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diddybok · 1 year

Note

Request: Skz accidentally finding out one of reader’s kinks… could be a drabble or text! <3

oh my god…yes. happy birthday to me😌

18+ below the cut peeps

all characters depicted in my writing are from my own imagination and do NOT in anyway represent nor reflect the people in real life :)

➩pairing: hyung line x gn!reader

➩genre(s): smut

➩warnings: swearing, unprotected sex, kinks: hair pulling, spit, choking, humiliation. penetration (not specified what hole. this one is for all the delulus out there)

➩author’s note: yeah, smut. just nasty smut. mAy have gotten carried away with this. mAy have had some revelations. mAy be chronically down bad for hyunjin after this…and EYE wrote it.

➩part(s): next

chris | hair pulling | 0.9k (955) words

You were laying on the bed next to Chris. You watching the newest installment of the Bridgerton series, and he playing Pokemon Go. Your friends and the boys constantly tease the two of you saying that you act like a couple when really you aren’t. Chris gets annoyed, much more than he likes to admit, at the constant allegation. However, you don’t pay it any mind. If anything you add fuel to the fire.

Ping…ping…ping

You groan loudly and press pause on your show.

“If you could be so kind to turn the ringer on your phone off? I’m trying to watch a sexy scene and your pinging is taking me out the moment!” You say turning your attention to Chris, his eyes still glued to the screen.

He just hums in response but makes no move to flip the switch on the side of his phone.

Ping…ping…ping

He chuckles lowly before swiping the notification up to continue his battle. You crawl over to him and snatch his phone from his hand. It seems you will have to see for yourself just who is blowing up his phone.

“Y/n give it back!” He reaches over to grab the phone but you turn your whole body away from him, laughing as you curl up tightly trying to read the notifications.

“My my my, who is Aaliyah?” You gasp dramatically. “I miss you so much baby, can’t wait ‘til I can see you again, need you bad Channie” You mimic in a high pitched voice.

“Y/n I’m serious just give it back!” He growls. It has now turned into a scramble of sorts. You underneath, curled up in a foetal position. Him, on top as he tries to pry your body open to retrieve his phone.

Chris accidentally releases his grasp on you and in that moment you roll from underneath him. Planning to escape out of his room, you hastily make a move to climb off the bed.

It all happened so quickly. The grab. The noise. The drop of the phone. The awkward silence.

In your attempt to flee, Chris had grabbed you by your hair and yanked you back. You could have wailed, could have screamed, but you did neither. No, what you did was far worse.

You had released a guttural moan.

You. Moaning because Chris pulled your hair.

Neither of you dared to speak, nor look each other in the eyes. You were embarrassed to say the least. Your best friend had just discovered that you have a hair pulling kink. He on the other hand took one too many deep breaths to calm himself. He has never heard you make a noise like that before. Much less because of him.

“I, ahem- your phone. I’m sorry…you can have it back.” You say keeping your eyes glued to his bedsheets as you slide the phone over to his leg.

You go to retract your hand quickly so that you can go get a glass of water to cool yourself down. He grabs your wrist almost instantaneously. Not letting you get far at all.

“Look at me.” He demands. You do as he says, slowly bringing your eyes to meet his. You don’t have to look down at his chest to detect the way it rises and falls heavily.

He gently runs his hand all the way up your arm, an agenda clearly on his mind. You’re frozen in place as you feel his hand creep to the nape of your neck, his fingers spreading wide as they make their way into your hair.

Without warning, he tugs your head back harshly causing another involuntary moan to fall from your lips. A soft gasp is released from Chris, clearly enjoying the way you react to the action.

You guess that’s how you found yourself in this predicament. Knees no doubt bruising as you take Chris’ cock repeatedly down the depths of your throat.

His hand was embedded deeply into your hair, gripping it tight and using it as a leverage to fuck himself into your mouth.

“Fuck~ just like that Y/n. Mm, m’gonna use you as my personal fuck toy. Forget all the other girls I see. Just pull your hair whenever I need you huh? I don’t know why I didn’t think about it earlier.” Chris says more to himself than to you, releasing a small whine.

The picture that this will leave in your mind is sure to be one that will fog your brain for the next couple of months at least. You never really thought about Chris in this way. Perhaps in the beginning stages of your friendship, but it quickly went away when you found out he was a manwhore.

Nothing wrong with that of course, you never had any reason to judge him for it. But god if this is what you were missing. You most definitely would not mind being his personal fuck toy. Platonically of course…

Your eyes are currently watering, as you gag and swallow. Making Chris grip your hair tighter making you moan. That was the breaking point for him as he unloads into your mouth. Not giving you any chance to waste a single drop.

He releases his hold on you, slowly pulling out of your mouth before slapping the tip on your cheek a couple times.

You look up at him, your glossed over eyes making him coo at you as he strokes your head softly.

“I hope your head isn’t too sore yet, ‘cause I’m gonna use it to fuck you back onto my cock, okay?” Chris says with a devilish smile.

Forget the sexy scene on television, you’re currently living in the sexiest one of all!

minho | spit | 0.6k (673) words

You and Minho are getting ready for bed after a long day of camping activities. You’re going back home from Korea tomorrow night so you wanted to spend as much time with your best friend as you could.

Even if that meant agreeing to do whatever he says for the last few days you shared together. Surprisingly, it was a lot of fun. You went fishing and caught a fish. You learnt how to build a campfire from scratch. Went kayaking and almost tipped it over. Let Minho spit in your mouth—

Wait, what?

You shake your head to come back to reality. Minho swirls water around in his mouth before spitting it out into the sink.

He wipes his mouth as he looks up at you, your gaze seemingly transfixed onto his mouth.

He still tastes the toothpaste in his mouth so he leans back over the sink about to spit, but then he looks up at you. Holding your unwavering gaze.

He spits slowly, the saliva descending down into the sink. As it disconnects, he licks his bottom lip smirking at you.

You watched the whole ordeal, obviously. Which explains why you suddenly squeeze your thighs, shifting from one foot to another.

“Either I’m living in a dream right now, or you, Y/n, are simply filthy.”

“Huh?” You say blinking rapidly.

“Huh? Huh?” He mocks, walking over to you.

What is wrong with you? Snap out of it! That is your best friend, you definitely should not be thinking about him spitting in your mouth as you get pounded by his dick.

“I can practically hear your thoughts. That or you’re speaking aloud.” He smirks, now inches away from your face.

It seems you finally regain consciousness as your hands claw at the sheets. Minho pummels you from behind at a relentless pace, making you drool.

You hear him chuckle, his hand falling beneath your chin to catch any saliva before bringing it up to smear on your mouth.

His hand moves to the underside of your jaw, forcing your head back. Your view of him now upside down as he doesn’t slow the pace.

“Are you gonna admit that you’re a filthy little slut who likes spit?” He teases, smiling down at you.

You can only mewl in response, he’s got you going dumb and he certainly enjoys it.

Bringing his hand up to your cheeks, he squeezes gently. Getting you to open your mouth. You do, even going as far to stick your tongue out.

“Oh look how obedient you are.” He spits into your mouth. His hold on your jaw releases as he moves that hand to cup your chest, hoisting you up so your back, though arched, is against his chest.

He fucks up into you. The sound of skin slapping against skin and both of your moans fill the tent. Those other poor people are no doubt just trying to enjoy their family camping trip, and here comes the two of you; unapologetically loud as shit.

“M-Minho…m’close.” You whine. He just chuckles in response, stroking that sweet spot inside of you to push you over the edge.

It isn’t long before you’re quivering on him, your body already becoming limp as your eyes roll into the back of your head reaching that sweet release. Before you can lavish in the feeling, you’re pulled off of him and he guides your head back to his pelvis.

“You’re gonna swallow every last drop I give you m’kay? No spitting this out sweetheart.” Minho says as he moans. Pumping himself faster as he unloads his seed into your mouth which you gladly swallow.

He uses the tip of his cock to smear any remnants of his climax on your lips. He smiles down at you, praising you for doing such a good job whilst also saying how dirty you are.

This will certainly make your relationship with him all the more questionable. Let’s hope it won’t be the only thing that clouds your mind on the flight home!

changbin | choking | 0.8k (898) words

You and Changbin are in the park having a cutesy little picnic. You may or may not have forced him to come with you since your other friends cancelled at the last minute and you had prepared so much. It’s good that you and Changbin are so alike because neither of you like to waste any food.

You have both been snacking on some grapes, when you look down and see there is only one left on the vine. Quickly whilst his attention was elsewhere, you pluck the grape from its vine.

You turn your head as you go to put the grape into your mouth, but a firm hand on your wrist stops you.

“You swear you’re like a ninja.” Changbin laughs as you turn to look at him with squinted eyes. He just shakes his head, his other hand held out awaiting the grape.

You look at his hand, the grape, his hand again and then back up to his face.

“If you think I’m giving you this grape, then you are surely mistaken.” You say, you’re tone curt.

Changbin looks at you, before shaking his head overzealously. You look at him confused.

“Why are you shaking your head at me?”

“Sorely.”

“What?”

“You said surely mistaken. It’s sorely mistaken, doofus.” He says before bursting out into a fit of laughter.

You look momentarily taken aback, a quiet ‘oh’ coming out of your mouth before you look at Changbin’s laughing state.

“For that, I’m taking the grape.” He says, plucking the grape from your hand and putting it in his mouth. He starts to chew it teasingly in your face, closing his eyes as he does so.

Successfully irked, you lunge towards him from your seated position. Unfortunately for your lacklustre skills, he easily manoeuvres you so that your back is against his chest as his bicep and forearm enclose your throat.

He squeezes playfully, well aware that the two of you are in public.

“Nice try, munchkin. You’re gonna have to be faster than that.” Changbin gloats.

You bring your hands up to hold his arm, your hands barely able to enclose his whole forearm. You try to pry his arm off but it’s to no avail as he doesn’t budge.

He squeezes tighter, his mouth moving closer to your ears.

“You know I’m not even trying right?” He teasingly whispers into your ear.

“Bin unhand me.” You plead.

“What, you’ve given up already?”

“If you squeeze my throat any tighter, I am not responsible for the…sounds that will come out of me.” You say tapping his forearm.

Changbin’s eyes widen slightly as he realises what you meant. He releases you and you crawl back to the other side of the picnic blanket, fixing your outfit and your hair, pretending like you didn’t say what you just said.

“You mean to tell me that me choking you was turning you on?” He asks with genuinity.

You turn to him, shrugging a little. The way you act so nonchalant clearly has an effect on him as he tries not to get turned on himself.

It didn’t work, for either of you, as you find yourself in the back of his car sitting on his legs as his fingers pump viciously in and out of you.

“Shh, you gotta be quiet. Don’t want people to start getting suspicious.” Changbin speaks into your ear.

You do your best to be quiet, but you don’t trust yourself so you put a hand over your mouth.

“Fuck you’re gripping my fingers so tight. Mm I can’t wait to ruin you. ‘Cause I’m gonna. Yeah, fuck you clenched when I said that. Want me to ruin you, don’t you my sweet?” Changbin purrs.

Your other hand grips his thigh, the coil within the pit of your stomach starting to tighten. You remove your hand from your mouth as your breath starts to quicken, small whines being released here and there.

“Bin, I can’t hold it.” You whine.

“You don’t have to hold it sweetness. Come for me.” He says his hand going to your neck and pressing on the sides of your throat.

The restriction of air and the squeeze of his hand mixed with his fingers has you seeing stars. Your moan caught in your throat as you orgasm. The lack of air prolongs your release and unfortunately for Changbin, you make a mess all over the backseat of his car.

He smiles as he watches you get lost in the pleasure. He loosens his grip on your neck and relishes in your pants as you try to catch your breath.

“Well I’m going to need to deep clean my car, but it was so worth it.” Changbin says, rubbing you through your high and placing a soft kiss to the side of your head.

You move yourself off of his lap, momentarily looking out the window to see if there were any wanderers that got too curious. Taking a deep breath your eyes meet Changbin’s and he looks at you with a sweet, unwavering smile.

“What’s that look for?…”

“Oh nothing, just thinking about all the places m’gonna fuck you when we get back to mine.” Changbin says, his smile widening even more.

Oh wow, you’re in for a long night ahead of you. Better hope those grapes gave you enough energy for the rest of the day!

hyunjin | humiliation | 1.4k (1446) words

Hyunjin is teaching you part of his dance routine in the studio. You were bored, and teaching somebody helps him to recount the steps.

For the most part, you were able to keep up with him. Picking up the steps with ease until there was a particularly hard move.

You can see the frustration building on Hyunjin’s face as you keep messing up this step. The one he tried to teach you fifteen minutes ago…

“Y/n no. Lift your arm like this, this.” He says demonstrating the correct way to do it.

You copy the motion. You think that you are nailing it and that he is just being too pedantic which explains his elongated sigh.

“Hyunjin, I don't know what you think I’m doing wrong. I’m literally doing it the way you do it!” You say, now getting frustrated at him and his perfectionist ways.

He looks at you through the mirror, scoffing and doing the dance move how you did it. Clearly over-exaggerating the way you did it.

“Does that look right to you? No, it doesn’t. It’s not even a hard step Y/n and you’re struggling to do it.” He says, walking back over to the laptop to replay the song.

This is embarrassing. You should feel embarrassed. Yet you hide a smile. There’s something about the way Hyunjin gets riled up and then proceeds to belittle you for clearly not being a professional dancer like he is.

Ridiculous isn’t it?

“Okay let’s go from the top.” Hyunjin says, counting the both of you in.

The song plays and you both dance to the rhythm. Everything was going swell until you purposefully messed up a move that you know you have no trouble doing.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!”

You wish you could take a mental picture of Hyunjin’s scowl and print it out. He looks at you, almost pitiful as he turns down the music, his hands on his hip as his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek.

“What are you fucking inept or something? What’s going on? You don’t know your left from your rights? Hm? You need me to teach you the alphabet whilst we’re at it?” Hyunjin taunts, now walking towards you.

You say nothing, looking up at him with eyes as innocent as you can get them.

“Cat caught your tongue? Or have you just become so dumb that you can’t even speak anymore?” Hyunjin speaks lowly, backing you into the full length mirror.

He raises a single eyebrow at you, waiting for you to say something. He huffs out a laugh when he realises you’re not going to respond, but rather cower beneath him.

You really are spoiled aren’t you? It seems it is so because you got whatever you wanted from this. One moment he pinned you up against the wall, you shoving your tongue down his throat. Then he was shoving his dick down your throat. And now here you are, on all fours, forced to watch as he thrusts harshly into you from behind.

“This what you needed hm? You just needed to be fucked didn’t you. Naw, dumb baby’s just too stupid to ask for what they want so they decide to piss me off instead huh?” Hyunjin grunts landing a smack on your backside.

You moan embarrassingly loud, jolting forwards slightly as you feel the impact of his hand on your flesh.

The song plays in the background adding to the already sexual tension that is in the dance studio.

Hyunjin stops thrusting, looking at you in the mirror as you stumble a little. The rhythm of thrusts throwing you off as your hips stutter in their movement.

“You’re gonna fuck yourself on my dick to the beat of the song. See if you’re not completely useless. It would be wise not to piss me off further so if you do a good job, maybe I’ll be nice.” Hyunjin says crossing his arms.

You wait to see if he was bluffing, looking back at him only to be met with a raise of his eyebrow. You turn back around, meeting his gaze in the mirror. You tune your ears to the song and start throwing it back to the beat. (y’all why this make me bust out laughing okay sorry continue.)

For the first two counts of eight, you were doing pretty well. Matching each beat with the sound of your bottom colliding with his pelvis. He watches you intently as if it were you dancing. He bites his lip, holding back his own moans.

The chorus of the song comes along and you miss a count. You try to catch up by speeding up your movements, but that just feels too good. Hyunjin tsks at you.

“You can’t even do this correctly. How embarrassing Y/n. Is there anything you can do without my help?” Hyunjin says shaking his head as he grabs both of your arms.

You clench around him at his words, making his tough exterior falter ever so slightly as he curses under his breath at the way you squeeze him so tightly.

He holds your arms like handles as he repeatedly slams you back onto him. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and then close tightly as he reaches deeper, continuously hitting that sweet spot inside.

“You better open your fuckin’ eyes and watch as you take what I give you.” He says, his tongue coming out to wet his lip as he smirks mischievously.

You flutter your eyes open, meeting his gaze in the mirror as your mouth hangs open releasing silent moans. Who knew that being humiliated would turn you on to the point it has? You watch his face contort into concentration. Sweat pouring down his face and falling onto your lower back.

“Hyune, just like that, please. I’m so close.” You whine.

He tilts his head, one of his hands releasing your wrist to reach beneath you and between your thighs, rubbing you quickly.

“Oh yeah? And you think you deserve it?” He teases.

You nod relentlessly, not even caring for his permission as you spasm around him as he lands a particularly powerful thrust.

As he watches you come undone on him he scoffs a laugh, shaking his head before chasing his own release.

“Mm, where’d you want it? Inside? So it drips down your thighs for everyone to see? Ah fuck, yeah I think so.” He says, small whines leaving his throat.

He pushes your body all the way down as he now lays on top of you, rutting into you. He lifts one leg up to ground him so he can reach deeper, the rocking motion overstimulating you as you convulse around him once more. You choke out a sob, tears starting to run down your face.

He catches your expression in the mirror, the tears streaming down and it sends him over the edge. With one final rock, he stills as his cock twitches deep inside of you. Painting your walls white deep inside.

He rests his forehead on the back of your head. Both of you spent as the sounds of heavy breathing and the song fill the room.

He slowly pulls out of you, both of you whining at the loss of the warmth. He rolls you over, placing a kiss to the underside of your jaw.

“Y/n? Are you still with me?” He asks, glancing over your face and down your body. He sees some of his cum trailing out of you and he uses his fingers to push it back in. Fixated on the way your hole envelopes his fingers so accommodatingly.

He only stops when he feels your hand push his chest and he chuckles lightly.

“You know you really don’t take orders well. I think I need to train you.” He says, brushing a stray hair out of your face as you finally open your eyes and look up at him.

He hums softly, admiring you before getting up and sorting himself out so that he is decent to the eyes of the public again.

“Get up. That wasn’t a reward, you’re going to just have to dance with my cum running down your legs now. The quicker you get the choreography, the quicker you’ll get to shower.” Hyunjin says walking over to the laptop and restarting the song.

He leaves you to get yourself up on wobbly arms and you smile to yourself. He should know by now that you most certainly do not put up without a fight.

Hopefully you don’t “accidentally” mess up any more of the moves and make him belittle you again…

ʚ hope you enjoyed ^.^ you can support me by liking, commenting and reblogging! it is heavily appreciated ᵕ̈ ɞ

i do not permit my work to be translated or reposted in any way, thank you.

#stray kids #skz fanfic #skz #stray kids x gn reader #skz x gn reader #stray kids felix #stray kids x reader #stray kids jeongin #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids seungmin #stray kids minho #stray kids han #stray kids changbin #stray kids bang chan #stray kids smut #skz smut #kpop smut #stray kids fanfic

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taurasiluvr · 3 months

Text

how you can help palestine

★ to the public, you and diana taurasi hated one another – you were the new, best young thing in the wnba and she was the seasoned vet – there was no other option. however, maybe that's not the whole story. ★ enemies w/ benefits ft. dt

⠀ ── ⠀warnings ;; nsfw under the cut, mdni. strap-usage, slight degradation and fluff, mommy kink (nothing too crazy), aftercare. might turn into a series if enough people ask for it ;)

⠀ ── ⠀word count ;; 2.6k

the final buzzer sounded, showing the end of a heated game between the phoenix mercury and the las vegas aces. the aces had come out strong and won, the crowd's roar echoed through the arena. the players were a mix of exhausted and exhilarated, their emotions raw and visible. you were standing with your teammates, and you couldn’t resist the chance to bother diana, the vet whose shadow you were often compared to.

as the players began to mingle and exchange the usual post-game pleasantries, you approached taurasi with a sly smile. "tough game, huh?" you say, your voice loud enough for those nearby to hear. the grin on your face was deliberately infuriating.

diana turned to face me, her eyes narrowing. she was still catching her breath, sweat trickling down her face, but her competitive spirit was undiminished. "yeah, well, you win some, you lose some," she replied coolly, but the irritation in her voice was unmistakable.

"guess you’re losing more than winning these days," you continued, the taunt coming easily.

the rivalry between us was well-documented, and the media loved to play it up. they thrived on the narrative of the veteran versus the rising star, and moments like this only fueled the fire.

diana's eyes flashed, and for a moment, you thought she might lash out. instead, she stepped closer, her voice low so only you could hear. "you really want to do this here, now?" she asked, the edge in her tone making it clear she wasn’t in the mood for games.

the intensity in her gaze gave me pause, but you weren't about to back down. "why not? it's not like we’re friends," you shot back, keeping my voice just as quiet but no less pointed.

"oh trust me sweetheart, being your friend is the last thing on my list," she spat as she looked me up and down.

your lips quirked up into a smirk. "good, cause i'd hate to be disappointed."

diana's eyes narrowed further, but there was a spark there, something more than just anger. "really wanna start this now, princess? sure you can handle it,"

the tension between you two was palpable, that neither of you could deny, even if you wanted to. as the crowd began to disperse and the arena started to empty, you both knew how this would end.

you hated that nickname, "princess" – it seemed everyone and their mom liked using the fact that you're a young, rising star to belittle you. not to mention you've gotten quite popular with media, nicknamed the wnba's princess.

however, you wanted to see how far you could push diana.

"see you around, taurasi," you said, turning away with a casual wave. but you didn't get far before you felt her hand gripping your arm, stopping you.

"not so fast," she said, her grip firm. "we're, not done here."

you raised an eyebrow, looking back at her. "oh? got something else to say?"

her eyes held yours, and for a moment, it was as if the rest of the world faded away. "you know where to find me," she said, her voice low and unmistakably suggestive.

later that night, under the cover of darkness, you found yourself outside her house. you knocked, a part of you wondering if this was a terrible idea, but the larger part of you knowing exactly why you were here. the door opened, and there she was, the same fierce determination in her eyes that she had on the court.

"get in here," she said, pulling you inside. the door closed behind you, and the air between you crackled with unresolved tension.

before you could say anything, her lips were on yours, urgent and demanding. you kissed her back with equal fervor, the line between hate and desire blurring rapidly. it was always like this – a collision of raw emotion and physical need.

you pushed her against the wall, your hands tangling in her hair as the kiss deepened. she responded with a growl, her fingers digging into your sides. it was a battle, a struggle for dominance, but that was part of the thrill – and at the end, you both knew who would win.

her hands found your hair, pulling it just enough for you to let out something in between a yelp and a moan. "wanna test me right now, princess?"

you couldn't help but smirk at the challenge in her voice, the nickname "princess" now tinged with a hint of admiration rather than mockery.

"always up for a challenge," you replied breathlessly, your own hands finding their way to her waist, pulling her closer.

diana's lips curved into a wicked smile as she leaned in close, her breath hot against your ear. "good," she murmured, her voice low and husky. "cause i plan on making you remember who you're dealing with."

with that, she kissed you again, fiercely and hungrily, her tongue sliding against yours in a dance of desire and defiance. the air was thick with tension, the room alive with the sound of ragged breaths and quiet moans. clothes were discarded in haste, each move driven by an unspoken challenge to push the other to the edge.

you backed her towards the bed, your hands exploring every inch of her body as if trying to memorize the feel of her beneath your touch. diana responded eagerly, her nails grazing your skin in a way that sent shivers down your spine. it was a clash of wills, a battle of dominance, but in the midst of it all, there was an undeniable attraction that neither of you could deny.

she pushed you on to the bed, you sat down and looked up at the older woman – her slicked-back bun, her slicked-back bun starting to come undone, wisps of hair framing her determined face. there was an intensity in her eyes that made your heart race, a mix of challenge and desire that left you breathless. you watched as she stood over you, her chest rising and falling with each heavy breath, the air between you thick with anticipation.

she gripped your face, pulling it upward so she could fully watch you. "didn't like that attitude earlier princess, do i need fuck some politeness into ya?"

her words sent a shiver down your spine, the mixture of dominance and desire igniting something deep within you – diana always seemed to have that effect on you. "maybe you do," you shot back, your voice trembling with a blend of defiance and arousal.

diana's eyes darkened, a smirk playing on her lips as she leaned in closer, her breath hot against your ear. "again, with that damn tone. didn't i tell you to fix it?"

her voice was a low, dangerous whisper, the threat behind her words only heightening your arousal.

