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oikarma · 3 months ago

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look me in the eye | pt.1

pairing: max verstappen x rbr!engineer!reader

summary: the rb21 seems unfixable but that might not be the only reason max verstappen wants you around.

a/n: kind of angsty? think this will be two parts. 2k-ish words!

part one / part two / part three

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

The paddock is full of wind and empty promises. Bahrain's desert nights hold no warmth for those who find themselves at war with machines. Under the harsh lights of the Red Bull garage, your hands are stained with grease, burnt rubber and fuel having become your signature scent. The RB21 sits before you so still, like a child being yelled at. It's internals are exposed, betraying the effort you have poured into it. Another night. Another battle against the unworkable.

You wipe your forehead and the action leaves a dark trail.

"It's not you," Max's voice is acute in comparison to the exhausted engineers around you. "It's the car."

You sigh and rub your hand across your face again, leaving a another streak of oil on your cheek. "I've been through every possible variation of the floor. I've checked the suspension settings, even the cooling package. Nothing sticks. It’s like-"

"-like trying to control a wild animal?" he offers, a small smirk at the corner of his lips.

You huff. It could be a laugh, on some other day, but right now there is no humor in the situation. "More like taming a hurricane with duct tape."

Max leans against the workbench. His arms are crossed over his chest. Even under the brutal garage lights, even with this stupid car that no one but him can drive with some semblance of control, he's certain. "Well, you're still making it work."

That earns a scoff from you. "You make it work, Max. I just throw everything at the wall and hope something sticks."

His gaze sharpens, and it seems to pierce right through you. You, not just an engineer, but as a person who's given up everything to this job, to this team, to him.

"That's not true," he says quietly. "You don't just try. You build. You fix. You see what no one else does. And I-" He catches himself here, unsure how appropriate it'll sound. "I trust you."

The words, from him of all people, settle in your chest like an anchor. Trust is not given freely in Formula One; it is earned, lap by agonizing lap, through victories and through failures. You are not his race engineer. You're just another member of his team. There, hardly noticeable.

You doubt anyone outside RBR, outside the engineering teams, knows your name. Max Verstappen does, though, and that counts for something.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Australia is supposed to be a fresh start.

A new track, a chance to see if anything has changed. But as you watch Lando Norris cross the line in first place, with Max trailing behind in P2, your stomach sinks. The celebrations begin almost immediately. Confetti, cheers, McLaren mechanics embracing as if they had won the championship itself. You want to slap someone. In it feels like they have. They have proof that their car is faster, that their work is paying off in a way yours isn't.

Still, you push it down. Max fought for this podium, and you owe it to him to be happy.

When he walks into the garage, you're already there, waiting with the rest of the team. He’s drenched in sweat, his fireproofs clinging to his skin. He should be tired, but the familiar sharp focus is in his eyes, even now. He's always noticing things.

You force a smile and clasp his shoulder.

"P2, Max. You dragged that car through hell for it."

He exhales, running a hand through his hair. "It wasn't easy." Max gives you a small smile. The way it doesn't fully turn up at the ends of his mouth betrays how tired he really is, despite playing it off. "You gave me something to fight with."

You nod. Your smile doesn't reach your eyes either. The noise of celebration around you turning to static. He sees it. Of course he does.

Max opens his mouth to say something else, but he's getting pulled away again for some interviews.

Later, when the festivities have died down, he finds you outside the garage. Away from the crowd. You sit on a stack of worn-out Pirelli tire blankets, staring at the ground. The sound of approaching footsteps doesn't startle you.

"What are you doing out here? No alcohol?" he asks. He always speaks sharply, concisely, reassured. Not anymore-Max is asking you now as he would a frightened animal. Don't run, it's as if he's saying, please stay.

You let out a breath. The weight of the race, the season, all of it pressing against your ribs. And then, before you can stop yourself-

"You're right," you murmur. "The McLaren is faster. We lack the pace."

The answer doesn't come right away. He's standing there, watching you with what might be regret. Because those are his words from mere hours ago, right after the race. A loose admission in the media pen, thrown out without a second thought. Max was happy with his race, not elated but he did things and the car was in the way and he forgot momentarily about all the work. He likes to be truthful with his words but he's slipped up.

And now, you're here, breaking yourself apart over them.

Max crouches down in front of you. His elbows rest on his knees. "That doesn't mean you failed."

You shake your head. "Feels like it."

He doesn't know what to tell you. Sorry? I'm sorry I said that. I was mad at the car. It wasn't about you.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. Then, hesitantly, he reaches out and rests a hand against your forearm.

"You don't give up," he says. "I don't. We adapt. We adapt."

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Shanghai is a lesson in patience.

The RB21 struggles on the mediums and the first stint is agony. You were worried about the lack of pace, the way the tires degrade faster than they should be. "We set out to do our pace, which was a fair bit slower than the cars around us," he later tells the reports, frustration just beneath the surface. "I'm trying not to destroy the tires."

Your stomach knots as you watch the sector times, the data painting a bleak picture. But when the switch to hards comes, something shifts.

There, the grip. There, a chance.

Lap by lap, the car becomes drivable. Not perfect, not dominant, but workable. And Max, as always, wrings everything out of it.

It's not a podium but after the disqualifications, it becomes P4. A bittersweet relief.

You find him outside your hotel room. The soft, golden glow of the hallway lights casts shadows across his features, sharp angles of exhaustion softened by something else.

"You know," you say as you close the door behind you. "For a man who just got handed an almost-podium, you're not looking very victorious."

His mouth twitches. "Doesn't feel like one, does it? I didn't earn it."

You tilt your head, considering. "Maybe not. Still, you can't count yourself out. Drinks?" You drum your fingers against the already-open minibar.

Max turns his head to look at you. "You always say things like that."

"I actually don't encourage you to drink that much," you defend.

"No. I mean, like you actually believe in all this." He gestures vaguely around as if the world of Formula One is something that can be captured in a single movement. "In the fight. Things turning around."

You shrug and take out a bottle. "Sure I do."

He studies you for longer than necessary, then shakes his head with a soft chuckle. "Crazy talk."

You feign offense and hold the drink close to your chest. "I am an engineer, Max. I deal in hard data and numbers. You're the intuitive one."

"Right." He eyes you, ever the skeptic. "Yet here you are, like a motivational quote board."

You grin. "Maybe I'm just trying to keep you from spiraling."

Max exhales through his nose, amused. "And here I thought I was keeping you from losing hope."

"Guess we're just stuck with each other then."

“Could be worse." His voice is lower now, the teasing edge giving way to something quieter.

The banter fades and here's a chance for you to do something. To let it sink in, to grasp the awful rawness of the moment. You don't know how.

"'least it's not Russell," you tell him. He flinches. It's small but doesn't slip your sight and you feel bad for making fun when he's trying to have a serious discussion. "Sorry. Feelings, hard. You know," you continue, "I think you actually had fun today."

His lips press together as if he's about to deny it. Instead, he relents. "Maybe a little."

"A miracle," you murmur.

"Don’t tell anyone."

You smirk. "Your secret's safe with me. Maybe we should hold off on the alcohol. Tipsy me isn't as trustworthy."

"I don't know about that." Max pretends to think. "Why don't we find out?"

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

When the sun wakes you up, Max has already managed to stumble back to his own room. Not entirely true. You just know he's no longer piss-drunk in yours.

Truth be told, you aren't as reluctant to spend time with him as you once were. His arrogant nature has softened with time. He's funny sometimes. But that isn't the only reason.

Red Bull was a hot mess the end of 2024. It is still one. You aren't out of options. You are friends with a friend who is friends with a head at McLaren and the offer sounds pretty good right now.

It's just a question of Max or Lando or Oscar. Or maybe there isn't a question at all.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Suzuka's next on your bucket list.

Red Bull's struggles have been the focal point of every media outlet, every discussion framed around whether the once-dominant team can claw its way back to the top.

You're in the motorhome, scrolling through your laptop, catching up on the latest coverage. A celsius-sorry, RB, but they just taste better- is by your side, half-finished. Then you see it. An interview, Max's face filling the screen, his expression as sharp and serious as ever. The reporter has just finished asking a question, pushing for insight into the difficulties he's been facing.

"It’s not easy," Max admits with his arms crossed. His Red Bull cap is pulled low over his eyes. "The car is… not where we want it to be. It's difficult to drive, unpredictable in certain corners, and sometimes it feels like I'm fighting it more than driving it."

You frown slightly, fingers tightening around the device. You've heard this before. You know all about his frustration, his honesty. It's a good trait that helps you know what to work on, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.

Then his tone shifts.

"But," he continues, "we're making progress. My engineer...she's putting everything into this car, finding solutions where it seems like there are none. Every race, every session, we're understanding it better. I have hope for the next races. Still very tough, but I trust her-sorry, them. We'll get there."

Oh, what a slip-up. Your breath catches. Max's face is slightly flushed. He definitely knows what he said.

You do too. Trust. He said it so simply.

You replay the clip, once, twice, and with every repeat, something warm coils in your stomach. The world hears his frustration, but you hear something else: recognition, appreciation. He sees what you do, what you give.

The corners of your lips curl into a smirk as you set the laptop down.

"Well," you say to yourself. "That was certainly something."

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

You don't know why you bring it up now, in the middle of the hospitality lounge, of all places. Maybe it's the exhaustion, maybe it's the way Max looked at you after the interview aired-like you were the only thing holding this team together. Like you were holding him together.

So you say it.

"I think I'm leaving next year."

Max, halfway through sipping his water, freezes. His fingers tighten around the bottle, knuckles turning white.

"No."

It’s not a question. Not even a reaction. Just a flat-out refusal.

You exhale, bracing yourself. "Max-"

"No," he repeats, louder this time. He sets the bottle down with a sharp thud, standing up so fast his chair scrapes against the floor. "You’re not leaving."

You stare at him, startled by the sheer force behind his words. "It's not up to you."

His jaw clenches, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. He looks like he's physically holding himself back, like if he doesn't control it, he might actually go berserk. At any other time you would be aware of the other engineers in the room, pretending not to notice whatever's going on, but he's taking up all of your attention right now. Subtlety is pushed to the back of your mind. "You can't leave," he says, voice rough. "Not after everything."

You swallow and your voice is still not steady. "Max, you know how bad this year has been. The car is-"

"I know how bad it is," he snaps. He steps closer. "I know better than anyone, because I'm the one driving it. But you-" Max exhales sharply, raking a hand through his hair. "You're the only one who makes it better."

Your heart stutters.

He’s staring at you now, eyes burning. You can't read what's behind them. "Every time I think this car is undriveable, you fix it. Every time I feel like I'm fighting a losing battle, you find a way to make it work." Max shakes his head, almost laughing. But it's humorless, frustrated. "And now you're telling me you want to leave? What am I supposed to do with that?"

You take a shaky breath. "Max, I-"

"You can't," he says again, and this time, his voice cracks. "Not you."

Max Verstappen has never been what people call a sentimental man. Right now, he looks as if tears are no longer foreign to him.

You should tell him it's just a thought, that nothing is decided yet. But the way he's looking at you-desperate, almost pleading-makes it impossible to lie.

So you say nothing. You give him that.

And Max? Max steps even closer, until there's barely any space between you. His gaze flickers down-to your lips, to the unsteady rise and fall of your chest-before meeting your eyes again.

"Stay," he murmurs. "Please."

And God help you, you don't know if you can say no.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

a/n: going back to my true roots as a narrative writer don't let this flop please xx

#formula one #max verstappen x reader #formula one x reader #f1 x you #f1 #max verstappen #x reader #oikarma ᯓᡣ𐭩

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district4loading · 6 months ago

Text

Blonde

Twice Sana x Male Reader

6K Words

Content Warning: angst, mentions of cheating, hate sex, possessive sana, breeding kink

Minors DNI

A/N: I've been wanting to write something about THIS^ Sana for a while now but I didn't really know where I wanted to go with the plot. That is until anon requested an interesting kinda angsty and toxic dynamic between reader and Sana.

From anon - "hear me out POSSESSIVE POWER BOTTOM SANA WITH A BREEDING KINK BUT WONT LET IT SHOW BECAUSE SHE’S A FUCKING BRAT AND YOU HATE HER BUT NOT HER BODY"

apologies to anon because I went a tad bit off script..

She's fucking blonde.

You don't know how you could ever allow Minatozaki Sana to ruin your life.

She's only five foot four and just a little over a hundred pounds but the heavy weight of her presence always seems to anchor you and keep you in her grip. You're broken up, you've been broken up for three months now. You made the decision to go no contact and completely cut her out of your life. It was the betrayal, the lying, the manipulating that acted as the final nail in the coffin, killing and burying any real love you had left for her. Now it's all bitter hatred.

It's taken you a while to get where you are. From thinking about her every day to only thinking of her maybe once a week. From not being able to listen to the songs you used to listen to together to merely flinching when they played on the radio. You weren't going to let memories of her turn the once normal parts of your life sour.

That's what you think right up until your doorbell rings.

You quirk your eyebrow and look up from your phone, wondering who could be at your door at five in the afternoon on a Wednesday. Package? No. Doordash? I wish. A friend? Maybe. You begin thinking of the possibilities as you walk the short distance from your computer to your front door. First you look through the peephole but you're only able to see your neighbors door. "Did I order something?" You mutter to yourself, checking your phone for a moment to see if you missed any emails.

