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ihopeinevergetsoberr · 2 years ago

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Who says I’m sharing that bath with you?

female anatomy for reader (no use of y/n, gender-neutral pronouns)

nsfw, fluffy smut basically word count: 1900~ english is not my first language. if you spot any mistakes (especially grammar ones), any typos/misspelled words, or if you have any advice for me in general: please let me know. reblogs and comments are highly appreciated.

art cr: @arcanescribbles

"Have some mercy on yourself," you mumble, wrapping an arm around his slender waist, and its thinness has you puzzled and somewhat concerned again. He doesn't hesitate. Allows you to place that weary head on his shoulder, to nuzzle into the crook of his neck — a pleasant relief in the guise of your heat, of rhythmic breath tickling his slimline skin.

"You can't work that much,” you remind him, trying to hide your evident worry behind a light-hearted chuckle.

“Have you ever heard of a proper greeting?” Viktor quirks an eyebrow, and his deft hand quickly grabs yours to do a thing that never fails to make your heart shrink: has you melting at the feeling of his dry, warm lips on your knuckles yet again.

“Hug is a proper greeting,” you protest with a slightly offended scoff, burying your nose into the gorgeous mess of his hair — all unkempt strands and a sturdy scent of something pleasant, yet not exactly definable.

“Not when it comes with scolding,” Viktor releases your hand, the touch of his lips lingering on your skin, and he turns around, forcing you to break the embrace for a second — which you do reluctantly. But now you get to face him, and it certainly feels like a much bigger win.

A win and another reason to give him a lecture. Viktor initiates eye contact, runs a hand along the perfect curve of your hips, hoping that his gentle touch is a good enough distraction from his terribly deep eye-bags — so treacherously confirming your concerns about his sleep schedule (or the lack of such, to be precise).

"You've gotten thinner," you state with a sad frown, looking Viktor up and down. "And you need a nap," you continue, tangling two fingers into his hair. "And a bath.”

“I’ve missed you terribly, and that’s the first thing you mention when I finally have you in my arms?” Viktor cooes, staring at you with a guilty smile — your love-sick genius, always exhausted yet so unexplainably handsome in his own special way.

You scoff again, wrapping your arms around his neck and gently pressing him against the desk — a small gesture of care that allows his body better support without the cane.

“Have you eaten today?” you carefully ask, watching his expression closely.

“Maybe,” he grudgingly answers, and his amber eyes are lancing right through you in the dull light of his lab — tired, attentive, pretty.

“I don’t like that answer." Your voice is a sweet purr against his skin, and he winces as you slide a hand down his chest, fixing his vest for him.

“You’re being incredibly annoying today,” he informs you, pressing a quick peck to your lips. A brief one, barely palpable, too fleeting to give you a proper taste. “Perhaps I should appease you.”

“If you want to appease me, a kiss like that won’t do.”

“Demanding, are we?” He quirks an eyebrow, casually sitting down at his desk, squeezing your waist in a playful attempt to pull you onto his lap. But you don’t move an inch. Not until he kisses you properly, at least.

He gets the hint. Gently grabs your chin, pressing your noses together — kissing the right way this time, deep and slow, with his tongue brushing your bottom lip before slipping into your open mouth — it’s almost lewd when that small motion steals a surprised moan out of you. A kiss of a hungry, fervently missing his lover man. Your man.

“Better?” His question is rhetorical at this point. He knows he left you amazed and dizzy once again — your messy breath is giving it all away. But Viktor wouldn’t be Viktor if he hadn’t asked. The incorrigible tease at his best behavior.

“Much better.”

You give him the reassurance he’s been seeking, adding the missing touch to this affectionate gesture by nuzzling into his embrace, and he hums, satisfied with the solace you’ve brought him so easily with the mere power of your presence.

“So… is my darling appeased now?”

“Relatively.” You laugh, and a self-assured smirk plasters smugly across his face. “It won’t save you from having dinner with me tonight though.”

“Is that so? Well, I appreciate the effort, and the fact that you came here just to visit your sick, touch-starved man, but I’m afraid I still have work to do—“

“I’m not here just to visit you,” you cut him off, as one of your hands slips off his neck straight to cup his sharp knee. “I’m here to collect you. I’m stealing you home with me.”

“Oh no.” He cracks an exaggeratedly offended expression, but judging from the still present on his face grin — he’s actually rather pleased with your intentions. “Being abducted definitely doesn’t sound appealing to me at all.”

“That’s right.” You nod, nudging him softly. “I’ll even hold you hostage if that’s what it takes to bathe you and get you into bed.”

“But what a horrific torture!” he pulls away, slamming a hand against his chest with a low giggle — it lands on his sternum with a muffled slap, right where his thudding heart is. “How ever will I survive that?”

“I believe your fate is inevitable, so you better just accept it.”

“How unfortunate,” he murmurs, pulling you closer, and you gasp, allowing him to lay his cheek against your chest. “Can’t wait to end up in that bath with you,” he whispers, and you hitch in breath, your shaky hands stop massaging his scalp.

“Who says I’m sharing that bath with you?” you tease light-heartedly, feeling his grip tighten around your waist.

“Me.” His response is firm and simple, yet still maddening enough for you to go weak in the knees. Apparently, his nap is being delayed again.

***

Bath with Viktor is a death sentence — a long and squirming one, of countless orgasms and moans loud enough to wake up the whole Piltover. You tried, you really did, to talk him out of it, to make him wait until at least after dinner, but he’s stubborn and knows damn well that you can’t resist him. So all your warnings about how he needs some rest first were muffled mercilessly by his tongue buried deep inside you. At this point, you’re not even sure whether he’s really that into devouring you, or if he’s just trying to prove you wrong, to show you that he’s never tired when it comes to eating you out.

He has you sitting on the edge of the bathtub, legs resting on his covered in crescent nail marks shoulders, and you tug, tug, tug on his hair as he tongue-fucks you through yet another insane release. If only he could smile right now, which was obviously impossible in his position, he would definitely give you the most provoking signature smirk. So you mentally thank his passion for giving head, since it’s the one to blame for his inability to destroy you even more with those grins and his witty dirty-talk right now. He has you right where he wants you: with your thighs wrapped tightly around his head, with your slick getting quite literally everywhere — his tongue, his chin, some on his chest, even. And when you slam your head against the wall, light-headed and breathless, he knows it’s time to do a particularly vicious thing — to suck on your abused clit so hard he might as well just suck the damn soul out of you while he’s at it.

Too much. Overwhelmingly so. And those sweat drops forming on his forehead, and the way he digs his wet fingers into the soft flesh of your legs, and the way he laps up so thoroughly—

“Gonna cum.” You gather the last strengths in your possession to mumble an illegible warning and the skillful bastard between your thighs only picks up pace, leaving you wondering how his tongue is still intact after all that frantic motions inside your cunt. But the technique is rather impressive. You stare at him, wide-eyed and with your lower lip bitten. His sinful gaze meets yours with a guttural rattle when you grip a strand of his dark hair so hard your knuckles turn white. You want to tell him how good his mouth feels, how indescribably hot he looks kneeling in the bathtub, how attractive his skin glistens right now, in the warm water. But the words are unnecessary. Your precious cussing as you come undone on his agile tongue is the best existing compliment to him.

So you deliver. He coaxes the third orgasm out of you. Leaves you throbbing, making one of your shaking legs slip off his slick shoulder into the water with a loud splash. He licks the remnants of you tauntingly slow off his swollen lips, watching your every convulsion closely, and he’s so proud of himself that it almost re-turns you on all over again.

“Look at you.” His sultry whisper reminds you that his ability to be a smartass is back.

“Viktor—“ You suffocate, grabbing his shoulder to hold on for dear life, so you don’t fall out of the tub completely. He chuckles, carefully pulling you back into the water, thoughtful as always, like the gentleman he is. Well, if rearranging your guts with that tortuous tongue and thick cock could be considered something gentlemen do, of course.

He tastes like you now. His tongue is somewhat sour, much puffier in comparison to yours, and it’s not that animate anymore — he pushes it into your mouth rather lazily, evidently worn out by the intercourse.

“I thought the purpose of this bath was to get me cleaned, not dirty,” he whispers with a filthy giggle, wiping your slick off his chin. You roll your eyes, admitting that the single thing stopping you from biting him for that joke is a complete lack of energy. Admitting that he’d just one-upped every single man you've slept with before. Once again.

“Oh, fuck you.” You giggle back, nuzzling into his chest, and it feels so gentle — the lust is gone and the only thing left between you two is pure affection; divine, immaculate, expressed through the softness of your body and the sharpness of his.

“I would be a liar if I said it doesn’t sound tempting, but I don’t believe you’re in a state to do that, my love,” Viktor teases, but you don’t talk back. He left you witless. Too fucked out for your own liking and just perfect for his. “Do you think you can make it to the kitchen?” he asks, pointing at your wobbly legs.

“Yeah.” You hesitate for a second, reluctant to get out of the warm bath. “And you?”

“Oh, I’m not hungry.” Viktor shakes his head, and his response dramatically increases your urge to pinch him. That wasn’t the deal!

“No. Not a chance, you’re not skipping dinner again.”

“But I’ve already had dinner. Well. In a way,” he whispers, as the corners of his mouth curl into another insufferable smirk, and it takes a good ten-second uncomfortable pause for you to understand the pun.

“Eating pussy is not an actual meal,” you frown, pulling away.

“And that’s so unfortunate, don’t you think? At least that way, I’d never skip them…”

“Viktor!”

#viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor arcane #viktor smut #i need to be spayed #no beta we die like men

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psicheanima · 2 months ago

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Rodya Linguistic Analysis

Do not mention any events after Canto 2 in the notes or tags of this post, thank you.

Rodya’s most noticeable feature about her language is her switches between a casual, almost theatrical register when she’s “playing a part” (always) and a more restrained, terse style when she’s upset.

Rodya’s sentences are mostly mid-length, often using ellipses and dropping subjects or auxiliary verbs. These omissions help create a conversational tone that feels intimate and offhand, as though she is speaking to people with whom she has established a rapport with no matter who the subject is.

Her speech is casual and free-flowing, more like natural conversation than structured prose. There’s a rhythm to it—almost musical, with interjections and rhetorical flourishes. Her loose, easygoing sentence structure makes her approachable. It reinforces her need to be liked, to feel included.

However, when the conversation starts creeping toward something painful, she breaks it up with childish phrasing, either steering things away before they can get too heavy or trying to dismiss the importance of her very own emotional involvement by dumbing herself down as she frequently does with Sonya. Note her inability to let the conversation end on a sincere note, diminishing both herself and him, and both the ideals that drove them apart in the same way.

[His idealistic self-important role (dweeb’s leadership) vs her impulsive hands-on-involvement (being a rowdy rascal).]

It’s the verbal equivalent of leaving home to avoid facing what she’s done—avoidance is second nature to her.

She doesn’t speak in clear-cut subject-verb-object constructions when dealing with difficult emotions. Instead, she hedges, leans on metaphors, and sidesteps direct statements or explicit emotional qualifiers such as “I feel”, “I’m upset”. Even when she tries to be honest, she can’t quite say it outright. By the end of her canto, die to her distress, this becomes heavily exaggerated.

Rodya frequently uses rhetorical compliment-fishing questions as a way to signal emotional distress without directly expressing vulnerability. These questions aren’t meant to solicit an answer but rather to create a sense of distance from the topic at hand and a sense among her peers that she thinks highly of herself. It’s a way for her to challenge the situation indirectly while avoiding exposing any deeper emotional reactions.

Similarly, Rodya often holds back information until she’s ready to release it, framing her omissions as strategic rather than due to a lack of trust. Her phrasing creates an illusion that her withholding of the truth is somehow rooted in a sisterly sort of “looking out”, rather than her over reliance on herself. (This cynical nature being what makes her “take things into her own hands” in District 25.)

Rodya uses diminutives for both people and objects as a form of pragmatic softening, disarming, and maintaining social dominance rather than a more straightforward, simple affection. This faux-friendless allows her to control interactions and maintain friendless while keeping others at a comfortable emotional distance. In this case, she switches to a dismissive “sweetie” rather than her usual “babe”. Both show camaraderie, but her true intentions for the nicknames aren’t related to that rather than letting her have a sense of it is without actually putting in the work of forming an open connection with someone.

She’s actually the harshest toward the people she cares about the most. Dante and Gregor, both of whom she has clear affection for (and in Dante’s case, respect), are the ones she dehumanizes the most in a light hearted, almost casually cruel offhanded way— exclusively when it comes to their deformities. But that disgust is performative. When she truly dislikes someone, her insults are ironic, distant, and impersonal— just as when she dislikes something, she avoids it.

This tracks with how she handles difficult topics. When forced to confront something serious, her tone shifts—she drops the embellishments, speaks in a more neutral, detached way, and keeps things short and to the point. Even when she uses metaphorical abstractions, it’s to create distance between herself and her emotions, not to add a flourish to her words like she usually does. Though her speech is still littered with contractions, it’s more of a street-wise woman than the immaturity she fakes.

The substance of her speech is secondary to the performance itself. She's not necessarily interested in whether what she says is deeply impactful, but rather in conveying an image of confidence, independence, and self-sufficiency. This reflects a deeper insecurity, a need to assert control over how she is perceived (as she feels Sonya has so deeply misunderstood her) without directly confronting her own vulnerabilities.

In conclusion: Rodya’s seemingly childish language is a deliberate choice, each word selected with care. Her True Tone is cold, and every sentence is purposeful—used to deflect, protect, or control. By minimizing her intellect or trivializing serious matters, she’s able to shield herself.

#limbus company #rodion #rodya #project moon #linguistics #analysis #meta

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astrolynnworld · 1 year ago

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eiffle tower

pairing: matt & chris x reader

summary: chris sees the way you look at matt. so he gives you the opportunity to have both

warnings: smut! cheating, plot twist, exhibition, degradation, praise, language, oral, penetration, switch matt, dom chris, pig roast, little bit of aftercare.

a/n- the highly requested duo smut 😩

word count: 2,073

i love chris so much but .. sometimes i can’t help the idea of “what if i had chose matt instead”

he carries himself so well and despite the fact that they’re triplets.. i really do see him as another version of chris

the version that is more tame.

whenever he sits with us at dinner and he just looks so pretty and proper

just eating his meal, observing the conversation, sharing a joke here and there.

he’s not too loud or quiet, he’s the perfect middle ground of enjoyable.

and he’s so caring towards me when chris isn’t around

he’s cooking? he’ll serve me first. dropped my phone? he’ll pick it up for me. too anxious to speak up? he’ll talk for me, regardless of the fact that he also has anxiety.

maybe it’s because i’m his brothers girlfriend but i just sense the underlying message of care

often times then not, chris will catch me staring off into a haze at matt.

i always have to play it off as if i just got lost in thought.

i mean i did get lost in thought..

the thought of matt’s eyes rolled back as i strok-

“y/n??” matt snaps me back into focus

“mhm?” i question as i stand at the fridge door aimlessly

“i think you dozed off again” he laughs slightly, “did you hear what i said?”

i shake my head no softly as i take a seat on the chairs behind me

“you okay?” he asks while inching closer and putting a hand on my shoulder

i look up at him standing over me

“i’m fine” i mutter out

“you’ve been out of it a lot lately. wanna know what would help?” he asks rhetorically

you.

“what?” i say before chris walks into the kitchen

“a hot tub?” chris answers, acknowledging that he had heard a bit of our conversation

“you always wanna go to the hot tub” i laugh as i switch my gaze to him

“it’s not the worst idea chris has had” matt remarks

“i could be down for a hot tub” i reply enthusiastically now that matt is down

“i’ll go ask nick if he wants to come while you guys get ready” matt says

“wait im coming with” chris follows behind matt

i walk back into the bedroom and roam around for something to wear

shortly after, chris comes back into the room

“nicks not coming, he has a fever” he informs as he tries to grab his swim shorts

i nod my head and sit on the bed as i watch him change

“see something you like?” he flirts as he slowly approaches me

“a whole lot” i smile as i look up to him for a kiss

“alright love birds. we can go now” matt comes in fully dressed

i grab my bag and quickly follow behind matt

our go to hot tub spot was at the warehouse, which was only 10 minutes away from their house

once we get there, matt grabs his key card so he can unlock the gate to the pool

we trail around the side of the pool and make our way to the hot tub

they both take off their shirts before stepping into the hot tub

i could see the masculine structure lining in their backs

the broadness of their shoulders

the width of their arms as they lean back against the wall of the hot tub

i’m so lucky that i at least get to fuck one of them bec-

“wait! i forgot my headphones at the warehouse last time. i need to grab them before i forget again” chris says in a hurry as he gets out the hot tub and makes his way back to the house

“and bring some towels please” matt shouts after him

“watch him come back with none” i chuckle at his attempt

“no yeah for sure. kids gonna come back with a pepsi and forgot what he even went in for” he says as we share a laugh

“how do you even put up with him?” he says in a curious manner

“what do you mean?” i question

he starts to inch closer from the other side of the hot tub

“i see how you act, you’re not like him. you’re polite.. clean.. civil.. well mannered. how do you put up with him?” he says while fully towering me

“i- we- well because i love him” i nervously speak

“do you love him? because i see the way you look at me y/n”

i freeze in my spot

“you think i don’t notice but i do. you’d rather be with me huh? you’d rather it be me that you lay with every night right?” he taunts over me

“me who fucks you to sleep? every. single. night.” he whispers into my ear

“matt what are you doing..” i shyly whisper out

“say it baby. say you want me instead” he puts his nose to mine

i look into his eyes, “i want you instead”

he closes the gap between our lips with passion

sloppily pulling away and going back in for more as he wraps his hands around my waist

i feed into the passion, feeling a fire of energy ignite in me

“i KNEW it.”

i heard a voice speak from above us

i jump back from matt’s arms as i look up to see an angry chris standing outside the hot tub

matt starts to slowly back away as chris gets back in the hot tub and comes straight for me

he grabs my throat, “you’re such a slut. making out with my brother when i’m less than 30 feet away? you thought i wouldn’t find out or you just didn’t care?” he asks

i stay silent as i try to release his grip from my throat. only making him squeeze harder

“you know.. i had a feeling you were a slut. that’s why i put him up to this”

————————————————————

earlier:

“wait i’m coming with” i followed behind matt

after y/n walks back to my room i stop matt in his tracks

“i might need you to do a weird favor for me.” i speak hesitantly

matt was a great brother but i don’t know how deep that great would go for me

“what?” he asks

“i need you to tempt y/n into cheating on me”

“.. why the fuck would i do that?” he questions

“i’ve been seeing the way she looks at you recently. i need to know if she would or wouldn’t fold”

he can hear the genuineness in my voice. i wouldn’t ask him to do something like this if i wasn’t serious

i still love her..

i just needed to know if she likes him or not, how far she was willing to go about it.