"guess i'm a slow learner," you replied, your voice shaky but filled with a defiant edge.

diana's grip tightened on your face, her nails digging slightly into your skin. "then i'll have to teach you a lesson you won't forget this time, huh princess?"

without warning, she captured your lips in a bruising kiss, her teeth grazing your bottom lip in a way that made you gasp. she pushed you back onto the bed, her body pressing down on yours, her hands pinning your wrists above your head. the weight of her, the strength in her grip, was intoxicating.

"you think you can handle this, princess?" she murmured against your lips, her voice a mix of challenge and desire.

"try me," you shot back, your own voice breathless with need.

diana's smirk widened, her eyes glinting with a predatory gleam. "oh, i will, honey. i will,"

the next few moments were a blur of heated kisses and urgent touches, your bodies moving together in a franticly with need. she moved with a fierce determination, her hands and lips exploring every inch of your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. it was a battle for dominance, each of you pushing and pulling, trying to assert control even as you surrendered to the her touch.

diana got up for a second, a disappointed moan coming out of your lips before she sent you a warning glare. when she came back, she had exactly what you were waiting for – her treasured strap (or as dee liked to call it, her dick).

she moved with a predatory grace, climbing onto the bed and straddling you, her hands pressing you back against the mattress. diana tore at your clothes, the sound of fabric ripping adding to the intensity of the moment as you let out a small whimper.

her hands roamed over your bare skin, her touch alternately rough and tender. she always knew exactly where to touch, where to kiss, to drive you to the brink and pull you back again.

diana leaned down, her lips capturing yours in a searing kiss that left you dizzy. her hands roamed over your body, exploring, claiming, as if trying to assert her dominance. you responded in kind, your fingers digging into her skin, pulling her closer, the need to feel her overwhelming.

"dee," you whimpered as her lips moved to your neck, her teeth grazing your sensitive skin in a way that made you shiver.

her hands gripped your thighs, spreading them apart as she positioned herself between them, her eyes locking onto yours.

diana's smirk widened as she aligned her strap, teasing you for a moment before pushing in slowly. the sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and a slight edge of pain that only heightened your arousal.

"oh fuck, dee." you moaned as one hands moved to your hips, the other quickly found itself on your neck. your eyes fluttered shut, you felt whole again – despite the earlier pain, it felt good now.

"you like that, princess?" her gaze lingered on your face, taking in every expression, every sound, every little thing you did.

she waited for response and when she didn't get any, she gave your neck a squeeze, a moan spilling out of your bruised lips. "y-yes, mommy."

she let out a throaty laugh at that, shaking her head. she wouldn't admit it anyone – except you – but she liked the pet name and the sound of your voice dropped down to her pussy.

"fuck, baby," she rasped out as her head fell back. you gasped, your hands clutching at her shoulders, nails digging in as she began to move.

her thrusts were deliberate, controlled, driving you to the brink and pulling you back again. diana watched you closely, her eyes dark, the connection between you was unyielding. she leaned down, capturing your lips in another searing kiss, swallowing your moans as she continued to move inside you.

the rhythm of her movements was relentless, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. your body responded to her with a need you couldn't control, arching against her, meeting each thrust with desperate urgency. the filthy sounds filled the room, a symphony of gasps, moans, and the slap of skin against skin.

"mommy, please," you whimpered, feeling yourself teetering on the edge of release.

"oh now you wanna be all polite, huh princess?" she growled, her pace quickening, her grip on your hips tightening as she drove you further into a frenzy. "wanna hear you beg."

"please!" you gasped, the word barely more than a whisper as you clung to her, every nerve in your body on fire. "please, mommy, need it."

her eyes flashed with satisfaction, and she leaned in, her breath hot against your ear. "that's more like it," she murmured before increasing her pace, each thrust driving you closer and closer to the brink. "good fuckin' girl," she praised.

when your release finally came, it was explosive, your body arching against hers as waves of pleasure crashed over you. diana didn't let up, riding you through your climax, prolonging the intense sensations until you were completely spent, trembling beneath her.

she finally slowed, her movements becoming gentle as she helped you come down from the high. she pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, her fingers gently tracing patterns on your skin as you caught your breath.

"better?" she asked, her voice softening, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

"mhm," you replied, your voice weak but nonetheless satisfied. you looked up at her, seeing the same mix of satisfaction and maybe a hint of affection in her eyes. "always know how to put me in my place."

diana chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. "and you always know how to push my buttons, sweetheart."

she cleaned you up, a care that contrasted sharply with the intensity of your previous actions. diana's touch was gentle as she wiped the sweat and remnants of your passion from your skin. the intimacy of the act sent a different kind of warmth through you, one that was softer, more enduring.

as she finished, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, her lips lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "you should get some rest," she said, her voice a gentle murmur. "you're leaving early tomorrow,"

you nodded, feeling a mix of exhaustion and contentment. "mmm, you're right."

diana helped you get comfortable, adjusting the pillows and tucking the blanket around you. it was a rare moment of domesticity between you two, a fleeting glimpse of what things could be if circumstances were different.

"will you stay?" you found yourself asking, your voice barely more than a whisper. it was a vulnerable question, one that you weren't sure you wanted to hear the answer to.

if you were at your place, she'd usually leave and if you were at her's, she'd usually sleep in the guest bedroom. however, for some odd reason, tonight felt different.

she hesitated for a moment, her expression softening as she looked at you. "just a little while," she finally said, climbing into bed beside you.

you turned to face her, your bodies fitting together in a way that felt both familiar and comforting. diana wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close, her warmth enveloping you.

"you know this doesn't change anything," she whispered, her breath warm against your ear.

"i know," you replied, your voice equally soft. "but maybe, just for tonight, we can pretend it does."

she didn't respond, but the way she held you, the way her fingers traced soothing patterns on your back, told you that she understood. for now, in the quiet of the early morning, you could both set aside the rivalry, the competition, and just be.

when you awoke, you both lay there for a while, the early morning light casting a soft glow over the room. eventually, you knew you had to leave. as you got dressed, diana watched you, her expression unreadable.

"good luck with the next game," diana said, her tone neutral but her eyes betraying a hint of something more. "i'll be watching it," she added, her voice tinged with amusement (and maybe a bit of mockery).

"me too," you replied with a smile. "try not to get a tech next game,"

she rolled her eyes as she waved you away, pushing the covers over her face. you laughed, getting out of the room and walked toward the door.

and you stepped out into the early morning light, you couldn’t help but smile again. whatever this was – enemies, rivals, lovers – it was yours and diana's alone, a secret game played in the shadows, far from the prying eyes of the public. and for now, that was enough.

if you enjoyed, any interaction is greatly appreciated!

with love, rylin 𝜗𝜚

#diana taurasi #diana taurasi x reader #phoenix mercury #wnba x reader #wnba basketball #wbb #diana taurasi x you #wbb x reader #wbb smut #wnba smut #taurasiluvr writing

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edenesth · 7 months

Text

The Way to His Heart [17]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Warning: eMoTiOnAl DaMaGe

Part 16 | Fic Masterlist | Part 18

How dare he—

Jongho gritted his teeth, his fists tightening at the despicable tactics the fourth prince employed to disrupt your relationship with the general. Usually composed, the assistant struggled to contain his rising anger, feeling an overwhelming urge to resort to violence.

Meanwhile, all Eunsook cared about was your well-being. She empathised with your past, knowing all too well the horrors you endured in your old home. The idea of being married to someone potentially more ruthless than your previous abusers must have been terrifying. Despite understanding the reasons behind her master's actions, she acknowledged his moral ambiguity.

Her only wish was for you to accept that he would never hurt you.

Despite the whirlwind of emotions stirred by the revelation that Seonghwa might have been involved in more than just supervising your father's punishments, your expression remained unreadable. Yeosang held his breath, watching you intently, half-expecting a reaction of terror or betrayal. Whether it was shock, anger, or disbelief, he anticipated something negative.

Desperation clawed at the prince's heart as he clung to his last resort, willing it to work. Foolish as it might seem, the truth was he had no prior experience in wooing anyone, let alone a married woman committed to another. He fumbled in the dark, unsure of the right ways to win your heart, driven only by the conviction that he could be a better husband than General Park.

In his mind, he painted a picture of himself as the ideal partner for you, one who would treat you with the care and affection he believed you deserved. He saw himself as the only one who could truly understand the pain etched into your body, just as you might understand his. And so, he resolved to pursue you relentlessly, even if it meant resorting to drastic measures that could potentially cause you further trauma.

For the fourth prince, the ends justified the means. If it meant having you by his side, it would all be worth it. He vowed to spend the rest of his days showering you with nothing but love and kindness to make up for what he put you through today.

It's time you come to me now, darling.

However, he was in for a rude awakening if he believed you would run into his arms seeking comfort after learning the terrifying truth about the monster your husband turned out to be.

Instead, after a moment of collecting yourself, you lifted your head to meet his eyes, a newfound intensity burning within your gaze, "I'm sorry if this offends you, Your Highness, but what exactly do you hope to achieve by showing and telling me all of this? My husband acted as he did because those people deserved it. As for my father, if you could even call him that, he abused me all my life and killed my mother; he deserved whatever my husband gave him and more."

Though the revelations about the general's potential actions during those extra hours unsettled you, your anger shifted towards Yeosang for bringing them to light in such a manner. Clenching your fists to conceal your trembling hands, you remained resolute. Even if you didn't condone Seonghwa's actions, he was still your husband, and your love for him remained unchanged.

As you stood there, the annoyance toward the fourth prince simmered within you, each word he uttered adding fuel to the fire. From the very beginning, he had refused to acknowledge your new title as Lady Park, a small but significant act of disrespect. Then, he persisted in bringing up topics from your past, despite your obvious discomfort and desire to move on. Now, his deliberate attempts to tarnish the general's image felt almost like a personal attack.

The sarcasm laced in his words when speaking of your husband grated on your nerves. Seonghwa had sacrificed so much for the country, and the least he deserved was respect. It dawned on you now what San had meant about Yeosang's difficult nature. You finally understood why the prince's behaviour could be infuriating.

Jongho and Eunsook exchanged glances, their expressions shifting from concern to awe as they watched you stand your ground against the fourth prince's attempts to undermine your husband. At that moment, it became clear to them that perhaps their worries had been for nothing all along. They should have had more faith in your unwavering love and loyalty to their master.

Yeosang's confidence faltered as he observed your stern expression and heard the firmness in your voice. This was not the reaction he had anticipated from you. Perhaps he had underestimated the depth of your love and loyalty to General Park.

Could the Queen have been right all along?

Feeling a sense of urgency and realising he had no other viable option, His Highness took a deep breath and decided to come clean about his intentions once and for all. He couldn't risk angering you any further than he already had. It was time to be honest, even if it meant facing the consequences of his actions.

The smugness that had once characterised his demeanour now vanished, replaced by a palpable sense of shame as he lowered his head slightly, "I... gosh, I am sorry, my lady. I acknowledge that it was wrong of me to manipulate the situation like that. I'll be honest with you. There was no actual banquet planned. In truth, I haven't celebrated my birthday in years. It only serves as a painful reminder of my existence."

Your brows furrowed in apprehension as you listened, allowing him to continue with his explanation, "I take it you're wondering why I despise my own existence. You're likely unaware of my reputation, unlike others. You may have noticed the birthmark here," he gestured to the red mark on the side of his face, prompting a nod from you.

He offered a faint smile, "Throughout my life, I've been treated like a freak because of this mark. As a member of the royal family, I'm sure you're aware there's an expectation of flawless appearance. So, imagine the shock when they saw the fourth prince with such a conspicuous blemish, my parents included. Both within and beyond the palace walls, people have whispered about my birth, deeming it a curse, questioning if I should have even been born at all."

"Since reaching adulthood, I've rejected numerous marriage proposals. Every woman presented to me has regarded me with disdain in their eyes. But then I met you, my lady, that day in the cherry blossom garden. You were the first person to wear your own mark proudly, without a trace of revulsion. It was as if you saw beyond my appearance. I suppose you could say it was love at first sight for me. I'm in love with you, Miss Jang, and that's why I've brought you here today—to propose to you."

Everything suddenly fell into place.

The puzzle pieces of his behaviour over the past days and weeks finally clicked together, forming a clear picture. Empathy flooded your heart as you realised the depth of his struggles. You knew all too well what it felt like to be singled out, treated like an outsider even by those closest to you, and shown no respect despite your status.

However, you felt a pang of shock upon learning about his feelings for you and his pursuit. It was unexpected, to say the least. You hadn't imagined that he harboured such emotions, especially considering the complexities of your respective situations.

Observing your softened demeanour while listening to the prince's confession, Jongho and Eunsook felt a resurgence of worry. They understood Yeosang's struggles and empathised with his difficult life. Despite that, they couldn't ignore the fact that you were a married woman. Regardless of what His Highness may have gone through, pursuing someone who was already committed was inherently wrong.

The two of them exchanged a concerned glance, silently acknowledging the complexity of the situation. While they sympathised with the prince, they couldn't condone his actions, especially his attempt to come between you and your husband using such underhanded tactics.

Your chaperones would soon find reassurance in your response after a moment of contemplative silence. With a deep inhale, you attempted to offer Yeosang a smile, despite the earlier anger you felt towards him, "Look, Your Highness, I understand the hardships you've endured, and probably continue to endure. I genuinely empathise with you. I'm also truly grateful to have met you. I've never had any friends before, so meeting someone who shares similar interests means a lot to me."

His Highness grinned sadly, "Ah yes, I'm sensing a 'but' there."

With a light chuckle, you nodded, "But it's precisely because I see you as a friend and care about you that I want you to understand that whatever you think you might feel for me isn't love."

He stared at you with wide eyes, but you halted him before he could protest, "Perhaps you've mistaken the feelings of gratitude and joy from finally meeting someone who treats you sincerely for love," You gently explained, "My prince, love doesn't simply happen at first sight like that. It requires much more than that; two people must go through so much together before they truly understand their feelings. I've been through it myself, and I can assure you that what you're feeling is definitely not love."

"Lastly, please address me as Lady Park. I haven't gone by Miss Jang for a while now. While we can remain friends, I must insist that you respect my marriage and abandon any plans you may have. My heart belongs solely to the general, and that won't change."

You sighed at the pleading look in the prince's eyes, understanding that convincing him wouldn't be easy. But you had said your piece, and the rest was up to him to realise. Feeling the onset of a headache from everything, you bowed one final time, saying, "If there's to be no banquet as you've mentioned, we'll be taking our leave then. Thank you for having us today, Your Highness. I wish you happiness."

I'm almost there, my love.

Nearly two days had passed when Seonghwa finally arrived back in the city and approached his own estate. The journey had been one of the most challenging he had ever undertaken. He cursed his injury for slowing him down, as he had to make several stops to rest and change his bandages, mimicking the actions of the medical team soldiers who had tended to him. Despite his urgency to leave camp, he had taken care to pack enough supplies to last the trip back.

Regardless of the constant yearning to be with you again, he felt a twinge of guilt for leaving his army behind abruptly due to such personal matters. If his soldiers knew about his absence, some might consider him irresponsible for his actions.

Shaking his head, he recalled how he used to criticise some of his men distracted by thoughts of their loved ones during battles, viewing them as foolish for letting such distractions affect them. If someone had told him he would act similarly in the future, he wouldn't have believed them for a moment.

The things you do to me, my wife.

The mere thought of seeing and being near you again made his heart flutter. He admitted to himself that he had become one of those fools he once criticised, but he wouldn't change a thing. Experiencing love had shifted his perspective entirely, compelling him to do whatever it took to keep you by his side forever. Having saved you from a life of suffering, he couldn't bear the thought of leaving you alone again. He was determined to be the one to bring you joy, protect you, and stay with you for the rest of your days.

Or... was he really?

His conviction would soon waver as the ominous sensation in the pit of his stomach intensified with each step closer to his home. Alongside it, the pain in his abdomen escalated steadily. What should have been a mere graze now felt like something far more serious. In truth, the discomfort in his insides was becoming unbearable.

Seonghwa gritted his teeth as he clutched the area of his wound one last time, his breath catching in his throat as a sudden wave of pain coursed through him. With a determined exhale, he squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to endure the agony that surged within him.

At the entrance of his estate, the staff responsible for guarding widened their eyes in recognition of their master's arrival. He quickly straightened his posture, putting on a facade of strength to conceal any signs of his injury, "Master, you're back!" One of the staff members exclaimed, their surprise evident as they rushed forward to assist him down from his horse.

Within moments, Jongho emerged from the estate, his expression a mix of concern and relief as he hurried to the general's side, "Sir, I assume you've received my letter?"

Your husband nodded, "I did. His Highness also sent me one, mentioning his intention to propose to your mistress."

The assistant's eyes rounded in surprise, realising the extent of the fourth prince's confidence to openly declare his intentions to pursue you to the general, "Well, he certainly made the attempt."

Seonghwa's steps faltered at this revelation, and he turned to face Jongho, who seemed equally uneasy, "So, it's already happened?"

Nodding, the younger man blinked anxiously, "S-sir, it's not good. The mistress knows," The general felt his blood run cold at that, but he pressed on, "Please, be more specific."

Jongho swallowed hard, bowing his head apologetically, "She learned about the Jang family's punishments and what you've done to the former minister. The prince took us to the palace torture chambers as part of his scheme. While she stood her ground there, she demanded that I tell her everything that happened as soon as we got back."

Suddenly, Seonghwa understood the source of his ominous feeling. He should have known better than to believe he could keep the truth hidden from you forever. Surely, your compassionate heart would struggle to accept what he did. Taking a shaky breath, he asked, "Where is she now?"

"She's in the House of Lotus, sir. She hasn't left since we returned from the palace two days ago. But don't worry, Eunsook has been making sure she eats her meals." Jongho reassured him.

With a nod of gratitude towards the assistant, your husband made his way towards your quarters, passing by the head maid who was taken aback by his sudden appearance. She knew he should have still been at the warzone. However, a quick glance from Jongho conveyed that the master had returned because of their letter. Understanding dawned on her, and she could only hope for the best.

The general's breath hitched as he laid eyes on you again after so long. There you sat in the pavilion, your attention fixed on the lotus pond before you. You appeared just as radiant as the last time he had seen you. However, this time, instead of your usual lady etiquette books laid open, his heart lurched at the reports detailing your father's latest status beside you. These confidential documents, presented to Seonghwa monthly, tracked the former minister's movements. Biting back the wince that threatened to escape him, he ignored the increasing pain in his abdomen and called out your name.

As your head snapped up at the familiar voice, you gasped at the sight of your husband at the entrance of your quarters. Slowly rising from your seat, you cautiously approached him, unsure if this was a hallucination. For so long, you had imagined him here, in this very spot, so many times that you couldn't count. You hoped it was not your mind playing tricks on you again.

This isn't another dream, is it?

You didn't understand why he was back; there was no news about the war being over yet. It's not that you didn't want him here, you just didn't expect him to be here all of a sudden. Standing before him, you felt your eyes water and your heart pound from seeing him again. It took you a moment to process his presence before you whispered, "S-Seonghwa... what are you doing here?" When he did not respond, you noticed his gaze staring past you at the reports Jongho was forced to hand over to you.

Despite the intense urge to pull you into his arms and never let go, all he manages is to harden his expression, "So, I see you've found out." He said, his voice strained.

This wasn't how either of you had imagined your reunion after the tearful goodbye. With a deep sigh, you nodded grimly, your mind flashing with reminders of your family's physical punishments and the gruesome things he'd done to your father, momentarily shattering the loving image in your eyes, "Yes, I did. And if I hadn't, were you planning never to tell me? What happened to not keeping secrets between us, hm?"

Truth be told, you found yourself no longer harbouring anger towards him for this matter. Over the past two days, you'd taken time to reflect, understanding his perspective and somewhat rationalising his actions. While you weren't exactly upset, you simply desired to hear the whole truth from him directly and perhaps receive a plea for forgiveness. In any case, you were prepared to run into his embrace.

Your words to the prince in the palace were sincere. Your heart belonged only to Seonghwa, and that wouldn't change. You firmly believed in the strength of your love, likening it to the resilience of your lotus flowers, enduring despite the obstacles. This situation, you believed, was just one more challenge to overcome together.

But instead of giving you the response you expected, your heart sank at the cold smirk he wore before speaking, "That's right, I never would have told you the truth if it were up to me. You women are so troublesome; it was stupid of me to think I could actually handle one for the rest of my life. Besides, what difference would it have made? This is who I am, and you knew about my reputation from the moment you were promised to me. So, are you really that surprised?"

Crossing his arms over his chest, he turned away from you, adding, "You've seen the reports. Now that you know what I'm capable of, I won't bother hiding anything from you any longer."

His words pierced your heart like daggers, leaving you reeling in disbelief. Shaking your head in denial, you whimpered his name, hoping for some semblance of the man you loved to emerge from behind that cold facade. This wasn't what you wanted from him. You wanted him to fight for you, to reassure you of his love, just as you had done for him. Confusion gnawed at your insides.

Why wasn't he fighting for you?

What was going on?

"Seonghwa, I-I don't understand—"

Before you could finish, he cut you off abruptly, his words laced with finality, "Yes, it was me. I did all those horrible things to your family. That's the kind of monster I am. But now, you're free. Your family is gone, and no one can dictate your choices anymore. You're your own person. You can do whatever you want and love whoever you want. If it's the fourth prince you wish to be with, you have my blessing. Maybe he's the one who can give you the companionship you desire."

With that, he turned and stormed out of your quarters, leaving you alone and bewildered, with no assurance of his return.

Once out of your sight, he released a shaky breath and clutched his wound, feeling the fabric already soaked with blood seeping through his bandage. Despite his blurring vision, he stumbled through the estate, desperate to depart before anyone noticed his condition. Seonghwa wasn't oblivious; he knew he must have been poisoned when the pain of his injury became too unbearable.

With a sinking feeling, he realised he didn't have much time left, and perhaps Prince Yeosang was right. Maybe what you truly needed was a husband who would consistently stay by your side and not cause you the worry he did.

I'm sorry, my love. This is for the best.

« Preview of Part 18 »

"Physician Jung, there's a letter for you."

Yunho furrowed his brows, pausing his work on his latest concoction aimed at alleviating all of your scars. Despite the challenges he faced in this endeavour, he remained steadfast in his commitment to helping you restore your skin to its original state.

Setting aside the herbs he was working with, he approached the entrance of his quarters to accept the letter from Jongho, "For me?"

The younger man nodded in confirmation, "Yes, oddly enough, it arrived via a military messenger. Initially, I assumed it was intended for the general, but it's specifically addressed to you. General Officer Song requests your urgent attention."

Blinking, the doctor processed the information, "Wait, do you mean General Park has returned to the estate?"

Jongho smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck, "Oh, yeah. He arrived unannounced just a while ago, thanks to our letter. I suppose the situation at the warzone must have calmed down if he's able to return so quickly. He's with the mistress now. Let's hope things will improve with him here."

Relieved, Yunho nodded and quickly unfolded the letter. His stomach dropped, and his eyes widened at the hastily scribbled words, "H-he's with the mistress, you say?"

"Yes, what about it?" The assistant furrowed his brows in confusion as he watched Yunho shove the letter back into his hands before bolting out. Reading the letter himself, he soon found himself rushing in the same direction, dread filling his being.

No, this can't be.

I was so excited that I got to writing this as soon as I completed all the assignments for the first half of my semester! Only three parts until the end of this story, how we feeling out there?🤧

Holy crap, thank you so much for 1.4k followers! As always, thank you so much for reading and please let me know your thoughts! <3

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#edenesth #the way to this heart #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #arranged marriage au #joseon era #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez fic #historical au

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bitchiswild · 7 months

Text

Baby Fever

SUBBY G!P Kazuha x F! Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: breeding kink, creampie, tummy bulge, etc.

