#and now the battlegrounds thing

[miyeosin]

🫠

[koetjingwarrd]

You're my baby, say it to me...

[fate-defiant]

A very fun feature of a Princess Tutu/TMA crossover is how much more hopefull it makes the TMA universe and how much more terrifying it makes Princess Tutu.

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Monster x Reader Headcanons

You find yourself kidnapped into a half-breed family of monsters and humans, for the purpose of an arranged marriage. Luckily for you, the groom is their only pure human, terribly handsome and charming. You'd perhaps appreciate him more if your eyes weren't glued to his monstrous older sibling...

Content: female reader, monster smut, reader is a shameless monster hoe

[Part 2]

You always imagined such kidnappings to be of theatrical intensity, being scooped up against your will as you scream and flail your arms, longing for a savior. The affair itself felt more like a formal summoning. Mysterious men appeared before you and merely announced that your presence is required, unfortunately without the choice of refusal. Might as well. You packed necessities under their polite supervision and now you're sitting at the table, facing multiple strangers who are casually enjoying their lunch. One of them, the head of the family apparently, explains that half-breeds are in a rather sensitive place when one considers human and monster politics. Thus, every now and then, they will do whatever it takes to strengthen their bonds and show good intent towards both species. This time it's an arranged marriage with a fellow human.

Why you, in particular? No need to concern yourself with intricate details. What matters now is that you are to be married soon and your groom is right here, enthusiastically waving in a welcoming greeting. You scan his features and can't help but agree with the family: he is, by all definitions, a conventionally handsome man. His face is carefully chiseled in most elegant, yet masculine features. His voice is confident but warm, and you can tell by the flock of servants hovering around that he's rather popular. After the luxurious meal he guides you around the imposing home, showing you to your room and briefing you on future responsibilities. Caring, attentive, and several other checks that you can easily mark in his favor.

Yet one vital aspect has been omitted. The prince's mesmerizing beauty was rather swiftly discarded once you realized the presence of his older sibling, a pure monster blood towering above everyone else and idly eating his food, uninterested. You managed to hide your blush in time, but you couldn't help throwing curious glances. Might've been easier for everyone involved if they handed out 'monster lover' badges. Alas, you weren't prepared to ever be faced with the choice.

The next day you're awoken by the murmur of diligent work, as both servants and family pace back and forth about their plans. You sneak your way out - since nothing is yet expected of you - and wander until you find your intended target: the beastly sibling is polishing a bizarre weapon you don't recognize in what seems to be a storage room littered with battle memorabilia. He notices your presence and acknowledges you with a bored nod. You ask whether you may observe his current activity and he looks up at you, raising an eyebrow suspiciously before agreeing. Why would you care? Certainly there's more entertaining things for you to do as a soon-to-be bride.

As you listen to his little stories from the battleground (hardy monsters like him are better off fighting, not socializing), you have to pat your cheeks in desperate attempts to cool down your burning blush. "H-how comes you don't have a partner?" You mutter, almost feverish. "Not interested. Plus, who would dare to marry me?" he jokes, focused on the sharp item in his clawed hands. There it is. Hesitation and diplomacy out the window, you rearrange yourself, smoothening your clothing, and whisper: "Well, if I had to choose, I would've preferred you as my husband..."

Once again he stares at you bewildered. Have you come here to mock him or something? A frail, pretty human like you, about to tie the knot with his stunning younger brother, showing up here and behind everyone's backs to openly flirt with him. Ridiculous beyond comprehension. His skin is thick enough to not mind such twisted humor, so if anything he's impressed by your audacity. Alright, if you've come for jokes, he'll comply. He places his weapon down and fully turns to you. A little scare might teach you to be more respectful with your in-laws next time.

With a speedy movement that's barely registered by your eyes, he pushes you on the floor and pins you by the wrists, lowering himself uncomfortably close to your face. "If you tease me like this, I might not be able to hold back." He says as he forces himself to smile extra hard, revealing the multiple rows of fangs. "In fact, I can't guarantee you'd make it out of here alive." Hopefully he isn't going too far with his tactics. He senses your frantic breathing and is about to apologize for continuing your prank, but you blurt out in a daze: "Yes, please! I've been thinking about it ever since I saw you." You're panting for dear life as your face is turning a deep shade of red.

Uh oh. Now this is awkward. You weren't...you weren't kidding. For a moment, he freezes in place, trying to recollect himself to no avail. Fucking your brother's future wife in a storage room in the middle of the day feels like poorly written erotic romance. Then again, he can't deny the sudden urge overwhelming him at the mere thought of it. You're squirming underneath him, gliding your legs across his now obvious bulge. His common sense is hanging by a comically thin thread and he can almost hear the instant when it snaps. Thankfully some leftovers of sanity must have remained in the back of his mind and his lustful grunts while pounding you are kept low enough that no one is notified of your horny deeds. Shutting you up was the bigger challenge.

"Is this too tight, miss?" You spin in front of the mirror and the servant readjusts the lace corset adorning your wedding dress. You have to hold back your yawn. Downright shameless and perverted of you to daydream about your monster boyfriend while trying on bridal gowns, but it's not like you agreed to it to begin with. You were kind of hoping to discuss future dating prospects post-intercourse, but someone had been looking for you shortly afterwards and you struggled to regain your composure. Your scary-looking suitor shooed you away with the promise of a reunion.

Before the servant can reach for the next dress, you both jump, startled by angry shouts coming from the hall. You rush outside to witness the older sibling standing before the head of the family. The wrathful threats were coming from the much smaller half-human. "Y-you can't just decide like that!" He screams. "Of course I can. You're welcome to fight me for it." The monster sibling flashes a smug grin. "Can anyone here defeat me?" His question is met with silence. He spots you and gestures you to come towards him. "I'll say it one more time. Find another human for my brother if you have to. This one is mine." He ends his sentence in a low growl and you shiver underneath his heavy arm. Boy, what a time to be alive.

[quokkawritesarchive]

DANCE BETTER — MINHO.

pairing: minho x reader(afab) genre: dancer au!minho, enemies to lovers, smut, NSFW warnings: sub!minho, dom!reader, kinda touch starved minho, oral (f. receiving), handjob, praising, degrading, dirty talk, use of “slut”, “kitten”, “whore”; fingering, cumming untouched, mean minho in the beginning a/n: i decided to expand the scenario that i’ve written for this ask. enjoy!

dancing has always been a big part of your life. you danced since you could remember and it was the only part of your life that has “always been there” and brought you comfort.

after moving to soul and completing your biggest dream, the first thing that you did was sign up for a dance studio. it looked pretty fun, judging by the text on the brochure. unlike most dance studios in soul, this one had couples dancing. you have never tried this before, so you were very thrilled with the idea of new couples choreo you’d learn.

until you met minho. this guy has been a regular dancer in the studio for quite a long time. you didn’t get along from the beginning. it was honestly still a secret to you why exactly you didn’t get along. he seemed like a pretty chill guy, but with you he always seemed to turn into an asshole.

maybe it was your dancing skills, that finally put him into challenge. he was the best in the group, until you showed up. maybe it was his strategy - to bully you, until you give up and leave. but you were not one of the weak, you were not planning on giving up.

months went by and your dance teacher has acknowledged your skills. to everyone’s surprise, she paired you with minho. your partner at the time was the sweetest guy you’ve ever met. yes, he was a bit slow with learning new choreo and overall he lacked some skill, but honestly, you’d rather be paired with someone who lacks skill than with a man-child.

it quickly evolved into a fight for the title of the best, but now it was inside the pair. you gave your fullest in every practice. you didn’t want to slack off even for one moment. because you knew - the second you relaxed, minho’d leave a harsh comment about your poor dancing skills and that he needed to change his partner immediately.

his verbal bullying evolved as well and turned into putting pranks on you. at his very grown age, he still did some stupid shit, like tying your shoelaces on both sneakers between each other while you were not looking, making you fall afterwards. but you became used to it. you treated it as some sort of challenge that you need to overcome. dancing was no longer there to relieve stress and be your safe space - it became a battleground.

but it wasn’t just minho you were fighting with. your dance teacher didn’t help either. you were used to bullying and you could handle every prank that minho did on you. what you couldn’t handle though, was the sexy choreo that your dance teacher loved to put on. for some reason, she thought that getting random people who interact with each other only during dance practice, to learn the sexiest and most seductive choreography ever was a good idea. every time it became more naughty and awkward for you and minho.

it was your usual thursday after work hours, meaning you were gonna spend time in the company of minho and other people who treat you as an obstacle that needs to be overcome. to be honest with yourself, thoughts about quitting have been coming to you more often these days.

you wouldn’t lie that the new choreo played a big part in your thoughts about quitting. this time it was one particular movement that you refused to do at first. standing in front of your dance partner, you had to roll your hips in circle movement, almost touching your partner’s crotch, while he held you by the waist. awkward? yes. uncomfortable? obviously. too little words to describe your feelings.

you didn’t know, if minho felt the same way, but he never complained once, while you talked to the dance teacher several times about this move. the only response you got was that you need to grow up and it’s just dancing, not fucking. of course.

“one-two-three-four!” dance teacher was counting down, while whole group was repeating that particular part of the choreo once again. “one-two-three-four!”

you circled your hips, feeling minho’s hands on your waist. he didn’t look at you once, while you were repeating this part for the past few minutes - you could see him looking to the side in the mirror.

that’s how he usually behaved - ignored your existence, talked to you only when it was really needed. it was like you were not even there for him.

“good! a couple more times and we’ll move to the next part! let’s repeat that with previous moves and add this at the end! with music now!”

everyone nodded. it was a relief being able to finally go through choreo with music.

following the tempo, you began to do long-learned movements. minho gave you his hand at the right moment, spun you around in place, then turned you to face the mirror, preparing you for the next part of the choreo.

“one-two-three-four!” counting began again, echoing through the walls of the studio.

as always, you put all your passion into the movements. you were precise in the placement of your arms and legs, not wanting to be inferior to minho in anything.

“now the hip part! one-two-three-four!”

you rolled your hips at the count, maybe too passionately, carried on with the thought of beating minho in this unspoken dance battle, cause you forgot that the distance between your ass and minho’s crotch was too little to begin with. it was a soft sigh that reached your ears, causing you to stop your movements.

your eyes widened in surprise. you looked in the mirror, making eye contact with minho, but he broke it almost immediately, looking away, hands still on your waist.

did you really just hear that or was it your imagination?

“cmon, girls! i want you to be passionate about this dance! look at y/n and minho, they always give their best, even if choreography seems “too sexy”, as you all say.”

right. too sexy.

“okay, let’s go through this once again, but now i wanna see a good hip movement, girls!” teacher clapped her hands and put the music back on.

you were trembling, but you couldn’t figure out the source of it - fear or anticipation? because of the constant fighting between the two of you, you’ve never had a change to look at minho in this way. and objectively, he was an attractive guy - veiny hands, big muscular thighs and heart-shaped lips. you bet he had abs too, but you’ve never seen his stomach. for some reason, he hid it and wore only oversized t-shirts.

the thought of touching his crotch with your hips again sent chills down your spine. you had to feel him again.

following the countdown, you let your hips circle a little bit wider, making it seems like an accident again. as soon as you felt your ass slightly brush against minho’s crotch, you heard a quiet whimper. the fact that you could hear it over the blasting music made you aware that minho was not holding back. his grip on your waist tightened, as you saw him close his eyes through the mirror.

oh, he was having a boner for sure.

the realization made your pussy throb. you felt yourself getting wet, panties started to soak with your arousal.

this minho? the same minho who constantly bullied you ever since you took your first step into the studio. the same minho who pulled pranks on you and got on your nerves. the same minho who was currently having a boner, because you rubbed your hips against him.

you thought you were dreaming.

without any thinking, driven by pure lust, you scooted closed to minho and brushed your hips against his bulge, but now with more pressure. the sigh that he let out tightened the knot in your stomach. you had no idea where you were going with this, but the sounds this man was making were driving you crazy. thankfully, the teacher was giving harsh comments to the back line, so you had plenty of time to yourselves.

like a cat in heat, you leaned against minho again, leaving no room between your bodies and pressed your ass right into his boner. he responded so readily, whining out, quietly, brokenly. it sounded so pretty it sent tingles down your spine.

you took a look at his face in the mirror again and smirked. his eyes were shut, eyebrows slightly raised and he looked almost helpless as he breathed heavily. the scene was endearing. you would never have thought that you’d see your main rival in such a state.

his boner was obvious now. you could feel him behind you, throbbing in his sweatpants. but for some unknown reason, he was still not grinding against you. he was not doing nothing to prevent your moves against his boner, but he himself was not moving at all, as a matter of fact. his breathing was becoming heavier with every grind of your hips, little puffs of air hitting the back of your neck, his hands twitching on your waist.

it felt amazing. you’ve got yourself so worked up by just grinding against him. his breathing was tickling your neck and you were biting your lip to hide your own moans.

“alright! back to where we left off!” the voice of your teacher was so sudden it made you jump.

oh, how were you gonna be able to keep dancing like this? your panties were so soaked they were leaking through your sweatpants. minho’s face was slightly red. he probably felt even more uncomfortable than you with a throbbing dick between his legs. this problem needed to be sorted out now.

“sorry! i need a quick bathroom break!” you came up with the dumbest excuse and rushed out of the studio hoping that minho would have enough brain cells to understand and follow you along.

the cold air in the hallway helped you get back to your senses a little. there was a layer of sweat on your forehead and it wasn't because of the dance - minho made you feel this way. so now you were standing in the middle of the hallway with your thighs trembling out of nervousness. what will he do? flip you against the wall and say dirty things in your ear? be rough with you and leave read marks on your ass? you couldn’t keep calm while waiting for him.

seconds passed, but minho didn't show up. you decided to take it as a sign of refusal and were about to return to the studio and continue dancing as if nothing had ever happened. but as soon as you put your hand on the door handle, the door swung open and minho literally flew into you, almost knocking you down.

“oh shit! sorry!” he grabbed you by waist, keeping you in place. your eyes collided.

did he just apologize?

never in your life did you think that you’d be able to hear minho saying these words to you in all seriousness.

“it’s… fine. don’t worry. i thought you weren’t coming, so…” suddenly you felt awkward. you were talking to minho like this? in private?

“ah, she made me show some moves again, cause these idiots still can’t remember shit.” minho chuckled, looking at you searchingly under half-closed eyelids.

sexual tension disappeared, so now it was only two of you in the hallway, looking at each other with questioning looks in the eyes.

he was leaning against the door that went back to the studio, so pinning him right here was not an option - he could have been heard.

you decided to take action slowly, since he was looking at you dumbly, as if he had never touched a woman before. slowly you leaned closer to his lips, brushing yours slightly against his. this simple action made him vocal already.