“alright bro. i’ll try” he says before continuing to walk up to nick’s room

————————————————————

present:

i gasp as i start to find it hard to breathe.

he lets go of my throat and pulls my hair back so i can look him in the eyes

“you wanna fuck my brother so bad right?”

he pulls my head back to matt

“here. have him”

he turns me around and bend me over in front of matt

“bro.. i don’t know about-“ matt starts to speak

chris grabs my throat and shrinks down to my face, “tell him how much you want him baby. tell him how you want him to put it in. beg for it”

i silently stare at him in shock of his new aggression

“tell him.” he slaps my cheek

“please put it in matt.” i turn back and speak

“beg him for it” chris continues

“please matt, i beg you. just put your cock inside me”

matt slides my bathing suit to the side and slowly starts to align himself with my hole despite the water making it hard to see

“good girl” chris speaks before placing a kiss on the cheek he just slapped

matt lets out a heavy breath as he slides himself along my walls

i gasp as i feel the added pressure

“feels good doesn’t it baby? feels good to be a slut right?” chris speaks

i nod my head with my pout

“say it baby. say it feels good to be a slut” chris adds in

“it feels good to be a slut” i whimper out as i back into matts cock while he meets me halfway

chris traces his fingers against my lips, “who’s slut are you?”

“yours chris. i do whatever you say” i whine out as i squint my eyes from the feeling of matt’s cock hitting against my cervix

“mhmm. so good for me baby” chris says as he pushes his fingers in my mouth for me to suck

i can faintly hear matt trying to hold back his moans and whimpered pleasure as he feels my walls suck him in

the tightness of my walls clenching and pulling around him as he struggles to identify wether it’s the warm silky wetness is from me, or the hot tub.

shutting his eyes to focus on the pleasure

chris on the other hand, is so turned on by the idea of me getting slutted out for his pleasure

he likes the idea of another man being able to enjoy me like he does

i can see the bulge peering out through his swim shorts

i couldn’t let him go attentionless so i free his cock and start to jerk it under the water

he pulls away from me and slaps me once again

“did i give you permission to touch me slut?”

i pout and shake my head no

he places his cock on my cheek, “fuck. i could cover your whole face baby”

“please put it in my mouth daddy” i beg, tired of the teasing

“you want me to face fuck you baby? you wanna be a good girl and let daddy face fuck you?” he rhetorically questions

“yes please. please put your cock in my mouth and use me to your pleasure” i whine out before he shoves his cock in my mouth and starts to fuck into me

it’s like every time chris pulls out of my mouth, matt pushes into my hole. and when chris pushes back in, matt pulls out

it was a back and forth train of stimulation that sent my head into a spiral

i lost all my thoughts and all i could focus on was the whines and whimpers that poured out of my mouth into chris’s cock

“fuck keep moaning baby. it feels so good around my cock” chris whines out

“you’re squeezing- around my cock y/n.. fuck i don’t know how much longer i’m gonna last.” matt throws his head back as he starts to speed up the pace, sending me flying into chris’s dick

i know im gonna cum soon. i just feel so dirty, getting fucked and stuffed by two brothers in a public hot tub. it felt so nasty and so wrong, i couldn’t help but think of how hot that was

and imagining if someone caught us. how gross and nasty they would think i am. how much of a slut im being right now. fuck i’m gonna cum

i squeeze around matts cock as i let out my orgasm.

as soon as i finish i feel matt pull out of me, followed by trickles of warm liquid splatter all over my back.

“you’re such a fucking slut baby. you let guys cum all over you? you like when guys treat you like a fucking toy and use you to their liking?” chris continues to degrade

“fuck i’m gonna cum baby.” he finishes his final thrusts before coating my throat with his cum

he pulls out and i sit up in the hot tub with a fucked out expression, not being able to think for myself.

tears dry up against my face from not being able to breathe

matt starts to fix and play with my hair while chris wipes my eyes

“it’s okay baby, i still love you” chris says as kisses into my lips

i don’t respond. still trying to regain my sense

“we should probably get her back to the house” matt suggests

“yeah. let’s go” chris adds before he picks me up and carries me back to the car in a cradle position.

————————————————————

a/n- hope yall enjoyed 😘 i put my back into this one fr

taglist: @sturniologirlfriend @cutiepatootie36273 @secret-sturniolo @sturns-blog @sturniolo-2003 @mayaaatok @sturnswrites @mattsleftnipple03 @mattybswife @tropicasturn @princessbetsy123-blog <333

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fairyhaos · 10 months ago

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◈ right next to the heart // chwe hansol

vernon x gn!reader, 1.9k+ words

tags: requested by @weird-bookworm, non-idols au, established relationship, hurt/comfort

warnings: pet names (darling), food mention

notes: writing this made me realise that writing hurt comfort where yn is in the wrong is so rare,,, but this was so entertaining to write ^^

“You’ve been ignoring me all day.”

Hansol looks up at you from his bowl of dumplings and shrimp tempura that he’d been ready to devour before you’d spoken. Today is Chinese takeout day, and he’s been craving tempura for ages.

“Um.” He sets down his chopsticks, seeing the upset frown on your face. “No, I haven’t?”

It seems to be the wrong thing to say, because you frown even further, face scrunching up in annoyance. “Yes, you have. When was the last, actual conversation we had today?”

The question sounds rhetorical, but you’re staring at Hansol like he needs to give an actual answer, so he swallows unsurely, thinking back.

It’s a Saturday, so both of you have been at home, doing nothing but having a chill day. That morning, however, you’d come up to him whilst he was lounging on the couch, informing him that you didn’t feel too well so you planned to lie in bed for most of the day.

“Okay,” Hansol had said, looking up at you worriedly. “Is everything alright?”

He’d sat up, reaching upwards to feel your forehead, but you’d shaken your head and waved his concern away.

“I’m fine. I’m not, like, sick. I just feel a bit down? So I’m going to stay in bed.”

Hansol had nodded at that, understanding. “Okay. Just let me know if you need anything.”

You’d promised you would, and that had been the last he’d seen of you.

That interaction seems to be the correct answer, so Hansol turns to you, blinking a little unsurely. “Uh, when you told me you wanted to stay in bed this morning? You weren’t feeling too good.”

“Oh, so you do remember,” you say, sounding both irritated and upset, and now Hansol is most definitely lost. “If you knew that I was having a bad day today, then why did you purposefully ignore me? Do you really care so little about me?”

Your words hit him like a punch to the throat, and Hansol feels so startlingly hurt by your statement that he can’t say anything back, mouth hanging open in shock, astounded.

His Chinese takeout is now completely forgotten, the mood souring so abruptly and he doesn’t feel like eating anymore. Not with the way you’re looking at him, with the words that you’d just uttered that leave him reeling. He never imagined that you'd say something like that to him.

You scoff as his mind stays completely blank, still in shock.

“You can’t even say anything in your defence, can you?” You roughly stand up from the dining table, chair scraping against the floor and storm off, all the way back to your room. The sound of you slamming the door echoes throughout the apartment.

Hansol still sits there, feeling confused and… very hurt. He doesn’t know what he did wrong. He doesn’t know how your mind jumped to the conclusion that he doesn’t care about you, which is so wrong on so many levels that he feels his heart squeezing painfully at the implication that he did something to make you think that way.

But the pain is kind of offset by the fact that Hansol doesn’t know what he did. Why are you acting like this?

He can’t very well get the answers he’s looking for by just sitting there and not talking to you, so he stands up too, and makes his way to your room.

“Y/N,” he says, knocking on your door. “Y/N, hey, talk to me. What are you talking about?”

“Go away,” is your muffled reply. It sounds like you’ve buried your face in the cushions. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Y/N,” Hansol repeats, “please talk to me. I’m sorry you feel like this, okay? But I don’t know why you’re upset. I need to know what I did wrong. Please open the door and talk to me.”

You stay silent.

Hansol sighs. He raps his knuckles against your door again, contemplating, before deciding to pull out his most effective tactic.

“Darling,” he says, very quietly. “Darling, please, can we talk about this?”

You love pet names. Love the corny affection of it, how it’s like a special name for your significant other. Hansol doesn’t really understand the appeal, because he prefers to say your name over anything else, but, well. He loves you. He’ll do anything to show that he loves you, always.

“Please open the door for me, darling.”

There’s a very long moment where he thinks you’re still refusing to budge, but then the doorknob turns very slowly, and you open the door a sliver.

Hansol puts his hand on the door, opening it just a little more so he can look at you properly, see your face better. You won’t look at him, head tilted down sullenly, but Hansol opens his mouth and begins to speak anyway.

“You said that I’ve been ignoring you. What makes you think that?”

He can see you clench teeth, jaw set tight. You still don’t look at him.

“Why do you care?”

“I—” Hansol sighs, tired, and pushes open the door fully, before stepping into your room and dragging you over to sit down on the bed. “Why are you acting like this?” he asks, once both of you are seated.

You’re still steadfastly refusing his gaze, so he brings a hand to your chin and forces your eyes upwards.

“Why?” he asks again. “What is making you think that I no longer care about you? You told me you were having a bad day, Y/N, so I let you stay in bed and relax. Why does that make you think I’ve been ignoring you?”

“Because you were!” you burst out, waving your hands angrily. At least you’re keeping eye contact, now, burning with upset. “I was having a bad day, and what did you do? Leave me to rot in my room all by myself! You left me alone, Hansol, and ignored me!”

Hansol blinks, dumbfounded. “You never asked me to stay with you,” he says back. “I told you to shout for me if you needed anything, but you didn’t, so I thought you were fine.”

You huff, irritated, like Hansol is the one acting unreasonably here, and he’s beginning to feel a little like he’s being wronged.

“You’re my boyfriend,” you say, like it’s obvious. Your eyes look glassy. “You should know these things about me, and be there for me without me even asking!”

And then, like you’ve had enough of this conversation, you get up from the bed and storm out, again. Hansol rubs his eyes, feeling drained. He understands that you’ve been having a bad day, which is made obvious by how something as little as this is making you explode in his face.

He feels bad for you, of course, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel incredibly frustrated with the way you’re acting. None of this is his fault.

“Y/N,” he says despairingly, getting up to go look for you once more. “Y/N, come on, we really need to talk through this. You’re not being fair.”

“Just leave me alone,” you say, voice floating through the apartment from the living room, and he enters to find you sitting on the couch, hugging your knees. There are tears now running down your cheeks, eyes beginning to get all puffy, and you frown at him as he sits down next to you.

Hansol looks at you, and then looks away. He reaches over for the box of tissues kept on the coffee table, and hands one to you. You look down at it, before reaching over for the box and getting a tissue yourself.

He tries not to feel too slighted by the obvious snub, and folds up the tissue to put into his own pocket. And then he continues to sit there, observing you quietly as you blow your nose and rub at your eyes, still crying silently.

After a few minutes, you look over at him with puffy eyes. “What are you doing?”

He shrugs, a little meek. “I’m trying not to leave you alone.”

You give a watery huff, trying to scowl even as your lips tremble, and you look down at your knees once again. You’re not in a mood to talk—he’s accepted that. But he’ll just wait until you are.

───────────── 📼

It takes almost half an hour, but eventually you wipe your eyes for the last time, take a deep breath, and turn around on the couch to properly face him. Hansol immediately snaps to attention, turning his body to face you too.

“Sorry,” you mutter, sullenly. “I was being a brat.”

He sighs. “You were,” he admits, not unkindly. “I’m just your boyfriend, darling. Not a mind reader. There’s always going to be stuff that you need to tell me about, if you want something. I can’t automatically know things all the time.”

“Yeah, I know, I just—” You scrub your eyes, shoulders slumping. “I’ve been having a really bad day. It’s no excuse, I know,” you add, before he says anything, “but it’s been really, really bad, today.”

Hansol nods sympathetically, and reaches over to pat your hair. “I know. And I want you to tell me that, so I can help. We need to communicate this stuff to each other.”

“Okay. Yeah, okay. I should’ve told you instead of just blowing up all in your face like that,” you say, and your eyes flick up to look at him. “I’m sorry. I really, really am.”

You say it so quietly, no trace of any lingering anger or sulkiness in your tone, and Hansol kind of melts. He’s always been soft for you, and it’s evident now as he instantly opens his arms for a hug, letting you press up into him, face buried into his shoulder.

“It was really stupid of me to think that you’d just read my mind,” you say into the fabric of his t-shirt. “I’m so sorry, Hansol. And—god, I’m so sorry for saying that you don’t care about me. I know you do, so much, all the time, and I’m sorry for saying that. It’s not true, and I know it.”

“Hey, hey,” Hansol says, rubbing circles into your back to calm you down before you can work yourself up any more. “It’s okay. It’s okay, darling, I know.”

There comes sniffling sounds from below his chin. “I’m sorry.”

He smiles. “I know that too. And I forgive you.”

You sniff again. "You forgave me way too easily," you say, guiltily, words all blurred with remorse. "You always forgive people so easily."

He pats your back slowly, and he can't explain it, but his heart swells a little at your words. Something about the softness of your tone, the acceptance that you've done something to hurt him, the genuine guilt and also the love... You're essentially berating him for being too forgiving, but all he can think about is how much he loves you.

"Maybe," he says, as nonchalantly as he can with the affection blending into his voice. "But I still forgive you."

You make a soft noise at that, before burying yourself to hide further in the crook of Hansol’s neck, and he lets you.

“Hey,” you say after a moment, soft. “I love you.”

Hansol smiles, the genuine affection in your words saying more than what those mere eight letters can convey. He kisses the top of your head.

“I love you too,” he returns, and pulls away a bit so he can see your face, tilting your head up so that you make eye contact. His eyes are focused on you, gentle and kind. “Let’s communicate with each other more about this stuff, yeah? I don’t want you to think that I don’t care about you again.”

There’s a moment where your eyes search his, darting back and forth before you smile, and lean back into his arms.

“Don’t worry. I already know.”

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect @dokyeomkyeom @suraandsugar @haodore @tulsa24 @melodicrabbit

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recreationaldivorce · 9 months ago

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i think the main problem is that these ironically rationalist-adjacent types are exemplifying the "no investigation, no right to speak" principle because they're all asking rhetorical questions about palestinian fundraiser vetters that can easily be answered if you've been reading the vetters' posts about their vetting processes. missing basic information like not knowing that people in gaza need someone else to set up a gfm on their behalf, or not knowing about how stringent gfm is about vetting fundraisers especially gaza fundraisers. like how the fuck are people not only seriously making the point of "omg they forgot to set their location to outside europe" but also getting others to reblog it sincerely? NO INVESTIGATION, NO RIGHT TO SPEAK! how about you gain the slightest familiarity with subject matter before trying to opine on it and you may find yourself "less wrong"

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briardoll · 1 year ago

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The Obey Me! Characters react to an MC who talks to themselves!

Lucifer actually thinks it’s kind of cute, but worries you may be lonely, or quite possibly mentally ill. He may ask why you talk to yourself so much so please assure him that you’re fine!!

Mammon thinks you’re crazy, “who likes talkin’ to themselves??” Maybe it’s a weird human thing, or maybe you’re just a weird human. Either way he’s gonna bust in and ask why you’re so passionate in your hatred for modern art. (The kind of stuff where they paint a canvas entirely blue or tape a banana to a canvas and call it art. <- defo isn’t something I’M passionately hateful about (¬_¬))

Levi understands completely what it’s like to have to converse with yourself because you know nobody else understands/cares about what you’re saying. Comes in and tries his best to listen and understand your thoughts!

Satan stands outside and eavesdrops on what you’re saying, uses the information he earns to one-up his brothers by knowing what you like/dislike without ever having asked or being told directly. It creeps you out until you come out of your room unexpectedly and catch him spying.

Asmo will originally think that your live-streaming something and check all your socials, (why would you stream without telling him!? He wants to watch every second you know!) when there are no lives to be found, he comes in and asks to help film the deviltube video with you, realizing there’s no video to film either he decides to get in on the conversation and even agrees with what you’re saying! He never knew you had that much in common before!!

Beel thinks you must be hallucinating, it’s because you haven’t eaten enough of course!! He brings you your favorite meals, drinks, and snacks so that you can regain your mental stability. You tell him that you just talk to yourself to get your thoughts out somewhere and it confuses him, he’s a man of not too many words, and if it’s not about food he’s doesn’t usually pay enough attention to form an opinion. Eats snacks with you and listens to what you have to say.

Belphie thinks you talk way too much about things that aren’t important. Does laugh when he hears about the time a cicada flew in your mouth one summer as a child. “So you’ve never known how to keep your mouth shut, huh?” Whoops, gave himself away, now you know he’s there!!! (Definitely never happened to me and I’m definitely NOT speaking from experience! Actually… yes it did. I’m scared of cicadas TO. THIS. DAY.)

Diavolo thinks you talk to yourself because he doesn’t make enough time for you! He feels bad that you feel the need to talk to yourself because he’s made you so lonely! Please promise him that he did nothing wrong! He’ll still deploy a little D. To be your conversation partner when he’s busy with paperwork.

Barbatos only requests that you speak to yourself quietly, the young lord is working you know! At least now he knows your likes and dislikes better and can better cater to your needs. (him and Satan have similar mindsets in this regard)

Simeon wonders in you’re recording some kind of podcast. He’s never found it online, but it doesn’t bother him because he can listen from right outside your door. Is always excited to know what the next episode is about!

Luke comes in and asks you if you’re sick, when you tell him no, he asks if you’re lonely. You could’ve just asked him to talk! Baked some sweets and shares them with you while you talk about your common interests.