Then you finally unlock your door and open it when you see that there was no email. You look down then you poke your head out, looking left then.. right. Your lips part and your eyebrows furrow as you try to process what the hell you're seeing in front of you right now. Or rather who. It takes you a minute to recognize that it's Sana and that's because something about her is different.

She's fucking blonde.

You're at a complete loss for words because you haven't seen or talked to her in months and now she's in front of you, staring into your soul with a fucking smirk on her face. She notices your gaze, full of confused awe and she thinks it's a good thing. "You like it? I did it for you" Her bottom lip juts out as she looks into your eyes.

"What..What are you doing here?" You begin to stammer as you ignored her question, having to remind yourself to breathe. She's just a girl.

"Are you saying I need a reason to visit my boyfriend?" She crosses her arms and you almost scoff, having half a mind to shut the door in her face. But you don't.

Instead, you make a face and shake your head "We're not together anymore Sana" She steps forwards and touches your hand and you almost immediately recoil and step back into your apartment "Don't touch me, I don't know where you've been." Sure it's a bit immature of you to say but after what she did to you, even feeling her hands on your body made you hostile. You want her nowhere near you.

"Seriously? It's been three months Y/n, get over it." She begins to get upset as if she had any right to. "I made one mistake and now you want to punish me for it forever! Listen he came on to me and-"

"You let him" You finish her sentence off coldly, your jaw clenching as the pain comes flooding back. That distinct ache in your chest, the turning in your stomach, she brought it all back and all she had to do was show up at your door. Your words stop her from talking and she gets this annoyed look on her face but before she can say anything else you actually gain a bit of strength and move to shut the door in her face. Sana puts her foot in the door before you do and stops you from closing it. "Listen, Sana I have a lot going on right now and the last thing I want to do right now is talk to you, just go"

You can't bring yourself to make eye contact and Sana sees it, she sees right through you. She's smart like that, she knows you like that. So she pushes herself through the door to enter your apartment because you'll let her. "Oh please, what else would you have going on besides jerking off?" She says it in that arrogant, sarcastic tone of hers. You open your mouth to protest as she walks in but then you close it and instead you exhale a frustrated huff.

"Why's that the first thing that comes to your mind?" You ask, moving to shut the door as you figured you could maybe say some hurtful things to her—get in her head and make her hurt like she made you. So you stand in the middle of your living room, keeping a good distance as you waited for her response.

"Well, you're a man and you haven't fucked in three months. You must be so pent up, baby" She uses that sweet, sultry tone to finish off her sentence, purposely pouting with those perfect lips right when you manage to take a glance at her face.

Fuck

If there was one thing about Sana? She was fucking sexy. The sexiest girl you've been with in your entire life. Now she has bleach blonde hair and you hate to admit it, as a matter of fact you wouldn't ever admit it, but she looked even hotter. It was such a shame, such a waste that her personality was awful. That she couldn't be trusted.

A little after you ended things you wondered what went wrong and you even tried to make sense of why she would do such a thing because you thought everything was going well. The intimacy was there, you saw each other all the time, there was never a day that went by where you didn't tell her you loved her and more importantly, the sex was hot.

You were ultimately perplexed until you had a good friend sit you down, slap you in the face and then explain to you that cheaters will cheat no matter what and that's probably when the hatred started.

If only he could see you now

A chuckle escapes your lips as you take a few steps forwards, tucking your hands in your pockets "What makes you think I haven't fucked in three months?" You give her a look, one thats calm and collected as if you had no care in the world, as if your heart wasn't beating out of your chest right now and this time, you get yourself to look at her. You watch as her cocky relaxed demeanor turned damn near rigid upon registering what you just said.

"But you haven't" Sana says the words in this matter-of-fact tone like she's expecting you to nod your head and confirm, but you don't. You almost laugh out loud, watching a vein nearly pop out of her neck at the mere thought of you with someone else.

Ironic isn't it?

You stay silent to build the tension, feeling a small boost in your confidence now that hers was noticeably shrinking. Now you can tell that her minds working and that's when you know you've struck a nerve. You try not to smile cause she's staring, watching every one of your moves like a hawk as you take a few steps closer to where she's sitting, right up until you're facing her. You manage to ignore her death stare and you only shrug "And if I have?"

That's when you actually get to appreciate her eyes. They're blue--or at least the color of her contacts are--and she's just staring. "Why the fuck are you playing with me?" She asks blatantly, the curse word leaving her mouth so aggressively, so seriously. Then you begin to lose your cool a bit, having a sort of flashback when you first found out about everything and that distinct feeling of betrayal came back.

The fucking entitlement was getting to you.

"You can't seriously be mad right now" You scoff bitterly and you cross your arms.

Sana stands up and you step back "Who?" Is the only word she utters and she's seething, visibly getting angrier the longer you make her wait.

"Sana, I want you out of my apartment. Now, or else I'm calling the cops" That's all you say before you turn around and walk off in the direction of your room, hoping she'd find her own way out.

You think that'll do it, you think that acting like you don't care and alluding to the possibility that you've fucked someone else would've did it for her.

You're wrong, because instead of leaving like you expect her to, Sana follows behind you closely "You mother-fucker, answer my question" You feel her small fingers wrapping around your arm and you wince when her nails nearly pierce the flesh.

You turn around to face her, yanking your arm out of her grip roughly. Then the annoyance on your face goes away and you freeze. Everything goes away because she's so close and her hand has found it's way on your arm again. She's mad at you, that's very obvious but she looks incredible and you notice how soft her hand is. "Who did you fuck? Tell me" She asks it again, more specifically this time.

"Sana-" You try to step back and the moment you do, your back hits the wall--because of course it does--and Sana doesn't miss her chance to corner you.

"Who?"

At this point you're looking into her eyes and you hate how pretty they are—how pretty she is. Then there's that familiar feeling in your belly. It's back, she still gives you butterflies. "I.." You start, and your words fall short almost immediately and just like that the power dynamic has shifted. All she had to do was get close. "No one" You relax your body, not noticing how tense you were until your shoulders dropped.

It's the truth, you haven't been able to do anything with anyone else since the breakup. It wasn't like you couldn't get laid, you had options but the attraction just wasn't there. Not for any other girl.

Her hand loosens on your arm, but she still keeps it there and her eyes sort of soften. "You're such an asshole, fuck" She hits your arm then huffs like she'd been holding a breath forever, stepping back from you to run her hand through her blonde locks.

"Oh really? Now imagine if I actually did fuck someone else? It would've felt really shitty wouldn't it?" You ask, that bitterness still so prominent in your tone. You couldn't help it, the irony of the situation is just too perfect.

Sana just glares at you and crosses her arms. For some reason you still can't bring yourself to move. You're still stuck there. "Will you ever be able to forgive me for that?" She asks and her demeanor stays the same. But you look into her eyes and you can see that she's genuinely asking like she wants you to forgive her, like she recognizes the pain she's put you through and she wants to fix it.

I don't know

"Sana...you fucking cheated on me, I've only been good to you... I just can't... why would you do that to me? How could you do that to me?" You ask the question that's been in the back of your mind for the longest time.

She comes closer and you allow it. You allow her to take your hand in hers as you stare into her eyes, waiting for an explanation, a reason. You need to know if it was your fault, if you could've changed anything, if you could've done something. "I was dumb and I wasn't thinking, baby" Her hand roams, reaching your face and she cups your cheek in her hand.

Shamelessly, you lean into it and it feels so warm, so soft. You hate it, you fucking hate her for doing this to you. The way she calls you baby makes those butterflies come back and you don't know how to feel. "Sana" You sigh and before you're able to say any words she's dropping to her knees in front of you. "What are you..." You start, but the words get caught in your throat when you realize what she's trying to do.

"I should show you how sorry I am" Her fingers hook over the waistband of your sweatpants and you let it happen.

Sana pulls them down, then your boxers go with it and you're soft. "I know you've missed me" She looks up at you as she takes your shaft into her hand. You exhale and look into her eyes but you don't respond to her. It's like you're outside of your own body, watching yourself in third person and you just can't bring yourself to do anything but watch.

Her soft hands are stroking you and it doesn't take long for you to get hard--less than a minute actually. "Sana" you whisper as she holds her fist at your base, then she opens her mouth and sticks her tongue out. When the warm, wet muscle comes into contact with your tip the pleasure overcomes you. "Fuck" your eyes are hooded and your mind's going blank.

You can't think of anything else, not even what she's done to you, nothing but her tongue lapping at your precum. She swirls it around then it's eventually in her mouth and her lips are so soft, pressed up against your shaft. You close your eyes and allow yourself to feel every filthy suck, slurp and lick. The sounds begin to echo in your hallway as everything gets sloppier.

Sana begins twisting her hand around the shaft jerking you at the base while she handles your sensitive head with her mouth. It feels amazing. She wasn't wrong, you missed this so fucking much. Off of pure instinct your hand is in Sana's hair and you're threading your fingers through the silky blonde strands. "That feels so fucking.. good" You bite your lip then take a sharp breath through your nose.

There's an eager humming sound that Sana makes but it's muffled as she continues to stuff you deeper into her mouth. She's going faster now, bobbing her head like she's hungry for you, like she's missed this too.

She moves her hand just so she can have your entire shaft inside and it slides down her throat so easily, no resistance as her lips touch your base. Sana holds it there and her eyes begin to water as she looks at you through her eyelashes then she fucking swallows. Your vision goes blurry for a moment and a guttural moan forces it's way out from your throat.

Then Sana drags back and it slips out of her mouth. She takes a breather, wrapping two hands around your shaft one after the other and she begins to stroke up and down. "I want you to fuck my mouth with this big, thick cock" She leans forward and flicks her tongue on the tip, catching more precum. she takes one hand and massages your balls throughly "Use me, and don't you dare fucking stop until you dump this load down my throat." She squeezes your balls for emphasis.

Your jaw almost drops "Sana" then she prepares herself. She opens wide and tilts her head back slightly. So inviting. Then she allows you to take your cock into your hand and out of hers. You guide the tip into her mouth and push your hips forwards using both of your hands to hold her head in place. It's probably not the best thing to do but you can't control yourself, not when she looks like this. Especially because she's asking for it, offering you her mouth to show you just how sorry she is.

You have to admit, it's one hell of an apology.

"Your mouth is fucking... insane" You grunt as the tight warmth of her throat squeezes your cock. She gags and you let it stay there for a bit, she's struggling now that you're in control but she won't tap out. Not like this. It takes a moment until she's breathing through her nose smoothly and that's when you begin to move your hips.

You pull out, then right back in, almost losing it at the wet sound it makes. You lick your lips then you actually start fucking her mouth, using it just like she told you to.

It feels so incredible that you don't miss a thing. Especially her occasional gag when you accidentally lodge yourself too deep. The sight is one for the books too, she keeps her big eyes open as you use her. What Sana can't say, her eyes will. They're so inviting, telling you to keep going, keep using, keep fucking—everything.

It's so subtle that you barely notice it, but Sana begins to undo the button on her jeans. Then she pulls the zipper down and she circles her clit slowly. She moans softly, eyes squinting as she touches herself while you use her throat. You expected it sooner or later because it's what she usually did when she sucked you off.

"Ah" You moan, feeling the heat build up in the pit of your belly "You have no clue... how ready I am to dump this fucking load in your throat. She only looks at you because she can't even nod her head, your hold is too tight. She moans a little and you try to control your breathing. It's getting erratic and every muscle in your body is burning up. "Yeah, just keep letting me use this... fuck i'm cumming" You give her a warning right before it happens.

You hold her head extra firm as you slide your member all the way in, her nose touching your base as your cock pulses and throbs. You're completely filling her mouth with it, painting the inside white with your hot seed while you grunt through your teeth. The feeling is only extraordinary and pleasureful and when you finally come down, you slide your cock out.

She loses her balance, leaning over as she gasps and chokes and holds herself up with her hand. You allow her to take a second to breath and when she's okay, you watch as she slides the other hand out of her pants and sucks on her fingers. Then Sana gets up on her two feet and pushes you against the wall again, she kisses you harshly then uses her hand to stoke your hard cock "Sir" She uses the term that never fails to drive you crazy, it's the implied authority that gets you "I want you to take this cock and fucking use me until you're done. It's my apology to you"

If you weren't completely blinded by lust, you'd push her off of you and tell her to leave because what she did is unforgivable and she can't just fuck for forgiveness. But her gaze is way to powerful and you're not strong enough to push her away. So instead you nearly growl and grab her wrist to pull her into your bedroom. You fling her forwards and she catches herself on the bed, climbing onto it as you pull your shirt off.

You walk towards the bed and yank her jeans off, then her panties and you motion for her to take her top off as you get into the bed and in between her legs. She's looking at you like she fucking needs it, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth in the sexiest way. As you go to line yourself up, you stop when you remember something. You may have lost your mind but you still have enough sense to reach into your nightstand and grab a condom.

"What's that for?" She gives you a look as she watches you tear the package open with your teeth. You don't answer her, you just continue on to put it on. Once it is, you prod her entrance but Sana pushes on your lower abdomen to stop you. "Y/n" The look in her eye is serious, like it's unfathomable that you're trying to use protection right now.

"Sana"

"Take it off, I don't have anything" She blinks "and you should know that" You can tell she wants to hit you right now, but she refrains from doing so.

