#LOOK AT THEM OH MY LORDY

[stealingyourbones]

I’ve been looking at ninjago fanart recently and everyone draws these guys so tiny. They train at LEAST 3 hours a day and one even has super strength! Make these guys Big and Yolked. Cole should be built like a strongman at minimum and the others range from gym enthusiast to powerlifters. Give these dudes some muscle and some weight.

Like not to shit on peoples versions of the characters but these guys are hella strong and should have the physique to show it or just some muscle definition and have a filled out frame bc of their strength. Why are they all twinks.

#bones speaks #ninjago #i haven’t interacted with the fandom too much but I beg of y’all google strongmen physiques. i prommy they’ll look cooler- #if they have the physique to match. they should be Built and in doing so have fat on them and not be twig sized #idk if anyone else has this opinion but oh my lordie some of y’all draw these boys like they’ve never worked out a day in their life

[nebulousmedic]

Is it just me or is Tumblr being weird? Like I've reblogged a couple posts and it just keeps showing me that notification of "failed to send post"

#mun talks #is it because I tried reblogging stuff from blogs that have my acct blocked? #I can see them from my main (this is just a sideblog) #and I honestly didn't know they had me blocked :I #honestly good for them for curating their content but #oh lordy do a lot of people have me blocked lol #probably bc of Mediscout..... yeah.... #or bc I like SpeedingBullet and Bloody Suit #makes me a lil sad that I cant rb their stuff but oh well #it is what it is #or is it the “Not proship” in my bio. does it look sus. be honest #uh oh I rant on tags

[cat-vase]

guys the slap didn’t happen this episode. the ending insinuates glam isn’t able to make it to the duet — what the fuck did ches do?

#I AM SO CONCERNED AAAAAA #I FEEL SO BAD FOR CHES OH MY G O D #glam yelling at ches looked like sebastian shut up im not ok #ALSO I LOVE LORDI. ALSO BOBS VOICE....... BUT ALSO LORDI #metal family #metal family spoilers #i fucking guess??? the episode is OUT and has english subs already i feel spoiled #god.... im just pointing in ches' direction rn i hope he's ok #i hope lordi and bob r still in contact with them i want them to be friends </3 #im not very coherent rn but i have FEELINGS ok!!!!! im emo!!!!!!

[floralovebot]

I really enjoyed ypur latest headcanons !!!so let me ask you more questions (you have probably answered some of them before, I'm not sure):

what kind of love language.s do you Flora and Helia have ? how would Helia plan an ideal date with Flora and vice versa, how would Flora plan a date with Helia ?

OH HI!!!

I did answer an ask about Helia's love language(s) here!

For Flora though, I think her main love languages are touch and words of affirmation! Acts of service is also pretty high up for her :) And this blends perfectly with Helia!

When it comes to planning dates (cute 🥺), I think they both do it a fairly equal amount! Honestly, I think they prefer really casual dates with the occasional fancy date for special occasions. Things like picnic dates, movies, even hiking could work! They're definitely the kind of couple that can see anything as a date as long as they're together. And I think they'd be pretty casual about asking each other out too! Like literally just sending a little "date tonight?" text or asking over the phone yknow. Although, I can also see them occasionally doing something sickeningly sweet to ask each other (Flora flies over and re-alives his plants again with a letter attached and Helia sends his little birds over). Wow they're so gross <3

#IT TOOK ME FUCKING FOREVER TO FIND THAT POST OH LORD #oh my #this is what happens when you dont tag properly lordy #god there are so many hc posts that arent in the hc tag boooo #answered #winx florelia #mine.headcanons #crying screaming shidding thinking about florelia on a date i can't do this #theyd be SO sweet and in love it would literally hurt to look at them

[dilfian]

ohhhh my god. oh my god. its so cold. wtf.

#xoxo #genuinely losing my mind. thought oh ok yeah i'll sit in the car while it heats up and then drive off but ohhh noooo #wearing 4 layers and then shorts under my overalls. . .idk if this is sctuslly going to work or not. #also cooler westher means i csn wear my longer overslls agsin. and pants under them. #SAYS ITS 36° FEELS LIKE 29° LMAOOOO #not only. cold. and validated. but slso. god. all those plants. #its almost too cold to water today tbh. should at lesst hit above 40° if not 45° whoo lordy #actually i just looked it up to be sute and im right 40° or higher. otherwise no water for plants. #okayyy im going to try driving now. buhbye.

[yongseungkim]

.

#literally such a big part of me wants to go like #okay well if you and xyz are just friends #like truly just friends and you arent in denial/omitting the truth from me #have u considered maybe just maybe that it looks like you could be leading her on #the amount of time they spend together is kinda nuts #and its so funny cuz yesterday she was like talking about how her brain doesnt make those connections like #two other ppl before they started dating were spending copious amts of time together and i was like dont u see that? #and she was like no?? to me its like what if they just enjoy spending time with each other #and honeslty more than her i looked at xyzs reaction #cuz she looked STRAIGHT at her when they were talking about all that time they spent together. #bro idk i know she doesnt like to think but man she kinda should like #sometimes i think im insane but other times im like yeah if this was any other pairing of two people would def think smth fishy is going on #spending this much time with ONE person bruh like im her roommate now and i dont even spend nearly as much time #and she doesnt really invite me to do things when its the two of them which to me feels slightly weird from time to time #cuz im friends w both of em?? so it unintentionally feels exclusatory but thats okay lol im trying to let go #i know i feel hurt because shes choosing to spend time with xyz person too instead of with me #i know they have a different relationship too where its like both are on the more active side of things so maybe for her shes just like #oh this is my workout friend/buddy can do all the phsyical exercise i want #bc this girl can also keep up with her athletic demands but dear lordie #if she is telling me the truth as she believes it shes either in deep deep denial or shes leading this girl on for real like #they are just always attached at the hip and like the amount of physical affection bw the two has like #skyrocketed in the past month or so its nUTS #bro honestly i need to stop thinking about this and move on i cant keep getting pits in my stomach when i know shes out and about #and prob with xyz person lol

[elliesmistress]

MOLLY

Warnings: pure fluff, ellie being a loser ngl, mentions of drugs (molly, weed, and alcohol) drug usage (molly and alcohol), Ellie and the reader are both over 18, mentions of wanting to kill themselves (Ellie), comedown from drugs, Ellie is a bit of a love bird in this, kinda dealer ellie?? women kissing (AHHHHH), cuddling and kissing (no smut but like... read at caution bru) Tommy, Joel, and Maria are in this.

W/N: uhh, just ellie being a cutie. if you don't like it scroll :3

You were driving home from work to go to a house party Joel was hosting at his place, there were going to be maybe 20-30 people there? You weren't the best with social situations but you and Ellie usually just went up to her room and got high as fuck, go downstairs, and eat all the food (you both thought you were so smart and no one would know but it was super obvious).

You get back home, say hi to Joel and go to Ellie's room.

"Hey els" you say putting your shit down and sitting on the bed next to her. "sup babe" she says as you turn to face her, she's got this really suspicious look about her- you know this face well, ellie does this face when she's done something wrong or she's about to say something she KNOWS you're going to say no to. "What'd you do ellie?"

"I may or may not have gotten some molly," she says, you look at her, slightly dumbfounded at what you've just heard. Fucking Molly? How the fuck? You thought about it for a minute and realized you guys don't have enough fun-yes sure, there was a family event but molly couldn't be that strong right? So you both took it, you took 1 and she took 2.

"Ellie?"

"mhm?"

"I love you so much man," you say in such a whiny voice, turning to face her and giving her a shit-faced grin.

"I love you too baby, oh my lordy lord- I love you so fucking much you have no idea, c'here" She pulls you in for a big cuddle, and you smile, embracing her cuddle- by this point, you could love a rock.

You both cuddled for god knows how fucking long but it was filled with a lot of "I love you's" Ellie's phone binged and it was Joel, you open the message for her and smile at it. It was Joel.

JOEL: Hi els didn't know if you were asleep or not but didn't want to annoy you if you were Tommy and Maria are here and they want to say hi

"Ellie?" you say with a slightly worried tone, she was a lot higher than you, being the fuckhead she is she took 2 caps instead of 1. "hmh yes baby? I love you" her words were slurred, no way she could make it out as sober-

"Let's go downstairs"

That probably wasn't your smartest choice ever.. You followed Ellie around to make sure she wouldn't do or say anything stupid- both of your pupils dilated and obviously on something other than weed.

"hey joel man.... I love you man, did you know that? I love you so much, so fucking much dude" Ellie's voice is slurred and her voice high pitched she hugs Joel whilst Maria and Tommy are looking at her with slightly confused faces, Ellie was never like affectionate towards, anyone... Matter of fact, you were the only person she was "nice" to.

"You all good Ellie?" Joel asks "Yeah man, never better i just love you- same with you Maria, you're cool as fuck"

"Language!" Joel says in one of those fatherly tones "don't tell me what to do when I'm just tryna give you love. Same with you dude" she walks up to a random person and starts to try and hug them.

"Okay! i think that's enough for you- I'll get her to bed, she's had a lot to drink" you say, grabbing her shoulder quickly and dragging her away "I wanna HUG YOU ALL" her voice getting loud, Joel, Tommy and Maria are all laughing at this situation- by this point you were as well, knowing Ellie's comedown would hit her HARD and that she would wish to never do this again-

You get her back into her room and sit her down, giving her some water-

"I love you so much Ellie," you say to her, giving her a kiss on the lips. "You have... No idea. How much I fucking love you bro- like...... I love you so fucking much" Ellie laughs, voice still high, she was HIGH and HAPPY as fuck- completely stripping you both get into bed putting the fan on because let's be real, you both were overheating-

Ellie holds your waist and starts to spoon you "I love you baby, I love you so so much"

"I love you too baby"

"babe?" Ellie says. "Hmmmmm?" You reply back with. "I love you man" you giggle "I love you too Ellie" .

-

ELLIES COMEDOWN

Ellie wakes up the next day as if she's been hit by a bus, no but literally that's what she feels like- you both "blacked out" about 6 hours into the high but you assume you were just sleeping because there were no unusual messages from Joel or anyone.

You woke up later than Ellie did but when you finally woke up and got dressed, you found Ellie holding onto the toilet for dear life, looking like she's just seen a ghost.

"you good babe?" You say, luckily the comedown didn't hit you as bad- I mean, you still couldn't look yourself in the mirror without being terrified of your own fucking hand but that's besides the fucking point. "Do I look okay?" She was on the verge of fucking sobbing- you get kneel down to next to her and say "probably shouldn't have taken two caps aye?"

"shut the fuck up" she says, pushing you slightly.

"keep drinking the water babe, don't be stupid. I'll go make food" you stand up, leaving the bathroom, walking straight past Joel who you knew was going to ask questions but maybe.... If you don't acknowle-

"fun night?" Joel says, sipping his coffee, you turn around to see him and smile. "Yes, but now I should make food".

You finish making the food, going back to Ellie and handing her the plate of bacon and eggs you had just made.

"I want to kill myself" Ellie says, practically crying by this point. "I know baby, you'll be okay, I promise." You say hugging her

"let's never do this again yeah?" She nods fast and hugs you.

AHHHHH, I haven't done a oneshot in a while and I honestly didn't know what the fuck to write about so uhhh here.....

#ellie williams #the last of us #ellie imagine #ellie tlou #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #ellie smut #ellie williams x reader #wlw post #wlw ns/fw #ellie the last of us #ellie #joel and ellie #joel miller #tommy miller

[sebscore]

Came from ur fem!driver HCs and now I have ideas:

- The origin story of George’s ‘Russy Bussy’ nickname🤣

- Y/N hazing Oscar, Nyck and Logan in Abu Dhabi because as Valterri says, ✨traditions✨

- Y/N and Pierre gossiping abt Piastrigate w/ Yuki, Zhou and Charles (cuz oh my lordy-ord THE DRAMAFEST that was the summer break and Seb’s retirement😭)

THE ORIGIN OF RUSSY BUSSY

pairing: george russell x driver!reader / alex albon x driver!reader / lando norris x driver!reader

warnings: the word “bussy” 😭

author's note: i mean everything you need to know is in the title :) yes, this is a reference to that one eric name tweet from 2019! tysm to the anon for the requests!!

• • • • • • •

''Did you see what George tweeted earlier?'' Alex asked her while they waited for the rest of the grid to arrive at the driver's briefing.

Y/N shook her head. ''No, why?''

Alex simply chuckled and pulled out his phone, opening the Twitter app and typing in George's username. He laughed once again, before showing the tweet in question to her.

GeorgeRussell63: New race week! Let's get busssy everyone!

Y/N's jaw dropped, in shock that the Brit actually had posted that on his official and very public Twitter account. ''You know for a guy that likes to correct my grammar, he sure does make a lot of spelling mistakes.''

''I don't think he's realized yet what it means.'' The Williams driver told her, putting his phone back in his pocket.

''Hey, guys.'' Lando took the seat next to his female friend, sighing as he sat down. ''What are you two talking about?''

''George's bussy.''

The three bursted out laughing, gathering some confused looks from the other drivers in the room. Lando seemed to immediately understand what they were referring to.

''I thought I was the only one that noticed.'' He said, trying to calm himself down.

''I was gonna tweet something back at him, but I didn't want people to make fun of the fact that I know what it means.'' Alex explained.

Lando and Y/N nodded at his words, understanding that fans can remember these things for years to come. ''I wanna see his face the moment he finds out what it means.'' She said, rubbing her hands together like a villain would when creating their masterplan.

''Me too, it's gonna be hilarious, our Russell George.''

''Should we let him figure it out on his own or do we tell him?'' Alex asked, debating if they should explain the meaning to him.

Y/N shook her head. ''He should figure it out on his own, maybe with a bit of our help though.'' The mischief in her eyes didn't go unnoticed by Lando and Alex, the two already started to grin.

As if on queue, George and Lewis walked into the room, and briefly greeted everyone. George was about to sit down next to Sebastian, but he was quickly interrupted from doing that.

''Hey, Russy Bussy! Come sit with us!'' Y/N called him over, a teasing smirk present on her face.

The nickname caused some stifled laughter in the room, particularly from Pierre, Daniel, Lando and Alex. Meanwhile George awkwardly looked around as he made his way over to them.

''Hi, guys.'' He sat down next to Alex, a puzzled look on his face.

Lando briefly took a glimpse at Y/N before speaking. ''You guys are later than usual, you had a bussy morning?'' He asked, trying his best to not start cackling.

''Yeah, we had to film something with the team…'' George hesitantly answered, totally unaware what they were laughing about. ''Why are you saying busy like that?'' He asked the younger guy, putting his hand on his waist.

''Oh, isn't that how you say it?'' Alex said, feigning innocence. ''Yeah, or tweet it.'' Y/N added, having too much fun teasing the Mercedes driver.

''I can't follow, guys.'' George was visibly running out of patience with the teasing.

''Oh, crikey! He doesn't know what we are talking about.'' Y/N mimicked George's speech, continuing the mocking.