Solomon responds randomly to your rhetorical questions from outside the door. You tell him to go away and that you weren’t talking to him, just when you think he’s gone he answers you again and laughs, it’s now a fun game for him to play when he visits you.

Thirteen plays pranks on you while you do it, knocks on the door really hard and then hides so that when you open it nobody’s there! Will go to the electrical breaker in the house and switch the lights in your room on and off to hear you scream in terror.

Raphael thinks a curse might’ve been placed on you, asks if he needs to rain spears onto the person who did this to you, you tell him that no, you weren’t cursed, you’re just like this. He now thinks you are very odd and may possibly need some kind of mental help.

Mephisto will not tolerate your stupidity. If there is nobody in the room, you simply don’t speak, you aren’t filming a video, you aren’t talking on the phone, and you’re certainly not normal for acting like this! Cease it at once!

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holllandtrash · 2 years ago

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fragile line | daniel ricciardo

pairing: daniel ricciardo x driver!reader

You and I walk a fragile line I have known it all this time But I never thought I'd live to see it break

what happens when the driver daniel falls in love with, ends up being the one who brings his career to a screeching halt? word count: 7.7k (im so sorry) warnings/tags: fluff-ish, plot with implied/very little smut, angst, mclaren danny, zak brown (gross), some incorrect f2 stats but whatever, time jumps, really just a lot of angst, its a rollercoaster

“What do you know?”

“What do you know?” Daniel repeated the question back to you, the emphasis making it clear as day that you both carried the same career-altering information.

His signature grin and comforting optimism were nowhere to be seen. Instead, Daniel’s expression could be described in a variety of ways. Solemn, disappointed, hurt.

“What was I supposed to do?” You asked, going straight to the defensive. You couldn’t be helpful in this scenario, you just needed to explain yourself. He wouldn’t understand it from your perspective, but you had to try.

“Not take the seat,” he offered a solution, as if it was that simple. “My god, I mean, they’re cutting my contract early, Y/N. For you.”

“For the sake of the team,” you corrected. You had no say in this. McLaren had plenty of driver options for the 2023 season. There were rumours of Daniel’s contract coming to an end a year early anyway, everyone heard them, everyone ignored them. The only thing that remained uncertain for a while was who would replace him should the rumours be true.

You.

“You don’t even like McLaren.” You told him, voice raising a little as if that helped get the point across. “You’ve struggled with this team since day one.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to stop racing.”

“McLaren is not the team for you and you know this.”

Daniel scoffed, eyebrows twitching, “Did Zak tell you to say that?”

It was a rhetorical question, but Daniel noticed the way your bottom lip quivered. He caught the way your eyes dropped from his, even just for a split second. There was something unspoken between you, something that weighed on your mind and Daniel stepped forward, wanting to know what exactly it was.

“Zak-” you started, reluctant to even say this. “-he doesn’t know I’m here. I’m not supposed to be here. I’m not supposed to talk to you or anyone about it, not until your announcement comes out.”

Here meaning Daniel’s flat in Monaco. The place you spent more nights at than your own. You played it off by saying his view was better but that was such a bullshit answer. Daniel’s flat always felt more like home than yours ever did.

You had formally met the Australian driver a few years ago, but god did time fly. It was at a race in Monza. You could pretend you didn’t know the date but of course you did, you had it memorised. September 3rd, 2020. There was no way you could forget the day your life changed for the better.

Or possibly, for the worse. It was up in the air at this point.

You were new to the Formula 2 series. The only female driver on the grid as you raced with Prema alongside Mick Schumacher. F3 proved to be quite a successful stint for you and you had your eyes set on the coveted Formula 1 series. You wanted to be in the big leagues.

Daniel saw that. He saw how determined you were to not only make waves in Motorsport, but to make something of yourself. You trained just as hard, if not harder than the other drivers in the junior series and Daniel had seen that for a while. He was often surprised to see you at the hotel gym, already working up a sweat when he walked in at a little after 6am. He would be even more surprised when he saw you there in the evening when other drivers went and called it a night or even went and celebrated.

Your race weekends were the same as F1 weekends, but you just had limited ones. It was a shorter season, less intense, but whenever you were there. Daniel saw you. He saw you and he paid attention. He even rooted for you, very publicly as well whenever he could, despite the two of you never having exchanged a word.

The first time you heard about Daniel cheering you on was after the Monaco race, quite early on into your first season. You qualified 7th, not ideal for a track like Monaco where the opportunities to overtake were far and few between, but somehow you did it. And then you did it again. And you could say it was luck but it was really smart strategy and an insane amount of driver skill that had you finishing fifth. In Monaco.

Those were Daniel’s words. He was asked pre-race if he watched the F2 run and he said of course. He said he “wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” wanting to see what you could do this weekend.

“It’s not luck, she’s incredibly talented,” Daniel had told the Sky Sports reporter. “She’s doing big things in the series, and I’m rooting for her. Truly. It’s rare a driver comes around with such raw natural talent, where you look at them and you know racing’s just in their blood, but it’s in hers. I would love to see her in Formula 1 one day.”

You watched that interview clip about twenty times. Daniel Ricciardo, the Daniel Ricciardo who had won Monaco a few years back, was complimenting you. He was rooting for you.

It wasn’t until Monza, nearing the end of your season that he finally approached you.

“I want to work with you,” Daniel said, straight to the point. You were in the middle of stretching in the hotel's fitness centre. It was only Thursday, the race weekend itself had barely started but Daniel knew he’d find you in there.

You pulled your airpods out and looked up at him in the mirror, “You what?”

“I want to work with you,” Daniel repeated, this time sitting down on the floor next to you. He kept your stare in the reflection. “I’m not a trainer by any means, but I want to work with you. I want to see you in Formula 1.”

You were flattered, honoured really, but you didn’t know what that entailed. “Work with me how?”

“Well, regular fitness training for starters,” he said. “But managing, really. I want to help you with everything that it takes to move up. Media training, mental preparedness, finding sponsors, getting you in touch with the right people. Let me help you, Y/N.”

You weren’t sure what brought this on. Part of you was convinced it was because he knew this would look good on his behalf. If you did make it to Formula 1 and Daniel’s name was attached to yours, he’d look like a genius. A hero. He would be known as the first person from F1 to publicly support you.

But that wasn’t what it was at all. When you agreed and accepted his help, you soon came to learn that Daniel didn’t want to be in your spotlight at all. He found the opportunities that you needed and then stepped back. He didn’t mention to the media at all that he was helping you, he didn’t see a need to. He saw your potential and he truly wanted to help you make something off.

So there he was during the off season, meeting you in London where you resided. He trained with you, set you up with the right people, did weekly check-ins, he really was like a sort of manager.

He was there during pre-season testing the following year, literally. He stood in the Prema garage like he was just another member of the team. No one really questioned it, not when you said he was acting as a mentor to you. Everyone loved Daniel’s presence there and he was told he was welcome whenever.

He was there during race weekends whenever he could find time in his own busy schedule. He was never there during the actual race, needing that time to prepare for his own, but he always watched from his drivers room or had someone in his ear updating where you were and what was happening.

He was there in Silverstone, when you crashed during Saturday's Sprint Race.

It was one of the last sessions of the day, Daniel had already finished qualifying and he was standing in the back of your garage, arms crossed over his chest, eyes glued to the screen.

He was the first voice you heard when you spun, losing the breaks in mere seconds and all you could do was brace yourself for the impact of the barriers.

“Tell me you’re okay.” Daniel’s voice came through your radio. Not your engineer, not your team principal. Daniel. “Say something, sweets, tell me you're okay.”

Sweets, he called you. But only ever in private, or in front of close friends. What started as a joke when you complained about him not having any sweets in his flat the first time you visited in Monaco, stuck.

But everyone had access to the team radios. It could be heard by other engineers, other teams, fans even and those watching at home should F1TV choose to broadcast it.

Of course they did. They aired the exchange for everyone to hear and it spread like wildfire. It was all anyone on social media could talk about.

“Say something, sweets. Tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” you sputtered out, hands shaking as you unclenched them. It was an instinct to pull them off the steering wheel and tuck your arms to your chest, physically bracing where you could.

“Good,” Daniel breathed out a very obvious sigh of relief. “Good.” He paused, and then with a quiet chuckle added, “What the fuck was that then?”

You laughed in response, needing the humour at such a traumatic time. You had crashed before, but this was a bad one. You didn’t even need to step out of the vehicle to know you were lucky to not feel any immediate injuries, but there was a ringing in your ear and the adrenaline was preventing you from really understanding the damage your body had sustained.

It wouldn’t have helped, though, to have gotten an earful, not like it was your fault anyway. It also wouldn’t have helped if you were asked again and again if you were okay. The more people asked, the more stressed you would grow. Daniel knew you needed a bit of lightheartedness at this time.

“No brakes, Danny,” you answered through a soft laugh.

“That just sounds like an excuse to me,” he muttered, the sarcasm evident even through the crackling radio.

“Are you going to continue to question my driving abilities or are you going to send medical out here to help me?”

That whole interaction went viral. From the radio message, to the clips of Daniel accompanying you to the medical centre, to the photos of the two of you smiling in the paddock despite the bruising on your body, the concussion you were diagnosed with and the instruction from the doctor that you were not stable enough to race on Sunday.

Which sucked, to put it plainly. But you were with Daniel. He made the situation bearable. With his arm around your shoulder, he walked you to the car at the end of the day, having waited with you the whole time.

People speculated, of course. Questions were asked.

Why was Daniel Ricciardo paying such close attention to you? Why did he get over the radio when he crashed? Why did it sound so flirty? Had he been in your garages the whole time and no one noticed? Was he a mentor? A friend? More?

You had put out a statement when you got to the hotel, thanking everyone for the kind words and well wishes. You shared that you would not be driving on Sunday and you also shared that you were thankful for the support of Daniel Ricciardo, your mentor, who reminded you that even the best of the best crash out sometimes.

Mentor, you publicly called him That’s what he was, right? Or trainer. Or Manager. Or friend, really. There were a lot of words to describe his relationship to you.

People online didn’t believe it. They thought there was more because, who looks at each other like that if they’re not fucking?

But you weren’t. Honest to god, that line with Daniel was never crossed. You never even considered it. Always content with his companionship and his advice, you didn’t want anything physical or romantic.

At least, you thought you didn’t.

Daniel dragged you into his room instead of letting you go up to yours because you were under strict instructions to not be left alone for the next twelve hours should the concussion worsen.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, handing you a glass of water. “I know I joked over the radio, but I was worried. It wasn’t a pretty crash.”

“Are any crashes pretty?”

He sat down next to you, closer than normal considering when he rested his arm over the back of the couch, his fingers were within the distance needed to play with the strands of your hair.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, “I guess it depends on the driver. I make the crashes pretty.”

The comedic gasp you let out as you clenched your chest had him laughing.

“Daniel Ricciardo, are you calling me ugly?”

“Don’t twist my words!” He exclaimed, eyes squinting as his smile widened. “I said I was pretty.”

You hummed, “You pretty much said I made the crush ugly.”

“I didn’t say you were ugly,” Daniel playfully tugged on a strand of your hair. “You’re not- I mean, you-”

And then the humour faded. He met your eyes, his hand fell to your shoulder. He was still smiling but it was the sort of gentle smile one wears when they figure out the answer to a question that had been eating at them for a while.

Something clicked for Daniel. At this very moment.

He wasn’t going to let it escape him.

“Pretty doesn’t do you justice,” Daniel told you, voice lowering. “You’re breaktaking, Y/N. On the racetrack, at home, at events, you put everyone around you to shame. And it’s not- it isn’t just your appearance, it’s you. Everything about you. Your heart, your charisma, the way your eyes light up when you smile but only if you’re talking to people you like,” he chuckled, having experienced it first hand and having seen the way you don’t look nearly as pleased when someone you dislike approaches you.

You were speechless, though. Frozen where you sat as this admission came out of seemingly nowhere.

And Daniel was attractive, that was an undeniable fact, he was everything anyone could ever want in a man. But you never allowed yourself to look at him the way other people would. He was your trainer, manager, mentor, friend.

You had no words to explain the way he was staring at you now. Nor could you explain why it made you feel more alive than driving a racecar at inhumane speeds ever could.

Daniel took another breath, eyes never leaving yours. “You are unlike anyone I have ever come across and I know, in my lifetime, I will never find someone who could ever compare to even a fraction of who you are.”

There was no way you could continue to be just friends after those words passed his lips.

You kissed him. You had to. It wasn’t like there was anything you could say that would match what he had already said, nor could you even find the words.

You kissed him and Daniel pulled you onto his laps, your legs moving to straddle either side of his hips. His hands roamed your body, sliding up the Prema shirt you still had on as your tongue roamed every possible inch of his mouth.

His hand gripped your waist, rolling you over top of him so you could feel in a matter of seconds how this conversation had now taken a turn. His cock started to harden, constricted by his pants, but you still felt it underneath you each time he shifted, each time you grinded against him.

When you reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it off, Daniel leaned back, both of you taking that second to catch your breath and question if you were really going to do this.

“Is this a mistake?” You whispered, your thumb gently tracing over his lips. Your working relationship was perfect. This could ruin everything. You had fears, doubts, worries. One night could lead to dozens of complications.

But Daniel shook his head and all of those thoughts vanished.

“No,” he said, sounding so sure of himself with that one syllable. “I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life but you are not one of them.”

That was the only validation you needed. You kissed him again, more lust, more passion, than before as Daniel stood up, carrying you towards the bed at the back of the room. He dropped you down on the edge of it, smiling at the squeal that escaped your lips.

Daniel wanted to worship you every way he could. He was gentle with you, with your body, as he dipped his head between your thighs, making you feel a wave of euphoria that no one had ever brought you too before.

It wasn’t until you were begging for more did Daniel realise he didn’t need to be gentle the entire night. He slid two fingers past your folds, lifting his head and hovering his body over yours, wanting to feel your desperate breaths hit his face as he rapidly thrusted his digits in and out of you, your walls clenching around him.

When he attached his lips to that spot on your neck, his teeth pressing against your skin, you saw stars. Daniel’s motions didn’t let up as you came around his fingers, loving the way your legs shook and how you dragged your hand through the hair on the back of his head.

He was cautious about doing anything else, knowing you were injured, he didn’t want to overstimulate you or cause any more pain.

But you needed him. You reached for the zipper of his pants and tugged it down, telling Daniel you wanted this, as if the way you looked up at him didn’t already make that perfectly clear.

He was careful when he entered you, patient. The tip of his cock slid past your folds slowly and he kissed your collarbone so gently you almost didn’t feel it as you adjusted to his size, quiet moans emitting from the back of your throat.

He had praised you before, but only ever at the race track, so there was something so familiar yet so foreign about the way he whispered against your skin. It lit a fire within you.

“You take me so well, sweets,” he fought back a groan as your walls tightened around him when you clenched your legs. “So good for me.”

It was safe to say the dynamic between you two changed after that night.

Daniel adored you already, admired you greatly for your achievements and growth in the sport. But now he fought with himself every weekend, knowing that he couldn’t touch you how he wanted. He couldn’t show you the attention he so desperately wanted. He couldn’t kiss you when you got that podium in Belgium, despite finding a way to sneak out of the pre-race duties for a second to run to the barrier to be there for you with the rest of the Prema team.

Whatever was going on between you, it was unlabelled and it was private. The rest of the world didn’t need to know you were sleeping with the man you looked up to, the one who helped you become a great athlete in such a short period of time.

People continued to speculate. You were private, sure, but you weren’t overly careful.

You were seen landing in Monaco over the summer. You were spotted hanging out with Daniel on plenty of occasions. Even though you kept your hands off of each other and refused to act like anything more than friends out in public, you were different when you returned after the break. You both were. Everyone noticed.

Daniel was, if it was even possible, happier. And you were less stressed it seemed. While you were still fighting a constant battle of being the only female in F2, it no longer seemed as heavy because the weight of it wasn’t just on your shoulders anymore. Daniel was there too.

It wasn’t just physical, what you had. The emotional connection you shared was undeniable. Daniel was always there for you, and you, him. During the bad days, the good ones, and everyday in between.

When you finished the season 5th in the drivers championship, the only person you wanted to celebrate with was Daniel. He was so proud of you. He watched you go from finishing 13th last year to 5th. He played a huge part in that, but when you tried to tell him that, he only brushed it off, saying that it was all you, he was just happy to be there for the ride.

It was his idea for you to test drive for McLaren at the end of the year, too. ‘We’ll get you in a real F1 car’ he said. And you didn’t question it when the offer was brought forward to participate in a few practice sessions. It was exhilarating and terrifying and you cried tears of joy when you stepped out of his car because this was what you dreamed of. Driving a Formula 1 car.

Now you just needed a permanent seat and Daniel wanted that for you too. He was your biggest supporter, and you only grew closer as the days went on.

You met his family over the holidays. He spent New Years Eve in London with you.

When the season started again, he spent more time with you and Prema. When there were no scheduled F2 races during F1 weekends, you accompanied him in the McLaren garage.

At this point, quite a few people knew you were together, or at least they assumed it.

You didn’t post about it, you didn’t want to, you didn’t need to. Daniel didn’t need to show you off, nor did you feel obligated to let everyone know you were with him. What you had was private, it was sacred, it was only for the two of you.

But of course whenever you had a good performance, whether it be from a practice session, qualifying or a race, he’d share your celebration picture to his Instagram story.

“Would you ever do a shoey?” Daniel asked you one Tuesday night, zooming in on a photo of you, more specifically on the smile on your face as you clenched your second place trophy from Imola on Sunday.

You rolled your eyes but the smile was impossible to hide as he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, tugging you into his chest.

“Next time you win,” Daniel suggested with a laugh. “I expect a shoey.”

“I’m not Australian.”

“You’re dating one, sweets.”

You never actually discussed what you were. The term boyfriend-girlfriend seemed so childish. Dating was, in a sense, accurate, but again, there were no labels. He had your heart, you had his. That was the only thing that mattered.

“The world doesn’t know that,” you pointed out.

“They kind of do,” Daniel kissed your cheek, giving your side a squeeze as he stepped aside to help you prepare dinner.