"It's not cause of that, I just don't want to make any mistakes" You shrug when you know that there's no true reason other than to punish her. "Now it's either you move your hand or you get the fuck out and you never see me again."

Just like you expect, she moves her hand. "but I can't - it'll be harder for me to.. you know"

"You told me to use you and that's what i'm going to do. I don't give a fuck if you cum or not"

The words sound so coarse leaving your lips and it causes Sana to shut her mouth. Her lips quiver a bit and her eyes start to well up but she holds her glare. You never liked being mean to Sana and quite frankly if you're being real with yourself it's a blatant lie. No matter what you want to have her cumming, creaming and squirting on your cock until she can no longer think.

But you won't let her know that

You slide in and the first thing you feel is this unfamiliar pressure that squeezes around you tightly. It's something you're definitely not used to but you'd bare with it because you have to. Then maybe you'll think about it.

Sana exhales a pleasureful sigh before grabbing you by your arms to pull you in and you lean over her and begin to move your hips. She's so wet and warm, so slippery that you can just glide your cock in and out of her cunt without any resistance. Almost perfect.

There's also this noise that you can hear, it's the obscene sound of her slick coating the latex each time you bottom out in her weeping pussy. You can feel it just enough that it has you biting your lip to stifle your own noises.

She's moaning heavily under you, although she said it'll be harder for her cum you know that she's still feeling the wide stretch that your thick cock faces her with. She's got her eyes closed and her hands clutching onto your arms as she wishes she could feel you bare with each vein scraping against her insides. It's something she's missed, but still something she'd have to earn back.

"Fuck - your cock.. it's so fucking -" A long whine follows and it's like she's completely forgotten whatever she was going to say in an attempt to tell you how good you're fucking her. She clenches and you feel it, almost shuddering when you do. Sana pulls your body down, slowing your movements as she gets her lips on your neck.

She sucks hard and you know she's leaving marks where she shouldn't be, you shouldn't let her but her lips feel too perfect on your body. It's all fucked up and you hate the fact that she's leaving deep red or purple marks on your skin. It tells you many things, one of them being that she still thinks you're hers and that you'll be hers forever.

The thing is, she might be right to think that way because you don't move or flinch. You can't tell if you hate her or love her. "Sana" You murmur, feeling her cunt begin to squeeze you wildly, like it's trying to suck you in deeper. She's stopped the assault on your neck by now and your mouth is right by her ear so she can hear every grunt and moan you let slip. "This pussy feels so fucking perfect wrapping around me" You kiss her cheek and let your jaw hang open, your teeth scrape against the soft skin and you get a taste of the sweat that's built up on her cheek"

"T-The best you've ever had... right?"

You almost lose yourself and say 'yes' but you stop right before. She gets off on that, she always has. So you keep quiet and you quicken your pace. The moment she begins to react to the change in speed is absolutely priceless. Her high pitched moan, her mouth hanging open, the look of pure devastation in her eyes, everything. "Shit - please, please, please"

You hum and she wraps her legs around your waist, ankles pressing into you lower back. "Aw look at you. You're getting so close, Sana" You say it in a smug tone, hot against her ear. "What happened to having a hard time cumming?"

"I'm - I'm - I'm - I - Fuck" She sputters "Don't stop, don't you dare fucking stop" A crackled whisper escapes her lips and you have to bite back a smirk. Does she seriously think she has any power right now? Is what you ask yourself before doing something so villainous, you think she might actually cry or curse you out.

You slip your cock out of her wet heat and the guttural sob that escapes her throat is nothing short of perfection. The raw emotional grief in her voice makes you feel all too powerful and it might make you even more fucked up than she is. "Fuck you!" Her legs loosen around your waist and she kicks her legs at you and you stop her by grabbing her legs, laughing a bit in response. "I fucking hate you" She huffs.

With a smirk on your face, you grab her by the hips and in a swift motion you flip her over. You straddle the backs of her thighs, remembering just how much she loved to be pinned and fucked like this. With her face buried in the sheets and her body being forced through the bed. So you slide your cock past her warm ass cheeks and back into that sopping cunt. "Fuck" She drags out as you push yourself to the hilt, knowing that this angle never failed to fuck her up. "You better fuck me hard, fuck me and make me fucking cum on your cock. I fucking need it"

"Not even a please?" You snicker while you prepare to actually wreck her. Despite her crude language you can tell she's so fucking horny and needy for you. Ready to cum all over your fucking cock and be used until you release your load anywhere you want.

Definitely not inside

"Fuck y-" She can't even curse you right because you've decided to shut her up by completely bottoming out in her cunt. What cuts her insult short is nearly a scream that could probably be heard by everyone on your floor.

You lean over and plant your fists in the mattress for better leverage. It allows you to plow into the soft cushion of her ass so easy, your cock angled perfectly to jab into that spot that can turn her dumb in no time. Her moans go into that higher pitch and you watch as her hands search recklessly for something to grab. The sheets do just the right job.

"Sana..." You grunt "This cunt is fucking creaming for me" You look down, just to see how the condoms been completely painted white with her sticky substance.

Her walls start to convulse and clench erratically and she's right there, just so close to letting herself go. You keep your pace, deciding that you'll be nice and let her cum because this'll be a day she'll remember for years no matter where she ends up, or rather who she'll end up with.

Cause it can't be you, right?

You don't think about it too much, you're focused on the mindless murmuring that you can't even begin to make out because she's doing it with her face pressed into the bed. Her back arches and her ass raises into your thrusts and that's when you know it's happening. "Already sweetheart? we've just switched positions" You snicker and she doesn't even have the brain power to curse at you because she's right fucking there.

Sana gasps and her upper body presses deeper into the mattress while her ass just chases your cock, like she needs it deep forever. "Cumming - I'm fucking - God" She groans and shudders through the remainder of the orgasm. Her entire body is feeling the waves, the shocks, everything as she cums and that's how you just know it was good.

She stops and her body lays flat on the bed again so you begin to move your hips. "Now it's my turn" You grunt as the heat builds up in the pit of your stomach "Where do you want it Sana?" There's nothing she says, she just moans weakly into the sheets "Want my load on your back?" No response "Want it in your mouth?" Nothing "Want it all over that pretty face of yours?" You continue and it's almost as if she doesn't really care where you cum.

Or thats what you think until "Or... do you want me to pull this condom off and fuck my cum deep into this raw cunt" She clenches tight, and you almost lose it right then and there.

"Where... ever - fuck - you want" She does her best to turn her head and look up at you, those eyes telling you that she wants to be bred and claimed by you. But she doesn't say it, it's like she can't bring herself to. Or she just won't.

Either way, you're not giving her what she wants.

It takes you a few more strokes and just a bit of concentration because of the condom but you're just about ready to burst. You think about it for a moment, getting careless and fucking a baby into her. Maybe you'll raise it together, maybe it'll mend your broken relationship. You seriously think about it, knowing that she probably isn't on any birth control and you could actually breed her, right here, right now. This pretty thing thats under you, writhing and moaning would be tied to you forever if you had a kid together.

"Fuck" You gasp as you pull out with swiftness, peeling the condom off before struggling to get to where her face is. Sana opens her mouth weakly and you get your cock into your fist the moment it all happens. You're cumming, almost keeling over when the ectasy hits you like a brick. You look down and it's absolutely covering her, some getting in her mouth. You make sure to pull the rest of it out, smearing the last bit of white on Sana's face.

She swallows what she caught in her mouth and gives you a smile "I hope you take it into consideration, what with my apology and all"

"Take what into consideration"

"Taking me back"

Yeah right, Hell no

Maybe you aren't to be taken serious, maybe no one should ever take you serious because you obviously can't even take yourself serious. It's only been a month since that day with Sana. How the fuck does she keep ending up in your bed, every. fucking. night.

She's like a fucking disease, you can't get rid of her.

You tell her you hate her, she giggles and says she hates you more. You tell her to get out, she stays and you end up fucking. You tell her you don't love her, she kisses you. It's like she knows you're full of shit, like she knows you.

Each day she shows up at your door she proves that theory right.

It's no surprise that you're in love with her, you've come to terms with that recently. But somehow, this new look of hers has really been wrecking you. It's the way she rocks the bleach blonde hair with such confidence. Like she knows whenever she walks into a room, all eyes are on her and they don't stop staring until she isn't present anymore.

She loves the attention and it kills you. You first witnessed it when she convinced you to take her out a week ago. The waiter couldn't keep his eyes off of her and it didn't help that she wore a dress that had her tits practically spilling out. Instead of telling her to cover up, you ended up punching the guy right in his face.

Then you took Sana home and fucked her on your couch cause you were too impatient to make it to the bed. You needed her to know she was yours in that immediate moment.

It wasn't always like that before. When you could actually trust her you couldn't give a fuck about what she wore or how she wore it, cause you knew that nobody else could have her.

Now that that's not so clear anymore, you need to make her aware of it every time.

It's maybe one in the morning and you're fucking her again. You've got her bent over, on her hands and knees in your hallway. Again, you couldn't make it to the bedroom because when you got here you pushed her against the wall and began kissing her. Then you had her pinned as you fucked her into the wall and somehow you both sunk to the floor.

"You've been such a good fucking girl for me lately" You mutter as you bring her to the brink of her next orgasm "Keeping yourself all nice and untouched for me"

"All for you sir.. I'm yours I'm fucking.. yours" There's a shudder in her voice and in no time "I'm gonna fucking - fuck!" She warns, her needy body meeting each one of your thrusts. It's like you've got her addicted to you and she can't help but need your cock deeper inside.

A harsh slap lands on her ass and she yelps "Do it Sana, cum for me" You grunt and it takes a moment for her to get through this one because it hits her like an 18-wheeler. The way she freezes like a deer in headlights then falls apart like she's having a seizure. She's cumming so hard that you think of asking her if she's alright. But she's more than alright, the way she fucks her cunt on your cock tells you that much.

You're not wearing a condom and you know it's stupid and reckless but you went through all of them and when you reached for one, there weren't any left. Sana looked all pouty, telling you that you could always just pull out while also reminding you that she's been good and that she's just so fucking horny and needy for you that nothing else could satisfy her that wasn't your cock going so deep down her cunt that you hit her cervix. Maybe not literally, but you catch the drift.

Anyways the idea of pulling out starts to seem more and more impossible as you allow yourself to enjoy the feel of her velvety walls. The way they squeezed onto you all slick and wet and warm. It felt almost too good. You have to slow down, cause if you keep going at this rate you might...

That's not good

"Gonna cum soon" You announce and you don't even know where. There's only one thought in your mind. Fill her, fill her, fill her. It tells you and your entire body begins to tremble. "Sana, be a good girl and tell me what you want" You hunch your body over hers because if you're going to do this, you need to hear it from her. She presses chest into the floor, now she's face down ass up. She doesn't say anything and you're only getting closer so you fist a handful of those blonde locks. She moans loudly but that's not enough "Say it Sana, or else you're not getting fucked for a month"

You know that'll be just as much torture for you as it is for her but you're hoping to God that of all things she knows about you, she doesn't pick up on that. "Fuck okay! I want you to fucking breed me... need your cum deep in my fucking cunt" She finally breaks and just like that your cock begins pulsing. You loosen your grip on her hair as you use her cunt and fuck your load deeper.

She clenches like she's trying to milk you for absolutely everything you've got "Thank you" She whispers.

"So.. you came in me"

"Yep"

"And all of a sudden you actually want us to try again? No bullshit"

You nod your head, trying to make sense of it all in your own head. You don't know why exactly you're taking her back, nor do you know why you're climbing into bed with her. "All I know is that... despite what you did to me, I still love you. I love fucking you, I love cuddling you and I love waking up next to you" You sigh cause you know it's pathetic and she doesn't deserve it but the way she holds you and runs her fingers through her hair has those butterflies coming back.

Maybe you do know how you allowed Minatozaki Sana to ruin your life

#kpop gg #kpop smut #twice #sana twice #girl group smut #twice sana #minatozaki sana #smut #sana smut #kpop idol #kpop fanfic #fanfic #sana minatozaki

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lexiputellas · 2 months ago

Text

One Slice Away from the broken vows series

You're not sure what wakes you first.

Maybe it’s the faint click of the front door unlocking, a soft metallic sigh you’ve grown used to over the years. Or maybe it's the gentle thud of something being set down on the counter—a cake box, maybe, or the rustling weight of gift bags. Either way, the sound slices through the fog in your brain like sunlight slipping between blinds.

You blink slowly into the muted morning. The sky outside is washed in that cold, overcast blue that always makes everything feel quieter. Softer. You’re still under the covers, half-dressed, a pillow clutched to your chest like it could anchor you here.

But it doesn’t.

The door closes again downstairs. A second of stillness. Then: deliberate, familiar footsteps. A rustle of plastic. The faint rubbery squeak of balloons being shifted.

Dolores.

You sit up, body sluggish and sore in places that have nothing to do with sleep. There’s a stillness in your chest that feels like a bruise trying to settle. You press your palms to your face, drag them down slowly, then throw back the covers.

The hallway is chilly. The floor under your feet cooler than expected. You pad toward the bathroom, brushing your teeth without looking too hard at your reflection. You pull on the soft beige knit set —comfortable, polished enough, the kind of fabric that doesn’t ask questions. You tie your hair up loosely, smear a little concealer under your eyes, press a warm-toned cream blush into your cheeks until you look human again. Or close enough.

