.”

For a bit, the topic of the three is dropped. You let Utahime ramble about her work and how her students are doing as she sets out her newest creation: a chocolate raspberry cake.

Omegas have certain quirks when their heat approaches. Utahime bakes–something you take full advantage of. You would feel bad about begging her to bring over her desserts all the time, but Utahime never seemed to mind your desperation. Like most omegas, Utahime's scent was slightly stronger. Now, even your weak betan nose could catch a whiff of her scent in the air. She smelled gentle, like flowers dancing in the wind on the side of a grassy mountain. 

“This is incredible.” You moan when you take another bite of chocolate goodness. It practically melts on your tongue. “Can you be my mate? I’d make you happy, I swear.”

She looks away. “Shut up.” There’s no heat in her voice.

“Have you considered it, though?” You wonder, inhaling another slice. “Joining the program, I mean. I can think of a few alphas that might interest you.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t think my type is in the program, and besides.” Her face turns disgusted. “Now that Gojo’s in it, I’m not taking any chances.”

You laugh. “I’d make sure to never pair you up, I promise!”

She huffs again. Your voice quietens as you remember something.

“Hey, I was wondering…what do I smell like again?”

She frowns. “Why do betas always ask that? You need to get better noses.”

“Just remind me.”

She rolls her eyes, but she acquiesces.

“You smell the same as always,” she tells you. “Like Earl Grey & Cucumbers.”

By the end of the week, you finally get the call you were waiting for.

You pick up on the second ring and immediately press the speaker button.

“Hiro!” You trill, making yourself comfortable on the sofa. “How have you been?”

Your omega client responds in kind. You make small talk until you eventually bring it up.

“So,” you ask, “how did the date go?”

You expect a barrage of excitement and blabbering. Hiro is a sweet guy. You could tell he would mesh well with those three. Inwardly, you congratulate yourself for making such a good match.

“It went okay.” His answer stills.

“Okay?” You repeat.

Just okay? You expect something far more than such a simple answer.

At your silence, Hiro continues.

“Maybe okay isn’t the best word. I liked them but…” he trails off. “I don’t think they liked me very much.”

“Huh,” you say, tapping your fingers. “What did they say exactly?”

“Not much, I mean, they were nice. I just don’t think our personalities meshed well. They were all so quiet, I felt like I was doing most of the talking.”

“Quiet? Even Satoru?”

“I don’t even think he spoke,” Hiro confesses.

You do not think the word quiet appeared in Gojo’s dictionary. He constantly chattered, unable to let the world forget he existed for hardly a moment. It was a major reason you paired Hiro with them. He is just as bubbly. You thought he and Satoru would work really well together.

“Wow,” you say after a while. “I’m sorry, I really thought things would work out between you four.”

“It’s fine,” Hiro responds, just as disappointed. “Plenty more fish in the sea, right?”

You once again tell Hiro your apologies before hanging up. Weird, you usually had more trouble appealing to your omega clients compared to your alpha ones. Maybe this would be a lot harder than you initially assumed.

☕︎

Halfway through your second year, Geto joined the newspaper club.

You were ecstatic when he told you. Shoko couldn’t participate in any early-school activities due to her poor sleep habits, and you doubt Gojo would’ve enjoyed them. Having somebody you knew do an activity you enjoyed was really exciting. It was something you and he bonded over, much to Shoko’s chagrin.

When you had club projects together, it was common to go over to one or the other’s houses. You liked Geto’s house. It wasn’t so large, not like Gojo’s sprawling mansion you’d had the misfortune of getting lost in once or twice. Geto’s home was vibrant and warm, filled with splashes of color and properly decorated furniture.

His parents were nice too. You liked the snacks they brought out, more than happy to indulge in the intricate sweets they prepared.

His parents were a proper alpha-omega pair. His alphan-father was boisterous and hearty in a way that reminded you of Gojo. His voice was loud, and his laugh practically rang through the halls.

His omegan-father was a bit on the meek side. You could count the number of times he’d directly spoken to you. His voice was soft–a complete contrast to his mate. He often resigned himself to quietly nodding along with whatever his husband rambled on. You could count the number of times he’d directly even looked at you.

Once, when Geto was still rummaging upstairs for something or another, you wondered out loud how they met. The alpha was more than happy to tell you the story of how he met his omega. You learned that they were childhood friends before the omega decided to part ways for a bit. Eventually, they reunited and got mated soon after.

“You waited for ten years?” You asked in awe. “Did you ever consider moving on?”

The alpha laughed before shaking his head, “Never.” He told you with a smile. “When alphas find their mate, nothing can keep them away, not even time.”

Geto’s other father stood in the kitchen, dutifully wiping down a counter. He didn’t react when his husband told you about their love story. You could only assume he was used to it.

“That’s beautiful.” You gushed.

There’s a secret smile on the alpha’s lips before Geto marches downstairs, leading you out the door with a glare directed at his father.

“Ignore him,” Geto told you as you trekked to school. “He tells that story to every person he can.” There’s a roll of his eyes, and he failed to hide his embarrassment.

“I think it’s sweet.” You kindly told him as he averted his gaze. “I don’t think I could wait ten years for someone like that.”

Geto considered you for a moment.

“I don’t think I could, either.” He finally admitted. “At the very least, I would get impatient by the end of it.”

You thought you were about to agree when your phone beeped. You glanced at the notification, and your heart skipped a beat.

Takahashi<3: I’m free after school:)

You barely hid your smile. Geto didn’t miss your sudden giddiness as you typed away on your phone.

“Did something happen?” He asked.

You shook your head and placed your phone back into your pocket.

“I think I have a date later.” You told him, oblivious to the twitch on his lips.

“A date?” Geto echoed. You cheerfully nodded.

You liked Takahashi since the start of the school year. He was in your homeroom, and you were already close acquaintances. You wanted to get closer to him, but Shoko often thwarted your plans. She made her distaste in Takahashi extremely clear. You tried not to get too upset by her attitude. She was protective of you and probably thought you could do better. It’s what friends did.

“Maybe we should keep this from Shoko.” You told Geto right before the school gates. “She doesn’t really approve of the guy.”

Geto hummed. “I’m not surprised.”

The day passed on as it normally would. You trudged through your sludge of classes and waited for school to finally be over. When it did, you practically jumped from your seat, barely waving off your friends as you rushed out of the school gates.

Takahashi wasn’t waiting for you, but you didn’t mind. You could take some time to calm your nerves.

You waited.

Five minutes.

Ten minutes.

You sent him a text.

Eighteen minutes.

You sent another.

Students filtered past you, eager to abandon their homework in favor of arcades and hanging out with their friends. You remained where you were, feeling your excitement drain the longer Takahashi refused to show his face.

After nearly an hour of waiting, you gave up. He wasn’t coming. You wanted to call him, but you can’t bring yourself to. Embarrassment crept up your shoulders and neck. You felt so stupid for even waiting around for this long.

They caught up to you when you were halfway home, glumly dragging your feet across the pavement. Gojo’s long arm draped over your shoulders as he lightly jostled you in an effort to catch your attention.

“Where are you going?” He cheerfully asked. You frowned.

“Home, obviously.” You told him before glancing further up ahead.

Geto gave a lazy wave. Shoko said nothing. You expected her to be a bit less receptive towards Gojo for putting his hands on you.

She had no reaction.

“So, you’re doing nothing, right?” Gojo asked. Glee radiated from his body. “We should go to the movies!”

“That sounds fun.” Geto agreed, before he gave you a pointed look. “As long as you didn’t have anything planned?”

You appreciated that he wanted to give you an out, but it was for nothing. You planned to spend the entire day with Takahashi. Your afternoon remained empty now that he unceremoniously ghosted you.

“That sounds fun,” You said, “but I’m not in the mood to–”

“I’m fine with anything as long as it isn’t that weird Earthworm movie Gojo kept talking about.” Shoko piped in as she stepped closer.

“But it looks so funny!” Gojo whined as he tugged you in the other direction. The other two followed right behind him. “You should give it a chance.”

Despite your reluctance, you were dragged off to the movies regardless. You couldn’t remember the film. The popcorn tasted buttery and salty in your mouth. Gojo kept disrupting you to talk shit about every character that popped onscreen. You weren’t allowed to go home until hours later, when the three made it their mission to walk you home. By that time, you’d forgotten about your botched date. You were far more interested in how the three had suddenly grown close.

It was as if they’d always been friends. Their conversations with each other felt natural, almost right. Even their bickering no longer held Shoko’s usual hostility. Perhaps you’d been wrong to try to force it. They just needed to find each other in their own way.

That day might not have ended the way you wanted it to, but you were still happy.

The very next day, Takahashi completely ignored you. He no longer smiled or greeted you. He seemed perfectly happy pretending you never existed in the first place.

If you were being honest, you did not mind in the slightest. Over time, you forgot about the guy who ditched you, and life continued on as always.

☕︎

Part of you expects the luxury.

When Suguru extended the invite, you knew he was never one to pull his punches. When he plans something, he goes all out. He adores dramatics and flair. This time was no exception.

The restaurant exuded extravagance the moment you stepped through crystal-clear glass doors. The warm air soothed the goosebumps gathering on your arms– a complete contrast to the chilly wind lingering just outside. The floors and ceilings were perfectly polished to the point where you could almost see your entire reflection. The spiral columns were perfect ivory, perfectly matching the black-and-white theme throughout the floor. Your heels clicked against the tiles as your hostess led you through the restaurant. The sounds of clinking utensils and glassware filtered through your ears.

They were already seated, three pairs of eyes clinging to your figure as you made their entrance. Satoru was more than happy to greet you first. His eyes simmer, but his smile barely falters as you get closer.

“What?” You ask.

Satoru wrinkles his nose.

“You smell like alpha.”

“It’s probably because I work with other alphas,” you say, “You know half of my clients are alphas, right?”

“Ignore him.” Suguru cuts in before Satoru continues to badger you. “He skipped his afternoon nap, so he’s a bit fussy this evening.”

You wave it off. Truthfully, you were used to alphas getting mad over another alpha’s scent. It’s happened to a couple of your omega clients, as well as to you. It’s instinct for alphas to flare up when they smell other alphas. Biological. They can’t help it. You actually expected Shoko to be more hostile because of it, yet as you glanced over, she barely even blinked. She must’ve gotten over her scent possession days from high school.

You adjust yourself in your seat as the waitress strolls over. Food and drinks are ordered. You listen to Satoru whine about work while the other two chastise him. You promised yourself you wouldn’t drink too much, but barely half an hour in, and you’re already tipsy. You know this was supposed to be a get-together, a high-school reunion of sorts. Work was absolutely not to be discussed, but you couldn’t help getting yourself worked up over it. They might’ve been your old high school friends, but they were also the most difficult clients you’ve ever had.

Shoko notices first.

“Just say it.” She eyes you.

“Say what?” You tilt your head.

“You’re mad, right?” Satoru pipes in, absolutely delighted when you frown in his direction. “It’s all over your face.”

“I’m not mad.”

“Oh, it’s that bad, hm?” Suguru hums, and you roll your eyes.

“I’m not mad.” You repeat, before wincing. “I’m…frustrated, I think. You guys are giving me a run for my money.”

After Hiro’s clear rejection, you paired a couple more omegas with the three of them. Each one ended in the same way. You would get a call from a disappointed omega telling you it didn’t really work out. Later that same day, three alphas would innocently seat themselves in your office–ready for another match.

You don’t even know what you’re even mad about. They’re allowed to make rejections; that’s their right. For whatever reason, it oddly felt like they were messing with you.

You could expect that type of behavior from Satoru, maybe even Suguru, but Shoko? You could never see her do something like that for the fun of it.

(Or maybe you were clinging to her high school demeanor–the sweet, quiet girl who used to trail behind you with soft brown eyes and a muted smile)

“At this point, I think you might be doing this on purpose.” Your lips curl up into a smile to indicate how silly you think that is. It’s clearly a joke. Low-hanging fruit, you guide them to so they can quell your worries.

None of them refute it. Eventually, Satoru starts rambling about yet another incident involving the students at his school. Suguru chimes in with his thoughts every now and then. Shoko just berates her packmates for being such nuisances. The topic is carefully avoided for the rest of the night.

With delicious and expensive food carefully stashed into your stomach, the four of you decide to call it a night. When you reveal you took the cab here, the three are quick to invite you into their own car. It doesn’t take you too long to give in.

When you step out into the cold, Shoko offers her jacket. She used to do that back in middle school; smother you with her clothes any time she could. She’d take your clothes too, sometimes. You used to find skirts and shirts missing every time she came over. She never stopped, not even when you scolded her for it over and over again. ‘An alpha thing,’ your parents once told you when you complained, ‘you need to be more considerate of her nature. She can’t help herself. It’s instinct.’.

When she does it now, you don’t think it has anything to do with her instincts. She grew out of it when high school came around. Today, Shoko wraps her jacket around you to protect you from the blistering cold as you follow them outside.

The car belongs to Satoru. You’ve never seen it before in your life, but you can instantly tell. It’s Satoru’s in the way that it’s bright red and sleek. He starts the car with a low rumble. You climb in the back, feeling your seat hum as the car purrs to life.

Suguru settles next to you while Shoko gets into the passenger seat. Your stomach flips when you start to buckle yourself in. You start to remember all the times Satoru nearly killed you with his driving skills back when he first got his license. He’d been so excited back then, constantly offering rides to your house, the arcade, and even to places where there was no need for a car. His need to show off was an ever-present part of his personality back then.

“Did he ever learn to drive properly?” You can’t help lean over and whisper in Suguru’s ear.

He laughs while Satoru puffs from somewhere in front of you.

“I heard that,” Satoru says, “My driving was never that bad. You’re so dramatic.”

It was much worse than bad, but you decided not to bully him about it. Surprisingly, Satoru drives a lot nicer than you expect. He maintains a mostly steady pace, not at all like the sharp halts and breaks his younger self seemed to like so much.

He catches your eye in the rearview mirror.

“See?” He tells you with a proud smile.

You roll your eyes, unamused.

“Honestly, I’d take highschool you’s driving over Utahime’s,” you say, watching the city nightlife as the car speeds up, “she insists on driving fifteen miles below the speed limit. It takes an hour to get anywhere.”

“Utahime?” Suguru echoes, and you remember he probably hadn’t seen her since high school.

“How is she?” Shoko asks.

“She’s doing well.” You respond.

You’re about to offer a reunion before you clamp the urge down. She wasn’t their friend, after all. If anything, she barely tolerated them. Anytime your juniors would crash your hangouts, Utahime’s face would instantly pinch up. For your sake, she remained mostly civil.

“Is she mated?” Shoko asks.

You eye her. It’s a weird question to ask, but you give in anyway, not really seeing the harm.

“No, not that I know of,” you admit, “she’s not a big fan of the matchmaker program, either.”

You’ve tried to convince her numerous times, but Utahime refused to budge. She’d get oddly offended anytime you even broached the topic, so you’ve decided to avoid it.

For a split second, you catch Shoko and Suguru looking at eachother with dark eyes. Secret conversations only alphas could have. You bet their scent was dipping in a way only they could sniff out. A part of you always wondered it was like, but you never wondered for long. It’s not like you’d ever get to experience it.

Were they thinking of Utahime as a potential mate? You didn’t want to burst their bubble, but you highly doubt she’d be happy about that.

“We keep talking about our love lives, but what about you?” Suguru suddenly asks.

You glance at him. “My love life?” You ask.

“Met anyone special lately?” Satoru prods from the front.

You shake your head, watching the scenery pass you by. You remembered them being curious about your dating life back in high school, constantly hounding you the moment you got close to another beta who wasn’t them. It was only natural. Alphas and omegas found lifetime partners in a very different way compared to betas. To you, the idea of talking and going on dates to get to know someone is natural. To alphas, it must sound like an alien concept.

“I’ve got my hands too full of you three to even bother meeting someone.” You tell them with a teasing lilt in your voice before it fades. “Besides, meeting another beta is a lot harder than meeting up with an omega. Everything’s less instinctual, I think.”

“Why would you only restrict yourself to betas?” Shoko asks.

The alcohol was getting to you. Your lips are a bit looser than usual. Your words are cruder. You roll your eyes.

“Who else is there? An omega?” Your voice dipped into a sardonic sneer like you couldn’t even stomach the thought. “An alpha?”

You laugh at the joke. They don’t join in. You don’t notice the darkened tension in the car as you continue to stare out the window, not minding the silence. The evening tired you out. You stifle a yawn, and your eyes drift closed.

Something sharp grazed your neck.

Your eyes snap open. The car has stopped. You glance over to Suguru.

He smiles. There’s a respectful distance between the two of you. He remains a seat apart.

“Did I startle you?” He genuinely asks. “Sorry, I was trying to wake you up.”

“Oh.” You say, calming down your racing heartbeat. “No, it’s okay. Are we here?”

You raise up, trying to peek at the window. Your apartment complex lies just a little way away.

“Home sweet home!” Satoru cheers, his glee having fully returned.

“We’ll walk you up,” Shoko suggests.