You weren’t even sure when you fell into such a domestic lifestyle but there you were, practically moved into Daniel’s place in Monaco at this point and he was at your side, chopping carrots for the salad while you prepared the chicken breasts.

“A shoey would confirm it,” you glanced up at him, but the smile on his face told you he wasn’t completely against the idea.

Daniel stepped behind you, fingers playfully pinching your waist, “Just think about it. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I just reckon it would be entertaining for everyone.”

He didn’t bring it up again, not even when you got third in Spain and didn’t do it. It was your first time getting a back to back podium since you started racing and of course it was something to celebrate, but the idea of a shoey made your stomach churn. You weren’t sure if you were ready for the world to know about your commitment to Daniel.

You walked a thin line, being with him. And while you enjoyed every possible minute spent with him, you knew the world was cruel. The second you officially went public, you’d lose respect in the motorsport industry.

The only female F2 driver dating an F1 driver? How scandalous.

Despite the rumours, the correct rumours, you were still in a bubble with him. You could pretend you were just friends, close friends. The tabloids had nothing to go off except your polite interactions and maybe a little too friendly smiles and so what if you were there in the McLaren garage cheering him on?

You were his biggest supporter and he was yours.

But it didn’t help that while your performance was improving, his was rapidly declining. While you had less races than his, already your stats were better. You qualified in the top 5 for the first three races. You finished second in Imola, third in Spain, already better than how you started the season last year.

Monaco was next. Daniel loved Monaco, you both did. Everyone did, it was the pinnacle of Formula 1.

It was unfortunate that your weekends ended up so drastically different.

Daniel qualified 14th and then finished 13th. He wasn’t proud of it, but he did his best to hide his disappointment for you, especially since you were starting on the front row, P2, for the feature race.

And somehow, you won.

After trailing behind Drugovich for the majority of the race, you were starting to believe you would finish behind him too. And you probably would have, had there not been a safety car almost six laps after he boxed for fresh tyres, giving you the advantage of newer tyres and less wasted time. It was a strategy your team was banking on, waiting for a safety car. It was risky, but it paid off. Overtaking was nearly impossible with Formula 1 cars, but you had a better chance in your series and somehow, by the grace of god, you did it. You pulled ahead and swiped the lead from Felipe.

You made history that weekend. The first female F2 driver to not only podium, but to win at Monaco. You gripped that first place trophy so tight your hand turned red.

Usually, F2 didn’t draw nearly as big of a crowd, but this weekend was different. Everyone was a fan of the series after that performance, a fan of you. You saw people in the crowd wearing Red Bull gear, Ferrari merch, McLaren hats, and they were all applauding you.

Of course, you were blown away by the support. Hearing your national anthem play was an incredible sound. There were tears in your eyes and your entire body was trembling, yet somehow you managed to find Daniel. Right in front, with your team.

He was so proud of you.

Despite his shitty qualifying, despite knowing he had such a low shot at earning points at his race that was in just under an hour, he was there for you. You couldn’t tell if he was cheering the loudest, or if you were just so prone to finding him in a crowd that you couldn’t process anything or anyone else.

You weren’t sure what came over you, but once you grabbed the champagne bottle, you found yourself taking your shoe off as well. As Felipe and Théo started spraying their bottles in celebration, you poured the bubbly liquid into the sole of your racing shoe and lifted it up to your lips, pointing directly at Daniel who couldn’t believe what he was watching.

It was rancid, as you figured it would. It was champagne out of a sweaty shoe, you knew it wouldn’t taste good, but it was a shoey and it was for Daniel. Felipe patted your back, laughing at your reaction and muttering something about how Daniel would get a kick out of that.

He was right, but Daniel wasn’t the only one who found it entertaining.

Your name was once again trending following the Monaco Grand Prix. Not Checo’s, even though he won the F1 race. Your name.

Not that you really cared that night. How could you care about what the internet was saying when the man you were with told you that he loved you for the first time? Nothing online mattered, not when Daniel took your face in his hands and told you he was madly in love with you. He was proud, he was happy, he was in love.

And you knew you loved him too. You had known this for a while. Monaco was just the perfect time to say it.

After going about as public as you could without physically coming out and saying you were dating the Australian driver, Monaco was the perfect place to tell him you loved him. You were on cloud 9, you were making history, you were in love.

You continued to deny, or at least ignore, the rumours that followed, still. You both did. You were in love with each other, not the whole world. Things would get complicated if you announced you were dating. You were vying for a Formula 1 seat and you wanted it without Daniels’ influence.

But at the following race in Baku you were asked similar questions.

“Your shoey last week, did that have anything to do with Daniel Ricciardo being there to cheer you on? You two have gotten pretty close in the last few months, he’s one of your mentors, isn’t he?”

You shifted your weight to one leg, wondering what the fuck kind of post-qualifying question that was. You had just completed three back to back podiums, you were on a hot streak now, starting third at this next race and the reporter only cared about what happened at the podium celebration last weekend.

“Sorry, did you have a question about this week's race?” You asked, and when he stammered over his words, you just nodded and walked away, a tight smile on your face.

Daniel’s conversation went a bit differently.

“Y/N’s shoey last week, we all saw it. Was that your influence?”

“Yeah I never thought she’d actually do it, it was sweet,” Daniel laughed. “It was great though, I happily pass the tradition onto her.”

“She’s really come along in Formula 2 since she started back in 2020, do you think she has what it takes to be Formula 1’s first full-time female driver?”

“Absolutely,” there wasn’t a shred of doubt or hesitation. He was happy to talk about you, to explain to the rest of the world why you were up and coming and should be taken seriously as a real contender for a Formula 1 seat. He probably would have continued on if his PR rep hadn’t pulled him away, reminding him of other duties.

The next few races were similar to your first ones. A couple more podiums, some outstanding qualifying sessions, more history being made. Your phone was blowing up weekly, everybody wanted to talk to you now and you knew Daniel had something to do with it. Him constantly sharing the faith he had in you did wonders for your reputation.

You might have been on top of the world, but you were well aware you were alone up there.

Daniels’ performances were anything but newsworthy. He had gotten a few points in Austria and France, but nothing to be extremely proud of, especially when he compared his 9th place finish at the Red Bull Ring to your first place podium, making it your second one this season.

He never let his disappointment for himself and McLaren stand in the way of your achievements. In fact, you didn’t often speak about the races when you were together. You were aware Daniel was having issues with the team, with Zak, with the car, but he didn’t want to weigh you down with his own problems, even though you assured him time and time again you could handle it.

Really, if Daniel had come to you with his struggles, you would have thought twice when Zak Brown approached you prior to the Hungarian Grand Prix. You probably would have slammed the door to your drivers room in his face if you knew how Daniel was being treated at McLaren.

But Daniel held his cards close to his chest while Zak laid his all out on the table.

“If a spot opened up for you,” he said, after spending the last ten minutes talking about the rich history of the team and praising your accolades. “Would you consider it?”

It wasn’t an official contract, just the start of a conversation that could lead to one.

Of course you thought of Daniel. And Lando, having grown close with him simply through Daniel.

“For 2024?” You asked, knowing both of them were set to continue driving through to at least the end of 2023.

“No,” Zak shook his head. You didn’t like how harsh his tone had turned, having no remorse for what he was about to say. “Daniel’s contract would be ending early.”

You leaned back in your chair, fingers tapping the table as you tried to recall Daniel ever telling you that he was leaving McLaren. “Is he- he wants out?”

“It’s mutual,” Zak assured you. “He knows we can’t give him the car he wants and unfortunately, he’s not delivering what we need. We had high hopes with Daniel, but the working relationship isn’t what any of us thought it would be.”

It’s mutual. Those two words was all it took to convince you that Zak Brown and Daniel had already had a conversation about this, about terminating the contract a year early.

It didn’t help that Zak brought up your test sessions in the McLaren from last year, pointing out that you had better times than Lando, even. He went on to praise what you were doing this year at Prema and said, multiple times, that you would be an asset to McLaren should you choose to go that route.

And who were you to turn that down?

A team principal of a Formula 1 team wanted to sign you. Was it unfortunate that it was Daniel’s seat? Yes, obviously this situation was less than ideal, but he wanted out. You were convinced he wanted out, that he was done with McLaren. A 45 minute conversation with Zak Brown convinced you of that.

You should have been wary when at the end of the conversation he said, “Don’t tell anyone about this, yet. You know how the public can be, let’s just keep this to ourselves for the meantime.”

“But I can talk to Dan, right?” You asked.

Zak knew you were dating Daniel, it was a little harder to hide that from his team than it was the rest of the world. Maybe that’s why hesitated before answering, knowing that keeping a secret, something as big as this, from a partner had the potential to cause chaos.

But he shook his head, “Between us, yeah?”

And you listened to him. You wanted that Formula 1 seat so of course you followed orders.

You desperately wanted to talk to Daniel about it, but you knew you couldn’t. And either he sensed that something was off, or he was dealing with his own problems again and wouldn’t share, you really couldn’t tell when the summer break started and things just seemed…different.

You didn’t go to Monaco for starters, even though Daniel invited you to. But there were so many meetings with Zak and the board at McLaren that it made more sense for you to stay in London for the start of the break.

Daniel didn’t call as often and you wanted to give him space, knowing that this break was probably needed for him. You expected he was out with friends, letting loose, getting the weight of a horrible season off his back even if just temporarily.

The plan was to go to Monaco for the last week and a half and then travel to Belgium together. You had to delay that plan, however, when Zak called you and said it was official.

The 2023 seat was yours.

You wanted to celebrate, with Daniel, but how could you celebrate with the person you were replacing?

It was strange that Daniel had said nothing to you about leaving the team during the summer break, especially since Zak had said time and time again they were on the same page, that Daniel was ready to leave. The only thing that crossed your mind was he was given strict instructions to not say anything to anyone either, at least until McLaren went public with the news.

But with it being official, with you having just signed on the dotted line, you were tired of keeping it to yourself. You may not have been able to share the news with anyone else, but you had a right to have a conversation with Daniel about it.

You didn’t know how he would react. Surely he’d be happy for you, right? You were getting a seat in Formula 1, something that both of you desperately wanted to happen. And again, you were under the impression the departure from McLaren was mutual. He would be happy that someone he loved was taking his seat, right?

Right?

You had to tell yourself that the entire ride over to his place. You unlocked the front door to his building and took the elevator up to the fourth level. You didn’t think to knock, knowing he never locked it when he was home so you pushed open the door and stepped in, your suitcase trailing behind you.

You were happy to see him. He was always a breath of fresh air, despite the odd distance between you, you still loved him. You always would. He muted whatever was playing on the screen and stood up from the couch when he heard you walk in.

Usually, Daniel would greet you with a kiss.

Usually, he’d be smiling so hard his jaw would be hurting.

Usually, he was happy to see you.

You left the suitcase by the door and met him halfway, only he stopped walking when there was about a foot of space between your bodies. To you, it felt like you were still miles apart.

“Do you have something you want to tell me?” He asked, arms crossed over his chest.

Your heart sank.

You had convinced yourself, Zak had convinced you, the whole back of house team had convinced you, that Daniel was aware of this upcoming change. That the termination was mutual. You taking his seat might have been a surprise, but it was never supposed to be a blindside.

“What do you know?” you asked.

“What do you know?” Daniel repeated the question back to you.

You were both fully aware of the exact same information. Daniel was leaving. You were taking his seat. Only, you had been informed this much earlier than he had.

“What was I supposed to do?”

“Not take the seat,” he scoffed. “My god, I mean, they’re cutting my contract early, Y/N. For you.”

“For the sake of the team,” you said and then added, “You don’t even like McLaren. You’ve struggled with this team since day one.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to stop racing.”

“McLaren is not the team for you and you know this.”

Daniel scoffed, eyebrows twitching, “Did Zak tell you to say that?”

“Zak-” you started, finding it difficult to hold his stare. This wasn’t the Daniel you knew. “-he doesn’t know I’m here. I’m not supposed to be here. I’m not supposed to talk to you or anyone about it, not until your announcement comes out.”

He rubbed his hands over his face, taking a few steps away from you. It hurt, watching as he tried to physically distance himself from you. Like being in too close of proximity would set him off.

“I struggled with the team, yes, but I’m not ready to give up racing. You have now left me without a seat.”

It was easy for Daniel to blame you, you were standing right in front of him. You were quite literally the driver set to replace him.

But the real villain was Zak, for not having opened up this line of communication earlier. For making you believe everyone was on the same page. It was Zak’s fault for rushing to end the contract with Daniel instead of putting in the effort to work with him. He saw the shiny new toy that was you, that Daniel helped create, and he wasn’t going to let someone else take it first.

Daniel wanted to blame himself too, but he wouldn’t let himself think about that until much later. He was the one who did everything he could to help you grow in this sport. He was the one who introduced you to Zak and the rest of the McLaren team. He was the one who got you in the car for the practice sessions, his car. Foreshadowing at its finest.

“You are unbelievable,” Daniel spoke quietly, heated with anger but his words were like ice as they sunk deep into you. “After everything I’ve done to help you for you to betray me like this, I just- I don’t think-”

You knew where this was going and you wanted to put a pin in it before he could finish any of his thoughts.

“Don’t finish that sentence, Daniel,” you whispered. “Please. Please, we can figure something out.”

“There’s nothing to figure out,” his mind was made up. “You took my seat.”

“Wouldn’t you rather it me than someone you don’t know? Someone you don’t trust?” You tried to turn this around, have him look at the positives, if there were any. “Daniel, everyone on the grid loves you, you’ll find a new team. One that helps you grow and get to where you want. McLaren isn’t that, we both know it.”

“I think you should go,” was his only response.

“If I hadn’t signed that contact, someone else would have,” you pointed out, grasping at straws here, painfully honest straws, but straws nonetheless. “Piastri, O’Ward…McLaren had options, Dan. Aren’t you at least happy for me that I out-qualified all of those guys?”

Daniel actually laughed, “You want me to be happy for you? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Dan-”

“Leave.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“You need to,” he was stern. He was angry. He was done. With you, with the team, with everything he used to love and cherish. He was done.

You thought you knew Daniel. You thought you knew how this conversation would play out. You figured it would still be rocky, but god you now realised how naive you were to believe you could still make things work.

“I love you,” you told him, because what else could you say except remind him that you were so hopelessly in love with him, that he was all you would ever want in life.

Except, that wasn’t exactly true, was it?

You wanted a seat in Formula 1 too. You just never thought you’d have to sacrifice one dream for the other.

Daniel’s stare was cold. He only looked away for a second to nod his head towards the door behind you, “If you loved me, you wouldn’t have done this.”

You stepped forward, desperate at this point because how could he do this? How could he throw away what you had, over a seat?

Or was it you, who had ultimately thrown away what you had when you sat down with Zak Brown all those weeks ago?

It pained you to think about the strong possibility of that being the case.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, because you were. You were sorry about how this turned out, how he was betrayed, how this was coming to an end. You grabbed hold of your suitcase and nodded, backing up towards the door, “I really am sorry, Dan.”

He didn’t believe you. Why would he? In his eyes, Formula 1 was more important to you than he was. A career decision that benefited you, but ruined him, mattered more than your relationship. It was a bold move, a cold move, one that you didn’t think would lead to this.

Neither of you could have predicted this. On September 3rd, 2020, when Daniel first said he wanted to work with you, neither of you thought it would end like this.

Just as you grabbed the handle of the door, Daniel opened his mouth, wanting to get the final word in. And you really wished he hadn’t because those final words destroyed you.

“I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life, but I never thought you would turn out to be one of them.”

You said nothing. You walked out of that Monaco flat with your head low and your heart even lower. You couldn’t even be excited about the next season, or the remainder of this one where you had the potential to finish in the top three.

You weren't happy, you were empty, you were defeated. And painfully so, you were also still in love.

Despite what was said, you knew it would take a while to get over Daniel. He was your rock for so long, he was always there for you and even though he could disappear without so much as a second thought, your feelings couldn’t, the memories couldn’t. It would take a long time until you felt whole again.

You didn’t know it yet, but the decision to take that McLaren seat would haunt you as you moved forward in your career.

This was not going to be the last time you ever saw Daniel.

part 2 haunted

#daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo one shot #danny ric #dr3 #f1 one shot #f1 fics #formula 1 x you #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo au

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transmutationisms · 2 years ago

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how do i know what’s right?

i feel like i have zero critical thinking skills ;-;

a lot of the time when someone poses an idea or a theory they think they’re right, and so they use language that enforces that. but then someone refutes it, and uses language affirming what they believe and i see the point in their argument. and then it gets refuted again and again and again and im just confused.

hi great question. i would love it if there were a single easy litmus test to figure out who's 'right' and whose info i should trust! unfortunately things are rarely this easy, and it's actually completely normal to be overwhelmed by the amount of information being produced and shared, especially when it comes to topics you haven't researched/lived/etc. for most of us, this will be most topics!

i'd preface this by saying that i think your overall attitude here is actually a good one. you're framing it in a pretty self-deprecating way—but actually, imo this type of openness to discussion and disagreement is a really good place to start, esp when dealing with topics that are new to you. nobody enters a contentious debate with a fully fledged, defensible viewpoint. you might feel like you're just treading water here, making no progress toward being able to evaluate arguments for yourself, but i highly doubt that's true.

all of that said: while i again cannot give you a single litmus test for figuring out what's 'right', there are four pretty basic sets of questions that i automatically run through when encountering a new idea, source, topic, or argument: we can call these origin, purpose, value, and limitations.

origin: who's the author? do they have any institutional affiliations? who pays their salary? is this argument or paper funded in any way? is the argument dependent upon the author's social position or status (race, class, etc) and if so, are those factors being discussed clearly? does the author have ties to a particular nation-state or stakes in defending such a nation-state? what's the class character of the author and the argument? what's the social, economic, and intellectual context that gave rise to this argument or source?

purpose: why is this source or person disseminating this information or making this argument? are they trying to sell you anything? are their funders? are they trying to persuade you of a particular political viewpoint? keeping in mind the answers to the 'origin' questions, are there particular ideological positions you would expect to find in this source or argument, and are they present? what are the stakes for the author or source? what about for those who cite the source or further disseminate or publish it?

value: what does this source or argument accomplish well? what aspects of the argument are new to you and strike you as insightful? are there linkages being made that you haven't encountered elsewhere, and that you think are effectively and sufficiently defended? are there statistics or empirical data that might be useful to you in forming your own argument, even if you disagree with how this source or author is interpreting them? what does this argument or source tell you about the types of debates being had, and the rules of those debates?

limitations: where does this argument or source fail you or fall apart? are there obvious rhetorical fallacies you can identify? is the author forgetting or overlooking some piece of information that you know of from elsewhere? which viewpoints may be omitted? keeping in mind the answers to the 'purpose' questions, if this source is defending a particular ideology or political position, is that one you agree with? is it only defensible so long as the author omits or distorts certain pieces of information? are there points where the argument jumps from evidence to a conclusion that the evidence can't fully support? are there alternative explanations for the evidence?

over time you will often find that it becomes more and more automatic to ask yourself these questions. you will also find that the more you read/hear about a particular topic, the faster you can determine whether someone is presenting all of the evidence, presenting it fairly, and using it to fully defend the argument they ultimately want to make. and you will probably also find that at some point, you're able to synthesise your own argument by pulling the strong parts from multiple other people's viewpoints, combining them with your own thinking, and fitting them together in a way that adequately explains and materially analyses the issue at hand.