A/n: Another subby gp kazuha ☝️

REQUESTED

"G-God, Y/n," Kazuha whimpered, her voice trembling with need as your warm cunt enveloped her, sending a surge of desire coursing through her veins. Every touch, every sensation, fueled the fire burning deep within her, making her a quivering mess. As you straddled her, her body trembled beneath yours, her cock red and angry, pulsating with urgency.

Before you could fully take her cock inside you, Kazuha's body betrayed her, spurting her warm cum relentlessly inside you. "You're already cumming?" you asked with a tsk. "I-Im sorry," Kazuha whimpered, her face flushed with embarrassment as she covered it with her hands. Sensing her distress, you gently pulled her hands away, guiding her hands back to your body.

Taking the rest of her cock inside you, your warm cunt welcomed her completely. The sensation caused Kazuha to groan, a mixture of pleasure and surprise flooding her senses. You rode her with a fervor that left her breathless, your movements driving her to the edge of sanity. Each bounce elicited a whimper from her lips, a desperate plea for more as you took her deeper and deeper. The sound of your skin slapping together filled the room echoed in her ears.

Kazuha’s thighs trembled with every thrust, her body aching with the need for release. She was a mess, lost in the overwhelming pleasure that consumed her. And as she surrendered herself to you completely, her whimpers became cries of ecstasy, a testament to the pleasure that you brought.

As Kazuha's body trembled beneath you, her moans growing louder with each thrust, you felt a surge of power coursing through your veins. With a wicked grin, you leaned in close, your lips brushing against her ear as you whispered in a sultry voice, "You like that, Kazuha? You like how I make you feel?"

Her breath hitched at your words, her body responding eagerly to your touch. With each dirty word that fell from your lips, she became more and more undone, her whimpering growing louder as she surrendered herself to you completely. “O-oh my g-god” She groaned.

"You're such a needy little slut, aren't you?" you teased, your fingers trailing along her trembling skin. "You can't get enough of me, can you? Begging for more like the desperate whore you are."

Her moans turned into desperate pleas, her body arching against yours as she chased her release. And as you continued to drive her to the brink of ecstasy, your dirty talk fueling her desire, she became a whimpering mess, lost in the overwhelming pleasure that you brought her.

With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you leaned in close to Kazuha, your hand sliding up to grip her neck with just enough pressure to send a shiver down her spine. As you continued to ride her, your hips grinding against hers with increasing urgency, you whispered in a husky voice, "Who's cock is this, Kazuha? Tell me."

Her breath caught in her throat as your words sent a jolt of electricity coursing through her body. She looked up at you with wide eyes, her lips parting in a silent gasp as she struggled to form a coherent response amidst the overwhelming pleasure.

"I-It's... it's y-yours," she finally managed to whimper, her voice barely above a whisper as she surrendered herself to you completely. "It's yours, Y/n. A-All y-yours."

A satisfied smirk played across your lips as you tighten your grip on her neck, a silent affirmation of your dominance over her. With each thrust, you claimed her as your own, driving her to new heights of pleasure as she surrendered herself to you completely. And as you continued to pound into her, your dirty talk fueling her desire, she became putty in your hands, a whimpering mess lost in the overwhelming ecstasy of your touch.

"S-shit, I'm gonna cum again," Kazuha whimpered, her voice strained with pleasure as her body began to tremble. With each pulse of ecstasy, she released herself inside you once more, her moans mixing with the rhythm of your shared desire.

You gripped her neck firmly, a possessive hold that sent a shiver down her spine. "Who told you, you could cum, hmm?" you demanded, your voice laced with authority. "I-I..." she stammered, her breath hitching as you interrupted her. "No, you cum when I tell you to," you told her firmly, your grip tightening as you rode her harder, the bed banging against the wall with each thrust.

"It's t-too much," Kazuha cried out, her hands gripping your thighs in desperation. "That's what you get for cumming too early, baby," you scolded her, your voice a mix of pleasure and admonishment. "Y/n, please," she begged, tears streaming down her face as the overstimulation threatened to overwhelm her. She tried to push you off, but she was too weak from her second orgasm.

"You know the safe word, baby," you reminded her, your pussy clenching around her cock as you neared your own release. The veins of her cock rubbed against your walls deliciously, her tip pounding against your cervix with each thrust.

"I want you to put a baby in me, fill me up with your cum until I'm pregnant," you moaned, your voice filled with longing as you rode her relentlessly. "Y-yes, let me put a baby inside you, p-please," Kazuha whimpered, her voice strained with desire.

"Cum with me, baby, cum inside me, put a baby in me," you moaned as your orgasm crashed over you, your body trembling with pleasure. Kazuha's body went stiff with the intensity of her own climax, the overstimulation pushing her to her limits. She came so much that your stomach started to budge slightly.

You collapsed onto the bed beside Kazuha, both of you breathing heavily, sweat glistening on your skin like dewdrops in the aftermath of a storm. The air was thick with the heady scent of sex, and the room seemed to pulse with the lingering echoes of your shared ecstasy.

"You think it worked?" Kazuha whispered, her voice barely above a breath as she pulled you close to her, her fingers tracing gentle circles on your belly, which was now swollen with her warm cum. The two of you had been trying for a baby for a while, and now, in this moment of intimacy, the possibility felt closer than ever.

"I'm pretty sure it did," you told her with a hopeful smile, your heart fluttering with anticipation at the thought of starting a family with the woman you loved more than anything in the world.

"I can't wait to start a family with you," Kazuha whispered, her voice filled with love and longing as she pulled you into a tender kiss.

#bitchiswild #BIW.WRITES #nakamura kazuha #kazuha x female reader #kazuha x reader #le sserafim kazuha smut #le sserafim kazuha #lesserafim kazuha #kazuha smut #kazuha x reader smut #kazuha nakamura #lesserafim x fem reader #lesserafim fluff #lesserafim x reader #lesserafim smut #lesserafim imagines #le sserafim smut #le sserafim

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hsakuras · 1 year

Text

𝑮𝑨𝒁𝑬 | 𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑨

warnings: dubcon, stalking, yandere childe, alcohol consumption, facial, blow job, fem reader, degradation, cum eating(?), snowballing, breath play

wc: 4.1k

a/n: im baaaaack, also this is for @jozhenji ily bitch mwah

You hate Snezhnaya.

The cold that bites at your cheeks, the way your bones ache if you stand outside too long, and how blinding the snow can be on the days where the sun is the brightest. You hate holding onto candle light to maneuver your way down the hallway of your house, only to hear talk of the Fatui growing in size and manipulating more people into joining under the harbingers from the neighbors that stop by to chat in front of your door late at night.

“They each have their own agenda.” One of them says, as if that’s supposed to justify their actions, like they’re not all connected in some way.

“Did you hear Ajax got into another fight?”

“Again?”

You hate him. Ajax. You hate how he always needs to be the center of attention.

You hate his laughter, his gaze, the way he starts fight after fight and how he doesn’t care if his father cries or threatens to send him to the military. You hate how he knows so much, how he thrives off of the adrenaline that runs through his veins when he knows he’s won, when he can taste it, feel it in his hands and configure it so that it adds fuel to the fire burning brightest in his chest. It’s the one of the only times his smile reaches his eyes.

You hate that it’s the same smile when he looks at you. When he thinks that he can barge in on your walks to get firewood, or when he finds one of your siblings and walks them home. He only wanted to make sure they would get home safe, he swears.

If Ajax could put his pride on a pedestal, he would. He would bellow in letting people watch as it grows and swallows everything in its path to take up more space, thriving on the marvel painted on people’s faces who pass, who watch as he leaves the small village of your hometown to join the Fatui. It shouldn’t have come as a shock when he was recognized because of his ability to fight.

You think about the time that he went missing for three days causing a search party that grew so rapidly in size because his father is a respectable man, it hurt to see how little he slept. It hurt your community to see him attempt to console his other children.

It hurt even more when you were the one Ajax showed up in front of first.

You were looking out to the horizon, the firewood that had been collected by your side, stopping to enjoy the hot stew you had prepared for your siblings in the thermos that had been carefully wrapped to protect it from the bitter temperatures. It wasn’t exactly as hot as you expected but you welcomed the few seconds of warmth brought to your lips. It’s comforting and while looking out to the horizon, you make a silent promise to yourself to move to a nation that is always sunny, where the winds are warm, and the waters are blue. Something that would help your soul feel weightless in contrast to your current surroundings.

When the forest is covered in snow you can hear everything, the branches that fall under the weight of the ice, the crunching of footsteps when someone passes by, and even the curses of the men who were fetching more wood for their wives; tired, exhausted, and numb.

That day he came back, you didn’t expect to hear him, much less see him.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” You knew his voice, whipping your head around so fast because you never heard his footsteps approaching. His nose was bleeding, staining his mouth and shirt. “It’s nothing compared to you.” He smiled after wiping the blood off his nose and mouth with his sleeve, watching you in awe of how relieved you must have been when he showed himself to you.

He stumbles forward a little, laughs, “Hey, I lov-I’ve loved you from the moment we met.”

You’re the last thing he sees before he blacks out.

Years have passed since then. You watch when Teucer and Tonia come running by with their new toys, how much easier it gets for his father to take care of himself when he’s promised that Ajax is okay and the financial hardship doesn’t consume his very being. It’s hard not to smile when Teucer looks up at you with a toothy grin, begging you to play with him again.

You’ve never been able to tell him no, even though he has the same eyes as his older brother.

You feel uneasy when Pulcinella knocks at your door one evening.

It’s routine for him to visit Ajax’s home, he is the one who offered him the position in the Fatui, you knew he had good combat skills but never would have guessed it was enough for him to be recognized as one of the harbingers. His name is no longer familiar, replaced with Tartaglia. He erases the name given to him, fully accepting his role.

You open your door for him, it would be rude not to answer when the mayor comes to your door.

He smiles gently at you, it does nothing to relieve your nerves, makes goosebumps run down your spine and you will yourself to meet his gaze and return a smile that you would never call your own.

“For you.”

You let him place the box in your hand, it's rectangular, flat, and wrapped beautifully. It makes your stomach drop when his hand touches yours, you can feel a letter slip in between your hand and his, it reminds you of when your grandmother would place chocolates in your hand when you were a child.

“Thank you.” You mumble, mouth dry and lips chapped from the unexpected visit. He nods, leaving you and waving goodbye at Ajax’s family.

You set the box down next to the fireplace, you can hear the crackles from the wood engulfed in flames, it makes you feel less lonely at night. Now that your siblings have gone and left, you’re left to take care of the house your parents had left behind.

You carefully unwrap the bow that sits on top, folding it neatly beside you. Your palms are sweaty when you peel back the wrapping paper. The outside is revealed with the name of an expensive boutique known for the intricate patterns of beautifully displayed lingerie.

You stare at it in disbelief, the measurements are your size down to the millimeter, you feel like screaming. Like locking yourself in your home, blocking out the windows and doors so that no one, no one else could ever invade your privacy the way that he has.

The black lace is decorated with hints of glitter and the satin lines it feels so, so fine. If it were from anyone else you would be enamored, delighted to wear this for someone that you held feelings for, but the only thing you feel is fear.

You remember the letter that was placed in your hands.

You wish you hadn’t opened it. He only speaks of the past, how he never got to tell you how grateful and happy he was to see you after he had been missing for so long.

When you returned home with Ajax, he was different, asking how many days have passed to everyone that came to visit him during his recovery, contemplating how time passes differently where he was in. When you would see him, you had reassured him over and over that it was three days, though he argued it had been three months. He used to make you retell the story again, and again, and again going over the most miniscule details until you were in tears telling him that it’s all you can remember.

You throw the box and letter into the fire, watching the flames consume it all. You spend the remainder of the night fitting whatever parts of your life that you could in a suitcase.

You leave the next morning.

Your life in Fontaine is calmer than back home, you’re near the ocean and you bask in the warm windy hills during the day or dive into the ocean once you’ve finished your work at the small little dress boutique in the middle of the city.

Your boss teases you about one of the Gardes that have caught your attention when he patrols, you even sparked up a conversation about your favorite flowers you’ve encountered in Fontaine.

“Romaritime flowers!” you exclaim, “They’re beautiful. They look so pure in and out of the water.”

He places one in your hands the next time you meet, promising to take you on a proper date when he finishes patrol.

You assume the bouquet of them at your front door was from him, assume that you would see him that night when you closed the boutique and assume that he would ask where you would like to go next.

You spent that morning getting ready for work. Donning one of your favorite dresses, it compliments you well enough to make you stand out, but still allows you to work comfortably. It’s something your boss had given to you when you first arrived in Fontaine, the excuse was that you also needed something when you would go out. How else would you fit in?

You cried at her kindness, something you had not encountered in years.

You finish work that night, assuring your boss that you would close up. She gives you a hug, tells you that she wants to hear all about it when you come back after your day off.

The clouds start to darken when she leaves. You hope it’s only temporary.

You imagine this is what heartbreak feels like.

To trust someone with your feelings so easily only to be faced with the hard realization that they didn’t seem to care about that trust to begin with. The rain, which you hoped was short lived, only rubs salt in the wound. It’s pouring, your shoes are in your hands and your dress is stuck to your body. You waited for two hours after the boutique closed for him to come by, you waited another hour after his patrol ended. You finally left after ten more minutes, when a young woman knew the look on your face and offered you her umbrella. You politely declined, assured her that you would be okay.

In the end you’re left disappointed, cold, and wet. It reminds you of the numerous times you would come home from the harsh snowfall in Snezhnaya, greeted with silence when you stepped foot into your house shivering and attempting to start a fire. You hated it.

You ignore the stares from couples strolling the night, instead focusing on the cool pavement beneath your bare feet, how the rain feels somewhat cooling to your face and how you can hide your tears.

It’s better this way, to only rely on yourself. You’re all you have after all.

When you return home, you toss your shoes outside to dry. Slamming the door behind you and begin struggling to peel off your dress because the fabric is soaking wet and it’s stubbornly sticking to your skin. You curse when it doesn’t come off, panting and pulling it over your head, you step on something sharp, cursing again when you finally throw your dress off and the tears threaten to spill. You curse and throw the dress into the corner of your living room.

You’re left cold, shivering, and only in your bra and panties when you look at the blood from your foot. You begin to cry.

Your gaze then follows the trail of broken glass on your floor, the pool of water leading up to the broken vase of the Romaritime flowers.

“Do you let others stare at you like this?”

Your blood runs cold. You remember the same feeling back when he found you staring out into the horizon all those years ago.

He places a hand over your mouth, holds you flush against his chest when he sneaks up from behind you. “Shh, s’kay.”

You can’t scream, you squirm in his hold, kicking and clawing at his arm holding your face. He thinks it would be fun to allow you to think he’s off balance.

You shift all your weight onto him, hoping that in the fall you’ll have enough time to run, to hide, to fight. You could run to your neighbor’s house, the nice little old couple that lives behind you and hide in their garden until you’re safe. You wish you were safe, you wish you were home sooner. Oh fuck, if only you hadn’t waited for so long into the night.

He grabs your wrist before you’re able to move, bringing you back to him. You force yourself to find strength to move, to be able to turn around and face him. He anticipates this, he spins you around like a dancing couple would.

He laughs once and you stop.

You no longer want to look, you can only see the boy who was missing smiling and complimenting you with blood running down his nose, you remember the lingerie he sent when you were still in the village, how your stomach dropped when the mayor knocked at your door.

Nothing compares to this, to the goosebumps littering your skin when he peers down at you, blue eyes that don’t ever leave your gaze and make you feel like you’re drowning in the sea waters that surround Fontaine.

“I was waiting for you” he whispers, peppering your face with kisses while you stand there, frozen. It’s similar to the time when he collapsed in front of you, only this time you can’t find the words to scream.

It’s funny how this time he’s found you. Your poor attempt at hiding from him is amusing.

“Missed you so much” he continues to kiss you, makes his way down to your collarbones and doesn’t hesitate to get on his knees to kiss the softness of your stomach or the tops of your breasts that are exposed to him.

“Should have locked you up you know? You ran from me, took me forever to find you.”

“Ajax” you whisper, the tears that sting your eyes are threatening to spill. “Why are you here?”

You hold in a sob, you know why. You’ve always known why he was enamored by you.

“Does it matter?” he breathes, shifting his position so he is behind you again, kissing the tears off the side of your face, watching how your breathing shifts when his cold hands touch the bare skin exposed to him.

“Had to pay that Garde off really well. He wasn’t cheap, you know?”

Your heart breaks further, the sob you were holding building into your throat. “You’re so worth it though, pretty little thing. Look at how I found you, fuck, you missed me too didn’t you?”

He’s guiding you to your couch, laying you down while he towers over you. You feel nauseous when you feel his hardening cock through his pants, “look at you, look at you!” He laughs again, another bout of tears flowing down your cheeks, hot and heavy.

He leans down to kiss you, you turn your head but Ajax isn’t opposed to using force to get what he wants, you know this. You’ve always known this. He takes your face into his hands again, squishing your cheeks together like he did before except his gaze is demanding, icy, and bitter.

“Kiss me back”

You oblige, letting him press his lips against yours and slipping his tongue into your mouth. You flinch at the roll of his lips, clutching at his shirt when he groans into your mouth. He mistakes this as want, giving you more until you’re consumed by him, his presence, his scent, his touch.

He breaks away to let you breathe, smiles at the string of spit that connects both of you and how your eyes are hazing, even though he can’t tell if it’s from crying or from how dizzy he’s made you when he kissed you.

“Let’s celebrate” He’s off of you before you can register what he said, grabbing a bottle of one of Mondstat’s best wines. He’s unceremonious, rogue even, when he pops the cork off and takes a drink straight from the bottle before dipping back down to kiss you.

He didn’t swallow much to your surprise, he let the wine pass from his mouth to yours. Pulling away to watch your face scrunch up at the taste, “s’good” he slurs, taking another drink and swallowing this time.

“Here.” He’s pulling you to sit up, he’s so fast it’s hard to follow what he’s thinking, what he’s doing. He’s taking another drink again, it’s smaller this time, more like a sip that he thinks is adequate for you.

He doesn’t let you pull back, his hand is on the nape of your neck making sure you can’t escape his intensity. You try to keep up, letting his tongue enter your mouth and swirl with his. It’s so sloppy, so hot, and sticky that it makes your head spin. He only gives you a break to drink more wine, to make you both drink more.

He keeps giving you more and more, loves when you get weaker and you don’t protest as much anymore. When you whine and start anticipating the alcohol from his mouth to yours, it makes the taste more bearable and your thoughts aren’t as loud in your head.

The wine keeps spilling from the corners of your mouth, leaving a little trail of purple-red for him to lick up to. He’s sucking at the skin of your neck, finding your pulse point so easily. His teeth nip at your skin, you don’t mean to lean into him, the alcohol is making you slow to react. He swears he hears a small moan escape your lips when he nips at the sensitive skin again.

His hand slides down your chest, feeling your tits through the fabric of your bra, it’s still wet.

“Ajax” you slur, “wanna wait” you say. He looks at you, he notices the tears again. You feel them spill, you’re cold. You cling onto him because at least he’s offering you that sliver of comfort.

“Wait?” He repeats, licking a tear off of your cheek.

“Why would I wait when I know you want me too?” He whispers in your ear, his hands unclasping your bra in one go. His touch is cold, similar to how it feels when you first go into the sea. Your body has to get use to it, it starts to warm up and you feel like you could swim and float for hours.

It’s the same with his touch, the cool tips of his fingers warm up the more he squeezes. He likes the sound you make when he pinches at your nipples, he takes one into his mouth, sucking and licking. Groaning when he hears the little whimpers you try to hold back.

He makes his way back up to your lips again, grabs your hands that are clutching at his sides to guide them down to palm the shape of his cock through his pants.

He’s dreamt of this for so long.

“Oh fuck” he pants, his breath hitting your lips before he’s kissing you again, his tongue feels like he’s lapping into your mouth getting as sloppy as possible as if you’re going to vanish again. His tongue rolls over yours until he’s aching, cock throbbing for attention.

“Hey, feel me here.” He pants, eyes red rimmed and the blue of his irises brighter. You feel like you could drown in them.

He takes your hand and holds it in his, tossing his vision on your table. He’s undoing his belt & pulling his pants down enough for his cock to spring free.

He wraps your hand around the base, guides you in how fast and how much pressure to place around him, when he lets go of your hand you can feel him looking at you. You’re focused on the length of him, how heavy and hot he feels against your hand.

You feel like crying again. You oblige him because at least he’ll leave you alone sooner, you’re just another thing for him to win over, to declare victory before he gets bored with you and moves on to this next challenge.

“More fuck, please more” he pants, hips stuttering into your hand. You can feel the sticky, hot precum that coats the tip of his dick and now your hand. You look up at him and see that he’s got his head tipped back, moaning about how hot you are, how good you are, how he’s thought about this since you saved him. Since you found him, how he’s been in love with you since he found you looking out into the horizon. Even before, he’s been in love with you since the beginning, since he saw you.

“You owe me this.” he breathes.

“What?”

He laughs again, the same one that haunts you.

“Don’t act like you didn’t know. I had you watched wherever you went, I made sure your siblings got into the school they wanted, fuck I even followed you here.”

He takes your hand in his, knows that your hand is coated in his pre cum, takes one of your fingers and licks it up the length. His eyes ever leave yours as he does.

“You should thank me.” He deadpans, cock still throbbing and hard when he stands up at full height.

“Thank me.” He repeats the length of his dick is on your face, rutting against your cheek until the tip meets your lips.

“Yeah, that's how you should do it.” He smiles, the one that meets his eyes. The genuine one.

He’s holding on to the back of your head before you can move. He doesn’t care if your hair is messy, it's almost dry now. He takes your hand again, planting it onto his thigh for leverage.

His grip returns to the base of his cock, tapping the tip on your lips again.

You don’t open your mouth, new tears building up in your waterline. He shows no remorse for what he’s doing, no concern, he thinks he deserves this. It’s the least he deserves for what he’s done for you.

He pinches your nose, catching you when you part your lips to shove his length into your mouth.

You cry, struggling to breathe at the pace he starts at.

“Woulda been so gentle to you if you would have been good, fuck.”

He seethes, eyes rolling into the back of his head when both of his hands are holding your head to match his hips. Your nails are digging into his thighs, your strength unmatched for how you try to push yourself off of him as he pulls you forward on his length. He can’t handle the hot, wet, tightness of the back of your throat.

“Fuck yes, more, more, more” he chants, pinching your nose again to see you panic when you look up again, he loves you like this. When your chin is covered in spit and tears and his balls hit you with every rut of his hips.

“God, gonna paint your fucking face, slut. Gonna cover you in my cum so you can never forget who you belong to”

You can feel that he’s getting close, he grants you grace for only one second before he’s holding your jaw in his hand again.

You take in gulps of air, coughing, and crying while he forces you to look at him.

“Don’t run from me again.” He seethes, forcing you back down on his length.

He’s ruthless this time, uncaring for the way your eyes can’t focus, or how you look like you’re going to pass out. You’re vision keeps going in and out, you can hear yourself. How you choke and gag around his length how he curses with each “ack. ack. ack” of his dick hitting the back of your throat.

“Gonna cum—shit”

He pulls you off, using one of his hands to keep you in place while he jacks himself off with the other.

“Say it, say who you belong to.”

You can’t understand, hazy vision threatening to go black.

“Fuck, say it and I’ll cum. I’ll cover your fucking face and never leave you. You understand? You’re mine. “

You don’t know what he’s rambling on about. You want to plead with him, talk this out and let him know he could pursue someone else.

“Ajax” you rasp.

“Yeah? You belong to me don’t you? Oh fuck—“

He groans, doesn’t hold his voice back, calling you all sorts of names but mostly that you’re his, his, his.

His cum on your face should be enough to prove it. He looks at you like a masterpiece, taking his finger and dragging it through his cum and putting it into his mouth before kissing you.

“Don’t let anyone else see you like this.”

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zoros-bandana · 1 year

Note

Hii, can you write something like angst with Zoro? Y/n an him fight and argue about something but they made up at the end??