“No.” You fumble with your seatbelt. “You’ve done so much already. Thanks for the night. It was fun.”

“It was.” Suguru agrees. “We should do it again, sometime.”

You eye him again. He still hasn’t moved. You resist the urge to touch your neck.

“Yeah,” you say, trying not to make your voice sound so clipped. “That would be great.”

You step out into the cool night air, trying to ignore the three pairs of eyes that followed you across the sidewalk and up the stairs. As soon as you got out of their eyesight, you finally felt like you could breathe again.

Hours later, when you’ve showered and settled into bed, you finally decide to tell yourself there was nothing. You had been half-asleep. You probably dreamed it. You’ve known those three your entire lives; there was no way they could do something like that.

And yet, a part of you could feel it on your neck. You reach up to lightly press on the patch of skin. There was nothing, but a part of you had that feeling memorized. You don’t think you could ever forget that feeling.

Teeth rasping right over your scent gland.

☕︎

You never truly saw Shoko as an alpha until your last year of high school.

You never had the chance to. You’d grown up with her by your side. You saw her every day. You didn’t notice her slowly surpassing you in height. You didn’t notice the way her teeth grew sharper and sharper. To you, she remained as Shoko: your tiny little follower.

In your head, you always put her in a different category than Satoru and Suguru. They were your friends, but they were also alphas. Shoko was your friend. There was a difference, though you weren’t sure what the difference was.

The incident happened sometime toward the end of the school year. By then, the three had formed a true pack. All the bad blood they shared in their first year had completely scattered by the second. They matched eachother well, moving as one coordinated unit. When the four of you hung out, you felt like you were the odd one out. It made you wonder if this was how Shoko felt when you forced her to hang out with your friends, an alpha surrounded by betas.

You weren’t upset at her for finding a friend group she matched with, regardless of how little you fit in. She deserved that.

You appreciated that she tried to incorporate you into her circle, too.

“Are you ignoring us?” Suguru asked.

You gave him a look, already exasperated.

“What are you talking about?” You frowned. “You literally asked me to check your essay. That’s what I’m doing.” You gestured to the paper on your desk.

Technically, it wasn’t your desk. This wasn’t your classroom. The rest of the second year had already left for the day, preferring to spend their time at home or at clubs. These three remained the odd ones out, still lounging on their desks hours after the bell rang.

Since Shoko had this bad habit of refusing to let you walk home alone, you were often forced to sit with them, waiting around until they decided to leave.

You sat just behind Suguru and Shoko. Suguru’s elbows rested on the chair’s back as he watched you work. Shoko mirrored him. Satoru abruptly left a few minutes ago, most likely to get a snack from the vending machine to satisfy his sweet tooth. The only evidence of his presence was his sunglasses and his backpack, hung over his chair.

“I’m starting to think you just gave this to me so I won’t get bored.” You complained. “Your writing’s perfect as always. What am I even looking for?”

“I’m sure you’ll critique it well,” Suguru responded, as an amused smile spread across his lips. “I trust your judgment.”

You rolled your eyes but cast your gaze down on the paper, hoping to find something to nitpick. You knew that was an impossible feat. These three were at the top of their class for a reason.

“I give up.” You told him, handing his paper back. “It’s perfect. I see a 100 in your near future. Stop fishing for compliments.”

He laughed, but he accepted his essay back with fingers ever so gently brushing over yours.

“Besides, I’m not really good at grading.” You continued. “Utahime’s the literature expert.”

“I don’t think she’ll be too happy being asked for a favor like this.” Suguru countered as he tucked away his assignment. His nimble fingers ran across his backpack and tugged the zip shut.

You clicked your tongue. “That’s because you and Satoru are constantly picking on her.”

Your eyes slide to Shoko.

“She likes you at least.” You tell her with a teasing smile.

In that, you mean the two girls are civil to each other. By that time, you gave up on Utahime’s ability to cozy up to these guys. They’re a lost cause–the few omegas in your school already steer clear of them. It’s clear they aren’t looking for anyone to complete their pack.

“I don’t think it’s like that.” She refuted.

You opened your mouth to respond, but then their expressions shifted.

Their hackles raised. They sat up straighter. Alert. You’ve never seen them act like that before. Your smile faded, pulled away from your lips by their sudden behavior.

There’s a soft thump at the classroom entrance. Your eyes landed on Satoru’s body, leaning against the door. His breaths were ragged, shoulders hunched over.

You stood up, making your way towards him. Shoko called your name, but you didn’t stop. You hesitantly reached for your junior. Concern settled at the back of your throat. Was he sick or something? He seemed okay when he left just a few minutes ago.

“Satoru?” You called, watching his shoulders stiffen. “Is everything okay–”

You saw his eyes. There was a flash of blue and teeth before he lunged at you.

Suguru stepped in before he could make contact.

There was a clatter of desks as Suguru pushed his friend to the floor and restrained him. You stumbled back, nearly tripping over on your feet, before your back collided with Shoko. She held you securely in her arms as you watched the struggle.

You couldn’t even recognize your friend as he breathed heavily, still pinned underneath your other friend. His eyes hadn’t left yours. They were clouded, unfocused.

Satoru’s scent was often muted to your beta nose. Sometimes, when he got particularly worked up, you caught a whiff of something deep and almost fruity in the air.

Today, the clear scent of Satoru invaded your senses.

Rut, your brain supplied even when your body remained helpless to do anything but watch. Satoru had gone into rut.

“Should–” Your voice shook. You swallowed down your nerves. “Should we get a teacher–”

Shoko called your name again. This time, you listened.

Your eyes drifted up to meet her own. She stared straight at Satoru’s writhing body.

“You need to go. Now.”

You don’t recognize her tone. You’ve never heard such a voice come from her before. It was deep, almost guttural. Unapologetically alpha.

It was why you obeyed. Silently, you packed up your stuff, putting away your assignments and pens, shoving them into your bag. You avoided the scene of the two alphas calming down their packmate as you fled the classroom. You heard Satoru’s grunts through the hall. They followed you, rang through your ears the entire walk home.

The next day, Satoru wasn’t at school. When he returned the day after, the incident remained unspoken. The three refused to acknowledge it. You did the same, following in their footsteps. It was easier to pretend everything was fine. You wanted to forget the vision of Satoru staring up at you with clouded eyes. You wanted to forget Suguru’s strength as he restrained his friend. You wanted to forget what you heard in Shoko’s voice.

It was easier to pretend.

Around that time, you looked into colleges out of town.

☕︎

You think it’s time you cut Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko off.

Not personally. It’s the first time in a while that the four of you have seen each other since high school. Nostalgia for the good old days clouds your vision. You couldn’t do that to them or to yourself.

But clearly, your services were not working out for them. The many matches and omegas you have set up always ended in rejection. There wasn’t a single omega they liked, and they often had vague reasons for why. Getting a clear answer was like pulling teeth. Maybe they couldn’t be honest with you because of your past with them.

It was not fair to those three. Maybe you were wrong to offer your services. You should have recommended one of your fellow matchmakers instead. A part of you will always feel guilty for jumping the gun like that, far too excited to help your friends find love than being logical.

You’d cut them off professionally. As for personally, you would still keep in touch here and there. Just not as often. You were gradually declining their invitations to hang out. You texted them less and less. You wouldn’t cut them off, but you were slowly starting to remember why you drifted away from those three in the first place.

You agonized over your decision for days, wondering how to break it to them.

When they extend the offer for drinks at their place, you decide to bite the bullet.

One rainy evening, you step out of your car, blinking away the drizzle as you stare up at the mansion. It was large enough to pack ten families into the estate. You knew Satoru’s family was well off, but it always breaks your brain when you try to understand how well off. Satoru offhandedly mentioned he liked the property for how demure it was compared to his childhood home. The front door puts your entire apartment to shame.

You barely wait a second after you knock. The door pulls open, and Shoko invites you in with a smile on her face. You return her hug, feeling her soft cashmere sweater underneath your fingers. She’d been smoking recently. The scent of it was faint but still noticeable in the air. A part of you wonders if you can chastise her as you did back when you two were kids.

You thank her. Thunder rumbles in the distance as you step inside. The rain and wind picked up, swirling angrily outside and pelting the windows.

“How long do you think the rain will last?” You ask her as she leads you further inside.

There’s another boom of thunder and lightning. Shoko glances down at you thoughtfully.

“We’ll definitely be stuck in here for a while.” She tells you.

You nod along. Hopefully, the rain lets up by the time you go home.

Unfortunately for you, the rain poured throughout the evening. Mother Nature refused to let up for even a moment, going on and on.

Compared to the chill of the rain, the house provided bright lights and warmth. The storm raging outside was nothing compared to the three chattering about their daily lives. Throughout it all, you smiled and talked when necessary. You didn’t know if they noticed, but you were anxious, your entire body twinged with nerves. Despite the wine swirling in your cup, you refused to take a single drop. It’s best to have this conversation sober.

You wait until there’s a lull in the conversation. You take a deep breath.

“So, I was thinking about transferring you guys to another matchmaker,” you say. “But I want to hear your thoughts first.”

They don’t seem necessarily surprised by your declaration. Satoru adjusts himself on the couch. He props his chin on his hand as he studies you. His sunglasses slide down the bridge of his nose. Pretty sapphire eyes stare unwaveringly at you.

“Transfer us?” He echoes. “I thought we were your favorite clients.”

You try to match his lazy grin, but it comes out stilted and wobbly.

“I think it’d be best for you all.” You avert your gaze, fiddling with the cup, almost grateful to have something to keep your fingers busy. It was an expensive-looking cup. When the wine glass caught the light at just the right angle, it sparkled. Translucent glass turned iridescent.

“It’s not fair for me to keep you guys on like this for months,” you continue. “Every omega I’ve matched with you three always ends in rejection. Maybe you’d have better luck with someone else?”

You huff out a laugh.

“At this point, I’m starting to think you don’t want to meet omegas.”

You don’t need to have heightened senses of an alpha to know that was the wrong thing to say.

Immediately, the evening's quiet atmosphere turned heavy and daunting. You felt it in your shoulders as something invisible almost pinned you to the sofa.

Satoru’s smile almost turns feral.

“You’re right.” Shoko says.

You can’t read her expression. Her lips are pulled into a thin line. You think you like the lipstick shade the wears tonight. It compliments her tone well.

You squint at her. A pit forms in your stomach.

“What?”

“We don’t want an omega.” Suguru finishes for her. “And after meeting so many, I’ve never been certain of anything more. We don’t want an omega, we want you. We always have.”

He keeps his tone softing, almost coaxing, like you’re some wild animal. Despite the gentleness of his voice, his words cut deep into your soul. You’re shaking your head before you realize what you were doing.

“I don’t understand.” You repeat his words over and over in your head as you lift yourself from your seat. “I–I don’t understand why–”

“C’mon, you couldn’t have been that oblivious, right?” Satoru slips into the spot next to you. A long arm rests across your shoulders, keeping you in place. “We made things so obvious in high-school. Pretty sure Shoko was pining ever since elementary.”

You wait for Shoko to refute the claim. She doesn’t. Even now, you’re thinking everything they’re telling you is some type of sick joke–something alphas tell to unsuspecting betas to laugh at.

“I’m a beta.” You state the obvious. “You are all alphas. You can’t–you shouldn’t want me–”

“I don’t care.” Shoko says as she stares at you with pretty eyes the color of warm honey. “I never have.”

Satoru hums in agreement. He leans into your side, nuzzling his face into your neck. When he’s close like this, the smell of his scent is stronger. He smells like a Buddhist temple tucked away in the highest mountain peaks, unreachable to all. The wind howls and whisks past ice and rock. The air is freezing and thin, almost suffocating.

You move when he gets uncomfortably close to your nape, right where your scent gland is.

You throw his arm off your shoulders, standing up straight. You keep your eyes on the ground, unwilling to look at any of them. You don’t think you’d be able to look at them for a long time.

“I don’t want to listen to any of this anymore.” You hear yourself speak.

“You three are drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying.” You step away from the living room. Your movements are robotic. Stiled. Your body is kept on autopilot as your brain tries to keep up with what just happened. You head for the door.

“Sleep it off. We can talk about this later.”

You never reach the exit.

A hand grabs your wrist, keeping you in place. You turn back to see Suguru’s empty expression. His purple eyes are dark. He gives a smile. It looks hollow. Fake. Plastic.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you, “I just…I don’t think I can wait anymore.”

The words feel familiar. A conversation the two of you had a decade ago.

You open your mouth to ask when his lips swallow yours.

It’s utterly possessive in nature. Suguru’s scent envelopes you whole as he kisses you. He smells like what lurks underneath the roaring sea. You feel like you’re drowning, trapped in underwater caves where your ears pop from the immense pressure of the unwavering ocean.

Your hands press against his chest, urging him off. Even then, he only releases you when he’s had his fill. You stumble back, looking at his reddened lips and dark eyes. He’s breathing heavily, slightly hunched over like he’s ready to pounce. His eyes are wide and completely blown out.

You don’t think you’re looking at a person anymore.

You’re looking at a predator.

“Yeah.” It’s something between a growl and a laugh. “I don’t think I can wait any longer for this.”

Your words are cut off by a scream–your scream. There’s a harsh grip on your wrist before you’re being dragged back to the living room and haphazardly thrown onto the couch. Satoru’s hands keep you down as you struggle fruitlessly against his arms. He laughs somewhere above you as your vision twists and turns in mindless panic.

Satoru’s kiss is a lot more violent. He’s messy, smearing his scent all over your neck, your scent glands, eager to claim. His sharp teeth are more than happy to explore your lips. When he reluctantly pulls away in satisfaction, your lips are left in bloody tatters.

“I don’t think I can wait anymore, either.” Satoru agrees with his pack mate. “I’m surprised you were the one who broke first, Suguru. What happened to ‘waiting ‘till everyone’s ready’ and all that bullshit? So desperate.”

Fingers play with the edge of your shirt as Suguru scoffs. “Shut up.”

“Stop.” You’ve never heard your voice sound like this before. “Don’t–don’t–”

“Enough.”

The two freeze. So do you. Something blankets over your body.

Calming pheremones, the last piece of your brain supplies, but who would…?

Shoko’s face enters your vision. You blink helplessly at her.

Her expression is serene and calm as she studies your body. Her hand reaches out, gently caressing your face and tracing the length of your jawline. You feel the scrape of freshly manicured fingers.

On omegas, alpha pheremones help them become more receptive towards their alphan mates. It calms them, makes them feel closer to their chosen mate, and helps the process move along.

On betas, however, alpha pheremones cross wires. You weren’t built to be receptive. It clouds your vision, making your thoughts hazy. The panic remains even as your body slows down.

“Did they scare you?” She asks, voice gentle and dripping with faux innocence.

You can only manage a weak whine. She smiles and leans down to place a delicate kiss on your feverish temple.

“It’s my fault.” The worst part is how honest she sounds. “I should have told you back in high school. Maybe if I had, you wouldn’t have left, and maybe things would’ve been different…” Her voice trails off, and there’s this faraway look in her eyes.

“I meant what I said.” Her eyes focus on you again. “I don’t care that you’re a beta, but I don’t think we can treat you like a beta…not if we want you to understand that you belong with us.”

You look into her eyes, right underneath the bubbling warm honey. You think you see it then. Something rotten that festered there for at least a decade before it climbed its way to the surface. For a moment, you wonder how you hadn’t seen this in high school. You wonder how she tricked you, coerced you into becoming her friend despite the dark depths she held so closely to her heart.

And then, you understand she hadn’t hidden this from you at all.

Until now, you hadn’t seen her as alpha.

“I love you,” Shoko tells you earnestly, brushing away the tears cascading down your face. Then her voice hardens, and she isn’t talking to you anymore.

“I make the first bite.”

Satoru and Suguru don’t argue. Why would they? To alphas, the pack leader’s word is law.

Her kiss is gentle. She’s slow and careful as she carefully glides her lips and tongue against your own. She’s careful of her teeth, savoring your shuddering mouth as she swallows your cries and pleas.

You hate how familiar her scent is. Shoko is the Earth that the mountain rests on, where the oceans rock. She was everything you’ve ever known, and yet there was so much left to uncover. You just didn’t think you could do that before losing yourself.

Someone tugs down at your pants. Your eyes widen, and your panic builds up all over again. Shoko hushes you. Her lips trail to the edge of your jaw.

“He just wants to taste. Don’t mind him.” She tells you as Satoru tugs your pants down your sluggish legs. His fingers itch with eagerness as he squeezes the plush of your thighs.

“Don’t worry.” Shoko continues as Satoru practically rips your panties apart. “We won’t knot you tonight. We know you aren’t ready for that.”

“Fuck.” Satoru groans as he spreads your legs. He leans down to nuzzle your pussy, nose bumping at your clit. “You smell even stronger down here. ‘Can never get enough of your scent, I just wanna drown in it.”

“Who’s the desperate one, now?” Suguru goads as his own fingers explore what’s underneath your shirt. He grabs a fistful of your chest before squeezing. Your back arches up from his movement. He smiles.