“shh…” you pulled away, put your fingers on his lips. “if you gonna be so whiny, we have to find another place.”

his nod in response made you chuckle. what happened to the usual asshole that you feared? it seemed like a completely new person was in front of you.

it didn’t take long to find a more private place. locker rooms were free since whole group was currently dancing in the studio.

to your surprise, even now minho continued to act like a shy bitch. his eyes were looking anywhere, but at you. it was honestly adorable and made you horny again.

you took a step closer, pinning him against the wall again as your arms slithered their way to his waist. he gasped when your hips pushed him further against the wall and your knee went between his thighs, parting them apart. a muffled whimper escaped his heart-shaped lips. he couldn’t hold back his low whines, desperation evident through his hard-on that you felt twitch under his pants with each grind of your lower body. you decided not to kiss him yet, even though you craved to feel his soft lips on yours.

instead, you trailed kisses down his neck, while you hand began toying with his crotch. that made minho choke out your name in the most pretty and desperate voice. you hummed against his skin as your lips left slick spots on his neck. minho was already falling apart.

there was not much talking, but you desperately wanted to say something, to degrade him like he did you this whole time.

“so weak for me.” you finally spoke. “what happened to your pride? all gone just because you finally felt some pussy on your dick?”

grin appeared on your face as you heard him moan at your words. his dick was already pulsating in your hand. you could feel it through the fabric. he muttered, trying to get his mind back, which turned blank at your movements.

minho was flustered from head to toe. each rub of your palm was accompanied by a gentle thrust of your hips, and minho couldn't hide the little whimpers that came out of his mouth. you smirked, pressing soft kisses on the corner of his mouth, finally capturing your lips together.

hearing his whimpers against your mouth made you even wetter. his lips were soft as you imagined. he was so cute - falling apart under your touch, but still eager to kiss you, moving his lips along with yours. his legs were trembling in place, still trying to process what was happening.

he made a disgruntled sound, his expression jumped to frustrated when you moved away slightly. feeling the cold surface of the wall against his back was a big contrast to how hot you had made him feel in the blink of an eye.

you had never done anything like this. of course, you had a lot of sex experience, but it was mostly an average sex with some occasional dirty talk from your parter. now it was different. minho made you act like this - so dominating, making him feel like he was yours to touch, and yours only.

feeling the confidence, you slid your hand through his waistband, capturing his throbbing dick in your palm. your quick action made his hips buck up in your fist, eyes widened in surprise.

“looks like someone is about to cum untouched.” you teased, starting to stroke his dick, touching the tip of it with your thumb occasionally.

“please, please, don’t stop-“ he looked at you pleadingly, eyes watering. he needed more.

it struck you how easy it was to get him to beg.

“oh, you look so cute right now.” you cooed at him, freeing his throbbing dick out of his pants. it was swollen and painfully hard, the tip of it red, leaking with precum.

minho was seeing stars already. his body was so sensitive, reacting to your touch in this almost embarrassing way. he had never felt like this before.

“please, don’t tease- just- make me cum-“ his eyes were shut, lips parted, revealing his bunny teeth.

“what makes you think I will make you cum?” you asked him, slowing the pace, but still stroking his hard cock with your hand. 

“b-because I’ve been good-” he stammered hopelessly with his words as he tried not to sound so desperate.

you chuckled. “have you? i only remember you’ve been acting like as asshole to me since the day i saw you.”

“‘m sorry-“ he cried out, soft whimpers leaving his mouth. “‘m so sorry, i will be good now.”

“yeah? is that what you’re saying? that you’ll be a good boy?” 

“yes-s…”

“say it.” you squeezed his dick in your fist, making him choke.

“i’ll be a good boy! i promise! i’ll be good! just please-” oh he was a mess. a whiny, whimpering mess under your touch. your words and your attitude made his dick twitch, which didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“you like it when i say stuff like that? you like it rough?” the grip on his dick tightened with these words. “oh, you are such a slut, minho. who would’ve thought.”

minho groaned, both frustrated and unbelievably turned on. you looked up at his face. eyes shut, pretty flush covering his cheeks and ears. you wanted this face on your pussy.

“get on your knees.” you commanded, feeling more powerful than ever. this man made you act like this and you were enjoying using him however you liked.

minho froze for a second, but still obeyed, slowly sitting down with his face right next to your pussy.

your hands immediately found a place on his head, bringing him closer to your crotch. minho let out a whine, but allowed his face to be dragged, shivering when he realized how compliant he was.

“can you smell it, kitten? how good you making me feel?” you rubbed your hips on his face.

oh he looked so unbelievably hot sitting on his knees with his cock out of the pants, precum dripping on the floor, face buried in your clothed pussy.

“yes-s-“ minho hummed into you, sending vibrations with his voice.

“that’s a good boy.” you praised, pulling minho closer. “now lick.”

there wasn’t much friction with his actions, but the fact that minho was sitting on his knees with his soaking dick in plain sight, licking your pussy through the sweatpants, almost made you cum.

low groans were coming from his mouth and sending vibrations through your cunt, making you even wetter. you had to stop him now, or you were gonna cum without even feeling his lips on your clit.

“enough.” you pulled him away with your hand. “take this off and get to work.”

minho swallowed. the way your voice was saying these things like it was a natural occasion for you two.

he quickly brought his hands to your waistband, sliding everything down in one motion.

it amazed him how wet you were for him. honestly, he still thought that it’s some sort of prank and you were about to show the hidden camera and laugh at him. it couldn’t connect in his mind, that your pussy was clenching around his mouth, while you were desperately trying to mute your moans.

a whimper left your mouth when his tongue started circling around your clit. you honestly thought you’re about to pass out. damn, this man really knew how to eat pussy.

then, you felt the pad of his index and middle finger sliding right into your slit. you were too soaked to make him take his hands away and beg to touch you, so you just let him finger you.

his fingers kept going in and out, while lips were making out with your clit. small little whines were leaving him at your taste. you couldn’t help, but started whining as well, holding onto his head.

he quickly realized that you had nothing to hold onto besides his head and your thighs were starting to tremble.

“i think you should-“ he pulled away for a second to gently tapped you on your thigh, signaling that you should move closer to the wall.

now that you had more support, your self-confidence was back and dirty talked continued. minho didn’t even wait for your order, immediately attaching his lips back to your cunt.

"you are such a slut, aren't you-" you moaned.

his puffy lips wrapped around your swollen clit as he sucked, pushing his nose against your cunt. he desperately tried to take more than he could possibly handle.

for some reason, he knew exactly how to please you, exactly how to lick and suck on your clit to have you gasping out for air. slipping his tongue all along your folds and lapping at you eagerly, he couldn’t get enough of your taste. it was supposed to be a punishment for him so that he could fuck you later, but it turned out to be a reward. who knew that minho loved eating pussy. you've completely flooded his senses. the only thing he could smell, the only thing he could taste on his tongue was your pussy.

“such a good boy you are.” uncontrollable moans left your mouth as you kept riding his face. “or should i say kitten? slut? whor-“

suddenly a warm, white load spilled over your leg, cutting you off. minho’s lips left your clit as he kept cumming over the floor and your leg. and all of that because you used some dirty talk?

the flush on his face deepened. broad chest heaved with every pant.

“come on.” you gave him a minute to restore breathing, then bringing him back to your pussy by the hair again. “i’m not done with you.” 

he was a little shaky and boneless from coming, but still obeyed, latching his pretty lips back on your pussy.

the image of him cumming under you untouched and spilling his cum all over your leg replayed in your head, helping you reach you climax quickly. you held onto his hair harder, bringing him impossibly closer to your throbbing pussy, riding his face through your orgasm.

your legs trembled as you almost fell down on the floor, but minho’s strong hands held you in place, tongue never leaving you as you kept cumming.

“wow…” you breathed out after finally being done with your orgasm.

minho was still sitting between your thighs, looked like he liked it there.

flush was still all over his face. you didn’t know of what exactly he was ashamed of, but you guessed it was all together. you sat down in front of him and cupped his cheeks, leaving a quick peck on his lips.

“i don’t know how you really feel, but i am just gonna say, that i enjoyed it and we can talk about it later, if you are not ready now.” you looked into his eyes, making your words clear. “there is no need to be ashamed of anything.”

minho didn’t have time to reply. the approaching sounds of voices made it clear that the training was over and your group was heading here.

minho panicked. he was still in the women's locker room, on his knees with a dick hanging out of his pants. the puddle of cum was still underneath you.

in a matter of seconds, he shoved his dick back into his pants and ran to the door. but he was not fast enough, colliding with one of the girls in the doorway.

she didn’t say anything. just let him run out of the room and then shot you the dirty glare. well, apparently everyone has already found out.

-> reblog to support me, if you enjoyed reading this and please let me know your thoughts in the comments! ♡

masterlist | taglist

[priceyprice]

Simon is not a believer.

He doesn't believe in things like the earth is flat, aliens are green with antlers, superstitions, and other things. He doesn't believe in angels, demons, myths like greek mythology or spirits —instead of ghosts, he believes that spirits are a form of energy and not just a white silhouette of a person—, he's not of a much believer of anything. He hardly has emotions, years of shutting down everything he felt since all his trajectory and his dark past, so there's no way he believes in something.

Oh, that's until he saw her.

The moment he saw her, the thought of not believing in angels was vanished like the thin smoke of a cigarette.

She was standing in front of him, introducing herself like the new member of the team with her sweet voice that sounded like honey dripping from her soft lips. Her face was soft and delicate, something he had never seen before. When she extended her hand for a handshake, the soft texture of her almost melted him on the spot. How can she be a sergeant with that delicate face? How can she kill on the battlefield with those soft hands?

She was a true angel.

A few weeks later, when they were on a mission, Simon realized how much he underestimated her.

She could kill like a demon.

She could kill anyone in matter of seconds. There was no remorse or sympathy behind those pretty eyes the second she stepped into battleground.

Now, Simon believes in angels and demons.

Almost a year later, when Simon finally was in a relationship with her, he discovered other beliefs.

His room was filled with soft moans, whimpers, and the sound of the bed creaking. His hands were on her waist as hers were on his broad shoulders. He was sitting on the edge of the bed while she was on top of him riding him like her life depended on it.

Their kisses were messy and sloppy, teeth clashing and tongues fighting for dominance, not caring of anyone who would pass in front of the room, abusing of his power as they know no one will snitch on the lieutenant.

Her hands roamed down to his chest, taking him by surprise when she pushed him down so he was lying completely on his bed. His eyes found hers, confused about why she used all that force on him, thinking maybe she didn't wanna do it anymore.

Before he could process what was happening again, she started to ride him again faster. A low growl formed on her throat.

Simon hissed and closed his eyes for a second. "Fuck... you're too fast."

"I don't care." She answered, almost sounding like a whimper.

His hands flew to her hips, and he opened his eyes, only to found the most perfect view he could ever had.

Her hair was disheveled, his impatient hands taking the blame for all her strands in different directions. Her expression was contorted to one of pure ecstasy and a few rebel strands of hair and droplets of sweat adorning her forehead. Her skin was glowing like the morning sun rising up behind the mountains. Her hips moved like the waves on a night with a full moon. Her soft skin against his was like the clouds adorning the very blue sky.

That's when Simon came to the realization that he believed in something more.

In goddesses.

She looked like a total goddess trying to search for her release, panting and sweating, up and down, using him for reaching that state of pure bliss.

When they finished, they lay down on his bed, hugging each other without saying anything. Skin red and sweaty, covers dirty and wrinkled, room smelling like sex and their scents. They didn't care as long as they were embracing each other and forgetting about the world after his room door.

At that moment, Simon started to believe in something else.

Heaven.

As much as he wanted to avoid the bitter events, he couldn't simply do it. One day, on a mission trying to find a gang leader and a human trafficker, they kidnapped his lover. Leaving no trace behind to have a clue and save her.

The way his heart fell from his chest was worse than any other things he had experienced in life. Those gang members took away his reason to live, his reason to breathe, his reason to love.

Simon discovered another belief that day.

Hell.

And he will bring hell to every person who touched even a single strand of hair from his lover.

He will bring the devil himself just to save her.

[Part 1 here]

[Part 3 here]

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[charliemwrites]

Since I’ve been going pretty hard on dark fics lately….

Who’s up for some childhood friend Simon?

In his worst moments, when he thinks of his inevitable premature and violent end, he hopes that he’ll be able to hold out long enough to die in your arms. Even if they have to fly him straight from the battlegrounds to you, lay him in the grass outside your flat, he wants your face and voice that puts him to his final sleep.

Most moments aren’t his worst moments. But he still thinks of you and prepares. Everything is going to you, of course. Price knows. You’ll get Simon’s tags, his mask, a flag. You’ll get a letter.

He started one night after you two reunited, a little drunk from a thank-fuck-we-survived post mission celebration. It’s a little wobbly and ramble in some places, but never threw it out - never reread it either. Finished it in one hour, three pages long.

He’s added onto it since then. On hard night, nights he misses you. When he’s nostalgic and tipsy, when he wakes up from nightmares soaked in your blood. It’s about 12 pages now. Different colors of ink, different types of pages. Even one slanted and awkward because his writing hand was broken so he had to use the other.

He doesn’t bring it home to you with him. Doesn’t want you to accidentally discover it and think it’s something else. It stays where Johnny will find it if the worst happens; Simon trusts him to give it to you.

He never really thought about it the other way round. Couldn’t stand to face the prospect again. Not when he can feel the bullet scar beneath your shirt sometimes, or sees you rubbing at it in cold weather.

(He doesn’t consider it his worst moments but he knows you would - that he’d crawl in that grave with you.)

But it’s almost happened again. You’re sitting caddy-corner to him at a briefing table, listening to Price as he explains the situation. Simon’s watching you watching Price. Your shoulders are relaxed, fingers fiddling with your temporary access card. Not nervous, just occupied while you focus.

You’re not worried at all. Simon feels like he’s falling apart right here. One shake of the stupid uneven table and all his pieces will just slide apart into a useless pile.

Without looking away, your hand slides across the table and hooks around his. He doesnt startle - he’s ghost right now, and ghost is rock solid - but his fingers twitch around yours. You shoot him a quick smile and then refocus on Price, picking at a worn patch on the skeleton design of Simon’s glove.

Duct tape for a collapsing soul.

Price concludes, “You’ll stay here, safe and sound with an escort.”

Simon speaks up for the first time in what feels like days.

“I’m not bein’ deployed, skipper. Not right now.”

Price snorts. “‘Course not. You’re on leave with little miss here in sweden.”

“Sweden,” Simon repeats, unimpressed. Not one of the Laswell’s better lies.