Alex was the one to cave in first. ''We're talking about your latest tweet, Russell.''

''What about it?'' He obviously still hadn't realized what had been so wrong with his spelling of the word 'busy'.

''You still don't know?'' Lando said wide-eyed, surprised George still hadn't been made aware of the entire thing.

''Know what?''

Lando and Alex turned to Y/N, pleading with their eyes that she explains it to him. She rolled her eyes, but succumbed.

''In your tweet it sounded like you said 'bussy' instead of 'busy', and let's say the two words have completely different meanings.'' She clarified.

George nodded, understanding the fault he made. ''Okay… then what does it mean?''

''With 'bussy' you're referring to a man's, uh, anus.''

They could see the gears turning in George's head, starting to comprehend why he received the reactions he did to what he assumed was a normal tweet. He had given the internet another reason to clown him for an entire season.

''Oh, good heavens!''

''But hey! Look at it from the bright side, your gay fans must be very happy right now!''

#f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 fics #formula 1 fic #f1 x oc #george russel x reader #george russell x oc #alex albon x reader #alex albon x oc #lando norris x reader #lando norris x oc

[majorproblems77]

Hi, Linked Maze fans! It's me again!

Ohhhh boy we are cooking and I am excited. Let's do a late-night ramble with yours truly

When I tell you I looked at these panels for a reasonable amount of time I was lying and it was longer than that.

Now a link to the comic page can be found Here! Please go give it some love :D

For the important stuff!

Linked Maze belongs to @linked-maze and its wonderful creator @frulleboi. (You should follow them, they are wonderful) And as a heads up, Linked maze is for more mature audiences! :)

As usual, you know the drill, Grab some water, Grab some popcorn and prepare for me to ramble at you for however long it is!

Here we go!

Oh lordy it's the sun (you'll see why later.)

He sniffin. Sniff Sniff

Now, Everyone remembers the first rule of exploring. Dont run off! That includes you Wolfy!

Now I have a theory. Which I'll come back to in detail later. But just, Remember the shadow behind four for me. We'll get back to it.

Warrior is the group Dad at this point. also, I love this side shot of him thank you.

Also

Warrior. Speaking to Wolfie like he is a kid rather than a wolf.

WARRIOR KNOWS SOMETHING IS UP YOU CANT CHANGE MY MIND

I dont think It'll be Sky. I think it'll be a hero we haven't met yet!

We interupt this comic analysis for unhinged analysis :D

Ready? Me too, lets go

Because, that shadow?

this one?

I dont think it's wolfy, It can't be.

Wolfie's shadow has a definition to it. It has a shape.

You can see the outlines of his tail, which is what we would see if it were him.

Where this one is a blob. Closer to a person.

Ie Winds's shadow

the blob

In fact, if I had to give you a position for Wolfy right now. It's not there. Let me explain.

Shadowssssss

Remember the sun? (Me too, I miss it;-;)

The sun can tell us a bunch about time and stuff. But also where a person is (Because fun angles and maths that I know way too much about tbh)

Anyway

So Wolfy's shadow hits another wall

This wall looks flat so it can't be a corner. (Taking the grass as reference)

And his face isn't shadowed at all, So he himself isn't behind a wall. He's approaching one tho. So in this case I reckon Wolfie isn't visible at all to wind and Warriors at the point Four turns to them.

So who is this mysterious shadow?

It ain't angel. No way.

I reckon it is another Link group. And we are either going to meet the last of the Links we are yet to meet. Or we are pulling groups together.

You know what....

I think it's World or Spirit. And we are gonna see these guys interact before they meet the other larger group of heroes.

Though im leaning towards Spirit just because of the shadow's shape. (And the lack of Sheerow)

Let me know what you think because I'm not 100% sure and I'm interested in what you think.

Okay ramble over, but to be fair that's why your here right?

Oh windddddd

the poor boy

I feel so bad for him he didn't deserve this. He probably tried to open his eye cause he was excited. :(

:((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((

The boyyyyyyy

He's trying to be a strong hero in front of these other heroes again. This poor kid i feel so bad for him.

ALSO THE EARS :(

They have expressive ears and it kills me to see wind sad like this.

AHHHHHH

BIG BRO WARRIOR

I LOVE HIM

And his little ear lower of worry for the small I love him sm okay.

Excuse me?

bhdjlhsafdnsajkfndas;nfdas

You can't leave it like that

Where's wolfy

Wheres four?

Will the small boy ever not be in pain?

I have questions!

Ahh okay okay I loved this update it was very fun. Im excited to see what's coming up in the next chapter.

Thats all from me!

Have a great night all! :D

#linked maze #linkedmaze #linked maze analysis #zelda au #links meet au #loz au #lm twilight #lm four #lm warrior #lm wind #lm wolfy #comic analysis with major #ramble corner with major #suitable name for these #oh lord its 3am but i love this comic i had to #worth it #forever worth it #im going to bed lmao

[chaoticbreadcrumbs]

Shang Tsung's shoes but it's getting worse:

Titan Shang Tsung's boots:

They look comfortable and powerful

Very stylish

Cowboy vibes. He would have definitely impressed Erron Black with these.

Looks difficult to put on but he probably has slaves to do it for him

Shang Tsung's flip-flops:

Goofy ahh half covered half airy material interwoven power ranger horseshoe ironing machine Zhongli coded fairy flip flops

Santa Claus helper sandals

He got them out of Outworld Amazon for 10 fake elixirs

Looks horrendous, looks like it feels uncomfortable and probably smells even worse

Sending these straight to Netherrealm

Salesman Shang Tsung's King Henry VIII's royal clodhoppers 3000:

Oh Lordy Lord

He looks like he is doing an internship in Lord Farquaad's palace.

100/10 I want him to hold my hand and make love to me while wearing those.

Bet these shoes' toes can slice better than Smoke's knife

Where are these toes going though

Man gonna get feet scoliosis

Foot drop medical bills await

He put on a good luck charm ankle bracelet to protect him from the shoe hate but it didn't work on me

#I HAD TO ZOOM IN #MY ENHANCING APP'S FREE TRIAL IS ENDING TODAY #Shang Tsung #Mortal Kombat #screenshots #flip flops #shoes #boots #Mortal Kombat 1 #mk1 #mk #goofy ah #sandals #meme

[precious-little-scoundrel]

do have any rosie headcanons? especially erm, ahem, *spicy* ones? (asking for a friend, plz/thanks)

Oh Nonnie, don’t I just! come on into the pillow fort, (don’t forget to bring your friend) and be careful not to crush Meatball’s paws.

Massive amounts of gratitude to my darling friends who contributed so very much found herein, some aspects word for word, and who are always there in my hour of need: @suraemoon @faegoddessog

Well hello hello. Is this a requested description or a love letter? Legit don’t know but here goes…

Cock-versations || Major Robert “Rosie” Rosenthal edition 🥇

nsfw (AF!!) below the cut

General Remarks: let’s just start this off with some entirely accurate blanket statement like- “this is the prettiest cock in the 100th.” Yeah we could get in the weeds and start measuring everyone up to see if The Nazi Prosecutor and Legendary Pilot of 52 missions and the 100th’s beloved Step Dad(dy) Who Stepped tf Up is indeed the biggest, but like, why? Because what we know without that experiment (although Lordy, what an experiment that would be??) is that this man knows how to use what he’s got. And what he’s got is substantial. Must I go on to euphemize the whole “piloting a school bus like a fighter jet?”

Sordid Details: Rosie stands for something else besides shortening that name, ok? This color is like…like Monet specifically invented it for the perfect shade to paint his waterlily and for the gorgeous and graduated pink hues of Major Rosenthal’s cock leading to the impossibly wide mushroom head that’s situated on a very plush pink base that’s almost as wide as it is long and so is in danger of appearing mildly shorter at times? but that’s mostly an optical illusion due to the girth. Yes we said Gale is packing the perfect dildo cock but beauty is in the eye of the beholder and so at a certain point one must ask: for some of us, doesn’t a little individuality almost add to the beauty than subtract? Such is the case with the Rosie Cock, it’s just special enough you could pick it outta a lineup but it also doesn’t look so unforgettable as to be mistaken for an elephant trunk or a betting pencil.

For your endearing consideration: beyond being the prettiest color and the most deliciously sized appendage, this man also takes care in his appearance, those short and curlies are kept nice and trimmed for your ultimate sucking pleasure and the pubes are a little surprise in themselves as, rather like his mustache, they have dark roots but there’s a definite glint of ginger to them when you get them out into the bright sunlight or when the sun is really pouring into the window. So, your assignment is to 1. outdoor sex, romantic picnic or lounge chair by the pool it don’t matter just no fox hunting. 2. Let this man throw the covers off after a night of passion and then you yourself wake up early enough to survey the landscape of him, as it were, i swear the prettiness will take your breath away

A Note on the Wielder of the Weapon: back to the whole piloting a school bus like a fighter jet… He’s packing but he’s not a pummeling packing sorta guy like dear Egan who will bully his receivers into orgasms, or Cleven who will soberly and expertly dish them out like they are communion wafers to be reverently accepted. Rosie, no, see, he’s both generous and also -fun. He’s a dork, he laughs when he shouldn’t and trains in his underwear -but one of those times to laugh is sex!! a little levity never hurt sexy times and some of the most truly romantic sex is fond and giggly while also full of expertise, passion and hours and hours of this man wooing the fuck outta you like you’re not already signed sealed and delivered as his. This is the sorta man to be able to line up y’all’s eyes, noses and lips all while undulating like a damn dolphin at the hips.

Finesse, my friends, finesse.

Twinkle Toes aspect: such a fucking tease and a dork at times, as we’ve mentioned. Also between his crazy eyes and his lawyerly self assurance, this man has terrifying capabilities to turn his virtues into villainous weapons. See: gaslighting. He can make you feel nuts for thinking he’s teasing the fuck outta you when he’s just been sitting here with colleagues. (Honestly? This could get intense but that’s for a darker fic at another time.) But to keep it chill and more in character, let us just say you’ve gotta be ready to be wooed for hours on end, and that’s not for the faint of heart. Neither is being discreetly fingered in front of his prestigious associates at dinner or in the elevator. Because he does that, so subtle and yet so intense. He’s 100% a “feral for no panties under that skirt” kinda guy, all the house chores he so sexily helps out with also means he can hide your underwear like a pro just in time for an outing.

In short: he’s all about sex all the time, but not in the rabbit-like aspect of some of his fellows, doing dishes is a natural form of foreplay for this man, he understands the inner workings of arousal, it’s on his mind all the time but it doesn’t mean he’s doing it all the time, and in fact, this is one of the few men who could put it in you for a few strokes, bent over the hood of his Chrysler after dancing and drinks, only as a means to tease you and then put himself back in his trousers and drive home while you get so desperate you actually start calling him Daddy. -not in the modern weird way (no shade but it stands) but in that 40’s sorta way, (which has layers of its own).

If ya know, then ya know.

One more addendum: once he’s inside you, this man’s face displays every wondrous, anticipatory, contemplative and blissful emotion that is part of the orgasmic journey, he also cums an extraordinary amount, you’ll think he’s done at last and NOPE, here comes another rope of the thick stuff. Which means that after the frantic over-the-edge-first-wave-of-cumming bit, he’ll open his eyes again and smile down at you as he works the rest out in a more measured but very lethal way, if you’ve not cum yet or are about to again, this is when he gets you and it’s made so much worse/better because of all the hot and slick stuff he just deposited 🥰 also…humming

#masters of the air #rosie rosenthal #mota #mota asks #cock-versations #naughty sleepover #nate mann

[julesthequirky]

The Choice: Chapter Seven

All my work is purely aimed at those 18+ so minors kindly, DNI.

Summary: You find three of your favourite characters in your home. It shouldn’t be possible, but there they are. In the flesh. How the hell did they get there? And surely there’s a way to get them back? But as you get close to each one, the thought of sending them back proves difficult to comprehend.

Characters/Pairings: Fem!Reader, Dean, Beau and Ben (Soldier Boy)

Warnings: Language, typical Soldier Boy behaviour

W/C: 1,541

A/N: As you can see (for those who saw my post earlier) I have split the chapter into two. It wouldn't look right with all the chapters around the same and this one not.

A/N 2: Also it has crossed my attention that as much as you guys love these fics, please don't upload the ficpic to another social. I know none of the images are mine and you can decide to ignore my request, but it do 'make' them with the intent of them being uploaded solely by me. So far I've seen it on the pin board app.

Pulling yourself out of your reverie and ignoring the moisture between your legs, you located Dean in the hat section. He, of course, had on a cowboy hat and posing in front of the mirror.

“Lookin’ good, cowboy.”

Dean spun round with a sheepish grin on his face.

“You really think so?”

You nodded, reaching up on tiptoe, and angled the hat better. His green eyes bore into yours, and the moisture between your legs intensified. Those butterflies stormed your belly, causing a tingling to cover your entire body. Oh Lordy. Staring into his eyes had your brain short-circuiting.

“I love Westerns.”

“I know.” You replied as you moved your hands away.

His lips curved into a smile, which didn’t help the fluttering in your stomach. The Stetson he wore blocked off the surroundings, forcing you to focus only on him. You noticed how green his eyes could get, how the freckles speckled across his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. You noticed the 5 o’clock shadow across his jaw and chin, the slight crook in his smile and just how pink his lips were.

Caught in his gaze, your heart beat just that little bit faster, and it ached just that little bit harder for the hunter.

“What d’ya think?”

You blinked and tried pulling words from your mushy, in-love brain.

“I think you should get it.”

He nodded and took the hat off.

The rush of Boot Barn came surging back. For a moment, you’d forgotten where and what you were doing. It was silly, silly schoolgirl feelings. Feelings you should push aside, but they just managed to get in the way.

A tap on your shoulder had you whirling around. It was just Beau with the boots and a selection of jackets.

“I couldn’t decide. Could you help?”

You nodded and took the jackets from him. All three were indicative of Beau’s style in Big Sky—black denim with a faux fur lining, tanned suede with a fur collar, and a typical blue denim jacket.

“I can’t decide either. I bet they’d all look great on you though.”

Beau blushed as he smiled, exactly the way Denise had complimented Beau in the first episode of season three. Dean, Beau and Ben shared this smile, and you had Jensen to thank for that.

“Darlin’ you say any more, and I’ma go redder than a farmer’s neck in the middle of summer.”

Damn that Texan. You gave him the jackets back and reached on tippy toe for a light brown Stetson. He ducked a little bit, allowing you to place it atop his head.

“There. It suits you.”

Beau’s face and neck went redder than a farmer in the middle of summer, leaving him speechless.

You clapped him on his shoulder and turned, only to be immediately put in a dour mood. Ben leant against the store’s wall, sweet-talking a female employee. Your heart whomped in your chest, emotion making it tighten. You weren’t sure why, but it felt like rejection.

The female employee smiled in Ben’s direction, giving him all her attention, twirling hair around her finger. Jealousy stabbed at you hard. Fuck him.