Downstairs, the house smells faintly of vanilla frosting and helium. A few party bags sit open on the dining table, the tissue paper sticking out in lavender waves. Dolores is in the kitchen, already moving in that precise, quiet way she has.

She turns when she hears you. Offers you a small, knowing smile.

“Morning,” she says softly, like she doesn’t want to disrupt the quiet that’s still holding everything together.

“Morning.” Your voice is rough. Sleep, maybe. Or just everything else.

“You got everything?” you ask, glancing at the kitchen island, where the cake box sits, half-unwrapped, beside two boxes of balloons and a wrapped present.

“Yeah. Balloons still need a few more breaths.” She looks at you, more directly now. “You okay?”

You nod, too quickly. “Fine.”

She doesn’t press. She just hands you a candle—the gold one Nora picked out two weeks ago, shaped like a star, still in its packaging. You unwrap it quietly and press it into the center of the cake, smoothing the frosting a little where it shifts.

The two of you work in rhythm, like you’ve always done. She folds the paper napkins. You count out the plates. You start stringing up a soft banner across the window that reads Happy Birthday Nora! in glittery script. The sun finally starts to push through the clouds, casting faint shadows across the floor.

Once everything’s in place, you glance toward the staircase.

“I’m gonna go get Iris.”

Dolores nods. “I’ll get the lighter.”

Upstairs, Iris’s room is filled with the soft wheeze of her humidifier. The air smells like lavender and something sweet—her shampoo, maybe. She’s curled in a loose ball, her hair a halo of messy curls on the pillow, one tiny hand resting open by her mouth.

You crouch beside the bed, brushing your fingers across her cheek.

“Hey, baby,” you whisper, voice low. “Time to wake up. It's Nora's birthday.”

She stirs, nose scrunching. “Mmh... cake?”

You smile despite yourself. “Yeah, baby. There’s cake.”

She opens her eyes—barely—and lets you lift her into your arms. Thumb pressing sleepily into your collarbone. Her breath is warm against your neck, and her cheek is soft and hot with sleep. You carry her downstairs slowly, swaying gently, careful with each step.

She doesn’t let go when you settle her into the high chair. You rub her back until she blinks fully awake.

“Stay there, okay? I’ll go get Nora.”

“Kay,” she mumbles, already reaching for a spoon.

Nora’s room is darker. The curtains still drawn, the air a little cooler. She’s a tangle of limbs on the bed—one leg off the side, the blanket wrapped around her shoulders like a cape.

You sit down beside her and smooth a hand down her back.

“Nora,” you whisper, your voice gentler than you expected. “Wake up, birthday girl.”

She groans, burrowing deeper into the pillow. “Too early.”

“I know,” you murmur, nudging her lightly. “But we’ve got a surprise. Come on.”

“What kind of surprise?”

“The good kind,” you say, smiling. “There might be cake involved.”

That earns you a grunt of interest. She cracks one eye open. “You have to carry me.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re nine now. You’re getting too big for that.”

She shrugs, unbothered. “Still your baby.”

You soften. “Always.”

She throws off the blanket and reaches for your hand. You walk down together, her fingers hooked around yours. When she turns the corner into the kitchen and sees the spread—balloons floating gently above the table, the cake waiting with its golden candle—she stops short.

Her face lights up. All sleep forgotten.

“Happy birthday, mi amor,” you whisper into her ear, hugging her from behind.

She smiles. Big. Honest. Her eyes shine, like maybe she still believes in magic. And for a second, so do you.

Then, her voice, smaller now: “Is Mama coming?”

You feel it then—how your heart twists at the quiet in her voice. The hesitance.

You nod slowly. “She’s coming later. She promised.”

Nora nods, eyes fixed on the candle. She swallows hard. Doesn’t say anything else.

You squeeze her shoulder. “Make a wish.”

Dolores has her phone out, filming quietly. Iris claps again, sugar-sticky fingers hitting the table. Nora leans forward. Closes her eyes. Breathes in.

The room stills.

She blows out the candle.

Soft applause fills the kitchen. Iris giggles. You kiss Nora’s cheek and grab a knife for the cake.

“You make a good wish?” you ask, keeping your tone light.

She glances at you. Hesitates.

“I wished Mama got to live here again,” she whispers.

You freeze. The knife still in your hand, hovering above the frosting.

Dolores lowers the phone.

Iris sticks another finger into the cake.

You bend down to meet Nora’s gaze, brush your hand over her back.

“I love you so much,” you whisper, smiling through it.

She nods, like she knows. Like she’s older than nine for a second.

You’re still kneeling beside Nora when the doorbell rings.

Dolores wipes her hands on a paper towel, already halfway to the door. “That must be her.”

You don’t move right away.

Your fingers are still brushing the edge of Nora’s pajamas, your mind snagged on that wish like thread caught on a nail. You feel it—a weight between your ribs. Heavy, quiet.

You smile at her again—gentle, steady—and cut a slice of cake for her and for Iris.

“Go ahead, baby. I’ll be right back.”

When you round the corner toward the door, you hear Dolores’ voice. Polite. A little surprised.

“Oh. You made it early.”

And then—

You see her.

Alba.

Black coat. Hair pulled back in a low, clean bun. A gift bag dangling from one hand, a small paper-wrapped box tucked under her arm. She steps inside like she’s not sure what version of this house she’s walking into.

“Hi,” she says. Simple. Cool.

You blink. “Hi.”

“I would’ve texted,” she says, lifting a shoulder, “but I figured—it’s a birthday, not a war zone.”

You let out a laugh. Quiet. Kind of real.

“You’re safe,” you murmur. “For now.”

Dolores slips away toward the kitchen—probably relieved to leave behind the weight in the air. You close the door behind Alba, smoothing your face. Trying not to let anything show.

She glances around the entryway. “So… how’d you manage to steal Dolores back from her golden retirement family?”

You snort, brushing your hands down your thighs. “Thinking I could do this alone was crazy. I don’t even know how I did it.”

“Yeah,” Alba murmurs, still looking at you. “I don’t either.”

It’s not sharp. Not cruel. Just honest.

That everything is messier than anyone wants to say out loud.

She follows you toward the kitchen, pausing just at the doorway. The smell of frosting and coffee and childhood laughter drifting through.

“She’s nine already?” she asks quietly.

“Nine,” you say, your eyes on Nora—cutting another slice of cake, her tongue poking out in concentration. Iris giggling beside her, stealing frosting with tiny, sticky fingers.

Alba exhales. “Wow.”

She steps into the room then, voice lighter, shifting something in the air as she bends a little and calls out, “Nora! Feliz cumpleaños!”

Nora lights up. “Tía Alba!”

Alba sets the gifts on the counter, lets Nora throw her arms around her. You hang back, just watching.

And for a second—

It almost feels like something close to normal.

But then Alba’s eyes flick to you. Quick. Searching. She doesn’t linger, but she doesn’t need to.

She knows.

She sees how long you’ve been trying to live in the pause between collapse and confession.

She lets Nora go, ruffles Iris’s curls with a soft murmur in Catalan, then moves to the coffee maker like she’s done it a hundred times. Like she never left. Like nothing broke.

You lean against the counter. Arms crossed—not defensive. Just tired.

She doesn’t speak right away. Just watches the girls—Nora leaning into Dolores, Iris laughing, the pink smear of frosting on her nose. All of it soft. All of it good.

“You look like you haven’t been sleeping.”

You don’t answer. Just pour your own coffee. It’s bitter. You drink it anyway.

“I know she cheated,” Alba says, voice low. “But I don’t know anything else. Not really.”

You stare down into the mug. Still. Silent.

“I don’t know how bad it got. I don’t know what she said to you. What you said to her. I don’t even know how long it had been cracking before it finally broke.”

You let out a breath. Not quite a sigh. Just a release.

“She never told me about the other stuff,” Alba adds, finally turning to look at you. “But I can tell… you’re just kind of here. Floating.”

You meet her gaze. Eyes still. Barely blinking.

“I’m not trying to pry,” she says. “But you can’t just sit in the middle of it forever. Letting it all hang in the air like you’re waiting for someone else to decide what happens next.”

Your throat tightens.

“You think I don’t know that?”

Alba shrugs. “I think you know. I just think you’re hoping if you stay quiet long enough, someone else will clean it up for you.”

You glance toward the girls again. Nora feeding Iris a spoonful of cake. Both of them giggling, sugar on their tongues.

“You don’t want to believe she’s not here,” Alba says. “So you don’t move. You don’t tell them anything solid. You’re not lying, but you’re not telling the truth either.”

You press your fingers into the edge of the counter. Something in your chest twisting.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” she says. “I just—someone has to say it. If it’s broken, you either fix it, or you let it go. But don’t float in this halfway place. Don’t make everyone guess what side of the shore you’re standing on.”

You swallow. Look down.

Say nothing.

“I love her,” she says. “She’s my sister. But I love you, too. And I love them.”

She nods toward the girls.

“And they need someone who isn’t just surviving.”

It lands. Right in your chest. Heavy and bright and painful.

“But I’m not going to push you,” she adds softly. “Just… when you’re ready to stop pretending it didn’t happen, I’m here.”

You blink hard. Nod once. Barely.

Alba straightens, exhales, and then says—

“Now. Where’s my cake?”

#barcelona x reader #woso x reader #x reader #alexia putellas x reader

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reasoningdaily · 2 years ago

Text

My former U.S. Track and Field teammate Tori Bowie, who was found dead in her home in Florida on May 2, of complications related to childbirth at 8 months pregnant, was a beautiful runner. She was effortless. At the Rio Olympics, I ran the second leg of the 4 x 100 relay. Tori was the anchor. When she got the baton, I remember thinking, “it’s over.” She just accelerated. When she crossed the finish line, I couldn’t wait to run over to her to celebrate. It was her first, and only, Olympic gold medal.

She also picked up a silver (in the 100-m) and bronze (200-m) in Brazil. The next year, at the 2017 World Championships in London, Tori won the 100-m title, earning the title of “world’s fastest woman.” Tori started out as a long jumper. So seeing her thrive as a sprinter was a huge deal. She was just such a bright light, and people were getting to see that.

Tori grew up in Mississippi and had this huge Southern accent. She didn’t take herself too seriously. You felt this sense of ease when you were around her. I last saw her in early 2021, in San Diego, where she was training. She gave me the biggest hug; something about her spirit was just very, very sweet. I felt her sweetness come over me that day.

Tori was 32 when she died. According to the autopsy, possible complications contributing to Bowie’s death included respiratory distress and eclampsia—seizures brought on by preeclampsia, a high blood pressure disorder that can occur during pregnancy. I developed preeclampsia during my pregnancy with my daughter Camryn, who was born in November 2018. The doctors sent me to the hospital, where I would deliver Camryn during an emergency C-section, at 32 weeks. I was unsure if I was going to make it. If I was ever going to hold my precious daughter.

Like so many Black women, I was unaware of the risks I faced while pregnant. According to the CDC, in 2021 the maternal mortality rate for Black women was 2.6 times the rate for white women. About five days before I gave birth to Camryn, I was having Thanksgiving dinner with my family. I mentioned that my feet were swollen. As we went around the table, the women shared their experiences during pregnancy. My cousin said she also had swollen feet. My mom didn’t. Not once did someone say, ‘oh, well, that’s one of the indicators of preeclampsia.’ None of us knew. When I became pregnant, my doctor didn’t sit me down and tell me, ‘these are things that you should look for in your pregnancy, because you are at a greater risk to experience these complications.’

That needs to change, now, especially in light of Tori’s tragic passing. Awareness is huge. Serena Williams had near-death complications during her pregnancy. Beyoncé developed preeclampsia. I hate that it takes Tori’s situation to put this back on the map and to get people to pay attention to it. But oftentimes, we need that wake-up call.

The medical community must do its part. There are so many stories of women dying who haven’t been heard. Doctors really need to hear the pain of Black women.

Luckily, there’s hope on several fronts. Congress has introduced the Momnibus Act, a package of 13 bills crafted to eliminate racial disparities in maternal health and improve outcomes across the board. California passed Momnibus legislation back in 2021. These laws make critical investments in areas like housing, nutrition, and transportation for underserved communities. Further, several pharmaceutical companies are making advances on early detection and treatment of preeclampsia.

Three gold medalists from that 4 x 100 relay team in Rio set out to become mothers. All three of us—all Black women—had serious complications. Tianna Madison has shared that she went into labor at 26 weeks and entered the hospital “with my medical advance directive AND my will.” Tori passed away. We’re dealing with a Black Maternal Health crisis. Here you have three Olympic champions, and we’re still at risk.

I would love to have another child. That’s something that I know for sure. But will I be here to raise that child? That’s a very real concern. And that’s a terrifying thing. This is America, in 2023, and Black women are dying while giving birth. It’s absurd.

I’m hopeful that things can get better. I’m hopeful that Tori, who stood on the podium at Rio, gold around her neck and sweetness in her soul, won’t die in vain.