Satoru ignores him and buries his face completely into your pussy. His tongue flicks out, eagerly lapping up at your hole. His movements are oddly stilted, almost unsure, mostly driven by instinct rather than anything else. Of course, he wouldn’t have any real sexual experience. Unlike betas, alphas and omegas mate for life.

His eagerness largely makes up for his lack of technique. Within moments, your body responds to him, urged on by his touches even though your mind is clinging on to the last semblance of sanity you have left.

“I love it.” His voice is almost a sob, strangely broken and muffled as his tongue drives deeper into your hole, hoping to drink up the essence of you. “I love this. I love you. I love you so much. I’m so glad we have you again.” His hands reach up to keep your trembling thighs away from his face, opening up more of yourself to his eager mouth.

“Satoru.” You hated how heedy your voice sounded. Your core clenched at the intrusion of him tongue-fucking your sensitive pussy, muscles contracting like they wanted nothing more but to keep him inside and milk him for all he’s worth. Your eyes squeezed shut as he pulled out to nibble on your clit.

“Please–please don’t–I don’t think I can–”

“I know, baby.” He coos from somewhere underneath you. “It hurts, right? I can make it all better, I promise. Just let go, baby. You can do it, I know you can.”

Encouraged by Suguru playing with your tits and the constant pressure of Satoru right at your cunt, you can’t put it off any longer. Shoko licks a stripe across your neck, and you’re gushing all over Satoru’s face as your pussy cums over and over again. Fingers dig into your ass cheeks, keeping your hips from lifting up as Satoru wrings out every last drop you have. He doesn’t stop until you collapse, exhausted underneath the staggering weight of your orgasm.

With bleary eyes, you watch as he rises from your throbbing pussy. His lips are still shiny. He never breaks his gaze from you as he licks his lips, savoring each drop.

Suguru takes his place between your trembling thighs. There’s a hiss of a zipper. Your eyes get impossibly wider as his cock pops out from underneath his briefs. It’s already an angry, bright red.

You don’t fight this time, not when Shoko’s pheremones are already starting to drown you again. You watch as Suguru’s cock aligns itself to your battered pussy. The tip taps on your swollen clit as he rocks himself through your plush lips, once, twice, thrice, until his cock finds your hole.

You hate the way his eyes glaze over. He looks down at you with complete adoration.

“I love you.” He tells you. “I can’t wait until you love us, too.”

Shoko’s teeth find your neck at the same time he bottoms out. The pain of the claiming bite somehow overrides the fullness you feel as Suguru ruts into you over and over again, completely giving into instinct.

With that, you are completely and utterly claimed as pack.

[angelamajiki]

sweet things need time to grow

yandere! superman x reader

word count: 8.5k

cw: kidnapping, prolonged captivity, stockholm syndrome, dubcon, emotional manipulation, gaslighting, infantilization, kissing, fingering, inappropriate use of Clark’s super senses

Clinging to the illusion of quiet domesticity was the only thing that seemed to ground you these days. You often consider that, given your circumstances, things could be much, much worse for you. Clark could have easily kept you out in the barn with the rest of the farm animals, especially with the way you acted when he first took you home. But Clark was patient and kind, excruciatingly so. He chose to tame you, not break you. 

Clark saw your initial fuss and upset as nothing more than growing pains; he understood that your transition would be hard on you. While you saw yourself as a wild, ferocious animal hellbent on breaking out of your cage, Clark only ever saw you as untamable as the feral kittens he used to pick up off the side of the road when he was younger. You weren’t used to the kind of affection he would give you. That’s okay, it’s not your fault. Once he could manage to get you to put your claws away, you’d see how nice it would be to all curled up in a loving, warm lap at home instead of surviving out there all on your own. A little love and attention from the right person would set you straight in no time. 

Getting you home was the easy part. It was the kicking and thrashing that were the hardest for him to work through. He was fine with the shouting and the insults, mostly. (You just didn’t know him well enough to hit him where it really hurts, yet.) But physically restraining you during your outbursts proved to be a challenge not of his strength, but rather of his ability to keep good on his word to never hurt you. 

Roughing you up with even a minuscule amount of his power would, one, get you to stop trying to throw a punch or kick at him every time he walked in the room, and two, would scare you beyond straight into submission with him. Killing two birds with one stone was the easy route, but he wasn’t interested in the fast results. He wanted to build something he could guarantee would last between the two of you. Fear would not be the foundation of your good behavior.  

So, Clark seemed content to let you tire yourself out – that’s what frustrated you the most. Any attempt to antagonize him was met with gentle patience and a tired “that’s not very nice to say, honey.” Any mad dash escape attempt out the door once he came home from work was met with his very solid forearm, herding you back into the house like you were one of his cows that refused to turn in at the end of the night. Even your hardest kicks were caught with no effort as he knocked you off balance into his arms, scolding you with a gentle “careful, you’ll hurt yourself like that.” 

Even when he treated you with such tender love and care, you didn’t trust any part of his lover boy charm. Despite his status as your captor, he was still a gentleman at heart. Clark told you he loved you at least four times a day – once when he woke you up in the morning, once when he would leave for work, once when he would come home, and one more time for good measure before he tucked you in at night. It was like he was afraid you were going to forget if he didn’t remind you every chance he got. You vowed never to return the favor. 

He never peeked when you changed. His hands never wandered when he hugged you or when you would finally settle into his arms at night. He liked to kiss you often, even if it was just to your forehead or the back of your hand. Even when he begged for a little peck and nothing more, he knew a kiss on the lips was more than off limits. He knew your boundaries well, even if he pushed on them sometimes.

Letting your guard down was not an option. Each morning he left for work, you’d stew on a new plan to make him slip up. You refused to trust his self-proclaimed good nature. You were hellbent on finding any reason to hate him, any cracks in his boy-scout facade, and show him he wasn’t as good as he claimed to be. One day, you’d anger him enough to show you the real him. 

But all your fight seemed to sizzle out the night he revealed himself. Granted, it was an accident –he wanted Clark Kent to do all the wooing first before introducing you to Superman. But when he felt your steadied heartbeat and slow breaths in the quiet of the house on the flight home from his latest fight, he assumed you were asleep upstairs and not resting peacefully on the couch in the den. 

He was always so quiet when he came back in the middle of the night after a long fight, never waking you up until he slid into bed next to you. You never asked why he would be gone suddenly at night, and he would never give you an explanation. Clark could tell under your rowdy facade that you were still skittish, still too frightened to push too many boundaries too soon. You could pretend you knew exactly what he was capable of so long as it happened within the house. To you, you’d much rather live in the fantasies limited by your own mind about what he was doing rather than learning a much more sinister truth. 

You always kept to yourself like that, always guarded with any emotion that wasn’t white-hot anger. Despite Clark’s gentle reassurance, you refused to let him into anything soft or inviting. But even in your righteous fury, you couldn’t help but feel the anxiety pulling at you when Clark didn’t come home for the night. Or the next day. It wasn’t like him to be distant, let alone be gone from the house entirely. Even if it was late, he always came home at the end of the day.

The idea that he could just up and abandon you out in the middle of the miles of endless, rolling fields all alone was something you never even considered before. You thought you would be comforted by finally being left alone, but his absence suddenly became much more horrifying than his unyielding attention and affection. 

Which is how you found yourself sleeping out in the den, falling into a shallow sleep after watching out the windows for any sign of life besides the animals, which Clark would have put away in the barn if he were here. You never ventured into the den alone; it felt too much like Clark’s space, especially when he wasn’t in it. But desperation was clawing at you, the cold truth that Clark really did just leave you locked in there to die seemed more real with every passing minute he didn’t walk through those doors. 

You didn’t miss a beat when you heard the first of several locks click open when it finally hit 3 AM, feeling relieved that you woke up to find him in the doorway rather than waking to the sun rising on another day Clark did not show up for. Despite never questioning him before, you were ready to grill him on both sides to find out just who the hell he thought he was to leave you for so long without a word. Your relief was short-lived when you didn’t see Clark walk in, but Superman, who had to duck under the doorway to fit inside the house. 

His shock was just as palpable as yours before his small sigh broke the tension. He closed the door behind him and locked it from top to bottom, just the way Clark would. The man of steel had no use for common house locks, and when he turned to look at you, all you could see was a bashful Clark with a nervous hand on the back of his neck. 

“Aw, shucks. Guess the cat’s out of the bag.” 

That night was the final nail in your coffin for your fight. Any hope for escape was crushed with each step under his red boots as he carried you back up to his bed, gently scolding you for falling asleep on the couch. Clark had graduated from being a crazy man to an insane god, even when he took his cape off and crawled back into bed in his pajamas. It didn’t matter how fast you ran or how far you got; Superman would already be there before you could even consider what direction you would escape in. The idea that you would ever leave the farm again never crossed your mind after the sun rose on the new day. 

Despite his absolute confidence in your inability to run away, he wanted you to adjust to life inside the house before introducing you to the rest of the farm. It was where you were the safest. Even though Clark could sense your restlessness, he was insistent that you could get all the fresh air you needed by an open window. Every time you pressed him about going outside, he would leave you with nothing but a, “Soon, honey. It’s still early for you.” 

Your acceptance of the situation, though, was not good enough for Clark. Having you there wasn’t enough; he wanted a willing participant, much to your distress. Your anger had sizzled out into pure fear and depression. He wasn’t too concerned as you began to retreat inward, hiding yourself from him in new ways. You even kept your tears hidden from him, waiting until he was all the way in Metropolis before letting yourself fall apart. His heart broke when he heard you crying all on your own, wanting nothing more than to rush home and sweep you up into his arms. 

But Clark was quick to remind himself that going slow and steady would win the race to your heart. You’d open up to him eventually. This was just a step in the right direction. Now that he knew his kitten had accepted her new home, he needed to figure out how to get her to stop running under the bed and learn to play with him. He needed to earn your trust.

Clark tried to pry you open in different ways, showing you that trust was a two-way street in the Kent household. If you gave a little, you could get a lot with him. He could admit he was trying to bait you into some harmless affection, a big ask for you, who barely tolerated sharing the same bed as him. He thought it was only fair to finally offer you something big in return – outside time. 

Clark coaxed you into a cuddling session outside on the porch swing, wanting to watch the last sunset of summer together before the cold months rolled in. He was half-expecting you to bolt as soon as he let go of your hand, even if you knew better than to think you could outrun him. Some primal instincts could override your logic and have you take what looked like an opportunity to escape. He only hoped that you would be on your best behavior in an attempt to prolong your reward. 

But what Clark wasn’t expecting to see was your utter despair at the wide open space of the fields. He thought you would welcome the change of scenery, even if you saw it as a chance to escape. He held you close to his chest, hoping to soothe the anxiety he could feel radiating off of you as you both took in the last bits of sunlight. 

The idea that the house was the tallest thing for tens of miles deeply unsettled you. There wasn’t a lick of civilization besides the house and the barn, no matter what direction you looked in. There wasn’t even a car anywhere in sight. When you stared up at the ceiling next to Clark in bed later that night and realized the only thing you could hear for miles was his quiet breaths, cabin fever seemed much more preferable to prairie madness.

The initial turmoil nearly killed you from the inside out. Two things couldn’t be true at once, not under Clark’s roof. You didn’t want to accept that for a kidnapping by Superman, you were under the quite literal best possible circumstances. You didn’t even want to accept the idea that there could be good circumstances for your situation. You didn’t want to accept the idea that there was good in him. 

But it was very hard not to see that now that you’ve seen the real him. A superpowered alien from space, considered to be the strongest force on the planet Earth and possibly the universe, was holding you captive, yet he had given you all the choice in the world, even if it didn’t feel like it. He didn’t have to let you adjust on your terms. He didn’t have to meet your pathetic attempts at rebellion with reassurance. Hell, as his captive, he didn’t even have to keep you in the house, warm and well-fed.  

Clark’s gentleness became even more unnerving when you understood his true strength. His affection remained tender and chaste even when he tells you he loves you in ways that make the heat rush to your face. His patience never wavers, even when you still have outbursts of panic and frustration when the idea of forever with him seems all too real. 

His choices in restraint speak much louder than any of the powers he has. 

You realized, too, that you had a power in choice. Clark never forced you to do anything you didn’t want to do, especially not in the bedroom. Sure, he made it clear that he wanted you to sleep in his bed and that a little innocent affection every now and then wasn’t going to totally kill your pride. But for as much as the situation seemed to call for it, sex was the biggest taboo in the house. That was a conversation you’ve yet to have, but you felt somewhat assured after the first few months that he was unwilling to make big moves unless you were, too. But, he still made the small decision on his own. 

You ate what he cooked, you wore what he dressed you in, and you relished in what entertainment he gifted you. You never complained. It’s okay, he understood. The situation at first was too jarring for you; you had no choice but to trust, or rather yield to, him with everything. Asking for your input initially would have been too big a slap in your face when faced with the loss of your freedom. You slowly realized that it wasn’t that you were going unheard, but rather that you were simply going along with Clark’s flow. 

Your choices came slowly, unsure and afraid with every request. Testing the boundaries seemed easy in theory, but the fear of finding out that your opinion actually was worthless to him scared you the most. If he said no to the small stuff, why would he listen to you when it came to something important? 

Dinner wasn’t exactly important, but you were tired of eating breakfast. Breakfast for breakfast, brunch, and breakfast for dinner – you were decidedly over breakfast outside of breakfast. He liked to cook for you, said it made him feel good knowing he was taking the very best possible care of you. You were just grateful Clark hadn’t tried to force you into some demented version of a housewife for him. But when he came in for the night, holding another basket of eggs from the hens, you couldn’t hold your tongue. 

“Clark?” 

His head whipped from where he was standing in the kitchen to stare at you – you rarely spoke unless spoken to nowadays. And you definitely did not come down before dinner unless he called you. If he had it his way, you’d be waiting for him with a kiss the moment he came inside and would quietly pad into the kitchen after him. All in due time. 

“Yes, honey?” He offers gently, approaching you as if you were a cornered animal. 

He couldn’t hide how pleased he was, even if he wanted to. You could practically see every tooth in his mouth with how wide his grin was. He was glowing at your unprompted attention, even if you were only offering crumbs. 

You felt your voice dying in your throat as he stood in front of you, having to crane your neck up to see his adoring eyes and stupid dimple. 

“I, um, just wanted to know what was for dinner.” 

You hated how small you sounded.

His hands came up to your arms to rub gently up and down as he listened, trying to soothe the subtle shaking he felt from you. His poor girl, being so brave and coming down on her own to ask him something.

“Breakfast for dinner, sweetpea. Some of the hens had a late start, I’d hate for the eggs to go to waste.” He commented, rubbing small circles into your shoulders with his thumbs. He relished the rare moments he could stare shamelessly up close. 

He knew you wanted something different; breakfast had never been your favorite, even before you knew him. But, Clark was insistent on pushing you to ask for your wants; he wanted you to learn that he could be trusted. Sure, he could approach you and ask you all day long about what you wanted, as if he didn’t already know everything about you. But he wanted you to approach him, to come to him when you felt in need. He wanted you to learn that he could be trusted to care for you in the right way.

Maybe not tonight, he thought. Clark could see you thinking, see the gears in your head turning about whether or not you would be brave enough to challenge him on something as simple as dinner. Coming down and even asking him was a good enough start in his mind; it’s okay if you didn’t go all the way the first time.

“Could we…” Your confidence almost died in your throat when you saw his eyes sparkle at your unprompted input. Maybe he had been waiting for the right moment to strike you down emotionally. “I mean, aren’t you tired of breakfast?” You mumbled, barely able to get the nerve to raise your voice above a whisper. His stare was still just as piercing as you looked him in the eye now. “I’m sure whatever you make will be great.” 

Praising him was a dirty trick. Even if he thought he was reserved with his desperation, it was clear to see how eager he was for it. It was silent for a beat before he chuckled with a big smile and pulled you in for a tight hug, lifting you to his height. 

“Sure thing, honey. All you have to do is ask.” 

He had to fight the urge to say “good girl” as if you were a dog who learned a new trick.

Even graduating from something as simple as dinner took a lot of your courage to muster up. For a while, you wouldn’t even request a specific meal, but rather ask for “something new” every now and again. Despite trying to test his boundaries, you still kept the ball in his court. It was a full month before you finally made your first real request, quietly asking him if he would make pot roast again on a particularly chilly morning in bed together. He had to admit, you were learning how to get him when he was at his most vulnerable with you. 

Slowly, but surely, vague dinner requests graduated into skimming Ma’s old cookbooks for inspiration and sending him out with a curated grocery list. Food was one thing, but asking for something material was an even harder wall to knock down. He liked to spoil you and bring surprises home often, but nothing made him happier than the first time you asked him to bring you a particular book. 

“Only if you read it to me.” He teased, light-hearted and empty of conviction. 

Clark melted on the spot when you actually agreed before retreating upstairs as he was leaving for work one morning. He hadn’t been serious, but how could he deny himself when you already said yes? You spent your second night down in the den with him, curled up by the fire, quietly reading as the two of you shared a blanket. 