Ben turned his head to see you looking. He smirked and turned his attention back to the female employee. Instead of storming over there, you turned on your heel and went straight to the cashier with Beau and Dean.

*

At Walmart, you picked up a few plain colour t-shirts, Wrangler jeans, underwear, and socks for all three. Dean picked out a few flannels, as did Beau. Ben wandered around, trying to get your attention, and the petty person inside of you gave him the cold shoulder.

“You can’t be mad at me forever.”

You said nothing, moving the cart by some graphic t-shirts. Dean placed a set of two pyjamas, a long dressing gown, and a pair of slippers into the cart. Ben still had clothes to find besides the bare basics you had picked up.

Reaching out, you picked up a t-shirt with an American Eagle with the flag behind it. Patriotic. Sure, it was stereotypical, but honestly, you had no idea what he would wear. You pulled the t-shirt off the rack and brought it to Ben’s chest. He pulled a face at being treated like a child, but he wasn’t helping. You threw the T-shirt into the cart. Ben fished it back out, annoyance etching his face, and picked up a size bigger. Right. He was jacked. You’d forgotten that with the extra muscles, he would need a size larger than Beau and Dean.

You pushed the cart further, but Ben stood in front, gripping the metal, stopping you.

“I saw you when I was talking to that woman. You were jealous.”

You scowled and pushed against him, trying to ram the cart past, but all it did was jam one of the front wheels.

“Admit it, Y/N. You were jealous.”

Your scowl deepened. Ben wasn’t going anywhere, it seemed. Not until he got the truth from you. To evade him, you went to roll the cart backwards. The metal creaked in his hands. The cart wouldn’t budge.

“We’re not going anywhere until you admit it.”

“Why? So you can feel smug with yourself?”

Ben moved from the front of the cart to you. The metal had warped where he had held it, bending under the pressure of his hands. He stood tall, clearly using his height against you. You strained your neck, looking up. A dumb smirk sat on his face.

“Maybe it will make me smug, or maybe I’m trying to prove something to myself.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion.

“Like what?”

“Doll, what makes you think I’ll tell you before you admit to me your jealousy?”

Your scowl came back.

“I wasn’t jealous.”

He snorted with laughter. “Yeah, and I’m a virgin.”

You moved the cart, but he stopped you, again putting his hand on the cart.

“Sweetcheeks, just admit it.”

It was embarrassing to admit. Your pride made you too stubborn to admit. Your hands tightened on the bar. He tested you. on purpose. For what reason? Probably to find out if it would make you jealous or not. Well, it did, and he was probably right. But you weren’t gonna tell him that.

“Just pick out some damn clothes.”

Ben laughed. That deep booming laugh and walked away, allowing you some time for yourself. He knew how to push the right buttons. He knew how to get under your skin. Was that a good thing? Your ex couldn’t even begin to scrape the surface.

You followed as Ben wandered around the clothing section of Walmart. He grabbed some grey sweatpants and undershirt tank tops and threw them into the cart.

“You’re such an old man…” You muttered.

Ben turned around, throwing you a dirty look. Seems he didn’t appreciate that comment. Who wore undershirts in this day and age? Nobody you knew, that was for sure. He had only picked out a handful of clothes. Guess he didn’t need much.

You found Dean and Beau trying on boots. They were laughing together, doing impressions of someone. You didn’t get it until Dean lowered his voice, made himself look all serious and barked out:

“I fart the star spangled banner!”

Of course, it was a perfect imitation. Beau collapsed with a fit of laughter. Behind you, however, was another matter. You turned and collided with Ben. He huffed and snorted, nostrils flaring like a bull preparing to charge. You pressed your hand to his chest. Fuck, it was hot.

“Fuck you, you bendy legged fuckface!”

He stepped forward, forcing you back. You pressed a hand to his chest again.

“Please, Ben. He was only messing. He didn’t mean anything by it.”

Ben huffed, hands curled into tight fists. He didn’t care that he was in public, but you did. He took another step closer, again forcing you to step back.

“Watch your mouth.” Ben warned and walked off, presumably to cool off.

You stared after him, calling his name until you could no longer see him. It frustrated you at how sensitive the Supe was. It seemed he could give it but couldn’t take it.

“Jeez, he can’t take a joke, can he?”

You swiped a hand down your face and turned to Dean and Beau.

“Y’know, I was kinda hoping that since you both have a nice friendship thing going, that Ben would join in and have the same.”

Beau sat on the stool, looked at Dean and then at you.

“Darlin’…”

Honestly, you didn’t wanna hear it.

“Tell me you were only messing around, D?”

Dean sighed.

“Yeah, I was just messing around.”

But from his tone, you could tell he was lying. An array of emotions pained you, but disappointment was the biggest one that fatigued you. You had expected better of him and Beau.

“I’m gonna go look for him.”

Dean stood, moving the shoebox out of his way, before stepping to you.

“Y/N, c’mon…I was only messing around.”

“Oh, yeah? Who else did you impersonate? Or was it only Ben?”

“He does a really good Yogi bear impression.” Beau piped up, not helping at all.

“I know!” You snapped, storming off.

Tags: @yvonneeeee, @curlycarley, @angelbabyyy99, @sassy-pelican, @k-slla, @deans-spinster-witch, @ashdoctor, @eretsupremacy89, @fanfic-n-tabulous, @deans-number-one-fan, @afro-hispwriter, @justjensenandhisalteregos, @tiredstrangerr, @zemosdarling228.

#The Choice #julesthequirky's fics #spn fanfic #reader insert #dean winchester #soldier boy #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x y/n #the boys #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #soldier boy x reader #beau arlen x you #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x female reader #big sky #beau arlen #crossover fic

[wingedjellyfishflight]

Hogtied: Part 4

You're surprised the next day to see all of the men sitting at breakfast as though nothing is wrong. You sit with them, trying not to make it obvious that you are checking their injuries, only to look directly in Ghost's eyes when you try to casually glance over.

"We're fine, Luv. Be off for a while for recovery, but we are fine." You huff at him. "You know I worry about all of you. Especially with not being able to do the work myself. Bit of a control freak, I suppose."

Soap grins, "never woulda guessed you liked being in charge, hen. Coulda fooled me." You roll your eyes and turn back to your plate, happy they are in good spirits.

You ask them their plans for the day, but they don't have any beyond relaxing in front of the telly. With a nod, you agree with that. "Lunch is on me, then. Already owe the Captain butter chicken, anyway. I will set up an order, just call in what you want and they'll deliver it." Every set of eyes near you is suddenly laser focused. "Umm... I ate his butter chicken, and he caught me with it."

"Lordy, ye dinnae?!" At your nod, the men around you all start talking at once.

"I told him I would replace it, and he let me eat. But good god, you lot need to clean out that fridge more often. I went through so many gross leftovers trying to find something edible." Ghost smirks.

"Who's leftovers were you going to try first?" Your eye twitches as you contemplate if you should lie or start running, and you see his eye zero in on it.

"Nae, ye dinnae! Ye dinnae!"

"Shut up, Soap! It was yours, Ghost. I figured you ordered the best food, so I checked yours first!" With that, you stand up and run from the hall, Ghost leaping up to chase after you. You duck into a closing door just to the right of the dining hall and sprint to the other end, barely making it around the corner before he is onto you. He wraps his arms around your waist and throws you over his shoulder. "The food was bad! I binned it! I didn't even eat your food!"

"You tried to take it, that's guilty enough for me." He carries you to the rec room with the rest of the men are waiting and tosses you gently on a couch. "As punishment for raiding our fridge, you have to sit and watch movies with us."

"Can I at least go get my book?" You knew the answer, and he knew you knew, so he ignored you. "Fine, but I deserve the option to nap if you pick something shite."

"What do you mean by that? We don't pick shite."

"Time Traveler's Wife. We all cried over it, and if I find out who picked it... never getting numbing before stitches again!" Laughter spread around the room at your rant.

"Then what is your favorite one," asked Soap.

"Something with explosions, maybe some angst, oh a holiday movie! Die Hard. Die Hard is good." The whole room groaned. That was always your go-to answer.

"Doc, I know that ain't your favorite. C'mon, I know you hate personal questions, but ya gotta at least tell us your favorite movie on movie day." You shift uncomfortably on the couch and shrink into your, no König's hoodie a bit.

"I... umm... I like Gladiator. It's one of the only ones that I re-watch." The men are quiet at your answer, and Ghost squeezes your shoulder gently.

"Gladiator up first then." You rest your hand on his briefly with a small smile. Ghost and Soap flop down on either side of you, squeezing you between them. The movie starts, and you sit forward on the couch, nervous. Ghost leans forward and tugs you back, pulling you to lean against his side. "You can nap if you want to, but relax. You've been anxious since before we left."

"I could tell this mission was going to be a doozy. I hate being right." You watch the entire movie, relaxing against him with his hand rubbing your back gently.

When it ends, you sit up and stretch, glancing over and seeing Soap sleeping with his head tipped oddly. You stand carefully and readjust him, so he is sitting more comfortably. When you get back from peeing and grabbing a drink, you see that he has taken over most of the couch, leaving no room next to Ghost, who also looks like he is about to nod off.

When you edge back toward the door, Ghost wags his finger at you, so you look for an open seat. Your eyes alight on König, sprawled across a smaller couch by himself.

"Budge up a bit. Soap kicked me out of the cuddle pile." He chuckles and moves his leg to let you sit down.

"We make our own cuddle pile then." He lifts his arm so you can lay against his chest. The next movie is one you haven't seen yet. You only make it about halfway through before falling asleep. The smell of Indian food wakes you up. When you go to sit up, König's arm tightens around you, holding you against him as he sleeps. You debate pushing free, but opt to relax against him, falling back asleep. When you wake next, your body is sore from the shit couch, but you feel cocooned in warmth. Rubbing your face deeper into the warm has it moving away as König gently sits you up. As soon as he lets go, you press against him again.

"So warm... safe..." You feel his body melt against yours.

"Sorry, König. Should've warned ya that she is a level ten clingy cuddler when she falls asleep. Can't pry her off until she's actually awake."

"My back hurts," he says in response. That's all you need to wake up. You sit up, concerned.

"Has it been hurting all day or just since I came over? Can you wiggle your toes? Is there any numbness?" He just stares at your full 180 attitude while Ghost groans.

"The only thing that can get her to stop cuddling: Doctor Mode. Never mention a health issue if you want cuddles, bruv. She can't switch it off hardly at all."

"Do you have-?" König rearranges himself to lay on his back and tug you into his chest.

"Relax, Schatz. I am fine. We will watch more movies together." You relax against him again.

It only lasts a few minutes before you hear thrashing and yelling. You scramble up and see Soap fighting in his sleep. Everyone is standing well back, but Ghost looks torn. You push through the crowd and dodge Ghost's arms to carefully climb in Soap's lap, wrapping your arms around his torso to act as a stabilizer. You try to dodge his wild thrashing, feeling his fist clip your face as you move close to him. You tuck your face into the crook of his neck to keep him from hitting you again and begin singing quietly to him.

"Can ye no hush your weepin'

All the wee lambs are sleepin'

Birdies are nestlin' nestlin' together

Dream Angus is hirplin' oer the heather

Dreams to sell, fine dreams to sell

Angus is here wi' dreams to sell

Hush ye my baby and sleep without fear

Dream Angus has brought you a dream my dear.

List' to the curlew cryin'

Faintly the echos dyin'

Even the birdies and the beasties are sleepin'

But my bonny bairn is weepin' weepin'"

Slowly, Soap calms, and you are able to relax your hold. He cries silently into your shoulder as you sing the lullaby through a second time. You pull back and rest a hand on his cheek. "Are ye alright noo, laddie?" He nods, laying his hand over yours. "Good, because I need to make sure you didn't tear anything up."

He growls and doesn't let loose your hand, staring at your face. "First ye'll tell me where ye git yon blue keeker."

"Ghost skelped me. Said I was too mouthy during the film." You pull your hand back with a grin and scoot back in his lap to tug up his shirt, checking that he hasn't popped any stitches.

"Dinnae be telling me havers."

"Ah wud never tell ye havers. Ahm a saint of a Catholic." Laughter bursts around the room, many knowing you were not Catholic at all and having heard many lies come from you to protect them or convince them to do something they hate.

"Ye dinnae have it when scran was here. Ye were sleepin on yon big yin." You shrug and glance over at the food.

"Well, ye look bonnie." You stand with Ghost's help, the grumble of your tummy making him chuckle.

"Go eat, luv. We got him from here."

"Ghost, did you hit the wee doctor? I ken ye dinnae, but-"

"English, Bubbles. And if she said I did, then I must have. The doctor is a saint of a Catholic, after all." Soap sputters, unable to form any words.

Walking over to the table, you spot your food, König's and... the Captain's. He didn't come get it. You huff and carry it to his office, knocking firmly.

"Enter," Captain Price's voice floats through the door. Opening it, you see he is in a meeting with another man.

"Sir, you didn't grab your lunch, so I figured I would deliver it." He nods his thanks and gestures for you to bring it to him.

"Since when are delivery drivers allowed to bring food directly to you? And when did they start dressing so terribly?" You glance down at the hoodie draped over you and open your mouth to respond. Captain's voice cuts you off.

"Sir, this is the doctor I was speaking about. It is merely her day off." He somehow balances censure of the other man with respect in a way that has you in awe of his skill.

"Hmph. In my day, women were expected to dress up for the men around them, on duty or off." You bristle, and Captain tries to intervene again.

"We do not police what the men wear on their days off. We certainly won't with the women we work alongside. Now-"

"I'm just saying female doctors need to have a little self-respect and demand enough respect to be obeyed by the men." Price could not be fast enough to silence your barked laughter.

"Sir, with all due respect, the men don't care at all what I am wearing as long as I am fixing their injuries. This hoodie you are so dismissive of is but a sign of the respect of the men. I wonder, how would you convince a heavily muscled, 16 stone man to submit to having the mask removed that he considers part and parcel to who he is? One that less than a dozen living men have seen under since he first donned it."

He snorts and says, "Enough orderlies will force any man to submit to anything."

"And thusly you have destroyed any and all trust that man has in you or the medical profession. I have convinced that man, peacefully, to remove his mask. Built up trust over time to convince him and many others to give a full and unabridged medical history by allowing them the right to privacy. Hell, I have convinced a prisoner that came here hogtied due to how dangerous he was to not only allow me to treat him without needing restraints but to allow the removal of his mask. That man has become one of our greatest assets, in part, due to the respect afforded to him, which started in the medical bay. So, to hear you say that brute force and dressing pretty are the only two ways to gain respect around here is not just inappropriate but sets a dangerous precedent for the men we serve. Such a precedent, I will not allow to take root in my clinic." Silence fills the room after you finish speaking. The man turns to Price.

"I'm convinced. Promotion approved." He signs a piece of paper on the desk. Captain grins at your stunned and confused face.

"Agreed. That was quite a moving statement, Major. Soon to be Lieutenant Colonel, I suppose." Your eyes narrow in suspicion as you look back and forth between them.