—as told to Sean Gregory

#Tori Bowie #Black Lives Matter #Black Mothers Health #Black Maternal Health #Allyson Felix: Tori Bowie Can't Die In Vain #Black Lives of Children Matter #Black Health Matters

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jenosbliss · 5 months ago

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✈️⌇ Beneath the Skies

pairing. flight attendant!reader x captain!jeno | genre. fluff, smut, slight angst | wc. 4k | requested. here | mdni!

warnings. fingering, nipple play, penetrative sex, protected sex (not mentioned but always play safe), lots and lots of kissing and jeno is the greenest flag ever

summary. you and jeno were walking on eggshells around the airline staff, limiting to subtle touches and lingering glances until you sneaked away from the prying eyes. Everything was fine until it wasn't as rumors spread faster than fire.

a/n. guys i love jeno! (ugly crying) anyways if you're uncomfortable with the smut portion you can skip it

The overhead announcement crackled through the cabin speakers, smooth and steady, delivered in a deep voice that always seemed to command attention without even trying.

“This is your captain speaking. We’re beginning our final descent into Osaka. Local time is 7:42 PM, and the weather is clear with a light breeze. We’ll have you on the ground shortly. Thank you for flying with us.”

Jeno’s voice.

You pressed your lips together to suppress a smile as you walked down the aisle of the aircraft, your polished heels clicking softly against the floor. As always, his words sparked a ripple of excitement across the cabin. You could practically see the passengers—and some of the other flight attendants—swooning as they tilted their heads toward the speakers.

“Captain Lee Jeno sounds like he should be in a movie,” whispered one of your colleagues, Sara, as she leaned in close to you near the galley.

You gave her a polite smile, hoping it wasn’t too forced. “Yeah, I guess he has one of those voices.”

One of those voices, and one of those faces. And one of those personalities that made your heart ache with an almost unbearable tenderness every time you thought about him. Which was too often.

Sara sighed dreamily. “Seriously, isn’t it unfair? He’s so good-looking and he’s a pilot. He’s the whole package.”

You glanced down at the tray of drinks you were holding, focusing on steadying your hands. “Yeah,” you said softly, unable to resist the flicker of warmth spreading in your chest. “The whole package.”

Sara didn’t notice the way your lips curved slightly or the way your voice softened. No one did. That was the point.

At work, you and Jeno were just coworkers. You had to be.

The first time you met him, you’d been a bundle of nerves, fumbling with your flight manual on your first day as a flight attendant. He had stopped you in the hallway leading to the crew briefing room, his white captain’s uniform crisp and impossibly neat. His voice had been calm and reassuring as he asked if you needed help, and his smile had been so genuine that your tension had melted away in an instant.

Since then, you and Jeno had become… close. Closer than you ever thought possible.

Somehow, between the endless flights, layovers in strange cities, and the long hours spent together in cramped crew lounges, he had become more than just your captain. He had become your anchor.

When turbulence hit—both in the air and in your life—Jeno was always steady. Always there.

But no one could know.

Not when you worked for an airline that prided itself on professionalism and strict boundaries between coworkers. Not when the rumor mill among the crew could destroy someone’s reputation in a heartbeat.

And so, you kept it quiet. Stolen glances in the cockpit. Soft, lingering touches when no one was looking. Conversations that stretched late into the night during layovers, when the rest of the crew was asleep and it felt like the world was just the two of you.

It was enough. Most of the time.

You stood near the exit as the passengers began filing off the plane, bowing and thanking them with a practiced smile. Jeno stood just a few feet away, his tall frame commanding and composed in his uniform.

You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, even as he greeted the passengers with the same professional smile you wore.

When the last passenger exited, Sara let out a dramatic sigh, leaning against the cabin wall. “Okay, I’m officially done for today. That flight was too long. Who’s up for drinks tonight?”

“I think I’ll pass,” you said quickly, unbuckling the thin scarf around your neck and folding it neatly. You glanced at Jeno out of the corner of your eye. His lips twitched in amusement, but he said nothing.

“Boring,” Sara teased. “You’re always skipping out on crew hangouts. It’s like you have a secret life or something.”

You laughed lightly, brushing off her comment. “Just tired, that’s all.”

It wasn’t a lie. You were tired—tired of pretending you didn’t notice the way your heart raced every time Jeno’s hand accidentally brushed yours, tired of hiding what you really wanted.

Jeno caught your eye as you both stepped off the aircraft, and for a moment, it felt like the world paused. His gaze was soft, full of something unspoken, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

The night in Osaka had started innocently enough.

The hotel room was larger than usual, the soft hum of the air conditioning filling the space as Jeno leaned against the dresser, his arms crossed over his chest. His tie was already loosened, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, and you couldn’t help but notice how unfairly good he looked. Relaxed. Comfortable.

The kind of comfort he only ever showed you.

“You didn’t have to come in here, you know,” he said, though the teasing lilt in his voice gave him away.

You rolled your eyes, sinking onto the edge of the bed as you kicked off your heels. “I wanted to.” That much was true. You weren’t ready to say goodnight to him yet—not after a flight full of stolen glances and moments that had left your chest tight with longing.

Jeno’s smile softened as he walked over to you, kneeling so he was eye level with where you sat on the edge of the bed. “Long day?”

You nodded, letting out a soft sigh as you leaned back on your hands. “Yeah. But this is the best part of it.” He tilted his head, his eyes searching yours. “What is?”

“Being here,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “With you.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavier than they should have been. Jeno’s gaze darkened, his jaw clenching slightly as if he was holding himself back from saying—or doing—something.

“Sometimes I think this is all we’ll ever get,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “These moments when no one’s watching.” Jeno reached out, his fingers brushing against yours in a gesture so light it sent shivers up your spine. “Maybe that’s all we need.”

You shook your head, a wry smile tugging at your lips. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” he said, his voice firm. “If it means I get to be with you, even if it’s just like this… I’ll take it.” Your chest tightened, the weight of his words settling deep in your heart. You reached up, your fingers brushing against his cheek, and he leaned into your touch without hesitation.

“Jeno…”

Whatever you were going to say next was forgotten as he leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours. His breath was warm against your skin, his proximity dizzying.

“You drive me crazy,” he murmured, his voice rough around the edges. “Every single time I see you, all I want to do is—”

He cut himself off, his hand coming up to cup your face, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheekbone. You couldn’t stop yourself from leaning into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut as his forehead pressed more firmly against yours.

“Jeno,” you whispered, your voice trembling. That was all it took.

He closed the distance between you, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was as much a question as it was an answer. It was soft at first, hesitant, like he was afraid to push too far. But when you tilted your head, your hands curling into the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer, the tension between you snapped like a rubber band.

The kiss deepened, growing hungrier, more desperate, as the weight of every unspoken feeling between you spilled over. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer, and you lost yourself in the way he felt—warm, solid, grounding in a way nothing else ever was.

When you finally broke apart, gasping for air, his forehead dropped against yours once again, his breath warm against your skin.

“I meant what I said,” he whispered, his voice unsteady. “I don’t care where we are or who’s watching. All I want is you.”

Your heart felt like it might burst as you reached up to tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him back down for another kiss.

The kiss was passionate as if Jeno tried to convey everything he felt for you through it. His thumb ran over your cheekbone in a soothing manner while his other hand slid under your dress shirt feeling the warmth of your skin under his.

When he broke the kiss, his lips trailed a wet path from the corner of your lips to the base of your neck. His grip on your waist became rough as he pulled you even closer while he kissed over your collarbone slowly as his lips found their way back to yours where he whispered “I need you.”

Your breath hitched slightly when he gently tugged at your shirt and all you could manage was a gentle nod. “You are going to be the death of me.” he whispered against your lips before pulling you into another soft kiss, his fingers undoing the buttons of your shirt with practiced ease.

Everything Jeno did always made your heart flutter. It wasn’t the first time you were being intimate with him, you have lost count on how many times both of you had shared a kiss and it led to this… both of you craving each other but that never stopped him from asking for your permission, even if he knew the answer. He didn’t have to ask but he did and this made you fall for him deeper and deeper.

Soon your clothes were on the carpeted floor, he had guided you to lay down on the mattress as he moved above you, his hands gently moving up and down your sides while his teeth lightly bit down on your neck making you moan. He licked over the same spot and moved to the other side of your neck repeating his actions.

“You’re beautiful.” he said, trailing his lips down to your chest and between your breasts, sucking and gently biting down on the skin there. He loved marking you up not because he wanted to assert his possession over you but he did so that whenever you look at them you can remember how much he wants you, needs you, loves you. He wants you to remember the words he whispers while he is making love to you, remember the nights of passion and just remember him.

His hands moved to where you needed him the most as he licked your nipples before taking them in his mouth making you arch your back. “Jeno” you whimpered, holding onto his bicep. “Fuck you’re so wet” he said running his fingers along your folds as he peppered wet kisses around your breasts.

He pushed one of his fingers between your folds and rubbed over your clit with his thumb all the while sucking on one of your boobs and fondling the other with his free hand. The simultaneous pleasure sent you moaning loudly and as if he sensed your need he added another finger increasing the pace. “Jeno please…” you whimpered, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pushed him further down on your chest.

He let go of your nipple with one final kiss as he whispered “Use your words baby.” looking at you while he continued to move his fingers inside you at an almost relentless pace all the while rubbing at your clit. He knew what you wanted and also how far he could push you. “Tell me what you want.”

“You! I want you please.” you begged, reaching out for his hand. Every constraint he had was slipping by, he intertwined his fingers with yours and brought your hand to place gentle kisses on your knuckles. “Come on my fingers first? I don’t want to hurt you baby.”

With this said he curled his fingers inside you and rubbed at that spot making you throw your head back as your eyes rolled up. He cradled your face with his other hand and kissed down on your neck once again. “Does it feel good?” he asked and you could only manage to moan at the way his fingers were stretching you out. “I am close Jeno” you whimpered.

“Let it go. Come for me baby.” and as if you were waiting for his permission you came on his fingers moaning his name. He continued to move his fingers through your oragasm prolonging it. Fuck you loved sex with him.

“Do you want more? Or we can do it later.” He wiped the sweat on your forehead gently as he placed a lingering kiss over there. “You need a release too” you whispered looking at how hard he was under his boxers. He followed your gaze and chuckled, cupping your face in his hands as he leaned down to softly kiss your lips “Don’t worry about me, tell me what you want.”

Could he make you love him even more? You smiled back and rested your hand over his “I want you Jeno in every way possible. I want everything you’re willing to give me and everything we can be behind these closed doors.” you promised.

The promise held a thousand unsaid words and Jeno took a moment to just gaze in your eyes with the same desperation and helplessness before he kissed you again but this time it was gentler and slow. It was passionate but not quick and rough.

When he carefully and slowly slid inside you his eyes not once left yours, when he brought your intertwined hands to his lips again he closed his eyes to savour the feeling of your skin against his lips. He looked at you with an intensity that made your cheeks burn but you knew he was just memorizing you for all the time he would spend pretending he isn’t in love with you.

“You’re my heaven.” He groaned at the feeling of your warm walls taking him in as he moved, quickening his pace. “Fuck you feel so good.” he pressed his hand over your stomach slowly pushing you over the edge as you arched your back crying out his name.

His thrusts became faster and he wrapped his arms around your thighs pulling you closer, the sound of skin slapping filling the room. “Jeno… I-” you almost screamed at a particular hard thrust. “Does it hurt?” he asked, slowing his pace as he looked down at you concerned. You whined “No no, it feels so good… Please don't stop”

“I just want to make you feel good.” he leaned down to kiss you, drinking up your moans and soft whimpers as he once again increased his speed. His thumb reached down to rub on your clit adding to the pleasure and once again you found yourself close. And Jeno felt it too with the way you clenched around his length or how your grip on his back tightened and he pushed into you with more force and pressure.

You also felt him getting closer with his thrusts becoming erratic and sloppier. He bit down on your lip as he moaned, his fingers digging in your skin. “You are close?” he asked, pulling you closer. “Yes, yes- fuck Jeno” you moaned as he brushed against that spot making you see white. It might have been an involuntary response but the way you squeezed on him in response made him reach his high too and he came undone with a loud groan “Fuck baby… fuck”

He didn’t stop and fucked you both through the orgasms making you writhle under him due to oversensitivity. He smiled seeing you like that under him and slowed down his movements before pulling himself out and lying down next to you. “It was amazing.” He commented, breathing heavily.

You smiled wrapping your arm around his torso as he pulled you closer “It is always amazing with you.” He chuckled his chest rumbling with the sound as he placed a kiss on top of your head. “I am glad.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence comfortable. Jeno reached out instinctively, tucking a strand behind your ear. His eyes studied your face for a moment and he noticed your distant expression.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly. You swallowed hard, looking down at your hand which was playing with his fingers. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because I know you,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “And I can tell when something’s bothering you.” You hesitated, the words caught in your throat. Jeno waited patiently, his dark eyes watching you with a tenderness that made you want to fall apart.

“It’s my family,” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “They don’t… They’ve never really treated me the same as my siblings. No matter what I do, it’s never enough. I’m never enough.”

Jeno’s jaw tightened, and you saw the flash of anger in his eyes—not at you, but for you. “That’s not true,” he said, his voice steady. “You’re more than enough. You’re…” He paused, his brows furrowing as he searched for the right words. “You’re kind and hardworking and amazing at what you do. And anyone who doesn’t see that doesn’t deserve you.”

Your throat tightened, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “Jeno…”

He reached out, his hand moving under your chin to make you look at him. His touch was warm, grounding, and you clung to it like a lifeline.