Clark never told you no to anything, not when you felt like you had to sweet-talk him every time. He didn’t want to discourage you from reaching for him. He was prepared for some ridiculous requests in the future – he was sure you were still testing boundaries – but what he wasn’t prepared for was your brattiness to come back so soon. And he couldn’t say he didn’t like it. 

Requests became demands, expectations. If you were really going to be stuck here forever with no possible chance for escape, you deserved whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted. You beamed with pride when you thought he wasn’t looking, finally feeling like you had some control over your circumstances, or rather, feeling like you had some control over Clark. Clark was just happy to see more of your personality come back to you. You were working your way through your fear of him, all on your own.

You still had your moments; you didn’t let him forget that you were here against your will, no matter how much free rein you had over him and the house. But your outbursts were few and far between now, lessening in intensity each time. Your grasp on your anger was slipping; you didn’t want to let go completely. The last shreds of your dignity were hanging on by the idea that you still rejected him in the ways that counted, despite his best efforts. He could keep you here physically, but he would not have you emotionally. Complete submission felt like it would be the death of you, no matter how much it entices you with each passing day. 

More and more of yourself started coming back to you. Long-forgotten hobbies reignited their spark once you peeled through every piece of media in the house about five times over. You had to do /something/ with your time besides read and watch the DVDs Clark accumulated for you. You needed to feel alive on your own, not spending your time without Clark, just waiting for him to come home from work on weekdays or come in from the farm work on weekends. You had to do something for you. 

Baking seemed an easy enough outlet. You liked sweets, and Ma’s cookbooks provided more than enough recipes for you to try. Clark was hesitant to let you into the kitchen, only allowing you to work under supervision for a time. While he was sure you had complete acceptance of never leaving the farm, he didn’t want you to get any bright ideas with the knives in the kitchen. But you wanted this to be your time, not an activity he could use to bond with you. 

Clark finally agreed to leave you alone in the kitchen only when he was on the farm and not in Metropolis. As long as he could see you through the window, that was good enough for him. Baking alone gave you the sense of agency you hadn’t realized you were sorely missing. As pathetic as it felt, you finally felt a sense of accomplishment, a sense of identity that wasn’t living and breathing for Clark. 

In these quiet moments in the kitchen, you could allow your thoughts to wander. You were desperate for other things to do, other ways to feel useful, other ways to feel happy. You were finding ways to mold an identity that could exist in your new environment, whether Clark was there or not. Learning to make very limited choices for yourself in the house with Clark’s permission was one thing. Doing things by yourself and only for yourself was another thing to relearn entirely. 

It made you yearn for things you hadn’t allowed yourself to yearn for out of sheer necessity and survival. You were lonely. You were bitter. And yet, you couldn’t find it in yourself anymore to place the blame on Clark. He was every bit of human warmth and affection you found yourself dying to have, yet you were the one who kept him at arm’s length. You were the one who refused to let him in when he always had his heart and soul on display for you. You were the one who believed life on the farm was lonely, yet Clark was only ever a step or two behind you, waiting, watching. 

You yearned for companionship, for love, for affection. All of these things were in your reach, but you just couldn’t seem to grasp them. Even Clark could see the conflict in you slowly melting away. You stopped flinching at his touch, you didn’t push him away when he leaned in for a kiss on the cheek, you didn’t cower when he pulled the covers over the two of you and held you in the quiet hours of the night. 

Now, he realized, was the time to give you the push he knew you needed. 

You were baking quietly in the kitchen again. It was still early in the day, summer was heating up quickly, and you both agreed to beat the heat with an early start. But Clark was still out there by noon, now shirtless as he continued his work. Your apple pie was almost done baking in the oven by now, a request you begrudgingly accepted from Clark in exchange for unsupervised kitchen time the next time he flew out, allowing you to finish the whipped cream you were planning to top it off with. 

You spared a quick glance outside to see where Clark was, wondering how much time you had left to yourself. He was trying to wrangle the cows back inside the barn, not wanting them to overheat while grazing in the pasture. The sight of him shirtless had you flushing almost immediately. Clark was very rarely ever undressed around you. You could count on your fingers the number of times you’d seen him shirtless, today included. 

In your loneliness, it was harder and harder every day to admit to yourself that you found Clark attractive. He was handsome, offensively so. Without his glasses, it was easy to see how perfect and almost otherworldly his features were. His eyes were kind, and despite his massive size and sculpted muscles, he carried himself with a gentle vulnerability that was cozy and inviting. He refused to allow his physicality to be a source of fear and intimidation for you, and it showed.

It was everything you tried so hard not to see in him, not a monster masking himself as a man. Truly, the perfect specimen, it’s what made him so hard to hate. Seeing him out basking in the sun, glistening in sweat from a hard day’s work that he said was just for you, had you stirring in ways you never thought you would for him. Your own pleasure had been on the back burner for so long, it damn near overcame you when it hit you again. The last time you had even touched yourself was before you came to the farm, and the touch from another was long, long before that. Clark is the only person you’ve seen in months, and even his touch was still noble and chaste.

It made sense that your body started to catch up to your emotional acceptance. It was just biological, right? A natural response to a body and mind that was so, so lonely and starved. Besides, it was your little secret if seeing Clark exerting himself made you feel hot and bothered. He never had to find out unless you told him. 

Your whipped cream was forgotten as you continued to oggle from the kitchen window, unbeknownst to him. The way his muscles flexed had heat rising to your face as he herded the last few cows in the barn. The Clark you knew inside the house was gentle and bashful, nothing like the strong and sturdy farm hand you were witnessing out in the field. In a way, this was the first time you could really get a good look at him without the worry of him catching you. Unlike his, your staring was your secret and your shame. 

When Clark got tired of the stubbornness of the last cow refusing to be herded in, you inhaled softly as he picked the cow up with a single hand and carried it over his right shoulder into the barn. The sheer display of strength had heat pooling in your gut. Clark was not a show-off, especially when it came to his powers. It’s not like he didn’t want to impress you, but he worried that seeing his true strength would scare you too straight. To him, the man of steel who could hold up an entire building’s weight on his own, a cow was less than nothing, and it certainly showed in the ease of his movements. 

You shifted slightly onto your other knee and gasped when you realized the entire interaction had left you feeling a little more than hot and bothered. Clark’s head perked up towards you at the window, worried at the sound of your gasp. Shit, you were caught staring red-handed. You were certain he could see just how childishly embarrassed you were before turning away from the window and going back to your whipped cream, trying to steady your racing heart.

You knew Clark had heightened hearing, or rather heightened senses, but it never occurred to you that he had a particular sensitivity to smell, too. And he, most certainly, could smell you. Here he was, worried you had hurt yourself in the kitchen, and instead found a shameful peeping tom. What a naughty little thing you were, spying on him and keeping it all to yourself. He wondered how many times your gaze lingered on him when he wasn’t looking. He could feel your heart rate climbing as he raced to the front door, not wanting to waste such a promising opportunity. 

Clark was slow to walk inside, letting his footsteps creak against the wooden floor as he made his way in front of you on the other side of the kitchen counter. You were busying yourself whisking the cream by hand, not daring to meet his gaze as he leaned down towards you with his palms flat on the counter. Your resolve was more important than a temporary lapse in judgment. Hell, any resolve you thought you had left would crumble if you actually saw him shamelessly shirtless and sweaty this close. 

“Hi, honey. How’s the pie coming along?” He greeted sweetly, waiting to see if you would look at him or even grace him with a response. 

“‘S good, it’s still in the oven.” You breathed out, careful not to let your neediness be vocalized in your tone. 

Clark ambled his way into the kitchen, stopping to stand behind you with his chest flushed against your back. His gentle disposition sometimes made you forget just how huge he really was. The span of his shoulders easily eclipsed your own, and his chest was hard and broad as he pressed himself against your back. He hummed softly as he placed a hand on your right shoulder, rubbing gentle circles into your shoulder blade with his thumb. His sweet girl, how far you’ve come from the first day he brought you home. Instead of shaking with fear, you were nervous with anticipation and excitement for him. 

The kitchen was quiet with his humming and the sound of metal against metal in the mixing bowl. His left hand came up and grazed past the dip of your waist, reaching to take a scoop from the bowl on his index finger. Clark was at least a head taller than you, forcing you to crane your neck back as you watched his hand move towards his mouth, meeting his eyes as he licked the finger clean. His right hand slides across your shoulder to rest under your chin on your neck, stroking along the side with his thumb. 

His finger was back in for another taste, but he brought it up to your lips instead. The cream was spread carefully across your bottom lip, daring you to have a taste. His smile was easy, but his gaze was piercing. He was waiting for you to take the bait.

Your eyes moved down to his finger, watching it smear the cream more as it stroked your lips. Were you really going to let this happen? This was a point of no return, a line that could never be uncrossed. Barring real intimacy was the last and most steadfast wall you had up. If you gave in to his touch, there would be nothing left of you that wasn’t already his. 

“Taste’s sweet.” He offered, gently moving your bottom lip down. 

Fuck your resolve, you can have him just this once. 

Inhaling a shaky breath, you dared to look up at him again and found his eyes right where you left them, waiting and wanting. You surprised yourself with your boldness, but you remembered you had choices. You had control. Clark’s will was not the only one in the house. When you parted your mouth, Clark had expected you to take a shy lick from your lips and avoid his finger entirely. His eyes lit up as you grasped his wrist gently and took the entire appendage in your mouth, keeping your gaze steady with his. 

Your tongue stroked under his finger as you bobbed it gently in your mouth. A smile slowly reached his eyes as he watched, letting you use his hand as you pleased. You couldn’t find it in yourself to be ashamed anymore, not when he offered himself up so willingly. It was as filthy as it was tender. This wasn’t his lust at work; it was his devotion in action. 

Clark slowly removed his finger, letting your tongue drag along the underside as he pulled it all the way out. The hand cupping your chin tilted your back further as he dipped down to lick the remaining cream off your lips himself, thumb still stroking under your chin and down your neck. His other hand snaked its way around your waist, pulling you flush against him as he hardened against your back. His tongue was slow to circle your lips, catching every part of your mouth before capturing it in a slow, sweet kiss. 

Your eyes shut as he laid slow kisses on you, relishing the way he felt unrushed to have you. There was a quiet, unspoken confidence his kisses gave you. They weren’t heavy and desperate, as if you would slip through his fingers if he weren’t fast enough. They were deliberate and devoted, savoring you like he had all the time in the world to do it. He finally had you right where he wanted you; you finally felt like it was the right place to be.

A small whine broke through the last kiss as he pulled away, causing you to stand on your tiptoes to follow him. You, as much as he, were not going to let the opportunity slip you by. He more than made up for the offense of breaking the kiss by picking you up and placing you on the counter, coming to stand between your legs. Your back rested comfortably on the cabinets behind you as you relaxed under his touch, your line of sight finally even with his. 

He had the nerve to have slow, steady breaths when your right hand came to lay on his chest, just over his heart. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly, even from just a few minutes of tender kissing. His smile was sweet and genuine as he leaned in to kiss you again, pulling you against him with your legs around his waist and his hands roaming you freely. Your hand slid up his chest, resting on the back of his neck as the other one made its way into his curls and pulled him closer. 

Clark found himself hardening more and more each time your hands moved across his body. He was straining, almost painfully so, in his pants against you, feeling the heat radiate off you between your legs. His kisses became deeper, more demanding as he started to pull small sounds of you beyond sighs and labored breathing. All of his hard work in patience was more than paid in full as he felt you were so sweet and willing for him. He could only reward you in kind. 

His right hand came to cover you over your short sleep shorts, feeling your wetness seeping through all the way. You were soaked. Your gasp was sharp as he rolled the heel of his palm into you, making his way down your cheek and just under your ear with his kisses. 

“You smell sweet, too.” He murmured, placing wet kisses along your neck. He was more than eager to hear you fully as he nibbled on your earlobe, following your lead as you rolled your hips into his hands. “You need me to take care of you, don’t you?” He whispered lowly, letting his breath tickle your ear as he chuckled. 

You nodded, sighing in relief as his hand slipped under your waistband and came to stroke you gently over your panties. While Clark was determined to take his time, you were feeling impatient. It was obvious how swept up your desperation became in the moment, wanting nothing more than for him to have his way with you. But, Clark was patient as two teasing fingers slowly stroked up and down, never using enough pressure to give you any sort of real pleasure. 

It wasn’t like Clark to tease, not when he knew he had you. He was earnest and eager, like an overgrown puppy who had just been offered a treat and was trying so hard to be a good boy for it. The moments he had you before this were few and far between, only a select few times you had really leaned into his touch and allowed him to hold you. He never took them for granted. But now, when he had you on a silver platter, eager and earnest for him, he decided to hold himself back. 

You tried to roll your hips down harder for more friction against his fingers, but he only pulled back slightly as you did. An irritable whine ripped through your throat as you leaned in to kiss him, only for him to chuckle against your lips as his were gently ghosting yours. Why was he being withholding now, of all times? You realized, like everything else you wanted that he could provide, you had to ask for it.

He asked you a question, and you didn’t answer him. 

“Clark,” Your voice was small and so painfully in need. “Please, take care of me.” 

He hummed softly in response, letting his petting stop as he left his hand hot and heavy against you. “Good try, but that’s not what I asked you.” 

Oh, he was going to make you work for it.  

“I said, you need me to take care of you, don’t you?” He repeated, staring you down as he rested his forehead against yours. His palm moved up and down slightly, barely petting over your throbbing cunt. 

“Yes!” You whined, tossing your head back as you tried to roll your hips again. “I need you.” 

“Need me for what?” He questioned, unconvinced as his hand came to a stop. Your chest was heaving as you stared right back, the conflict and need swimming in your eyes. He could see you fighting with yourself, deciding if begging was really worth it. Maybe he could help you decide by showing you what you’d miss if you didn’t. His hand started to slip out of your shorts before your mouth dropped open to respond. 

“You’re right, I..I need you to take care of me.” The confidence died in your throat by the end of your sentence, feeling your shame begin to sober you up as you begged for the man you once rejected at all costs. You didn’t care that you knew you’d kick yourself for this later.

“Good girl.” He cooed with adoration, finally slipping his hand under your panties and stroking his middle finger against your clit slowly. “So good for me.”

You let out a grateful sigh as he did, pulling him closer to your chest and kissing him hotly. It was messy this time, moaning into his mouth as your teeth and tongue clashed with his. His tongue licked inside your mouth as your back arched and pressed your chest against his. His finger was steady and measured, following every jerk of your hips as you ground yourself against him. 

Clark drank in your moans, taking them greedily for himself as if he felt the vibrations from them. His finger dipped down, feeling for your wetness as he teased you. He could have been satisfied hearing you parrot back to him and having you come apart on his fingers, but hearing you beg so willingly had him feeling selfish with you.

“Pretty girl.” He cooed against your lips in between kisses. “So beautiful.”

“You like it when I take care of you, don’t you?” He chuckled as you nodded against his lips. You gasped as he sank his finger into you, arching yourself against him as you moaned against his lips. “Aren’t I so good to you, too?” He murmured sweetly, pressing small pecks against your parted mouth. Clark was always a sucker for your praise. 

“So good to me, so good,” You whimpered, whining softly as he curled his finger slowly once he was down to his knuckle. His slowed movements worried you. You couldn’t bear it if he pulled away again. “L-Love it when you take care of me.” 

Love? You should know better than to tease him like that. But you were willing to say anything he wanted to hear if it meant he would make you come. 

“You love it?” Clark implored adoringly, resting his forehead against yours again as he slowly pumped his finger in and out of you. 

His touch was electrifying after all this time on your lonesome. His gentle and chaste touch might have had a chill run up your spine before, but now his hands lit you on fire. His gaze was piercing, having even more heat rush to your face from the sheer intensity of his shameless eye contact. Your eyes flicked down to watch his hand work, clenching around his finger as it pulled back. 

“Eyes on me, honey.” He whispered, bringing his free hand to cup your cheek and stroke his thumb gently under your eye. 

You nodded again, feeling shame creep its way in as you stared back. How quick you were to crumble against him, how quickly you lost yourself to him for a fleeting moment of pleasure. You promised yourself it would be just this once, but you couldn’t help how relieving it was to welcome his undivided attention. Now that you’ve had a taste of his affection, you weren’t sure if you could deny yourself in the future. 

Maybe you didn’t have to anymore. 

“I asked you a question, honey.” He reminded you, pushing his finger back in all the way down to his knuckle. Clark always had a way of bringing you back down into reality when you got lost in your thoughts. 

“I…” Feeling him so deep inside of you left you damn near incoherent. “I love it, Clark.” You whined, starting to believe the things you were saying. You were wading in deep water now. Accepting his touch for your own selfish gain was one thing, but playing with his feelings was something you don’t think he’d easily forgive if you weren’t honest. 

Clark laid a deep kiss on your lips, groaning softly as your hand shot down to grip his wrist. He pulled his finger out all of the way before pushing both his middle and ring fingers back into you. You moaned loudly against him, screwing your eyes shut as he slowly made his way back down to his knuckles. 