“Land of tall blondes,” you chime.

“No one else knows I’m a blond.”

You shrug. “Their loss.”

Simon snorts, you grin, and Price dismisses you both in short order.

You’re staying in Simon’s room; the captain didn’t even offer you temporary quarters. Not that you minded, happy to toss your things amongst his and climb into his bed.

He cleans his favorite gun impulsively at the desk while you futz around on his computer - probably investigating the latest set of unreleased movies he bribed from Laswell.

“You get ten minutes of brooding left and then we’re getting food and watching a movie.”

He scowls down at the magazine, oiled cloth in hand.

“I’m not brooding.”

“It’s like you have your own lighting. I swear those shadows are darker next to you.”

“That’s just how light works.”

“Oh it would have been so much cooler if you said, like, ‘I am the shadows’.”

He pauses, casts you a long, flat look. You beam.

“Ooh, yeah, with that face too! C’mon, say it!”

He blows out a dramatic breath, then grumpily repeats, “I am the shadows.”

You laugh, hopping up from the bed to approach. He shifts his gear out of the way, clearing a space for you to lean against his desk, your knee touching his.

“Im alright, Si. There’s nowhere safer I could be.”

He sets the pieces in his hands aside, flexes his fingers spasmodically.

“Could just not know me. Anywhere would be safer than knowing me.”

You click your tongue, purely derisive. “That’s stupid.”

“That’s just facts, babes.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s your guilt complex. There’s nowhere I’d rather be than right here.”

He arches his eyebrows - not that you’ll be able to see it past the mask. But you know him well enough to just know.

“Right here?” he challenges. “On a military base? With who fuckin’ knows out to get you? Just because you lived two doors down from me in kindergarten?”

You sigh, that one that tells him you’re employing extra patience purely out of love and experience.

“Right here, Si. Wherever you are,” you confirm.

“Should cut your losses,” he says, trying his best impression of the machine he became after he lost everyone but you. He’s never felt less protected in the mask.

As always, you see right through him.

“A bullet couldn’t take me from you, Simon Riley. The ‘Ghost’ doesn’t stand a chance.” You curl your fingers around the back of his neck, duck down until your forehead knocks against the hard mask’s. “Because it’s me n’ you ‘til the sun stops rising.”

An oath made of picked daisies and shared blood. The weight of it presses on his chest so hard he feels buried again. Layers of earth crushing him, you up above, the only heaven he knows or needs.

“Me ‘n you,” he rasps.

You let him stay like that another moment. Absorbing the warmth of your fingertips, crept beneath the edge of the balaclava. Breathing with you until he’s sure you’re synched. Heart, breath, blood, down to the firing of your neurons.

“Alright, no more brooding. You’ll feel better with some food.”

Simon exhales, sloughing off the gloom and pessimism that weighs on Ghost’s shoulders. You’re here, right here. Nothing will happen to you when he’s still breathing.

“Think I have a few more minutes.”

“Nah, it compounds when I brood with you.”

“You brood like a rainbow broods.”

You snort and flick at his mask, tugging him up with you towards the door. He lets himself settle, listening to your cheerful babble all the way to the mess.

[thehighladywrites]

The Airhead Chronicles

…and the date

-> pairing: cassian x bimbo/ditzy reader

-> summary: finally the day is here, you’re going on a date with cassian!! now you just have to prepare and get ready for it. Cassian is prepared to finally ask you some questions and the mention of your secret friend rubs him the wrong way. But how does the date go, and who on earth opens the door at Cassian’s friends house?…

-> warnings: suggestive themes, nsfw, smut, super fluff, light angst, public sex, yeah, none of you care about getting caught fucking in a restaurant, oral (m.receiving) , bargain tattoos, almost oral (f.receiving), wing play, daddy kink

-> amara’s note: I think this is one of my fav things to write, I really love ditzy reader, she's so fun and cute.

part 1 part 2

Startled by a sudden knock, you quickly stood up, intrigued by the unexpected visitor. Opening the door, you were met with a smiling man.

“Hi there pretty lady, are you Y/n?” he asked. After exchanging pleasantries, he handed you a paper and a pen, insisting you sign.

Curious, you replied, “Oh, what’s this for, I’m pretty sure I didn’t order anything, or did I?” Sensing your confusion, the man stepped closer and pointed a finger at a dotted line. “Just sign here, baby. How about I come in and show you?”

Normally, you'd agree to some help because you didn’t really like reading long and confusing papers, but with your date approaching, you looked at him apologetic and declined.

“Sorry, maybe next time. I'm getting ready for a date with this really hot guy, and I have a lot of things to do. But why am I signing this?”

His face turned sour, and he threw a bouquet of flowers at you, muttering something about a special delivery before you signed. He left without saying goodbye, and you tilted your head, wondering if you said something to upset him.

The confusion quickly left your mind when you looked down, eyes wide, and heart beating faster as a huge smile spread on your lips. The bouquet was wrapped around white and pink baby breaths and peonies. You let out a shriek of happiness as you spun around and smelled the fresh, fragrant flowers. They were unlike anything else, handled with care and professionalism.

Scurrying to the kitchen, you pulled out a vase from your cabinets as you filled it with water to put your flowers in. While you fiddled with the petals, you saw a note attached as you opened it.

Reading the note, your eyes lit up with excitement. You twirled around, a broad grin on displayed, absorbing the message:

“Can’t wait to see you tonight, beautiful. I will pick you up, just be ready by 8. - Cassian.”

You halted your twirl, taking a deep breath.

Fucking Gods, you had to look absolutely stunnig, like drop-dead gorgeous. The sexiest dress was a non-negotiable, paired with a cute bag. Your hair needed to be freshly styled, and ohhh, a fresh set of nails was a must, even though it hadn't been a week since your last set.

Let’s be real, you knew you were pretty and didn’t need someone to tell you that, but it was nice to hear nonetheless, especially from Cassian. It was weird, you had known him for just over a week and already you felt a connection to him.

With your plans set, you dove into the whirlwind of preparation. The closet became a battleground of choices as you sifted through dresses, searching for the one that screamed "fuck me right now, please." The chosen outfit hung proudly on the door, awaiting its moment. A stunning sheer black dress with a v-neck, a thigh-high slit, and the best part - it sparkled.

Your hair received the full treatment of preparation and care, making you wonder how you’d display it tonight—curls, an updo, low bun or straight? The decision was as crucial as the dress itself, because what if you wanted to blow him? A ponytail would be ideal, but if you were gonna be fucked missionairy then a ponytail would be super uncomfy. Maybe just some curls then? Yes, you definitely wanted some bouncy curls resulting in you pulling out your hair rollers and pins. It was such a pain to put them on because your arms hurt from keeping them up but you didn’t care. Finally, a cute little bag accompanied the ensemble, adding that perfect touch paired with some simple heels.

The urgency for flawlessness led you to contemplate a fresh set of nails. Despite the recent pampering, the allure of perfection beckoned, and you found yourself on the way to the nail salon. After all, a week felt like an eternity when it came to looking drop-dead gorgeous.

As the appointment at the nail salon progressed, you debated between daring and classic shades. The manicurist, familiar to your frequent visits, skillfully crafted a fresh set that made you smile so hard, your face started hurting, letting out an excited sound.

With your nails perfected, you rushed home to continue the transformation, hair and makeup being the last step. Your dress clung to you like a second skin, accentuating every curve. Your reflection in the mirror confirmed your pursuit of drop-dead hotness. Smiling at yourself you adjusted your hair before putting on your jewelry, marveling at the final result. You really hoped Cassian would compliment you otherwise you’d die. His attention was so addicting and you wanted to be around him every single second for some reason.

Glancing at the clock, you realized the incoming arrival of Cassian. The butterflies in your stomach intensified as you added the finishing touches, ready to open the door to a night filled with excitement and allure.

“Hi Cassie!!” Your smile subdued a bit as you shifted nervously when he just stared at you not saying anything. Should you have worn something different? Maybe gone with the pink you wanted? Maybe he didn’t like your hair…

Cassian stood at the door, his eyes widening as he took in your stunning transformation. His brain seemed to short-circuit, and he simply stared at you with his jaw open, momentarily lost for words in the face of your breathtaking appearance. The snug fabric around your frame made blood rush to his cock, a reaction that almost tempted him to slap his own face. "Am I some kind of teenager or something, gods," he thought to himself, caught in the unexpected whirlwind of emotions your presence stirred.

“Hi sweetheart, fuck, you look absolutely breathtaking,” he managed to exclaim, a genuine smile lighting up his face. He spun you around, getting a good luck at you as your perfume filled his nose. Blushing at the compliment, you replied with a happy smile. “Thank you, Cassie. I'm so excited for tonight! Where are we going?”

He offered his arm, and you linked yours with his as you both stepped into the night, ready for the date that awaited. “Don’t worry your pretty, little head about it, it’s a surprise, sweet girl.”

Thank fuck he held you, because you could barely stand with the way your knees wobbled. The urge to just shove him in an alley and give him some life-changing head was just too strong. Cassian looked soooo freaking hot, dressed in a well-fitted suit.His hair had been put in a half bun, arms looking soooo massive, and an inexplicable desire to bite them tugged at your thoughts.

Caught in the spell of his side profile , the world around you seemed to fade into the background. Cassian’s voice became a distant hum as your eyes glued to him.

Your mind went hazy as you found yourself daydreaming about him, captivated by the allure of the moment.

Cassian halted mid-sentence in his talk about the restaurant when he noticed your silence. Curiosity painted his expression as he looked down at you, only to find you hazily looking up at him. Your plump lips were slightly parted, and your eyes were wide and sparkly, lost in a momentary enchantment.

Cassian was going to treat himself to some of Rhysands expensive liquor, it was truly something magical about his restraint. The way you looked up to him made his cock painfully hard. There was something submissive and desperate in your gaze. Before he cancelled the night and took you to his room to fuck you senseless, he broke the silence, chuckling, “I must be boring you with all this restaurant talk. What’s on your mind?”

You blinked, snapping out of the enchantment, and mumbled while feeling warm. “Um, no, not at all, Cassie. I was just… appreciating the view.”

His eyebrows lifted in playful surprise, “The view? Of me?”

You nodded with a secretive grin, “Guilty… I mean I can’t help it. You look so handsome. Now tell me about the restaurant.” The conversation resumed, but the sparkle of that moment lingered, adding an extra layer of magic to the evening.

Your brows furrowed as you read the menu. What on earth was an entrecôte? Foie gras? Was that some sort of joke? It was infuriating and you just wanted some food. Looking up at Cassian, you noticed he had already decided and was looking through the wine list. Feeling helpless, you whispered to him, “Um Cassie, I don’t know what this means. If any of this means mushrooms and cilantro, then let me know, they’re super yucky.”

He took your menu and brought your hand up to place a kiss on it, “Don’t worry, pretty girl. I’ll take care of it. How does chicken sound?” You nodded, grateful for the escape from the decision-making. Ugh, was being pretty and living too hard? You just wanted to exist without thinking about annoying things.

Cassian certainly eased it for you.

“Uh-huh, yes please,” you replied. He tilted his head, a playful smile playing on his lips. “My, what good manners you have. A good girl indeed.”

The echo of Cassian calling you a good girl sent a shiver down your spine, nearly sending you into a dreamy state. Resisting the magnetic pull of his warmth became a challenge.

Would it really hurt though? Cassian had rented out an entire section of the restaurant for your date, the only other person you’d see during the whole night was a waiter who kept away unless he was serving you food.

Unable to resist any longer, you inched toward him, lifting yourself. Cassian, sitting manspread, welcomed you onto one of his thighs. As you settled, his arm snaked behind your back, keeping you securely in place as you slung your arm over his shoulder while the other traced circles and shapes on his chest. The world outside this private bubble faded, leaving just the two of you in a cocoon of shared warmth and intimacy.

The waiter discreetly approached, and Cassian smoothly placed the order, his attention never wavering from you. The world outside this secluded moment ceased to exist. He was so content he almost forgot one of the reasons he had been so desperate to see you again. Placing a sweet kiss on your cheek and neck, he asked.

“ I’ve been wondering,” he began, his eyes holding a mixture of curiosity and concern, “ There’s not a lot a know about you, and i’d like to change that. I mean have you always lived in Velaris?” You hummed and answered cheerfully, “ No, I used to live in the Hewn City but a friend helped me move here. My family still live there but they think I live in the Day Court, since Velaris is a secret city and all.”

He observed you carefully, wondering what possible friend could’ve gotten you into Velaris without him or the inner circle knowing? Velaris wasn’t some place one just moved to, it was a secret and protected city, warded against anyone who wasn’t welcome. Your answer only made him more curious.

“Yeah, your friend helped you? Do they live here?” You giggled as you looked at him with a “duh” look.

“Of course my friend still lives here, what a silly question! We meet once a month to catch up and he sometimes brings the family to our get-togethers.”

“ How fun, sweet girl. You’ll have to introduce me to your friend, yeah?” you leaned in as his arm became a comforting weight around your waist.

“Yay, that would be so much fun! He’s like this super old guy that I work for but I promise he’s really funny and his wife is such a sweetheart, I love her.” His heart thundred at the excitement you unknowingly pushed through the bond, making him crack a huge smile. Heavens, your were so adorable, he wanted to see you smile forever. “Is he a good boss then? What is it you do for him?” Flashing him a secret smile, you leaned in conspiratorially as you started playing with the buttons of his crisp white shirt.

“I wish I could tell you Cassie, but it’s tip-top secret and I’m bound to never, ever in a million years tell a single soul. I even have this cool tattoo for it.” You whispered as if afraid anyone would hear you before pulling down the strap of your dress and showing him the bargain tattoo.

Cassian's expression froze, his mind racing to fathom the deal you might have struck. Did you grasp the consequences of Night Court's bargain tattoos? The kind of searing fucking pain that awaited anyone attempting to breach its secrecy? The instincts that come with a mating bond made him feel murdereous at the thought of anyone striking a dangerous deal with his mate.

He didn’t want you experiencing the pain of accidentally telling him about the bargain, so he dropped the subject completely, picking up new things to talk about. While waiting for the meal, you tried to attentively listen as Cassian, the general and commander of the Night Court as he had told you, told you the tales of his thrilling adventures and loving family. But he sometimes used big words that made you tilt your head in confusion, he had however noticed it early on and switched to more simple terms, ensuring your understanding of the topic.

Of all of your years living, you had never felt so safe and cared for as you did here with Cassian. Sure your parents never laid hands on you but they certainly didn’t like you very much, calling you incapable and downright stupid. It hurt you, it really did because you tried but it simply wasn’t as easy as it sounded. Cassian, this gorgeous man, noticed you didn’t understand but he didn’t outright dumb it down for you.