“You don’t have to be perfect for anyone,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “Not your family, not anyone. Just… be you. That’s all I need.”

And when you ended up tangled together on the bed, his arms wrapped tightly around you, it felt like everything you’d been missing had finally fallen into place.

The next morning had been quiet between you, the comfort of his presence lingering as you shared a knowing smile before slipping out of his room. You’d thought you’d gone unnoticed.

You were wrong.

That morning, you’d heard the first murmurs: how you’d gone into Captain Lee’s room at the end of the night, how you’d been in there for hours.

They didn’t know what had happened. They didn’t need to. The damage was already done.

The rumors… they are subtle at first. Whispers in the break room, sideways glances from coworkers. But it doesn’t take long before you realize the truth: the two of you are the talk of the airline. Someone saw you leave the cockpit together. Someone noticed the way you look at each other during every briefing. And before you know it, the whispers turn into gossip, and the gossip turns into questions. The not-so-subtle questions about how you got your position and whether you’d been “using” Jeno to get ahead.

It hurt more than you expected.

Some of your colleagues, mostly the women, start acting strange around you. The sidelong glances, the not-so-innocent comments—it all builds, the pressure growing heavier by the hour.

“You and Captain Lee,” Sara says with a smirk as she hands you a coffee during a layover. “He’s such a charmer, isn’t he?”

You force a smile, but inside, you’re screaming. You’ve never been good at hiding your emotions, and the constant barrage of questions is slowly starting to crack your resolve.

Another colleague, this time a more direct one, doesn’t hold back. “Is it true? Are you two dating? I mean, it’s not like you can keep a secret around here.”

You feel your face flush, the weight of the question sinking in. “No,” you say quickly, but even you can hear the uncertainty in your voice. “We’re just... friends. Coworkers.”

But as the days pass, the questions don’t stop. And neither does the growing realization that your coworkers have already decided the truth that you slept your way up, and it’s nothing like what you’ve claimed.

The hardest part isn’t the gossip itself—it’s the way you feel when you realize that none of them see you as anything more than an object of their curiosity. The whispers of your coworkers, the rumors spreading like wildfire—it’s too much. It feels like everyone is watching, waiting for you to break.

But Jeno...

Jeno is there.

He’s always there.

You know he’s been feeling the tension too, the way he’s been watching you during flights, how his hand brushes against yours a little longer than necessary when handing you paperwork. You see the glint in his eyes, the quiet understanding of how hard it’s becoming for both of you.

And then, one evening after a particularly grueling flight, when the weight of it all is almost too much to bear, Jeno finds you crying in the staff lounge one day, you couldn’t hide it anymore. “I know what they’re saying,” he says quietly, as if reading your mind.

“Talk to me please, don’t shut me out.” he said, kneeling in front of you and gently tilting your chin up so you had to meet his eyes.

You broke.

“It’s the others,” you admitted, tears streaming down your face. “They think… they think I’m only here because of you. That I’m not good enough to do this on my own and I earned this position by sleeping with you.”

Jeno’s expression darkened, his jaw clenching as he processed your words. “That’s not true,” he said fiercely. “You’re one of the best flight attendants I’ve ever worked with, and you earned your place here. Don’t let them take that away from you.”

His words made something inside you crack wide open. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” you whispered. Jeno’s hands tightened around yours. “Yes, you can. And you’re not alone. I’m here, okay? I’m with you.”

“I hate… hiding,” you said, your voice trembling. “I hate feeling like I have to apologize for being with you. Like I’m doing something wrong.”

Jeno reached out, his hands settling on your shoulders as he pulled you closer. “You’re not doing anything wrong,” he said firmly. “And you don’t have to apologize for anything. Not to me, not to anyone.”

Your throat tightened, and tears pricked at your eyes again as you looked up at him. “But it’s not just me. They’re saying things about you, too. About how you—”

“Stop,” he said gently, his hands sliding down to take yours. “Let them say whatever they want. None of it matters. What matters is us.”

His words wrapped around you like a shield, and for the first time in days, you felt like you could breathe again.

Despite the whispers and the tension, you held your head high. And Jeno was with you every step of the way, his quiet support and unwavering belief in you giving you the strength to keep going.

And when he held your hand during a layover in Paris, walking with you along the Seine as the city lights reflected in the water, it felt like all the pieces of your world were finally falling into place.

“You’re my favorite co-worker,” he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes. You laughed, your cheeks flushing as you leaned into him. “You’re so cheesy.”

“Only for you,” he said, his voice dropping to a soft, serious tone. He stopped walking, turning to face you fully. The city seemed to fade away as he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing gently over your cheeks.

“I love you,” he said, the words spilling out like a promise. “And I don’t care who knows it or what they think of it.” Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you couldn’t speak. But then you smiled, your heart swelling with so much emotion you thought it might burst.

“I love you too,” you whispered.

And when he kissed you, it felt like the beginning of something new—something that was entirely yours. No matter what anyone else thought, no matter what challenges lay ahead, you knew one thing for certain:

With Jeno by your side, the skies were always clear

navigation.

masterlist. nct dream | nct 127 | wayv

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bluetimeombre · 10 months ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐝𝐲𝐩𝐨𝐨L 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐢e

Deadpool and Wolverine but your lady pool and an absolute SLUT for Wolverine.

[this is a complete self insert with just everything I was thinking about during the movie and since then I’ve watched it three times. It gets better every time. Snippets of the movie, will probably do a part two. SPOILERS!]

part two

Warning/disclaimer: femreaderxwolverine, sexual content, sexual language, offensive language, just being a whore the man, cursing, repeat daddy issues, never proof-read.

After digging up Logan and expecting to find a shirtless and oiled-up Hugh Jackman, you were a little more than disappointed to find the bones and metal. 'Damn it! Shit! Fuck! They Les Mis'd him!'

Eventually, you settled down next to the remains, against the same log that had impaled him. 'That was weird,' you chuckled. 'I'm much calmer now. Look, I'm not a woman in stem but you seem incredibly dead to me. Oh, you sexy lump of bones and metal. I would have let you slide them into me any day.'

'But it's good to see you,' you pat his knee. 'I gotta be honest, I've always wanted to ride you, Logan. Oh, whoops, I meant with you. Ha! Who am I kidding, no I didn't. Just you and me, getting into it. And I mean into it. Every style. Doggy. Sixty-nine. On the kitchen counter to the bathroom. Till my back broke. Yea, we'd have been good together.' You ranted, fantasies flying across your mind too quick to focus on one.

With your red-gloved hand, you jerk the chin. 'G'day mate, there's nothing that'll bring me back to life faster than a big bag of Marvel cash. Ha- I hear you, Hugh. But no, no, no, no you had to go and get all noble and die for real. I could really use your help right now. And a massage. Your big manly hands just rubbing all over me-'

Just as you were about to go into further detail about what you want him to do to you, the sound of portals opening and heavy boots stomping closer alerted you.

Quickly, you pulled the skeleton down on top of you.

'There are two hundred and six bones in the body. Two hundred and seven if i'm watching Van Helsing.'

Que the fucking montage.

You have a mission. Find a Logan to take back with you. First up you end up in a bar, catching an axe as it was thrown at you. 'Logan! I'm gonna need you to come with me.'

The Logan sitting at the bar slowly turned to you. 'Who's asking? ' He slipped from the bar stool to reveal a 5'3 Logan.

You coo. 'Well, who's this little ankle biter. Did you stick the landing little guy? Yes you did, comic-accurate short king. Such a cute little Wolvie.'

The little guy started stalking toward you.

'Que the fucking montage.'

You found a Wolverine for the seventies, or eighties, something close enough to that, one hand missing. 'Oh yea, sexy, you have anchor being written all over you.'

You found patch Logan. 'Oh hello, Patch. Should've worn my white suit.'

You found another old man Logan, sitting solemnly on his front porch. 'Howdy! Oh, I see, you're the daddy issues one. Good to see god has answered my prayers. So soldier, do I need to be a bad girl so you put me over your knee, daddy?'

Another was tied to a cross with red bloody skulls acting as a floor.

One was dressed in a tight yellow and brown suit, walking through the woods. 'Hubba hubba. Classic! Now, you fought the Hulk in this suit, right?' as he snicked his claws out, the green of the beast reflected from behind you. 'I am Marvel Jesus you dull creature and I will not be-'

One, your favourite, was working on a bike in a tight white vest and dark pants. You drooled. 'That's the whole goddamn package right there. You know from behind you look a bit- holy Shit!' he turned, and everything about him was Wolverine. Except for the fact he was Henry fucking Cavil. 'The Cavalry has arrived. The prophecy has been fulfilled. Can I say, sir, sorry, daddy- on behalf of all of humanity, this just feels right! We will treat you so much better than those shit fucks down the street!'

He took the cigar from his mouth, stalking to you. You had never been so aroused in your life. 'You were just leaving'

Giggling and twirling your hair, you hold a hand out, ghosting over his chest. 'Can I just, one- one touch. Oh my god! You're like Superman or something.'

He punched you right into the Logan you needed. Thank you Cavil.

'You two gonna fuck or fight?' asked the bartender. 'Both if i'm lucky,' you said.'

'Oh look at those sexy little jammies, that only took twenty fucking years!'

The trash heap was the last place you wanted to end up, but when you woke to Logan looming over you, a snarl on his face, you sighed in relief.

'Well, hello sexiest man alive, 2008. Wanna give me a hand? Or head?'

He sniked his claws out.

'Kinky! That's new for Disney!'

He dug his claws into your ribs and dragged you up with them. 'Where the fuck are we?'

'I dunno, but it looks a bit mad maxxy to me. But that would be IP infringement right?'

'Fucking jokes,' Logan uttered. He threw you over his leg, your back breaking.

'Till my back breaks, Wolvie!' you yelled out, quickly rolling yourself back up and shaking it off. 'Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot. I'm a big fan. How about we strip off our suits, take a tumble in the sand, get to know one another you know. Personally, I'm more of a cowgirl fan but I'm willing to do whatever you want baby.'

'You're unbelievable,' he grumbled. It was still sexy. He turned his back to you.

'Oh, I see, is that what you did when your world went to shit!'

He paused, his head slowly turning to you. 'Say again, bub?'

'Oh, I am so horny right now.'

The two of you engaged in a fight, and not the sexy stradling fight that would happen later, but the guns firing, swords slashing kind of fight. that was only interrupted by a familiar voice.

The only other voice that could have you dropping your panties as quick as Wolverine. He was hooded, hidden, but you knew him from your sex dreams.

'Dear god almighty, it's him.'

'Who?' growled Logan.

'Don't be jealous baby, I have two holes for a reason. Don't worry gorgeous, you're gonna encounter some delicate language, a smidge of ass play but we've been prohibited from using cocaine, at least on page.'

He raised a hand. 'They're coming.'

'Who's they?'

The three of you watch cars and trucks drive through the waste, keeping you trapped. There were familiar faces, Pyro, Toad. And Sabertooth.

The mysterious figure jumped down and mastered the superhero landing that had you clapping your hands and jumping up and down.

'Oh my god! Oh my god!' you held onto Logan's shoulder as you jumped while he just glared at you.

'I've got this,' the man takes down his hood, showing the beautiful, hot, strong, handsome, hubba-hubba worthy, Chris Evans.

'Oh yes, you do sexiest man alive, 2022!' you cheer.

'Stay close,' Chris- or Steve- called back to you.

You stalk over to him. 'Aye aye, Captain.' you wrap your arms around his stomach, fingers trailing over his abs. He removes you and you groan, sulking. You walk back to Wolverine and jump onto the side of his hip.

Instinctively he holds your ass which makes you giddy before he realises his mistake and drops you.

'You're not gonna love what happens next,' shouted the captain.

Your jaw dropped from behind the mask. 'Holy shit, omg! No way, he's gonna say it! He's gonna say it!' you flick one of your swords that was still poking out of Wolverine's chest. 'Avengers-'

'Flame on!' Steve- no, Johnny- yelled and took to the skies in a ball of fire.

It was sort of stupid in hind sight as Pyro lifted a hand and extinguished him, causing him to fall from the skies and go crotch first into a billboard.

'No!' you screamed, rushing to him and rolling onto his back to get a look at him. 'No, no baby, stay with me. Let me take a look!' you tried to pull down his pants but Logan literally pulled you off him.

You were tied up with Wolverine on the front side of you and Johnny on the back. When you woke, you giggled. 'Woah, just like my dreams.'

Johnny woke to, lifting his head from your shoulder. 'How long was I out?'

You smirk under the mask, looking back to him. 'Not all of you was asleep, say Cap, is that a Glock in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?

'Is that Chuck? Hey Chuck, over here! Hope it's you young, god, we got James Macovy in this?' you yelled as a wheelchair rolled out as you entered the thing that was apparently large Paul Rudd.

'Cassandra Nova. Charles's twin,' the villain introduced herself.

'Holy shit,' said Logan.

'How was anal birth?' you asked.

Cassandra smirked. 'You two are cute. I have a good feeling about this.'

'Right!' you cheered. 'Just wait till this ends, the smut is off the charts!'

She took the chain from around the two of you but you wrapped yourself around Logan's arm, he only grunted at you. He only pushed you off when you started to go off and off about what Johnny said about Cassandra. 'People think i'm a shit talker but this guy-' you chef's kiss. 'Next level!'