Miscommunication.

Warning: fighting, yelling, swearing, drinking/slightly drunk

Summary: After being with Zoro for a while, the lack of compliments and attention became a nagging point; wishing to feel special. A conversation with Sanji left an unusual sense of fulfilment you had never experienced before, only to later bring it up with Zoro in hopes he would understand your desires.

Word Count: 1,800

"All I said was that I don't find it fair"

"Yeah, and I know exactly what that means, Y/n!"

You had approached Zoro with the idea this conversation would go smoother, hoping to bring Sanji into conversation after a few drinks would sooth him. It was obvious the mutual displeasure both Zoro and Sanji shared for one another, all the more imposing as you began to date Zoro. It was a taboo topic to even mention a budding nickname for the cook, Zoro shutting down any discussion of him, almost protective in the way of his bitterness.

"Well clearly you don't because you're not listening to me"

Zoro chuckled darkly. "Oh I heard you quite clearly, Y/n. Curly brow had finally gotten to you in his love-sick ways and you're falling for him"

"I'm not falling for him! I'm very much in love with you, Zoro. All that happened was Sanji-"

"Don't fucking mention his name!"

"Well what do you want me to say?"

"Nothing"

"Nothing?"

Zoro grunted, confirming his wish. The bottle of alcohol he held in his hand stayed firm in his grip, once acting as a brace but now as the bottle hit his lips he used it as a distraction. The liquid vanished before your eyes, each chaotic chug intensifying his rage, stewing over exact what Sanji could have said to make you question your relationship with him.

Once of his biggest fears was losing you - an irrational fear in this lifestyle you shared - especially to that of Sanji. Zoro was aware he could be cold and stoic, but never expected you to slip away from him over a short conversation with the cook.

"What did he say to you?" Zoro finally gasped, taking a break from his chugging.

"I thought you didn't want me to say anything?"

"What did he fucking say to you, Y/n?"

A heavy exhale parted your lips, knowing it would fuel the fire to discuss what Sanji had said. Of course you remembered, word for word, replaying over in your head. There was a feeling of utter guilt thinking of someone else instead of Zoro, but the way he spoke, looked at you, even how he leaned into you was enough to make your head spin. It was a softness Zoro had never shown.

At first, it didn't bother you. You knew what exactly who you were dating when you started to crush on Zoro. He didn't appear to have any complex layers, always neutral in his performance and showed no lean for affection or softness around the crew. But as the pursuit of interest happened, and over a long period of time, it was clear just how much you missed something. A part of you craved someone to be vulnerable with, intimate, not afraid to express how they feel about you and make you feel like you mattered. Blame it on your past, or the people that hurt you, but no matter the cause there was always a need for adoration in your life.

Stepping away you calmly took a seat, grounding yourself, your legs buckling under you in a horrendous shake. You could feel Zoro's eye watching your every move, hazed with anger, ready to attack you the second he had the chance.

"I told him I was feeling a little low about myself, and he wanted to comfort me" you began, taking another deep breath. "He told me how incredible I am and that ever since I arrived on the ship I have done nothing but taken his breath away by how beautiful I am. He said he wished he could adore me fully, to look after me and when he made me a cup of tea he remembered how I liked it, even down to my favourite cup..."

You looked up at Zoro, scared to hear the answer, ignoring the blatant anger on his heated face. "What is my favourite cup, Zoro?"

"You don't have one!" Zoro spat, furious you would even ask such a ridiculous question. "You don't even like tea!"

Sighing again you dropped you eyes, hating how the conversation had turned. "I do like tea, Zoro. It's like you don't even know me at all..."

"Yeah, well maybe we should break up then!"

Zoro's words shot through you as a cruel sting, leaving you stunned. You hadn't wished to come to this conclusion, knowing how much you loved and adored your boyfriend, in hopes he would feel the same. But maybe after that, his feelings would never reciprocate your own.

Your hands came up to cover your face, hiding yourself as you sobbed, wailing into your hands. Your body ached forward, curling yourself over into your legs, hiding yourself as much as possible. Every inch of you ached, regretting ever saying anything to him, wishing to just sit on your hurt; anything to have him take back what he said.

"I don't want to break up, Zoro! I just want to feel special! I want to feel like I matter to you and that you find me attractive in some way!"

Zoro furrowed his brows, unsure of how to properly act. The brief intermission of your cries let him breath, seeing you were more upset than angry at him. He was caught in his own whirlwind of anger, blinded by a fog of rage to even consider what you truely wanted; only what he thought he was hearing. His was still furious, but now more-so at Sanji for coming between you and himself, making you feel so hurt and guilty for wanting to express your feelings; and for the way he react to them.

"I do find you attractive, Y/n. I wouldn't be with you if I didn't"

"Then why don't you act like it?"

Your voice cracked, unable to hold back the continued stream you held in for so long. It was unfair how much you felt you had to hold in for Zoro's sake, knowing he wouldn't cope with emotions - your emotions - pushing you away instead. "You have never admitted to how you feel or told me I'm pretty or comforted me and made me feel like everything would be okay"

"I just don't see it as something practical; nothing will ever be okay"

"It doesn't have to be practical all the time. I like affection where I feel seen, and like I feel special to you and not just like I am a friend. You could do this with anyone but I am your girlfriend, I want you to make me feel loved. I don't think that is asking for too much. And I know that not everything has to be okay, but I want us to be, Zoro. I want to be with you"

The heavy footsteps of Zoro came towards you, dragging against the floor. They stopped as his body hovered over you, bending down to see you face-to-face, letting you lift your head to meet his gaze. His face had dropped, neutral as always, giving no indication whether his next words would be insulting or sincere.

"Tell me then, how do I be better for you? What do you want me to say? What do you want me to do?"

You thought for a moment, wiping at the remaining tears pricking your eyes, wishing to see him more human than before. You felt dizzy with emotions, muddled into a pool of dread flooding you to think clearly. You hadn't pondered on the idea, half expecting him to think about your words and find out himself. But as you looked up at him, the lingering notes of alcohol burning his lips, there was a familiar stance of drunk before you; unbeknown whether he would even remember this conversation.

Deciding to let it out, you confessed, hoping even if it was a minute detail something would get through to him.

"I would like you to try and be more soft with your words. Take my feelings into consideration and not to look at me like... that" you waved at his face, making him look away. "Compliment me from time-to-time, tell me I look nice, or something that I am doing is cute, or you like it when I do something small like laugh at a joke. Give me random gifts for no reason; they don't have to be expensive. Hand written notes, a pebble on the beach that reminded you of me, anything that lets me know you think of me when I'm not around"

Zoro stood back up straight, sighing once more as he cleared his head. He knew he had a decision to make, to put you before himself and his feelings, something he struggled to grasp. It wasn't that he didn't care about you or how you felt, but rather how he saw you cope with emotions differently to him. He wasn't used to this; the crying, the pleading, the reasoning. Zoro knew how to bottle himself, keeping as much of his emotions to the side, finding a relief through training. However, meeting you, he never expected he would have to change, to communicate and cooperate with you. He had never done this - been with someone like this - wishing to spend the rest of his days by your side.

And for that, Zoro would have to put you first.

"Alright" Zoro nodded, his face blushing in a bright red.

"So does that mean you don't want to break up?"

"Of course I don't want to break up" Zoro sighed, realising his mistake. He looked back down to you, softer, his eye still fluttering to meet your gaze properly. "I- I'm sorry I said that to you. I was angry and I thought if I said it you wouldn't have to. I didn't want to keep dragging this out if you wanted to end things with me"

"Why would I wish that? I love you so much, Zoro"

"I know that, Y/n, it's just I-"

Zoro stopped himself, realising the drop in your face, recognising his dismissal as something negative. Your eyes clouded with fear, brimming with a new set of tears, afraid he hadn't changed; caught in the same dismissive tone as always.

He sighed. "I love you, too"

Taking a seat next to you, Zoro flopped down, carelessly leaning towards you. There was an earthy warmth in him, leaning over you as his arm found its way around, holding you close. It was rare he was able to be so still, your chosen time for this conversation finally playing to your advantage. "Ya know I'm still gonna kill ero-cook for this, right?"

"I know" you smirked, leaning yourself against his shoulder. "I wouldn't expect less from you"

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withwritersblock · 4 months

Text

Oh! Darling pt. 2

~Oh! Darling by The Beatles~

Author's Note: someone had asked for a part two and this is the best I could do teheh Summary: The months after the loss in game 7 Warnings: swearing? Word Count: 2,754 Quinn Hughes x fm!reader

The buzzer went off and his entire body felt overwhelmingly heavy. The last three months of his life have been the most exhausting. The sound of the Oilers players cheering and screaming as they skated towards one another. Quinn kneels onto the ice, his eyes filling with tears. He was never emotional but his body was exhausted. His mind was full of dread and right now all he wanted to see was his little girl.

Brock skated beside him, resting his hand onto his shoulder as Quinn hung his head low. “We gotta hit the handshake,” Brock mumbled. Quinn nodded as he reluctantly got onto his feet. He nearly collapsed as he skated forward. Brock took a hold of Quinn’s arm, helping him up.

He tilted his head back, looking up to the stands. Watching thousands of disappointed fans leave the stands. He clenched his jaw as he led the line. He pressed his lips together as he tilted the helmet back. He made eye contact with Connor, a soft smile formed to his lips. “You’re killer man,” Connor muttered out.

“Thanks, Go get ‘em,” Quinn forced out. He mumbled as he continued down the line, taking the praises of the team that just beat them. Embarrassed them. He craved to know the feeling of the other side. It only added fuel to the fire under his belt. He was captain, he needed to carry this anger onto the next season. Pre-season was already on his mind.

He started the skate towards the dressing room, his eyes were on his skates as he continued down the tunnel. The words of the coaches were silent as his mind was foggy. He was mad at himself and feeling his chest ache as he continued down the tunnel. He walked towards his stall, tossing his helmet into it. He continued to rip off the rest of his gear, frustration oozing from his body.

No one else says anything when they enter the locker room as they all begin to take off their gear. Quinn sat down staring towards the floor as he clenched his jaw.

“Quinn, need you for an interview,” One of the interns offered as he stepped into the locker room. Quinn lifted his gaze, meeting the eye of the young twenty year old. Quinn nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Quinn stood up as he blindly followed the young kid towards the interview room.

He was quickly covered in cameras and tiny microphones. He took in a sharp breath as he stared blankly towards the collection of microphones. They were firing questions towards him and he was able to answer them but he couldn’t tell anyone what he actually said. He answered with his media training answers for tough losses. This was his toughest one yet.

He walked out of the locker room, showered and ready to head home. He lifted his gaze to see Y/N standing beside Jack. His eyes widened as he met his younger brother’s gaze. “Jack,” he mumbled as he jogged towards them. “You’re supposed to be in Michigan,” he mumbled as he hugged Jack. He pulled away before he engulfed Y/N in a hug.

“Game sevens are tough man, I’m sorry it didn’t go the other way,” he muttered out. Quinn took in a sharp breath as he pressed his lips together.