He… just used another word with the same meaning he explained and it really made you happy. Because for some reason, his approval and attention was necessary for you to function and you literally couldn’t imagine him ever being disappointed in you.

After dessert was served, Cassian told the waiter and the chef that you were done eating and paid the bill, leaving a generous tip. They left you all alone in your section and the seclusion made you more bold. You certainly didn’t care if anyone saw you blowing him or anything but… it felt more intimate doing in just for him. You were still sat on his thigh as he spoon fed you the delicious chocolate cake.

Chills ran down your arms upon locking eyes with Cassian, and from your position, you explored his face, fingertips tracing a scar along his eyebrow. Your hand moved over his cheekbones, jaw, nose, and finally, his flawless lips. Drawing close, you both whispered intimately, “Can I kiss you, sweetheart?” he rasped, to which you replied in a hushed tone, “Yes, please, Cassie.”

With a tender murmur he said, “my perfect girl,” his soft lips met yours.

As the kiss unfolded, time seemed to slow, encapsulating you both in a world of shared warmth and intimacy. Cassian's lips, soft against yours, the room faded away, leaving only the electric energy between you two. You had kissed plenty people before, but nothing felt as addictive and pleasurable as this.

Cassian’s body shaped perfectly against yours as he pulled you on his lap, making you straddle his hips, legs on either side of him as your dress bunched. His hair was pulled out of his bun as you dragged your manicured nails across his scalp.

He out out a groan as his hands found your hips, his hold tightening as he ground upwards making you moan at the contact.

Breaking the kiss, Cassian's eyes held a newfound tenderness and hunger. “You're something else, you know that?” he whispered, his voice carrying a mix of admiration and affection. A shared smile lingered between you, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken emotions that had just passed between your lips.

A loud shatter was heard as you looked up panting, absolutely forgetting that you two may have a section rented out, but you were still out in public and if anyone wanted to stretch their legs, they certainly wouldn’t miss you grinding in Cassian’s lap, lips puffy and hair tousled.

Cassian couldn’t have cared less even of he tried to. Being the lord of bloodshed, the general leading the armies of the night court, and one of the greatest warriors in the history of Prythian granted Cassian liberties in his eyes. Unlike ordinary fae males, he wasn't restricted from openly displaying affection for his mate at any time or place. There wasn’t a person on earth that could tell him what to do with you.

Fucking in public didn’t scare him or make him feel embarrassed. No, Cassian fucking loved the thrill of being caught. Loved the little voice in his head telling him that someone would be walking in on him pleasuring his mate, your face scrunched up in pleasure as someone catches you, your heartbeat quickening at the taboo scene.

But he’d never in his life put you in a position that made you uncomfortable, he’d rather chop his cock off. So he looked at your face, searching for any fear.

“You okay? Wanna stop, baby?” The thought of you getting off his lap and feeling shame or embarrasement was enough to make him feel nauseous. But that all quickly left when you looked down at him with blushy cheeks, a wide grin on your face as you laughed. “Wow, that sounded really close. Guess you better fuck me quickly Cassie, we wouldn’t want someone to catch us, now would we? I mean that would be soooo bad and we’d be kicked out, right?”

Cassian easily detected the false concern written all over your face. There was a blend of amusement, warmth, and hunger in your expression. You playfully pouted, furrowing your brows in mock thinking as you tilted your head.

Looking up darkly at you he flashed you a feral grin, furrowing his brow in mock thinking. “Of course. It would be very, very bad if someone caught me with my head between your legs, I mean whatever would we do?”

You stood up, hopping up on the table in front of him, propped up like a post-dessert treat with your legs spread infront of his hungry gaze.

“ Let’s find out. I think you missed some of your dessert, baby. Come eat me up, Cassie…” He put his hands around your ankles as he removed your heels, then hissed when he felt your stocking-clad foot rub against his strained cock. Your eyes caught his wings ruffling as curiosity prompted your question.

“Cassie, why are your wings so big? Can I touch them or would it hurt?”

His wings rustled, then tightened in instinct. Illyrian wings were absolutely not to be touched by anyone without invitation, they were to be protected at any cost. His people had been taught to never let anyone get close enough to them, often punching first and then asking questions if someone ever touched them.

“No, sweet girl, they wouldn’t hurt if you touched them. It’s just a sacred part of me that I as an Illyrian protect with my life.” You observed the intricate patterns on his wings, fascinated by the interplay of light and shadow, gold and read hues swirling.

Cassian, sensing your curiosity, continued, “Touching them is a privilege reserved for the one I’ll one day trust deeply, a gesture of profound connection between two mates.” His gaze held a promise, hinting at a deeper connection yet to unfold. You slumped slighty as you realized that you probably weren’t his mate and quickly lowered you rising hand.

“Oh, okay then. They seem really cool anyways, your future mate is quite lucky huh?” Your eyes met his own filled with longing and hope.

Growing up in The Hewn City, the stories of mates filled your imagination, creating a yearning for a connection forged by The Mother Herself. However, your parents swiftly dismissed any ideas of such fantasies, emphasizing a more practical approach to your future. The concept of a deep, equal partnership and lover was a cherished daydream, overshadowed by the reality your parents presented.

Amidst gossip with friends about the mysterious idea of mates, your parents insisted on abandoning these fairytales. Their focus remained fixed on preparing you for a marriage that would secure wealth and influence, mirroring the traditions of countless pairs in the city. The prospect of bringing shame to the family loomed as an unthinkable consequence, one that could lead to disownment or in some cases death.

You were incredibly fortunate to have made a friend that helped you out, otherwise you’d probably be some unhappy bride whose only task would be baby-making and keeping quiet.

Your eyes filled with tears as you started thinking about the male infront of you. If the bond hadn’t snapped for you yet, then you probably weren’t mates and it made you sick thinking that there was someone else out there who’d snatch Cassian up. A hand brushing up your calf brought you back to reality as you were met with eyes filled with worries.

“No, hey, what's going on, sweetheart? Why are you crying, hm?” Cassian asked, concern etched across his face. Overwhelmed by sadness, you slumped forward, letting out deep sobs.

"Don't think m’your mate, Cassie. I really, really wanna be with you forever, but you'll probably choose your mate if they ever come along. Also, I probably have a mate somewhere, and I feel like we shouldn't keep going because I'm falling for you, like really hard, and I really don't think I'd survive it if we ended things before they even really started.”

Your wrecked sobs made him sick with guilt. The realization that he was the cause of your tears hit hard. His hands found their way to your back, gently caressing it as he tried to provide comfort. Unable to bear it any longer, he blurted out the words before more sobs could escape,

“ I’m your mate. I felt the bond snap the first time we met, baby. I didn’t want to you to feel like you had to accept the bond or feel pressured to discover it. I wished for you to find out on your own, at your own pace. And I’m truly sorry for the pain i’ve caused you. If I had known this was something you really wanted, I would’ve told you straight away, sweet girl. I was wrong to assume and I’m deeply sorry. Please forgive me?”

Cassian’s words hung in the air, a revelation that shifted the atmosphere between you. Stunned, you looked up, eyes searching his for any sign of anger or irritation at your sudden breakdown or any deception. His gaze, however, held a sincerity that echoed in the depths of your shared connection, held a mix of pain, guilt and sadness paired with hope.

“You’re really mine? My mate?” the question was carried by your whispering voice. Cassian nodded and confirmed,

“Yes, i’m yours as you are mine.” The words triggered that golden bond, snapping the thread of life and love deep in your chest. Holding a hand to your chest, you looked at him breathing deeply.

“Mate. You’re my mate!” you shrieked and kissed all over his face, ending with a big kiss on his lips, making him laugh.

“Um, so can i now touch ‘em?” you questioned as you nodded your head in the direction of his massive wings. His back straightened and he explained,

“My wings have never been out during intimate encounters with females. It makes me feel vulnerable and I don’t like it. But for you… for you I’d pluck the stars from the night sky if you asked me. Go ahead, sweetheart but be careful they can be quite-”

He didn’t even finish his sentence when he felt your warm hands caressing the ridge of his leathery wings. Cassian twisted in his seat when you went over a certain spot. His whole body flashed with warmth, leaving a trail of goosepumps as his stomch flipped.

His face revealed delight, accompanied by low groans as your nails traced over the delicate wing. Intrigued, you inquired about the sensation. He leaned in, softly blowing air near your ear, eliciting goosebumps and a slight arch in your body.

He knew he’d come undone if you kept touching him so he picked you up, swept everything away from the table and put you on your back. Perhaps he should’ve been more quiet because when the waiter hurriedly came to check on the broken dishes, he received a savage snarl, so unlike the usually levelheaded male.

“ Get. Out.” Your mate gritted towards the poor fae. He’d make sure to leave another huge tip, but he didn’t have time to think of it now that the bond was so fresh and there was a male staring down his half naked mate. Cassian finally turned his attention to you when you grabbed his cock through his slacks.

“ c’mon mate, need you so bad, please.” you grabbed the back of his head, smashing his lips against yours as you whined and mumbled about needing his cock inside you. Any sort of foreplay was out of the question, you’d play later. You felt like you might literally die if you didn’t feel him closer to you right now.

You were consumed by an overwhelming desperation, feeling as if you'd burst out of your skin without his immediate presence. The ache for more of him intensified, a desperate longing for his touch to ravage you entirely. Tears welled in your eyes as you begged, desperate to be fucked right there, yearning to be claimed by your mate.

The desperation in your voice spurred cassian on as his hands skillfully removed his belt, pulling out his hard cock as he slid in and out, again and again and again. Rocking the table as he thrust into you hard, filling you up deliciously. Your mouths found each other in a deep kiss as you pulled his hair, earning a deep groan.

“You’re so fucking beautiful all spread out for me. My precious mate,” he mumbled against you. 

 “mmh, harder please- fucking me soo gooddd” You moaned. The pleasure was building up in your belly making you squirm against him “Please, daddy, let me cum.”

He halted all his movements, pulling you out of your bubble of pleasure. Why did he stop? You felt your high fizzle down as you felt tears in your eyes. “Cassie, why did you stop? I almost finished… s’not fair” you whined, crossing you arms as you looked away, feigning disbelief and anger.

You seriously hadn’t noticed what you called him? Were you fucked out already? Well, whatever. Cassian’s ego boosted immensely at the fact that you had mindlessly called him daddy.

“You’re so good for me, such a beautiful, beautiful girl. My mate makes me proud.”

His praise made you simultaneously melt against his body yet tighten around his cock as a new rush of slick gushed out of you. Bringing his one hand to your nipple while the other played with your clit, Cassian was determined to make you cum then take you home. It had to be your house because he really couldn’t promise he wouldn’t attack Rhys or Azriel if they laid their eyes on you, let alone saw your vulnerable, fucked out state.

The simultaneous pleasure made your head spin as you grabbed his arm to steady youself.

“feels..” you swallow the glob of saliva pooling on your tongue. “f-feels s’good, daddy. m’gonna cum…” His thrusts didn’t slow down as he was met by your relaxed expression - your eyes had crossed as your tongue lolled out a bit, making you drool. A few more pumps and he felt his knees wobble with intensity. You screams of pleasure were muffled by his hand as you came.

“gotta be quiet baby, lest someone catches us” groaning out the last part, Cassian pumps once, twice and finishes deep inside with as he slumps forward, head nuzzled against your neck, breathing in your intoxicating scent.

Driven by the fresh mating bond, he succumbed to a primal urge, covering your naked and relaxed form. Desperation fueled his actions, and protective instincts surged as he struggled with the dilemma of getting you home without causing harm, his every move tinged with the urgency of preserving your safety.

Wanting more, you pull him closer and wrap your legs around him. “daddy, i want more. please let’s go home because the table is kinda uncomfy n i wanna be on my bed instead.” Hands slither around you, pulling you up with as you clung to him. He drops a stack of money on the table to cover what he destroyed plus an appreciation for leaving him alone, gods know he would’ve shown no restraint if that waiter had been a little more bold.

“ s’okay cas i got this,” the whole restaurant fades into black before a cozy porch is replaced with the murmur of the restaurant. You’d winnowed home but not inside, leaving you right outside the door.

“ Sweetie, is your house warded or are you capable of winnowing inside too?” you shook your head and giggly responded,

“ mm, no, my house is protected from bad guys and only people i want can get inside. My friend fixed it for me, he’s super nice and you should totally meet him sometime.” The mention of another guy leaving your lips was enough for Cassian to make his eyes twitch but you looked so happy so he just nodded in agreement.

Opening the door, you welcomed Cassian into your cozy house. As he stepped in, his widened as his eyes roamed across the spacious hallway featuring a body-length mirror, perfect for a quick self-check before heading out, you told him. The hall led to a spacious living room with high ceilings exuding luxury, and the massive kitchen boasted pink appliances, a charming detail that seemed to define your style, he noticed.

His smile widened as he took in the cutesy and predominantly pink decor scattered throughout the house. It was a unique touch that resonated with your personality. As you guided him up the stairs, he marveled at the size of the home, realizing it was quite spacious for a single person.

Passing by several empty rooms, you finally opened the grand bedroom. The king-sized bed with frilly white sheets and an array of pink pillows dominated the space, surrounded by what seemed like an army of stuffed animals, a table adorned with the flowers he sent you this morning. Turning to the left he say your huge closet with clothes littered over the floor. You ran and closed the door behind you, leaning against it as you let out a nervous laugh, “ oh, that’s just my closet. it’s a bit messy so let’s just not look there.”

You bit your lips as your eyes squinted in the dim light. He looked so delicious and you wanted more. wanted your mate, closer. Despite being mere feet apart, an insatiable need for closeness overcame you. Closing the gap, you kissed him, reigniting the connection that began at the restaurant, determined to continue it throughout the night.

The night with your mate unfolded in a series of intimate moments, he put you in new positions and taught you pleasures you never imagined. His expertise left you in a constant state of bliss, with every moment dedicated to mutual satisfaction. You had slept for about an hour or two before going at it again when he stood up and stretched, the sight enough for you to tackle him and ride him right there on your fluffy carpet.

As dawn approached, you marveled at the fact that you had enough restraint to let him slip away and prepare breakfast. The lingering sensations and shared experiences had created a bond that extended beyond the physical, making the morning after feel like a continuation of the enchanting night. Now you laid in the protective arms of you lover, looking at him while biting your lips to keep from pouncing in him.

“If you keep staring at me like that, we won't leave the house ever,” you looked away from his gaze, blushing furiously.

“Maybe I don't wanna leave the house. I wanna be with you forever and ever, cassie” you whispered, nestling closer and kissing his cheek, a familiar gesture of affection.

He chuckled warmly, deeply and kissed you back before your broke the kiss.