"Sir, am I to be expected to leave and work in a different facility, then? If so, I do not want this promotion."

"You'll have to go where assigned, doc. That's above my paygrade to influence."

"Yes, and your opinion on a promotion doesn't matter. If you are promoted, you will work where assigned until the end of your contract."

"I won't leave my men. It would take many steps back. It was jokingly mentioned not long ago, and they nearly mutinied."

"They will get over it." The man seems smug, and it is ticking you off something fierce.

"That's fine then, Captain. I am sure my parents will be thrilled to hear that I no longer wish to work for the military."

He winces, "Now, doll. There's no reason to go involving your parents. I'm sure we can work something out."

"Parents? The military does not care bout the opinions of parents." He scoffs at your threat.

"They do when they have money and political favors. Captain, I will do everything in my power to stay, including sabotaging a promotion. If you force my hand, I will find a way out rather than have to start over somewhere else. Please, do not push me on this, I love working here."

You are begging at this point. Leaving your men would be devastating. You've tried to stay under the radar ever since finding out that promotions mean leaving, even to the point of refusing to record the advanced training and techniques you have taken and the ones you have pioneered.

"I understand, Major. We will discuss this further later." You know a dismissal when you hear it.

"Yes, sir."

The next thing you know, you are back in the rec room, sitting in front of your food. Ghost appears at your side and nudges you gently.

"What happened, Luv?"

"I got promoted, I think. Maybe."

"Woo-"

"Shut up. It isn't a good thing."

"Why not? You are moving from Major to Lieutenant Corporal! That is great! They've been ignoring you for too long." He starts to stand, and you drag him back down.

"If I get promoted, I have to leave. I-i won't be here anymore. That's why I've been hiding from it."

"Oh," he says as he settles back in. "You've been avoiding more money and shit to stay with us? But why?" You nod and shove a piece of food in your mouth, trying to get a bit of time to think.

"I just... I really love working with you guys. It's exactly the job I wanted since I had to be a doctor. Working with adrenaline junkies who save the world, ya know?" You sigh and lean against his shoulder. "I really like the relationships I've built here. You guys are respectful and kind. Female officers don't usually much respect."

He rubs your arm gently. "Heard and understood, luv. We will figure this out together, then. Eat up, and we can watch another movie before dinner."

You wake up later sandwiched between Ghost and Soap on the couch, each wrapped around you somehow. Your last thought before falling asleep again is the way this feels like home.

The next week, Captain Price sets a meeting with you. When you tell Ghost, he immediately wants to go with you. Despite turning him down every time and refusing to tell him when, he catches the closing door and silently stands behind your chair. The Captain stares at him for a long moment before opting to ignore him completely.

"I've arranged this meeting to discuss your upcoming promotion and what it means for you and the men."

"I understand, sir. I can have the files updated and ready for transfer in about two weeks. I will need to meet one on one with each man to ensure the transferred files meet with his approval based on the policy in effect." Captain Price looks surprised.

"You don't intend to pass on the full histories to a replacement?"

"No, I am afraid they will be accidentally dropped into a paper shredder, and there will be an incident with a small bin fire just off base. Quite unfortunate, but not preventable." You keep your gaze passive and meet the Captain's own look evenly. "I will ensure that the approved files do not meet with such an end. I will also endeavor to provide a full list of the procedures and techniques that we have pioneered under my command so that there is consistency for the men. They do so hate change."

"I hope the former will not be necessary, and I implore you to implement the latter. As an aside, in speaking further with the RAMC, we have come to an agreement for you to stay here at this post indefinitely. It was deemed necessary to current and future missions to maintain consistency in medical care. I was asked to pass on a message: All doctors are required to record their advanced training and education, and thus, it is expected that you will update your records accordingly. I believe that covers everything." His grave face suddenly breaks into a smirk, just as you begin crying with joy.

"Thank you, Captain! Thank you!" He stands and moves around his desk to wrap you in a hug.

"You did good, doll. I am so proud of the work you have done, and now it will be recognized by everyone else." He smiles down at you and presses a kiss to your forehead. "Now, please do those updates. I called in some big favors and made some promises to work this out." All you can do is nod before you are pulled from the Captain and crushed against Ghost's chest.

"Woohoo! You're staying with us, luv!" He drags you to the door with a bare minimum of respect for Captain Price, refusing to let you stop and say goodbye. "Time to go tell everyone. We will have a party!"

"I've never seen you so excited for anything, Ghost. Slow down, I'm gonna trip!" He huffs playfully but slows down.

"I wanted to get you out of there before the Captain decided he needed to address what you so casually stated, but it is exciting to keep you on. I have been trying to decide how to break into your office for those files for the last week." You stop and frown.

"Don't do that. It would be dangerous to try to steal them." He cocks an eyebrow. "Yes, dangerous. You seriously don't think all I have protecting them are a few flimsy filing cabinet locks after how long it took to get that information. There is life and death information in them. I called in a few favors to build a security system of sorts for it."

"That's... that's sexy as hell, luv. You are one loyal woman." He stares down at you for several long moments, starting when someone clears a throat a little ways away.

"Sorry to break up the party. I heard you had your meeting today. How did it go?" König asks innocently, making you glare at Ghost.

"You weren't supposed to tell anyone!" He holds his hands up in surrender, backing away.

"I was pretty sure you weren't leaving, promotion or not. We just want to celebrate with you."

"Ghost! Lech mich am Arsch! Bastardo! Schluckspecht!"

"Come, mein Schatz. It is good that we celebrate now. You are staying, and we do not have to stage a rebellion." König picks you up as though you are just a child, carrying you away from a laughing Ghost even as you yell more insults. You want to fight away from him, but you can't stop from pressing closer. You can barely stop yourself from nuzzling against his shoulder. It takes a minute then for you to realize that he has turned away from the rec room, which is where you're sure the party is supposed to be.

"König, where are you taking me?" You catch your traitorous fingers rubbing at the back of his neck under the mask. "Sorry."

"I like your hands on me, meine Prinzessin. I wanted to talk to you without prying eyes and ears..." You rub your fingers against his collarbone through his shirt. "Yes, I like that." You blush and lean forward, stopping just in front of his lips. He cups the back of your head, closing the distance and kissing you through his mask.

You feel your back pressed against a wall and hear the jingle of keys. König has brought you to his quarters. He carries you in, kicking the door shut and locking it. Laying you on the bed, he says, "Tell me what you want, Schatz. I need to know."

"I want this, König. I want you. Bitte." He quickly strips off his clothes and mask, giving you space to do the same.

"Gut. I will fuck you, then I will take you to the party as meine Prinzessin... if you can walk." He chuckles as he climbs on the bed, pushing your legs up and laying his cock against your stomach. "It will be a tight fit. Might take all night to loosen up you up." He is excited, talking fast and teasing you with his fingers already.

"Promise?" Your question is loaded, but he nods happily.

"Yes, Prinzessin. You will take the whole thing before the night is over. I will make sure of it." He leans down close to your ear, "I will make you mine forever."

#konig x reader #könig x reader #call of duty #cod smut #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #captain john price

[emo-batboy]

Fan pages on Twitter with Bruce are making me think of one thing. Kpop Twitter. Do u think they would be making fancams of him too? Photocards? Posters? Buying 10 copies of vogue just for different cover with him?

*takes off glasses* now I cannot reveal the secrets of my Twitter au BUT you came to the right person :DD

NOW CONSIDER

BRUCE WAYNE AS A FORMER MODEL (idk if this has been done before with Battinson? Let me know so I can read it)

So maybe Bruce did some covers for a business magazine in his late teens or early 20’s and it went really well!!

a few luxury brands asked if this fresh-faced Bruce Wayne would consider being an ambassador. Maybe a brand of watches, suits, sunglasses, something business-like or old money

He agrees to work with some suit company cuz his dad loves the brand and he likes them too now

This earns him his first ever taste of A-List Celeb Status. He is on the cover of magazines, not just business and fashion: Gossip magazines. Tabloids. People recognize him and want his autograph. Paparazzi follow him to lunch dates with friends.

They want to know his favorite color, cereal brand, ice cream flavor, and not because they want to be billionaires like him (poor little nepo baby) but because they love him so much they want to know every little detail of his life.

He is given the title of heartthrob over and over again (and I mean look at him, ofc he is)

He despises it with every cell in his body.

BUT he keeps working for this one luxury tailor brand until his contract ends. Maybe two or three years?

He has a good relationship with them, still. Wears their suits mostly, recommends it to friends if they need a new one. But he’s decided it’s not for him anymore.

Now. Every year, during New York Fashion Week, Bruce is invited to walk in their show. (This brand gives all of their ambassadors the opportunity.) Sometimes, he says yes. Sometimes, he doesn’t.

He refuses for a few years (during his vengeance era) until Bruce Wayne changes and decides to make more appearances. NY Fashion Week comes around, and Bruce returns for one (1) show.

Oh lordie the stans

They arrive in droves

EVERYBODY AND THEIR MOTHER SEES THE CLIP OF BRUCE WAYNE WALKING AT THE FASHION SHOW!!

He tears up that fucking runway! He’s a seasoned veteran of course he does

THE BRAND BEGS BRUCE TO COME BACK

And ya know what?

He says yes

Cuz he wants to be personable, likable, approachable, a role model (no pun intended)

His bitterness is slowly dissipating, and he’s grown stronger after the stress of his early 20’s and the hatred of his late 20’s. He’s an Adult TM who can handle it.

This is when he learns about the new emergence of stan culture :)

The edits are EVERYWHERE

Some are from his new collections and looks

Others are made up of early 2010’s Bruce Wayne

Imagine like those sparkly ones with cute music in the background and it’s just Bruce smiling

(And then there’s the thirst trap ones, you know those one)

Pretty boy billionaire Bruce Wayne and his army of fans could declare a nation. They’re your cousin, your friend, your teacher, your goddamn accountant.

Old posters from Tiger Beat 2009 go up on eBay for thousands of dollars

And those old “vintage” fashion magazines where he’s on the cover, those could cost you rent

Bruce walks some new shows and agrees to pose for some magazines (fashion AND business, among others)

Vogue offers him the cover, which he accepts

They run out of stock.

(How is that even possible?)

Fancams of him walking down the street and attending press conferences crop up? That’s what surprises him the most.

He is still very camera shy but the more he gets to know the regular fansites, he feels more comfortable waving and talking to them. (And hopefully they don’t suspect a thing. PLEASE don’t suspect a thing.)

There are a lot of events where they’re not allowed in but if it’s a public event, they will be there

(There are some creepy ones tho, and Alfred handles them accordingly) (with a call to the police) (and occasionally a hose)

It’s fun tho, allows Brucie Wayne, Billionaire Nepo Baby Extraordinaire, to become separate from his nightly persona

This is how Bruce becomes very familiar with Stan Twitter

But he still refuses to make an account for his own sanity

It’s for the best

#bruce wayne #battinson #batman #the batman 2022 #the batman #batman 2022 #model au #battinson is a model #WHAT IF ya know???? #I really wish I could put like 50 photos in this post but I can’t

[jhoneybees]

Stutter

Lordy lord☝️

Hehehe another fic! This one is a John Carpenter fic and I hope you enjoy it!! I was watching the 'Change of Habit', movie yesterday and thought he's such a nice man😮‍💨 and here's a fun fact about me if anyone is interested is that I have a stutter! The reader in this fic has one as well! It's a pain in the a- @hooked-on-elvis for the tags !!

My brain is finally cooperating with me again but I don't wanna jinx it 🫣 And I'm sorry that a lot of my fics include crying, I just can't get enough of crying comfort fics😭

Characters: John Carpenter X stuttering!reader

Warnings/triggers: Doctor clinics, stuttering, crying

_____________________________________________

This week hasn't been going smoothly for you, and it’s all your stutter’s fault. One thing you couldn’t spit words out when a couple of ladies were asking you for directions to the nearest post office and then when you had to call the dentist to make an appointment, it tied your damn words down. It’s absolute torture and you were so fed up with it. You've had this speech impediment for as long as you can remember and everyday you wish it would just disappear, out of your life, away from your worries but you had to learn that it's only fair for each individual to have their own problems in their lives but you still thought about that wish of yours. Sometimes…Well daily it makes you cry thinking about how hard it is to deal with.

Something that helps your stutter though is John, John Carpenter, your beloved boyfriend. He's always been there for you whenever you want to pour all your concerns out, about anything your brain can think of. He’d always listen and you couldn't ask for any other guy than him, he's all you need. Just someone who would look past your evidently painful stutter and just patiently waits for your next words. He knows about your stutter and understands how hard it can be because he often works with people with problems like this and he has told you several times if you want help, he is always there but you just think John has enough on his plate of taking care of himself and his patients so having his girlfriend to take care of as well? In your brain it seems like it's too much for him. Yes John is a doctor and that’s his job to take care of others but oh you couldn't possibly burn your wonderful hard-working boyfriend out, you really couldn't bother him with your problems even though he wouldn’t mind at all and would be happy to help.

One afternoon, as you were sitting on the couch those worrying thoughts were constantly circling your mind and you just wanted them to go away so you decided to go to John's clinic for a visit, to get your mind off things.

As you arrive and open the door into the foyer, you peer through the window of the clinic door to see John talking to a patient, who you think is the last one for the day. Quietly you turn the door knob and make your way inside. John notices you walk in so he says goodbye to the patient and waves a hand to gesture for you to follow him. Taking you to his office for some privacy. “How's my girl doing hm?” he asks as he watches you close the door and hang your purse up on the cloak stand. You hum softly “Good, b-been good” silently sitting down on a chair opposite from his, brushing a strand behind your ear. John smiles, “Busy week?” You shake your head and lift your eyes up to look at his “N-no, p-pretty quiet this week…I-I- I didn't have a lot on my sched-..schedule” nodding his head he hums in response. “Aren't ya lucky… been crazy busy in the clinic this week” he sighs and snickers to himself.

You smile small and giggle slightly “Mhm, a-alot of..of- of sick people?” asking in a quiet tone. John chuckles “injured, mostly injured” nodding as your eyes trail down to the papers on his desk, the troubling thoughts crawling back into your head. “Mhm…” John's smile returns and his eyebrows furrow a little. “Something on your mind honey?” your eyes dart back up into his and you laugh nervously and brush it off “Oh no..N-no just- just tired ‘s all” giving him a small smile before you go back to your zoned out state. With his ankle resting on his knee and leaning back in his chair and his hand wiping under his nose, he watches you quietly. Seeing your eyes sadden and your arms resting at your sides, presuming you were twiddling with your thumbs under the table. “Ya sure you're tired?” Earning a silent nod. He stays silent for a few moments, continuing to watch as you sulk. “You don't look tired..” he states, you breathe in briefly and look at him “John, I am just tir-...” he raises an eyebrow making you sigh. “Fine I'm not tired” your posture slouches. John breathes out “What's ya thinking about baby?” tilting his head to the side, his eyes staying glued to your face. Looking down at your lap, you bite your lip gently “M-my…my s-s-stut-” you huff out being so sick of it, John nodding slowly “Take your time honey” you take in a deep breath and slowly break down the word “stut..ter, stutter”

It’s embarrassing, making tears well up in your eyes and you shyly wipe your nose. your breath trembling, “I-its annoying…it- it really is'' John's face softens and he leans his body closer, resting his arms on the desk. Humming softly, he listens as you tell him your woes. “I'm sick of it…s-so sick of it” your breath hitching quietly before an unexpected sob escapes your mouth.