#sry if this feels kind of abstract lol fight between specificity and applicability #lit and literacy

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kasayugi · 1 month ago

Text

Kekal (adjective), meaning eternal in Indonesian.

Summary: In his fairly long life, Anaxa has never felt what the word eternal means - whether from romance or not. His relationship with the titan of rationality who represents rationality in him has no connection at all in the seeds of eternity and love. But what about that beautiful woman? Does he still feel eternity in the seeds of his love that are stored tightly in the depths of his heart?

Warning!: mentions violence, blood, trauma, slight harsh words.

Attention!: English is not my first language and I use translation here, please forgive me if there are any mistakes. Feel free to tell me in the comments^^

next chapter

In the endless darkness of the night in the Grove, where scholars spend their time studying and spreading their knowledge about Titans- especially rationality. A place that never stops with the sound of debate from scholars to prove their knowledge and theories under the embrace of this night.

There stood a scholar- a blasphemer of god or titan, a fool who always questions something. That's what they call him, Professor Anaxagoras, who holds his name with pride and even makes his own rules for others how they will say his name. Sounds ridiculous to some people, right?

Every word uttered by his mouth is nothing other than knowledge accompanied by blasphemy against the divine beings. What is destiny? Anaxa does not believe in the concept of destiny or prophecy in his life.

Destiny and prophecy, the result of one's own actions that produce the prophecy or destiny that they step on, not any intervention from the divine party.

"I forgot you existed here" oh, his arrogant and cynical voice towards the Titan of Rationality, Cerces who steps on the same place as him. Not at all minding her tone of voice that was veiled with dislike.

"Does my presence really burden your heart right now?" Cerces, said in their calm and gentle tone. even though their eyes were closed, but in their tone there was a sense of amusement.

Can't you in your life not be that sassy, say that, Anaxa?

"I believe if you were smart, then you wouldn't ask that rhetorical question" he snorted, what kind of question was that? Titan, that stupid? Or they just wanted to tease him under this moonlight.

It was different with Cerces who just sighed, "as usual" their gaze turned towards the moon that radiated eternal light in the darkness of the eternal night in this Grove.

"It's not like you usually grieve this late" the silence of the night was broken by Cerces, they felt it from Anaxa's gaze who looked at the moon tightly. Like hugging the moon tightly, even though there was no light of life in her beautiful eyes.

"Grieving is a strong word, I prefer to reminiscing"

How funny.

"You try to deny it as much as you want, but the eyes don't lie, Anaxa" even the rationality snorted, a ridiculous alibi if someone - even a divine being can penetrate your soul through the eyes. The eyes are the windows to a person's soul itself - how their gaze can't lie even though the heart says otherwise.

"Rule number one, do not call me Anaxa"

"Your answer is nonsense"

How much longer are you going to deny it in the depths of your heart? Even your own eyes are fed up when your heart continues to deny and lock those feelings tightly.

If only there was someone who dared to voice that out loud to this stubborn scholar, anyone to make him open his eyes wide by himself through any method to destroy his prestige.

"You pushed yourself too hard to tag along here" trailblazer, caelus held his fragile partner's body tightly. The partner he admired and respected had now fallen fragile since they set foot in this place, amphoreus.

Followed by Dan Heng who helped him also support the weight of her body that even looked tired and heavy to do activities. Since the information from the black tide that attacked part of the amphoreus area. Who knows what made her fall so fragile.

"You have to rest, (name)" A worried tone filled the words that Dan Heng threw out, his hand gently squeezed her hand. The beautiful gray gaze radiated worry.

But she refused, she shook her head firmly and still wanted to stand alone. Even though her body screamed to stay still and return to the room in her resting place.

"I'm just tired. The black tide has nothing to do with me" She dismissed all the thoughts that hit her, the black tide ... did the disaster have anything to do with her?

"It's impossible" Dan Heng disagrees.

"But your condition is severe, look at your blood" Caelus pointed to her clothes, now seeping with her blood that came out freely staining her beautiful clothes.

She didn't even realize that her blood would never stop flowing staining her clothes this badly, this was abnormal. What caused it? She asked herself.

"You're bleeding, but there are no wounds at all" Dan Heng's sharp gray eyes stared closely, examining her bleeding that looked abnormal. Bleeding, no wounds at all. "She hasn't been injured at all since earlier" Caelus added, that the journey he and her had taken together had no wounds at all on her.

"Maybe we need help from my partner" Hyacine, the girl with the strawberry pink mane said in a worried tone. Although she tried to stay calm and not panic.

Even her's healing skills that she had learned in the Grove of Epiphany had no effect at all. It was strange, for Hyacine who had been able to heal other scholars who were badly injured by the black tide attack from the Grove.

That made Hyacine worried..

"Your partner? Which one? Are you sure?" Despite Hyacine's kindness, no- it wasn't that Caelus doubted the cute girl. It was just that his worry that slowly embraced his emotions quickly made him a little skeptical.

"We don't have time now. I trust Hyacine's decision, this is an emergency"

"Dan Heng-"

"I can guarantee my partner can help (name)...my healing has no effect on her at all" Hyacine tried to calm Caelus down. Even though she herself was quite confused and panicked.

caelus was confused, should he trust her? Who is the stranger that Hyacine refers to as her partner? What if Hyacine's partner's healing also had no effect? He didn't want his partner to get more seriously injured from this abnormal bleeding.

He was lost in his thoughts until a pat on his shoulder broke his reverie and all his negative thoughts. It was Dan Heng who looked at him sternly but tried to calm him down too. "There is no time for negative thoughts, we better follow Hyacine's words"

With Dan Heng's final words leaving no room for argument with him, Caelus took a deep breath and nodded his head. "Fine.."

At least he would keep his negative thoughts to himself, and so would Dan Heng. He was sure.

For now it would be better for them to focus on what Hyacine suggested, and follow her orders as she led the way to meet her partner.

For now they could only pray that the results would be positive.

At least..

"Dude, you two are useless"

The welcome given by Hyacine's partner was quite friendly, they thought. It went well at first when he started to carefully examine (name), their astral express partner even though there was a slight expression of horror when her clothes were completely covered in blood.

For that, but for now, the rancid brat who was Hyacine's partner actually cursed them openly without looking at the condition.

"Pardon?"

Lilia, or as they know him as Hyacine's medical partner, shook his head in displeasure, "Seriously? An outsider this ass stupid? Don't you know that I am the best healer in all of Amphoreus? Why didn't you bring your damn partner immediately when her condition was abnormal?"

Oh, what a sharp tongue you have, kid. Please watch your words.

"How do we know?" Caelus raised his eyebrows in disapproval mixed with annoyance. On what basis did this jerk scold them? Okay? Caelus admitted that he and the other partners who tagged along on Amphoreus didn't know the entire contents of this planet.

But cursing someone so bluntly was like having no ethics at all, what if they were a child. Where were their parents?

"Of course from the people, you are too lazy to ask and stupid to think about it. This is why Titan forbids outsiders from entering Amphoreus so that they will not be contaminated by their idiocy"

Remind Caelus not to take out his baseball bat to hit this stinky brat who openly speaks with his dirty mouth.

"Do you even have a parent to teach you some manners?"

"I don't"

"Well that describes you"

Lilia's eyes narrowed in disapproval of Caelus' reply, this guy.... sigh, "as if you have parents"

As if struck by lightning in broad daylight, Caelus was left speechless. This kid! He really can't control his mouth at all!

"Guys! Please don't make a fuss!" Hyacine tried to break up the argument between Caelus and Lilia, which if she let it go would definitely continue endlessly and end with words that were inappropriate to hear.

In contrast to Dan Heng who is now fully focused on (name) and ignoring the gray-haired and the rancid boy who are giving off an aura of childish fighting.

He doesn't want to get involved in childish fighting, remember, he is an adult and not a silly child like them.

"I feel like I was hit by a car" (name) took a deep breath, feeling relieved with her bleeding that had stopped completely, he hoped. Thanking Lilia for helping her.

"Isn't that the opposite of you who sometimes hit someone at Penacony?" Caelus raised his eyebrows, seriously? Hearing what his friend said sounded strange if she was hit by a car- even though she was the perpetrator who often accidentally hit cars into other people on the planet full of sparkling festivals.

Remind Caelus to never let her take control of the car again-

"Oh? I hit someone?" And she said it clearly as if she was an amnesiac.

Now Caelus is thankful to anyone that there are no cars in this amphoreus.

"What is a car?" The conversation between Caelus and (name) sounded strange, especially the word "car" which he had never heard at all in Grove, nor Okhema.

"A car is a vehicle that has wheels, carries a small number of passengers, and is moved by an engine-"

"No one asked you to explain what a car is" Caelus quickly cut off her words with laziness, of course returned with a displeased look from her.

"I didn't explain that to you"

#anaxagoras #anaxa x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #anaxagoras x reader #dan heng #dan heng x reader #anaxa #anaxa honkai star rail

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ladymoody · 7 months ago

Text

THE MORNING AFTER

mattheo riddle x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw +18, dom!mattheo, mention of alcohol and weed, sex after breakup, explicit language, dirty talk, fingering, breast squeezing and nipple playing, spanking, v eating, p in v penetration, creampie.

word count: 2,3k

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ masterlist ; playlist ; characters list ; my website

I groaned as the stiff morning light cursed through the blinds, forcing me awake. I rubbed my eyes, probably smearing my makeup everywhere on my face. I didn’t have a mirror but I could feel the weight of my eye bags caused by the fact that I hadn’t slept so well.

I spent a few minutes in bed, trying to recall the events from the night before. what snapped me back to reality and made me remember was an arm loosely wrapped around my waist. I slowly made my way out of bed, taking the sheets off me and adjusting my clothes — I was wearing my panties and my cheetah-printed t-shirt from the day before.

I looked back at the guy on the bed as I brought my hand to cover my yawn. I didn’t know who the guy was but we had apparently spent the night together. I looked around the room just to recognize mattheo’s furniture and his unmistakable scent of weed and vodka.

mattheo had thrown a party in his house only inviting his close friends. he and I were close friends, sort of. actually, we had dated for 11 long months but it didn’t work out and we broke up. since none of us cheated or anything we decided to stay in touch and to remain friends. mattheo was a nice company after all.

I looked at the clock and noticed that it had stopped — my head hurt and my legs felt numb as I headed towards the exit. I had drunk a lot.

“morning.” a grumpy voice spoke. I entered the kitchen just to see two people peacefully sleeping on the couch and one of them was blaise but I didn’t know who the other girl was.

“mornin’.” I answered as I glanced over the direction where the voice came, and realized it was mattheo.

“slept well?” he asked sipping his coffee. he was leaning against the counter, his hair messy from the weird position he had probably slept in, barefoot and shirtless.

“sure thing.” I squinted my eyes as I felt another wave of headache hitting me.

I approached him and made a little jump to sit on the counter next to him. “are we the only ones up?”

“apparently.” he lazily responded taking another sip of his morning coffee before setting the cup down and turning his full attention to me.

“have you checked your phone?” he smirked.

his facial expression got me suspecting there was something up. I shook my head and reached for my phone which was previously left on the table in the center of the room. I unlocked it and turned off the airplane mode. oh my god.

+99 messages??

I couldn’t get what she meant so I immediately went to check theo’s story.

WHAT THE FUCK!

I was completely speechless in a mix of confusion, embarrassment, and panic. I immediately turned to look at mattheo who was now peacefully smoking a cigarette.

“mattheo…?” he heard me saying his name and his ears straightened up. he didn’t move, instead, he just breathed out the smoke and hummed to let me know he was listening.

“what’s on theodore’s story?” my voice had a slight hint of fear, my eyes almost cowed by the thought of his future answer.

“oh, you’ve seen it?” he smirked, playing dumb, now making our gazes meet.

I had no idea what game he was playing, but I didn’t like it.

“mattheo.” I warned him both because I wanted him to stop being so cocky, and because I was hoping for more information than a simple rhetorical question.

“y/n.” he copied my tone and turned his head to fully face me, now his grin had grown wider.

I stared at him for a few seconds trying to comprehend the thoughts behind his persuasive eyes, but nothing seemed to be there — except some sarcasm and his usual flirtatious expression.

I focused on my phone again and decided to text to enzo.

JUST smooching a bit? we had broken up!

“something wrong?” mattheo’s voice and hand suddenly resting on my bare thigh brought me back to reality which felt like a very harsh slap.

“did we…? you and I…?”

“you drank a bit. I drank too. guess we missed each other.” he winked at me before taking a drag from his cigarette. oh it couldn’t be… could it? I was so puzzled and I couldn’t even bring myself to form proper sentences.

“but did you-”

“no. I didn’t go further. theo posted a picture of us falling asleep on a bed so we probably were too tired.”

theo posted another picture???

“what did he post?”

“go check it. it’s on twitter.”

I still couldn’t believe the nonchalance he was talking with, but ostensibly he was fine with everything we had done.

oh. my. fucking. god.

“mattheo…” I sounded like I was whining.

he looked at me and took a few steps to stand right between my legs. I had forgotten how sexy he looked.

“what’s up, princess?” the cocky smirk never left his face as he kept his head up, staring at me.

I felt like all this time spent to forget our romantic memories was wasted in one night. I had worked hard trying to see him as a friend only, but the thought of me and him making out again and spending time with each other in an intimate way was freaking me out. I didn’t know what to say or do, mattheo was standing in front of me — his hands resting on both my thighs as he had previously finished his cigarette.

“we were good together, don’t you think?”

of course, I thought we had been good together. but it was over. I needed to remind myself that.

“we were a great couple, but we broke up. I think we should forget the past.”

“yeah, and think about tonight. or do you wanna forget about that too?”

“we were drunk… I- I don’t want to discuss it, mattheo.”

“we can avoid mentioning the topic, alright.”

“thanks.” I sighed.

he moved closer, holding me by my hips firmly before grabbing my waist and lifting me up. I automatically wrapped my legs around his waist and his hands moved to my butt to allow him to have a better grip on me.

before I could say something and object to what he was doing, he spoke — “you aren’t drunk anymore, are you?”

I wanted to get off him, I wanted him to let me go and put me down… but his scent, his touch, his eyes looking at mine, his appealing lips…

“I’m not.”

“so you’re thinking straight right now?”

“yes.”

“and what are you thinking about, mh?”

you fucking me. you bending me over the counter and making me yours once again. you eating me out like I was the best food in the world. you gripping my hair and pulling it. you squeezing my boobs and torturing my nipples.

“let me go, mattheo.”

“that’s not what you’re thinking about.”

I was about to say something back, but once again, he interrupted me. this time he didn’t use words — no — instead, he sat me down on the table in the center of the room, making me fall on a few bottles of alcohol that rolled down the table without breaking but making a loud bang. thank god nobody woke up.

I instinctively laid down, letting him do. he hovered over me, caressing my sides as he started planting heated kisses on my neck and collarbone.

there were no excuses this time, I wasn’t drunk.

“tell me you missed me…” he groaned against my skin, not stopping his work for a second.

I did miss him. mattheo was still the only man I could think of every time I touched myself.

“I missed you… matt… please…” I desperately whined into his ear.

“please what?” he stopped his kisses.

“please… fuck me.”

“that’s what I wanted to hear…” he immediately leaned down on me and slid my panties off, then he spread my legs wide. he grabbed my ankles and placed one of my legs on his shoulder.

mattheo was amazing at eating girls out. I loved every single second of it when we were together, and now I was feeling it again.

I arched my back, shutting my eyes and gripping his hair hard as his head expertly moved between my legs and he teasingly kissed my inner thigh, leaving a trail of kisses that gave me shivers.

“still as soft as I remember…” mattheo grunted between kisses. he finally arrived at my folds, and he stared down, admiring the sight he once had daily back when we were dating.

he slipped one finger inside me and made a wet sound. I was drenched without a doubt. he knew. he knew so well he was the reason why I was like that. and he loved it.

“mattheo!” I moaned but he quickly got up — his finger still fucking me but my leg fell off his shoulder — and shut me up with a passionate kiss. “be quiet, babygirl, can you do that for me?”

I soon remembered how we weren’t technically alone, since some people from last night were still here and were sleeping unbothered. I nodded vigorously — I was determined to do whatever he wanted me to do. it seemed like I had lost my common sense, my reasoning... mattheo was too much to resist.

he increased the pace of his finger, his lips on my neck again as if he couldn’t get enough of me.

his lips kissed my collarbone and chest — my shirt was all disheveled now as he was rubbing against me in a very eager way. his kisses ended on my stomach and lower belly, which had me arching my back once again. I wanted more. I wanted him lower.

it was like mattheo read my mind. he knew where I needed him at that moment more than whenever else. he got back in front of my pussy, now dripping and throbbing, and licked his lips in hunger. he dived his head between my thighs, kissing my clit assertively and cleaning me from my juices that had previously trickled down. it was the best sensation. I loved his tongue more than anything. he grabbed my ankles again, making me spread my legs more to give him better access. his tongue dug into my hole, thrusting in and out as quickly as he could, yet trying his best to get my taste.