“Yeah, me too.” Quinn expressed as he planted his lips to Y/N’s cheek. “Come on, Ellie has to meet Uncle Jack,” he mumbled as he began walking towards his car at the opposite end of the parking garage.

~~~

It was late but the adrenaline from the game was overwhelming. Quinn wouldn’t be able to sleep, Jack slept his whole five hour flight. Y/N definitely could sleep but she wanted to be supportive of Quinn. Jack, Quinn, and Y/N all slowly entered Ellie’s nursery as quietly as they could.

She was a very heavy sleeper for a baby, which always caused worry for Quin and Y/N. Always paranoid that she wasn’t actually sleeping, which always led to Quinn wide awake at three in the morning holding his tiny fragile little girl in his arms. He loved hearing the sound of her faint breathing, knowing that she was safe and healthy was all that mattered.

“Sit,” Quinn demanded for his little brother on the rocking chair beside the crib. Jack hesitantly sat down in the rocking chair, careful for it to not hit the wall behind him. He nervously glanced around the nursery.

“Are you sure? What if she wakes up?” Jack asked in a hushed tone. Quinn rolled his eyes as he leaned down into the crib, carefully cradling the small little girl.

“She’ll be fine,” Quinn mumbled as he walked towards Jack. Jack straightened up, holding his arms out as if a football was about to be placed in his hands. Quinn tried to stop the laughter rising in his throat. “Look at my arms, do that,” he mumbled towards Jack. He quickly listened, adjusting his grasp as Quinn slowly handed Ellie over to Jack.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” Jack mumbled as he stared towards the sleeping baby in his arms, his niece. His first niece. She was so small, much smaller than he had expected. “So tiny,” he mumbled out. Y/N inched towards Quinn, snuggling up to him watching Jack interact with his niece for the first time.

“Careful with her head,” Quinn let out. Jack nodded as he adjusted, slowly supporting her tiny head more.

“You better not tell Lukey, I cried, alright, I’m supposed to be the tough one,” he mumbled out, sniffling as he rocked slowly. Quinn chuckled softly as he shifted his gaze towards Y/N. She was already looking towards him with so much admiration.

“I’m proud of you,” she mouthed towards Quinn, he smiled softly as he leaned towards her, pressing his lips against hers for a brief second. “I’m going to head to bed, I love you,” she whispered towards Quinn. He nodded as he let her slip away from his grasp.

Quinn quickly kneeled down beside the rocking chair, as he kept his gaze on his sleepy little girl. “Dude, she’s your kid, this is crazy,” Jack let out as he licked his lips nervously. Quinn smiled widely as he looked towards the tuffle of hair on her head. It was becoming thicker as the last few months have progressed.

“Isn’t she amazing?” he let out as he continued to look over at her. Jack could simply nod. “She makes me forget about every bad thing that’s happened. Like how could I be sad when I have a daughter, who’s the sweetest little thing in the world,” Quinn expressed as he slowly ran his fingers across her tiny head.

Jack lifted his gaze, watching his brother admire the baby girl. He knew his brother would be a good dad, but he never expected that to happen during a prime time in his career. He was good at handling both sides of his life.

“Still can’t believe you’re a dad,” Jack let out, “My brother, who used to hit me over the head with a hockey stick is a dad,”

Quinn tilted his head back laughing quietly, “I did not,” he muttered. Jack lifted his head with his mouth open.

~Two weeks later~

Quinn was lying on the couch with Ellie napping on his chest. He was watching the cooking show on the screen as he was soothingly running his hand up and down the tiny back of his daughter.

“I know you’re asleep but the second those little hands can hold things you’re going to help me cook,” he whispered. His phone started vibrating in his pocket. His eyes widened as he quickly dug his phone out as quietly as he could. He pulled the phone towards his ear. “Lukey, the doors unlocked,” he whispered.

“Why are you whispering?” Luke asked, he sounded slightly winded as he was probably climbing the eight flights of stairs towards the apartment. Luke had a minor fear of elevators, especially ones that last more than four flights.

“Ellie is asleep on my chest in the living room so be very quiet please,” Quinn mumbled. He delicately placed the phone down on the coffee table as he hung up the phone. He slowly started to sit up with his hand holding the back of her head and her tiny upper back. He still held her against his chest as he sat up slowly, she squirmed as she slowly woke up.

“Shoot,” he mumbled as she slowly babbled. “Your Momma is going to be so mad I cut your nap short,” he whispered as he slowly pulled her face away from his chest, smiling towards her.

Luke stumbled into the room, tripping over his own foot in the process, “Shit-shoot my bad,” he let out louder than he intended. Luke’s eyes widened as he slowly shut the door behind him, “Oh shit did I wake her-oh shoot, I’m sorry,” Luke panicky whispered.

Quinn stood up from the couch as he maneuvered the little girl to his side, her tiny eyes looked towards Luke, looking him up and down. “You’re good, I woke her because I tried to sit up,” Quinn said while laughing, “Get over here Lukey,” Quinn took a couple of steps towards Luke. Luke awkwardly rubbed his hands together as he stared towards his niece for the first time.

Luke pouted his lips as he felt his eyes tear up. “Wow,” he let out. Quinn smiled as he walked towards his youngest brother.

“Do you want to hold her?” Quinn asked, a small smile on his lips. Luke’s eyes widened as he shook his head.

“No, I’m clumsy, I’ll drop her-she’s too cute to be dropped,” he mutters, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Go sit,” Quinn ushered Luke over with his free hand. Luke let out a nervous sigh as he walked towards the couch.

“What if I drop her?” Luke mumbled as he walked towards the couch and awkwardly sat down. Quinn rolled his eyes as he sat down beside Luke.

“If you drop her, I got these dad reflexes now; I can save her,” Quinn expressed as he jerked his head back and forth as he let out a teasing huff of air. Luke rolled his eyes playfully.

“Where’s Y/N?” Luke asked as he awkwardly stared towards Quinn.

“She’s out with Riley for the morning. Over the last couple weeks, I’ve spent most of the day with Ellie. Y/N was crazy busy with her while the playoffs were going on, so she’s getting a bit of a break,” he explained while he handed Ellie over to Luke. He held her nervously as he awkwardly held her forward. “She’s not a bomb, Luke,” Quinn said laughing.

“I don’t want to hurt her,” he let out as he nervously brought her closer to his chest. He laid her in his arms awkwardly as he met her tiny little gaze. He pouted his lips as he looked over his niece.

“Like you could hurt her, Gentle Giant,” Quinn offered as he patted Luke on his shoulder. “Look at that, you’re a natural,”

“She’s got a lot of hair,” Luke observed as he shifted his head around looking at his niece from all different directions. Quinn nodded.

“Apparently Y/N was the same when she was a baby,” Quinn mumbled as he rested his hand on the back of the couch. Luke teared up as he swallowed hard.

“God, she was so tiny in the photos and videos. She’s so big now,” Luke expressed, as he sniffled. “She better be in Michigan every summer from now on. No more boys only trips, she’s gotta be there,” he mumbled, his voice cracking slightly.

“So you can prove you’re the cool uncle?” Quinn teased.

“One hundred percent,” Luke muttered out. Quinn started reaching for Ellie. Luke furrowed his eyebrows, protectively holding her closer, “I’m not done,” he let out. Quinn chuckled as he rolled his eyes.

“I gotta grab her a bottle,” Quinn explained.

“Then you grab one and I’ll just stay here with my niece,” Luke sing-songed. Quinn rolled his eyes playfully as he stood up from the couch dramatically.

~September~

“Alright baby girl, you got your hat on, check, adorable blue dress, check, stroller, check,” Quinn spoke dramatically as he bounced back and forth, trying to entertain Ellie for a few minutes while he waited for Y/N to finish getting ready. He leaned forward, pulled the stroller to give Ellie more of a sun visor.

Quinn adjusted the hat on his head as he turned his head to watch Y/N walk out of the bedroom, a t-shirt and shorts to her frame. “Let’s get this family run started, shall we?” Quinn said excitedly as he rested his hands on Y/N’s hips, guiding her backwards towards the stroller.

“Do we have to?” she groaned out as she rested her hands on the base of his neck.

“We used to go on runs every morning before you went to work, baby, I’m just bringing it back now that Ellie can join us,” he leaned towards her, kissing her lips briefly.

“Quinn, my love, that was over a year and a whole pregnancy ago,” she said as she played with the short ends of his hair. He did a big chop before pre-season started. “There is no way I can keep up with you,” she mumbled. He smiled softly.

“Which is why I’m pushing the stroller and we are going to go at your pace,” he explained as he tightened his grip around her waist. She pouted her lips as she tilted her head back. “Baby, you used to drag me out of bed to go on these runs.”

“I know but now I like the comfort of our bed, now that our beautiful baby girl sleeps through the night I want to spend time in that bed,” she pouted her lips as she scanned his features.

“Once you get out there, feel the fresh air, you’ll love it,” Quinn explained as he leaned towards her kissing her lips. She held his head in place as she returned the kiss slowly. He pulled away, pecking her lips a few times.

“You’re really convincing,” she mumbled against his lips.

“All I know is that you will be taking El on a run daily after today,” he muttered. She rolled her eyes as she walked toward their apartment door, pulling it open.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” she muttered as she motioned for him to get the stroller and start to push Ellie.

He paused at the door, leaning towards her pecking her lips, “I know,” he said as he stepped out of the apartment. She rolled her eyes as she followed after them.

Once they stepped foot outside, it was evident that Y/N was excited. The fresh air and the path that her and Quinn used to always go on directly in front of her. Quinn leaned in front of the stroller, smiling towards Ellie. She giggled as Quinn’s head popped in her view sideways.

“You’re going to look ridiculous pushing that,” Y/N pointed towards him and the stroller. He rolled his eyes as he gripped the handles tightly.

“Oh like this?” he let out as he began jogging, leaving Y/N stranded for only a moment. She chuckled as she jogged after him. She soon matched his pace, breathing heavily.

“Yep, ridiculous,” she teased as she met his gaze for only a second before she glanced into the stroller to see a smiling Ellie. “Our baby girl is loving it, so I can’t complain,” she let out through a huff of air.

“Want me to slow down?” he asked. She shook her head.

“It’s been a while since I felt like this,” she let out as she took a deep breath. Quinn met her gaze while raising his eyebrows.

“Oh yeah? I think I remember the last time you were breathing this heavy,” he smirked.

“Watch yourself, Quinny,” she said as smirked, taking in a deep breath.

“I think it was the night-” he began. She rolled her eyes as she quickened her pace to get past him. “Oh come on,” he let out while laughing.

“Try to keep up!” she hollered after him as she spun around, running backwards. Her gaze looked down towards Ellie. She was slowly drifting off to sleep.

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sleepisapriviligethatidonthave · 15 days

Note

Fir the MegOp request: TFA Megatron reaction that TFA Optimus is a space bridge repair worker

Finally I found your ask! I spent a century combing through my notifications XD

Aaaaanyways, here it is! Hope you like it ^^

Megatron swung his swords at the Prime, missing by a wire’s breath when the Autobot ducked and returned the attack in kind. It was a familiar song and dance for the warlord by now, though usually their fights were not so… private.

As luck would have it, both of them had answered an energy anomaly in the forest near Detroit. It had been a rather pleasant surprise to find the young Prime all by his lonesome right after locating the Allspark fragment in the middle of a small clearing in said woods.

“Not too shabby, Autobot. A few more millennia and you might stand a chance at defeating me!” he mocked as he kicked his opponent to the ground. It was almost too easy sometimes, but the Prime always pulled through one way or another.

“I have a name!” snapped Optimus as he rolled just out of reach of Megatron’s pede which left a small crater right where he had been a moment ago, “I am Optimus Prime, and you ought to remember that!” he growled and slashed with his axe at the pede, only grazing the thick warframe armour. Megatron couldn’t help but laugh at the feeble attempt to injure him.

It was always fun to see his enemies infuriated at the fact that he didn’t know their names. He did, but one thing he had learned early on in his gladiatorial career was that an unconcentrated opponent was a weak one. That practice of his had helped him all throughout the war and even after that. It wasn’t often that he met an opponent that kept their cool so well in the face of such disrespect.

“Ah, yes, the rank of Prime. The standards for it have fall quite a bit, haven’t they?” he chuckled with a smirk and parried the angry swing aimed at his helm, throwing the Autobot into the air. Megatron watched with a hint of surprise as his foe flipped in the air and landed square on his pedes, ready to resume their fight. “Or maybe not.” he muttered to himself and went in for another attack.

Few survived an encounter with him and lived long enough to tell the tale. Even fewer willingly went against him again, which made fighting the young mech such a delight.

The little Prime never ceased to surprise. He was always so resourceful and selfless – two qualities he had long believed to be extinct when it came to Autobots. He fought rather rigidly, yes, but he knew when to change tactics in order to secure an advantage. That, he could respect, he could use. If only the Prime wasn’t so foolishly loyal to his rusted cause.

Optimus dodged blaster fire with ease as he shot a grappling hook at one of Megatron’s swords, attempting to seize it.

Megatron grabbed the chord and pulled, sending Prime once again flying through the open sky, but this time luck was not on his side. He smashed against a tree, with a loud crack before falling to the ground, heaving.

“You Autobots never learn, do you? You can not defeat me, even the best of you.” he knew that praising him was a contradictive move, but he had earned it.

It came as a surprise to hear the Prime snort and try to stifle a chuckle.

“What’s so funny, Autobot?” the reaction puzzled him. He was about to be offlined and yet here he was, laughing like Megatron had told him the funniest joke in the galaxy.

“Oh, it’s nothing, really. It’s just that, if you really think that an academy washout, space bridge technician is ‘one of the best’, then it’s not the Autobots’ standard that has fallen.” snickered Optimus as he looked up at Megatron with a slag eating grin.

The warlord froze in place, his CPU attempting and failing to process the new information.

“What?”

Optimus laughed even harder, wincing when his vents, damaged by the hit he took, expelled a wheezing sound.

Megatron pressed the tip of one of his swords right against the Autobot’s main fuel line, effectively silencing him. “Explain yourself, now.” he growled menacingly.

“What exactly is there to explain? I already told you the truth. I’m not a fully fledged Prime. Officially I’m not even considered a warrior, no one on my team is. We’re space bridge technicians. Our job was to travel around the corners of the galaxy and repair the Autobot space bridge network.”

Megatron looked at the Prime in disbelief, every interaction they had ever had, replaying itself in the warlord’s mind as small, incongruous details about the team of Autobots slotted themselves into place to finally reveal the horrific truth.

They were no warriors, they were civilians who had been at the wrong place at the wrong time. That was why the Elite Guard had done next to nothing to help them. To the great Autobot machine they were fodder, disposable.

Disgust and hatred flashed through Megatron’s field, making Optimus flinch minutely when his own tense one came into contact with his.

This changed everything and nothing at the same time which only infuriated Megatron even more. It was dishonourable to fight against someone who could not face you properly in battle, who was not a warrior. It was Descepticon code, something he himself had put into place to prevent unnecessary carnage in the name of keeping Cybertron populated. Overtime, even the worst of the Descepticons had accepted it as law, even he himself had begun to view it as something on which his honour depended.

And here he was tarnishing it in the worst way imaginable.

“You know, if you ask me, I would much rather fight Cons for the rest of my life than go back to the most boring job in the universe.”

Immediately, Megatron’s helm snapped to the location of the voice only to see the bright yellow Autobot speedster sitting on a tree stump, looking at the bots before him while twirling the forgotten Allspark fragment in his servos.

“Personally, I’d rather be a space bridge technician. Bossbot is right, we aren’t warriors, and I’ll be more than happy to go back to doing what I signed up for.” came the voice of the big green Autobot from the other side of the clearing.

“Quit yer whining, will ya? We still need to save Optimus from Buckethead!” barked the team’s medic as he primed his magnets.

“I do not believe Optimus needs our saving.” chimed in the ninja bot who appeared from behind a tree.

Megatron took in all of the newly gathered Autobots, ignoring the last comment. Before, all he saw was a bunch of low-class warriors with lacking training, but now, he saw them for what they really were. It was so obvious in hindsight, he wanted to kick himself for missing it.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Prowl, I really appreciate it.” Megatron snapped his attention back to his original foe, having thought him incapacitated. Clearly, he had miscalculated again, as a spray of foam hit his faceplates, completely blinding him. He tried moving back, only for his pedes to be restrained in Prime’s grappling hook.

Megatron fell backwards with a grunt. As he tried to regain his sight, he could hear the commotion around him.

“Let’s go before he gets back up and hunts us down!” yelled Optimus. His command was met with no complaints and soon enough Megatron found himself alone on the clearing.

He growled and muttered curses as he cut the chord around his pedes. The mission had been a disaster. Of course, he could give chase to the Autobots and try to retrieve the Allspark fragment, but ultimately decided against it.

Once he finally deemed himself presentable, he gave one last glance to the direction in which the Autobot team retreated, sighed, and began the journey back to the Descepticon hideout. He was in no mood to rush back just to deal with his subordinates, so he opted to walk. That way he had some time to mull over the new information he had obtained and formulate a plan…

And think of a way to break the news to his Descepticons without causing a riot.

#megop #megatron #optimus prime #transformers #maccadam #tfa #answered asks #asks #asks open #ask game

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stylesispunk · 8 months

Text

"The not so invisible String" part 4

Not outbreak! Joel Miller x F! Reader

previous chapter | next chapter | series masterlist

summary: you and Joel were made right for each other at the wrong time. Now, thirteen years later your paths crossed when both of your daughters get in trouble at school. Would be the right time for you now?

word count: 5,5k

warnings: angst, cheating, in summary, it is a terrible day for the reader. "Doe" is her nickanme. No proof reading haha

a/n: Hello! Well, it took me almost two weeks (again) to write something. It was my birthday on Tuesday so my inspo came back for a moment because I felt happy that day. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading 💌 Remember my dms and asks are always open for you

dividers by @/saradika.

Time stopped. Tears and tears streamed down your cheeks. Humiliated, broken, and foolish. There was nothing but fury and desire next to a flame that threatened to explode into a fire, burning all the last years you had spent beside a man who just caused pain.

Your hands on the wheel were shaking, and your knuckles were purple after punching a thousand times, cursing Dwight’s name as if it were poison with a bitter taste in your lips.

You were following him. Following the path to the world he had built behind your back to trap him in the act, to defy him, to hit him, and finally to remove the dagger he had punched in your lungs.

You were going to free yourself from a world of dirty lies you and Dwight had created to free yourselves from old flames that didn’t allow you to advance, but you had loved and respected him, even when he left you in the dark.

Like everybody else, you thought.

There was always someone better—someone to run to, someone to love—but it was never you.

You were the one left in ruins, playing hide and seek, alone, and crying.

All the negative thoughts running through your head stopped the minute Dwight parked the car in a pretty nice house, where he had been playing doll house with another woman and another child.

You parked the car a discreet distance away from where Dwight had entered, and your hands were still trembling as you sat there, grappling with the maelstrom of emotions tearing through your heart.

It seemed like this city was cursed.

The seconds stretched into minutes as you contemplated your next move. The desire for confrontation warred with the awareness that once you stepped into the world Dwight had kept hidden from you, there would be no going back. The flames of anger fueled your decision, and with a deep breath, you stepped out of the car, your eyes focused on the battle field ahead.

Your heartbeat echoed in your ears. Each step you took meant facing the piece of the puzzle that had been kept hidden from you. The heavy weight of treason on your shoulders and pain and rage fueled your mind.

Finally, you reached the door that seemed to hold the answers you sought. The muffled sounds from within hinted at a world you had been excluded from. Your hand trembled as you reached for the piece of wood, and with a deep breath, you knocked at the door, waiting for the revelation.

The door creaked open, revealing a woman with a warm smile on her face. She was oblivious to the fury that raged within you. Her innocence seemed to contrast sharply with the treason that broke your ego. The smile faltered slightly as she took in the tear-streaked face and red eyes.

"Hi there, can I help you?" she asked, her tone friendly but tinged with concern.

Your eyes scanned her face with astonishment and disbelief. How could she be so unaware of the man she was with? Your gaze shifted, and that's when you saw the little girl, no more than four years old, happily playing in the living room.

The contrast hit you like a ton of bricks. The image of Dwight playing the role of a loving father to this child felt like a betrayal on a whole new level, taking you to the very exact moment he stopped playing with Tara, the moment he stopped acting like a father to her. You struggled to find words; your voice was caught in the turmoil of emotions.

"I... I need to talk to Dwight," you managed to say, your voice raw and trembling.

The woman's smile faded, replaced by a look of confusion. "Dwight? You must be mistaken. There's no one here by that name."

Your heart skipped a beat. Could you have been wrong? Was this not the place you thought it was? Doubt crept in, but then you heard a familiar voice from within the house, calling the little girl's name.

"Daddy!"

Your breath caught in your throat as Dwight appeared in the doorway, his expression shifting from surprise to shock at the sight of you standing there.

"What are you doing here?" he stammered, his attempt at feigning innocence falling apart.

The reality unfolded before you, and the pieces of the puzzle finally clicked into place. The woman beside him, the child, the house—it was all part of a life Dwight had been living behind your back. Your hands clenched into fists as anger and hurt surged through you.

"Who is she, Dwight?" you demanded, your voice a mixture of pain and anger.

He hesitated for a moment; the guilt was written all over his face. The woman beside him looked from you to Dwight, realization dawning on her.

"Daddy, who is she?" the little girl asked, confusion in her innocent eyes.

Dwight stammered, struggling to find words that could undo the mess he had created. The silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the distant sounds of the little girl's toys.

“Elisa, please take Emma to her room,” Dwight said for the first time.

The woman, apparently named Elisa, took a step back, her eyes flickering between you and Dwight. She gently guided the little girl, Emma, away, leaving you and Dwight in a charged atmosphere.

The weight of the betrayal settled over the room, and you couldn't hold back the torrent of emotions any longer. Your gaze bore into Dwight's, demanding an explanation that might never suffice.

"What is this, Dwight?" you questioned, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and heartbreak. "How long has this been going on?"

Dwight avoided eye contact; his guilt was evident. "It's complicated," he muttered, a feeble attempt to justify his actions.

"Complicated?" you scoffed, bitterness tainting your words. "So, you accidentally had a daughter with another woman?”

“I can explain,” he said, reaching for you, but you stepped back.

“You made Tara and I move here because you wanted to be with her, didn’t you?” The realization hit you like a punch to the gut, and anger surged through your veins.

“I thought it was the best for us and for you,” he stammered, his excuses sounding feeble and hollow.

“For us? Or for you and your secret family?” Your voice rose, a mix of betrayal and anger coloring your words.

Dwight’s eyes darted from you to the ground, realizing the depth of the mess he had created. The room felt heavy with the weight of shattered trust and broken promises.

When no more words came from his lips, you turned to leave. Dwight's desperate plea echoed in the background. "Please, let me explain."

“I don’t want your damn explanations, Dwight. I want a divorce.”

As the weight of your decision hung in the air, Dwight's face contorted with a mix of desperation and regret. The word "divorce" hit him like a cold, hard truth, a consequence of the choices he had made. The room seemed to close in around him as he grappled with the reality of losing the life he had taken for granted.

He grabbed you by the arm with such force that it almost fell from your shoulder, stopping you from getting into the car.

“Love, please, let's talk about this. We can work things out," Dwight pleaded, his voice a desperate attempt to salvage the unraveling threads of your marriage.

You pulled your arm away, resentment etched on your face. "There's nothing left to talk about, Dwight. You made your choices, and now I'm making mine. There’s no way I’m staying with you after this.”

But for him, this couldn’t be the end; this couldn’t be the end that his so-perfect family on the outside was done.

“This just suits you well, right?” He asked, with a bitter taste on his tongue, “Now you will run to Joel.”

Your jaw clenched at Dwight's accusation. The bitterness in his words stung, but you knew that responding with anger would only prolong the pain and the fury rustling your bones. With a heavy sigh, you looked at him.

"This has nothing to do with Joel," you stated firmly, your voice devoid of the emotions that churned within. "This is about us, about what you did. I won't stay in a marriage built on lies."

“Oh, but it was made of lies!” he exclaimed, now fury corroding him. “Do you think it didn’t hurt me to now you would never love me the way you loved him”

Your patience was wearing thin, and Dwight's attempts to deflect blame onto Joel only fueled your frustration. "Stop trying to shift the blame, Dwight," you retorted, your voice sharp. "This is about your choices, not Joel. Our marriage was broken long before Joel came back into the picture."

You started the car, determined to put distance between yourself and the wreckage of your marriage, from Dwight and his venom, and as you drove away, the weight of the truth settled on your shoulders, and the road ahead seemed both daunting and full of uncertainties.

“Hey, why aren’t you coming back to work?”

2:30 p.m

“Come on, Doe where are you?”

2:35 p.m

“Doe, seriously I’m getting worried.”

2:45 p.m

“If you don’t come back, I’m coming to your house.”

3:00 p.m

Oh Joel, sweet Joel, you thought as his messages popping up on your screen, yet you didn’t answer, not finding the strength to even take your phone a put effort on making up a lie. You wanted distance, silence and peace.

You were sitting on the couch, looking around your house, and it felt so cold to be on your own, alone, humiliated and sad. Your tears had almost run out, your face felt tainted with the salty taste of your own sadness.

You knew you weren’t innocent. You had been taunted with the could’ve been with Joel, with a flame that tainted your life with a dark blue because there will never going to be something like that, someone like him.

Back when you found yourself with your back against the wall, kissing the lips of Dwight, your wound was open and you allowed the fire sparks enter to your, blind hoping for the care of a man again, you allow the hollow eyes of Dwight find yours in that desperate need for something.

But after time, those eyes didn’t look at you with love, there was no spark or adoration on them just the used of company, and you killed each other by no loving each other enough.

But now, you felt lifeless and ashamed of what you had chose for yourself. Honesty felt so cruel because was tearing you apart, and it felt particularly cruel because it was a reminder of how you were never enough to anybody.

"Mom, what happened? Why are you crying?" Tara asked when she stepped into the house, coming back from school.

You didn’t even notice the sound of the door being closed, just the touch of your concerned daughter touching your shoulder as a source of comfort.

You tried to compose yourself, wiping away the tears that had escaped. "It's nothing, sweetheart. Just a tough day."

Tara, ever perceptive, wasn't easily convinced. She approached you, her eyes searching yours for an honest answer. "Mom, I know something's wrong. You can talk to me."

The vulnerability in Tara's voice tugged at your heart, and you realized that keeping everything bottled up was affecting not only you but your daughter as well. The cruel truth was going to see the light of the day, but you weren’t going to be the one taking responsibility for Dwight’s actions. Taking a deep breath, you look at Tara, inviting her to sit next to you.

"It's about your father and me," you began, choosing your words carefully. “I’m divorcing your father.”

Tara's eyes widened, a mix of shock and sadness flickering across her face. “What? Why?”

You sighed, grappling with the difficulty of explaining the complexities of adult relationships to your daughter. "Sometimes, adults face challenges, and they make choices that hurt others. Your father and I have reached a point where we need to go our separate ways."

Tara's gaze remained fixed on you, absorbing the weight of your words, and before she could say something, the sound of the door opening made you turn your attention, and there stood Dwight, his face desperate and fearing the worst once he took the image in front of him. The tears on your face and Tara’s expression.

"Why are you telling her?" Dwight burst out, his voice edged with anger. "She's just a kid!"

You shot him a stern look, defending your decision. "She deserves to know the truth, Dwight. It's not fair to keep her in the dark about what's happening in our family."

Tara looked between the two of you, her eyes wide with confusion and concern. "Dad, what's going on?"

Dwight's frustration escalated, and he glared at you. "You're poisoning her mind against me, making me the villain in this."

Tara's expression morphed into sadness and disappointment as she looked at her father. "Dad, just tell me the truth. What's happening?"

Dwight hesitated, realizing that the truth was inevitable. "We're having some problems, Tara. Your mom and I are trying to figure things out."

“Stop lying and act like a fucking man!” You exclaimed, frustrated by this situation. “I’ll go upstairs, and when I came back here, you must have told her the truth.” Your determination changed something in Dwight’s expression.

You went upstairs, leaving Dwight and Tara alone in the living room. The weight of the situation lingered in the air as you ascended the staircase, knowing that the inevitable truth would surface. Tara was going to suffer, and Dwight had to face the consequences of his actions and confront the reality of his choices.