“Aw honey…” you bury your face into your hands. John gets up from his chair and walks around his desk, shifting your chair to face him as he kneels on one knee. Clicking his tongue and prying your hands away to cup your cheeks. His eyes move from one eye to your other as you pitifully cry.

“I-it’s so annoying! E-every t-time I try to speak..i-it won’t let me!” you sniffle, John nods and hums then a small grin grows on his face “You’re speaking right now” he raises an eyebrow and snickers softly, you gently swat his shoulder “I meant speaking clearly!” you exclaim making John laugh louder “M’sorry I know what you mean darling, I know” his hands rest on your knees, caressing with his thumbs. You wipe your tears away with the back of your hands, sniffling one last time. John smiles “Want a hug?” he asks as he holds his arms out, you accept. Both standing up “ It really is a pain isn’t it?” he sighs, you nod quietly as you rest your head on his chest and wrap your arms around his waist.

John sighs again and kisses the top of your head, rubbing your back soothingly. Staying quiet for a while before John speaks up “Would a lollipop make you feel better?” to which you agree “mhm…” Pulling away, John walks back around to open a drawer to pick out a lollipop for him to walk back, holding it in front of you “Here..” you shyly take the sweet and attempt to open the wrapper, frowning in frustration. John shakes his head and chuckles again “I’ll get it” taking the lollipop out of your hand and with ease, he unwraps it. “Thank you” you say quietly. Pecking your forehead lightly, John admires you with love in his eyes.

“it’ll get better through time”

#elvis #elvis presley #elvis fans #70s elvis #60s elvis #elvis imagine #elvis presley x reader #i love him #change of habit #elvis fanfiction #elvis fandom

[leslie-lyman]

i cannot get you close enough [alpha!Max Phillips x omega!fem!reader]

[title from the Florence + the Machine song “100 Years”]

summary:

“You have to invite me in, sweetheart.”

Oh. Right. Vampire.

“Come in, please,” you say demurely, and Max’s smile widens as he steps over the threshold into your apartment. He reaches for you again immediately, kicking your door closed and pulling you close.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. “Such a polite little Omega.”

rating: E 🚨 (you must be at least 18 years old to read/interact with this fic or anything else on my blog)

warnings: oh lordy, here we go. A/B/O dynamics; one small scene of men being creepy and threatening towards reader (but, perhaps surprisingly, one of those men is not Max); extremely self-indulgent Halloween costumes on the part of your author; a bit of angst; fEeLiNgS; absolutely way too much plot and character backstory for what was supposed to just be porn; Alpha!Max is his own warning; heat sex; biting; blood-drinking; breeding kink; many, many creampies; Max has an absolutely filthy mouth; look, it’s heat sex with Max, it probably (hopefully?) entails exactly what you think it does

word count: 12.4K. You heard me.

a/n: HAPPY (belated, forgive me) BIRTHDAY @ezrasbirdie!!!!!! This one’s for you, babe. Thank you for encouraging me to finally write down my alpha!Max idea and for always being the most supportive, wonderful, amazing friend. I love you to bits and hope you had the loveliest of birthdays. ❤️❤️❤️ also thank you to @whataperfectwasteoftime for being my sounding board while I worked on this and for willingly subjecting yourself to increasingly unhinged screenshots of snippets of heat sex as I wrote them.

Masterlist. Taglist.

———

You meet Max on his very first day.

Water cooler gossip had preceded him:

He’s the youngest person in company history to be made a Senior Director of Sales.

He really turned around a failing branch in Albuquerque, if you know what I mean, and now he’s being brought in here to HQ.

He’s a vampire.

He’s an Alpha.

“A sales guy, a vampire, and an Alpha? Sounds like this guy won the douchebag lottery,” Morgan, your closest work friend, murmurs to you over lunch one day after overhearing some of your colleagues gossiping about the impending new addition to the sales team.

You snort into your salad, fiddling with the silver bracelet on your right wrist - a subconscious tick you did whenever your conversation involved talk of an Alpha.

“Well for better or worse, at least we have lots of experience dealing with men like that around here,” you reply. And lord knows you did.

The company was full of men like that, especially here in its New York headquarters. Men who swaggered around, cocksure and confident whether it was warranted or not (it usually wasn’t), hitting on female subordinates and superiors alike (though there were unfortunately few of the latter).

And good god, the smell. Most Alphas, in your experience, smelled like they’d recently emerged from a dunk tank filled with Axe body spray. It was a scent that pushed its way into your sinuses and took up residence like a squatter, overwhelming and nausea-inducing.

But most Alphas, in your experience, also overlooked you. Why should they give you, a Beta, any more than a glance, when they could otherwise be chasing some poor unmated Omega? And you were glad of it, the Alphas you encountered in your workplace and out in the world rarely giving you more than a passing leer and a sniff before they realized you gave off no scent of your own and moving on.

You can’t imagine trying to navigate through life if they knew the truth: that you were an Omega. You just went to great lengths to hide it.

Modern suppressants worked wonders, acting as birth control while keeping your Omega subdued and limiting your heats to two miserable weekends a year. But pills alone could not hide what you were entirely. The delicate silver chain around your wrist did the rest, the unassuming metal imbued with a powerful charm that erased all outward evidence of your designation, making your Omega undetectable to the senses of others. An old-fashioned relic from a time long before the invention of suppressants, handed down across many generations of your mother’s family.

Apart from your heats, you never took it off, and were grateful for it every day. You were content to make your own quiet — if often lonely — way in the world, confident that if someone ever were to take notice of you, they’d do so because of who you are, not what you are.

And you were comforted by the knowledge that Max Phillips, whoever and whatever he was, would leave you be just like every other Alpha you’ve met, and be none the wiser.

Max’s boss, Hector, an older vampire, brings him by your division as part of an introductory tour on his first morning. You’d been prepared for the perfunctory handshake and sly, flirty grin he gives you as you tell him your name.

“Nice to meet you, Max.”

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine, sweetheart,” he responds in that overly confident, borderline-inappropriate way typical of both Alphas and salesmen.

You had not been prepared for how handsome he is. The smooth, sharp cut of his jawline looks like it could cut glass. His strong nose is slightly hooked, but it only enhances his features, rather than detracts from them. His skin has a golden hue that’s a richer shade than most vampires you’ve met, who tend to have a paler, more washed-out quality to them. His expensive three-piece suit fits him like a glove (with the exception of his cuffs, which, you note, are a half-inch too long), and it shows off his broad shoulders and narrow waist. He’s going to break hearts all over this building, you can already tell.

But how he looks is nothing compared to how he smells.

It had hit you the moment he’d walked in, strong and overwhelming. But where other Alphas’ scents make you want to retch, this scent makes you go weak in the knees. You can almost feel it curl around you like a living thing, warm and comforting, with a hint of spice and an undertone of something a little sharper, like clean linen, and you wonder if that’s his vampirism’s influence. You want to wear it like a favorite sweater, you want to rub up against this man like a cat, you want him to scent you…

That ridiculous thought makes you shake yourself back to reality. Hector is introducing Max to your coworkers, your brief moment of introduction long over, but you notice Max stealing a glance or two back in your direction. There’s a hint of a frown tugging at his plush lower lip when he does, like he’s confused about something. You resist the urge to spin your bracelet around your wrist, not wanting to draw attention to it.

It’s alright. You’re fine. He can’t smell you. He can’t know. Even with his enhanced vampire senses, your Omega is hidden. And that’s for the best. Just like it always has been.

You watch as Max and Hector round the corner to head to the next suite of offices, and Max’s scent begins to fade. For a moment you have the ludicrous desire to follow him, but you quickly shove it aside and turn back to your work.

You’re a paralegal for the company’s legal department, so you and Max will be working on complete opposite sides of the office from each other. It should be easy enough to avoid him going forward.

And you need to avoid him, because even though you’ve only interacted for a few moments, one thing is painfully obvious:

Max Phillips is, above everything else, trouble.

———

His first month in his new role has Max busier than he’d anticipated. Unlike in his previous roles with the company, working at HQ has him surrounded by more Alphas and more vampires than he’s ever been before. Forget the endless cubicles of lazy mediocre employees spending their time building their fantasy football leagues and watching porn instead of working; the New York office is full of people like him: driven, competitive, ruthless, intelligent. Alphas. Vampires. He can’t coast here, not when he’s amongst so many peers who all have the same sorts of biological and supernatural advantages that he does.

Max has to work hard to keep up and get ahead here, to outmaneuver the other Senior Directors, to suck up to the bosses, to think up the Next Great Sales Idea before someone else does.

He loves it, even if his schedule is more packed than it ever has been. This is what he’s meant to do, this is what he’s so good at, and however much time and effort the company demands of him, he’s happy to give it.

So why, then, during his rare moments of free time, do his thoughts keep returning to the pretty Beta over in Legal?

There’s something about her that he can’t quite figure out. He only sees her occasionally, happening to pass her in the hall or going in or out of the break room with a mug of tea (never coffee, he notes). Rarely he’ll manage to catch her eye, but she always looks away the moment he does.

He can’t help but notice the way her clothes always fit her perfectly; dresses in rich jewel tones that sweep over her beautiful curves; high-waisted trousers that make her petite frame seem tall and statuesque; blouses with jeweled buttons or other delicate details. He should ask her, he thinks, where she buys it all, and how she affords such an immaculately tailored wardrobe on a paralegal’s salary.

Someone brings donuts into the office one day, and Max has the strangest urge to bring her one. Before he can waste too much time thinking about it he plucks one from the box and makes his way over to her desk.

———

You aren’t in your chair, but your purse and coat hanging off the back of it make clear that you’re here somewhere. Max deposits the donut and napkin next to your keyboard, and takes a moment to snoop.

There aren’t a lot of personal items on your desk - a framed photo of an older couple who must be your parents, a coffee mug emblazoned with the name of your alma mater currently holding an assortment of pens, a little figurine of that baby Yoda character from that Star Wars show everyone but he seems to have seen.

But then he notices the drawings. There are a few tacked to the fabric walls of your cubicle, all women in different outfits, done in a combination of pencil, marker, and watercolor, all of the kind you would find in a fashion designers’ sketchbook.

Then Max realizes that there is, in fact, a sketchbook sitting on your desk, large and well-loved but cheap-looking, something you could pick up for a few bucks at any craft store. Is this your hobby? More importantly, why does he suddenly care to know? Max is no judge of art, but the drawings are beautiful, and he can’t help but imagine what these dresses, if made real, would look like on you…

“Can I help you, Mr. Phillips?”

He jumps, turning to find you standing there, watching him be far nosier than he should be around your desk. You’re wearing a sleeveless dress and matching long blazer in deep cream linen today. He glances down at the donut he’s brought you and feels uncharacteristically foolish. What is he even doing here?

“No, sweetheart, I was just…” A coworker - one of the actual lawyers - walks by. “I was just waiting for you, Clark!” He swiftly catches up to the other man and throws an overly friendly arm around his shoulders as they walk back towards Clark’s office. “Buddy, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I’ve been told you’re the man to talk to about IRS compliance issues, or, rather, how to get around IRS compliance issues…”

———

Well that was odd.

You sit back down at your desk, reassured that Max doesn’t seem to have opened your sketchbook. You just keep it around in case inspiration strikes at work.

Then you notice the donut, the unmistakable scent of a certain Alpha all over it. Did he - did Max really - ?

Alpha provides, your Omega purrs, and you want to roll your eyes at yourself. Is the bar for men really so low that one of them bringing you a donut should make you want to open your legs for him?

But you also can’t help but smile, finding it a sweet gesture in spite of yourself.

———

You and Max become…workplace acquaintances, shall you say, after that. You don’t force yourself to avoid eye contact with him whenever you pass in the hall. You allow yourself a few moments of small talk when you happen to be in the break room together. You start calling him Max, instead of Mr. Phillips.

His scent doesn’t get any easier to bear, though. Nor does the way his shoulders fill out his suits.

It’s pleasant and superficial, even if you know it can never go any deeper than that. He’s friendly and nice, and even seems to get a little flustered by you sometimes, which you enjoy. And he doesn’t openly hit on you, which is a surprise, one you tell yourself you’re grateful for even if your Omega desperately wishes he would.

It’s all well and good, until it isn’t.

You’re crammed into the back of the elevator one day when you're running late and trying to get up to the office. Max and several of the other Alphas he spends much of his time with get on last, and suddenly you’re privy to an ongoing conversation you soon wish you could tune out.

“—nothing like it. But you’re telling me, Phillips, that you don’t see the appeal? Having a little Omega mate always waiting for you at home? Some insatiable thing always there with a warm meal and a wet cunt?”

You can hear Max make a hmm of acknowledgement at the other Alpha, who apparently sees nothing wrong with sharing his misogynistic views of Omegas in a public elevator surrounded by colleagues. Typical.

“Omegas can be fun, don’t get me wrong,” Max replies. “But they’re also so clingy and always want to talk about bonds and mating and commitment.” His dismissive tone makes very clear what he thinks of those ideas. “Why would I tie myself down when there’s so much of me to go around? Omegas are more trouble than they’re worth.”

It shouldn’t hurt. It shouldn’t. There’s two rows of people separating you; Max doesn’t even know you’re in this elevator, let alone that you’re an Omega. You should be glad he feels that way — then if he ever discovered your secret, you wouldn’t have to worry about him being interested.

Omegas are more trouble than they’re worth.

The elevator dings, and Max and the other Alphas file out.

“Just wait until you meet your mate, Phillips. You’ll change your tune real quick.”

“Yeah, and god help whoever ends up mated to this asshole.”

“Shove it, Bret, you’re just still pissed my team outsold yours last month.”

The rest of their conversation fades away, but the inexplicable nugget of pain in your heart does not.

———

The company’s Halloween party is its biggest employee event of the year, surpassing even the annual Christmas soir��e. It’s always held at a ritzy hotel in downtown Manhattan, the kind of place you couldn’t afford a room at even for one night. Attendance is optional.

Technically.

But really, it’s one of those events where failure to show up signified a lack of enthusiasm for the company. And even though you approach this job as just a thing you do that lets you afford rent instead of your great calling in life, you don’t want to risk making things more difficult for yourself by skipping out this year. Besides, you just finished an incredible new costume and you’re eager to show it off.

Even if you are cutting it awfully close with your heat this time.

You’ve felt it coming on all week, that telltale prickle of warmth under your skin that won’t dissipate even in the crisp autumn chill that’s finally descended upon New York. The Friday night of the party, it’s almost upon you, but you figure you have until the next morning before it truly arrives. You can make it to the party. Say hi to a few people, make sure your bosses see you there, have one drink, then bail.