“Cas, you mentioned your friends live here. Can I meet them? You spoke about them like you really, really love them,”you inquired, sensing a shift in the air as his grip tightened around you.

“Another time, sweetheart. Right now, I need you alone. I can't even think about leaving you,” he confessed, his tone carrying a protective intensity.

“Do you know much about the mating bond?” you explained that you knew it was two people fated together in a perfect match but that was all your parents allowed you to know. He nodded and explained,

“A newly mated couple can be very... let's say, unstable. There have been many cool and collected males and females who lost their minds when someone laid their eyes on their mate for too long. Sane people have abandoned all critical thinking wherever their mate is involved. Their first and only thought is their mate’s safety and happiness. People have died for provoking newly-mated. So, please, give me a little time because there's a very likely chance I might kill someone for looking at you a bit too much." This…frenzy will cool down after a while but it’s very intense when it’s so new.”

The gravity in his words conveyed the depth of his commitment and the primal instincts that fueled it.

You were fucked in the head for sure because the realization that Cassian would fiercely protect you, even kill someone for you, sent a thrilling shiver down your spine, an unconventional yet undeniably arousing form of desire.

Without a word, you shuffled down, ready to express your gratitude and desire in a way that words could never fully convey, letting your mouth and hands express your love and gratitude.

—

For almost three weeks, you reveled in the cocoon of intimacy, exploring every inch of each other's souls and bodies within the confines of your shared space. Cassian's presence became a comforting constant, and there wasn't a single room in the house that he hadn’t fucked you in. Repeatedly.

However, the inevitable reality of his responsibilities tugged at Cassian's conscience. His jaw tightened, and his eyes darkening slightly as he confessed,

“I hate to say this, baby, but I have to go back. My family is looking for me, and they're worried.”

A pout formed on your lips as the idea of him leaving weighed heavily on your heart.

“You really gotta go?” Your doe-eyes mirrored the sadness and pain of his departure, glossing over in tears at the thought of him not being by your side.

One look into your eyes and he knew there was no chance he could leave you.

“You know what, fuck that. There's no way I'm leaving you. So how would you feel about meeting my family?”

Cassian dropping the idea of meeting his family made you think. Would they like you? He always spoke highly of them, and it got you wondering if you'd measure up. You knew you weren't the brightest tool in the shed or however the saying went but you hoped they'd see something in you that's good enough for him. The old voices of your parents kept echoing in your head.

"You're only good if you keep your mouth shut."

"How did I end up with such a dumb daughter?"

"You’re prettier when you don't talk."

Cassian sensed your unease, and he gently took your hands, looking into your eyes with a reassuring smile.

“Hey, don't worry about a thing. My family will adore you as much as I do. You're more than enough, just the way you are.”

His words carried a sincerity that eased the knots in your stomach. You peppered kisses all over his face and mentally thanked him for the reassurance.

He laughed, kissing you and repeating those reassuring words until it was time to leave. Putting on a cute, blue summer dress, you skipped alongside him, blissfully unaware of the imposing aura he now exuded due to the fresh bond.

As the beautiful estate by the river came into view, you marveled at the picturesque landscape. Holding a homemade cake in one hand and Cassian's hand in the other, you both approached the door.

However, huge confusion struck as your eyes widened upon seeing who opened it.

🏷️ taglist: @justasillylittlegoofyguy

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

Pacified

Trafalgar D. Water Law x Reader

a/n: set after the fight on Wano.

Summary: Law is afraid of love, big shocker

The tavern was crowded but there was no doubt in Law’s mind that it was you burning a hole in the back of his head. Your gaze was like fire, and he felt a prickly feeling on the base of his neck, so much so, that he rubbed at it. His cheeks burned as he finally looked over his shoulder and met your stare with a quick withdrawal. He felt ashamed and cowardly, but he couldn’t even manage a hello to you when he walked into the bar with your crew mates. He knew it, knew it to his core – getting involved with the Straw Hats was going to be a pain in his ass but what he didn’t anticipate was something far worse.

A pain in his heart.

The barkeep slid a glass of ale in front of him, Law thanked the man and proceeded to down it in one gulp. His nerves were shot, body ached from all the fighting; now that things were settled in Wano, he could finally breathe but for how long? How long before you inhaled him so? He felt like he was drowning in this odd feeling, a foreign feeling that had him looking for you on the battleground. Every other thought had been about you – were you safe? Had you pushed yourself past your limit? The worst: were you even alive? He should have known, you were a damn Straw Hat, of course you’d end up fine.

If fine meant badly wounded and at the point of death but alive.

He had personally tended to your wounds and gave Chopper specific orders for your recovery. Days later, he saw you for the first time. Refreshed and smiling as you walked through the town with Roronoa Zoro. You looked well and he could never forget the relief that swelled in his chest, but he acted cowardly and ducked into a sweets shop. He watched from the window as you walked by with the swordsman, your laugh filled the muffled air, and he felt a cramp in his heart. It was sickening, he felt sick watching you walk away but at least you were alive and breathing.

If only that could be enough for him.

All he wanted was to get on his ship with his crew and leave Wano for good, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it even days after the final battle. Of course, Bepo and the others were having a good time but all he could do was wallow because what was the point? He had his crew and you had yours – and that was that. Wasn’t it?

“Tra-guy!”

Law cringed at the sound of the Straw Hat’s captain voice and attempted to get off the stool for a quick escape, but Luffy had an arm around him in seconds. He pulled him toward a large round table, where the rest of the crew sat, including you. Law grumbled as Luffy called for a toast, pushing a drink into the doctor’s chest. He took it reluctantly and avoided you as he listened to Luffy give a short, dumb little speech until everyone cheered and clinked glasses. It then, as everyone laughed around the table that Law found himself looking in your direction. He anticipated your gaze, but you were laughing at something Jinbei was saying and all he could do was stare. His heart pattered and all he wanted to do was pluck it out of his own body, throw it away in the sea. That way he wouldn’t have to feel it bursting in his body attempting to burn right through his chest.

“Law.”

He blinked a few times and realized you were standing in front of him – how long had he zoned out? He cleared his throat before commenting on your recovery. “You look well.”

“Because of you,” you smiled, hands behind your back. “When I woke up, Chopper explained what you had done for me. Thank you.”

“Of course,” he replied quietly, afraid to move a muscle but it seemed you were set on making him go into cardiac arrest because you drew slightly closer to him. He could feel his cheeks go warm as you asked if he planned on staying longer in Wano.

“We’re set to leave in a few days. I am sorry to leave this place,” you confessed, and he asked why. Grinning, you reached down for his hand, not caring that there was room full of people, specifically, your crew surrounding you two. Law held his breath; your hand was warm and gentle as it was that night…

“It’s such a beautiful place but this is the place I got to know you better, Trafalgar. I’m glad we got to spend some time together, I just wish…. we had more time, don’t you?”

Oh, God, this was it – he was going to die. He couldn’t contain himself any longer and he quickly, without meeting a single person’s look, gripped your hand and led you quickly out of the tavern. He maneuvered you through the tables and chairs, drunk people out into the cool night. Once outside, he pulled you off to the side, away from the festival lights and sounds. His hand around yours, he stumbled over his words. It was upsetting, unnatural for him to feel so clumsy and unprepared. - that wasn’t him, what a fool love made him.

Love.

“We’re from two different crews…”

“Thank you for stating the obvious.”

You teased and it relaxed him for some reason; that’s what you did to him. Soothed away all the anxiousness he had built up, gave him a sense of calmness – which was laughable considering the crew you were apart of. How he wishes he could steal you away to be his. “I won’t ask you to come with me,” he said quietly, thumb pressing into your skin. “I know you wouldn’t, and I wouldn’t want you to choose…”

“Because I would always choose my crew.”

Law smiled softly and looked down at your hand in his; his grip softened, and he laughed, mostly to himself. “A damn Straw Hat, of all people….”

“Believe me, I wasn’t looking for this either,” you laughed, giving way to a deep sigh. Law finally gave in, fully gave in, and tugged you to him. With ease, you melted against his body as his arms wrapped around your back and he held you close to his chest. A brief sadness danced around the two of you, as the sound of Brook’s violin carried the night. It sounded so lovely, and Law closed his eyes, holding you close – mesmerizing this moment for later, when the nights on his ship would be quiet and lonely. He’d have this to look back on but more importantly, he’d have this to look forward to.

Law pulled back to look at you, hands gracing the sides of your face; his thumb caressed your cheek, and he studied the look in your eyes before telling you it wasn’t over. “It doesn’t end like this. We’ll go our separate ways for now, but let’s find each other again. I can wait, can you?”

Say yes, please, say yes – he wouldn’t know what to do if you said no. Can he move on and continue his journey. Can you become a small pebble in his story? A cliff note, a passing thought? A fond memory he can look back on when he’s much older and trying not to regret the choices he has made in his life? Can he be that strong?

“You’re worth the wait.”

Stunned, heart stunned, as you smiled. He searched in your face for any sides of hesitation but all he saw was love and hope – things he thought he lost so long ago. Dozens of thoughts ran through his head, but everything went quiet when you leaned in for a kiss. He was pacified with love as he leaned in to capture your lips with his. How tender life felt as your hands moved up around his neck, his hand on the small of your back , fireworks painting the sky, and the land of Wano thriving, once again.

[fyodere]

actor!dazai au + hate fucking

I hope nobody catch us (but I kinda hope they catch us)

“she wanna go viral . . ?

keep fucking for hours

that pussy got power ”

— P POWER

₍^. .^₎⟆ ── content warnings / tags : nsfw content (mdni), actor!au, dazai is mean, nasty absolutely filthy smut, reader is a new name on acting scene, semi public sex, child star dazai, rivals with benefits, hate fucking, petnames, degradation, dazai is a sadic, unprotected sex, dirt talk, light dom/sub dynamic ♡

﹙ 🔪 ﹚── synopsis : Fighting for a spot on the entertainment industry was rough, but co-staring another film with Dazai was rougher.

Now you’re at the after party, all the paparazzi and interviewers are gone. You can finally relax now. At least, that was what you thought.

“Meet me in the bathroom.” Dazai whispered to you and quickly vanished, you were used to his superstar behavior, but it still annoys you.

You always fight on set and hate each other. What’s up with him now?

﹙ 🧥 ﹚── author's note : OKAY IM SO EXCITED FOR THIS i absolutely loved writing the whole rivals with benefits thing. it’s just too hot. i hope y’all enjoy it <3 my requests are always open so don’t be shy!

. . . ꒰ ꐦ › ﾛ ‹ ꒱

Fighting for a spot on the entertainment industry was rough, but co-staring another film with Osamu Dazai was rougher. For years, you had clawed your way through auditions, rejections, and fleeting moments of success, all in pursuit of that elusive breakthrough role. And just when you thought you had finally made it, fate threw you yet another curveball: co-starring in another film with the enigmatic and notoriously difficult Dazai Osamu.

The after-party buzzed with energy as celebrities mingled, champagne flowed, and laughter filled the air. For you, it was both a relief and a moment of triumph. Landing a role alongside the enigmatic Osamu was a career milestone, but it came with its own set of challenges.

As you sipped your drink, a familiar voice cut through the chatter. It was Dazai, his dark eyes glinting mischievously as he beckoned you with a subtle gesture. You rolled your eyes, accustomed to his dramatic antics. Despite their on-screen chemistry, behind the scenes, you both clashed like oil and water.

Reluctantly, you slipped away from the crowd, your curiosity piqued by Dazai's clandestine summons.

The tension between you and Dazai was palpable from day one of filming. Both of you were fiercely talented and fiercely competitive, each vying for the spotlight in every scene. The set became a battleground of egos, with sparks flying whenever your characters shared the screen.

Now, amidst the glitz and glamour of the after-party, with the paparazzi and interviewers finally gone, you hoped for a moment of respite. But as you leaned against the bar, nursing a cocktail and trying to unwind.

As the night wore on, you found yourself swept up in Dazai's whirlwind scheme, the lines between enemy and ally blurring in the face of ambition. And as you stood on the precipice of this daring venture, you realized that sometimes, the greatest battles were fought not on the silver screen, but behind the scenes, in the shadows where dreams and egos collided.

Dazai was a star since childhood. After starring in a movie at the age of 5, his career was an unstoppable ascent with no contenders. Every role, every appearance, no matter how small, made the project take off. Having Osamu in a project was synonymous with success.

At least, it was until he turned 15.

At 15, Dazai found himself on a thin line brought about by the consequences of fame. Surrounded by a world of drinks and nighttime dangers, Dazai felt embraced by the dark side of fame.

At 18, Osamu stepped away from his acting career. He needed a break from the spotlight and to clean himself from all the vices he had started in his adolescence. The media portrayed him as a comet in eruption disguised as a shooting star—if the media didn't want Dazai Osamu, then it wouldn't have him. Dazai distanced himself from screens and public scrutiny.

Now, at 22, Osamu was preparing for his comeback to the prestigious world of cinema, and when the cast was announced, people were stunned. Dazai's return after 4 years away from the stage. The return was so sudden that the media had no choice but to remind the public of Dazai's difficult phase.

His return was in a minor role in a drama film, the same film where you were one of the stars. You're a model represented by Fyodor Dostoevsky who landed this role by chance. It was a simple equation: good agents, beauty, charisma, and connections. There was no way your career could go wrong.

Despite the glitz and glamour of the entertainment industry, the atmosphere on set was anything but glamorous. From the moment filming began, it was clear that the animosity between you and Dazai was more than just a clash of egos—it was a full-blown feud.

Every interaction was laced with tension, each scene a battle for dominance. Behind the camera, snide remarks and passive-aggressive jabs were exchanged with alarming frequency, as you and Dazai vied for control of the spotlight.

But as the days turned into weeks, a begrudging respect began to simmer beneath the surface. Despite your mutual disdain, there was no denying the undeniable chemistry that crackled between you on screen. And as much as you hated to admit it, Dazai's talent was matched only by your own.

Yet, even as you grudgingly acknowledged each other's skill, the bitterness between you remained palpable. Every success felt like a personal affront, every compliment a thinly veiled insult. And as the pressure mounted, so too did the intensity of your rivalry.

But amidst the chaos and conflict, a glimmer of opportunity emerged. As filming progressed, it became increasingly clear that the success of the project hinged on your ability to set aside your differences and work together towards a common goal.

And so, begrudgingly, you and Dazai began to cooperate—not out of friendship or camaraderie, but out of sheer necessity. As the stakes grew higher and the deadline loomed closer, you found yourselves reluctantly setting aside your differences in pursuit of a greater good.