As you reached the top of the stairs, you couldn't help but sob. There was anger and fury rustling your emotions. But amidst it all, there was concern for Tara; you had to be strong for her and act as an adult.

While you took a moment to collect yourself in your room, downstairs, Tara pressed Dwight for answers, her young eyes searching for clarity in the chaos.

"Dad, what's really going on?" Tara asked with urgency in her voice.

Dwight, cornered by the truth, took a deep breath before responding, "Your mom and I have been having problems for a while. We're trying to figure things out, but she is making it complicated."

Tara frowned, sensing the weight of his father’s lies. For her, you were a victim of a bad love story. "Is it because of another woman?"

Dwight hesitated, his eyes avoiding direct contact with Tara's gaze. "It's more complicated than that."

“What could it be more complicated than cheating on my mom?” She questioned, raising her eyebrows. "You're trash, dad. How could you do this to Mom? To us?" she demanded, her eyes filled with a maturity that exceeded her thirteen years old.

"I messed up, Tara," Dwight admitted, his voice carrying the weight of regret. "I made some wrong choices.”

Tara's expression hardened with evident disappointment. "I can't believe you would do this to her.”

"Tara,” he whispered, but she had already left the living room.

The tension seemed to be haunting the entire house; a breathing, tainted air of unfaithful lies suffocated you, passing back and forth inside the room, fitting all the pain inside.

Dwight retreated to the bedroom without closing the door behind him. You took some distance from him, creating an emotional barrier between you and your soon-to-be ex-husband.

You were there by the door, like you were just a kid facing the anger of a mad father.

“I suppose you’re happy with what you caused." Dwight spitted, turning the blame on you: “Tara calls me trash, trash! I’m his father, for fuck’s sake.”

“Perhaps she saw the truth behind your pretty face.” Your voice, so insensitive yet fueled by disappointment, threatened to cause a fire with each word you threw against him. “I can’t believe you’re blaming me for what you did.”

Dwight, torn between guilt and the remnants of his wounded pride, attempted to justify his actions. "It's not that simple, okay? Things have been complicated, and I made mistakes."

“Having a daughter with another woman and having a secret family is not a mistake but a choice,” you shot back, your patience wearing thin.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I never meant for it to get this far. It just happened."

“What would your little girl say if she could hear you calling her a mistake, Dwight?” anger bubbling within you."

His expression shifted from defensiveness to frustration. "I get it, okay? I messed up, but you don't have to make this any more difficult than it already is."

"You've shattered our family, Dwight. Tara deserves better than this." As always, you were putting your daughter before yourself.

“She does, but you don't,” he shot back. “You never loved me. How do you think I felt all this time when I woke up to you looking at pictures from your past, from your lover?” Dwight's frustration escalated, and he paced around the room, his hands running through his hair in a display of exasperation. "You never loved me. You were always stuck in the past. How do you think that made me feel?"

Your jaw clenched, and your eyes narrowed at Dwight's attempt to turn the tables on you. "This is not about me and Joel! I didn’t see you until that day Tara got that problem at school.”

“I don’t care! I got tired of you, and I found a woman who cared about me.”

"What I even was to you, Dwight?" You questioned, and your voice broke at the hurt and the feeling of being a small kid being threatened. The room, still echoing with the remnants of the heated argument, seemed to punish you.

Dwight's face contorted with a combination of emotions, from defensiveness to guilt, and a lingering pride that fueled his attempts to justify his actions. "You were supposed to be my wife, the mother of my child. But all you cared about was your past and that guy, and I was the man you found a way to fill that void inside you."

"Then why are you here?" you asked, the pain and confusion evident in your voice. The room felt like a battleground of dirty, shattered lies and promises.

Dwight hesitated, a fleeting moment of uncertainty crossing his face. "I thought I could have both. I thought I could keep you and have this other life."

Your incredulous gaze met his, who stood silently, looking at you for some answer, perhaps a beg.

"You can't have it all, Dwight," you asserted, your tone firm. "Life doesn't work that way. Choices have consequences."

Then there was silence, and silence is the most devasting sound when you can’t repair the damage. There was no need for more words, not more fights.

“I’ll stay in this house until I find a place to stay, then you can come and live with your new wife and daughter.”

You made a move to leave the room, to find solace elsewhere, away from the chaos Dwight had unleashed upon your lives.

But Dwight, desperate and unwilling to accept the consequences, blocked your path. "You're not going anywhere. We need to talk about this."

Frustration boiled within you again, and you pushed against Dwight's attempt to keep you in the room. "It’s over, Dwight.”

“You’re my wife,” he said, tightening his grip on your arm with such anger in his eyes. "You can't just walk away. We're married, damn it!"

Your eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and fear. "Marriage is built on trust, Dwight, and you shattered that trust. You made your choices, and now you have to live with the consequences."

The struggle for dominance continued, both emotionally and physically, as Dwight refused to release his hold on you. In that moment, the facade of the once-happy family crumbled, revealing the ugly truth beneath.

You closed your eyes in instinct, waiting for the hard touch of his hand on your face, but all you felt was the loosening of Dwight’s strong grip on your arm, and when you opened your eyes again, there was Joel between you and the man who had caused so much pain. There was an unspoken anger in Joel’s eyes; he would not stand by and let anyone harm you.

"If you ever think of it, put a finger on her, and I will smack your face," Joel warned, his voice firm.

Dwight laughed at Joel’s attitude, finding it both amusing and offensive. “Do you really think I was going to hurt her?”

Joel's jaw tightened at Dwight's dismissive laughter. The air in the room crackled with tension, and the weight of the betrayal you had just experienced hung heavy in the atmosphere.

"I've seen enough to know you're capable of causing harm," Joel retorted, his voice laced with restrained anger. The lines were etched on his face.

“Are you going to say something?” Dwight asked towards you, ignoring Joel.

You took a deep breath, your eyes meeting Dwight's with hurt. "It's over, Dwight. There's nothing more to say. We're done."

Dwight's face contorted with a mix of frustration and regret. He seemed to be torn between attempting to salvage what was left and accepting the consequences of his actions.

Joel, still standing protectively in front of you, spoke up with a calm yet firm tone. "She's made her decision. Leave.”

Dwight, feeling the weight of defeat, left the room with a resentful glance, muttering under his breath. "Enjoy it while you can. The only reason I’m behaving is because Tara is the house.”

Joel's jaw clenched, and a flicker of anger danced in his eyes, but he held his composure. He didn't want to escalate the situation further. Instead, he focused on you.

Once Dwight left the bedroom, your only thought was Tara. “Where is Tara?” You asked mostly to yourself than Joel.

"Relax; she is in my truck. She is fine,” he assured, gently stroking his thumbs on your shoulders.

Joel's reassuring words offered a momentary comfort. The weight of the newfound truth was heavily on your shoulders, and your concern for Tara fueled your urgency.

"Why are you here?" you asked, this time finding Joel's gaze.

He sighed, the weight of the situation evident in his eyes. "I came here because you didn't answer my messages or calls. I was worried about you, Doe. Something felt off."

Gratitude and regret were displayed on your face as the events of the day settled in. "I didn't want to involve you in this mess."

Joel shook his head, his expression softening. "Doe, what happened?”

But instead of words, a sob escaped from your lips. Finding solace in Joel’s presence made your feelings overwhelm you. Joel pulled you into a comforting embrace, allowing the tears to flow freely.

“Dwight was cheating on me, Joel. He had another family,” you mumbled on his shoulder. The crumbling of your marriage and the betrayal you experienced all poured out in that moment.

"I'm here for you, Doe," Joel whispered, his voice a soothing presence in the midst of chaos. "You don't have to face this alone."

As the sobs subsided, you pulled away, wiping away the tears, and your gazes connected.

Joel's gaze held a mixture of concern and empathy. He brushed a strand of hair away from your face; his touch was gentle and reassuring. "I'm so sorry you're going through this, Doe. You don't deserve any of it."

The vulnerability in that moment deepened the connection between you and Joel. Despite the years that had passed, the emotional intimacy you once shared resurfaced. His thumb traced a soft pattern on your cheek.

“I don’t want to sleep here,” you roared, hugging Joel tightly.

“You won't,” he said, kissing your temple. “You and Tara can stay with me tonight.”

Joel held you in his arms, offering the missing warmth from your life, feeling like a roof in the middle of a storm. The weight of the pain and betrayal you had just experienced slowly eased as he whispered reassurances. "You won't have to go through this alone, Doe. I'm here for you, whatever you need."

It was almost summer; holidays were coming, and you felt brave enough to make confessions of love. There was a guy from school, and you were convinced that he reciprocated your feelings. The anticipation of young love and the butterflies in your stomach didn’t lie. As you mustered the courage to confess your feelings, reality unfolded in a way you hadn't expected.

That guy made fun of you in front of everyone, leaving you with shame.

In the quiet corner of the park, where Joel and you often hang out, you poured your heart out to Joel. The guy you liked had not only rejected your feelings but did so in a cruel manner, making a public spectacle of them.

By this time, both of you were sixteen, and Joel felt the weight of your pain. Although he had been secretly developing feelings for you, his priority was to shield you from unnecessary hurt. In that moment of heartbreak, he became your protector.

With a protective arm around your shoulders, Joel offered a comforting presence, his own heart silently breaking at the sight of your tears. He didn't utter words of love, not wanting to complicate an already painful situation, but his actions spoke louder. Joel stood between you and the judgmental eyes of your peers, ensuring that you wouldn't face the humiliation alone.

"You deserve someone who sees how amazing you are, Doe. That guy doesn't know what he's missing."

It’s me who can see through you.

The evening settled into a quiet calmness as the memories of the tumultuous day began to fade. The soft glow of dim lights in Joel's house created a comforting atmosphere, providing solace in the midst of the storm.

Joel, always caring for your emotions, approached you gently. "Sarah and Tara fell asleep," he informed, his voice a soothing murmur. "Do you want to share a glass of wine? It might help ease the weight of the day."

You nodded, appreciating the offer of a small respite. Following Joel to the cozy living room, you found solace in the warm ambiance of a place that felt like home. The flickering candles cast dancing shadows on the walls, creating a sense of intimacy that contrasted with the chaos you brought with you.

As Joel poured the wine, you couldn't help but reflect on the unexpected turn your life had taken. The comfort of friendship, which had evolved into something deeper again, provided a steady anchor in the storm. Joel handed you a glass, his eyes reflecting concern for you.

"To resilience," he proposed, raising his glass in a silent toast.

You reciprocated, clinking the glasses with a small smile on your face. The velvety red wine offered a taste of familiarity, a reminder that amidst the chaos, there were still constants in your life.

"It's funny how life works, isn't it? That we found each other again." You began, breaking the silence.

Joel nodded, his gaze unwavering. "I never stopped caring about you, Doe. Even when we were apart, there was always this connection that transcended time and distance. I guess our bond is meant to be."

As you shared the stories of your personal lives without each other for the last few years, the unspoken truth lingered in the air—the bond between you and Joel was more than the forceful friendship you were trying to recover; there was something else still taunting the beating of your hearts when you were together. It was a connection that had weathered the storms of life—an invisible thread woven your paths together.

"You were there for me, and I didn’t fight for you that night,” Joel admitted, his voice carrying the weight of his regret. "And, truth be told, I never really got over you."

The weight of Joel's confession hung in the air. He had already told you that he still loved you, but this time, his admission felt personal, opening a door to a realm of emotions that had long been kept at bay.

You looked into Joel's eyes, a mixture of surprise and realization flickering in your gaze. The atmosphere seemed to shift, the quiet acknowledgment of a shared history merging with the present.

Perhaps a second chance.

There you were, after years of the night you left the house, you both shared the confession of love you waited to hear the most—the regret and the sadness. In the soft glow of candlelight, Joel's expression mirrored the vulnerability you felt. The unspoken emotions hung between you, bridging the gap of time and space that had kept your hearts apart. The weight of his words lingered, unraveling the layers of history and emotions that had shaped your lives.

"I always wondered what could have been," Joel admitted, his gaze unwavering.

As the weight of unspoken confessions hung in the air, you felt a surge of emotions pushing you to bridge the gap that had separated you and Joel for so long. The vulnerability of the moment, the shared history, and the admission of lingering feelings created a magnetic pull you couldn’t ignore.

With no rings and no faithful promises to keep with another man, you felt free.

Leaning in, you found yourself drawn to Joel, a longing that transcended the years apart. The soft glow of candlelight flickered in the room, casting a warm ambiance on the faces of two souls entwined and meant to be together again.

As you looked at him, you got lost in the dark starry universe his gaze held, the stars and constellations written the words he didn’t say to you in the past, and without a warning, you leaned in, but for your surprise and also shame, Joel pulled back, eyes wide, mouth open.

Oh.

“Oh god,” you said, holding your tears and face behind your sacred palms, hiding from the cruel joke you felt toward the world today.

"I can't, Doe," Joel whispered, his voice carrying a sense of restraint. His gaze, though filled with a depth of emotion, conveyed a silent plea for understanding.

Confusion and a tinge of hurt flickered in your eyes as you retreated, the space between you now feeling deeper than ever before.

"I understand," you murmured, a faint smile attempting to mask the disappointment that lingered beneath the surface.

Joel watched you, his heart heavy with a mix of regret and a profound desire to ease the pain that etched your features. But Joel wanted to kiss you and worship every single inch of you, but he wasn’t able to give in under your state, yet he was so vulnerable, and a deep ache settled in his chest. He wanted to be the solace you needed, but the weight of the moment and the chaos of the day made him hesitate.

He didn’t want to take advantage of you.

"I want to be there for you, Doe," Joel said softly, reaching out to gently touch your shoulder. "But not like this. You deserve more than a rushed moment in the midst of all this chaos."

His words carried a sincerity that echoed in the quiet room. Joel had waited years to express his feelings, and now, with the universe conspiring against both of you, the timing felt painfully wrong.

You lowered your hands, meeting Joel's gaze with a mixture of gratitude and a silent acknowledgment of the complexities that surrounded you. The connection you shared held a delicate balance.

“I’ll go to sleep,” you said, feeling the exhaustion that permeated every fiber of your being. The weight of the day, the end of your marriage, and the nice words of Joel.

“Goodnight, Doe," Joel said, his voice a soothing presence.

You nodded and said, "Goodnight, Joel.”

++++

Upstairs, unbeknownst to you and Joel, Sara and Tara huddled together, peeking from upstairs, watching the scene unfold in the living room. The girls exchanged concerned glances, sensing the gravity of the situation.

"Dad is such an idiot," Sarah whispered to Tara, her young eyes wide with frustration.

Tara nodded in agreement, her own eyes reflecting on the events of today.

Sarah leaned in closer, her mind buzzing with an idea. "We should do something to help your mom and my dad be together again.”

Tara's eyes lit up with curiosity. "Like what?"

A mischievous grin formed on Sara's face. "We'll be matchmakers! We'll get them together. They obviously still love each other, and it's about time someone did something."

Tara hesitated, glancing back at the living room, where you had just retreated. "But won't your dad be mad?"

Sara shook her head. "Of course not; he would have his girl back."

tags 💌: @joeldjarin @missladym1981 @yomiyasxx @aliengirl99

@lola8888673 @nottodaysattan @picketniffler @violinchick

@sadgirlcheesecake @caitlynsixxx @luvwanda @sarahhxx03

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eveninggstar · 29 days

Text

taste ⊹ ࣪ ˖

lando norris x celeb!ex!reader

28.08.24

୨ৎLando’s girlfriend finds herself constantly measuring herself against you, unable to escape the shadow of your presence in every interaction she has with him since their reconciliation. Every moment they share together is tainted by her preoccupation with you, as she struggles with the lingering comparisons and the haunting feeling that you’re always a part of their relationship.

i might make another one of these (not a lando one tho) more based on the music video but i love this so much <3

(also there isnt much lando x reader its more so julie-the girlfriend- losing her mind this is 3k words btw longs thing ive posted im pretty sure)

୨ৎ back one page ୨ৎ back two pages

Julie’s voice echoed from Lando’s bedroom as she rummaged through his closet. "Hey, Lando, where did your brown hoodie go?"

Lando, halfway through rifling the fridge for his meal prep, paused, raising an eyebrow. "Which one? I’ve got a ton of brown hoodies," he called back, finally grabbing a yogurt and tearing off the lid.

Julie appeared in the doorway, holding a hoodie up to inspect it. "Its just plain brown. I think you wore it for the chicken shop date thing?"

Lando froze, spoon mid-air, his eyes widening in recognition. The hoodie. The one you had practically claimed as your own during your time together. He could vividly remember the countless times you’d thrown it on, the sleeves always a little too long on you, but it became your favourite because it smelled like him. He cursed under his breath. "Son of a—"

Julie’s brow furrowed. "What?"

"Nothing, just... yogurt," Lando muttered, quickly shovelling a spoonful into his mouth to avoid further questions. But his mind was miles away, back to the days when you two were inseparable.

The buzz around the Grand Prix was electric, but as usual, social media had its own storm brewing. While Lando and Julie were busy with pre-race activities at the track, a new post began circulating online, quickly capturing everyone’s attention.

A fan had snapped a picture of you at the airport, casually dressed in leggings, sneakers, and a brown hoodie that was instantly recognizable to anyone who followed Lando Norris. It wasn’t just any brown hoodie—it was his brown hoodie from the video that everyone was complementing his boyfriend skills, the one that had become almost iconic. The photo showed you standing by the gate, luggage in hand, seemingly unaware of the stir you were causing.

Within minutes, the photo was everywhere. "is lando and y/n back together?" one tweet read, followed by countless others speculating about whether you and Lando were back together. "They must be seeing each other again. Why else would she have his hoodie?" someone commented, adding fuel to the fire.

Back at the GP, Julie was enjoying the day, blissfully unaware of the online frenzy. She and Lando had been photographed together several times, looking every bit the happy couple. But as she scrolled through her phone in between sessions, her smile faded. Her notifications were blowing up—fans tagging her, sending messages, and most of all, sharing that airport photo of you.

Her heart dropped as she recognized the hoodie immediately. There was no mistaking it. Lando had worn it countless times, and now, there you were, casually wearing it in public like it was yours. It was supposed to be her hoodie. She wanted to wear it, yet here you were strutting with it slinged on.

Julie’s mind raced with jealousy and frustration. She knew that you and Lando had a history, but this felt like a public reminder of something she couldn’t quite shake—a connection that still lingered between the two of you. People were already speculating that you and Lando were rekindling your romance, and the thought of it made her stomach churn.

Without thinking, Julie opened her camera roll and found a picture from earlier that morning. Both of them smiling with his arm draped around her shoulders. She quickly uploaded it to Instagram.

julie's inatagram

tagged: landonorris

liked by others

julie.love My forever ❤️

The post was live within seconds, and as the likes and comments started rolling in, Julie felt a brief sense of control. "You two are so perfect together!" someone commented. "Lando and Julie forever!" another wrote. But no matter how many compliments she received, the uneasy feeling in her gut remained.

Lando, on the other hand, was caught off guard when his teammate showed him the airport photo of you. "Hey, mate, isn’t this your hoodie?" they asked with a grin. Lando stared at the screen, a mix of surprise and nostalgia washing over him.

Neither of you had given any clothes back. It wasn't an agreement that you would go back to each other. Nothing like that. The pair of you were just too busy to drop the clothes off, mutually agreeing just keep them or get rid of them. However it reminded him of how intertwined your lives had been, and how some things, like that hoodie, had slipped through the cracks.

When Lando later saw Julie’s post, he felt a pang of guilt. He knew it was more than just a cute couple picture—it was a reaction, a way to claim him in the face of rumors and speculations. But even as he stood next to Julie, smiling for the cameras, he couldn’t help but feel the pull of the past, and the complications it brought into his present.

Julie’s post might have been an attempt to silence the rumours, but the truth was that the sight of you in his hoodie had stirred up more than just gossip. It was a reminder that some connections aren’t easily broken, and no matter how much time passes, there are pieces of the past that linger—no matter how hard you try to move on.

The night had settled quietly over the city, the noise of the race weekend fading into the background. Lando and Julie were lying in bed, the soft hum of the air conditioner the only sound in the room. Lando had drifted off quickly, his breathing steady and calm, completely relaxed after a long day at the track.

But Julie couldn’t sleep. She lay on her side, facing Lando, her thoughts racing. She stared at his peaceful face, the dim light from the street outside casting soft shadows across his features. He looked content, his usual easy smile tugging at the corners of his lips even in sleep. It was a sight that usually brought her comfort, but tonight, it only made the knot in her stomach tighten.

Julie’s mind was consumed with thoughts of you—your face, the hoodie, the way you seemed to still have a hold on parts of Lando that she couldn’t reach. She kept replaying the image of you at the airport, casually wearing his hoodie as if it were nothing, as if it didn’t mean something.

She wondered if Lando had thought about you at all when he saw the photo earlier, or if he had truly dismissed it as easily as he’d said he did. He had brushed off the rumors, laughing them away, saying it was just a hoodie, nothing more. But Julie couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something lingering beneath the surface.

As she lay there, watching Lando sleep, her heart ached with insecurity. She wondered if, even in his dreams, he was thinking of you. Did his mind wander back to the memories you shared, to the jokes and the late-night conversations that were once his world? Was there a part of him that still longed for what you had, even if he would never admit it?

Julie wanted to reach out, to touch his face, to reassure herself that he was hers, but her hand hesitated. The thought of you, still a presence in his life, made her doubt the closeness they shared. It felt like a shadow, something she couldn’t compete with, no matter how hard she tried.

She sighed softly, trying to push the thoughts away, but they lingered like a stubborn cloud, refusing to clear. Julie knew Lando loved her—he showed it in so many ways—but the fear of what he might still feel for you gnawed at her, making her question everything.

As Lando shifted slightly in his sleep, murmuring something unintelligible, Julie’s breath caught. Was he dreaming of you? Or was it just her own fears playing tricks on her? She closed her eyes, willing herself to believe that he was dreaming of nothing at all, that his mind was as peaceful as his expression.

But as she lay there, restless and wide awake, Julie couldn’t shake the haunting thought that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t the only one thinking about you tonight.

It was a lazy afternoon at the hotel, with Lando and Julie lounging on the balcony, enjoying the view of the bustling city below. Julie leaned back in her chair, sipping on a cool drink, and looked over at Lando with a playful smile. "If you could do one crazy thing right now, what would it be?" she asked, curious to hear his answer.

Lando paused for a moment, thinking it over. A mischievous grin spread across his face as he replied, "I want to jump off a cliff into the ocean. I’ve never done that before."

Julie blinked in surprise, then burst into laughter. "What? Where did that come from?"

Lando laughed along with her. "It just sounds like a rush, doesn’t it? Plus, it’s one of those things you’ve got to try at least once."

Julie shook her head, still chuckling. "You're so weird sometimes."

Lando shrugged with a grin, enjoying the lighthearted moment. "Hey, there’s a first time for everything."

They spent the rest of the afternoon together, enjoying each other’s company, but as the day wore on, Julie found herself thinking about Lando’s unexpected response. It wasn’t that the idea of cliff diving was so out of character—Lando was always up for an adventure—but it was the way he said it, with a humor and boldness that seemed a little different from his usual demeanor.

Later that evening, back at the hotel, Julie was scrolling through TikTok while Lando was in the shower. As she mindlessly flipped through videos, one caught her attention. It was a compilation of funny moments from various celebrities, and the first clip was of you. The video showed you laughing, full of energy, as you spoke into the camera.

"If I could do anything right now, I’d totally jump off a cliff into the ocean," you said with a playful grin. "I’ve never done it before, and I’m kind of scared, but also, it’s on my bucket list. Who’s with me?"

Julie’s laughter died in her throat as she watched. Her stomach twisted as she realized that Lando’s earlier comment wasn’t just a random thought—it was something he had picked up from you. The way you said it, with that same mix of humor and excitement, was almost identical to how Lando had phrased it.

She put her phone down, her mind racing. The connection was too clear to ignore. You were still influencing him, whether Lando realized it or not. It wasn’t just in the big things, but in the small, subtle ways that you had left a mark on him.

Julie glanced toward the bathroom, where the sound of the shower running echoed through the room. She felt a pang of insecurity, wondering if she would always be competing with the ghost of you—your humor, your quirks, the pieces of you that had woven themselves into Lando’s life and stayed there, even after you were gone.

As Lando emerged from the bathroom, toweling off his hair with that familiar, carefree smile, Julie tried to push the thoughts away. She didn’t want to spoil the moment or let her doubts show. But as she forced a smile, she couldn’t help but feel that your presence was still very much there, lingering between them, even now.

The night was alive with celebration. The pulsating beat of the music, the vibrant lights flashing across the packed dance floor, and the electric energy of the crowd all mixed together in a whirlwind of excitement. All of the drivers were having a night out in Monaco. Julie clung to Lando's side, basking in his happiness, proud and exhilarated. The night felt perfect, almost surreal.

As the night wore on, Julie excused herself to the bathroom, weaving through the crowd and slipping past the velvet ropes into the dimly lit hallway. The bathroom was a sanctuary from the chaos outside, quieter but still buzzing with the distant thump of the music.

Julie washed her hands, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She smiled to herself, thinking about Lando, how far he’d come, and how good they looked together tonight. She was about to turn the tap off when she felt a presence behind her, someone stepping close enough to brush against her.

Julie froze, her breath catching in her throat. Slowly, she looked up into the mirror and saw you standing directly behind her, your reflection clear as day. Your eyes locked onto hers through the glass, and a sly, knowing smile played on your lips.

Before Julie could react, you leaned in closer, your breath warm against her ear as you whispered, "Every time you close your eyes and feel his lips, you're feelin' mine. And every time you breathe his air, just know I was already there."

Julie’s heart pounded in her chest, her pulse echoing in her ears. She wanted to move, to say something, but she was rooted to the spot, mesmerized and terrified by your presence.

You continued, your voice soft but laced with a sharp edge, "You can have him if you like. I've been there, done that once or twice. And talkin' 'bout it don't mean I care. Yeah, I know I've been known to share."

As soon as the last word left your lips, Julie snapped out of her daze. She spun around, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. But the bathroom was empty. You were gone—vanished as if you had never been there at all.

Julie’s eyes darted around the small space, her hands trembling as she clutched the edge of the sink. Was it real? Had you actually been there, or was it some twisted trick of her mind? The encounter had felt so vivid, so real, but now she was alone, the silence of the bathroom pressing in around her.

She quickly turned back to the mirror, half-expecting to see you again, but there was nothing—just her own wide-eyed reflection staring back at her. The words you had whispered echoed in her mind, taunting her, making her question everything.

Julie took a shaky breath, trying to steady herself, but the unease wouldn’t leave her. She felt as though your presence had left a mark, something intangible yet undeniable, a reminder that no matter how much she tried to hold onto Lando, your shadow was always there, lurking in the corners of her mind.

Fighting back a wave of panic, Julie hurried out of the bathroom, back into the noisy, crowded club. She pushed through the throngs of people until she found Lando again, his carefree smile and bright eyes a stark contrast to the turmoil swirling inside her.

He pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her waist, and she tried to lose herself in the music, in the celebration. But no matter how hard she tried to shake it off, the memory of your words stayed with her, haunting her, and making her wonder if she would ever truly have him to herself.

The paddock was alive with the vibrant energy of race day at Zandvoort. The excitement was palpable as Lando prepared for his race, surrounded by cameras, fans, and a sea of media. Julie stood close to Lando, trying to stay calm amidst the chaos. She had been eagerly supporting him all weekend, but today, her nerves were frayed.