Cassandra, with a flick of her hand, shed the skin from him as he fell in a heap of bones and blood and skin,

You cried out, holding onto Logan for dear life. 'My favourite Chris!'

'You silly little bitch, you just got him fucking killed!' yelled Logan.

'Fine, spank me then! P.S. Do you know what he was doing to the budget!'

You were brought to Ultimatum with Cassadra, Oliath or the other British villain, but all you wanted was to save your world, bang Wolvy and go home.

'I didn't want it to come to this, either you help us or my boyfriend here is gonna perform the whole of Greatest Showman as a one-man show,' you warn.

'I'm not her boyfriend,' Logan grumbled.

Cassandra went on a trauma dump that had you groaning. 'Couldn't you just turn into accomplishment like the rest of us?'

But I'm not like the rest of you, except maybe the Wolverine, now we could be truly terrifying together.'

'Sorry lady, he's taken!'

'Not for long,' Cassandra smirked and as Logan attacked, she sent him in the ground and away from you. You only whined at his disappearance, a whine that turned into a groan when Cassandra's fingers entered you in the worst way possible. Through your head.

'What can I see here?' she asked. Cassandra gasped. 'Oh, you are a whore.'

Oh yes, she saw the million filthy things you wanted to do to Logan.

The two of you made it out and to the diner where Logan was intent on finding food and taking rubbing alcohol shots. When he sat across from you, chucking a tin of spam at you, you pulled of your mask.

Logan stilled, looking at you with finally something a little different than anger.

'What?' you asked.

'I thought you'd be ugly under there.'

'No- no, that's the Deadpool. I'm better, and a self-insert.'

The two of you took to walking through the rather nicer side of the waste. You had his hand in yours, swinging it happily like you were a couple before he threatened to chop your hand off.

'You said Logan was a hero, what happened?' he asked.

'You died. Technically you were chest fucked by a tree, but really you just ran out of batteries trying to save this girl- a kid really. Always wanted a man who's good with kids. The shit heels who grew her in a lab called her x-23, but she was just a kid. A smaller, cute and mean version of you. Yep, you saved her, very hero, very demure.'

The two of you were interrupted when a bark sounded over the hill and the BEST DOG EVER ran out to you, ears flapping in the wind, tongue out as it always was. The little boots. The collar. It was Dogpool.

You threw off your mask and picked her up, cuddling her close. 'She's coming with us.'

'No she's not!' he argued.

'Yes, she is!'

'No!'

You pulled out your puppy dog eyes and lifted the dog to your face and slowly the resolve in his face slipped.

'Sorry!' another man ran out, chasing after the dog.

'Fucking shit bag!' you cursed.

It was another dead pool, a good-looking one with long hair.

'What's Ryan Reynolds actually doing here, I thought I replaced him?' you said.

'In here everyone calls me Nicepool.'

'Can we have your dog?' you asked immediately.

He laughed. 'over my dead body!'

You nod, thinking about it but Logan holds out his arm before you can even move.

Whatever Nicepool was saying was you didn't care as you cooed and hugged the dog closer and Logan watched.

Fuck, he was paying attention to you.

'Why are you so nice?' you asked eventually.

'It costs nothing to be kind,' he said.

'Shutting the fuck up is also free,' said Logan.

You bite your lip in his direction. 'God I am so attracted to you right now. This is Logan, he's usually shirtless but he's let himself go since the divorce.'

Finally, the Nicepool took you to his ride to get you and Logan and the dog to the borderlands.

It was a honda fucking odyssey.

Logan wasn't willing to listen to your complaints. 'Get in the fucking car.'

'Make me, Daddy,' you said.

He took one step closer to you and you backed away with the dog. 'No, we're running away!'

Logan forced her from your arms and handed him back to the Nicepool.

'The corn was to dense girl!' you called after her, pouting.

Logan shoves you into the passenger seat while he takes the wheel.

You pull of your mask, hair falling around you like you were in an advert. 'So, what shall we do to pass the time...'

Honda Odyssey coming soon, that my friends, is called edging.

#deadpool and wolverine #deadpool #ladypool #dogpool #ryan reynolds #hugh jackman #wolverine #x men #logan howlett #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x fem!reader #wolverine x you #wolverine x reader #chris evans #captain america

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yasministration · 1 month ago

Text

spoken confession - art donaldson

summary: when patrick can't come over to yours with art, the blond boy finally decides to make a move on you. but it seems as though you had the same plans wc: 1.3k cw: making out, dry humping, hand job divider by @anitalenia

Art tries not to be cocky, sitting cross legged on your bedroom floor as he admires you, a beer on the floor between you, torso resting against the edge of your bed. You sit perpendicular to him and your legs are extended on the floor in front of you, just enough so that you can plant your feet on the floor, knees slightly bent as you lean back on your dresser. The both of you sit so close together that Art’s knees brush against your calves.

After years of him and Patrick fighting over you, a secret competition between them over which of them would become your boyfriend, Art finally had an opening. It's rare that you are left alone with one of the two boys, their company usually coming together like a package. But for the first time nearly ever, Patrick had texted on the group chat between the three of you: ‘cant come tonight. if i can itll be wayy later’ and Art plans on taking full advantage of that situation.

Art puts a hand on your leg, caressing your soft skin before running underneath your calf, the other hand resting on your shin as he lifts your leg up, moving it to rest on his own lap. He shuffles closer to you — noticing how your leg barely drapes over his — until his legs are tucked underneath your thigh and your foot hangs over the other side of his legs.

You continue speaking, barely phased by the touch. It’s a common thing in your relationship — with Patrick too. Touching each other is casual, a love language between the three of you, reminding each other of your friendship. Art repeats the movement with your other leg, humming softly in agreement with what you’re saying as he runs a hand up and down the smooth, moisturised skin of your legs.

The clean smell of your soap clings to your skin, barely noticeable under the sweet scent of the body lotion he had watched you lather onto your skin. One of Art’s hands stops to rest just above the curve of your knee, his other protectively placed on your shin.

“What are you thinking about?”

It had been some time since you noticed how Art had stopped asking questions about more details to the story you were telling him, his eyes focusing on where your thighs disappeared underneath your sleep shorts before running down the length of your legs before finally focusing in on your face again.

“You.”

An unabashedly spoken confession.

A teasing smile makes its way onto your face and you tilt your head to the side, hand trailing down to rest atop Art’s hand on your thigh. You trace the prominent veins on his hand, trailing up his forearms, long nails tickling his skin as your fingers hover over him. “What about me?” You pry, making a show of glancing down at his lips, hoping he gets the hint.

It’s not that you don’t love Patrick. You do, just, as an actual friend. But Art? Art has that innocent, shy persona to him; one that lets you appreciate him the more he opens up to you.

“Everything.” He admits, before continuing. “Your legs, your skin, your-your lips.” Licking your lips softly, you chuckle, bracing a hand on the floor to help you push your back off the dresser behind you, leaning forward instead. Art’s gaze is anchored onto you, eyes fixated on your lips, slowly approaching his. You only stop leaning forward when your lips graze his, just barely, but it is enough for a whine to escape him.

Art’s breathing becomes heavier as the tension between you thickens. You bring a hand up to his bicep, squeezing gently, and Art slams his lips onto yours, bringing a squeak out of you. Both his hands fly to your face, steadily holding your jaw, fingers splaying across your cheeks as he relishes the taste of your lips, an aroma of the sweet chapstick you wore.

A hand snakes into Art’s hair, tugging at the blond strands softly, and the boy groans deeply, a hand leaving your face to wrap around your waist strongly, lifting you off the ground and pulling you onto his body. You manoeuvre your legs around so you can straddle Art, lips never separating. Desperately, Art parts his lips, pressing open kisses to your lips until you open your mouth too, tongues immediately tangling in an eager kiss.

Fuck, Art can’t wait to tell Patrick about this.

You gasp softly, feeling Art’s swollen erection through the thin fabric of his boxers. He uncrosses his legs, and you grind down onto him, covered cunt dragging along his cock. One of his hands comes to cradle the back of your head just as you break the kiss for air, pushing back onto him so that your open mouth presses against his. Art bucks his hips up to meet yours just as you roll yours down, both of you moaning at the delicious friction.

“Oh my god, Art.” You cry against his lips as he whines loudly, the high pitched noise echoing in your room. “Can I touch you?” Art doesn’t need any further explanation, nodding eagerly as you pull away to find the hem of his boxers. He inhales sharply when your fingers graze against his lower abdomen, and he lifts his hips up as you drag the material down his thighs, exposing his cock.

Mouth nearly watering, you gape at the view below you. Art's cock is red and leaking at the tip, standing proudly against his pelvis. You bring a hand down to close around the base of his cock, and Art immediately throws his head back on the bed, battling to keep his eyes open so he can watch you. And he’s glad he fights through it, watching as your free hand swipes a thumb over his tip, collecting pre-cum on your finger before bringing it up to your lips. You suck on the pearly liquid and hum in satisfaction before leaning forward and capturing Art’s lips in a kiss.

Art moans loudly when you kiss him, your hand beginning to stroke his cock slowly, up and down. His hands grip your waist with a bruising grip, bringing you forward on his lap so your cunt rests against his cock, your hand sliding between your bodies every time to grip him at the shaft. You pull away from the kiss teasingly as your free hand cups his balls gently, sucking gently on his bottom lip, extracting a loud cry from him.

He whimpers your name, the sound leaving his lips like a forbidden secret. “I’m so close.” Art whispers, his voice shaking as you move your lips to his neck, latching on the skin greedily. “Please.” He begs, watching your hand increase its pace on his cock. A guttural groan leaves his parted lips as he bucks his hips up into your closed fist, eyes tearing up at the intensity as he orgasms, shooting spurts of cum up all over his stanford t-shirt.

He’s panting heavily when you pull away from his neck, peppering kisses all over his face until he forces his lips onto yours, hugging you as close to him as possible. You sigh when he pulls away, looking between your bodies to glance at the mess Art made, and a little giggle leaves your lips.

“Are you kidding me?”

Both you and Art gasp at the sudden third voice in the room, heads snapping towards the door where Patrick stands, arms hopelessly hanging by his sides. Art’s eyes widen, but you just press a kiss to his lips again, tugging his boxers up to make himself decent. You stand up, reaching both your hands out for Art to take. He does, and you help him get up too.

“Sorry, Patrick, make yourself comfortable.” You tell your friend, nodding your head into your room whilst you drag Art in the direction of your ensuite bathroom. “We’ll be two seconds to clean up.”

You end up taking more than two seconds, and Patrick jealously settles on your bed, arms crossed over his chest as he frowns.

taglist: @animalcrossingshameless

#rainydayathogwarts #art donaldson smut #art donaldson #art #art donaldson x reader #art donalson x reader #art donaldson fic #gryffindor #art donaldson blurb #patrick zweig smut #patrick zweig #patrick x reader #patrick zweig x reader #challengers smut #challengers #challengers film #the challengers #challengers movie #yasministration fics

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pukefactory · 29 days ago

Note

Mayhaps I could get some Ena comfort headcannons? Reader has a really rough day and tries to hide it, Ena clocks them immediately and is just "can I interest you in some emotional comfort stock" or. Smth like that shdhshshhsh (i had a rough day, no pressure to write ofc!! Hope you had a better day than I did ❤️)

•☽────✧˖°˖ I JUST SEE YOU ˖°˖✧────☾•

★ Summary: A Compilation Of Comfort Headcanons Featuring Salesperson ENA X Reader

★ Character(s): Salesperson ENA (ENA: Dream BBQ)

★ Genre: Headcanons, SFW

★ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

★ Image Credits: @JoelG

☆ You enter the room and smile. It’s perfectly average, perfectly strained. Your shoulders are stiff with the weight of pretending. ENA doesn’t even look up from the absurdly complicated sandwich she’s building. “Well, that was the fakest grin I’ve ever had the displeasure of witnessing,” she says flatly. Her head turns to you with a tilt. “I’m insulted, honestly. You think I wouldn’t know the rhythm of your real smile by now?” You crack. Just a little. And that’s enough.

☆ ENA practically slides into frame. “May I interest you in our limited-time Emotional Comfort Package?” she chirps, beaming, claws twitching with faux professionalism. “Today’s offerings include: one (1) thoroughly validating rant partner, two (2) ridiculous distractions, and zero (0) obligations to be ‘okay’ right now. All at no cost to you!” You raise an eyebrow. “Free trial?” you ask. “Mm-hm!” she says, clasping your hand. “And I intend to keep you subscribed.”

☆ She wordlessly notices. You’re too quiet. Too composed. When ENA realises you’re hurting, she doesn’t speak. She just sits beside you on the couch like a folded marionette, her eyes soft, her expression oddly serious. And then she says, in her quietest voice, “I know the weather is strange inside your head today.” No platitudes. No fix-it-now. Just her presence, warm and weird, anchoring you to this moment.

☆ You lie on the floor. You’ve declared it your new home. “I’m not getting up,” you mutter. ENA joins you seconds later, limbs splayed like a starfish, hat tipped over one eye. “Excellent,” she says. “We can form a Floor-Based Support Group. Our first topic: everything is terrible, and we’re allowed to say so.” You turn to face her. She’s sticking glow-in-the-dark stickers to the ceiling. “Constellations of catharsis,” she explains. “Each one’s a swear word you didn’t get to say out loud.”