“I love you.” He sighed wistfully, curling his fingers as deeply as he could, and stared at your shut eyelids. “I love you so much, sweet girl.” Clark decided he had finally heard enough and would stop his torturous teasing. He would give his good girl all the pleasure she deserved. You had more than earned it, and he was more than willing to give it. “So good for me.” 

He started pumping in and out at a steady pace, watching as your face started to contort with real pleasure. It had been so long since anyone had touched you, and he knew that. Clark wasn’t expecting you to last long, but it was okay. He’d build your stamina up again. 

Your whole body tensed as you arched against him, moaning and gasping louder than you had before. The hand on your cheek came down to press gently on your stomach, holding you in place as he drew your pleasure out of you. Even if it had been a long time, no one had ever made you feel this good before. 

“Oh, my god.” You whined loudly, twitching and shaking as his pace never let up. “Clark!” 

Hearing you beg was one thing; hearing you cry his name out was something else. 

“Yeah, honey?” He cooed, finding your clit with his thumb. “Feels good, huh? Could make you feel this good whenever you want.” 

Clark pressed his forehead back to yours, forcing you to open your eyes and stare at him with an open mouth. He could look at you like this forever. Your beautiful face was pinched in pleasure as his name fell from your lips like a prayer. It was better than any dream he’s ever had of you. 

“You’re my good girl.” He whispered, pecking your lips gently. “So perfect and pretty. I love you.” His confessions were leaving you lightheaded and dizzy, making your approaching orgasm that much more intense. Tears sprang in your eyes as you felt it creeping in. Another promise you made to yourself was broken for this fleeting moment. Whatever he was about to make you feel, you were certain you weren’t prepared for it. 

Clark could tell you were close, even if you were losing yourself in your pleasure. His fingers kept their steady pace as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. He watched as a stray tear fell down your cheek, realizing you’d become an even bigger mess than he had imagined initially. The sounds of your moans and the squelching of his fingers consumed the kitchen as your arms came up to wrap around him, digging your fingernails into the meat of his shoulder blades. Your build-up was steady and torturous; he wouldn’t give you the dignity of having this over as hot and fast as you’d like. 

“You love it when I take care of you because you love me. Don’t you, honey?” Clark urged, speeding up the pace of his fingers as he watched carefully for your expression. 

“Huh?” You breathed out, feeling fuzzy and dazed as you struggled to keep your eyes on him. The pleasure was overriding your ability to think clearly, but you knew even now that this was the very last line he was begging you to cross. This was the mark of submission he was working so tirelessly for; you couldn’t give yourself up so easily. Tears started to flow freely now, wetting your cheeks at the thought he would pull away. “Please,” you pleaded. “Please don’t stop. ‘M so close, Clark.” 

“It’s okay, honey. You don’t have to hide from me.” Clark encouraged softly, working his thumb and fingers in tandem for your pleasure. You and he were so close to getting what you both wanted, what you both needed. Your gasps and moans were winding you as you felt yourself beginning to clench around him, teetering on the very cusp of your orgasm. You couldn’t let yourself go, not when you were so scared he wouldn’t follow through. A pitiful sob warbled out as you closed your eyes, crying freely in his arms as he shushed you gently. Clark could see it in your tears; he had successfully planted the seed of doubt in your mind. “You can let go, my love. It’s okay, I’m right here. It’ll feel so good to tell me the truth.”

His forehead was still pressed just as close as you looked up at him through your tears and listened to his commands. “I love you.” You sobbed, breath catching in your throat as you let yourself go entirely. “Fuck! I love you, Clark!” You cried out, shaking under his hands as your orgasm practically ripped through you. His fingers never slowed once as he worked you through it, letting you ride out your high as much as possible. 

“That’s it, good girl.” He cooed softly, watching as your eyes rolled back slightly. “It’s okay, just let it all out.” You shook almost violently in his arms as you came down from your blinding euphoria and back into the kitchen with him. You were still shaking from your full-body sobs as you cried loudly, clutching him tightly in your afterglow. His poor girl, so exhausted and so emotional in the wake of your confession. 

It was over now. There was nothing left of yourself to protect you. Everything you had promised to keep from him was handed over without question. Clark shushed you gently as he bundled you up into his arms and picked you up off the counter, holding you bridal style as you shook in his arms. His hand came up to rub your back as he held you close and carried you upstairs, lying you down gently in bed before settling next to you. When he kissed your tears away and whispered that everything was okay, you finally believed him.

[yan-ghost-yan]

That’s some good pie 😋

[meiru-sama]

YANDERE STALKER x FEM!READER

This story contains: NONCON, disturbing themes, cyber harassment, implied stalking, sexual assault,name calling, slut shaming, sub&dom yandere degradation, read at your own risk.

You weren't much of an influencer type. You were just some girl who liked posting pictures--- either with your friends, family, pets, foods or just you. Your captions filled with random yet simple emojis that you felt like it matched the pictures above.

You didn't expect to capture such attentions, especially from someone you didn't even knew existed until now.

"Your necklace looks pretty."

You were just scrolling through your comment section, replying to your friends comments when you suddenly came across this little message. The profile was on default and their name was just random letters and numbers.

You didn't mind it at first, you thought of how nice they were complimenting your necklace, though you didn't acknowledge it any further.

Three days passed, you posted another picture. It was a simple plate of pancakes adorned with dripping syrup and a strawberry sitting in the center.

Ys**69 "Looks good."

The random person again commented. You decided to stalk their account and noticed how they weren't following anyone and they also had 0 followers. You noticed how odd it was, it may just be another one of those dump account to spam people.

Months passed, all the pictures that you have been posting was filled with this guy who was sending you random compliments from then and there. You didn't really acknowledge him much but was slightly flattered yet creeped out. Are they your friend in real life? Or just some bot?

Today wasn't very much different from any other day. You were heading to the cinemas, along with your friend who you were laughing with the moment he cracked a random unforgettable joke. You have been laughing for awhile now, but was interrupted when someone suddenly bumped into you. You glanced at them, but only caught the glare that they sent you before they disappeared through the raging crowd.

"What a jerk." Your friend commented, you just nodded--- feeling a strange feeling that slowly went up your throat.

Night came, you posted a picture of you and your friend in the dark cinema. Your faces were close and smiling like newly lovers. After just 30 seconds, a notification suddenly popped up on your phone.

Ys**69 "Attention whore."

Your face darkened, it was still the same account that used to compliment you but now it's like they took a sharp turn. Your frowned deepened when they sent you a direct message. It was a picture of a pale arm with freshly cut wound with blood still trickling out of the open cut. Followed by an eerie message below.

"It's your fault."

You quickly blocked the account, and deleted his message. You don't know if it is a joke or not but it was really disturbing.

The next morning, the image and the messages still lingered in the back of your mind. But you were in relief, thinking that blocking him would be enough and he would finally leave you alone. But suddenly another notifcation popped up into your phone, someone commented on your selfie almost a year ago.

Yt**70 "Take my fat cock."

You let out a scoff with a disgusted look on your face. You were quick to block him and delete his comment but weeks passed--- he continued to pester you, as if he was a shadow that's forever gonna be there.

"Slut." It said, with a video of him stroking his angry cock.

"You don't deserve to live, bitch."

"Nudes."

"Flash us, whore."

"I wanna choke you with my cock."

"Being a model from a porn video suits you better, slut."

"Slut."

"Slut."

"Kill me."

"Stroke me."

"Eat me. Bones and all."

"Fucking choke me."

"Drown me, please."

"I wanna kill you."

"I'll kill him."

"WHORE."

"Fuck me."

"Make me cum."

"I'm coming for you."

You immediately called the police after those taunting messages but they told you it will take weeks to track the culprit down. You were starting to grow paranoid and anxious. It's like he was just... there. Hiding and watching.

.

You wrapped your arms around your shaking form. You didn't want to be out of your cozy apartment due to paranoia but your friends basically forced you.

"Where are we going? It is so late!" You exclaimed, looking around. There were no cars anymore, no people--- just you and your three close friends.

One said that you were all gonna go for a walk but you snapped. You didn't want to be out. You just wanted to sleep and hide in a corner of your apartment. You were quick to turn into your heels, sprinting. They didn't follow you, they just let out a sigh of disbelief.

Minutes have passed, you let out a sigh of relief when a familiar apartment came into your sight but your peace was immediately washed out when an arm dragged you into an empty, dark alley.

You  attempted to scream for help but a sudden large hand covered your mouth, gripping it.

"Shh.. baby, it will just be quick." A low and eerie voice whispered in your ears, sending shuvers down your spine.

You cried, shook and kicked him but all your attempts failed. You were in the middle of demise while he just chuckled at you.

"Told ya, i was coming for you." He said before pulling you further in the deep alley. You could hear the metal in his belt clanking, causing for you to cry louder as if someone would hear you.

"You look so cute in your pajamas, all crying and struggling." He chuckled, pulling you pajamas and panties down with only one hand.

He then aligned his cock head in your entrance. You cried, loud and helpless.

"You're wet, fuck!" He moaned before pushing his cock in. He didn't even give you the chance to adjust, he was already pushing and pulling his cock in violently and needily.

He watched as your face contorted due to an unwanted pleasure. You cheeks were flushed and your face was wet due to tears, sweat and snot.

"Like a scene straight outta hentai!" He chuckled, as he continued slamming into you.

"You enjoy this, don't you? You look like it." He removed his hand from your mouth and  turned to grip your waist with both hands.

"Scream for help and i'll surely stop." He threatened, motioning for you to look at the axe that rested on top of your head. You wanted to scream so bad, ask for help and scream for him to stop with what he's doing. You didn't know why but you gulped down all the fight you thought you had in you.

"If you try to fight me, you know it won't end well. I'll still cum inside of you with your skull cracked open."

"You're fucking sick!" You shuddered, spatting on his face. "You're cute." He giggled, licking the saliva off his face.

He then leaned closer to give you a kiss, it wasn't sweet and gentle. It was passionate and hungry--- it burned your tongue. You hated it. It was poison, it was a crime, it was hell.

[cameronsbabydoll]

blunt!simon!riley during your honeymoon

cw: dubiously consensual language / power imbalance, breeding kink / pregnancy kink, possessive + degrading language, obsession + ownership themes, implied somnophilia (waking you up with sex) marking, bruising, overstimulation, territorial behavior / isolation kink, objectification

a/n: divider by @bernardsbendystraws

he doesn’t take you to a beach. no cute sandals, no cocktails. he takes you to a cabin in the woods with no cell service and blackout curtains.

“honeymoon’s for makin’ sure it sticks.”

you don’t leave the bed for days.

you’re wearing nothing but his t-shirt and your wedding ring. your thighs are sore. your voice is gone. you’re leaking everywhere, and he won’t stop pressing his palm to your belly like he’s checking.

“doesn’t feel full enough. think i need to try again.”

he eats you out in the kitchen. fucks you over the balcony railing. carries you from room to room like a doll. he lets you nap only so he can wake you up by slipping in slow and whispering:

“’s your honeymoon, sweetheart. you want me to take care of you, yeah?”

you lose track of how many times he finishes inside you.

and he keeps whispering that same promise into your ear, every time your belly tenses up or your breath catches or your thighs shake:

“gonna give you a belly, yeah? a bump. little ring on your finger and a fuckin’ baby in you. real wife now.”

[yan-ghost-yan]

🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

[finallychaoticeffigy-deactivate]

Yandere patient x psychologist reader

You can't believe it. How were you assigned to work with the most dangerous patient in the hospital when you just started working a few months ago.

You shook your head "Sir there must be some kind of mistake here, I don't have enough experience to work with him"

Your boss chuckled putting down his coffee at the nearby table as he looked at you "I know it's been only a little while since you started working here, but i believe in your abilities y/n"

You stared at the door , guards behind following you. Room 13, every psychologist would rather quit than to be seen here. Last time he tried to run away, he killed over 9 guards with just a fork. But like your bosses say you have the abilities so it's only worth a try.

You opened the door. You saw a huge man with a straitjacket on.

"Hi" you greeted, putting down your things at a table. You turned to the guards "Leave us, I'll just call when there's an emergency. They nodded as they closed the door.

The patient, or should i say Darius looked at you. His eyes softened. "H-hey" you looked at him with awe . According to his documents he doesn't speak a word to anyone. So that simple word shocks you.

"Come closer...please" He softly utter making you think. Is he trying to get you to come close so he can also stab you with a fork? Even with a straitjacket on , you never know what happens next. Oh well you can't really talk to him when you are this far, unless you shout that is.

You came close to him. You get a better look at him. Jesus this man is beautiful, you thought. Even though he's a murderer psychopath who looks like he could crush you with his pinkie. He's sitting down but you can already tell he's tall as hell.

You then explained the things he had to do to get better. "Don't forget to drink your medicine at the right time." You fix your coat and stand up ready to leave.

"Wait, leaving already?"

"Yes, our time is over" you explained

"oh...Will you come again tomorrow?"

"Totally" you picked up your papers and left

It's been a month since you have been assigned to Room 13. And dare you say ,you two have gotten a bit close. He's not as cold as you thought he was. Actually, he seems clingy and sweet, but you're still not completely comfortable with him.

"Am back" You gave him a small smile. He quickly turned to you and beamed "Y/n !! Come and hug me please" He softly pleaded.

It's kind of weird how he would want to always get in contact with you but you brushed it off. I mean you do work in a mental ward , people here are naturally weird.

As you get closer to him you notice his straitjacket looks a bit out of place. Your suspicion was confirmed as he suddenly lunged at you.

"Hey ! What are you doing Darius get off " you tried to hit him but he's just too strong, heck he even broke his straitjacket.

"Mmmh you always smell divine baby, You have no idea how long I've waited for you to be in my arms" He commented as he licked your cheeks down to your lips.

"No get off! Help someone! " You screamed feeling terrified at his actions. His arms wrapped tightly around you as he also began to suck and lick all over your neck and he moaned in delight.

"I love you Doc , i love you so much i could die, I just wanna kiss you, lick you, suck you and love you forever." He smiled at you , his other hand moved down to your waist and softly squeezed it.

It continued on for a few minutes , the most terrifying moments of your life until the guards came to sedate him.

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

You were given a week of vacation to make up for the traumatic experience you've been through.

You entered the hospital to get some of your things when you noticed how uncomfortably quiet it was.

You suddenly stopped at your track. Is this a prank? You don't think so. You let out a scream as you saw multiple bodies with blood, gut out.

You know those stupid characters in horror movies when instead of running through the exit they ran upstairs instead.

You used to get so annoyed with that , but who knew that's what you'll also do. You didn't think . You just ran through your office .

You collapse on the floor as soon as you close the door. With trembling hands you began to type.

"911 what's your emergency" the other line calmly asked.

H-hello , th-theres been a massacre at the xxhospital. I saw so many dead bodies please we need help" You cried feeling terrified for your life. You still have dreams, you can't die.

" Maam i need you to stay calm , please go to a safe plac-"

"Hello!" You began to panic as the line on the other side was cut off.

"Y/n" you heard a voice outside calling you

"Doc... please come out , i know you're there" He cooed as he began to bang on the door and twist the knob.

You could only cry , not knowing what to do. "Go away !"

"Fuck y/n even your shaken voice is cute. I love you more and more now"

You ran under your table hoping this nightmare could all go away.

Just then you heard the door break down. No..No this can't be, is he in?

"Baby..." Softly said and yanked you out under the table .

You protest and kicked him which was obviously useless as he began to hug you suffocating you,almost.

"Aww. You look so vulnerable right now Y/n, i could just eat you up" The huge man chuckled at you breathing heavily, you swore you could see heart forming in his dark eyes.

"You're mine.. Everything about you " He picks you up still hugging you tightly.

"Now let's get out of here and live together for the rest of our lives"

----------

English is not my first language so my apologies if my grammar is not perfect

[catchymemes]

[infinitydivine]

I am not taking a risk

[darlingsstern]

Not risking it pals

[doralimasstuff]

U know what I want potato of luck

[shrewreadings]

Damn right I’m reblogging. See previous post re wrath of whatever from high atop the thing.

[yan-ghost-yan]

Yes yes~!

[catchymemes]

[infinitydivine]

I am not taking a risk

[darlingsstern]

Not risking it pals

[doralimasstuff]

U know what I want potato of luck

[shrewreadings]

Damn right I’m reblogging. See previous post re wrath of whatever from high atop the thing.

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

Literally covered in rashes; I don't like to be superstitious but I really really really need good luck right now...

[yan-ghost-yan]

HAIL THE POTATO

[beardedmrbean]

[theman]

I GOT A FUCKING RAISE THE POTATO WORKED WTF

[tattooedzombigirl]

This potato works. Every. Fucking. Time.

[imanutcase-10]

Then bring me luck

[thirddeadlysin]

the day after I posted this last time I was notified that I was selected for a really cool mentorship gig and got an unrelated glowing review at work

[bloodandglittertastessobitter]

Reblogging because I really need some good luck

[yan-ghost-yan]

Love seeing the golden potato every new year, wishing everyone a happy 2024!