But, returning to the premiere of the film you were starring in: the after party was perfect. Only the most renowned people, the most coveted celebrities, all of it without any paparazzi or interviewer to disrupt the moment. That was the perfect opportunity to establish connections with the big names in the media. But, honestly, at that moment, all you wanted was to enjoy good drinks and soak in the energy of the place, having a well-deserved rest.

Navigating the treacherous waters of the entertainment industry had always been a challenge, but nothing could have prepared you for the tumultuous journey that came with co-starring in another film alongside the enigmatic Dazai. The tension between you two was palpable, a constant undercurrent of rivalry and animosity that colored every interaction.

Now, amidst the glittering lights and pulsating energy of the after party, with the paparazzi and interviewers finally gone, you hoped for a moment of respite. A chance to unwind and revel in the success of the film, to bask in the glow of your hard-earned achievements. But fate had other plans.

As you sipped your drink, a familiar voice sliced through the air, pulling you from your reverie. It was Dazai, his words laden with urgency and mystery. "Meet me in the bathroom," he murmured, before disappearing into the crowd. His abrupt departure left you both bewildered and irritated, a perfect encapsulation of your tumultuous relationship.

You and Dazai had always clashed on set, your fiery personalities and fierce ambition fueling a rivalry that bordered on hatred. Every scene was a battleground, every interaction a test of wills. And yet, beneath the surface animosity, there was a begrudging respect—a recognition of each other's talent and determination.

But as you made your way to the designated meeting spot, the backstage area cloaked in shadows and secrecy, you couldn't help but wonder what game Dazai was playing now. What could he possibly want from you?

As you rounded the corner, you found Dazai waiting for you, his expression inscrutable. The air crackled with tension, the weight of unspoken words hanging between you like a veil. And in that moment, you realized that whatever lay ahead, it would be anything but predictable.

You walked to the bathroom concerned. What the hell Dazai would want with you? You hate to admit it, but you’re kind of curious.

“Oh, well.” You said looking at the tall man with brown hair and mysterious eyes. “The demon prodigy want to talk to me. What an honor. Should I thank God for this?” You said with the voice dripping sarcasm as you roll your eyes.

The bathroom was empty and quiet. The place reeked of cigarette smell. Dazai was waiting there with a slight smile on his face. As soon as he saw you, he quickly put out his cigarette and threw the bud to the dumpster.

“Why so nervous?” His tone was taunting. He was leaning against the wall while talking to you.

“Why wouldn’t I?” You retort. “I’m trying to enjoy this after party but, damn, you really want to ruin everything.”

“Ruining it… or making it more interesting?” Dazai crossed his arms and smirked. His tone was still annoying. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. Like always.” Dazai muttered. You could see he was trying to make you angry.

“I wanted to talk with you in private. Since we’re having another film together. I want to propose something to you, since our reputation is on the line…” He said slowly.

“Our reputation?” You said laughter than you planned. “Oh, please. You’re the one who couldn’t resist to alcohol at 15. You’re the one who fucked up your image to the midia. Don’t put me into your twisted games.”

“Just listen before you go all ‘I hate you!’ On me, I get enough of that from the paparazzi.” Dazai said with a fake laugh.

Dazai stayed silent for a few seconds.

“You know how the rumor mill always says we are both in a relationship?” He sighed. “That’s not a problem to me. In fact, I believe it’s even better for us. I want you to pretend to be my girlfriend and feed the media with the idea that we are dating—“ You abruptly cut him off.

“Oh, don’t even come with this. I get enough bad ideas from my agent. I don’t need even more.”

Dazai's smirk widened at your reaction, his gaze unwavering. "I understand your hesitation, but think about it," he urged, his voice taking on a persuasive tone. "This could be mutually beneficial for both of us. Imagine the headlines, the buzz surrounding our 'relationship.' It would catapult us into the spotlight like never before."

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. "And what about the fallout when the truth inevitably comes out?" you countered, your tone dripping with skepticism. "We'd be crucified by the media, branded as frauds and manipulators. Is that really the kind of attention you want?"

Dazai's expression softened slightly, a hint of vulnerability flickering in his eyes. "I know it's risky," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "But think about what we could achieve together. With our combined talent and charisma, we could dominate the industry. This could be our ticket to the top."

You hesitated, torn between your reservations and the tantalizing prospect of fame and success. The allure of the spotlight was undeniable, but at what cost? Could you really trust Dazai to have your best interests at heart, or was this just another one of his manipulative schemes?

As you weighed your options, the air between you crackled with tension, the silence stretching taut with unspoken possibilities. And in that moment, you knew that whatever decision you made would irrevocably alter the course of your career—and perhaps your life.

For a moment, you considered leaving, quitting the project before it even began, but the thought of walking away from such a high-profile opportunity filled you with dread. Instead, you looked back at Dazai, your expression unreadable. "I guess I have no choice," you said ironically. "If you insist on being such a jerk, I'll play your game. But remember, you're the one who's going to end up regretting this. Just wait until I show my true colors, and the world sees what a fucking asshole you really are."

With those words, You turned your back on Dazai, ignoring his derisive snort as you walked out of the room. You could feel his eyes burning into your back, and for a moment, you wondered if you had made the right decision. But then you reminded herself that you didn't need to like him; you only needed to tolerate him. After all, there was no way you could afford to lose your job over their petty feud.

Osamu couldn't help but smirk as he watched you storm off, your back rigid with anger and defiance. He had never cared about your opinion, but he still found himself curious about your reaction to his antics. There was something about your fierce determination and independence that intrigued him, and he couldn't help but wonder what would happen if you ever decided to fight back against him.

Without thinking, Dazai grabbed you by the arm. “Hey, I’m still talking to you, belladonna.” He smirked. “Don’t think you could run away from me so easily.”

“Huh? Get lost!” You said firmly. “Don’t you dare touch me.” You gnashed your teeth while stepping closer to him, stepping on his foot.

Dazai’s grin widened as he felt your foot press down on his foot. It was clear that you were furious, and he reveled in the knowledge that he had managed to rile you up so quickly.

"Oh, come on, sweetheart. You know you love it when I tease you like this," he said, trying to sound casual. "It's part of my charm." His smile turned mischievous. "Besides, I think I deserve some credit for getting you to stay after all."

“Oh, don’t be so cheeky.” You said while rolling your eyes. He was still holding your arm, like he didn’t want to let you go.

"I am being cheeky, hmm?" Osamu retorted, his voice low and dangerous. "And you know it. Don't play innocent, sweetheart. We both know you secretly enjoy the attention I give you."

"I do not!" You spat, glaring at him. "You are such a jerk."

"Is that so?" Dazai asked, his tone still light and carefree "I am?" Osamu arched an eyebrow. "You really believe that, don't you?" He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. "You know you want me to keep doing it, right?"

"Shut up! I hate you, demon prodigy. You know how much I dislike you?” You said stepping on his foot even more heavily. Putting your face close to his.

Osamu laughed, the sound harsh and unpleasant. "So, you say you hate me?" He took a step closer, pressing his body against yours. "Well, I hate you too, sweetheart. But we can't seem to get rid of each other, can we?"

He moved his hand up to cup your face, turning your head so their gazes locked. "But that doesn't mean I can't make your life miserable, does it?" Your faces were to close, a single word could make your lips touch.

The air between you seemed to crackle with tension as Dazai looked into your eyes. His thumb brushed over your lower lip, tracing its outline. "If you don't want me to keep bothering you, then you should tell me to stop. If you do, I'll back off and leave you alone."

“Just shut up.” You said and finally pressed your lips against his.

Your tongues tangled together, Dazai's fingers digging into your hair, pulling your head back slightly. He was rough, demanding, and yet there was something undeniably compelling about the kiss.

As if he couldn't help himself, he deepened the kiss, taking control of the situation completely.

Osamu gripped you tightly, using all his strength to hold you in place. When he pulled away, he let out a loud laugh, a harsh bark of humorless mirth. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" Osamu broke away from the kiss, leaving you panting and gasping for air. His breath was hot against your skin, his eyes dark and hungry.

Osamu smirked, the smug expression making your blood boil. “I think you're enjoying it,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “You know what? I'm going to keep doing it until you beg me to stop.”

He grabbed your hands and pulled you above your head, pinning you against the wall. “Now, let's see how long you can last before you give in to my charms, hmm?”

Dazai leaned in again, pressing his body against yours once more. This time, he didn't use his tongue; instead, he bit down hard on your bottom lip.

“Fuck…” You said between heavy breaths.

“Mmm, that's my girl.” Dazai grinned, showing off his teeth. “Keep screaming out your protests, sweetheart. I love it when you fight me like this. Makes it all the more fun.”

With that, he licked at your lower lip, sucking it into his mouth. Then, he released it, only to bite down harder. The pain was intense, almost unbearable, but it also had a strange sort of pleasure attached to it.

Osamu's hand moved to your breast, cupping it through your dress. He squeezed it gently, then twisted it, causing her nipple to pierce through the fabric. The sensation was both excruciating and exquisite.

“A-Ah! Fuck!” You yelled, tears beginning to form in your eyes.

Osamu laughed softly, his smile growing wider. “You're so cute when you get mad,” he said, still holding onto your breast. “But remember, you asked for this, sweetheart. You wanted to play with the big boys, right?”

He released your breast, letting go of it. Instead, he began to run his fingers up and down your spine, making sure to tease you wherever possible. As he did so, he gave you breasts a rough tug, forcing your chest to arch upwards.

“Now, tell me, do you want me to continue or should I stop?” he asked, his tone casual and nonchalant. Osamu knew that he could push you to the breaking point, but he also knew that you would never say no to him.

You were breathless, your heart racing. Your cheeks were flushed, and you couldn't help but feel hot and bothered by his actions. It was clear that he enjoyed tormenting you, and you found yourself wondering if you should just let him have his way with you.

You hesitated for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to answer his question. Finally, you spoke, your voice barely audible over your panting. “... Fuck. Just keep going.”

Osamu nodded, his grin widening even further. “As you wish, my dear,” he said, giving you another hard pinch between your legs. This time, however, he made sure to rub against your thigh, pressing it against your sensitive flesh.

The sensation was incredibly intense, and it left you feeling exposed and vulnerable. But you didn't seem to mind; instead, you moaned softly, your body reacting to the stimulation.

Dazai's hands roamed across your back, tracing every curve and line. His fingers brushed against your skin, leaving trails of heat and desire in their wake. He grabbed hold of your ass, squeezing it tightly, before giving it a sharp smack.

“I'm going to fuck you, dear.” he whispered, his voice low and seductive. “I'm going to make you mine, and I'll never let you go.”

He leaned in close, his lips brushing against hers.

The sensation of his finger pressing against your entrance made you shudder, your skin feeling sensitive and exposed. It was then that you realized just how vulnerable you was in this situation, and it scared you. But for some reason, it was addictive.

Still, you didn't back away from him, even though you knew he had the power to hurt you. Instead, you just looked at him, you eyes wide and pleading.

“Please, Osamu. Please, keep going.”

Osamu chuckled, his amusement evident in the twinkle of his eyes. He leaned back slightly, keeping his finger pressed firmly against your entrance as he glanced up at you.

“You're adorable when you beg, sweetheart. So cute and pathetic. But you know what? You asked for this, so you get exactly what you deserve.”

Without warning, he pulled his finger out of you, leaving you aching and needy.

Osamu chuckled, his smile wicked and predatory. He continued to tease you, gently rubbing your clit and pushing his finger deeper into you tight hole.

“You're such a good girl, aren't you?” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “So obedient and submissive, like a dog. Always ready to do whatever your master tells you to do. But I bet you haven't ever asked what your master wants, right? I mean, it's only fair to ask before you start serving him, isn't it?”

The moment he pulled out, you whimpered, your body desperate for more. You wanted to cry out, to beg him to continue, but you knew it would only encourage him further. So instead, you just watched him, waiting for his next move.

As he sat up, you noticed something odd about his expression—it was almost as if he was enjoying himself. And yet, there was something cruel about the way he was treating you, something that made you want to run away from him.

But you couldn't leave. Not when he had you trapped in this bathroom.

“Dazai…” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “What do you want from me?”

Osamu laughed again, a harsh sound that echoed through the small space. His gaze never left hers as he spoke.

“I'm doing this because I hate you,” he said simply. “I think you're a terrible actress, and I can't stand the sight of you. Plus, it's fun to see you squirm and beg for mercy.

He reached over and grabbed your arm, pulling you close enough that your bodies were practically touching. He let go of you, however, and stood up, taking a few steps backward.

“Now, come here, belladonna. I want to fuck you until you beg for my cum.”

You sit down on the cold sink of bathroom and spread your legs, waiting for him.

Osamu smirked at your submission, a dark satisfaction curling deep within him. He walked towards you, his every step heavy with purpose and determination. When he finally reached you, he took hold of your hips and began to push your legs apart, making sure you were fully exposed and vulnerable.

He leaned in close, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered in your ear. “You know how much I hate you, right? Well, I hate you even more when you look like this, all pretty and helpless. It makes me feel powerful.”

With that, he released your hips and took hold of your thighs, lifting them off the ground and exposing your cunt completely.

As soon as he lifted your legs, you could feel his hardness pressing against your sensitive flesh. You shivered, feeling the chill of the air on your most intimate parts. Your heart raced, fear coursing through your veins. But still, you didn't try to stop him or fight back. Instead, you waited, your eyes wide and filled with fear and anticipation.

Osamu smirked once more before pushing into your tight, wet entrance. The sensation was intense, almost painful, but he continued to press forward, slowly filling you with his thick member. He gently rocked his hips, causing his cock to rub against your walls in a way that felt both rough and pleasurable.

As he did so, he couldn't help but grind out words against your neck. “Fuck, you're so tight. You'll be begging for my cum soon enough.”

The pressure inside you grew unbearable, but you tried not to let it show. Instead, you bit your lip and tried to focus on something else, anything else. All you could think about was how much you hated him, how much you wanted to make him suffer. But the thought of doing so only made you feel guilty and ashamed.

Osamu moaned softly, his voice low and rumbling against your neck. His hands clenched tightly onto your thighs, keeping your legs raised and exposed as he continued to pound into your with fierce intensity. He was determined to get what he wanted, and he would do whatever it took to make you suffer.

The sound of his moans echoed throughout the bathroom, the only thing breaking the silence besides their heavy breathing. Despite the fact that he was clearly enjoying himself, there was no love or affection in his actions; rather, it was all fueled by anger and hatred.

The tension in the room was palpable, and you found yourself unable to move or speak. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, and every time he moved, it caused your insides to writhe and protest. The thought of having sex with someone you hated so much was sickening, but at this point, you had no choice but to endure it.