“yes! oh yes!” I let out a strangled moan. it was so hard trying not to let the others hear and find out about this — not that they didn’t know… the night before we did do something, but what we were doing now was much more wrong.

I could feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge as he tortured my cunt. one of his hands left my ankle and slipped underneath my t-shirt, grabbing my breast roughly and squeezing it almost painfully for me.

“I’m close… I’m so close…”

“mhh… not like this.” the total ecstasy I was in vanished in the air as his mouth left me. I pouted and my hips flexed upwards, looking for his touch. in one quick and smooth move, he took my shirt off, now exposing my boobs to his eyes — then his hands rushed to his belt, his gaze not leaving my chest just yet, and he undid it. his pants fell on the ground and so did his boxers, freeing what I had missed for all those months.

I looked at him. I looked at it. I had never felt that desperate for something in my whole life.

he leaned in and lifted me from the table, placing me down on my feet and harshly turning me around. he spanked my asscheek, probably leaving a purple mark later, and forced me to lie down on the cold surface of the wooden table. my boobs pressed against it, while my legs were spread once again.

mattheo spanked me another time but harder, making me wince in an attempt to hold back my moans. I bit my lip and grabbed the other end of the table, holding onto it for dear life as mattheo slipped into my pussy from behind.

his hips pistoned against my ass, and his hands were all over my back, sometimes spanking here and there. I couldn’t think of a more pleasant thing than his thick dick that had always reached so many spots inside of me, making me go completely crazy. he was maddening.

“ahh!” he groaned against my ear. his chest pressed against my back and his thrusts became harder as he went deeper and deeper.

his hand gripped my breast again, fondling it and provokingly playing with my already-hard nipple with his fingers.

“mattheo!!!” he brought his hand over my mouth, denying me to make any further sound and forcing me to stand up. he left his hand on my face as he kept up with his hard thrusts — my head weightlessly fell on his shoulder as my back arched due to the immense and indescribable pleasure.

not so long after, mattheo groaned and panted as he reached his high — his eyes shut close and his mouth hung open. I felt his hot seed spilling inside of me, the sensation of his cum painting my insides and dripping down my folds and onto the floor made me come as well, coating his member with my juices.

“I love you, baby… I never stopped loving you…” he panted. his face showing a weary expression.

“oh… mattheo…” I whined. “I love you too.”

he smiled, his eyes still shut, and he let go of me. he pulled his underwear and pants back on, while I wore my oversized t-shirt again as well. I reached to grab my panties but mattheo grabbed them first.

“I’ll keep these.” he said as he sneaked them in his pocket, before pecking my lips.

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redroomreflections · 7 months ago

Text

All of the Good Things

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

A Family of Her Own Series

Masterlist | General Masterlist

w/c: 4.3k

Summary: After the fall of the Avengers, Natasha Romanoff returns home to her secret family—a life she's carefully hidden away for years. Struggling to balance her role as a mother and wife while avoiding the dangers of her past, Natasha is forced to make difficult decisions that impact her loved ones.

This Chapter: Natasha and R are on the run together.

The gentle sound of water lapping against the sides of the pool harmonized with the chirping of birds on the cool summer day. Summer in Versailles hadn't been on either of your bucket lists, but you can't imagine being anywhere else. Natasha stands in the shallow end of the pool, Stella in her arms, as they wade in the water. The pool was shaded perfectly by towering trees, their leaves creating a dappled pattern of sunlight on the surface of the water, glimmering like diamonds.

The air was filled with the scent of blooming lavender from the nearby garden, adding a sweet aroma that mingled with the fresh, crisp scent of the water. Natasha’s laughter mingled with the gentle breeze as she gently rocked Stella, teaching her how to float.

"You have to hold your head above the water," Natasha informed the two-year-old as she attempted to let her go. Stella shook her head, ignoring Natasha's words, as she wanted to pretend to be a shark. "Stella," Natasha asked again as she placed the toddler on the poolside.

"Shh, I'm listening to the waves," Stella held up a tiny hand. Natasha shook her head in amusement and stood in front of her in case she decided to jump in like earlier.

"Are there waves in a pool?" Natasha questioned. Stella's face scrunched up as she listened intently to the gentle splashes against the pool wall, deciding how to answer.

"Yes," Stella replied after a few moments. "And they're making music," she added.

“Oh, they are? What kind of music are they playing?" Natasha played along.

"Water music," Stella stated matter-of-factly.

"You love swimming this much?" Natasha questioned. It appeared almost rhetorical.

"She was born in a pool. What did you expect?" You said as you came out of the house with Nicky in your arms. He looked adorable in his cute red swim shorts and sun hat. Unlike his sister, he wasn't appreciative of the infinity pool that came with the rental, his little brow furrowed as he gazed at the water with skepticism.

Natasha found herself too distracted to add to the conversation, her gaze wandering appreciatively over you in your bikini. The way the sunlight danced on your skin made her heart race just a little faster, and she couldn’t help but smile at the thought of how you balanced playfulness and warmth as effortlessly as you balanced Nicky in your arms.

“You look like a total snack, by the way,” Natasha teased, her voice laced with affection as she tried to divert her attention back to Stella, who was now pretending to swim like a dolphin.

“Thank you, but I think Nicky’s the star of the show today,” You replied, shooting a playful smile back at Natasha as you approached the edge of the pool.

Natasha’s attention snapped back to Stella, and she chuckled at Stella’s enthusiastic splashes, soaking the nearby tiles. “Okay, Miss Shark, let’s get you back in the water,” Natasha said, returning her focus to the lessons. “But this time, we’ll try floating, deal?”

Stella nodded eagerly, her excitement palpable as she prepared to dive back into the pool. She loved playing in the water, and Natasha could see how much fun she was having, though it was quite a different story with Nicky.

Nicky stared at the pool, his little eyes narrowed suspiciously, and the expression on his face was absolutely priceless.

You held onto the railing of the pool with one hand and Nicky with the other as you descended the steps. Initially it was cold and the infant whimpered in surprise. Once he became accustomed to the temperature, however, he seemed content to splash the water and observe the ripples.

Natasha moved closer as she observed the two of you, and a sudden realization came over her. This was her family. There was a sense of belonging, something she had been searching for her entire life, and it all started with you.

When Natasha first met you, she never imagined this could be her life, a life of love and acceptance, a life where she was truly at peace. Natasha watched you in the pool with Nicky, the way you gently held him, guiding him through the water with patience and care. The sight tugged at her heartstrings, stirring something deep inside her she hadn’t known she needed for so long. She had fought in battles and faced impossible odds, but here, in this quiet corner of Versailles, surrounded by her little family, was where she felt her strongest.

Her thoughts drifted back to the day she first met you. Never in her wildest dreams could she have predicted this—a home, a family, a love so profound it healed old wounds she thought would never close. She had been a soldier, an Avenger, but with you, she was just Natasha. The walls she built so high had crumbled over time, brick by brick, until you had her heart completely. She doesn't know how she could ever show you how much she loves you. Stella’s joyful shriek snapped Natasha out of her reverie as the toddler splashed water at her, giggling uncontrollably. Natasha blinked, grinning at her daughter's antics. "Alright, alright. You win this round."

Stella giggled again and attempted to float, proudly puffing out her chest as she lay back, mimicking what Natasha had shown her earlier. Her little limbs flailed more than necessary, but she was trying, and that effort was all Natasha needed to see.

You made your way closer to them, Nicky now calmer in your arms, his tiny hands occasionally splashing as if testing the waters. The way he leaned into you for comfort made Natasha’s heart swell even more. She wrapped an arm around your waist as you joined her near the shallow end, her fingers trailing up and down your side.

"Did I tell you that you look sexy in a bikini already?" She asked.

"Mmhm, but I don't mind hearing it again," You smiled. "You don't look so bad yourself, Romanoff," You grinned, running a finger along the edge of her black bikini. You gave her a gentle kiss one that caused Stella to wrinkle her nose as she clung to Natasha.

"Yuck!" She cried, prompting the two of you to laugh.

"Sorry, kid. You're stuck with us," Natasha said, leaning forward and blowing a raspberry on her cheek, eliciting a squeal of delight from the toddler. The past few months had been nothing short of a dream. Every morning in Versailles had felt like a small slice of peace, a stolen moment between the chaos that followed like a shadow. The quiet days had given Natasha and you something you both craved—time. Time to simply be. No missions, no war rooms, no urgent calls for help. Just the two of you, your children, and a sense of stillness that neither of you had ever really known.

Natasha couldn't remember the last time she'd been able to breathe this easily, to savor these fleeting moments. The way your laughter would carry through the house, or how Stella’s giggles echoed in the garden, and Nicky’s soft coos in your arms as you both watched the world go by. Natasha found herself rediscovering you all over again—the little things that had drawn her in from the start but felt even more profound now. The way you could make her smile with just a look. How effortlessly you seemed to hold everything together, even when life on the run could easily fray at the edges.

Every stolen kiss, every shared glance, every touch had rekindled something inside her. Falling in love with you had been the easiest thing Natasha had ever done, but staying in love—especially through all the chaos, the goodbyes, the constant fear of what might come next—was a different story. She could admit now that every time she'd left, there had been a twinge of resentment from you, and she couldn't blame you for it. You'd never said it outright, but she saw it in your eyes, heard it in your voice when she promised, once again, that this time it wouldn’t be for long. She knew what it cost you to be with her, to follow her across continents, to live a life where permanence felt like a distant dream.

But these past three months? They had been different. Natasha had stayed. And with every day, that lingering tension—the one that came from being pulled apart and back together so many times—had started to dissolve. Slowly but surely, you were both healing. You were rebuilding something that the chaos of her life had threatened to break.

Natasha had learned to savor the little things again. The mornings where the two of you would sneak out to the pool before the kids woke up, enjoying a cup of coffee while the world was still quiet. The evenings spent in each other's arms, no words necessary, just the comfort of being near you. The way you would look at her like you saw past the mask of the Black Widow and saw Natasha—the woman, the wife, the mother.

And Natasha, in turn, found herself falling in love with you all over again. It wasn’t a rush or a whirlwind this time, but something deeper, more settled. Like the roots of something strong and enduring, quietly taking hold. You had always been her safe harbor, but now, in these quiet days, you had become her home in a way she hadn't fully realized before.

Of course, she knew the peace wouldn’t last forever. You would have to move again soon. Another city, another name, another chance to stay off the radar. The danger was always lurking, an ever-present threat that lived at the edges of these moments. But Natasha had learned to live with it, to compartmentalize it. Right now, as she stood in the pool with you and the kids, none of that mattered. The world outside could wait. For now, this was enough.

**************

You stepped out of the pool, water dripping from your skin as you made your way to grab more towels. The warm sun kissed your damp shoulders, but a slight chill ran down your spine as you stepped into the house. You heard a faint buzzing coming from the counter, the place where you'd kept your access to the outside world. It’s an old phone, a number only a select few even have—mostly remnants of a lifelong buried.

The screen flashed with an unknown number, but you knew better. Instinct told you who it is before you even answered.

Your stomach tightened as you picked it up, glancing out of the window at Natasha still in the pool with the kids, her attention on Stella as she splashed excitedly. You raised the phone to your ear, keeping your voice low.

“Hello?”

“Been a hard person to reach,” The voice on the other end said, his tone smug and all too familiar. General Ross. His voice alone was enough to make your pulse spike. It drags you back to a time when every phone call from SHIELD was an emergency, a matter of life or death.

You take a slow breath, forcing yourself to stay calm. “I didn’t know I was taking calls,” You replied coolly, your eyes scanned the surroundings automatically, your mind already shifting into alert mode.

“Guess you’re not retired after all,” Ross continued, his voice sharp, cutting. “I’ve been looking for you and Romanoff. It’s been quite the chase.”

Your grip tightened on the phone, your knuckles turning white. "I don't understand why you think I'd know where she is. Your guess is as good as mine."

"Come on, Agent. We both know that's not true," Ross replied, his voice full of malice. "She's wanted for the crime of treason. What better person for her to be with than the woman she loves? Wife, right? I know people too."

Your blood runs cold at his words, and you're thankful you're alone. "What do you want, Ross?"

"I'll give you a week," he replies. "Tell your wife to come back with the Rogues or we'll be paying you a visit."

"Is this how you usually get your way? Intimidation?" You asked.

"No, just the most effective," Ross replied.

"Well, you're wasting your time," You leaned against the counter. "What is it with your obsession with Natasha anyway? I'm curious. Did she reject you? Hurt your cat? Cut you off in traffic?"

Ross chuckled darkly, the sound low and menacing. "This isn’t about personal feelings, Agent. Romanoff is a traitor, and traitors need to face justice. It’s as simple as that."

You grit your teeth, gripping the edge of the counter as you fought to keep your voice steady. "You and I both know it's more than that. You’ve been chasing her for some time now. You’re obsessed."

"Obsession," he drawled, "is such an ugly word. Let’s call it dedication. I have a job to do, and I won’t stop until I see it through."

The weight of his words settled heavily on you, an oppressive reminder of the constant threat that loomed over you and Natasha, no matter where you tried to run or how well you hid. The illusion of safety, the peace you’d found together over the last few months, felt like it was slipping away.

"You’ve been out of the game for a while," Ross continued, his tone almost mocking. "Maybe you’ve forgotten how this works. You can’t protect her forever. Eventually, she’ll slip, and when she does, I’ll be right there. But if you’re smart, you’ll bring her in before things get messy—for all of you."

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the fear that clawed at the edges of your mind, threatening to overwhelm you. "Is that a threat, General?"

"Oh no," he replied. "Just a promise."

The line went dead, leaving you alone with the silence and the sound of your own heartbeat echoing in your ears. You leaned heavily against the counter, fighting the urge to throw the phone across the room. The familiar pitter-patter of footsteps caused you to change your tune immediately. You wiped at your face and rushed over to the sink, grabbing a glass and beginning to fill it with water.

"Hey," Natasha said as she entered the kitchen with Nicky and Stella. She paused, tilting her head, noticing the shift in your demeanor. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," You replied, avoiding her gaze as you sipped from the glass of water. "Are we all done in the pool?"

"Yeah, we're done for today," Natasha answered, her eyes narrowing. "Something happened."

You sighed and placed the glass on the counter, unable to lie to her. "Later. Please?"

Natasha didn't argue, but you could feel her gaze boring into the back of your head, her concern palpable.

The rest of the afternoon passed without incident, but you were hyper-aware of every sound, every shadow, the tension in your shoulders refusing to abate. You couldn't relax, not when the threat of Ross and his army was hanging over you like a sword.

The evening sun was painting the sky in shades of pink and red when the four of you sat down to dinner, the kids happily munching away on their chicken nuggets while you babysat the same cup of wine. Natasha didn't press for information. She simply enjoyed her time with the kids. Its when she put them down for bed that she begun to ask questions. You stood at the bathroom counter, preparing for your nightly routine, when she stood beside you. She watched your reflection in the mirror.

"So, are you gonna tell me what's going on or do I have to guess?" She asked, her voice gentle, but the concern was evident.

"It was Ross," You admitted, not meeting her eyes. "He called me earlier. Somehow he got ahold of my old work phone. I know it's dumb of me to still have it but..."

Her body tensed at the name, her expression hardening. "What did he want?"

"To let us know that he knows we're together," You replied, finally meeting her gaze. "That he's coming after you, and me. That we have a week to either turn ourselves in or face the consequences."

"How the hell did he find you?" Natasha asked, her voice laced with anger.

"I'm not sure, but he seems serious," You argue. "Maybe you should call and check on Steve and Wanda. See where they are?"

"Wanda can handle herself, and she's with Vision. I'm not worried about her," Natasha assured, running a hand through her hair. "Ross is just bluffing."

"If you're sure," You nodded. "I'm not afraid of him. Not in the slightest. I just think maybe we should relocate."

"But you love it here," Natasha said.

"Not more than I love you," You countered. "And we can't stay, we've been here too long."

Natasha's shoulders sagged slightly, but she nodded in agreement.

"I'm sorry this is happening," She frowned.

"Don't keep apologizing," You shake your head. "It's not your fault. We'll be okay."

"Yeah, but I'm the reason you're on the run with me. This isn't the life I wanted for you."

"We have a family, Nat. We have two beautiful kids. If we have to run, I'll follow. Besides, it's not forever." You tapped at her hands, grasping them in your own. "The kids are fine. I'm fine."

"Maybe one day, I can get you to a beach. A real one," Natasha smirked.

"Sounds nice," You smiled. "But wherever we go, I'll be there. You know that, right?"

"I know."

Natasha kissed you softly, her hands cupping your face. You melt into the kiss, wrapping your arms around her waist and pulling her close. The tension in your shoulders eases the fear and worry that had gripped you since Ross's call beginning to dissipate.

"Someone's birthday is coming," Natasha said.

"Stella will be three," You smiled against her shoulder. "Nicky's birthday was beautiful. I don't know what we're going to do for her."

"I've got a few ideas," She grinned. "She wants to visit an aquarium."

"Is that wise? All things considered?"

"We're careful," Natasha smiled, kissing you once more.

"You are. Me, I'm an anxious mess," You joked, the anxiety slowly returning.

"You're the most level-headed person I know," She chuckled, her hands rubbing at your back.

"That's sweet of you to say, but it's not true," You argued. "Our baby is going to be three. Where has the time gone?"

"It's flown," Natasha smiled, "but I'm glad we're here. I can't imagine doing this with anyone else."

"Same," You hummed, holding her tighter. "You know, we're pretty good at this. Being parents. Well, from an outsider's perspective, we might look insane, dangerous, crazy. The list goes on."

"You're definitely insane, but so am I. It works," Natasha laughed. "It's always worked with you."

"Yeah, it has," You agreed. Your fingers toy with the hair at the nape of her neck.

"You never told me if you liked my hair or not," Natasha said. You grip her head gently, pulling back at her, inspecting the box-dye blonde.

"You look like a baddie, babe," You grinned.

"A baddie?"

"A badass," You corrected. "You told me I looked like a snack earlier. It's only right if I return the favor."