[youryanderedaddy]

You've got mail! (Yandere!Ghostface)

tw: female reader, hinted stalking, threats of non - con, cutting and choking

You cover your ears, but you can somehow still hear the cheesy song playing over and over. The phone has been ringing for the last ten minutes - so you can't ignore it anymore. You put down the remote with a heavy sigh, and pick up.

"Hello there, pretty girl." Someone basically purrs into the receiver, and you roll your eyes. You thought this type of high school pranks were no longer a thing, but apparently not. Still, you decide to entertain the stranger - living alone can get quite boring at times.

"You flatter me, unknown sir." You bite your lip, looking away to hide your giggle. "You're already calling me sir." The voice answers, groaning. It sends shivers down your spine, and your cheeks start to warm up. "I like that, baby."

You look at the number, flustered. You shouldn't be talking to strangers - and pervy ones at that.

"Who are you?" You try to put more authority in your tone, but it just comes out breathy and uneasy. "And why are you calling me so late?" You ask, taking a step back to turn off the TV.

"I just wanted to wish you a happy Halloween, doll. Nothing more." His deep, silky voice breaks the static silence of the living room. The knot in your stomach tightens for some unexplainable reason. What a stupid prank. Must be some immature college kid - but with such a husky voice? "Why did you turn off the movie? It was just getting good." He pauses. "That old bastard was going to gut the poor darling just like that - with his bare hands." He laughs in a soar, nasty way. "I love those old gory movies. They're so over the - top. So silly, if you ask me." He takes in a sharp breath. "Nothing like the real thing."

You hang up, your heart racing. What happened just now? You know kids can be cruel, but this is too much. You reach for your phone again, ready to report the number to the police - then you see him calling again. You pick up, prepared to curse at the asshole, but his yells take you out of it.

"Don't you dare hang up on me, bitch." The stranger hisses, making you weak in the knees, fright creeping up on you. There is some unmistakably hatred in his voice that feels personal and heavy. You gulp, taking a deep breath. "I'm s-sorry." You utter instinctively, forgetting your initial anger. "Good girl." The number responds, his tone once again low and seductive. You are starting to think this isn't just a stupid childish prank - and instead something much more sinister.

"I've always wanted to see you up close." The man taunts, dropping your name after - and then you freeze completely. He knows you, he knows who you are. "To touch you." He smacks his lips loudly, and you cringe at the wet sound. "All these weeks I've been watching you. When you went to work. When you talked to your friends. When you met up with guys." You stop breathing for a second as the panics sets in - his voice is getting more and more aggresive.

"I wonder how my hands would feel wrapped around your neck. Would you clench on me harder each time I cut off your air? Would you make all those pretty little noises for me, baby?" He chuckles, and it's the most degrading sound you've ever heard - but you're still too scared to put down the phone. "Would you let me cut my initials into your thighs? Let me make a bloody mess out of you?" Even more maniacal laughter - you're getting dizzy. "Well, only one way to find out, I guess."

He hangs up.

Then someone knocks on your door.

[yan-ghost-yan]

On my knees with offerings literally throwing up begging for a part 2. 😩😩😩

[yan-ghost-yan]

Ok so I’m a front desk receptionist and with that position comes having the security team come up to the front and check up on how everything is going, now think about it y’all. Good looking muscular men that are twice my age and call me “sweetheart” or “pretty lady” when I tell you I’m literally a blushing stuttering mess I’m not joking.

They’ve all got gear on too, I’m talking about bulletproof vests, handguns and boots. There’s one security guard in particular that I know would treat me so well because god is he funny, can hold a conversation and is genuinely caring and not to mention he’s absolutely gorgeous and in his mid 40’s.

I’m literally a degenerate that’s obsessed with Ghost and König so imagine how much I daydream about having either one being a security guard at my job and literally just sweet talking me the whole time.

-Y.G.Y

[buckyalpine]

Bucky knows you’re faking. He has no idea where you met this guy or why you’re still with him, in fact Bucky almost feels sorry for him. Because this guy thinks he’s doing a good job. He thinks he’s making you cry from pleasure, he thinks he’s pulling orgasms from you left right and center but Bucky knows.

Becuase he’s heard you. Fucking smelled you.

In your room, all by yourself.

He hears every moan and whimper, all those noises you can’t hold back. The filthy squelching of your pussy making a mess on the sheets is a sound unmatched. You always smell so good after and he can’t get over how soft and sweet you are, all fucked out with a quiver in your voice, not realizing he knows exactly what you’ve been up to with those pretty fingers between your legs.

He’s seen the way you practically glow afterwards, a shy smile on your face, acting like you weren’t moaning like a bitch in heat minutes ago. Always when it’s well past midnight, coming down for a snack, a thin sheen of sweat still covering your skin. He’s usually in the kitchen, having to pretend his cock isn’t aching after hearing how pretty you sound, how desperate and loud you get when you think no one can hear you.

But he can.

Bucky grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, smirking when he heard your less than enthusiastic sounds and silence a few minutes later. He watched carefully as you made your way into the kitchen with nothing but a flimsy robe covering you, eyes growing wide when you realized you weren’t alone.

“Have a fun night?” Bucky cocked an eyebrow, struggling to keep his eyes on your face and not the loose knot, so close to letting your robe fall open, giving him access to that pretty body-

“Oh-yes” you shrugged, suddenly feeling hot all over realizing Bucky had probably heard you, “I-um-I don’t think I’ll see him again”

“Why not” Bucky prodded, his curiosity piqued, self-restraint faltering, he couldn't hold back, not when that poor excuse of a robe was begging to be ripped off. “He can’t make you cum, can he princess”

“What?” You stared at Bucky like a deer caught in headlights, frozen on the spot, mouth gaping while he chuckled.

“I said-” he got up from his place at the kitchen island, biting his lip while backing you against the counter, your eyes growing wide feeling his hard, poorly contained bulge press onto you. "He can't make you cum? Can he?"

“I-" You stammered, gripping onto the edge of the counter, surely you were dreaming, there's no way this was really happening, all the fantasies you've thought of coming to life-

“Oh baby” Bucky cooed at your flustered state, tilting your face up to meet his eyes, “Don’t get all shy on me now bunny. Was that it? Did he make you cum?”

You shook your head, still nearly frozen like a baby deer, whimpering when Bucky groaned, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Knew you were faking it princess, I've heard you, y'know" Bucky smirked at your gasp, clearly mortified that he'd heard you during your most intimate moments. "Y'sound so pretty when you touch yourself baby"

"Bucky" You whined, not sure what you were begging for, arousal pooling between your legs, spreading your knees slightly to press yourself against his thigh.

"Tell me to stop" his jaw was clenched, gripping onto the single strange of restraint he had, his fingers toying with the knot of your robe.

"D-don't stop" You let out a shuddered breath, shivering when your robe was thrown off before you could blink, Bucky's lips smashing onto yours. His hand gripped the back of your neck, his tongue claiming your mouth as his, teeth nipping and sucking your lip. He lifted you onto the cool marble counter with ease, metal fingers swiping through your folds, gathering your slick before shoving them in his mouth, groaning at the taste.

"You're fuckin' sweet bunny" He didn't give you a chance to respond, prying your thighs apart and dipping down to lick a fat stripe through your soaked cunt before latching onto your clit. You cried out in pleasure, his wide shoulders keeping your legs spared apart.

"B-Bucky!!" Your head was thrown back when he shoved two fingers into you, curling and fucking them into you, moaning when you grabbed onto the roots of his hair, tugging harder the closer you got.

"Already sound so pretty baby" He let out a dark chuckle, kissing your pouty face when he pulled away just before you reached your high, tugging down his sweats to pull his cock out, "Bet you'd sound even better when you're stuffed, hm?"

"Please" You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, practically humping yourself on him, desperate to be filled. His cock was curved towards his tummy, the swollen head dripping with precum. There was something about him still being fully dressed while you were stark naked in the middle of the kitchen that aroused you more, knowing damn well anyone could walk by at any given moment.

"You need a fat cock to cum around, don't you bunny? My bunny's such a little slut, she can't cum unless she has a fat cock fucking her brains out?" He taunted, loving the way you were nothing more than a babbling mess already, moaning when you felt his tip catch against your fluttering entrance.

"Please Bucky, need it"

"I know baby, I know, my poor baby needs cock, doesn't she" His eyes locked with yours as he started to breech your tight hole, your breath catching in your throat at the stretch.

"Breathe, s'just me baby, swear you got my cock so hard-shit" He hissed as he pushed himself to the hilt, pulling out at an agonizing slow pace, amusement twinkling in his eyes.

"Faster Bucky, please-please need you" You tried to get him to move but he shook his head, feeling you flutter around him.

"First tell me what you call be princess, what do you call me when you're all alone with these sweet fingers"

Had Bucky not been holding onto you, you would have fainted; you had no idea he'd also heard the nights where you desperately moaned and came over and over again thinking of him. Bucky smirked against your skin, slowing down the drag of his cock again, snapping his hips suddenly making you squeal.

“C’mon darling, what was that you called me”

“DADDYY” you wailed, wrapping your thighs around his waist when he stated to pound you with a bruising grip around your waist, the clinks of glasses in the cupboards growing louder the harder he fucked you on the counter. "OH-GOD-D-DADDY"

"That's right, daddy's fuckin' you baby, makes me so hard when you call me that" Bucky groaned, thrusting faster, already on the brink of an orgasm. He could feel his cock swell each time you moaned or whimpered, his hand sneaking down to rub your clit.

"N'look at this precious clit, s'this what you're always playing with baby? Always rubbing this needy little button, thinking on one can hear you?"

"F-fuck Buckyyyy" Your eyes rolled back, tears streaming down your cheeks when he rubbed you faster, your first orgasm choking his cock without warning. You couldn't formulate words, letting out silent screams, blinking pleasure consuming you.

"That's it baby, moan for me, cum for me, cum for your daddy baby, know you've never cum for anyone else, go on n'cum for daddy, make daddy proud" Bucky looked feral, grunting with each thrust, desperately holding off his own orgasm, needing to feel you cum around him over and over again.

"OH-DADDY-D-DON'T ST-STOPP"

"Look at you baby, such a good girl for daddy, giving daddy all of her cum" Bucky's eyes were wild, staring at where he cock split you open, his length and trimmed hair covered in your creamy mess. "Daddy wants all of his baby's cream sweets"

"OH FUCCCKK" You wailed, your juices squirting all over his crotch, making it impossible for Bucky to hold off any more as you clung into him.

"So fuckin' proud of you baby, made daddy's cock feel so good, y'know that? Y'make daddy so hard, so horny, you're gonna make daddy cum so hard angel, m'gonna cum so hard for you, Fuck-gonna fill you up bunny-take it-take my cum-fuck-FUCCKK" Bucky roared against your neck as streams of cum started to fill you, his cock throbbing and twitching inside you. You were limp in his hold, passed out from pleasure, your combined mess dripping down your thighs and onto the floor.

You didn't even realize you were tucked under the warmed blankets, wrapped up in a pair of thick, muscular arms, Bucky's large chest acting as a pillow. You nuzzled into him while he softly petted you hair, blissfully unaware it was just the start of a very long night.

[yan-ghost-yan]

The way I literally did backflips, this is so good omg 🫠

[yan-ghost-yan]

Y’all don’t know me at ALL but a fun fact about me is that I LITERALLY hate myself with burning passion.

Now taking that into account, imagine if König has you set up in front of a mirror while he uses his massive fingers to bring you to the edge over and over again but won’t let you actually hit that high UNTIL you give yourself a genuine compliment.

“Come on der schatz, look at how pretty you look all f*cked out and drenched for me, just think how good it’ll feel once you do as you’re told” at this point you’re a whining begging mess. Your half lidded eyes rake over your spread out frame in the mirror as König starts to move his fingers in and out of you even faster.

In the end you’re just a crying mess because fuck are you sensitive, and you can’t take much more of his rough fingers running through your folds. Unfortunately your immense self hatred just won’t let you say anything nice about yourself at all, because in your mind you can’t even fathom how König isn’t repulsed by how you look. In the end nothing went his way and you ended up in bed hugging a pillow crying your trauma out because fuck…..why can’t you just be nice to yourself for even a minute.

[yan-ghost-yan]

You’re gonna sit there and tell me that Simon Ghost Riley isn’t the king of Size Kink. I MEAN COME ON THE MAN IS 6’4” for god sake.

Imagine he’s got you bent over, with his massive hands on your hips and all he can think about is how easily he can manhandle you into any other position simply because he WANTS TO.

[fangswbenefits]

Devotion

Summary: You give yourself to Miguel, and he's about to show you what complete devotion looks and feels like. (Miguel's POV)

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x spider-woman!reader

Word count: 4.2k

18+. Miguel POV. V*rginity loss. Cr*ampie. F*ngering. C*mplay. Org*sm denial. After care. Edg*ng. Br*eding k*nk.

Part 1. Devotion (reader's POV)

Thank you to @ancientbeing10 for the help with the Spanish!

 Miguel had decided to scoop you up in his arms and carry you to his bedroom, slowly placing you on his bed.

He then leaned in to place a kiss to your temple, further cementing his adoration for you.

You immediately tilted your head back, and he felt his ego soar.

You were always so eager for more… his sweet girl.

He could easily get lost in your body for hours on end. Being touch starved had made him desperate for your touch, and he wished he was still in awe at how responsive you were to him.

His lips hovered over yours, seeking your warmth, and he felt you pressing a hand to the side of his face. "Please kiss me…"

Just like clockwork, his cock twitched in response.

And he fulfilled your request, taking your lips in his.

He felt you arch into him, and he nearly lost it.

You were going to be the death of him.

He pushed his tongue past your lips, deepening the kiss, and your hand slid to the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

Your eagerness nearly had him lose his balance, and he had to place both hands on either side of you for extra support, settling in between your legs at once.

A moan escaped your throat, and you broke the kiss all of a sudden, as the underside of his cock settled between your folds.

Your clit was swollen enough for him, and he could feel his sanity slowly draining from him.

"We can stop."

Your eyes locked with his. "Do you want to stop?"

You were so sweet…

He leaned to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "This isn't about me."

And he meant every word. As much as he wanted to be buried balls deep inside you for the first time, he didn't want that at the expense of your comfort.

You came first.

His desire was secondary.

"I want more…" you whispered with certainty, rolling your hips and causing his cock to slide along your clit.

That was enough to have more precum drip from the tip, as your wet folds enveloped him.

He couldn't fight back a throaty moan, but managed to gripp your hip to a full stop. "Are you on birth control?"

You paused abruptly. "What?"

The ultimate test to his remaining sanity was dependent on your reply.

"If you want to continue… I have to know."

"Yes—Yes, I have an implant."

He had suspected as much. A part of him wanted to breed you tonight and have you carry his child right away. But the rational side of him urged him to take it slow, so he felt relief that he could still spill himself inside you and practice for when the time came.

In the back of his mind, he wondered if you'd be able to take all of his cum without it overflowing.

Unlikely.

He groaned lowly, as he buried his face in your neck, lips caressing your heated skin, which prompted your hips to buck into him.

So fucking eager and needy… 

He hissed from the added friction, and began to slowly match your rhythm.

The way your swollen clit dragged along the underside of his cock was enough to have him closer to exploding.

He watched you bite your lip to reign in your moans, and he grazed his thumb across your lower lip, releasing it from your teeth's grasp. "Please… let me hear you…"

Your mouth parted in a low whimper.

"Louder."

Adrenaline coursed through his veins with each thump of his heart, eventually causing his fangs to emerge.

He carefully prodded the skin of your neck with the sharp tips, testing your endurance, but earning a loud moan in response.

You were so good for him…

Wet sounds filled the room, and he felt more of your wetness begin to coat his cock.

He managed to tap his watch twice, switching on dim lights that allowed him to take in the sight of you under him.

His lips brushed your cheek. "Are you sure you want this?"

You sank your fingers into his hair, arching your back again, and causing your nipple piercings to dig into his chest.

He felt a string of precum dangle from the tip of his cock as the cool metal teased him. The urge to tease your opening with it nearly blinded him, but he needed your words first.

You took a deep breath, staring intensely into his eyes. "I'm sure…"

He immediately pressed an adoring kiss to your forehead. "You can tell me to stop if it gets too much and I will."

Miguel needed you to know this. He needed to reassure you that he wouldn't overstep the line with you.

He reached easily over you to grip a long pillow and eased it under you until your back pressed against it, angling you so you could take in the sight of his cock dripping precum in between your folds.  

But if he was going to do this the right way, then he needed his body fully ready. He pressed the security lock on his watch until he heard a click, promptly removing it from his wrist and placing it on his bedside table.

He could feel you watching his every move, and pressed down against your clit.

"Does that feel good?" His voice came out strained.

"Yes… you're really…" you paused, eyes glued to where his body met yours. "Is it normal for you to…"

He followed your line of sight and couldn't hold back a chuckle, as he understood the root of your bewilderment.

"With you, yes."

An absolute truth. 

His body had been reacting to you in ways he had never experienced before with others.