☆ She tries to distract you by holding an impromptu Business Presentation in your bedroom. There’s a crumpled bed sheet used as a projector screen. A plushie is her co-presenter. “According to this graph—” she gestures to a scribble of a smiley face getting gradually un-squiggly, “—you are due for at least one serotonin-related miracle.” She clicks a pen dramatically. “Proposal: I get vaguely edible snacks. You pick a movie. No sad ones. This is a hostile takeover of your bad day.”

☆ “You’re acting like your soul’s buffering,” she comments as you stare blankly at your drink. You blink. “I’m fine.” “Oh, I see,” she says, flipping to her Meanie side. “So, if I shoved my hand into your chest right now, I wouldn’t find a throbbing meat-gem full of stress, anxiety, and mild embarrassment?” “…mild embarrassment?” “From trying to hide it,” she replies with a shrug. “Also, your aura smells like burnt toast.” You laugh. You hate that she’s right. You also love that she noticed.

☆ She wraps a blanket around your shoulders without warning. Then a second one. Then one more. “You are now legally a burrito of sadness,” she declares. “Burritos don’t talk. They rest. They receive affection.” You sigh. “ENA, I can’t feel my arms.” “Excellent. You’ll be forced to accept my comfort without fighting back. Checkmate.”

☆ ENA gives you a coupon. Hand-drawn. It reads: “One (1) unrelenting hour of listening to your vents while I make dramatic nodding faces and offer unnecessary metaphors. Redeemable immediately.” You roll your eyes and mutter, “You’re not that subtle.” “Wasn’t trying to be,” she says, folding her arms with a smug look. “Now talk to me before I start acting out a corporate soap opera about your feelings.”

☆ You try to journal it out, sitting in the corner, eyes unfocused. ENA silently approaches and gently pokes the side of your head. “Permission to audit your sadness logs?” You stare at her. “You want to read my mind?” “No. I want to sit here with you until the fog lifts. And if I have to fight the fog personally—” Meanie flips on “—I’ll put it in a headlock and throw it into a volcano of catharsis.” You giggle. And she leans in close. “I’ll always be here when the fog rolls in.”

☆ When you finally let the dam break, when you mutter that things have been too heavy lately and your throat’s all tight from pretending, she gently, quietly tucks your head into her shoulder. “There we go,” she whispers. “That’s better. Let it out. You’re not a cracked machine. You’re a person. You’re my person.” She rubs your back in slow, awkward circles. “And I don’t want the fixed version. I want you. Frayed, glitchy, brilliant you.”

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bunny-jpeg · 1 year ago

Text

simple woman

simon "ghost" riley

cw: mask kink, dub-con, breeding, bimbo-ish!reader, size difference/kink, choking, finger-fucking, degradation (misogyny), impregnation/pregnancy, minor praise kink, there's a lot happening a word from bunny: like the fic! suggest your own! comments are always welcomed <3

simon just thought you were the sweetest thing to come out the army. he must've thought they were getting desperate by letting a scaredy cat like you in. look at you, you could've even hold a gun steady with your arms shaking! tsk, tsk, tsk. someone like you shouldn't be in a place like this, with all these scary men.

they'd eat you alive and then chew on your bones. they'd lick you in and out like the inside of a crisp package. stay with simon, he'd keep you safe. but safety came with a price. and that price landed you with an extra eight inches inside of you.

he had you alone for the night, away from your barracks and into the single room he had. the privileges of what he did. but a good girl like you had to behave. be good for him.

strong fingers were thrusted in and out of your sweet cunt as he kept another hand of his around your neck to keep you quiet. he wore his mask to conceal his face. even after all this time you saw was his lips and the nasty scar on one side.

"that's a good girl." he said quietly, "i like how you act when i'm three fingers inside of ya. you take me so well."

you whimpered and clutched onto his shoulders. he was just so big compared to you, in every sense of the word. he at least had a head over you and broad enough shoulders that he easily blocked out the sun when he loomed over you. he was strong and domineering.

"that's my girl. you know no one else can have you, right? because if the wrong fucker tried to take you from me. they'd simply end up in pieces in the river."

your nailed dug into the meat of one of his shoulders as you tried to support yourself. you whimpered as he held you still by your throat as he moved his fingers faster in and out of you. you kicked your legs out but he curled around you to keep you close to him.

"stop that, love. i'd hate to have to tie you up and gag you." he squeezed a little and you wheezed. he knew he was in control, he loved the control he had over his little doll.

you squeezed onto him tighter as you tried to take as much air as you could between the moments he relaxed his grip. he dipped his face into your neck as inhaled your sweaty scent, to him it smelt amazing.

"simon." you croaked.

"no, no, girlie. it's lieutenant. and not lt like soap says." he reminded you as he pulled his hand away from your throat and tapped his finger against your nose. he watched you take a deep breath after being deprived of (most) air for some time.

you sputtered and coughed and he continued to fuck you with his calloused fingers. he admired the mark around your neck that he was certain was going to go purple within a few days. he wrapped an arm around around shoulders and pulled you into him as he continued to brutalize your cunt with his fingers.

you panted and moaned into his skin and your nails dug into his shoulders as you tried to leverage yourself. you felt on the knife's edge of pleasure even if it was rough and messy. your toes curled as you panted heavily. the room felt hot and your head felt like a mess.

simon was the only anchor you had to reality. you moaned softly into his strong neck, you could feel the sweat drip down it and onto your nose. it must got hot under the mask.

when you climaxed, your cunt tightened around his fingers. he knew and clamped a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. he watched your tense as he finger-fucked you, then when you relaxed and collapsed onto the bed with you nude body on display for him.

he pulled out his fingers and slipped them under the back to get a taste of your wetness. he groaned to himself before he got your legs off his lap. he got up from the bed and started to undress. you looked at him, your mind was drawn to a blank as you saw the muscle on his body.

he wasn't simply built the way men in superhero movies were. he was like a classic strongman you once saw in a book. you could tell there was heavy muscle, but a layer of thickness over top. it kept him warm in the cold months on base. if he were an animal, it would be like a bear. bulky, intimidating, ready to tear apart whatever victim got in its jaws.

he was scary, you were in love with him.

simon didn't love, he obsessed. his entire life had been stalking, almost hunting for the 'bad guys'. when he worked it was an obsession to track down the likes of terrorists, so it would only make sense that he loved the same way.

he got undressed, but still opted to keep the mask on. you could see his stern dark eyes staring at you as you laid on your stomach on his bed. he could tell you were still out of it, your mind a blur.

"that's a good girl. nice and dumb for me." he chuckled quietly to himself as he approached the bed once more, "no need to think about a damn thing, just how good i make you feel."

"simon, please." you whimpered.

he chuckled as he came over and ruffled your hair, "i know, i know. you're always trying to prove yourself to captain price. but i know what you're capable of. meant to be a good doll for me, maybe instead of being a Sargent, you can become my wife. a better fittin' title for you." he rarely spoke much, but when he was with you and your brain was splatted to the back of your skull, the words came out.

his tongue was filthy, but he saw how you reacted to them. he knew you were a dirty whore, he was just lucky to find you first and keep you all to himself.

he sat down on the edge of the bed and groped your ass. his touches were rough and you tried to back away from him on the bed. but you could never truly escape simon. he was a ghost, he'd find you. so don't go running away, as he always warned you. he wagged his finger at you like you were some kind of child.

but now he was kissing at your neck and gripping your ass with his broad hand. he loved how you felt under him, how he pressed into you. he could crush you so easily, that was why he never understood how you even got into the army. you bruised like a fruit, there were many times he grabbed you and were left purple within a few days.

simon loved the bruises. but only when he did them. he wasn't going to beat you down, you were his doll. but he did enjoy the sight of the splotches of purple and blue on your hips when you undressed for him. he wondered if your fellow soldiers ever gossiped about them.

but that wasn't anything to worry about. soon simon would have his way and you wouldn't even be in the forces. as he moved your hips to be at level with his hard cock, he thought about the nice house he'll get for the both of you.

somewhere he can keep you safe, his hidden treasure. he did want children, he wanted many of them. and you'd give them all to him, he wondered if your folks would be okay if he got you knocked up before the wedding.

the thought made him smile under his mask as he sank down into your pussy, all eight inches slammed into the back of your pussy. you let out a loud moan but he clamped a hand around you mouth to keep you quiet.

"i'm pretty sure." he said, "you don't want the base to know how much of a fuckin' slag you are." he kissed your cheek through the mask harshly, "that's for me to know." then started to thrust in and out of you with on hand around your mouth and the other on your shoulder to guide your body up and down his cock.

the mask up against your hot cheek was overstimulating, the fabric of the balaclava was rough against your skin. your cheeks stung as he thrusted up into you.

the bed squeaked under you two as the headboard hit against the wall gently. simon was lucky that he didn't have any neighbours in that direction.

he was domineering over top of you, he had you under his weight as his cock bullied against your cervix. you gasped and moaned into his hand as you saw stars in your vision. you were such a treat.

he was obsessed with you, he only wanted you. you were everything to him. now he just needed a piece of land and enough security to make sure that no one was going to hurt a single hair on your head. after all it was his duty as the man to make sure his wife was alright.

"you're perfect like this. this is how a woman should be." he remarked, "under me, letting me fuck that sweet cunt. you're a good girl for me. you'll make a good role model for our girls."

you squeaked and your eyes went wide for a moment. but then he slammed against your womb and your eyes rolled back from the intense pleasure. you held onto the bed under you and your back was arched as he fucked your harder.

he was practically fucking you up against the headboard, with your body contorted so he could thrust into you without much abandon. your wet pussy made the most delicious sounds as he used you. it felt so good. it was like you were made for him.

he groaned against you and continued his harsh thrusts. he kept you pinned to him, where you belonged. "pretty girl like you was probably told her entire life that you could be whatever you wanted. but, i know better. meant to be a wife and mother to a good englishman." he chuckled in your ear, "make the queen proud by havin' a few brats with me." he felt your cunt tighten around him which made him groan, "my doll likes that, huh? puttin' a man on top for once. don't worry i ain't no deadbeat. happy wife, happy life." he pulled up his mack a little so he could get the feeling of your heated skin against his lips.

you hated how he talked down to you because you were a woman. you had enough of it in the military. but it stirred something in you that you had little words for. maybe the idea of having a few kids with simon wasn't a bad idea. no more trainings, no more missions. just you and him. even as you tried to shake the thought off, your body responded by clenching around his cock. As to ensure that he stayed right in your pussy.

he dropped your face onto the pillow and held you by the neck. then with his other hand he raised your hips further. he was holding you up as he bruised your pussy with his cock.

"nice little place out in the country. five kids should be enough to keep ya busy. five under four years if we're lucky." he chuckled darkly, "kept woman, that's what you'll be. my lovely wife in her place, as she should be." he chuckled. you couldn't even look behind you to see the face he was making with his mask pulled up every so slightly.

"simon." you whimpered.

"what did i say, doll? you're a lower rank among other things. don't make me punish ya."

"sorry, lieutenant." you squeaked.

"good girl." he continued his harsh thrusts that left the bed moving. your brain felt like mush once more, his words rang in your head like church bells. you were too far gone with him, he was obsessed with you. his claws were in you long before this and there was no escaping it now.

it almost brought a cold fear in you at the idea of taking another lover. if he found out someone touched what was his. you could only imagine the damage he'd do, not only to the man you were with but also you, yourself.

his movements started to stagger, he had less focus and was relying on instinct as he rammed his cock into you. he was getting close to his own climax. your pussy was such a delight around him, you accommodated his large size perfectly. you were a dream.

he gave a few more heavy thrusts before he finished inside of you, "good girl, take me all. that's it. make sure not to spill a drop or i'll have to get find ways to keep in ya next time."

"yes, lieutenant." you moaned into the pillows. you tensed when he started to play with your clit. his fingers were fat but nimble. they rubbed against your sweet spot as you clenched around his still hardened cock.

"i ain't done with you yet, love." he said in your ear as you climaxed around him, "got a couple more loads before i think i've seeded ya enough. you just lie there like a good girl and let me take care of everything."

there was no option to say 'no', you were pinned under him with his cock buried inside of you. you meekly nodded. he chuckled and you shuddered.

you knew it was going to be a long night.

the last name riley wasn't the worst one to have. simon often joked that it could be long like mactavish. it had been three years since you left the military to be his bride.

now you were on your fourth kid, about six months pregnant. you hard a girl and two twin boys. you wanted to keep the gender of baby number four a secret.

he had your legs open, he held onto your thighs as he sank his cock into you. he groaned out loud. the kids were asleep which meant it was time for mama and papa to play.

he placed your legs up against his chest, closed to one side. he then leaned forward and bent your knees as much as the belly would allow. he had you in a press as he bullied his cock into your pussy.

he groaned as he felt the tight heat around his cock. you looked perfect in his eyes, you gave him everything he wanted. you were a fine mama, a good wife to him. he gave a few gentle thrusts as he looked into your eyes.

the mask was long gone, but the look in his eye remained back when you first started to have sex. he was obsessed with you still and every little thing you did.

there was no place you could ever hide from him. he had claimed you inside and out. but it was alright, he intended on keeping you for a long time.

"good girl." he grumbled.

"thank you, lieutenant." <3

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