As Lando was about to enter the garage, he turned to Julie, pulling her into an embrace. “Hey, kiss of well done?” he asked with a soft smile, his voice barely audible over the ambient noise.

Julie managed a smile, trying to focus on the positive. “Well done,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him. It was supposed to be a sweet moment after the race, a brief respite from the frenzy surrounding them.

But as their lips met, Julie’s perception shifted abruptly. The kiss, the closeness, the sensation—it felt strangely familiar, as if she were kissing someone else entirely. A cold shiver of panic raced through her, and in her mind, it wasn’t Lando she was kissing, but you.

Her eyes flew open, and the illusion was enough to send her into a spiral of distress. She pulled away from Lando, her fear manifesting in her voice. “Get away from me!” she screamed, her voice trembling with a mix of terror and anger. “Leave me alone, Y/N! Just leave me alone!”

The scene erupted into stunned silence as Julie’s outburst pierced through the crowd. The media, the fans, and even Lando looked on in shock. Julie’s face was flushed, her eyes wide with fear as she backed away from Lando, who looked utterly bewildered.

As Julie’s panic peaked, she turned and fled, running frantically through the paddock. Her eyes were clouded with tears, her breath coming in ragged gasps. In her haste, she collided hard with someone coming from the opposite direction.

It was you.

The shock of seeing you, the very person she thought she had just escaped, standing right in front of her, sent a fresh wave of terror coursing through her. "No! Get away from me!" Julie screamed again, her voice cracking as she staggered back, her eyes wide with fear. The panic in her voice echoed through the paddock, drawing even more attention as people turned to see what was happening.

You stood there, frozen in shock, your eyes locking with hers. You hadn’t done anything—you were just walking past as a guest of Mercedes, on your way to their hospitality area. But the intensity of Julie’s reaction left you momentarily speechless.

"Julie!" Lando’s voice cut through the chaos as he rushed over, his concern etched on his face. He reached out for her, but Julie was already spinning around, desperate to escape. She shoved past him and the onlookers, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she ran, trying to get away from the ghost she believed was haunting her.

As Julie disappeared into the crowd, the paddock buzzed with murmurs and confused glances. The cameras that had been trained on Lando’s celebratory moment now captured a scene of utter chaos and confusion.

Lando looked up, his eyes meeting yours across the paddock. His face was a mix of confusion, concern, and something else—something that told you this was far from over.

You quickly averted your gaze, turning away before you could get caught up in the drama that was unfolding. But as you walked away, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of what had just happened, and the realization that some things, no matter how much time passes, are never truly left behind.

Please don’t steal my work, much love ᡣ𐭩

taglist: (comment if you wanna be added)

i love this so much hope you do too <3

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 eveninggstar

#lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #mclaren f1 #mclaren #fem!reader #f1

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mononijikayu · 8 months

Text

animals ― ryomen sukuna.

As they stood face to face, their breaths mingling in the stale air, Sukuna felt like they were consumed by a primal hunger that defied reason. The adrenaline rush from their latest crime pulsed through their veins like a potent elixir, fueling the flames of their dark desires. Without a word, Sukuna's hands moved with a feverish urgency, tracing the curves of his lover's body with a hunger that bordered on madness. His touch sent shivers down their spine, igniting a fire within them that burned with an intensity they could scarcely contain.

Genre: Serial Killer AU, No Curse AU;

Warning/s: R-18, Depiction of Murder, Depiction of Death, Depiction of Crime, Sadist Behaviour, Mentions of Graphic Violence, Depiction of Blood, Depiction of Sexual Intercourse, Explicit Depiction of Harm, Toxic Relationship;

masterlist

listen: animals by maroon 5

note: my friend read the first installment of this, devil by the window, and asked where was the smut. so here it is, ig??? bear with this writer, i haven't written smut in a while. but anyway, enjoy!!!

HE WAS ENJOYING THE NIGHT SO FAR. In the dimly lit room, the air hung heavy with the scent of decay and anticipation. Shadows flickered and swayed, casting sinister shapes upon the peeling wallpaper like ghostly apparitions. In the center of this macabre stage stood Sukuna, his tall, lean frame cloaked in ether of darkness. His eyes, pools of red obsidian, gleamed with a predatory allure as they scanned the room with a chilling intensity.

Every movement he made was deliberate, calculated – the mark of a seasoned predator. And he knew it. He basked in the glory of being that animal. One that was feared by all. One that caused the fabric of human fear to manifest. His steps were silent, his presence like a whisper in the night. Sukuna exuded an aura of danger, a magnetism that drew others to him like moths to a flame.

They never knew what he was going to do next, they never knew what he was going to be next – a raging blood thirsty beast or a monster who devours. No one knew. And he adored it.

His gaze lingered on the assortment of tools scattered across the room – knives, ropes, and other instruments of death. Each one was meticulously arranged, a testament to Sukuna's meticulous nature. He was a master of his craft, a connoisseur of pain and suffering.

For Sukuna was no ordinary killer – he was a force of nature, a creature of the night who reveled in the art of death, the art of manifesting fear. He was the master of all horrors. He had no limitations. It was not fun that way without it. And as he stood in the dimly lit room, surrounded by the remnants of his past conquests, he knew that tonight would be no different. Tonight, he would claim another victim, another soul to add to his ever-growing collection.

As he stood amidst the eerie ambiance, Sukuna's mind buzzed with excitement. Tonight, he would embark on another prey to hunt, another chance to indulge in his darkest desires. His heart quickened with anticipation, the thrill of the chase coursing through his veins like liquid fire. Somehow tonight, it was even more delightful, even more thrilling. Looking at his side, he could see the bubbling excitement in him. It felt like a drug each and every time this happened.

Each and every night was a time to feel alive. But even more now, as he looked at his partner in crime by his side. He was even more enthusiastic, now that he wasn’t alone doing this. They were oozing with excitement, fidgeting with their fingers. They were itching to hold life and see it gone in an instant. To feel the scarlet river echo at the flesh, to feel the warmth bathe them whole. He could see it so vividly. He could feel it within their grasp.

Beside him stood his unlikely companion, his lover. They were unlike anyone Sukuna had ever encountered – beautiful, enigmatic, and drawn to the darkness that consumed him. The moment he met them at that horribly dull party, walking into his life— somehow there finally came more in his life. With that dark look on their face, it makes one think that they were born for this life. They were his equal in every way, matching his thirst for thrill and danger. And it riled him up. It made everything about him electric. He could feel the blood boil down south in his member. He feels alive at this moment. But seeing them so vicious, so cruel, so vile. To be a creature of evil. He feels even more alive, knowing he could eat them whole. That he could take them himself, for his pleasure, for his desires, for his wants.

It was as if they were meant for each other, he thinks. They complete each other, make each other completely whole. Sukuna thinks he had been waiting for this his entire life. He has been waiting to feel like he had a pack, that he had a place to belong. He wouldn’t let them go, no. Not even if they wanted to. But he was sure he would not let go of him. They were as lonely as he was. So needy for thrill, for life to begin. He knew they could only find it with him. They would never be without any semblance of life without him. They would never leave him. They needed him. Otherwise, nothing would make sense.

Together, Sukuna and his lover had embarked on a nightmarish journey, leaving behind a wake of destruction and despair that echoed their twisted desires. In the past few months together, they were hopping town to town, city to city, to commit to drenching the pavements with blood. He and his lover had laughed about the panic they had caused in each and every place they had gotten into turmoil. Each night, the nationwide news reporting on what they had done was the highlight of their dates. They reveled in the chaos, feeding off each other's primal urges with a fervor that bordered on madness.

Tonight was no exception to their macabre routine. They were both aching for more action after moving to another small, obscure town in the middle of nowhere. Sukuna had given his lover the choice of place, of prey, of tactic. He liked seeing his lover happy, after all. And Sukuna too knew that his lover was as a mastermind to crime as he. Everything had been going as planned. That made him howl with vicious laughter, one that even drowned out the screams he so loved to hear.

As Sukuna wielded his blade with deadly precision, the thrill of violence surged through his veins like a drug. Each cut, each slice, each tear in flesh was a symphony of pain and pleasure, a twisted dance of death that left him intoxicated with power. But amidst the carnage, there was something else – something primal and forbidden that bound them together. It was a connection born of bloodlust and desperation, a bond that transcended the boundaries of morality and reason.

As Sukuna surveyed the aftermath of their rampage, he couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction. His lover stood beside him, their hands stained crimson with the blood of the prey long gone. Their eyes gleamed with a feral hunger, their lips curved into a cruel smile that sent shivers down Sukuna's spine. He enjoyed this feeling, he knew that for certain. He grinned at their lust, boring down at the blood that spilled from their hair little by little.

Each and every time, they reveled in the manifestation of their darkest desires, their lust for blood and violence consuming them like wildfire. It was a sight both beautiful and grotesque, a testament to the depths of their depravity. The whole of it was brutal, a true manifestation of relentless viciousness. Yet it only pleased them. It only made them feel more eager to enjoy more and more of this debauchery.

And as they stood amidst the carnage, Sukuna knew that he could live forever in this moment – a moment of pure, unadulterated madness that bound them together in a twisted embrace. For Sukuna and his dearest lover there was no turning back – they were monsters, born of darkness and consumed by the flames of their own creation. It was everything. He could feel his manhood harden more than before. He was certain that they were just as excited down south, eager for their foreplay to begin as soon as they finished.

His lover's fingers tangled in Sukuna's bloody hair, pulling him closer as their lips met in a fierce and desperate kiss. The taste of blood melting on their lips, the taste of the scarlet liquid burning their tongues with its salty, metallic ambiance. It was a collision of passion and violence, a melding of two souls bound together by the darkness that consumed them.

It was like a burning flame, each and every kiss. It was more painful, more dangerous in each and every turn of their touch. They bit his lip so harshly, the blood poured almost instantaneously. Sukuna did not mind. It excited him even more. They looked at him, as they parted. Taking in the breath, they did not let Sukuna take more air. They leaned forward once more, licking the blood and consuming his lips into their own, gripping his tattooed arms to hold them down.

Their bodies moved as one, a symphony of desire and destruction as they succumbed to the primal urges that drove them. Their bloody clothes started to slowly be discarded with reckless abandon, revealing skin marred by scars and bruises, testament to the violence of their existence. But at this moment, none of it mattered. There was only the heat of their bodies pressed together, the frantic rhythm of their hearts beating in unison as they surrendered to the madness that engulfed them.

Sukuna grabbed his lover by the hair and pulled them towards him, kissing them passionately while pushing their body against each other. His lover moaned into the kiss as Sukuna trailed his lips down their bloody neck, licking the flesh clean with his tongue. He grins as he starts leaving bites and marks along the way, eliciting moan after moan at how harshly he bit one after the other. There was no control for him. No mercy. They loved it that way. He knew that too well.

Sukuna then pushed his beloved onto the bed and climbed on top of them, grinding his hips against theirs. He reached behind himself to unfasten his pants hastily, freeing his long suffering erection to rub against his lover's thigh. It was a melodious thing to hear, all the whimpering and groans and whispers against his skin. The clawing nails at his flesh drawing skin to wounds and blood. It was electrifying to be in their arms, not caring in the world for what monstrosity they had just unleashed , still laying somewhere around the house. Sukuna could only care about the sounds of their heavy breathing filled the room as they continued to make out, their hands roaming over each other's bodies.

As they moved faster and faster, Sukuna felt a surge of pleasure shoot through him at the thought of what he was about to do. With one swift motion, he tore open his partner's shirt and began to lick and bite at their chest, marking it with his teeth like he always did. His partner groaned in pain and pleasure as Sukuna used his tongue to create patterns on their skin. It was all too good, all too cruel. One could never live without this. Sukuna knew he couldn’t.

Finally, Sukuna positioned himself above his beloved, his breath hitching with anticipation as he slowly slid inside them, feeling the warmth of their embrace enveloping him. Their nails dug into his arms, a mixture of pain and pleasure rippling through their body as he entered them with a primal force. Sukuna was certain that the air had been punched from both their lungs at the pace. But he did not care. He just cared for getting off the high, for getting more and more, taking and taking.

A guttural groan escaped Sukuna's lips, the culmination of hours spent holding back his primal urges, his hardened member now fully immersed in the depths of their being. He couldn't help but surrender to the sensation, lost in the intoxicating pleasure of being one with them. He was always a beast, an animal, a monster and they reveled to be in his arms, to take him and be hurt, to accept the darkness for what it was. It only made him feel so big inside of them, thinking of how they could only love only him.

Their eyes locked for a brief, intense moment, a silent exchange of raw desire and primal need passing between them before they both closed their eyes, succumbing to the overwhelming ecstasy of their union. As they moved together in a frenzied rhythm, their bodies entwined in a savage dance of passion and carnal desire, Sukuna couldn't shake the feeling that this was where he truly belonged – in the arms of someone who shared his darkest desires, someone who embraced the darkness within him without hesitation.

With each thrust, each gasp of pleasure, He and his lover were so easily becoming one, their souls intertwining in a twisted symphony of lust and madness. The room reverberated with the sound of their bodies colliding in a primal dance of desire, the intensity building with each passing moment. Blood from her scratches marking the drying blood against his tattoos.

Sukuna's movements became more primal, more aggressive, as he surrendered to the primal urges coursing through his veins. His thrusts grew harsher, more relentless, fueled by the intoxicating mixture of pleasure and pain that enveloped them both. His lover's cries filled the air, a symphony of ecstasy and agony as they surrendered to the savage pleasure of their union. They egged him on, urging him to go faster, to go harder, to make them his prey in this twisted game of lust and desire.

There was no room for remorse or guilt between them – only the intoxicating rush of ecstasy as they surrendered to their darkest impulses, lost in the savage embrace of their love. In this moment, they were untamed beasts, consumed by the fire of their passion, oblivious to the world outside their twisted sanctuary. Nothing was ever so sacred to the two of them than being animals together, in each other’s arms.

As they reached the peak of their ecstasy, their bodies entwined in a frenzy of desire, Sukuna couldn't help but feel a sense of fulfillment unlike anything he had ever experienced. They shook so violently in his arms, electric and high from the pleasure. When he came inside of them, he was so certain that he had blacked out for a moment. When he returned, he felt air punch out of his lips. He groaned and groaned, thrusting one after another, forcing more and more of himself each and every time—no matter how weary.

Sukuna pressed kisses against their glistening skin, whispering sweet nothings, horrible sins to be born inside of their horrifying mind. He knew how corrupt they were. But it egged him to desire to know that he bore new festering sickness in a head already defiled by cruelty. They quivered against each word, reciprocating in kind. He envelopes his weight upon their own, certain that he would crush them. They wrapped their arms around him, taking in the scent of sex, carnage, blood and death. And somehow, they would fall asleep, happily at the life of an animal with him. He smiled down at them, watching them rest in the semblance of his chest.

In the arms of his beloved, he had found his truest self.

He knew he was a creature of darkness and desire.

That he was a hungry predator bound to hunt his prey.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He was certain that neither would they.

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pauking5 · 5 months

Text

Runaway 🏎️ Chapter 1

Pairing: Naozumi Hiyama x fem reader oc

Synopsis: There's no place for women in the world of racing. Let alone rally. Until you show up - the daughter of a racing legend who lost everything out of nowhere - ready to stir the pot of competition and throw fuel to Naozumi's fire, burning wild in more than just one way. Just how far will you go to take your rightful place in the world of rally, restore the team to its glory and change things for the better?

Genre: racing AU, enemies to lovers, rivalry, suspense, a whole lot of teasing, gender power games, dating in secret

Word count: 4.5k+

A/N: Here it finally is. I can't believe I got to write about one of my passions in this way. Though I love rally, getting the technicalities right was rough but I researched as much as I could on it so it feels like the real thing, though there might be some minor inaccuracies, not really affecting the story.

This one has been in the works for a good period of time and though this first chapter is short and fast-paced, there's so much more coming. Trust the process cause god knows I do. I hope I can make Naozumi justice and I can't wait for you to read the next ones. Enjoy lovelies.

Now Playing: Edge of Seventeen - Wuki

Next Chapter 3 Chapter 4

It's not about how fast you go.

It's about how long you go fast.

Fast like-

A knock reverberated against your helmet, interrupting the pre-race mantra before you even finished reciting it, bringing you back to the chaos prior to the race start.

Chaos you wanted to avoid at all costs.

Blinking your eyes open, you took in the smell of burnt rubber and the atmosphere, fully packed with the deafening roars of the crowds in the stands soaring over the music heard all the way to your station. Another voice joined in the noise, demanding your attention.

"Raiko, are you ready?"

Letting out an exasperated breath, you waved off whoever spoke to you and closed your eyes again.

"Give me a minute, will you?"

Okay, where was I?

It's not about how fast you go-

A drilling noise came from your right, annoying the living daylights out of you.

Ah, fuck it. Since we keep getting interrupted...

How about I tell you a little bit about me.

Name's Raiko Suruki.

Yes, that Suruki. Here we go again.

I'm the daughter of the famed Hiro Suruki, five times Japan World Rally Championship winner, consecutively if I may add.

Proud podium sitter for thousands of times.

Also kind of a living legend of the primetime of the rally world.

The same Hiro Suruki that started one of the best teams in the history of Japanese rally, snatching six more titles under his directory. WRC'S Golden Boy.

After his personal fifth title, he decided he wanted something more. Something that would fulfill him, beside his love for driving at the most insane speeds known to man and having his first and only child - that's me, in case you didn't know.

Anyway, without any second thoughts or doubts, he retired from the sport out of nowhere, changing the fireproofs for the laid-back team principal shirt and a cheap very 'dad' baseball cap. At barely 35 years of age, he took the biggest leap of faith of his life and Suruki Racing was born out of fuel and passion for rally.

He poured everything he had into the team and built it from scratch, taking it so high in his prime that everyone wanted a piece of it. Be it driving in a seat for the team, changing parts as a mechanic or simply having shares in it.

It was basically the shit. The pinnacle of rally in the whole of Japan.

The team became a national sensation. So many influential people, from mere businessmen to politicians, even foreigners were so interested in it and helping it expand. It genuinely felt like the only way for him was up, flying like a rocket towards the legends' hall of fame.

It went like that for a while. He was beaming with happiness, unable to understand where all that luck came from. But like everything good, it didn't last. Once he started to question it all, it was like a switch flipped inwards and it all fell to ruins.

Everything started going wrong.

All of a sudden, the cars started missing parts the night before races. They had engine failures mid-race in almost every stage, followed by DNF's on every scoreboard.

And those aren't even the most shocking things that happened. You name the disaster and it definitely happened to Suruki Racing at one point. Disastrous, life-changing, career-ending type of things.

The mess piled up more and more and it showed despite dad's efforts to stay afloat.

Contract deals with sponsors started falling through, losing funding for a lot of parts and investments in equipment. Then the drivers got fed up with the constant failed races and blamed the car or the team if they felt like it. They terminated their contracts way before their terms were up under the pretense that they wanted different things... which were not related to Suruki Racing. The mechanics chose to stay, well, a few of them anyways, but it wasn't enough.

The team ripped at the seams and slowly but surely ran into the ground and dad couldn't find at least one reason why it happened.

It was like a curse you couldn't get rid of and I saw it happen first-hand.

The late nights he would spend in the garage trying new parts that kept failing with every test on the car. The way he would go as low as begging the drivers to come back offering them money he didn't have because no driver, rookie or experienced, didn't even bat an eye once the name of the team was mentioned.

Lost, penniless and with a heavy heart, he had to watch the one thing he loved the most on earth rust little by little, no matter what he would do to prevent it.

Mom called it karma for his reckless racing days because as talented as he was, the road forgives no one. That you can be God's favourite and still lose everything. And he didn't want to understand that. He never did.

I was too young to help back then. Too young to understand what Suruki Racing meant to him. Too young to do the only thing I could to save it.

Until now.

So, let's try that again, shall we?

Name's Rai Suruki, driver for Suruki Racing 2.0.

Another knock to your helmet, echoing in your head louder than the first, brought you back to the real world for good this time. Mechanics rushed around you to finish the set up on the car before you were called up to take your spot in front of the race marshal, which from a quick glance at the scoreboard would be soon.

Looking to your left, you were met with a set of dull brown eyes, messy jet black hair, a funky moustache and an extremely creased forehead for his middle age, all belonging to your co-driver, Don Tanaka. He's another legend of the sport.

Former training coach for some of the current biggest teams in the WRC, with a CV of experiences surpassing most people that have been in rally for longer. On top of all that, he is an even bigger friend of your father's. When he called him up asking for an old favour to train you, he couldn't say no.

But if it was up to commenting, you'd say he was one of the biggest fools for giving up a lavish salary with so many perks for one favour, especially for your old fart of a father.

Driving with him was great, but training with him was hell on Earth.

"I was doing my mantra," you reasoned, trying to get him off your case.

"Your mantra sucks."

He is an absolute joy to be around, isn't he?

"Well," you turned to him in your seat with a tight-lipped smile, "you're the one choosing to be co-driver to a young adult at your ripe age of 40. If I was you I would've picked something more calming, like gardening."

Bringing his hand to his chin in thinking, he sat in silence for a moment before he spoke.

"That doesn't sound so bad right now," he went on trying to push your buttons.

"Oh, shush," you waved him off, turning back to the wheel.

If there was one thing he liked doing, it was keeping you in check by poking fun at you. He was like that one uncle you could always go to with your secrets or to ask for extra pocket money, but in return he liked to tease the fuck out of you for it. Every. Single. Time.

As much as you hated his antics, you did kind of owe him a lot. He was the one who caught your talent for racing early on, back when you would drive plastic mini cars made from scraps around the team garage like you had years of experience. A few drifting maneuvers around old tires done like a pro at the cool age of 8, and he was sold on you and your potential.

Amongst all the teasing and the pain of having to train like a man, you've spent enough time with him to know you could count on him for literally anything. He was the best co-driver you could ask for and you wouldn't want anyone else in that seat directing your fate for the world.

He knew what it took to annoy you greatly in order to deliver on the dirt track and prove yourself. Especially now, since you were the only woman on highly occupied male territory.

Racing is a man's world. With as many female advancements in motorsport as there were today, the majority of the community was still not convinced that a woman could drive better than a man or even compete alongside a whole grid of their species. They can regard you, acknowledge your existence, but they would never accept you.

Your father knew your entry to the championship would stir up a lot of unwanted attention, besides the fact that he was basically reviving a cursed team and you happened to be the poster face for it this time around. It sounded like a catastrophe in the making.

Frankly, you were ecstatic to get to drive an actual race car outside of the junior series and helping the team get back to its rightful place, restoring its deserved glory. But you knew it wasn't going to be easy work. Especially, since public enemy number one - the press - was going to try and tear you to sparkly shreds for a lot of reasons. An attack that they started before any official information was out.

A few months ago, when the announcement of Suruki Racing's comeback after ten years of inactivity hit the WRC, the media had a field day with it.

They criticized your father for being a nutjob that didn't know when to quit. They smeared Don Tanaka's name like he didn't make most of the drivers currently selling their dying papers. They even tried to get paid scoops from anyone involved with the team in the slightest.

But the team had one wildcard left to play before pulling the curtains for good and giving them the satisfaction that they ruined it.

You.

The press didn't know about you. No one in the other teams knew about you. Thanks to your father's extremely private life, no one even knew of your existence.

The only people that did were your team in the garage, from the mechanics to your PR agent.

Even walking into the circuit grounds this morning, long hair down over your shoulders, sporting the team gear in plain sight, no one batted an eye at you. Even if they did, they would think you were involved with technical or marketing - though even that was a rarity in this universe - or worse, just another groupie looking to get one of the drivers under your hood.

Your father wanted to give everyone a show they'll never forget by having you drive the first race in the calendar without a proper introduction. No car reveal. No interviews. No pre-race press conference. Just a car and its driver.

This way they would judge your driving before they actually got to judge you for being a woman at the wheel of a three hundred horsepower beast. He trusted you and your judgement on the track far more than the lousy press setting you up for fail. They would get a proper car show and speech after the race anyway.

It was out of the ordinary but that kinda summed up Hiro Suruki and his bipolar personality.

The distorted sound of a megaphone, followed by the voice of the race marshal called you to the start line.

"Car 7, Rai Suruki for Suruki Racing, you're up next!"

You could already see everyone turning their eyes to your station, booming cheers going quiet, turning into sharp murmurs.

Time to get this show going.

Rolling up your windows to block the world, you put the car in gear and drove to the start line, waiting for the green light. Looking out at the lines in the road ahead of you spotting the first hazard ahead, the nerves climbed up your spine faster than your engine could pump the pistons for pressure.

You prepared for this for most of your life, but if you were being honest, it all got a little too real now, sitting with your foot hovering above the gas pedal ahead of the moment that could make or break your career before it even started. The very moment that could be a step forward to restoring your father's name, getting the team back on track in a new age of rally racing. The moment for a change.

No pressure, right?

"Raiko," your co-driver called your name, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from the road, gloved fingers tightening on top of the wheel with a small snap. "Do you remember the course?"

"Yes."

"Good. All set?"

"I think so."

"Raiko, look at me."

"You're not my style."

"Raiko," his voice turned more serious and deep with warning. With another sigh into the small, cramped space for breathing your helmet provided, you turned to him.

"You've got this. Let's prove everyone wrong."

He was right.

Let's prove everyone wrong.

The race marshal started the countdown, walking from the front of your car to the side, each number in the count descending with your nerves. You loosened the hold on the wheel, stretched your legs to the pedals and let out a deep breath.

"3."

It's not about how fast you go.

"2."

It's about how long you go fast.

"1."

Fast like lightning.

"GO!"

A soon as the lights went green, you hit the throttle and took off into the dirt, raising the dust behind you. You skidded off to the side a little due to the gravel but you got control of it before anyone could notice.

Tokai was a pretty difficult course to rally depending on which stages got picked for the day. More forest terrain gave way to hard roads, receding in wheel control, gaining insane suspension pressure. This one was more of an open valley terrain, which was a bit safer, but the later you got the okay to race, the more dust and gravel from other drivers would pile up in front of you, making visibility dangerously low. The corners were way too tight and one second off from Tanaka's directions or a mishap of your footing could cost you and put your car on the sidelines.

"5 left over crest," Tanaka paced you for the upcoming hill and you prepared to release the throttle.

"1 left 100."

Wheels back on the ground, you resumed pressing the pedal as a hairpin portion came into view. The cloud of dust in front of you was chalky and you had to get through it before it raised higher. Putting the car in second gear, you got ready for the drift portion.

You had to be extra careful here. The mechanic in chief told you to go easy as the rear could send you into oversteer, throwing off the balance of the car and fuck up the race completely.