You’ve already put together your nest, the pile of blankets and pillows and the odd stuffed animal carefully arranged on your bed. You’ve stocked up on Gatorade and cheese cubes and popsicles, things you can snack on quickly in between rounds of feverishly fucking yourself on one of your knotted toys. You’ve done everything you need to do to make this heat bearable just like you have for your whole adult life, to minimize the deep ache in your core that will never stop reminding you of the one thing that’s missing:

An Alpha.

And you know, deep down, that this time when you’re alone in your nest and begging out loud to no one for an Alpha to come and fill you up, you’ll be picturing a very specific Alpha in particular.

You try to put Max from your mind as you zip yourself into your dress and put the finishing touches on your hair and makeup, making sure your silver bracelet is secure around your wrist. You’ve managed to keep your interactions with Max to a minimum in the two weeks since overhearing him in the elevator, and that is for the best.

Nothing but trouble, you remind yourself. He can be absolutely nothing but trouble.

———

You are sure that most of the time, the ballroom where the party is held each year is a perfectly elegant place. Multiple chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and large gilded mirrors on the walls lend the place an elegant, old-fashioned, Gatsby-esque vibe.

Unfortunately, whoever at your company is in charge of planning the party insists on ruining the natural classiness of the room by putting a light-up dance floor in the middle of it, over which looms a DJ playing tacky remixes of “Thriller” alongside whatever counts as Top 40 these days. The walls are flooded with aggressively purple uplighting like you’re at every wedding in New Jersey circa-2012, and there’s a bar shoved into every corner serving every liquor imaginable and featuring multiple bowls of questionable punch on beds of dry ice. It’s like all the loud, drunken Halloween parties you went to in college, but with a much larger budget.

But it’s fine. Get in, be seen, one drink, get out.

You smooth your hands over your skirt as you walk in. Your costume with its petticoat is a far cry from the skimpier outfits many of the other women in your office tend to gravitate towards for this party, but you don’t mind.

You’ve been making your own Halloween costumes since you were a teenager. Your mother made them for you growing up, and passed on her love of sewing and fashion to you. Last year, you were the Scarlet Witch, handmade headpiece and all. The year before that, you came to the party in a replica of Belle’s blue and white dress from the beginning of Beauty and the Beast.

This year’s costume is more obscure, but near and dear to your heart. The bodice is blood-red satin, with a swooping boat-shaped neckline that shows off just a hint of your breasts. The fabric bunches together in off-the-shoulder sleeves that stop at your elbows, with a scrap of delicate ivory lace attached to the end of each one. The skirt falls in ruffled tiers of black, but for an open panel at the front that shows off the layers of white petticoat underneath. Black lace bows cut across the white three times, and the silhouette makes your waist look small while the skirt flares and moves like waves when you walk.

You’ve built a few pockets into the skirt for practical reasons, but otherwise, it’s a damn near exact replica of Catherine Zeta-Jones’ dress from The Mask of Zorro.

You quickly find Morgan and your small group of work friends giggling over drinks in a corner, and they appropriately ohh and ahh over your outfit, having come to look forward to seeing what you’ll come up with for your costume each year. A trace of Max’s scent reaches you, but it’s faint, and hard to detect under the myriad scents of the other Alphas in the room. He’s here, somewhere, but you don’t see him. Which doesn’t matter, because you aren’t looking for him, despite the way your nearly-in-heat Omega is growing increasingly wild over it.

You’re halfway through your one drink when it gets to be too much — too many people, too many scents, music loud enough you have to shout to be heard, a room that feels far too warm. Pinpricks of light start to dance at the edges of your vision, and your bodice feels too tight; you can’t get enough air. You excuse yourself from your friends, and take your drink into the hall.

You wander until you find a much more quiet corner where the noise from the party is subdued. There are several padded velvet benches along the wall and you sink onto one with a sigh, closing your eyes and trying to determine whether you’ve stayed long enough and whether you’ll be missed if you head home now. What you wouldn’t give to be able to snap your fingers and skip the ride home, to just be magically transported straight to your cozy nest in your dark, quiet apartment…

You’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don’t notice the way a particular scent grows stronger, indicating that you’re no longer alone.

“Buenos noches, Señorita Montero.”

Your eyes fly open.

It’s Max. It has to be, the way his delicious scent sinks into every inch of you, invading your senses and making your stomach clench. But for a split second you blink at him in confusion, forgetting for a moment that you’re at a Halloween party, because the person standing before you isn’t Max.

It’s Zorro.

Zorro, in head-to-toe black, from his boots to his (tighter than in the movie) pants to the billowy shirt that exposes a significant amount of his chest. A fancy-looking sword hangs from his belt, his shoulders draped in a cape that falls to behind his knees. The trademark black mask covers his eyes, but the wry twist of his lips gives the illusion away — that look he’s giving you is all Max.

You recover from your initial surprise, laughing at your serendipitous coordination.

“Well, if it isn’t Zorro himself,” you say, playing along. “I’m surprised to see you at a party — you’re not here to cause trouble, are you? Should I be worried that there’s danger afoot?”

“Tonight, I am only here for the entertainment,” he replies, in a surprisingly accurate imitation of Antonio Banderas’s accent. “And to perhaps enjoy the company of a beautiful lady.”

You chuckle, but the humor’s gone out of it.

“Well if I see any, I’ll be sure to send them your way.”

Max frowns.

“On the contrary,” he says softly. “I’m speaking to such a woman right now.”

You flush, your body growing even warmer at his compliment.

“Can I sit?” He asks, dropping the accent. You gesture to the bench cushion beside you.

He settles next to you, maintaining a respectful distance and taking care not to step or sit on any of your dress.

“I had such a crush on Catherine Zeta-Jones in this movie,” he admits. “It’s still one of my favorites.”

“I had such a crush on her and Antonio Banderas in this movie,” you tell him. “That scene where they dance together basically invented sexual chemistry.”

Max nods in agreement.

“Where did you ever find a costume of Elena’s dress from the party?”

“I made it.”

“You…made it?”

“I’ve always made my own Halloween costumes. I make most of my own clothes, actually.” You’ve also got a shelf holding several awards from cosplay competitions you’ve accumulated over the past few years, but you don’t mention that to him. He doesn’t need to know the full extent of how nerdy you are.

Max raises his eyebrows in surprise (or at least, you think he does under the mask).

“So that explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“Why you always look so good. I mean — ” if he still had the ability, you think he might be blushing right now. It’s adorable. “Why your clothes always look so good. On you. Why everything always seems to be…well-tailored.”

“Well-tailored,” you repeat, your Omega preening at his praise, odd though it is. “That’s one of the more unique compliments I’ve ever been given, Max. Thank you.”

He grins at you for a moment, before his features soften into something else.

“I haven’t seen you around the office as much lately,” he says quietly. “Everything okay?”

Your heart stutters in your chest. Your fingers go to your bracelet, the metal cool and comforting.

You can’t tell him you’ve been avoiding him, let alone tell him why.

“I’ve just been really busy lately, I guess. Some days I feel like I never have a free minute to leave my desk at all.”

“That’s a shame,” Max says, shifting just an inch closer to you on the bench. “But perhaps if you don’t have time at work, we could find a time to see each other outside of the office? Maybe…I could take you to dinner next week?”

Oh my god. Is he — did he just — ?

It’s not a come-on, it’s not a lewd proposition, Max Phillips is genuinely asking you out. You’re sitting here dressed as Zorro and Elena and it feels like you’re no more than five damn minutes away from your heat and Max Phillips is asking you out.

You want so badly to say yes. Your Omega is screaming at you to say yes (and then jump his bones right here in this hallway).

But you can’t. There are so many good reasons why you can’t.

That overwhelmed feeling is starting to suck you under again. You can’t think clearly, not when he’s this close to you and you’re this close to your heat. You have to get out of here.

You stand up.

“I’m sorry, Max, I — ”

“Whoa, what’s wrong, sweetheart?” He stands and reaches out a hand to steady you, but you step away before he can.

“Nothing, I just, I don’t feel well. I should be getting home.”

“Let me walk you out — ”

“No!” You nearly shout it at him, and the look that crosses his face makes you feel like you’ve just kicked a puppy.

“I’m sorry, Max. Let’s talk about this in the office next week, okay?”

“Okay, sweetheart,” he says softly.

You beat a hasty retreat for the exit, and don’t look back.

———

The entrance to the hotel is on a more quiet side street rather than one of the main avenues, and you’re grateful not to be thrust into the ebb and flow of a crowded Manhattan sidewalk the moment you step outside. But it also means there aren’t many cabs venturing down this way, and you know you’ll never make it if you have to take the subway. You whip out your phone and call an Uber.

Eight minutes away. You can handle that. Eight minutes in the fresh, chilly air, eight minutes to clear your head of the Alpha your body is craving more desperately with each passing minute. Eight minutes, then twenty minutes drive to your apartment. Less than half an hour until you’re home, until you’re safe in your nest.

“Well now, look at what we have here.”

Shit.

Three Alphas are stumbling their way down the sidewalk towards you. Their scent and their inability to walk straight making it very clear they’ve been drinking.

“Look at this pretty little mouse,” one of them says.

Maybe if you just ignore them, they’ll keep walking past you.

“Little mouse is all dressed up like she’s going to a party,” another says.

No such luck. They stop only a few feet from you, taking up the entire sidewalk. Each of them is nearly a foot taller than you are, and they’re blocking your path back into the hotel.

“You wanna come party with us, pretty thing?”

“No, thank you.” You try to say it calmly, but your voice wavers.

“Aww, don’t be like that, honey, we can show you a good time!”

The third one leans towards you and inhales.

“Shit, she’s just a Beta.” But that doesn’t seem to deter them either.

“We can still have fun with a Beta. C’mon little mouse, come have some fun with us.”

“I’m not interested. Please leave me alone.”

“Maybe she’s just never had a real Alpha show her a good time,” the first one says.

“I bet we can make you change your tune real quick, honey — ”

It happens so fast. The second Alpha reaches out to grab your arm, but as you flinch away he catches your wrist instead. When you try to jerk away from him, his thumb snags on your bracelet, and you watch in horror as the clasp breaks.

It falls soundlessly to the ground. But the Alphas harassing you barely notice, all of them immediately interested in something else.

Your skin immediately breaks out in a cold sweat, your scent glands on either side of your neck now visible, red and swollen. And you can see the moment your scent — your real scent — hits them. The three men seem to grow bigger, all of their Alpha instincts triggered at once by the sudden scent of an Omega in heat right in front of them. All three of them breathe deep, and you’ve never felt more like prey.

“Not a Beta,” the third one growls, practically licking his lips.

“Look at that, it’s a little Omega mouse,” the second one says, and his malicious delight makes your blood run cold. The bitter taste of adrenaline floods your mouth. What should you do? If you scream, someone from the hotel has to hear you, right?

“Looks like this is our lucky night,” the first Alpha grins. “Come here, Omega.”

You fight it, you try to fight the compulsion of an Alpha’s command with everything you have, but it’s useless. You take an involuntary step towards him—

But suddenly the Alpha isn’t standing in front of you anymore. Some invisible force yanks him away from you and flings him clear across the street. There’s a painful-sounding crunch as he lands on the windshield of someone’s parked car and shatters it. The effect of his command dissipates.

His companions are just as confused as you are until the next moment they find themselves both shoved up against the building, a figure dressed entirely in black holding them up with a hand on each of their throats.

Max.

The sound he makes is inhuman, a warning snarl that starts deep in his chest. Alphas are strong by nature, but against a vampire, there’s no winning.

There is only one predator here now.

“‘Evening, boys.” He must be showing them his fangs, you can hear it affect his speech. “Looks like you’ve chosen a lovely night to die, hm?”

“Max! Don’t!” You place a placating hand on his shoulder. These men frightened you, yes, and would have done who knows what else, but you didn’t want them to die for it. And more importantly, you didn’t want Max to get in trouble for killing them.

“They threatened you,” he seethes, his grip on their necks tightening. “They touched you.”

“They’re not worth it, Max. Please, I’m safe now.”

He doesn’t let them go. But then the first cramp of your heat hits you, and you gasp in pain.

“Max, I need you. I — please, Alpha.”

That gets through to him. He cocks his head like he’s listening for something.

“Sounds like your friend is still alive over there. You’d better get him to a hospital. And if I ever see any of you again…”

He throws each Alpha one-handed to the ground like they weigh nothing, his point very clear. They pick themselves up, wheezing, and go collect their companion before slinking off into the night.

Max gathers you into his arms, your whole body starting to shake.

“It’s alright,” he murmurs, “I have you, I have you, you’re alright.”

“How did you know?” You mumble the question into his shirt.

“I could smell you. All of a sudden. Your scent — you were afraid.”

He tilts your chin up so he can look at you.

“Omega?”

There are so many different questions contained in that one word, but you only have one word for him in reply.

“Alpha.”

Then he’s kissing you, his lips soft but demanding and you yield to him instantly.

“Omega,” he breathes, kissing his way down your throat till he reaches your gland, tracing it with the tip of his nose, his lips, his tongue, scenting you. “Omega, all this time…”

You cling to him, your hands scrabbling to pull his shirt free so you can get your hands on his skin, though you’re not sure to what end.

There is every chance you would have let this man fuck you right here on the sidewalk if not for the interruption of your Uber driver honking at you, having finally arrived.

“Oh shit,” you say, suddenly coming back to yourself. “That’s my ride.”

“Let me make sure you get home okay,” Max sounds like he’s out of breath, an impossible circumstance for a vampire. “I swear to you, sweetheart, I won’t do anything you don’t want me to, but please, just — let me make sure you’re safe.”

The absolute last thing you want is to be alone right now, so you nod.

Max bends down and scoops something off the concrete, a thin silver chain glinting in his hand.

“My bracelet,” you say, having forgotten all about it.

Max turns it over in his palm, and seems to understand. He loops it around your wrist, despite the fact that it’s broken.

“I need you to hold this right here until we get you home. Can you do that for me, baby?”

You can, and you tell him so. When you hold the ends together, the charm re-activates, camouflaging your designation once more. When Max slides into the Uber next to you, you think you see some of the tension leave his body, that at least he won’t have to sit in this confined space with the scent of an Omega going into heat. He settles his hand on your knee, and his touch helps calm you.

You pass the drive to your apartment almost in complete silence. You use the time to consider your options. Max knows you’re an Omega. He knows, and he helped you anyway. In fact, based on the hungry way he kissed and held you back there, maybe you could ask him to help you a little more…

By the time you arrive at your place, you’ve come to a decision. You’ll ask Max to help you with your heat, but that’s all. If he’s willing to do that, despite his stated aversion to Omegas, you can make it through the next 48 hours without doing too many of those Omega things he finds so distasteful. You won’t alienate him completely. You will not be more trouble than you’re worth.

Forty-eight hours, and that’s all you’ll give yourself with him. There’s no use getting attached and hoping for more now that he knows the truth. You’ll ask Max to be yours for the weekend, and no more.