You tried to bite down on your own lip, hoping to muffle some of the sounds of discomfort that were escaping your mouth. But it was no use; your moans were too loud and too frequent for you to keep quiet. And even though you knew that he would only use it against you later, you couldn't help but give in to the pleasure, however small it may be.

Osamu groaned out loud, his voice rough and strained as he felt his orgasm approaching. It was almost painful, the way he had to force himself to continue moving. But he wouldn't stop until he had finished, and when he finally did, he collapsed on top of you, his weight crushing you against the bathroom sink.

He pulled out of her with a grunt, his eyes still closed as he tried to catch his breath. Then, without warning, he reached up and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. When you opened your mouth to say something, he cut her off with a harsh glare.

"You think you can get away with your little tricks?" he growled, his tone dark and threatening. "Well, guess again."

He felt his climax approaching, so he released all inside of you, and as soon as you left, Dazai let out a sigh, his face twisting into a scowl. "Fucking hell," he muttered under his breath. "Why does she have to be so difficult? It's like pulling teeth to get anything out of her. This is going to be a nightmare." He plopped down on the couch, rubbing his temples in frustration. "I swear, sometimes I wish I could just strangle her and be done with it."

[notaplaceofhonour]

I was raised in the People of Destiny cult (later renamed, and more well-known as, Sovereign Grace Ministries, now Sovereign Grace Churches).

The valorization of martyrdom and The End Times was so ubiquitous it was ambient noise. We stood in the church lobby theorizing about who the antichrist would be, we argued about whether Jesus would rapture us all before, after, or during the Tribulation Period where Satan would be given free reign over the earth. There was a strong Christian Zionist fixation on Israel as the final battleground and capital of the coming Messianic Age. But the one thing we were all certain of was is that we were in the End Times, that we were not of this world and couldn’t get too attached to our lives here.

We were raised to believe our sin nature made us undeserving of life, that we deserved death and eternal conscious torture.

My parents read us the Jesus Freaks books (a series by Christian Rap group DC Talk about martyrs). I spent “devotional time” reading Fox’s Book of Martyrs. We had guest speakers from Voice of the Martyrs, their pamphlets were often stocked in our church’s information center. We grew up with our dad listening to right wing talk radio and making us listen to songs about how the Godless atheists were outlawing Christianity in America, that we could all become martyrs soon.

The group’s theology was damaging & traumatic in a lot of other ways that contributed to the suicidality I have continued to struggle with for the rest of my life. For a long time I did not believe I would live past 20. There are times when the idea of giving my death meaning by using public suicide to make a political statement has appealed to me.

So now, seeing so many social media posts glorifying the suicide of a US Airman this week, I have been furious. Reading his social media posts, I recognize so much about the way I was raised in his all-or-nothing, black-or-white mindset, the valorization of death-seeking & martyrdom, and the apocalyptic fire-and-brimstone imagery of self-immolation. The moment I saw people I followed celebrating his self-immolation, I said to myself “this feels like a cult”

So when I learned he was raised in a cult too, nothing could have made more sense to me. His political orientation may have changed, but his mindset did not—it was no less extreme or cult-like.

I’ve talked about so many of the reasons this response from the broader left scares me, including how it’s laundering that airman’s antisemitic beliefs, but I cannot think of anything that would hit me in a more personal place than this specific response to this specific situation has.

When I see the images, I think: that could have been me. That scares me, and what scares me more is that so many prominent people are overwhelmingly sending the message to people like me that there is nothing else we can do that would have a more meaningful impact than killing ourselves for the cause.

I do not believe that. I will not even entertain it. And having to see his death over and over and over again, to argue against people who are treating this like an intellectual/moral exercise or a valid debate we all have to consider has been immensely triggering and fills me with a rage I rarely feel. It’s unconscionable that we are even putting self-harm on the table, and that pushing back against that is somehow controversial.

There is hope. Our lives do have meaning. There are far more effective means of fighting injustice. And the world is a better place for having you in it. Don’t fall into believing this is a way to give life purpose.

[herrscherofinsanity]

Unsaid Things

Summary: What begins as a seemingly harmless disagreement erupts into a heated argument, leaving the echoes of hurtful words and unspoken frustrations lingering in the air.

Angst with a happy ending

Yu Jimin (Karina) x reader

Word count: 1.8k

____________________

The evening began like any other, the air tinged with the familiar warmth of shared laughter and whispered confessions. Yet, a seemingly innocent comment sparked the flames of disagreement—a spark that would soon grow into an uncontrollable blaze.

It started with a difference of opinion, a harmless clash that swiftly escalated into a battle neither of you anticipated. The room, once filled with the gentle hum of love, became a battleground for unspoken frustrations and hurtful words.

"You never listen, y/n!" Jimin's frustration spilled into the room, her voice edged with an anger that cut through the air.

Feeling the sting of accusation, you retorted with equal fervor. "Maybe if you weren't so stubborn, we could have a real conversation!"

The exchange of words, initially measured, began to escalate. The disagreement, no longer confined to the topic at hand, morphed into a barrage of hurtful comments, each word a dagger tearing at the fragile fabric of your relationship.

The laughter that once echoed off the walls now lay buried beneath the weight of resentment. Voices, once tender in the exchange of affection, grew louder, drowning in the rising tide of frustration.

Jimin's eyes, once a wellspring of love, were now stormy with emotions. "You're impossible, y/n! I can't do this anymore!"

You felt your whole world stopping, the ground beneath you began to crumble, you immediately shot back, "Maybe I'm better off without someone who can't appreciate what they have!"

The words hung in the air, a testament to the depth of your pain. The silence that followed was deafening, a vacuum filled with regret and the lingering scent of an emotional battlefield. Jimin’s eyes began to well up with tears, her ragged breathing catching you off guard.

“If that’s what you want, fine. I don’t want to keep putting up with you, enough is enough”.

_____________________

Days passed, the apartment that once housed your love now felt empty, haunted by the ghosts of unspoken regrets. Each passing moment etched the harshness of your words into your hearts, the weight of the argument heavy on your shoulders.

Jimin, who once found solace in your embrace, now sought refuge in the solitude of her thoughts. You, nursing wounds both seen and unseen, distanced yourself in an attempt to shield your heart from further pain.

In the quiet of your individual spaces, the realization of what had transpired began to settle. The words you had hurled in the heat of the moment now echoed as a painful reminder of the fragility of your love. Was this it? Three years building something you had thought would last a lifetime, up and gone just like that.

As the initial storm of anger subsided, a new storm brewed—a storm of regret, longing, and an overwhelming need to bridge the emotional chasm that had formed between the two of you. Your mind was plagued with thoughts of Jimin, was she as hurt as you were? Did she miss you as much as you missed her?

Jimin always claimed you were her world. How was she doing now that “her world” hadn’t spoken to her in weeks? Was she moving on or was she struggling as much as you were?

Truth is, you were feeling lost without your girlfriend; but how was she doing? You couldn’t help but feel worried. Had she been eating well? Was she getting enough sleep? Was she properly taking care of herself? You were dying to at least send her a quick text, but your pride stood in the way. Surely if Jimin wanted to talk to you she would’ve done so by now, why should you be the one to apologize when she was the one who started the argument?

And with that in mind, weeks went by.

____________________

Jimin's best friend, Minjeong, watched from the sidelines, torn between loyalty to Jimin and the ache of seeing you struggle. She knew the depth of your connection and understood that the silence that now filled the apartment echoed a shared pain.

Unable to bear witness to your suffering any longer, Minjeong decided to intervene. She knew that pride, no matter how well-intentioned, could be the greatest obstacle to love. And so, armed with a determination to mend what seemed irreparable, Minjeong set in motion a plan to bring you and Jimin back from the brink of a love lost to silence.

Days passed in the heavy silence that now permeated Jimin's apartment. Unable to bear the weight of the unresolved tension, you found yourself agreeing to meet Minjeong for coffee, hoping for a semblance of solace in the midst of the emotional turmoil.

The cafe was a refuge of soft chatter and the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee. You sat across from Minjeong; the air thick with the unspoken burden that had settled between you.

Minjeong, with a determined yet gentle expression, broke the silence. "y/n, I can't stand seeing both of you like this. The apartment feels like it's suffocating under the weight of whatever it is that you two left behind."

You sighed, a mixture of weariness and longing in your eyes. "I don't know what to do, Minjeong. It's like we've hit a wall, and I can't see a way through it."

Minjeong nodded, empathizing with the complexity of the situation. "Jimin cares about you more than anything. You two have been through so much together. I hate seeing that history overshadowed by a single disagreement."

"I hate it too," you admitted, the vulnerability of the situation laid bare. "But every time I think about reaching out, I can't shake the feeling that it might make things worse."

Minjeong leaned in, her gaze sincere. "Sometimes, taking the first step is the hardest, but it's also the most courageous. I know Jimin. She's hurting, probably more than she's letting on. But she loves you, y/n, and I believe you can work through this if you're willing to try."

You stared into the depths of the coffee cup sitting in front of you, contemplating Minjeong's words. The realization of the potential loss weighed heavily in your heart. "I don't want to lose her, Minjeong. But every time I think about picking up the phone, my pride gets in the way."

Minjeong's eyes softened, understanding the intricacies of pride and love. "It's okay to be scared. It's okay to be unsure. But consider what you might gain by trying. Regret is a heavier burden than the fear of vulnerability."

Silence hung in the air, the weight of Minjeong's words settling between you. Torn between fear and longing, you felt a stirring of resolve.

"I miss her," you confessed, your voice tinged with a mix of sadness and longing.

Minjeong smiled, offering your hand a supportive squeeze. "Then, go to her. Break the silence. Sometimes, all it takes is one person to start the journey back to each other."

As you left the cafe, Minjeong watched, hoping that the seeds of reconciliation had been planted.

____________________

With Minjeong's words lingering in your mind, you found yourself standing outside Jimin's apartment, hesitating before pressing the doorbell. The seconds that followed felt like an eternity until the door opened, revealing Jimin, her eyes reflecting the same pain you had been carrying.

"I miss you," Jimin whispered, her voice barely audible.

You nodded, tears glistening in your eyes. "I miss us."

The apartment was bathed in the soft glow of city lights as you two navigated the delicate terrain of healing. The air felt charged with the weight of unspoken apologies and a shared desperation to mend what seemed irreparably broken.

Jimin, her usually confident demeanor stripped away, sat on the edge of the couch, eyes fixed on the floor. You stood a few steps away, feeling the gravity of the moment—the make-or-break point of your relationship.

"I never meant for it to get this far," Jimin admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I let my pride cloud everything, and I pushed you away."

You nodded, a mix of sadness and understanding in your eyes. "I should have reached out too. I let the hurt fester instead of trying to fix this."

The silence lingered, a tangible reminder of the unspoken words that had driven you apart. In that moment, your eyes met, and for the first time in days, the wall of pride crumbled. You felt your heart clench at the sight of Jimin, a shadow of her usual self, but still able to make you feel so much with a mere look. You can’t lose her, not now, not ever.

"I'm scared," Jimin confessed, her gaze now locked with yours. "Scared that I've pushed you too far."

You took a tentative step forward, closing the physical and emotional gap between you and your girlfriend. "I'm scared too, Jimin. Scared that we might lose what we have."

As the honesty hung in the air, you found yourselves standing on the precipice of a choice—to let fear dictate the future or to confront it head-on. Slowly, you extended a hand, a silent invitation for Jimin to bridge the distance between you.

Jimin looked at the offered hand, hesitation and hope flickering in her eyes. With a deep breath, she reached out, your fingers intertwining—a simple gesture laden with the weight of reconciliation.

Jimin sighed at the contact, a small smile playing at her lips as she stared at your intertwined hands. God, she missed you so much.

"I love you," you whispered, the words a balm to the wounds that had festered for too long.

Jimin nodded, her eyes reflecting a mix of relief and gratitude. "I love you too, more than anything."

The emotional dam finally broke, and you embraced, a tight hug that conveyed more than words ever could. Tears, both of sorrow and relief, were shed, and in that shared vulnerability, you found the strength to rebuild what you thought had been lost.

As you sat together on the couch, hand in hand, you talked. About the hurt, the insecurities, and the shared dreams that had momentarily been forgotten. Listening with open hearts, forging a promise to communicate, to understand, and to never let pride overshadow your love again.

In the end, your home, once shrouded in silence, echoed with laughter and the gentle whispers of a love that had weathered the storm. You and Jimin emerged from the depths of conflict not unscathed, but stronger—armed with the wisdom that vulnerability is not a weakness but a powerful catalyst for healing and growth.

As the city outside continued its rhythmic hum, you rediscovered the melody of your shared love, each note a testament to the resilience of their bond. In the quiet of the night, you found solace in the understanding that love, when nurtured with honesty and forgiveness, could withstand even the most tumultuous storms.

____________________

A/N: Hi, happy new year to all of you! I spent the entirety of the winter break sick, so I didn't get as much done as I would've liked, but I still have a lot a want to share here with you guys. I'll be uploading stuff during the weekend, hopefully I don't forget to do so.

Anyway, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy this! I went for a happy ending because I don't like hurting myself so yeah.

[prettyforwoso]

Lay Back Baby

Lucy Bonze x Ona Batlle smut

Summary: Ona is staying home from training with the cold, yearning for Lucy's touch, she pushes the the whole day without, the second Lucy gets home, she knows what she needs.

a/n: Based on the large amounts of requests for this one !! hope you enjoy :) requests open

Ona awoke with a heavy sense of lethargy, her body feeling like a battleground between fatigue and discomfort. The room around her was dimly lit, the soft glow of daylight filtering through the curtains casting a muted atmosphere. As she blinked away the remnants of sleep, the realization of her sickness settled in, a weight on her chest that matched the heaviness in her head.

The air in the room felt stale, and Ona's groggy mind struggled to focus. Her and Lucys room, once a haven of comfort, now seemed foreign, as if the familiar surroundings had transformed into an unfamiliar landscape in the course of her nap. She gingerly sat up, her limbs protesting with every movement, and the blankets clung to her like an extra layer of fatigue.

Ona's nose was stuffy, her throat scratchy, and a persistent ache echoed through her body. She reached for the tissue box on her bedside table, a comforting ally in the battle against her symptoms. Each tissue she pulled out seemed to absorb a small part of her misery as she blew her nose, the soft sound a pitiful reminder of her unwell state.

Her gaze drifted to the window, where the outside world continued its oblivious hustle. The play of sunlight on the curtains formed patterns that danced in a rhythm detached from her own discomfort. Ona sighed, the sound a mixture of resignation and frustration, as she contemplated the tasks and responsibilities that awaited her beyond the confines of the couch.

She remembered how Lucy always took care of her when she was unwell – making tea, giving forehead touches, and saying comforting things. Ona scrolled through pictures of them together, smiling and happy. She sent Lucy a text, telling her how much she needed her right now.