And it certainly did wonders to his male ego.

Suddenly, he raised his hips and he saw strings of precum mixed with your wetness dangle from his cock, shifting and kneeling at your side.

He knew you were about to protest and  immediately silenced you with a hungry kiss, as you whimpered into him.

Kissing you felt intoxicating and he was so lost in you that he didn't notice your intentions until he felt your fingers wrap around his cock, tugging gently.

A hiss from him quickly broke the kiss. "Fuck…"

Your grip felt uncertain and he could feel the inexperience in your touch.

"Miguel… please…"

Sweet, needy girl.

He planted a kiss on your cheek. "I need you ready for me."

You pouted in response. "I am."

That was his weakness…. he could feel more precum dripping out from that look on your face alone.

He closed the space between you, bringing his lips to your ear, "Can you take more than one of my fingers, then?"

One of his hands began to trail down from your neck, caressing your hardened nipples, before traveling down until it reached your clit.

"Can you, sweet girl?"

He felt your clit twitch faintly under his touch.

"I think… I think so," you replied.

Miguel yearned to feel your hearbeat, so he grazed the pulse in your neck with his lips, revelling in how it quickened under his touch.

He was simultaneously tracing your clit with his middle finger, collecting more and more wetness.

Once it slid down to your entrance and noticed how soaked you were, he was sure you would be able to take his finger with ease, so he plunged inside.

The reaction was immediate as you gripped his cock tighter, causing more beads of precum to drip.

"Easy, cariño… not so tight."

Your impatience and lust caused you to jolt your hips against him, and he took the chance to ease himself inside you until he was buried knuckle-deep.

He studied your every reaction, until he hit that sweet spot with the heel of his palm pressing down on your clit, immediately drawing a gasp from you.

"Tell me how it feels," Miguel encouraged, sliding in and out of you at a steady pace. "I need to know."

You merely hummed in response, riding his finger desperately.

But that wasn't enough for him.

He needed more, so he paused at once. "Use your words."

Your eyes snapped at him, surprise splattered across your face. "It feels good… really go-" but the word immediately choked in your throat as he began to pump into you more rapidly.

The grip around his cock was becoming almost unbearable, and Miguel sensed you would have him explore unless he stopped it at once.

He then quickly unclasped your fingers from around him with a pained hiss. "I know you're eager, but if you keep touching it like that I won't last…"

And you pouted at him and Miguel crumbled.

But what really made his cock twitch violently was the sight of you bringing your precum-soaked hand to your breasts, glazing your nipples with the warm liquid.

He gave you a satisfied growl and figured it was time to escalate things a bit more.

"Do you think you can take a second one?" he asked, craning his neck to swipe his tongue across one nipple. "You set the pace."

Your eagerness was such a turn on and he smiled faintly when you nodded your response.

He traced your entrance with a second finger and immediately felt your tense around him, especially when he began to slide it inside.

You felt too tight around him, and he had to curse inwardly to keep himself from losing what was left of his sanity.

He shifted closer and kept his eyes on yours. "Relax, cariño… you're doing great."

You clenched again and his cock twitched in unison as he yearned to have it inside you.

He decided to place a reassuring kiss on your cheek. "Nearly there…"

A whimper parted your lips as the second finger joined the first one deep within you.

Impatience had you rolling your hips and moaning softly.

"More…" you mumbled.

Miguel's gaze dropped to his fingers and how they pumped in and out of you more and more effortlessly, as your wetness coated them.

The obscene wet sounds had his cock leak more strings of precum and he pressed his palm against your clit once again. Miguel immediately took advantage of this angle, and had his lips on your neck, sucking gently.

The rhythmic fluttering of your walls around his fingers allowed him to know that you were nearing your point of no return.

"You're so close…"

His cock kept twitching impatiently and he realised he needed to feel your grip once again. He took your hand in his and placed it on his cock until  your fingers wrapped around him once again. 

A hiss tore through him.

The way you struggled to grip all of him nearly had his balls tighten for a sudden release.

"Let me fuck your hand…" he pleaded into your neck, snapping his hips. "Just… squeeze harder…"

You did as you were told, and he immediately matched his hips with the tempo of his fingers inside you.

"Miguel… Miguel…" 

He was dangerously close and your sweet voice moaning his name felt so addicting.

Suddenly, he took your lips in his and you allowed his tongue inside, and he gladly swallowed your increasing moans.

"You’re doing so good," he praised you over and over again after he broke the wet kiss.

He could feel the beginning of your orgasm wash down on you, and he knew he couldn't let that happen just yet.

With much reluctance and no shorter amount of willpower, he managed to slide his fingers from your clenching walls, effectively stalling your bliss.

Your moans immediately choked in your throat with a sob.

"Miguel…why?!" you immediately protested, and he could swear you were about to cry.

You let go of his cock right away, whimpering as frustration took over you instead.

"I'm sorry," he said truthfully. "I want you to come around my cock, cariño…" he added, before kissing your quivering lips.

You were so desperate for him.

It was maddening.

You nodded and he shifted along the mattress until he was between your legs, enjoying how you were spread eagerly for him.

Miguel glanced at his glistening fingers and brought them to his mouth, lapping his tongue around them.

"You taste really good."

You gave him a nervous laugh. "Really?"

He smiled faintly. "Don't take my word for it, then."

Bringing his fingers to your lips, he groaned as you promptly took them in.

His sweet girl tasting her sweetness on him…

You began to suck gently, and he couldn't tear his gaze away from you.

He pressed down on your tongue flat with his fingers, before sliding out of you.

"You're so hot."

It was a heartfelt compliment that had you looking away.

He immediately cradled your face with his hands. "Look at me."

Slowly, but surely, your eyes met his again in between laboured breaths.

"You are. You are beautiful."

Truly the center of his world and the reason he would one day go mad.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, as his cock came to rest against your swollen clit.

"Are you sure of this?"

"I am. Please, Miguel…"

Yes. You would definitely be the death of him, but he couldn't think of a better way to part this world than this.

He caressed your cheeks with his thumbs. "I'm not going to last long," he said. "But neither are you."

You pouted again at him and he groaned in response.

"Try to relax as much as you can, okay?"

You swallowed. "Okay."

He began sliding his cock along your soaked folds, grazing your clit, before pressing the tip at your entrance.

His heartbeat skyrocketed in anticipation, and he watched you squeezing your eyes shut.

He kept the palm of his hand pressed flat against your cheek in reassurance. "Please look at me…" 

You took a deep breath and met his eyes.

"I've got you," he promised, brushing his knuckles across your heated skin.

And he did.

And he would for as long as you allowed him to.

He increased the pressure until the tip slipped inside with some difficulty. You were too tense and he decided to press his other hand against your inner thigh, urging you to spread wider for him.

This was pure torture.

"Breathe…" he whispered, pausing momentarily.

A shaky breath escaped your lips.

"Are you okay?"

Probably not.

As you brought your hands to claw at his back, he was sure this was taking a toll on you. He didn't want to overwhelm you, and he needed your consent before continuing. No matter how badly he wanted to sink fully into you. He needed you to give him the green light.

And you did so with a nod.

Taking a deep and long breath, he pushed his hips into you again, feeling your walls swallow more and more of his cock.

Your body tensed again. "Stop… please…" you begged, tapping on his back.

He immediately paused, fearing he might have gone too far. "Do you want me to slide out?"

You shook your head, the motion causing one tear to slide down from your eye, and he leaned in to capture it with his lips, tasting the saltiness.

It nearly had him slide out on his own, not bearing the sight of you in pain.

"How much…" you then sobbed, staring down at the length of your body to find where the two of you were connected. "... is it almost there?"

Not quite, but he didn't want to scare you away.

He would be as gentle as he could.

Miguel gave you a warm smile. "Nearly there, sweet girl."

You inhaled deeply and sighed through your nose. "Go…"

He felt him dig your nails into his skin as he moved deeper inside, drawing a sharp gasp from you.

Miguel kept eyeing you with undivided focus.

"Tell me to stop, and I will."

More tears began to roll down, but he made it his mission to kiss every single one away in between praises. 

He felt his balls pressing against you, and stopped moving as he was already fully buried within you.

It took all of his strength to keep him from exploding right away.

You were finally his.

And he was finally yours.

Knowing that you had trusted yourself with him was the highest praise he could have.

"Are you okay?" he asked, trying his best to steady his shaky voice.

"Yes."

He doubted your answer, but he would have it ring true soon enough.

The moment you began to relax around him, was the moment he dared heaving out a deep sigh of relief.

Neither of you moved for a while.

But Miguel knew he was doomed.

In fact, he was surprised he had managed to keep his orgasm at bay for so long.

"I'm not going to last long," he confessed, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "Can you relax a bit more?"

He would be embarrassed to come so easily, so he had to try everything in his power to extend this moment for you.

"Please move," you said.

Fuck.

Miguel inhaled sharply, before dragging his cock out slightly only to slam into you, burying himself balls deep again.

You felt so good.

Too good.

How he wished he could breed you properly.

"Can you go faster…"

He brought his lips to your shoulder and bared his fangs along your skin. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't. Please…" you begged.

He set a slow pace at first, and he felt control slip from him with as you clenched harder around him.

More wet sounds filled the room with each sloppy snap of his hips.

"So good… fuck…así… no pares," he groaned, pleasure gripping him hard.

He felt you sliding one hand in between your bodies until the tips of your fingers grazed his soaked cock. Your walls immediately gripped him tighter than before, and Miguel nearly lost it. 

You were so effortlessly hot and your curiosity always took him by surprise.

His pace quickened slightly, and he removed your hand with his, pressing down on your pulsing clit with his thumb.

There was no way he would have you do any of the work now. He wanted to be the one to deliver your orgasm.

"Just… just like that…" you whimpered breathlessly.

You arched into him, and he felt your pierced nipples digging into his chest.

He was too close to his own peak and had to pause.

"I need you to come first," he rasped, drawing determined circles around your clit. "Please… please…"

He needed you to reach your own peak first and milk his out of him with your walls squeezing around his cock.

His thumb left your clit, and moved back, pressing your legs together with both hands and pushing your knees into your chest.

A strangled hiss died in his throat from the added friction.

His attention was back to your clit again, and you moaned loudly under him, gripping fistful of his sheets with both hands, as he was determined to bring you over the edge.

"Come for me… clench around me, cariño," he urged, voice dripping with despair.

The sound of fabric tearing filled his ears, and he was now certain your orgasm had finally hit you hard. You threw your head back and he felt your delicious rhythmic contractions grip his cock.

Somehow, he managed to slam into you twice before reaching the bliss he had so stubbornly kept at bay.

"Mierda, te sientes tan bien… carajo," he suddenly mumbled in between groans, burying himself as deep as possible, finally spilling himself inside.

He felt his vision blur as the overwhelming sensation of coating you with his seed had him growl as loud as he could.

His erratic breathing brought him back to his senses, and he finally slid out of you with a slurping sound.

Even through the blinding haze of his bliss, Miguel realised that he could easily get addicted to being inside you.

He then allowed his cock to settle in between your folds before sliding it along a few times and releasing his hold on your legs, and you let them flop down to the side.

Miguel watched as the first drops of his cum began to dribble down.

You looked completely spent yet beautiful and mesmerising as ever, and the urge to take care of you immediately overtook him.

"Wait here," he said, sliding out of the bed and pressing a kiss to your parted lips.

He bolted out the bedroom in an instant and only stopped once he grabbed a towel from a drawer, fully intending to wash you with all the after care you deserved. 

By the time he returned to you, he was met with you dragging your fingers along your tongue, tasting his cum.

The sight would be enough to have him hard again in no time, but his stamina had taken a blow, and he would need to recover first.

"Does it taste good?"

You were caught by surprise and your eyes locked with his.

He slowly kneeled on the floor next to you, tapping his finger to your jaw to have your face fully turned to him.

It was no wonder that he had fallen so hard for you. Even if lust had so often clouded his mind, the way he felt for you ran deeper than that. 

He watched as you brought your other hand to brush some strands of his damp hair away from his forehead.

"Does it taste good, cariño?"

You gave him an innocent, removing your fingers from your mouth. "You can taste it."

Fuck… he absolutely adored how you would so often turn his own words against him. 

His lips crashed with your and his tongue slipped past them hungrily. You sloppily pushed his cum against him and he tasted himself on you with a groan.

He eventually broke the kiss, pressing the towel to your forehead, wiping away some of the sweat droplets. 

Beads of cum dripped from his lips, but he didn't bother licking them clean. "Let me take care of you."

You nodded slowly and his lips curled into a faint smile that you mirrored. "What?"

"You're so… perfect," he confessed, sliding the towel down the side of your face and neck with utmost gentleness.

You giggled. "Is this a post-sex thing?"

He arched an eyebrow, looking very serious all of a sudden. "You're doubting me?"

Miguel didn't care for pillow-talk, nor did he care to utter words he didn't absolutely mean. 

Your smile dropped slightly. "Oh, I just… I… don't think I'm perfect. No one is."

That jabbed at his heart and not in a good way.

Even though he knew what you meant, it still pained him to realise you didn't fully believe him.

He proceeded to press his lips together, his strained gaze shifting to your breasts as he continued to pat the sweat away.

"You are. To me," he mumbled.

And that was all that mattered, right? He couldn't care less how others perceived you. You were the pinnacle of perfection in his eyes even if at the risk of it sounding… corny. 

He had never sought perfection in anyone else but himself, and he knew it was more of an utopian quest than anything else, but you were the closest thing that had ever come close to it.

So, naturally, you deserved to know it.

Even if you didn't believe his words.

He then reached down between your legs and felt you jolt in surprise.

"Was I too rough?" he asked worriedly.

You immediately shook your head. "You were perfect."

His heart skipped a beat as he had grown accustomed to by now.

"You said no one is perfect," he mused, cleaning his cum with the soft fabric.

Your smile didn't waver, but he could see your eyelids become heavier. "I'll make an exception for you."

His sweet, sweet girl…

He leaned in to press an adoring kiss to your cheek, as he waited for more of his cum to slide out of you.

Miguel could tell you were about to fall asleep, but decided he wanted to take the after care a step further.

"Want to take a shower?"

A grumble left your throat as you kept your eyes closed. "Later… I'm so tired."

A smile tugged at his lips.

So adorable...

"I'll carry you," he offered softly.

He rose to his feet and effortlessly took you in his arms, sauntering inside his bathroom, pressing kisses to your forehead. 

He stepped into the shower and turned the water on, earning a groan from you as the warm liquid hit your skin. 

"Can you stand?"

"Yes, yes…" you said through a yawn, landing on your feet and easing the hold of your arms around his neck.

He gathered a tiny amount of body wash in the palm of his hand, and dragged it along your back with suds covering your skin before sliding down your body.

You pressed your forehead to the tile and he took the opportunity to graze the wet piece of cloth in between your legs to wipe the remnants of his cum, but causing you to flinch from his touch instead.

He immediately halted his movements  "Did I hurt you?" 

"It's just a bit sore… it's fine… don't worry."

His ego soared to incredible heights as it dawned on him that he was the one able to make you feel that good.

You slowly then turned around to face him and tip-toed to place a wet kiss to his jaw, which he welcomed with a smile 

He felt absolute devotion and adoration for you, and Miguel made a silent promise to always make sure you knew that.

Author's note: Thank you so much to everyone who has been with this story from beginning to end. It means a lot. I hope you were able to connect with these characters in one way or another 🩷 I will be missing Miguel and sweet girl so much... this story wouldn't be anything without your vital support, and I will forever be grateful! Ruby~

Masterlist

[yan-ghost-yan]

Going to bed, but I’m definitely gonna read this in the morning 😌

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

❝Oh, oh-oh❞

Konig x male!reader | nsfw, smut | sub. bttm. reader (AMAB) | wc: 3,747

warnings: public sex, crossdressing, feminization, anal fingering, blowjob, slight sexual humiliation towards reader, light degradation, dacryphilia

in an attempt to win an argument with your boyfriend, you hit a few low blows but he bests you by bringing up how you sounded last night.

"God, it is freezing out there" A large hand brings you closer to Konig's side. He rubs your arm though the pressure is barely felt through the thick coat you wore but the gesture is sweet. "I thought the Earth was supposed to get warmer, you know I'm starting to believe that that's just a scam" Konig chuckles. "You are just not built for this weather, babe" He teases as he slings a heavy arm around your shoulder to reach towards your covered face. "Well, I'm sorry I'm not built to survive inhuman levels of temperature, I'm sorry only one of us can be an operator for a private military contractor — Mpfh!" The same gloved hand that offered you comfort mere seconds ago was now planted over your face, tugging your knitted cap down and over your eyes in the process. "Schatz", he warns. [Darling.] His tone is still light despite it. The streets were more or less bare due to the weather but the shops were still aglow with lights. Those poor, poor, retail workers. The only thing staving off feeling completely guilty for stepping into one of the shops and making the already miserable worker have to work in horrid weather was the fact that due to Konig's work relocating the both of you here, your wardrobes were in desperate need of attention. "Hey," He greets them with a nod, his eyes squishing in a façade of a grin. His face was hidden with a mask which he finds a lot of comfort in not only for the fact that he worries someone from work finds out about his face and finds him (or worse, you) but it was less straining to mask his expressions in a conversation.