When you finally make it to your front door, it takes you several attempts to get your key in the lock. Max hovers behind you, a hand on your lower back, like he can’t help but touch you.

You turn to him.

“Thank you, Max. I don’t know what would have happened if — ” You can’t even finish the thought.

“I’m sorry this happened to you, but I’m glad I was there.”

“Listen, about my designation, I - ”

“You don’t owe me an explanation,” Max says, shaking his head at you. “And besides, I think I got a pretty good example of why you’d hide it a few minutes ago.”

You both fall silent, just looking at each other, and it’s obvious neither of you wants to part.

“Do you want to — would you stay?”

His lips quirk up.

“What I mean is, it’s my heat, and I was wondering if you…”

“I know it is,” he says quietly. “Since the moment I caught your scent at the hotel, I’ve known. You’re in heat, baby. You want me to stay and take care of you?”

You whine, but that’s answer enough.

“Good,” Max nods. “I want that too.”

You reach behind you and somehow get your door open, letting your bracelet fall to the floor. There’s a moment of confusion as you don’t feel Max follow you inside, his hands slipping from you and for the first time since outside the hotel he isn’t touching you. You turn to face him as anxiety rises, fast and irrational: is he having second thoughts? Does he not want to do this? Is he going to leave you to face your heat alone after all?

These questions must be written all over your face because he gives you a small smile and gently says:

“You have to invite me in, sweetheart.”

Oh. Right. Vampire.

“Come in, please,” you say demurely, and Max’s smile widens as he steps over the threshold into your apartment. He reaches for you again immediately, kicking your door closed and pulling you close.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. “Such a polite little Omega.” And even that bit of praise makes you shiver in his arms, slick starting to leak into your underwear. Max’s nostrils flare and you know he can smell it. Perhaps you should be more worried that you’ve essentially invited a fox into a henhouse, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Alpha is here, and he wants you.

You’d assumed the moment Max got you alone he’d be all over you, and you can feel the tension in his body and smell the desire pouring off of him, but he holds himself back, pressing almost lazy kisses against your lips while he holds you flush against him, his hardening cock thick in his trousers.

“Where do you want to do this, pretty girl? Tell me now, before I strip you down and knot you against your front door.”

Another whine escapes you, your Omega having no objections to that plan, but the rational part of your brain prevails.

“Could we - ” you start, trying to take a step backwards towards your bedroom, “I made - ”

Max grins against your cheek, moving with you down the hall without letting any space come between you.

“Did you make a nest, baby? You make a nice, soft place for me to fuck you in? You wanna show me?”

You nod furiously, pulling him back down to kiss you as you both stumble inelegantly into your bedroom.

———

Max takes care as he undresses you, peeling you out of the layers of your costume without damaging it.

When he’s finally got you bare, he cups your face in his hands and kisses you, just once, before pulling away.

“Go get in your nest, baby, and let me get you ready.”

You obey him eagerly, making yourself comfortable among your blankets while Max strips, his body just as broad as his suits make him seem, but not overly muscled. His cock is big, thicker and longer than any you’ve taken, and you can’t wait to have it inside you.

He strokes himself lazily as he kneels on the bed and looks at you, a little wave of self-consciousness rising in your chest. Does he like how you look? Does he like your nest? You press your thighs together, suddenly worried about what this Alpha might think of you.

But Max quickly puts those fears to rest.

“Spread for me.”

You part your legs, and Max lets go of his cock to run his hands up your legs, just barely ghosting the tips of his fingers over the lips of your cunt, already shiny with slick.

“Beautiful,” he breathes. “You gorgeous girl. Made such a good nest, made such a perfect place for me to breed you.”

Your cunt bottoms out at his words, your Omega all happy and warm at his praise. He drapes himself over you and proceeds to cover your whole body with kisses, starting with your lips, your throat, your glands. He plays with your breasts, cupping them in his palms, and sucks and bites at your nipples until you’re a squirming mess beneath him.

He’s sucking a little bruise into your tummy, just next to your belly button, when he finally breaches you with his fingers, three of them filling you with ease.

“This okay, baby?”

“Mmhmm.” You bite down on your lip and roll your hips, wanting him deeper.

“You’re so wet already, Omega. You wanna cum for me?”

Yes, yes you tell him, and he curls his fingers and puts his thumb on your clit. In a matter of minutes he has you rippling around his fingers, slick gushing onto the bed below you.

“Good girl.” Max sticks his fingers in his mouth, licking up every drop of your slick. He leans down and kisses you, his tongue possessive as it tangles with your own, sharing the sweet flavor of your slick with you.

“You taste so fucking good, sweetheart. Get on your hands and knees for me.”

His cock pushes into you slowly once you’re in position, his hands on your hips holding you firmly, not letting you fuck yourself back on him.

“You’ll take it slowly this first time, Omega,” he says, finally seating himself to the hilt. He gives you time to adjust, until finally your patience breaks.

“Please move, Alpha. I’m ready, I wanna feel you.”

He obliges, driving into you with long, powerful strokes. The tip of him bumps up against your cervix, stretching you on his cock, and it’s indescribably good. His fingers had been one thing, but this is something else entirely. You’re surrounded by him, drowning in his scent, and it works you up to another climax astonishingly quickly.

“Alpha, I’m — I’m gonna cum — ”

Max reaches down to rub at your clit and you clamp down around him, keening his name.

“Yes, Omega, let me feel it. Fuck, you get so fucking tight when you cum.”

He plants one hand by your head, fingers splayed wide. His thumb rests barely an inch from your face, and without thought you stick out your tongue and lick it. Max hisses above you and you do it again, shifting your chin so you can take his thumb fully into your mouth.

“Oh, baby girl,” he growls, slamming his hips against yours, “you need it, don’t you? You need me in every hole? I’ll fucking give it to you. Need me to fuck your ass next? I’d love to see you all stretched out on my cock, watch you try to cram my knot inside that pretty little asshole - ”

You manage to garble out a little mhm around his thumb and Max moves his other hand to your shoulder for better leverage, trying to go faster, to get himself deeper inside you.

And it feels so good, his cock filling your pussy, his fingers in your mouth pushing you even further into the submissive haze of your heat. Drawing your Omega further up from where you’d buried her for so long, until she rises to the surface, set free. It feels good to be used, to be a good set of holes for Alpha to fill as he wishes, to have such a clear and useful purpose.

“You ready to take my knot, baby? You gonna take it all for me? Gonna let me breed you?”

“Yes, Alpha,” you moan, and Max comes undone. You feel his knot swell and catch inside you, locking you together and he cums and cums, filling you over and over with his spend. He trails kisses across your back, murmuring praises into your skin.

“You okay, sweetheart? Does it feel good? Such a good Omega for me, taking my knot, taking all my cum. Gonna make me such pretty babies, aren’t you? Gonna keep all my cum inside you until it takes, hm?”

You try to lift your hips, try and press yourself even closer to him. He won’t get you pregnant, he can’t. Vampires only shoot blanks, but when your heat takes control of you, your body doesn’t care about such technicalities. You’re so eager for it, you want it so badly.

And the small part of your brain that’s still capable of rational thought wonders how the hell you’ll ever come back from this, from him. Now that you know how good this can be, how can you ever go back to going through your heats alone?

You are, in more ways than one, so, so fucked.

———

Max is a surprisingly attentive Alpha. When you make to get out of bed to get something to drink, he pulls you back in, going to get it himself with a small growl of “stay.” He brings you back a bottle of Gatorade and a glass of water, along with some crackers and trail mix you’d left out on your counter. When you reach for the water, he makes a noise of discontent.

“No, let me,” he says, sitting down next to you and holding the glass to your lips. He looks a little sheepish at insisting on doing this for you, and it occurs to you that his Alpha instincts are probably riding him as hard as your Omega instincts are riding you. His innate need to care for you a perfect compliment to your need to be cared for.

Max tips the glass up and watches as you take several long sips.

“Good,” he murmurs, eyes on your throat as you swallow. When you’re done, he sets the glass on your bedside table. A drop of water clings to your bottom lip, and he leans over to kiss it away. He licks along the seam of your lips, politely asking for entrance, and you happily grant it. He tugs you into his lap and you can feel the fever rising again, your brief reprieve from the all-encompassing need to be fucked nearly over.

Max’s eyes darken and you know he can smell it, the way your body is starting to get you ready to be bred again.

“What do you need, baby?”

You squirm in his arms.

“You, Alpha.”

The grin that splits his face is so cocky that under normal circumstances you’d be tempted to smack it off him. But doing so is the last thing on your mind when he twists you around so your back hits the mattress, your entire field of vision taken up by your Alpha.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he coos, reaching down to line himself up with your entrance, “that’s fucking right.”

———

This is the odd routine you find yourselves in: your mutual desire rising to an inevitable peak, culminating in a furious round of mating that ends with Max’s knot filling you over and over with his seed. But once you’re both temporarily sated, you get periods of lucidity to rest. Sometimes you take a short nap on Max’s chest, other times he feeds you from the plethora of snacks he’s fetched from your kitchen.

One time he carries you into the shower, refusing to let you walk there on your own. You intend to finally get all of your makeup off and product out of your hair from the night before, and you do, but barely have you done so before Max has you pressed up against the tile, frantic to replace the scent of him on you that you’ve washed down the drain.

He fills you again but doesn’t knot you, instead wrapping you both in a towel and rolling you back into your nest, still damp all over. He wedges his shoulders between your legs, spreads you open with his thumbs, and just looks, mesmerized. Then he leans in and licks up the steady trickle of slick and cum that leaks from you with a groan.

“You taste like me, baby. Look at how much of me you have inside you. You can’t even keep it all in.”

He gathers what his tongue missed on his fingers and pushes it back inside you.

“That’s what - ngh - that’s what your knot is for, Alpha,” you pant.

Max nods sagely in agreement.

“It is, Omega, that’s true. But I think I need to make some room for more before I breed this needy pussy again, don’t you?”

He doesn’t wait for your reply before diving in with his tongue once more.

———

“How long have you been a paralegal?”

“Since I finished college.”

In all the things people told you about what to expect during your heat, “making small talk with an Alpha while you wait for his knot to go down” was not one of them.

But you find you don’t mind it. Max is surprisingly easy to talk to. He’s sharp and funny and laughs at your wit. He asks you more questions about yourself while you’re locked together on his knot than you’ve been asked during the entirety of some first dates you’ve been on, and seems to genuinely care about your answers.

You like him. A lot. Fuck.

“My parents want me to go to law school,” you tell him. “Being a paralegal is a way of appeasing them, though I don’t know for how much longer.”

“You don’t want to be a lawyer?”

You shake your head no, brushing against Max’s chin from where he’s lying on his side behind you.

“I like my job well enough. It’s predictable, and I’m good at it, and it’s good money and rarely insane hours. But the law isn’t my grand calling in life.”

“What is?”

You burrow your head into the pillow.

“It’s silly.”

Max gently runs his hand up your side, trailing his fingertips along the outer edge of your breast.

“I’m sure it isn’t.”

You take a deep breath.

“You know how I told you I make most of my clothes?” He hums the affirmative. “I’ve done it a few times for other people, too. A few formal dresses, some Halloween costumes, even a cosplay outfit or two, all for friends or their kids. If I could do anything…I think I’d do that. Make beautiful clothes for people that make them happy.”

Max is quiet for a moment. Then he asks:

“Why don’t you?”

You snort. “What?”

“Why don’t you? I’m sure you’d be amazing at it.”

“I can’t exactly work full-time and take commissions, Max.”

“So quit your job.”

You almost sit up in surprise before remembering at the very last second that you need to be careful how much you move right now.

“Quit my job? Just like that?”

“Why not?”

“I — I wouldn’t even know where to start. I don’t know the first thing about how to set up a business.”

“That’s okay, I do.”

You freeze.

“What do you mean?”

You feel him shrug.

“Well, not to brag or anything, but you may have noticed that I’m kind of amazing at the whole business thing. If you need help setting up a business plan and getting things off the ground, I could help.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. He isn’t yours, you remind yourself. So what if he just casually offered to help your biggest life dream come true? Who knows if he even really means it. It’s dangerous to get too close to him, it’s dangerous to let him into your life that way. This is. Just. Temporary.

“That’s…very kind of you, Max.”

“I know. I’m really quite something.”

You reach back and elbow him in the ribs the best you can from this angle, but he just chuckles and curls himself back around you.

“What about you?” You say, eager to change the subject. “Why sales?”

“I like making money and I’m very good at it,” he says simply.

“Typical Alpha.” You roll your eyes.

He tickles your side in retaliation.

“Hey!”

You giggle, trying not to move in a way that will pull painfully at his knot.

“I just mean…Alphas like to win. Lots of opportunities to do that in sales, where you have exact numbers that can show exactly how much you’re dominating your competition.”

Max playfully nips at your ear.

“I guess that’s true. I’ve never thought of it that way before.”

He curls his hand over your hip and grinds his knot even further into you, making you gasp.

“Although, Omega, speaking of dominating…”

———

Max is asleep next to you. At least, you’re pretty sure he is. Do vampires need to sleep?

Regardless, his eyes are closed, and he’s unnaturally still in a way that’s a bit unnerving. His chest doesn’t rise or fall, he doesn’t snore or twitch, his pulse doesn’t beat beneath his skin. Still, he must be tired. You’ve probably exhausted him. He’s sure as hell worn you out over the last 24 hours.

But your skin still feels flushed and hot, your body insisting that it’s time again. Slick leaks steadily onto your thighs, your cunt starting to throb with the need to cum. You hate the idea of waking Max up, hate the idea of seeming that desperate and needy, of embodying all of the things you know Max doesn’t like about Omegas.

Maybe you don’t have to bother him this time. Maybe if you can just sneak your hand down towards your clit, if you can just get yourself off one time, it’ll trick your body into calming down until Max wakes and can fuck you properly again. If you can just be quiet…

You circle your clit with two fingers and bite back a small sigh of relief. It’s nowhere near the same as when Max does it, but hopefully it’ll suffice until -

“What do you think you’re doing, Omega?”

You freeze, turning your head to see Max now wide awake and pinning you with a stare that lets you know you are in a lot of trouble.

“N-nothing.”

“Nothing?” Max hums, shifting until he’s hovering over you. He pulls your hand away from your cunt and secures both your wrists above your head in a one-handed grip. He trails his other hand down your body until he’s petting gently at your clit.

“It looked like you were touching yourself. Were you?” His tone is calm, but there’s a wicked gleam in his eye that says otherwise.

“Yes.”

Max tuts, his fingers still barely stroking you, enough to make you squirm but not enough to get you anywhere near your climax.

“I - I thought you were asleep,” you say by way of apology.

“Vampires don’t sleep. We - ” Max searches for the right word, “rest, in a way. But if this pretty little pussy needs to cum, all you have to do is say so.”

He dips his head to pull your nipple into his mouth before letting it go with a dramatically loud pop.