Listening to your gut, you waited for the right time then tapped the brake, cut the wheels and pressed the throttle, sliding across the portion. Loud cheers and whistles erupted as the crowd in the stands got up to watch you complete a perfect drift.

"3 right don't cut."

Reduce pace and prepare for a possible road hazard.

You slowed down and sure enough a bump in the road came up. If you missed that one and took it at 120 kmph, it would've projected you off the track, crashing the car hard into the rocky wall like a cereal box. Thankfully, you swerved around it, feeling the car lift off the ground on the left for a bit before it fell back down.

"6 right very long."

Hard left into a tight corner.

"Cut 8 left."

Tight corner requiring you to follow a straight line in the curb.

This was the last and worst corner on the track. You were lucky it didn't rain because this is where your car can skid off into the stands. You caught the straight line pretty fast, cutting a few seconds off your lap time without slowing down.

Following the rest of Tanaka's directions and focusing on the rest of the road, the race finished before you knew it. You liked the state you were in as you drove, mind clear of everything else because as soon as the adrenaline in your body decreased, your brain got bombarded by all kinds of issues.

Did I push the new suspensions too hard? God, I hope I didn't scratch the rear in the hairpin. Was my timing too off on that last corner? I should've practiced it more.

Driving back to your team's station, you sent all those worries at the back of your head and got out to watch the screen showing the score board just as it updated to display the new track times since you were the last to go.

1. Akira Shinkai - Sigma Racing Academy - 1.23.40

2. Naozumi Hiyama - Spica Racing Factory - 1.23.59

3. Rai Suruki - Suruki Racing - 1.24.25

"WE BAGGED THIRD PLACE?!" you yelled throwing off your helmet onto the car seat.

"WE SURE DID," Tanaka high fived you, beaming with energy just like you.

"That's 15 points on the first stage! Well done, lightning strike," he ruffled your hair as you snickered, nose scrunching up with a smile at the gesture you were already accustomed to.

"The car held up a lot better today than in testing. Maybe we lifted the curse," you wiggled your eyebrows at him at which he flicked your forehead. "Ow, what did you do that for?"

"Don't jinx it. We still have two more stages to go."

"But-"

Before you could say anything else, you were interrupted by angry shouting coming from the station next to you.

"I told you to not touch the third gear," yelled a strained voice.

You walked to the side of your station, peeking your head by the team banner, and watched the heated exchange between one of the drivers and his mechanic. Your eyes wandered to the car sitting in the middle, not one hand touching it for the regular post-race check up. From the different strokes of sky blue layered over stark white, the red and blue sponsor stickers and the carbon spoiler, you recognized it to be Spica Racing's.

"It doesn't matter now," shouted another voice, so annoyed and sure of themselves as if they owned the place. "I got a good lap record this time."

"What would you do if you had to retire in the middle of the race?" shot the mechanic, chastising the driver for being careless.

He got up in his face, towering over him though the other was much taller than him.

"We won't win if I don't attack!" he yelled back, throwing his hand in the air to make a point. "The moment I think of being scared I will lose. I won't make that mistake. So just do your job and fix the car."

With that final remark, he rounded the car to walk away from the station until he noticed you in the corner, now standing in full sight just at the line between your stations.

Quickly replacing the scowl on his face with what was probably his natural smirk, he came to you, stopping short of the barrier separating you.

"I don't do autographs, but for you I can do more than that," he added a daring wink, flashing his cocky smile at you.

Ew.

Taking a small step back hoping his vibes wouldn't envelop you, you uncrossed your arms from your chest and lifted an eyebrow at him.

"I don't want your autograph."

Taken aback at your response, he backed up slightly too and looked you up and down, taking in your deep blue and dark gold team fireproofs and the suit tied messily around your waist. The old, way out of fashion colours seemed to ring a bell.

"Suruki Racing...," he started doubtful, "the shithole that revived from the ashes? Are you a mechanic, a co-driver or something for them? If you are, why don't you jump ships? I wouldn't mind having you on my team instead," he finished his speech of intent with another shit-eating grin.

Who the fuck was this guy?

The audacity that wafted off him must definitely make him popular with the ladies.

"I don't think we've met before," you extended your hand out to him, curt and polite, like a normal person would do, introducing yourself.

"Rai Suruki, driver for Suruki Racing," emphasizing your role in the team so he got it through his head that you weren't some bimbo.

If you were, you'd make sure your fist decorated his face in pretty red tones before anything else.

He straightened back, smirk gone from his face in all sense of the word. It got replaced by some kind of curiosity. Looking between you and your palm hanging in the air he looked confused to say the least. He's heard about female racers before and seen some working in technical around the place, he's just never seen one stand against him on track.

Tired of being polite to someone who obviously has never heard about manners, you were about to retract your extended hand when he caught it in a firm grip and pulled it towards him, just holding it instead of shaking it. The move sent you forwards, almost barreling into him when your reaction response kicked in to steel you a safe distance away.

Maybe Tanaka's intense survival program pays off sometimes.

"So," he began and you wondered if he was about to say something intelligent or spew more shit with that mouth of his. He decided to choose the latter. "You're the one driving the Beetle dupe right there?"

Eh, come again?

Your eyes widened at him, looking at where his finger was pointed to confirm that he was pointing at your car and not anywhere else, then you whirled your head back at him appalled.

"B-Beetle dupe?!"

"I thought you were a guy."

Wouldn't be the first time I heard that one.

You took your hand back from his hold, wiping it on the sleeves of the suit hanging on your hips in the hopes that it would wipe off the disgust you were feeling too. It didn't but it was worth a try.

"It's the name," you replied through gritted teeth.

He backed up some more to scan you again, though more attentively this time, like you were some kind of illegality, cooked up from the pits of his imagination. You gave him your best front, hardening your jaw and rolling your shoulders backwards, proving you were more than a pair of boobs and a vagina, which was apparently his deranged first impression of you.

You deserved to be here. No amount of stares from the male specimen, surprised or with sinful intentions, could ever make you back down from this. This was yours to take on. No man could take this from you. Not him anyway.

So, you stared him down too, trying to find something else beside the extreme big dick energy and unsurmountable lack of scruples surrounding him. Struggling to see anything else but some disdain in the way he crossed his arms over his broad chest, a rich prick attitude from how he shifted on his legs like the world owed him golden lingos every time he breathed, and some leftover rage from the screaming match with his mechanic still present in the tick of his jaw, you let your eyes meet his own in conclusion of your very own analysis.

Yeah, there's nothing else in there. An ambulant douchebag. Just like I thought.

Flashing cameras were suddenly thrown in your faces, interrupting the intense stare-down between you. The press and some people, potentially fans of other teams by their t-shirts, surrounded you from every corner of the plastic barrier around the two stations, pushing each other over the race marshals that tried their hardest to keep them away. It wasn't long until they pushed over the barrier.

Too absorbed in the chaos, you didn't notice he leaned down to your ear but when you did, you stilled in your shoes, all blood draining into your pounding stomach. He spoke close and low, so only you could hear his words.

"Don't get too comfortable around here, rookie," he whispered, hot breath hitting the shell of your ear making shivers run down your extremely clothed spine. "Let's see how long you last in here because this season might just be your first and last."

Pulling away with another one of his smirks that were starting to get on your nerves, he regarded you once more before he walked off in amusement to his cool-down room, giving you a full view of his broad back.

Oh, just you wait -

A reporter shoved into the human barrier of orange and green safety vests reaching the railing, yanking it back and forth repeatedly until the poor plastic seal broke off, letting everyone else pool in around you.

Uh-oh. This wasn't good.

They packed around you like wolves on their prey, all shouting different things at you while shoving their big cameras, recording devices and phones in your face. The flashes blinded you, turning the world white and too bright for it to be natural light from the clouded sky above.

Your hands shot up on instinct to cover your eyes from the flaring lights as your ears focused on filtering through the blaring sounds of camera clicks and voices. Then the countless questions registered clear as day, hitting you like a truck at full speed.

"Are you Rai Suruki, daughter of Hiro Suruki?"

"Where did your father get the money to restart the team?"

"Is your car even going to last a season?"

"Do you consider yourself a challenge to the rest of the drivers?"

I guess that was it for mystery, dad.

Some of the other teams passed by the ruckus, sparing quick judgmental glances or sending disgusting sneers your way like that was the way they initiated your welcome ceremony at the gates of the jungle.

If this was any other series, you would've been so welcomed by the rest of the grid and treated somewhat better by the media and the fans. But this was the World Rally Championships.

Driving was dirty.

Talk was filthy, full of disrespect and unspoken trials of envy between each driver.

The press competed to see who would get your head on a pike first and parade it as the story of the century.

Respect was fought for, not earned.

It was a different game. One where you needed to play even if you didn't want to so in turn you wouldn't get played. Survival of the fittest truly.

You steeled your gaze, waving the reporters off and digging a hole through the crowd, successfully escaping away to your pit crew. Helping with packing up bits and pieces and taking your own stuff, you headed back to your team quarters, aware of the intensifying stares belonging to the rest of the teams still around their stations, talking about the first day in this season's calendar being an interesting one.

You had a feeling you and the team were the hot topic of conversation since you could feel their eyes searing deep holes into your back, burning hotter and doing more damage than flame-lit arrows aimed straight at you ever could. Tanaka wrapped an arm around you giving you his curled moustache smile, sympathizing with you.

Looking up at the sky darkening in mauve and pink, you let a small smile grace your lips. At least today was done. Your rally racing career has officially started. The team was back in business.

However, this first stage was just one of the many challenges still to come. Who knew what else was on the way?

As you trudged on the warm asphalt, warmed by the mid-spring warmth of March, there was one thing you knew for sure.

This is gonna be a long season.

Thank you for reading :) As always leave a like, comment or reblog!

#Runaway #Naozumi Hiyama #Naozumi Hiyama x reader #Naozumi Hiyama x you #Overdrive x reader #Overdrive x you #racing au #Overdrive Mackenyu

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muiitoloko · 5 months

Note

could you do something smutty with Alex Dane maybe? 👉🏻👈🏻

Title: The stall

Summary: It's you he wants, and in his eyes, no one compares to you.

Pairing: Alexander Dane × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut and criticism.

Author's Notes: Thanks for the request. I hope this is to your liking.

As Alexander Dane's fingers tangled in your hair, he couldn't help but feel a surge of desire coursing through him. The dim lighting of the women's bathroom did little to mask the intensity of his brown eyes as they bore into you, watching you eagerly take him into your mouth.

You knelt before him, your lips wrapped around him like he was the sweetest lollipop, your tongue swirling and teasing as you pleasured him with practiced skill. His other hand held onto the side of the stall for support, his grip tightening with each exquisite sensation.

The dress you wore, a delicate and elegant garment he had bought for you, hugged your curves in all the right places, driving him wild with desire. His thoughts momentarily drifted to the post-premiere party they had just fled, the buzz of excitement still lingering in the air as they sought refuge in the intimacy of the bathroom stall.

But Alexander's mind was consumed by the overwhelming need to be with you, to feel the warmth of your body against his, to lose himself in the pleasure of your touch. His hips moved instinctively, matching the rhythm of your mouth as you sucked him with eager abandon.

But just as the heat between you threatened to consume you both, the door to the bathroom opened, and the sound of female voices filled the air. You froze, your heart pounding in your chest as you realized that you were not alone. Panic surged through you, the fear of being caught in such a compromising position overwhelming your senses.

Alexander, however, seemed unfazed by the intrusion. Instead, he tightened his grip on your hair, his voice low and commanding as he encouraged you to continue. "Don't stop, darling," he whispered, the urgency in his tone fueling your desire. "Keep going. I want to see you take all of me."

You obeyed Alexander's command, your lips resuming their eager ministrations despite the discomfort creeping into your chest. As you both listened to the women gossiping outside, oblivious to your presence in one of the bathroom stalls, their words pierced through the thin barrier of privacy.

One of the women mentioned Alexander, praising his performance at the premiere. Another reminisced about his role as Doctor Lazarus, causing Alexander to roll his eyes at the mere mention of the character. The conversation took a lascivious turn as they commented on Alexander's appearance, describing him as "fucking fuckable tonight" with his brown eyes and that baritone voice that sent shivers down their spines.

Your heart sank as one of them remarked that she would sleep with him given the chance, followed by the other questioning what he saw in you, dismissing you as unworthy of him. The criticism stung, and you couldn't help but release Alexander from your mouth, lowering your head in shame as their mocking words echoed in your ears.

Alexander sensed the pain in your eyes and immediately pulled you to your feet, pressing you against the stall wall. With a soft yet commanding tone, he reminded you in your ear of where his desires truly lay. "It's you I want to fuck, not them. You're the one I fucking want," he whispered, his words a potent mixture of desire and possessiveness.

His hands roamed your body, tracing every curve with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine, you felt a mixture of desire and anticipation building within you. His touch was electric, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing moment.

Turning you around, Alexander pulled your panties down around your thighs, the fabric catching slightly before sliding down to pool at your feet. With one foot, he spread your legs, a silent command for you to open yourself to him completely. Leaning in close, his breath warm against your ear, he whispered words that sent a thrill through your body.

"I'm going to fuck your little hole until you realize that no woman even reaches your feet," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. You felt a surge of excitement mingled with a hint of apprehension at his bold declaration.

As you tried to protest softly, mindful of the women still lingering outside, Alexander silenced you with a firm yet gentle command to stay quiet. His desire was palpable, his need to possess you overriding any concern for discretion.

With a swift motion, Alexander penetrated you, the heat of his desire meeting the eager anticipation of your body. He kept your dress up with one hand, the fabric bunching around your waist as he held you firmly against the stall wall. With his other hand gripping your hips, he pulled you towards him, the sensation driving you wild with need.

As Alexander's thrusts grew more urgent, you struggled to stifle your moans, and your boyfriend noticed this and pressed firmly his hand against your mouth, muffling the sound. The women's voices outside continued, their words like a cruel soundtrack to the intense pleasure coursing through your body.

"You're so fucking beautiful," Alexander whispered in your ear, his voice a husky growl that sent shivers down your spine. "So tight around my cock, driving me wild with desire."

You threw your head back against his shoulder, half-moaning, half-sighing as he pounded into you with increasing force. His hand left your waist to trail down between your legs, slipping under the fabric of your dress to find your soaking wet heat.

With his fingers teasing and taunting, you gasped against his hand, the pleasure overwhelming your senses as he plunged deeper into you. You grabbed his wrist, holding on for dear life as he guided you through the ecstasy of his touch.

"Keep your dress up," Alexander commanded in your ear, his voice a potent mixture of desire and dominance. "I want to see how fucking beautiful you look as I take you, right here in this stall."

You obeyed without hesitation, lifting your dress and holding it up as he thrust into you with abandon. His hand on your mound kept you steady, his touch electrifying as he drove you closer and closer to the edge of oblivion.

As the women's voices finally faded away, leaving you and Alexander alone in the intimate confines of the bathroom stall, you felt a surge of freedom wash over you. With abandon, you gave yourself over to the pleasure of his touch, riding the wave of ecstasy as he claimed you as his own.

With each powerful thrust, you felt a sense of liberation, a freedom that only came from surrendering to the overwhelming desire that burned between you. Alexander's baritone voice filled the air with a symphony of pleasure, his words a potent aphrodisiac that drove you wild with need.

Alexander removed his hand from your mouth, allowing you to moan freely as he pressed his free hand against the wall of the stall, leaning into you with a hunger that matched your own. You quickly pressed your hand against the wall for support, eager to take him even deeper.

"Alex," you moaned, your voice pleading for more, but Alexander maintained the rigorous pace, his determination unwavering. Feeling mischievous, you decided to tease him, moaning the name of the character he despised so much: "Doctor Lazarus."

Instantly, Alexander grabbed your hair roughly, pulling your head back as he stopped thrusting. You couldn't help but moan at the delicious sting of pain, practically bending over like a cat, your ass pressed against his crotch.

"Don't you dare moan that name, fuck," Alexander growled, his brown eyes dark with desire. "You know I don't like it."

You let out a giggle, unable to resist your playful nature even in the throes of passion, before offering a sheepish apology. But Alexander only smiled to himself, his baritone voice dripping with affection as he returned his thrusts slowly.

"You're such a tease," he murmured, his words laced with both adoration and frustration. "But I love you anyway, you beautiful girl. Those women out there mean nothing. No one means anything compared to you."

As he continued to move inside you, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body, you couldn't help but feel a sense of euphoria wash over you. In this moment, with Alexander's arms around you, you felt like nothing else in the world mattered.

With every movement, every touch, you gave yourself over to the intensity of the pleasure, losing yourself in the heat of the moment. And as Alexander whispered sweet nothings in your ear, his words a soothing balm to your soul, you knew that nothing could ever compare to the connection you shared.

"God, you feel so good," Alexander groaned, his baritone voice sending shivers down your spine as he buried himself deep inside you. His hooked nose brushed against your cheek as he leaned in close, his hot breath fanning across your skin.

"You like that, don't you?" he murmured, his lips grazing your earlobe before nibbling on it gently. "You like feeling me inside you, filling you up completely."

You moaned in response, unable to form coherent words as pleasure washed over you in waves. Alexander's hands roamed your body with a possessiveness that left you breathless, his touch igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume you whole.

"I could do this all night," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. "I could fuck you until neither of us can walk straight."

With each declaration, Alexander's thrusts grew more urgent, driving you both closer to the edge of ecstasy. You gripped the sides of the stall, your nails digging into the metal as you surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins.

"Please," you begged, your voice barely a whisper as you pleaded for release. "I need... I need to come."

Alexander's lips curved into a wicked grin as he quickened his pace, his movements becoming more frenzied with each passing moment. He knew exactly how to push you to the brink, how to drive you wild with need until you were begging for more.

"Tell me you want it," he demanded, his voice low and commanding. "Tell me you want to come all over my cock."

You nodded eagerly, unable to form words as pleasure consumed your senses. With one final thrust, Alexander sent you hurtling over the edge, your body convulsing with ecstasy as you cried out his name.

"That's it, darling," Alexander growled, his own release imminent as he followed you into oblivion. "Come for me. Let me feel you tremble around me."

As the intensity of your orgasms subsided, you collapsed against Alexander, your bodies still entwined in the aftermath of your passion. The sound of your heavy breathing filled the air, mingling with the soft hum of the bathroom's fluorescent lights.

For a moment, you simply existed in the blissful aftermath, lost in the sensation of Alexander's arms around you, holding you close. In that moment, nothing else mattered except the two of you, wrapped up in each other's embrace.

"I love you," Alexander murmured, his voice filled with tenderness as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I love you more than anything in this world."

And as you lay there together, basking in the warmth of each other's presence, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, bound by a love that transcended everything else.

#galaxy quest #alan rickman #alan rickman x reader #alexander dane #alexander dane x reader

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mustainegf · 5 months

Note

Can you do a fluff/smut of kill ‘em all era Kirk x Fem reader?

I was thinking like you guys are dating and you were hanging out one night just like talking under the stars, then you go back to the readers house cause her parents aren’t home. And then you know the rest!

I know you usually don’t write a lot for him so there’s no pressure!

-Harley

Hiii Harley!! I’ve been dying for more kirk reqs so I was so excited to write this!! Hope you like it :)

As Kirk and I lay in the soft grass of the field, the cool night air enveloped us, bringing with it an ease of tranquility. The stars above twinkled like scattered glitter against the vast blue of the sky.

I nestled closer to Kirk, his warmth a comforting presence beside me. His hand found mine, fingers intertwining in a gentle dance as we traced constellations only we could see.

"Isn't it amazing?" Kirk's voice broke the silence, soft and filled with wonder.

I turned to look at him, the moonlight casting a soft glow on his features. His eyes sparkled with a childlike fascination, mirroring the beauty of the night sky above.

"Yeah, it really is," I replied, my voice barely a whisper in the stillness of the night. "It's moments like these that make you realize how small we are in the grand scheme of things."he marveled.

I smiled. With Kirk by my side, I felt like I was me, and was free to be me.

As I stole a glance at Kirk, my heart skipped a beat. His tan skin seemed to absorb the moonlight. His long, dark curly hair cascaded around his shoulders, framing his face perfectly. And that smile, oh, that smile, it was like sunshine breaking through the clouds on a stormy day.

I couldn't help but admire the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, the way his lips curved into that cute, crooked grin that never failed to melt my heart. Kirk was always a bit insecure about his teeth, but I thought they were cute from the second I met him.

"Hey," he said, catching me staring, his voice soft and warm like a summer breeze. "What are you thinking about?" He asked softly.

I felt a blush creep up my cheeks, but I couldn't tear my gaze away from him. "Just how lucky I am to have you," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

Kirk's smile widened, and he reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "The feeling's mutual, you know," he said with a dorky chuckle.

As the feeling between us intensified, a magnetic pull drew us closer together. Our lips met, igniting a fire that had been smoldering beneath the surface. Kirk's arms enveloped me, pulling me into his embrace as our kisses deepened, each one more passionate than the last.

The world around us faded into the background, leaving only the sound of our ragged breaths and the rhythm of our beating hearts. I ran my fingers through his hair, feeling the soft curls coil around my touch, while Kirk's hands explored the contours of my body with a gentle urgency.

As Kirk pulled away, a sudden sense of longing hung in the air, but before I could dwell on it, he spoke, his voice husky with desire.

"Are your parents home?" he asked, his eyes searching mine with an intensity that shot heat to my face.

I bit my lip, knowing exactly what he meant. "No," I replied, my voice barely a whisper, my heart pounding in anticipation.

Without another word, Kirk sat up, his movements quick and purposeful, as he reached out to tug me along with him. In an instant, we were on our feet, hand in hand, racing back to my house.

The journey back passed in the blink of an eye, each step fueled by the lust that grew between us. And as we finally reached the familiar silhouette of my house against the moonlit sky, I could feel myself flutter at the thought of the filthy things we were yet to do.

With trembling hands, I fumbled for my key, my heart racing with anticipation as Kirk pressed himself closer against me, his touch setting my skin ablaze with longing. And as the door swung open, we stepped inside, leaving the world behind as we surrendered ourselves.

The instant the door was shut, Kirk had his lips on mine, fighting them vigorously.

His tongue darted out, tangling with mine as he plundered into my mouth, tasting every corner as if it were his favorite place.

My head spun with passion, but as I felt the heavy weight of his body pressing against me, I pulled back, his warm breath tickling my face as I did so.

"Not here," I whispered, shoving him toward the bedroom.

He didn't need any encouragement, practically dragging me toward the room as he went.

But as we entered, the room was suddenly engulfed in darkness, and the only light came from the full moon shining through the windows. I hopped onto the mattress, Kirk following behind me. He gave me a soft kiss before crawling over me.

"Do you trust me?" he asked as he kissed me again.

"Yes," I answered breathlessly, his kisses sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body.

He gently removed my shirt, his fingers brushing against my skin as he did so. I gasped as the sensation shot straight to my core, igniting a spark of desire.

His eyes darkened as he stared down at me, making me shiver with anticipation. "Trust me," he said once more, taking off his clothes until all that remained was his boxer briefs.

As he stood there, looking at me with those dark brown eyes, I couldn't help but reach out for him. I wanted him so badly, I could barely stand it.

I took off my bra and panties, letting him feast his eyes on me, the hunger in his gaze sending chills down my spine. "You are perfect," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

"Here, get under the blankets"" Kirk said softly, sitting up.

When I got up on the bed, he climbed after me, covering us both with a blanket, allowing us privacy without anyone seeing us. Despite already being alone, the blanket draped half over us felt intimate, and I liked it.

"Kirk..." I whined softly, feeling his hardness through his thin boxers. I needed him inside of me so bad.

Kirk ran a finger through my folds, my slick wetness sticking to him. I flinched at the slow motion, just focusing on his fingers playing with my most private place.

He chuckled. "You like that? Do you want more?" I nodded quickly, willing to say anything, do anything to make this moment last forever.

He slid his finger in, going deeper than I expected, and I moaned in ecstasy, my eyes rolling to the ceiling. He added another finger and then another, making me feel full and stretched, and I loved it.

He added a third finger and fucked me slowly while playing with my clit. He began to tug his boxers down with his free hand as he did this.

I stared at his dick, rock hard, and just begging to be touched.

"Touch it." He ordered, still fucking me with his three fingers. I grabbed hold of his shaft and stroked him, loving how he felt in my hand, so hot and hard.

I rubbed my thumb over the head, and pre-cum started leaking out. I smiled as I watched it flow out, and licked it off of fingers, the salty flavor exploding in my mouth.

"You taste good." I murmured. He stopped fingering me and took me by the hips, looking into my eyes with a smile. "Fuck me, Kirk, please 1 need you..."

Kirk grinned, guiding his cock to rub my swollen pussy.

The head started to push in and I cried out, unable to contain my excitement. "Mmmm, you're tight," he groaned, his eyes glazing over with passion.

He pushed in slowly, filling me inch by inch. I gasped in pleasure, my walls contracting around his girth with a slight sting. "Shhhh, I won't hurt you. Relax." He crooned, taking my lips in a heated kiss.

I moaned into his lips, rocking my hips as Kirk began to slowly thrust. I would never completely get used to the feeling of him inside of me.

He filled me in ways no other man ever could, and with each slow stroke, I was reminded why I loved him so much.

As he continued to fuck me slowly, I focused on the sensations I felt from his shaft rubbing my clit with each slow inward thrust.

He nibbled my neck and I arched my back to give him better access. With each movement, he moved faster, his cock filling me with such pleasure, I knew I wasn't going to be able to hold back for long.

"Oh god, yes," I moaned, loving how good he made me feel. "You're mine, aren't you, baby?" He growled, pumping in and out of me with a fierceness that caused me to scream out in pleasure. "Yessss!"

I screamed. "Yes, yours," I whispered, not wanting to stop the rhythm of our movements. "That's right, call out my name, baby, let me hear you." He commanded, his tone deepening with authority.

"Kirk, harder!" I begged, my body craving more of him. He complied, picking up the pace until he was slamming into me, filling me with so much pleasure, I felt like I was about to burst.

I screamed as I came, my body trembling as I gripped his back for dear life. I gasped when he held me close, his breathing ragged. He looked down at me, his eyes filled with love and tenderness.

Gripped his warm body as he grunted out a stifled moan. "That's it, just squeeze my dick..."

I squeezed his cock even tighter, my fingernails digging into his back. "Oh, fuck yes," he hissed, his orgasm building fast. I heard him come undone as he buried his face in my neck and roared. "Baby, I'm coming."

I squealed as he pulled out, pumping his length until he was spurting ropes of cum onto my stomach.

Kirk whimpered, his neck twitching as he milked himself.

I peppered kisses to his cheeks, "I love you so much, Hammett.." I sighed with a tender smile.

Kirk heaved, smiling down at me. "I love you too..." he giggled softly.

Kirk collapsed at my side, my arms pulling him closer.

"As much as I want to just fall asleep here, you're kinda covered in my, uh, cum." Kirk's cheeks burned red as he flashed those crooked teeth.

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