You rip his hand away from your face with a huff, walking ahead of your boyfriend as a way to show your obvious displeasure. Konig just chuckles and follows along, grabbing a basket. The shop wasn't that big but the brand was a household favourite.

It was a little pricy but Konig had more money than he knew what to do with at times, he can indulge. Plus, the quality and longevity of the clothes were worth it — it was all ethically made as well! A win in both of your books. "Schatz, you can't be mad that I remind you not to speak of my work aloud" his accented voice chides as you look for the basics of a wardrobe. T-shirts in neutral colours, jeans, underwear, and a new winter jacket since yours was doing shit at keeping you warm. "Yeah, yeah, because secret service assassins are constantly listening to you" An arched brow is thrown your way as your larger-than-life boyfriend shadows you. A sigh escapes you and with a dramatic wave of your arm, you place the back of your hand on your forehead and bemoan; "You're so important, schnucki". [sweetie-pie] "A real James Bond, I'm so lucky to be with you". Konig bursts into laughter. The pop song playing on the speakers do little to cover how gleeful the sound was. You stubbornly look ahead, finding immense interest in the different shades of green the t-shirt was made in. He all but towers behind you as he wraps an arm around your shoulder, pressing his covered nose to the top of your head as his chest rumbled with amusement. "You're extremely silly, hübscher". [handsome] "Compared to you? Everyone is, obviously" his eyes gleam and his arm squeezes you closer. It makes you halt your movement. That familiar pressure against you, the aura of heaviness suddenly draping over you. Konig can't help but think of how truly lucky you are. How many soldiers, mercenaries, and lowly scum had he crushed with his bare hands just like this? Too many to even count. He preferred keeping his thoughts of work and you on very different sides of the fences but whenever you throw a silly fit he can't help but coo inwardly at it. The blood he's knee-deep in, the strength in his sinewy muscles, and the rank he's earned by his sheer brutality and determination all purr in delight at your stubbornness. At your brattiness. You feel something poking at your back. A feat only Konig's cock could manage despite the thick coat you're wearing. Well, this wasn't a complete shock. After his return, the two of you would spend hours annoying your neighbours, however, your upheaval from your last house was made in haste.

Konig managed to squeeze in some frottaging in the shower last night but jetlag won over. Perhaps that's why it took so little to rile Konig up. He sways and you do too. Konig eyes his peripherals, noting the workers were pretending to look busy reorganizing some jewellery on a gondola so he leans down to whisper in your ear.

"Let's look in a different section," he knows you're about to retort so he grabs your chin and tilts your head backwards that way he can leer down at you.

"Command, not suggestion". He enjoys the way your eyes scan his. The flicker of emotions, the way you wet your lips and a hint of your teeth brushing over your lower lips. He knows the blood pooling around your cheeks isn't just from the cold. Your eyes flutter close then open and he grins behind his mask as he releases your chin/neck.

Konig guides you towards the women's section with a steady gait. A worker gives an apprehensive glance but admittingly got far too embarrassed to stare once you stopped in front of the more...sexy bedroom set display.

Silk lingerie didn't last long in your bedroom sessions with Konig. He's gentle when he wants to be — those lazy morning sex with his tongue working you open and his hands stroking your dick to completion until you're limp and boneless was bliss — but his fetish for dressing you up in delicate lingerie sets always ends with your legs and hips needing a few days to recuperate. His size was another reason why sex with Konig was utterly satisfying and sore inducing but it's not like you dislike it (quite the opposite). "Which one, hm?" This time his arms are circling your waist. It was a shame that he was so covered up because the sight of his veins across the back of his scarred, calloused, hands always made you shiver. God, you can practically see the way his biceps are flexing as he continues to sway again. The silk clothes are all much too raunchy. Suddenly, it's too warm under your layers but that's not the exact reason you're squirming.

Most of them are cute. Feminine-cut clothes that would hang too low on your hips with thin straps that would slip down one shoulder. The ones that weren't cute were the classic lingerie dresses. Their length is so short you knew it would tickle the back of your thighs and hide nothing once bent over. The way it was tailored to hug just under the breasts was meant to give it definition but seeing as you were lacking in that department you'd think Konig wouldn't be a big fan? Wrong. He's as horny as an animal in heat when it came to you but he did have a thing for the way your "tits" couldn't fill out the certain clothes he got you. Maybe he just has a "thing" for you in general. He was insatiable. Konig stops swaying. You snap back into the present and furrow your brows. "Schatz", he purrs. "Yeah, yeah, I'm..." The black silk set catches your eye and you reach for it to feel the lace that lines the bottom hem. Pleased by your choice, Konig reaches for the hanger to pluck it from your hands and into the basket it goes. "Changing room...Mein König?" [My King?] His mask hides his sharp grin but his eyes darken from that warm coffee-coloured eyes to pools of sin.

The changing room was foreign. New country, new city, new surroundings. A sense of relief washed over you as you noted the wooden doors, glad they weren't just curtains held together by some loose velcro straps or hooked onto the opposite wall. The changing room hallway was dimmer than usual but once Konig had opened the doors to the room, it was clear why. He let out a low whistle at the sight of the floor-to-ceiling windows backlit by LED strips. The dimension of the space was large enough to not feel too claustrophobic — those mirrors seemed to increase the space as well. You shed your jacket, spotting a stool in one corner of the room meant to be a place to put your clothes, bags, or perhaps someone's horny partner to sit on as they look at you expectantly. The sight of Konig sitting on the tiny seat was comical, you pursed your lips to stop laughing but it couldn't be helped. Konig took off his cap and mask, effortlessly reaching towards the hooks on the wall to hang them before he leans back and tilts his head at you. His long, toned, legs stretched out before him. It invades your space. Overwhelming the room with more of him until the giggles fade away. Unwilling to accept his silence, you prod further. "What? You look cute, okay. All awkward in the corner, is this how you were in high school? All limbs like a spider, bet you were an eye-catcher, baby" He doesn't seem phased by your teasing. With his mask off, you can now ogle his face. That scar on the bridge of his aquiline nose, those strong jaws and sunken eye-sockets that give his eyelid a more hooded look. His top lip is thinner than his bottom, with a prominent cupid bow. Feeling emboldened you shed your knitted cap then your jacket and let it drop to the floor. The scarf twirls around your wrist as you walk forward and bend over to level your eye line with Konig. His downward-facing lashes almost always tickle his cheek — well, when they haven't been burnt off from his close proximity to explosives and fire. Thankfully, they're intact this time and you brush your thumb across his cheek, admiring their length. "You're the cutest little boy, you know?" his eye twitches. Still, he does nothing. Konig simply keeps his eyes on your face. You lean in, breath ghosting along his lips while you grin. "Come on, nothing to say, Mein König? Usually, you're the one that's so fucking loud, whimpering, growling, grunting —" Konig jerks forward. You hold your ground. His silence was both nerve-wracking and gratifying. "Ausziehen. Na." [Strip. Now.] He knows you know what he's saying. There's recognition in those perfectly shaped eyes. Leaning back, he adjusts his broad shoulders and eyes those shapely legs impatiently. "Ich werde nicht zweimal fragen." [I will not ask twice.]

He likes this changing room. Not only could he see the expressions on your face as you strip, but he could also see the view from behind thanks to the mirrors. The lights cast you in an almost angelic glow, a rim lighting that makes your skin all but glimmer. You're bent over, pulling your pants down, when the sounds of your moans fill the room. You nearly split your skull open in your haste to grab the phone from Konig's hand. He lifts his leg and his boot pushes onto your stomach, knocking you back and making you stumble onto the floor. You're almost naked, completely defenceless. Konig does not stand. He simply sits and knocks the toe of his boot to your thigh and jerks his chin to the basket close to you. Meanwhile, your moans are still playing. The wet noises of skin slapping against skin, the mattress creaking and the headboard slamming on the wall. "Konig! That's way — That is way too loud!" He splits open your thighs with the same boot and you squeak as he applies pressure to your crotch. The icy coolness from the outside has you shivering as you clamp your thighs around his ankles but he simply presses. Your high-pitched moan elicits a chuckle from Konig. That motherfucker mimics your moan, his stoic face turning annoyingly expressive as he mocked yours. His giddiness is hard to contain. He turns the screen to you and keeps on echoing the noises you're making. "Oh, oh-oh! Oh fuck! Konig! Right there!"

"Point taken!" You plead, blindly reaching behind you to grab the silk dress. You hear the shuffle of feet in the changing room hallway, hushed whispers but Konig does not pause the video. He simply lets it play as you hurriedly slip on the outfit. What a sight you were.

On the floor, pathetically slipping on a raunchy outfit while your crotch was still being stepped on. The straps are falling off your shoulders and your flustered state does little to assist. Your hair is askew and your cheeks are warmer than the fucking sun. The video stops just as you reach your orgasm and Konig removes his boot. "Strip. Fully."

He tosses the phone on the floor and leans forward. His elbows are on his knees and he gazes down upon you like a hungry wolf. After an awkward shimmy, the only thing protecting you from the wooden floors of the changing room was the thin silk. Your cock was tenting the front and no amount of tugging the material down was going to help you. "I think I may have been gone for too long, yes? My slut is much too disobedient as of late and getting more and more perverse. You're so hard after letting everyone in the store hear how pathetic you are when you take my cock, have you no shame?" Konig clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth when you avert your gaze. When you meet eyes, he's unbuckling his belt with one hand. "Do you even deserve to see my cock?"

You shake your head. No, no, of course, you don't! You're just a whore, a perverted boy who belongs to be on the floor. Even the lingerie you wore was too modest for you. Konig could tell you were edging towards that cloudy state. His cheek twitches as he suppresses a knowing grin. "That's right. You don't. But I'm allowing you to" "Th-Thank you, Mein Konig" He spreads his legs and pats his inner thigh after he had unzipped and pulled his heavy cock out. You gulp at the sight of it. It was damn near monstrous — a cock a few people could only ever see in pornography. Crawling on all fours, you nuzzle his thigh as thanks before grabbing it by the base. God, it was so hefty. A delicious pink tip and a few delicate splatters of moles decorated Konig's cock. The mouthwatering veins were given kisses and yet Konig remains silent as he watches with rapt interest in how you worshipped his big dick. "Perk your ass out. More" You're confused as to what he intends to do. Perhaps he wanted to see your asshole winking back at him in the mirror while you suck him off? That seems likely. You spread your knees and arch your back as you suck on his tip, loosening your jaw and covering your teeth as you close your eyes. Konig removes his glove. It doesn't take long for you to start drooling. He swipes two fingers under his dick, around the ring of your mouth, then leans forward to slip them in. Your choked reply is ignored by Konig. It's hard to breathe. You can feel his fingers scissor your muscles open all while he envelops you in his scent, his warmth, his everything. You feel like he's consuming your every being. His cock is halfway in, your jaw is aching and anyone unlucky enough to walk into the changing area would most definitely hear you gagging on it. Your eyes are watering, huffing through your nose as you feel your hips jerk without any conscious thought behind it. He's fucking you open on his fingers and he knows where to aim to make you all but spineless. There's this distinct dick-shaped bump in your throat. Konig is silent. When he pulls out his fingers and cock you cough, cushioning your face on his thigh as you catch your breath. One of the straps is falling off your shoulder and the dress hangs off your chest in a whorish display thanks to your flat chest. Konig's breathing is faster than usual but he is wordless as he grabs your wet chin.

"Kuh...Konig — Ngh!" You're looking at your reflection. Legs as wobbly as a newborn fawn as he holds you up. The dress is bunched over the curve of your ass. You're jerked forward until you slam into the mirror. A pained whimper is replied with a harsh slap to the back of your thighs. He uses his boots again. This time to kick your ankles apart. The fingers on your chin force you to look forward as Konig's heavy cock is placed on your back.

His face places itself on the crook of your shoulder. Those dark eyes swallow the lights from the mirror as he takes pleasure from your melted expression. You still taste his precum on your tongue, jaws still slack and lungs still desperately trying to swallow air. His thumb on your hole can feel the way you clench around nothing and Konig finally breaks his silence. "You are so filthy" You don't deny him of this fact. His cock pushes on the tight ring of muscles and you moan, fogging up the glass as he pushes, pushes, and pushes until he's inside and oh fuck. Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head. He fills you up so well. Every inch violated, comforted, by him. The pressure is so overwhelming but so familiar and you're getting on the tip of your toes to perk your ass out more. He watches the way your ass swallows inch after meaty inch. "Mein Süßer" [My sweet one] Konig groans into your ear. He's gripping onto your waist so tightly you know bruises will bloom and that thought alone makes you press your cheek on the mirror so you can look at him from over your shoulder. "Mein Konig, please...please, please, please" He's been far too mean and you're begging so sweetly. Konig thrusts in and out of you so harshly that your breath is being knocked out of you. He's kissing you, you're barely there to reciprocate. It's messy, it's hot, it's too much. His hand thumps onto the mirror and the lights flicker but neither of you cares. He's fucking into you so good you can't think. Konig is mouthing your neck, one hand on your waist while the other is groping everywhere, anywhere — as long as it was you. That's all that mattered to Konig. You're being far too loud. Both of you. There's no way no one knows what you're getting up to. Your breaths are fogging up the mirror and there's a ripping sound as Konig tugs on the strap too harshly. "Buh-Baby!" he shushes you. "I'll pay, fuck, I'll pay for anything you want, this boypussy is worth it. So fucking good, so tight " he snaps his hips into you and you choke out a cry at his name. "Fühlt sich gut an, nicht wahr?" [Feels good, doesn't it?] Your chest is now in full view and so Konig grabs at it, twisting your nipples harshly. You're sobbing, tossing your head back as plead for him to slow down. Tears are now streaming down your face, lashes clumping together as you groan out, hand prints being left on the smooth surface as you desperately attempt to grasp at anything to ground yourself. "So sehe ich Dich gerne". [I like seeing you this way.]

Konig grins wickedly. He knows you're close, he can feel it in the way you're tightening up around his cock. He's not that far behind and he was determined for the two of you to cum at the same time. Thankfully, Konig knows just what to do to push you over the edge. Not that it would take much. All that foreplay, that humiliation, already made you a stroke away from jizzing on the floor. His sharp canines sink into the juncture of your shoulder and neck and you yelp as you paint the floor and mirror with your cum. "Ah, fuck!" you tightened around him like a vice and Konig stills as he empties his balls into you. His thighs twitch and his hips jerk a few times as he pants to catch his breath. "Woah!" Konig holds you up, laughing breathlessly as he hugs you. Your head is lolling to the side so he gently leans your head back, stroking your neck and chest until you're able to sharpen your eyes back into focus. "Are you alright, Schatz?" he's flattening his palm on your chest to feel the way your heart thuds against your ribcage. You nod, gulping and panting as you try to form sentences. He's patient as he carefully maneuverers you to lean fully against him. "Fuck, why'd you have to cum in my ass" Konig snorts as he lets you peel away to brace yourself on the mirror. He would say sorry but he's not. The sight of his cum dripping out of your hole has his cock twitching all over again. While you're catching your breath he reaches for his phone. The sound of his camera going off makes you roll your eyes. He's always taking pictures or videos. Says it keeps him occupied when he misses you a bit too much while he's deployed. Who are you to deny your boyfriend his needs? Wordlessly, you jut your hips back and spread your ass for him. He thanks you. It was silent as you both clean up (as much as you could) and when everyone was dressed you try not to limp on your way out. The workers all avoid looking in your direction and you groan as you hide your face in Konig's side. He simply tosses an arm around your shoulder, feeling smug despite the bashful blush under his facemask. "We can never shop here again" you mutter "There are more shops" Konig comforts.

[yan-ghost-yan]

Headed to bed but I don’t wanna lose this, gonna read it tomorrow. GOSH it sounds so good 😩

[cultemis]

spellbound — ellie x reader x abby, soulmate sm/au

(＞。☆) summary: at the age of 19, each individual is given a special mark, one that ties you by soul to whoever has a matching one. you're thrilled to find out that your soulmate is your best friend, ellie. ellie who you've loved since you were sixteen. ellie who has decided to make things work with her current girlfriend despite their different marks.

(＞。☆) content warnings: soulmate au, angst, unrequited love, one sided pining, and swearing + more to be added

(＞。☆) note: okay this took me forever to think of as if the soulmate au isn't the most popular au ever???? im so stupid but im so excited to make this one. i have not planned it out, so i'm sorta going with the flow, but i think it'll turn out amazing! hope you guys absolutely love this. don't forget to like/reblog! <3 taglist is open.

ONE. real love

TWO. code of silence

THREE. start of a lie

FOUR. vision talk

FIVE. through me

SIX. doesn't get better

SEVEN. soft as stone

EIGHT. dream machine

NINE. where love lies

TEN. we know the end END.

[yan-ghost-yan]

Reblogging for when I have time to read it because it sounds like a masterpiece 😩