His fingers start to move faster, pressing more firmly against you, touching you in a way you know will make you cum, but you’re still so empty. You need something to cum on, you need to be full of Max’s cock. You can feel it hard and hot against your thigh as he lightly grinds it against you.

“Max, please, I need to feel you - ”

“Oh no, sweetheart, I don’t think so,” he tells you sternly. “You decided to take this orgasm for yourself when you thought I was asleep, you decided to make yourself cum without being filled up, and now that’s exactly what you’ll get. Naughty girls don’t get to cum on their Alpha’s knot.”

You writhe underneath him, seeking more stimulation, but he’s so much stronger than you are that you’ll never be able to get more than exactly as much as he’s willing to give you.

“It’s not enough, Alpha,” you whine.

“Shh,” Max hushes you, his fingers never stopping. “Of course it isn’t. But punishments aren’t supposed to be satisfying. Cum for me like this, just this once, and then I’ll give you what you need, okay?”

You can’t do anything other than nod, and it isn’t long before you’re cumming, your orgasm barely more than a few ripples of pleasure compared to the tidal wave you know Max is capable of giving you when he’s fucking you full. He watches your pussy clench weakly around nothing.

“I know, baby, I know,” he coos at you with false pity. “That wasn’t a good one at all, was it? See what happens when you don’t let your Alpha take care of you like he should?”

“Yes, Alpha,” you say meekly, trying to appear as submissive and compliant as possible.

“You still wanna be my good girl?”

You can’t tell him yes fast enough.

“Then turn over, sweetheart. Show me all of that pretty cunt.”

You scramble to obey, going down on your forearms with your hips in the air. Max spreads your cheeks apart and inspects you, everything on display for him. You nearly jump when you feel him run his tongue all the way from your clit to your little puckered hole, tasting every inch of you.

“Mine,” you hear him murmur, almost to himself. Then you feel his cock nudge against your folds, and in one swift stroke he fills you. You don’t get even a second to breathe before he starts to move.

Max cups the back of your neck, his hand large enough that he can reach both of your scent glands at the same time, and presses his fingers and thumb into them. The message is very clear: submit. You instantly go limp like a ragdoll, the pleasure overwhelming. Another orgasm rolls through you from the stimulation, this one so strong you’re reduced to whimpering and drooling onto your blankets as you quietly pulse around him.

“Oh fuck, atta girl, atta girl,” Max grunts behind you. “This is what you really needed, isn’t it? Just needed a firm hand and a big cock to take care of you, hmm?”

And it is. It really fucking is.

———

Keeping track of time isn’t the highest priority for you at the moment, but you’re vaguely aware that Saturday night has bled into Sunday morning has bled into Sunday afternoon. The periods of rest you get are slowly becoming longer. Another twelve hours or so, and you’ll be almost entirely out of your heat. Normally, you’d be counting down the minutes. Instead, you’re dreading having to give Max — or at least, this fantasy you’ve built with Max over the past two days — up.

You’re lightly dozing and trying to forget about it when you become aware of Max spooning himself up behind you. His cock is hard against your ass, which isn’t surprising, but what is surprising is the way he nuzzles into your neck, kissing and lapping at your gland before moving up and fixating on a spot just under your jaw—where you know he can hear your heart beat.

“Max?”

“Mm?” Is his only response. He hooks an arm over your stomach and pulls you closer, precome smearing from the tip of his cock across the small of your back. He sucks at the skin of your neck, rolling it between his lips and giving you what you’re sure will be a hell of a hickie. You hiss at the feeling, and the sound snaps him out of it.

“Fuck.” He sits up, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Max? Are you alright?” You reach out and lay what you intend to be a comforting hand on his forearm, but he goes still under your touch.

Run, whispers some primal part of your brain, some base instinct that understands before the rest of you does. Max runs a hand over his face and nods, but his gaze falls to your wrist and fixates there.

Right where you know your pulse is beating.

“You’re hungry,” you breathe, and the instant you say it you know you’re right. “You need to feed.”

“I normally shouldn’t, not for a few more days. Though in my defense,” Max says with his typical dark humor, “I’m expending an amount of energy I wasn’t necessarily anticipating this weekend.”

A pang of guilt lances through you. More trouble than they’re worth.

“No, hey, it’s alright.” Max places two fingertips gently on one of your glands, responding instantly to the distressed change in your scent and going to soothe you. “I have people I can call.”

He shifts away from you like he means to get up, like he means to leave your nest, and you tighten your hold on his arm.

“Just feed from me.”

Max shakes his head.

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.” It comes out perhaps more harshly than he intends. He turns back and crowds you into the bed, cupping your face in his hands.

“What if I can’t stop? You smell so good, you have no idea how much I want to devour you, consume you, in every way you’ll have me. You smell better than anyone I’ve ever - ”

He cuts himself off with a groan, burying his nose in your skin and licking a long stripe up the skin of your sternum.

It should scare you, the way he talks. You should heed the little voice that now screams danger, predator, run. But instead you thread your fingers through his hair and pull him closer, grinding your hips up against him, and all you can think of is yes.

“You won’t hurt me,” you say, and you mean it. “I trust you. You can have me, in whatever ways you want.”

You tilt your chin up and to the side, exposing your neck to his wild gaze. An invitation, followed by words you know he cannot possibly resist:

“Please, Alpha. Take it, it’s yours.”

Max snarls, flipping you both around so that you’re in his lap, the hard length of him trapped between you. The first hint of his knot is already starting to pulse at the base in his excitement. You roll your hips, rubbing your clit along the underside of his cock, automatically seeking that friction. His hands wrap around your waist and egg you on, your slick starting to coat him.

“Fuck, sweetheart, can you take me again? Let me be inside you when I - yes, that’s it baby, there you go - ”

He lifts you up just enough that you can sink down on him, and despite how wet you are and how many times you’ve done this it’s still a delicious stretch. There’s something about this position, too, where you’re face to face and chest to chest, that feels more intimate than the other times he’s fucked you. Max’s skin may be cool to the touch, but his eyes are so warm, a rich, deep, unrelenting brown you’d never truly noticed before.

He’s so beautiful, you can’t believe he’s yours.

For the weekend, you remind yourself. Just until your heat is done. You have to try your best not to lose sight of that fact.

You duck your head down to press your nose into the skin of his neck. He has a pair of scent glands here too that match yours, larger but usually less obvious. Now, though, you can see how they’re swollen and reddened like your own, and the little bird called ego flutters in your chest that that is all your doing. You swipe your tongue over one, and the taste of his pheromones is exquisite. It makes you clench around him.

“Come here,” he murmurs, guiding you up with a hand on the back of your neck. He kisses you, slow and deep, gliding his tongue across yours like he’s trying to capture the taste of himself from you.

“Are you sure?” He asks, grasping onto his very last thread of control.

“I’m sure,” you reply, offering him your neck again.

“No,” he tells you, one hand circling your wrist and pulling the inside of your arm towards his mouth. “Not your neck, baby. Too much risk.” You open your mouth to protest, but Max reaches down to circle your clit with his thumb and your ability to form complete sentences deserts you.

“Cum for me first. Let me make this so fucking good for you.”

You’re not sure how he could make this feel better than it already does, stretched on his cock that hits something deep and spine-tingling inside you at this angle, his thumb expertly working your clit and pushing you quickly towards your orgasm.

You hang onto his shoulder with your free hand and rock against him. Max rubs his nose against the soft skin just below the inside of your elbow and breathes you in. At first you think it’s a trick of the light, but then you realize his features really are starting to change. His skin darkens to a ruddy red. His brow bone thickens and distorts his face. His eyes go black, and when he speaks, you can see a hint of his fangs.

“Don’t be afraid, baby. You’re doing so well, doing so good for me. Perfect little Omega, giving her Alpha everything he wants, everything he needs - ”

But you’re not afraid; the very last thing you feel at this moment is fear. Max presses his lips against your arm, right where you know he’s going to bite you, drink from you, and it sends you over the edge.

You cry out and Max growls in triumph, finally sinking his fangs into you as you cum. It hurts for the barest moment before the pain blurs into pleasure, a numbing, tingling warmth emanating from his bite. His other hand leaves your clit and grips your hip hard enough you know you’ll bear marks from that too, pulling you down onto his cock as his knot swells and catches inside you.

It’s so much, it’s too much - you’re sure you’ve never cum so hard or felt so good in your life, and all you can do is hold Max’s head against where he suckles at your arm, breathing a litany of yes, Alpha, yes, against his temple.

Eventually, you start to come down from your high, the two of you still locked together by Max’s knot. He lifts his head away from you, blood coating his mouth, and presses his forehead (which morphs back into its usual size, shape, and color) against yours.

“Thank you,” he whispers. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

You nod, or at least you think you do. You haven’t been awake long, but you’re so tired all of a sudden, and are content to fall against Max and sleep.

———

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s time to wake up. I need you to wake up for me, c’mon now.”

Max strokes a hand up and down your arm, gently shaking you into wakefulness. It takes longer than usual for you to fight your way up to consciousness, your head a different kind of fuzzy than what you typically feel during your heat. Finally you blink your eyes open to see Max above you, and you swear you see relief cross his face when you do. He cups your cheek in one massive palm.

“There she is, my pretty Omega.”

You smile, leaning into his hand, sleep already trying to claim you again.

“No baby, stay awake for me. I need you to sit up, okay? Can you do that?”

You make a noise of protest, but allow Max to maneuver you into a sitting position. He climbs up behind you and settles you sideways across his lap, one arm supporting your back.

You rest your cheek on his chest. The lip of a bottle is pressed to your mouth.

“Drink some of this for me, okay?” Max says. “Wanna make sure your blood sugar doesn’t get too low.”

“Can I keep my eyes closed?” you mumble, still so tired.

He chuckles, and you hear it reverberate through his chest.

“Yes, baby. Now come on, drink up.”

You let him tilt the bottle and it’s not until the taste of sweet lemon-lime sports drink hits that you realize how thirsty you are. You down half the bottle before Max takes it away. Maybe Max feeding from you took more out of you than you thought.

“Eat something and then you can rest again, okay?” Max says. “Open your mouth.”

You do, and Max places a square of dark chocolate on your tongue. You close your lips a moment too soon, catching just the tip of his finger as he withdraws it. You hear him murmur a barely audible “fuck” above you, but he makes no move to turn things sexual. You let the chocolate melt in your mouth, and when it’s gone he gives you another, then another, dripping a soft litany of praise into your ear:

Good girl, that’s so good, such an obedient Omega, so good to let me take care of you like this.

He smoothes one hand over your hair and you swear you’ve never felt safer or more cared for in your entire life.

“Told you you wouldn’t take too much,” you tell him. “Told you I trusted you.”

Max’s nose nudges at your hairline.

“I was so scared there for a minute,” he admits. “You had more faith in me than I had in myself.”

“How often do you need to feed?”

“It depends,” he says. “But usually once a week or so.”

“‘M sorry I interrupted your routine.”

“Don’t be,” he rushes to reassure you. “It’s…I’m glad you did.”

And it has to be a combination of exhaustion, blood loss, and the last of your heat hormones that finally removes your self-preservation filter.

“You don’t have to say that, y’know. I know it’s just…” you wave your hand weakly in front of you, “instincts.”

You can feel Max frown.

“What are you talking about?”

You huff a sigh, still not processing the potential consequences of what you’re saying, but instead slightly annoyed at having to summon the energy to explain further.

“Instincts. Like when you call me your Omega - I know it’s just all heat of the moment stuff.” Whatever combination of factors is making you loopy also has you smiling at your pun. “And I know this isn’t even usually your thing. Being with an Omega.”

Max puts a hand around your jaw and forces you to look at him, confusion and anger starting to permeate his scent. You blink up at him.

“That’s what you think?”

“I heard you!” You say, growing indignant. “I heard you that day in the elevator, talking with all your Alpha buddies. Omegas are more trouble than they’re worth, remember?”

You having overheard this is clearly news to Max, who looks away from you. And this is the thing about heat hormones - you can’t resist the urge to soothe your Alpha, even when you’re cross with him, just like you can’t resist the way your body pingpongs from one mood to another so easily, feeling tears start to prick at your eyes.

“But it’s okay, I appreciate you helping me, and I - I promise I won’t do that clingy, needy Omega thing to you. I hid my designation for so long because it was just easier that way, you know? And we can just - just go back to how things were before, after this, and no one else at the office has to know - ”

“Fuck, I was an idiot.”

Wait, what?

“I did feel that way, for a long time. Everyone always says when you meet the right person, it’s different, and I thought that was a load of shit. I didn’t want a mate. I didn’t need a mate. I’m sorry I said those things, and I’m sorry you heard them.

“And I think…I think my Alpha knew, even from the beginning. I liked seeing you in the office. I liked talking to you. I wanted to spend time with you. And then this - ” he gestures around you, “this happened, and it feels…right. Yes, my Alpha instinct is to take care of you while you’re in heat, but I like taking care of you. I want to take care of you. I like…I like having you rely on me, I like knowing you need me. I’ve never felt that way before. And it’s, y’know…it’s not so bad.”

Max smirks, but it’s entirely self-deprecating. There is a feeling in your chest that is dangerously close to hope.

“Really?”

“Trust me, no one is more surprised than I am at this turn of events.”

“So…what happens now?”

“From your scent, I’d say you’ll be out of your heat tomorrow morning, does that sound right?” You nod. “I’d rather we finish this conversation when we’re both more clear-headed. But I think it might mean something, that we’re so…compatible. And I think we should explore that in the near future when we’re not both being driven by a bunch of chemicals that make us want to fuck each other’s brains out, if you’re amenable to that?”

“I am.”

“Good.” He smiles at you, and for once it’s not smug or coy or full of wry humor. Max smiles at you like he’s simply…happy. You want to see him smile at you like that all the time. And maybe you will.

“As for what happens right now,” and ah, there’s the smugness again, as he slides a hand between your legs and cups your mound, “I have a few ideas.”

And it turns out you’re amenable to those, too.

———

It’s Tuesday morning when you show up back at work, having taken Monday off to fully sleep off the effects of your heat and get your bracelet repaired. Max had (very nobly, he claimed) offered to take the day off too, just to make sure you were okay (“and, you know, just in case we need to have sex again” he’d told you with a grin before you’d playfully shoved him out of your apartment). But now you had his number in your phone and a promise to talk later this week.

You walk from the elevator to your cubicle, oddly nervous and excited at the prospect of seeing Max again, even if it’s barely been 24 hours. You don’t spot him, and you try not to be too disappointed. He has his own office, of course, quite a distance from you, and a very busy schedule.

But as you approach your cubicle a familiar scent greets you, and while there’s still no sign of Max, you know he’s been here recently.

A donut sits on your desk. There’s a note scribbled on the napkin underneath it, of a kind you haven’t gotten since about the third grade, but it’s so perfectly Max that it makes your heart melt a little.

Do u like me?

[ ] yes

[ ] no

If yes, dinner Friday?

[ ] yes

xoxo,

Max ;)

You reach for a pen.

[Fin.]

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #max phillips fanfic #max phillips x reader #max phillips x you #bloodsucking bastards