"You know," Natasha smirked, "if we had sex now, we'd be doing it like a married couple."

"Well," You shrugged. "We are a married couple."

Natasha smiled and leaned forward, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. The anxiety and fear of Ross and his threats fade into the background, replaced by the familiar feeling of desire, warmth, and love.

***************

A week later you were at the aquarium. The faint scent of saltwater and the rhythmic hum of the filtration tanks created a calming atmosphere, one that made it easy to forget—at least for a moment—the looming threat that had shadowed you for the past week.

Stella’s eyes were wide with wonder as she held Natasha’s hand, her tiny legs struggling to keep pace with the excitement rushing through her. She had been talking about sharks non-stop since you’d left the house, her fascination sparked again by some ocean documentary she had watched with Natasha weeks ago.

“Do you think we’ll see a real shark today, Mama?” Stella asked, her voice filled with awe as she looked up at Natasha, her little hand gripping tightly onto hers.

Natasha, disguised with a black wig that fell just past her shoulders and brown contact lenses that made her nearly unrecognizable, smiled down at her daughter. “I think we will, Solnyshko. You might even see a whole family of sharks.”

Stella’s eyes lit up at the possibility, and she beamed. “I wanna see the baby ones!”

Behind them, you pushed Nicky’s stroller, watching the two of them interact. It was moments like this that made everything feel normal. It was easy to pretend that your little family was just like any other. The tension from a week ago seemed far away, and today was about Stella—her third birthday, a day of joy and exploration.

“She’s been talking about sharks all morning,” You said with a smile, catching up to Natasha and Stella as you steered the stroller next to them.

Natasha glanced back at you, her eyes crinkling with affection, even though she kept her gaze on Stella to avoid drawing too much attention to herself. “I’m pretty sure she’s going to try to take one home with her,” she teased.

Stella, overhearing, immediately latched onto the idea. “Can we, Mama? Can we take a baby shark home?”

You and Natasha both laughed, and you shook your head playfully. “I don’t think the sharks would be very happy living in our pool, sweetie.”

Stella pouted for a second but then seemed to forget all about it as soon as you reached the first large tank, her eyes widening with amazement at the sight of colorful fish swimming just inches away on the other side of the glass. She pressed her hands to the cool surface, her breath fogging up the glass as she stared in awe.

Nicky, sitting in the stroller, squirmed and giggled, his tiny hand reaching out toward the bright lights of the tank. You leaned down and whispered to him, brushing his soft hair back. “Look, buddy. Fish. Do you see them?”

He babbled in response, his little fingers curling around the edge of the stroller as he tried to take everything in. "Fish." He called out.

Natasha knelt beside Stella, pointing out the different species in the tank. “See that one? That’s a clownfish. And there, that’s a tang, just like Dory.”

Stella gasped, her face lighting up. “Like the movie! Do you think they’re friends?”

“I bet they are,” Natasha replied, her voice soft and warm. For a moment, her usual guarded demeanor slipped, replaced by pure affection for her daughter.

As you moved on to the next exhibit, a massive tank that stretched from floor to ceiling, filled with rays and small sharks gliding effortlessly through the water, Stella gasped again, this time louder. “Mama, look! Sharks!”

Natasha’s face softened at the sound of Stella’s pure excitement. "Yes, there they are. Look how graceful they are."

"They look sleepy," Stella whispered in awe, her nose pressed against the glass as she watched a sand tiger shark slowly swim by.

You couldn’t help but admire the sight in front of you—Natasha, disguised but still every bit the mother she had become, and Stella, full of curiosity and joy. The sight made your heart swell with emotion. It felt like a lifetime ago that you had thought about having a family, let alone having one with Natasha. Now, as you watched the two of them, the love and happiness you felt was almost overwhelming.

"Hey, ma'am mind if I take your picture?" One of the workers with a camera asked. You glanced at Natasha, already knowing the answer, but instead of saying no, she reached out to give him her phone instead. She whispered something in his ear that you couldn't hear and pulled out a bill from her pocket.

"Of course," You smiled, leaning down to pick up Stella. You pressed your cheek against hers while Natasha scooped Nicky out of the stroller. Your smiles were wide and genuine.

"Thank you," Natasha said. "You guys have a great day!"

"You too," The man smiled, waving at Nicky, who waved back.

You put Stella down, watching her run off to the next tank. It took an entire hour to make it around the entire aquarium. You'd reached the gift shop and allowed for Stella to pick out a gift.

"That one," She demanded as she stood on the tip of her toes to reach the shark tooth necklace dangling from a display.

"Let me get that," Natasha said.

"Mom, look," Stella exclaimed, pointing at the shark tooth necklace.

"I see. Are you sure that's the one you want?"

"Yep, I am." Stella nodded excitedly.

"Okay," Natasha chuckled. Natasha purchased the necklace, carefully taking it out of the box and clasping it around Stella's neck.

"I'm gonna keep it forever and ever," Stella grinned widely. Another picture was taken on Natasha's phone. A beautiful moment to capture.

"Forever and ever," Natasha repeated.

After the visit, you and Natasha treated Stella and Nicky to ice cream.

"This has been the best birthday," Stella hummed as she licked at her ice cream. "Can we come back, please?"

"Maybe," Natasha smiled. "We'll have to see."

"Can I see the pictures?" Stella asked, looking at Natasha's phone.

"Sure," You replied. You flipped through the photos, stopping at one of you, Natasha, and the kids, the four of you smiling widely at the camera.

Stella pointed at the picture. "Is that us?"

"It is," Natasha answered.

"I love it," Stella declared, her eyes crinkling the same way Natasha's did when she smiled. "I want to look at it every day."

You glanced up at Natasha, a small smile playing on your lips.

"Me too," Natasha agreed.

Lots of foreshadowing here.

next part

#black widow x female reader #natasha x reader #black reader #natasha romanoff #black widow x reader #natasha romanov #natasha x you

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livelaughlovesubs · 8 months ago

Note

Hi hello! Delicos Nursery has me in a headlock nowCan you please do "mocking for involuntary reactions" and "ruining a part of their body they take pride in" (hair most likely) for Gerhard for the prompt event?

Love how we are all shaken by the pretty men (Gerhard) in delico’s nursery. It’s so rare to see the focus be on hot men. Btw my friend pointed out how its easy to mistype his name into gethard

Dom!Reader x sub!gerhard (?)

Warning: mean reader, stepping, dacryphilia, teasing, (tell me if I forgot smt, cuz I feel like I did)

Anniversary event

You sat down on the emergency stairs of one of the buildings, humming to yourself, waiting for the plan to unfold by itself. “Five more seconds, and he should be here.” That’s what the plan suggested anyway. In the meantime you scanned your surroundings. It was disgustingly filthy, absolutely immortal. Yet, the sound of water dripping into small puddles from pipes and roofs was weirdly calming.

As soon as you started doubting the script, the heavy breathing of an entity reached your ears, the person was getting closer to you. When they turned around the corner they stepped into one of the small puddles with their heels, making the water splash around. It was dark, since it was in the middle of the night. Based on your assumptions, you’d say they haven’t noticed you, you’ve been hidden well behind the shadows after all.

The old street lamp barely illuminated this dirt poor corner of the city, though the moonlight did. You could make out the outlines of the person, they were a tall individual with long, shiny golden hair that reflected the light of the moon. It swayed with their every move, and it seemed to have been meticulously tied up. The efforts didn’t go unnoticed, because you had to admit, their locks were beautiful.

Without making a single sound, you waited, waiting until they’ve come close enough. Their appearance emerged from the darkness, the bright moonlight helped in exposing their identity, it was your target, Gerhard Fra. A pretty important person, someone useful to your little terrorist group. With a swift move, you jumped and landed behind him, kicking him to the ground before he could react. “What- arrrggg..?!!” He yelped, clutching his sword tightly before pathetically trying to swing it at you.

It wasn’t difficult to dodge it, and you easily disarmed him while you were at it, kicking the weapon out of his hands before stepping on the body part. “UrgHHh!! You- you are a one of the pendulums aren’t you?” Gerhard groaned, gritting his teeth at the pain. He clawed at the floor with his free hand, trying to push himself up but to no avail. “Yep, that’s me.” You answered nonchalantly, there was no reason for you to hide your identity, in fact, you’ve been waiting to introduce yourself to him.

His clean white pants have been soaked now, alongside his refined uniform, but these things didn’t seem to bother him. Rather, he tried to gain some kind of information out of you, yelling through the streets, “who are you? And what are your motives?” A sense of anger became the fundaments of his voice, he turned his head over his shoulder, staring right at you. He tried to etch your looks into his brain to the best of his ability.

“These things aren’t that important.” You mumbled, and reached out for his high ponytail, wrapping your hand around the base of it. He tied his hair very tightly, and thoroughly, he definitely invests a lot of time into his golden locks. “Why don’t you tell me about you instead?” The male glared at you, and his feisty reaction was met with you yanking on his hair, making him arch his back at the strength you used and whine involuntarily, “aahHh…!”

“Oh? What a nice reaction there.” He shuddered at your teasing comment and bit his bottom lip when you sat down on his back, pressing him down with your weight. “Can I hear it once more?” You asked a rhetorical question, smirking as you did, pulling on his hair once again. It had the same outcome as before, with him whimpering into the depths of the alley, ordering you around as a last resort, “hnngg! S-stop it this instand!”

Your laughter bounced off the walls, making him feel humiliated. “You can’t even control yourself in front of the enemy, stuttering like that. As if I’d listen to you.” Honestly, you wanted him to get off his high horse. Did he really believe you’d obey his commands considering the position you two were in? “God, this is so much fun, your attitude’s almost cute! Haha~!” A sense of shame flashed across his eyes, his cheeks had a rosy taint to them, he was blushing.

After glancing around for a bit, you saw his sword lying in the mud. An idea crossed your mind, so you took hold of his weapon, bringing it closer to him. Though, you didn’t rest it against his throat as he feared, instead you held it above his ponytail. “Hey Gerhard, your hair’s so long. How long did it take you to grow it out?” The male gulped, dreadful about the fact you knew his name. “Why are you asking?” Gerhard scoffed, still not over his fury.

You shrugged, acting unbothered before you rubbed the sharp edge of his sword against his bush of hair. “I guess your hair’s not that important to you after all, so I can cut it, right?” His eyes widened, mouth agape as he tried to talk you out of it, “w-what does cutting my hair matter?! I wouldn’t tell you anything neither way!” When your eyes met, he felt a shiver run down his spine, that look you bore told him you weren’t doing it out of a logical standpoint, it was for your own satisfaction.

“I knew you would never tell me anything about the true of vamp, don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” Your statement was immediately met with his protest, “then.. you don’t need to do something unnecessary!” You smiled at him, shaking your head at his words, “it’s not unnecessary. You like your hair don’t ya? So, it’s an emotional attack.” The vampire clenched his teeth, sweating as he was in pure disbelief. He couldn’t find the right words to convince you.

Then you yanked on it one last time, before using his sword to cut the ponytail off. “No- Stop! Wait!” Gerhard shouted when he noticed the tight knot he did disappear, he tried to stand up again, to push you off him, but it just didn’t work. “Hmm? What did you say~?” you giggled, finding his desperate expression’s fun. “I-, p-please don’t..” he whispered breathlessly, pulling a pitiful grimace. This was the last thing he wanted to do, to beg his enemy, but he really hated the thought of losing his hair.

You stopped for a second, then said, “so you do know how to ask politely, but isn’t it a bit late now?” In that moment, at last, you did the last cut, now holding this batch of blond locks in your hand and shaking it around before dropping it like some waste. It was no longer connected to his head, but laying around in the dirty mud. “Ah..” He whined in surprise, his hair only went to his ears now, and it framed his face messily. His eyes shrunk, pupils shaking visibly, one look and you could tell he was devastated.

“Come now, don’t act like I killed your friend or something.” You sighed, showing him fake pity. That’s when you noticed his eyes getting moist, with what you assumed to be tears. “Huh, ya’ crying?” This time, you were genuinely shocked, staring at him who was hiding his face from you. “Shut up… I’ll kill you-” He threatened, but you interrupted him, “oh you are definitely crying!” Damn it, why did you have to keep humiliate him?

Once again your unrestrained laughter echoed through the alley, you could barely contain yourself as you mocked him, “Haha~ your new haircut doesn’t look half bad, you know? Don’t worry too much, you still have your pretty face, I’ll save that one for our next meeting.”

With that, you escaped from the crime scene, leaving his frozen state behind to take care of the mess.

#sub character #sub!character #dom reader #dom!reader #delico's nursery #delicos nursery #gerhard fra #Gerhard x Reader #Gerhard x y/n #Gerhard x you #Gerhard fra delicos nursery #sub Gerhard #anniversary event

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junedenim · 8 months ago

Text

the dignity fucks off

what happens when he stares

warnings: smut, blowjob, p in v, masturbating, fingering, eating, etc. basically the smuttiest thing i've written

word count: 5.2k

Your left tennis shoe scruffs against the clay court. That's what grabs his attention first. Then, the ruffles on the skirt of your dress—white and short—fluttering with the turn on your hips. You swing your arm, moving back, and slamming the ball across the way to your tennis coach.

It lands out-of-bounds and you drop your racquet. "I'm done!" You announce.

"But your dad has me booked for an hour?" Your coach yells back.

You scrunch up your nose and Alex is lost in it, every divet of you, lost in it. He hangs off the half-wall fence, leaning over, watching this scene. Your ponytail sways in the wind as you walk off the court.

"You'll get your payment," you tell him. "But I'm sweaty, I don't want to do this anymore." You pass by him, squinting at him. His eyes have unintentionally followed you the whole way and he knows he must look like the biggest creep. "The grass is overgrown, don't you think?" This comment is directed toward him.

He stands up straight, a stuttering mess. "Uh, yeah, yeah, I'll, um, I'll take care of that one."

"Good." You walk away and he watches you as you do this and then you turn back and—fuck! He must look like an obsessive freak (worst of all, he kind of feels like he is and doesn't care). "Is the pool clean?"

He nods. "Yeah, I just finished cleaning it a few minutes ago."

You sigh and place your hands on your hips. "Yeah, but sometimes in that time frame the leaves fall into the pool because of that dumb tree that hangs over it."

"I can clean it up for you again."

"Could you?" You're twirling the ends of your ponytail with your hands.

He can't deny you, both because it's his job, but you're also batting those eyelashes and he's already such a goner lost in you. It started on his first day when you returned home from school for summer vacation. You got out of the car in two braids in short shorts and he thought you were some worker, not the daughter. Your outfit didn't match the extravagance of the house or the elegance of your parents. That attitude was scrubbed away quickly as you were forced into these lavish things, including tennis.

"Do you want to swim with me?" You ask.

You've never been this upfront with him. Your conversations have exclusively been orders and demands. "Oh, I can't. I still have to mow this lawn, you know."

"You can take a break," you insist.

"Your dad would kill me."

"My dad is at work so that technically means I'm your boss and you look awfully hot so you're going to swim with me. Although you should wash off before, your hands look a little dirty. I'm going to change into my suit and I expect to meet you by my clean pool."

He yells after you. "I don't have a suit."

"Then go naked!" You yelled back, rounding the corner before he had a say in anything.

There are no leaves in the pool but he waits for you. As the minutes pass on more and more, it becomes increasingly more likely that you're going to be a no-show and this is all you playing a trick on him.

You come out with a towel over your arm and a skimpy bikini that is your usual swim attire. "You clean out the leaves, pool boy? Are you the pool boy?"

"Not technically but I guess I'm the one who looks after it."

You hum at this information and drop your towel on one of the recliners. "Sit," you instruct him.

"The grass isn't going to cut itself," he says.

You roll your eyes exaggeratedly. "Well, no, but I want you to sit." Alex listens and sits across from you. "I don't mean to boss you around. You do have free will if you want to cut the grass."

"No, it's fine."

"You look like you need a break anyway. Plus, what would you pick me or grass?"

He thinks the question is rhetorical until you're leaning forward, signaling for an answer. "Oh, uh, you, I guess."

You scoff, "You guess? You're not a very good liar."

"I'm not lying." He's full of bullshit and the biggest liar on the planet. He'd pick you over anything let alone a menial housework duty.

"I know. You're pretty obvious with your staring."

Fuck. He is a creep. "I'm sorry about all that."

"Oh, I don't care. I'm used to people looking. I wouldn't invite you to swim with me if I thought you were going to assault me or something." He guesses that's a comfort to his psyche. "Do you want to know a secret?"

He nods and you bite your lip, nodding for him to come closer. Up against his ear, you whisper, "Sometimes, I stare too." You pull back and peck him on the lips. There's nothing overtly sexual about it but your lips are smooth with gloss and you're teasing in every sense; your hand on his thigh, drifting up closer and closer, your eyes trained on him, watching, staring.

Alex is caught, unsure what to do. You giggle at his reaction and pull away, leaving him stunned completely and he feels like he has been paralyzed. You leave him, jumping into the pool while he processes.

"Get in!" You splash up at him, making him attempt to shield himself.

"I'm not getting caught skinny dipping with you."

Your eyelashes drip of water as you bat them. "You want me to skinny dip?"

"No, I mean, do whatever you want—"

"So, you do want me to skinny dip." You're a trickster and he has a feeling you would accidentally make him confess to murder with your wordplay.

"I'm leaving."

You're cackling at him and he feels like he's being made fun of but that laugh is adorable. He'll return to the grass and relive this moment in his head while he does the whole yard and then when he's in bed tonight and, man, he's fucked.

"Hey, Alex!" You call out after him and he's shocked you even know his name. Your hair is wet, you're wet, dripping down your body, teasing him. "One of the lights in my room is acting up, can you fix that?"

But he works for you or, well, works for your dad, either way, you have to be playing him and any fantasy stays in his mind. "I'll get right on that."

"After the lawn," you request.

"After the lawn."

He's twisting in a lightbulb when you return to your room, hair still dripping water, towel wrapped around your soaked body. "Did you fix it?"

Words, words, words, Alex, words! "Uh, yeah." It takes every fiber in him to not stare at your boobs. "It was, uh, just a lightbulb."

"Cool," you say carelessly, dropping the towel. "Can you undo my top? It's tied to it too tightly."

You've turned around and his internal monologue is going haywire. He could just untie it but that's too far. There's no going back after that. But he thinks you want it that way. And he wants it that way. So, what's so wrong about it?

His fingers fiddle and your body shakes with laughter. "Are you making fun of me?" He asks, trying to rid himself of these nerves.

"No, I swear." You turned around, holding the bikini top to your chest. "I'm charmed by you."

"Thanks," he mutters.

You giggle. "Your turn."

"My turn what?"

"Your shorts or your shirt? I'll let you choose."

"To-to take off?"

You nod.

"Oh, uh, I don't know—"

"Fine. Your shirt," you say carefreely like you're deciding on what you'll have for lunch. In this scenario, he's lunch. "Come on." You're smiling and your hands are sliding and it's so close to your breasts being exposed. He'd be lying if he said he was salivating to see your boobs. They are staring right at him. So, he reaches down and takes off his shirt.

Your smile is devious and he clings to the thought that you're actually attracted to him and he isn't making this whole thing up in his mind. "Now, your shorts."

"What about your top?" He quickly asks. He winces at the thought that he is coming off as a pervert.

You chuckle, your smile beaming. "See, I knew you weren't as coy as you come off as. I like a man who can take charge, you know."

His heart is beating so fast and all the blood has rushed away from his head and down south that he thinks he is going to pass out. "Then, take it off."

You bite your lip, dropping the top, allowing him to get a peek at the tops of your breasts before you cover them with your arms. "There."

"No, no, no, let me see." He's having fun with this game now with your permission and his cock doing the talking, he's gaining confidence in this whole exchange but remains terrified this is some prank you're pulling on him and he's about to get fired.

But you drop your arms, your nipples perked up, and he loses all thoughts and is fine getting fired because it's like he's witnessing the Eighth Wonder of the World. You're staring straight at him, imploring him for more, and wordlessly telling him to remove his shorts.

With just his underwear left, he tells you, "Your bottoms now."

You listen, pulling them off, completely naked in front of him. You turn around, your bare ass to him, compelling him to get lost in the sight of it, all the curves, crevices, and notes of it.

Then, you open the top drawer of your dresser. "What are you doing?" He asks.

"Getting dressed," you reply.

Alex isn't sure what overcomes him—a demon, an unknown force, his dick—but he grabs you by the waist, turns you in his arm, and kisses you. It's powerful and he's pushed you up against your set of drawers, rattling the items atop it. Your arms wrap around his neck, tightening a hold on him and pulling him closer to you. It's hard, it's rough, and there's no escape, neither of you allowing the other to leave your grasp.

You pull away an inch, out of breath and breathing in each other's air, still trapped in one another. "Can I blow you?"

"What?" His ears are deceiving him. He's sure of it.

You giggle, captivated by every piece of him. "You're so cute. Can I give you a blowjob?"

He nods quickly. "Yeah, yeah, fuck yes." You're on your knees in front of him, pulling down his underwear off all the way, and taking his dick into your mouth before he can even process this whole situation.

Alex closes his eyes as he feels your tongue swirling over the head of his shaft, licking up the precum. He can feel your tongue everywhere on him, licking up the underside before circling around his head again. He lets out a moan, and his hand seems to automatically find its way into your damp hair, pulling you closer to him.

"That feels so fucking good," he tells you, and he starts to pump his hips a little, shoving his dick further into your mouth, pushing the back of your head against the drawers. You open wider, wanting to get as much of his cock into your mouth as you can, feeling it hit the back of your throat, which gets a moan out of you, too. He feels like he's going to come, embarrassed by not lasting long but it's uncontrollable and he figures that if he's going to do it he might as well tell you. "Fuck, I think I'm gonna come already."

"Do it," you order him, your words muffled around his member. You bring a hand up to take a firm grasp of his cock, and you start pumping, pulling your lips back and making sure they're tightly around his head. You lift your eyes to watch his body spasm as he empties into your mouth, his cum coating your tongue and sliding down to the back of your throat. Your eyes close in pleasure as it moves through your mouth, and you suck his dick greedily to make sure you got every drop. When you're sure, you pull away and make a show of swallowing his load, bringing a finger up to wipe away anything that might have escaped.

"Wow," is all Alex can manage as he tries to wrap his mind around what just happened. "Do you know how fucking good you are at that?"

"I know," you shrug nonchalantly. "Lots of guys tell me that. You taste good, you know. Have you ever been told that?" He shakes his head. He didn't know that was a common compliment you give to guys. "Most guys are more salty, but your cum kind of tastes sweet. Might be because you're a sweet guy. I haven't been with a lot of sweet guys." Alex has no idea what to say to that so he just nods his head dumbly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm just a little..." he's out of breath and points to his head.

You smile up at him, all cutesy and desperately wishing to take a picture and remember the way you look on your knees forever. "I didn't know I was that good."

He huffs out a breath. "You're fucking brilliant."

"Thanks." You stand up, moving over to your bed. "Do you want to continue?"

Alex observes you, his mind running a million miles per second. You're sitting on your bed, legs crossed hiding your pussy, but leaning back on your arms perfectly exposing your boobs. "Fuck yes."

You're laughing at him again, pushing your hair back behind your ear. "You like to watch, don't you?"

Alex has to agree, he guesses this whole thing came out of him being a creep watching you. "You. Looking like that. Yeah."

You scoot back on your bed, open your legs, and slide your hand down, meeting your core. Your hands touch your clit and Alex watches, stupefied, wide eyes, and he's pretty sure his jaw is hanging open.

Your fingers round on your clit and you're softly moaning to yourself. You reach up and squeeze one of your breasts and he swears to god he thinks he's about to come again just at the sight. He leans against the drawers to steady himself. You work away at yourself quickly, moaning soft moans. He reaches down and strokes his soft cock. It's still sensitive but he needs to touch himself after the stimulus he's watching. Your hips move up and you toss your head back with a final loud moan.

You lie back on the bed, regaining breaths. Your hair is messed about in the pillow and you look over at Alex, peering down at his dick in his hand, smiling. "How'd I do?"

He can't think of words, just taking his head and slowly stroking his cock.

"Come here." You make grabby hands at him, waving him over. He sits on the edge of the bed but you sit up and grab his arm. "Come closer."

Alex is sitting in front of you, your cunt staring straight at him, mesmerizing him. You drag his arm closer to you and place his hand on top of it. He looks up at you, unsure of what you want him to do. You pick up his hand, closing his hand into a fist, and extending two of his fingers.

He slips the fingers through your folds experimentally. You feel so soft and wet and amazing and he can't believe this is happening. He feels his fingers dip when he gets to the back. He hesitates, wanting to do it perfectly, trying to sit and line up the best way possible before slipping them inside. He knows he did the right thing when you moan his name. "That feel good?"

"So good," you tell him, your eyes fluttering closed. "Your fingers are so good, I can't wait to feel your cock inside me."

The combination of your words and the feeling of your pussy stretching around his fingers is enough to start getting him hard again in record time. He brings his free hand to his shaft and starts pumping up and down again.

You spot the sight. "You want to fuck me?" you question, your breath a bit short from his fingers working on you. You sit up and push him to sit against the headboard. He thinks he's having a stroke when you straddle him. This has got to be a fucking dream, don't wake up, don't wake up, don't wake up.

He takes a deep breath as you take hold of his dick, shuffling forward until the tip is brushing against you. He inhales sharply at the sensation and smiles nervously when you giggle at his reaction.

Slowly, you sink onto it. It's your turn to gasp. "Fuck, you're tight." It falls out of his mouth and he's still scared that everything he says is going to make you pull back and end this thing, order him out of the room, fire him, destroy him. But you grab his face, tilting his head up, and kissing his lips. Alex's arms wrap around your back, hugging you to him. His eyes start to roll to the back of his head as he continues to slip inside of you, the feeling so overwhelming. He wants to make sure you feel as good as he does. "How does that feel?"

"Fucking amazing," you manage to get out, your words finishing just as he gets his entire length in. You hold still for a moment to collect yourself. His senses are going into overdrive, and it's taking all of his concentration not to come already. You hold onto his shoulders as you lift yourself beginning a rhythm.

Alex watches your face contort as he moves in and out of you, and the way you squeeze your eyes shut tightly when he hits you particularly deep. He thinks this couldn't possibly get any better, but then he starts jutting his hips out to meet his thrusts, and you both feel like a new sensation has been hit. Something neither of you have felt before. You're clutching at him and he's clutching at you as you move quicker and quicker.

Then, Alex rolls you over and takes control, thrusting into you. You're whining and muttering things and he's grunting and moaning.

"Harder," you pant out, trying to collide your pussy against his cock as hard as you can.

He's huffing and he's so close, but he refuses to go before you. He tries to thrust into you faster and as hard as he possibly can.

"Fuck, fuck yeah, just like that," you cry out, continuing to buck into him. You reach up and grab his neck, pulling him down to your chest. He reaches up, caressing your side, and squeezing your tit. He pinches your nipple, twisting it around in his fingers and you're going to lose it.

"Shit," you moan at the feeling, waves of pleasure rolling through your entire body. You clench around him. His body jerks and he lets go, unloading deep inside of you. He jerks a few more times on top of you, emptying what's left. When he starts to roll over, you hold onto his waist, keeping him there. "No, stay inside."

You lie there with him on top of you recovering. You give him a kiss just below his ear. Alex pushes up onto his elbows to look at you, his dick still tucked inside you. "Are you okay? Was it good for you?"

You reach up, playing with bits of his hair, and beaming. "It was amazing. You're a nice boy, Alex."

"Thanks. You were—you are amazing."

"Do you, I don't know..." You're acting shy now and the thought that he is making you shy leaves him dumbfounded. "Do you maybe want to go again?"

He's eager, nodding quickly, "Of course."

You're giggling, petting his hair. "Okay."

"Like now?"

He apparently must be doing stand-up because you're bursting with laughter. "If you've recovered that quickly."

"I mean, no, but I can get myself there." Three times in less than an hour would be a record for him but he is desperate and if he's going to do it anytime it would be now.

"Okay." You bite your thumb. "You want to fuck your cum into me?"

He's collapsing on top of you, light-headed at the thought. "You can't say shit like that to me."

"Why?" His head is resting on top of your boobs so you reach up, threading your fingers through his hair.

He's fantasizing about it. It's crazy. He's fantasizing about it and he's about to do it. He feels like everything has shifted in the past couple of hours and he can't remember why he didn't want to come to work today. He can't imagine that there was a time when he hated this job.

He sticks his tongue out and licks your nipple making you squeal. You wiggle your body and his cock moves in you and—yeah he's ready to go again.

"I want to be on top again," you announce.

He feels relaxed with you like he has already shown you all the sides of him, he can now be comfortable with you. "You like being in charge."

"Well, I am your boss."

He squints. "Does that mean you're paying to have sex with me?"

For once, you laugh at an actual joke he has made, instead of his idiot self. You lean forward and whisper in his ear. "Do you like being my hooker, Alex?" You're biting on the lobe of his ear and he swears this is heaven.

"Well, technically your dad is paying me so—"

You pull back and hit his chest, shoving him away from you. "Ew! Don't say things like that. Ew! Ew! Ew!"

Alex softly chuckles at the whole display and grabs a hold of your hips to keep you from moving around or off of him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I swear."

You slowly still and look back at him. You're staring and he's worried you've changed your mind. You lean forward, wrapping your arms around his neck, cuddling yourself to his chest. "I believe you." You pull back and peck him. "Are we ready now?"

He nods.

"No more bad jokes."

"I swear," he promises.

Once you've both composed yourselves enough, you start to grind your hips down into him, burying his cock as deep inside of you as you can.

"You're so deep," you tell him, placing a hand on his chest to lean forward a bit, before slamming back down. You move up and down his cock slowly at first before your body takes over and you start riding him faster.

Alex watches you move, his dick slipping through his own load, making it easier to move in and out. He reaches up, groping at your boobs as you continue to roll your hips in just the right way so that his cock is hitting all the right places deep inside of you. He can't decide between watching his cock disappearing inside of you or your tits bouncing up and down as you grind into him.

He opts for watching his cock, and slipping in and out of you somehow feels even more amazing while watching it. You alternate between rolling your hips and moving up and down on his dick, and when you lean back and give him a better view, he can see some of his cum leaking out of your hole, and sliding down his shaft. It just turns him on more, and he starts pumping up to meet your hips.

Your walls close in on him, tightening around him as you start to convulse on top of him. Your orgasm rips through you, causing your hips to buck and quake around Alex's cock, setting him off. He comes right after you, shooting a second load into your already cum filled pussy, the white liquid immediately starting to seep out of you because there was nowhere for it to go. You pulse together for a moment, your core sending pulses through his dick, completely overwhelming him. His legs shake as he comes down, spent.

"Fuck, that was nice," you sigh, moving off of him to collapse onto his side. Now that Alex isn't inside of you anymore, you can feel all of his cum starting to ooze out of you. "My bed is gonna get dirty," you say, but make no effort to move. You widen your legs to slip a finger in you, your digit getting covered. You lift it up to his lips. "Try it."

"Me?"

"Yeah, you, come on, try it," you encourage, poking the finger at his lips. He sucks on your finger. "How's it taste?"

It's an odd feeling, tasting his own cum. "I don't know," he laughs. "Good. I've never tasted jizz before."

You giggle and fall onto your back, stretching out. His eyes stare down your whole body, still captivated by your boobs. "I like it. Should I get other samples for you?"

He tugs you closer to him and you roll onto his chest. "Shut up," he mutters. You peer up at him so instantly, he'd fall at your feet if he was standing. Instead, he leans down and kisses you chastely with no intentions for more. "I should probably get back to work."

You pout and sit up, figuring it's best to clean up now. Or have Sonya change your sheets. "Okay."

Alex stands up and is quick to get his clothes back on, not wanting to be caught off the clock.

"Do you want to come back later?" You ask.

"Like tonight?" Alex questions. You're standing naked in the doorway between your bedroom and your bathroom and it's easy to say if you said, "Jump," he'd say, "How high?"

"Yeah," you nod, "like sometime after dinner."

"Uh, yeah, sure," he quickly agrees.

You disappear into the bathroom. "Alright. Don't keep me waiting."

"You kept me waiting!" You whine as you open your bedroom door.

He walks in, shutting the door behind him. "Sorry, sorry. I was stuck fixing something in your dad's office."

You lean on him, your arms around your neck, pouting up at him. "What about me? Aren't I more important?"

Alex quietly laughs. His arms wrap around your waist, skimming up and down on your lower back. "I mean, yeah, but what did you want me to say to your dad? 'I have to go fuck your daughter.'"

You roll your eyes. "Fine. But you're still keeping me waiting."

"You want me to take care of you?" He flirts, eyeing you all around.

He nods slowly, looking up at him as he leans down and kisses you. You quickly back up into your bed and lie down on it together. It's much more caring than last time. It's slow and sensual and he does this thing where he strokes his hand up your side but doesn't try to take your shirt off.

You make the first move, setting everything into action. You pull his shirt off, interrupting your making out. Alex seems to get the message to put a move on things so he lifts your shirt off and you're not wearing a bra, of course, causing him to mutter, "Fuck" at the sight of your naked breasts.

He smothers them, kissing them, rounding his tongue on your nipples making you moan. You grab his hair, your fingers clutch onto it. His hair is so messy and out of place already, you're just making it worse.

Alex moves down, kissing down your body before he reaches your pajama shorts, so small and petite that your ass sticks out of them. He kisses the knot you've made in the front before slowly untying it, making you ache in anticipation. You lift your hips and he pulls them down agonizingly slow.

He looks back up, staring at your bare cunt. He takes you by surprise and suddenly his mouth is on it. You moan, your body shaking at the slightest contact, his tongue a huge relief. "More." He wraps his lips around your clit and sucks for a bit, the flat of his tongue applying pressure at the same time, before moving back down to your hole again, dipping his tongue as far into you as it will go. Your hand moves to grip his hair again, this time tighter, as he pumps in and out of you, pulling his face even closer.

Your hips start to buck into his mouth, driving Alex's tongue deeper and deeper into you, and you can feel yourself building up. "Fingers. Use your fingers." You commanded. He instantly listens, replacing his tongue with two fingers and moving back up to suck on your clit. He licks and sucks and pumps until you start quivering against him, your orgasm hitting you brutishly.

Once your shaking lessens, he kisses your lower stomach, waiting for your next instructions.

"Well?" You question. He takes that as an invitation to make his next move. He sits up and grabs your waist, spinning you around and setting you down on all fours in front of him. You let out a yelp at the movement.

He pulls you back against him, lining himself up and slamming into you. The softness from before is gone and replaced with utter hard need. His sweetness slips through as he asks, "Does that feel okay?"

"Yes, it feels really fucking good," you heavily breathe out. Your face pressed against the bedsheets as you push your ass back into him, meeting him thrust for thrust as he pounds into you.

He wraps his arms around your stomach and continues the rough pace. "Do you want me to go slower?" He asks.

"No!" You quickly shout. You're clawing at your sheets, desperate for relief. "Keep going." So, as always, he listens as he hammers into you, his grip tight on your hips as he drags you into him.

"So close," you gasp out, bucking back into him frantically. He brings a hand up to your clit and his fingers work away, rubbing it for you. He feels right on the edge and you're only pulling him closer and closer. "I'm gonna..."

You don't get a chance to finish your sentence as you start to spasm against him, coming harder. Your body jerks as you orgasm, and just as you start calming down, you feel his cock throbbing before he lets go inside of you for a third time.

"Oh, god, fucking fuck, fuck," he moans, his body feeling totally out of control. You lie down, slipping off of him. You let your body vibrate for a minute or two. Alex watches, unsure of how to move, catching his breath. You turn your head and smile at Alex, whose eyes are glued to you. His chest heaving and his cock is still dirty, but his eyes remain on you.

"You're working tomorrow, right?" You ask.

He nods. "Yeah."

You smile devilishly. You sit up and kiss him sweetly on the lips. "I have just the job for you."

a/n: so...how y'all doing?

#alex turner fic #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x oc #alex turner x reader #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x you #alex turner smut #alex turner #junedenim

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