Ona: missing you baby…

sent

Wrapped up in her blankets, she waited for Lucy's reply, hoping for some comfort. When Lucy's message came, it was like a virtual hug. Lucy promised to be home soon, and Ona felt a bit better just thinking about it. With the idea of Lucy's return from training in mind, Ona relaxed, knowing that love had the power to make her feel better even when she was at her sickest.

She peeled her body off the couch and headed for their bedroom, hoping to find a change of clothing, clinging to the idea that it might make a feel better to freshen up. She pulled out some sweat shorts and one of Lucys jerseys, desperate for anything from her, even just her smell.

Her legs led her to the kitchen, where she found herself making some toast, too exhausted for any sort of creativity if it included any sort of hard work.

She’s been sitting around all day, occasionally moving location to follow the days sunlight, but no amount of light would satisfy her intense craving for the touch of Lucy. Her mind wandered, the idea of Lucy laying her down and having her cum over and over, all she needed was for Lucy to be inside of her, and any kind of way, Ona was not feeling picky.

Her sudden burst of energy came when she heard Lucys keys in the front door. Her body was lifted from the bed out of excitement, her feet skidding on the floor as she ran to the door, jumping into the arms of her girl.

Lucy didn’t even have time put her stuff down, having to drop it to support Onas tiny frame, wrapped around her waist.

“Hey baby” Lucy says, gently placing her down.

“Lucy, I have missed you so much today” Ona says looking up at her, with the strong grip on the centre of Lucys shirt, scared by the idea of letting go.

Lucy leans down and presses a kiss on Onas soft lips, not worrying about getting sick, if anything, it would give them time off together.

Ona raised herself onto the tips of her toes, desperate to get the most of out Lucys mouth. She wraps an arm around her neck, pulling her closer.

“Oh, you really have missed me haven’t you little thing” Lucy says, breaking the contention.

Ona simply bites her lip in response.

“No baby, you are sick and need rest” Lucy tells Ona with the stern tone. Ona is in her lap, getting more and more needy by the second.

The pair have been on the couch simply making out for a while now, Ona in Lucys lap, as per usual, desperately grinding small on the tiny seem of Lucys pants that are rubbing on her needy clit.

“Lucy please” Ona begins the whining. “You can’t leave me alone all day, them come home and refuse to fuck me” she finishes with a mumble.

“I can when you are sick darling girl” Lucy delicately fights back.

“agh Lucy please, I’m all wet, and you’re the person I want to share that with” Ona begging is something that could almost get Lucy on her knees for the small girl.

Lucys body has a physical reaction to Onas words. A long deep breathe escapes her mouth and her eyes soften. “Your all, wet baby?” she says, trying not to give in to her racing mind when she quotes Onas words. “I don’t want to hurt you sweet girl”

Ona is quick to reply “You’re not going to hurt me Lucy” she says franticly trying to get the words off her tongue. “Just please open my legs and fuck me” She shoots Lazers into Lucys eyes “Please Lucy”

“Stay here for a second” Lucy says, lifting Onas frame off her and on to the couch, leaving the room and leaving Ona alone. She isn’t sure is her begging had worked out in her favour or not, but alas, she did as she was told and stayed on the couch.

Lucy is soon to return to her good girl. A strap in one hand, and a small dildo in the other. Ona has never been the type to be able to take anything big, and Lucy has never wanted to push her too hard.

Ona makes space for her on the couch and Lucy lays her body down, motioning for Ona to straddle her waist once more. Ona places her body weight down and leans into the lips of Lucy. Lucys hand wraps around the back of her neck not allowing her to leave the kiss until she was finished.

Lucy pulls Ona by the back of the neck away from the kiss “Baby my face” she begins “Come onto it okay”.

Ona doesn’t have to answer, she quickly pulls herself Lucy and starts to undress. “keep the shirt on pretty girl” Lucy instructs, referring to the ‘Bronze’ jersey that Ona wore loose on her shoulders.

Ona doesn’t need to be asked twice. She knows the way Lucy just gets weak in the knees at the sight of Ona in her jerseys. Something the possession it holds. Her name, on Onas back

Lucy manhandles Onas body to the way she wants her, before pulling her onto her face. Ona breath hitches at the sudden friction of Lucys nose on her clit. Onas bare bottom half finds itself begining to grind back and forth on the face of her girlfriend. With Lucys slick tongue exploring its way around Onas’s hole, Lucy finds that its just not quite enough for her. Lucys arms wrap around Onas spread thighs, digging her nails into her ass and pulling her down, forcing her to put all her body weight onto her tongue.

It usually takes a lot of reassurance to get Ona to fully place herself onto Lucys mouth, always being hesitant that she will hurt her somehow, but Lucy is always quick to deny that idea. Sometimes even having to go as far as holding her down onto her face with all her strength. Lucy fucking loves it. Onas’s thighs around her head, her slick dripping down her chin.

Onas getting good use out of Lucys noes, feeling the texture of her skin on her most intimate parts. Lucys tongue is venturing in and out, occasional pressing flat on her hole, catching all her leaking goodness, swallowing it with pure bliss.

The mix of Lucys mouth and her strong eye contract from beneath her, has Ona beginning to spiral. She knows she doesn’t need to communicate this with Lucy. Having been clearly aware due to the speed in which her actions were getting too. Lucys grip on Ona was pulling her even further with each second that pasted. Lucy could barely breath underneath her, something that hardly worried her, knowing how fast she could get to Onas high.

“Agh, yes Lucy” Onas frantic pleading has Lucy smiling against her. “Yes Lucy” her pitch gets higher at the end of each statement. Her eyes roll to the back of her head, telling out a smooth hum of a moan as she lets herself go into Lucys mouth, shaking her legs and squeezing them around her head.

Ona steals a breath from the air, moving herself off Lucys face and sitting on her clothed stomach. Lucy being fully clothed with Ona bare wasn’t a completely uncommon practice in the household.

“Ona darling help me put this on”. Lucy breaks the silence, referring the strap in her hands, passing it to Ona. She moves down Lucys body and kneels between her legs. She picks it from Lucys hands, fiddling with the harness and getting it around Lucys hips, covered by her boxers.

“You think you can take this one baby girl?” Lucy double checks, the strap is small, but so is Ona, and the last thing Lucy wanted was to push her when she was sick.

“Yes, ill be good” Ona struggles to get full words out, due to the pure bliss she feels, just looking at the toy in front of her.

Lucy takes the answer, tightening the harness to her waist before pushing Ona further down. “I was you back to face me while you ride my cock” Lucy says, in a gently demanding tone.

Onas bottom lip is swollen from all the bitting, Lucys voice and demanding tone, not helping the situation. Ona grabs a hold of Lucys thighs for balance, turning herself around and putting her legs over Lucys waist. Onas’s ass sits on Lucys stomach, Lucys hands find it almost immediately. She lifts herself up with the help of Lucys grip and hovers over the strap, nervous about letting herself fall.

Ona suddenly feels tired, worried she might do this the wrong way. She stays hovering for more than usual and Lucy begins to wonder the expression on her girlfriend’s face.

“Can you take it sweat girl?” Lucy asks again, in an almost teasing tone this time.

Ona doesn’t reply, beginning to squirm in her position.

“Darling, do you need help?” Lucy asks, caressing the skin of Onas soft ass.

“yeah”

“Lay back for me” Lucy pulls her back. “Come on, nice and comfy”.

Ona relaxes into the precents of Lucy, legs spread wide and open. Lucys hand sneaks under her and onto the toy, lining it up with Onas’s cunt.

“Look at me” Lucy says, turning Onas’s face to look her in the eye as she thrusts herself in, so slowly, so soft.

Ona’s gentle moan has her snuggling into Lucys grip. Lucys hands now holding Ona’s legs open as she slowly thrusts in and out, causing Ona to whine in her hold.

“Shh baby girl. I know you can take it” Lucy places kisses all over Onas red face. Her pace starting to speed up, much to the overwhelming pleasure of Ona.

“yes, yes lucy” Onas words come out more breathy and pathetic than intended.

Lucy legs go of one thigh to hold Onas’s face, looking down into her eyes, Ona looks like she’s been to a whole new level of pleasure. Eyes watering and checks red.

“Are you going to cum for me like this?” Lucy asks, already knowing the answer.

Ona can’t get words out, simply humming in reply as she begins to shake in Lucys grip. Lucy responses by going deeper, getting a yelp from Ona, who now finds refuge in the neck of her girlfriend.

“Let go baby” It’s all Ona need to hear before she is riding an absolute high, legs shaking and hips rocking, she floats to the point of pure stimulation, no longer feeling anything around her but the warm embrace of Lucy, who, without Onas’s knowledge had completely pulled out of her.

“Good girl, shhh baby, you’re okay” Lucy says, helping Ona gain control of her breathing and come back to the room, her mind elsewhere.

“sh sh sh, deep breaths” Ona’s breathing returns and she is turned over, chest to chest with Lucy who takes her hair in her hand, stocking her scalp with nothing but pure love.

“My good baby”

[lila-lou]

✨ His only exception - Pt. 16/? ✨

Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language, Violence, soft Ben

Word Count: 5612

A/N: This is part 16 of “His only exeption”.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

Homelander's gaze narrowed, a sardonic smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Oh, have I now?", he retorted, his voice oozing with disdain. "And what, pray tell, do you think you can do?".

Soldier Boy's expression darkened, a cold fury burning in his eyes as he took a step closer to Homelander. "I'm going to make you regret every fucking thing you've done".

A tense silence fell between them, the air crackling with the anticipation of violence as they stood locked in a deadly standoff. Each knew that the other was a formidable opponent, and neither was willing to back down without a fight.

With a surge of aggression, Soldier Boy lunged forward, his fists clenched tightly as he prepared to unleash his fury upon Homelander. But Homelander was ready, his eyes gleaming with malicious intent as he braced himself for the coming onslaught.

The clash between them was inevitable, a collision of power and rage that would shake the very foundations of the room. And as the first blow was struck, the echoes of their battle reverberated through the darkness, marking the beginning of a confrontation that would determine the fate of them both.

The clash between Soldier Boy and Homelander erupted with a ferocity that seemed to shake the very walls. Soldier Boy moved with the precision and grace of a trained warrior, his movements fluid and calculated as he launched a barrage of punches and kicks at Homelander.

Homelander, however, was no stranger to combat. With superhuman speed and strength, he deftly dodged Soldier Boy's attacks, his movements almost graceful in their efficiency. Each blow he delivered carried the full force of his immense power.

Undeterred, Soldier Boy pressed forward, his determination unwavering as he launched a relentless assault on Homelander. Blow after blow rained down upon his opponent, each strike fueled by a burning desire for revenge.

As the fight raged on, it became increasingly clear that neither combatant was willing to yield. They fought with a primal ferocity, their movements fueled by a potent mix of anger and determination.

With a thunderous crash, Soldier Boy sent Homelander hurtling through the wall and into the dimly lit hallway beyond. The force of the impact echoed through the corridor, sending debris flying in all directions as the two superpowered beings collided with bone-jarring force.

As the dust settled, Butcher and the rest of the team rushed forward, their expressions set in grim determination as they prepared to join the fray. With weapons drawn and muscles tensed, they charged towards the scene of the battle, ready to confront their formidable adversary head-on.

But Homelander was quick to recover, his eyes flashing with fury as he rose to his feet, his gaze fixated on his newfound adversaries. With a snarl of rage, he launched himself at the approaching team, his fists lashing out with lethal precision.

Butcher and the others met his onslaught head-on, their weapons clashing against Homelander's superhuman strength in a frenzied melee of steel and flesh. Blow after blow was exchanged as they fought with all their might, each member of the team determined to bring down Homelander.

The hallway became a battleground, the air thick with the sound of grunts and curses. But despite their best efforts, Homelander seemed unstoppable, his power seemingly limitless as he fought with a ferocity born of desperation.

But just when it seemed as though all hope was lost, a glimmer of light appeared on the horizon. With a roar of defiance, Soldier Boy re-entered the fray.

As Soldier Boy’s chest began to glow, the team’s eyes widened in horror, knowing the destructive power that lay dormant within him. With a sense of urgency, they turned and fled, their footsteps echoing through the deserted corridors as they raced to escape the impending explosion.

With a deafening roar, Soldier Boy’s chest erupted in a blinding flash of light, the force of the explosion sending shockwaves rippling through the building. Walls crumbled as the immense power unleashed by Soldier Boy tore through the structure with unstoppable force.

Homelander, caught off guard by the sudden blast, was hurled from the building with the force of a cannonball, his body tumbling through the air before crashing to the ground below.

As the chaos ensued, the rest of the team stormed towards the scene to apprehend Homelander, their determination driving them forward amidst the debris and destruction. Meanwhile, Soldier Boy's attention was drawn to a different target as he turned and sprinted towards your unconscious form, his heart pounding with urgency.

Reaching your side, Soldier Boy skidded to a halt, his eyes wide with concern as he took in the sight of your battered and bloodied body. Without hesitation, he knelt beside you, his hands trembling as he checked for signs of life.

Finding a faint pulse, Soldier Boy's relief was palpable, but his worry only deepened as he surveyed the extent of your injuries. Gently cradling your limp form in his arms, he felt a surge of protectiveness wash over him.

With determination in his eyes, Soldier Boy rose to his feet, your unconscious body held securely against his chest. Ignoring the chaos around him, he set off towards the nearest exit, his mind focused on your health.

As you began to stir in Ben's arms, your eyelids fluttered open, , just a bit, revealing pale, exhausted features and a faint heartbeat. Feeling his comforting embrace, you managed a weak smile, your voice barely a whisper as you teased him.

"You always have to play the hero, don't you?", you murmured, your words laced with affection despite the pain coursing through your body. Even in your weakened state, you couldn't resist poking fun at his penchant for rushing into danger to save the day.

As the team scoured the chaotic scene in search of any sign of Homelander, Ben and you found yourselves alone amidst the rubble and destruction.

Gently, he adjusted his hold on you, ensuring you were as comfortable as possible despite the dire circumstances.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Ben couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle at your teasing, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Always the joker, huh?", he murmured, his voice laced with affection and a hint of nervousness.

But beneath the light banter, there was a palpable sense of fear and concern in Ben's eyes. He held you close, his grip tightening ever so slightly.

As Ben felt your heartbeat grow weaker in his arms, a wave of concern washed over him, his expression turning somber as he realized the severity of your condition. Gently, he pressed his hand against your chest, feeling the faint rhythm beneath his fingertips.

“Hey, hang in there”, he whispered, his voice tinged with urgency.

As Ben finally reached the Team´s Van, he carefully laid you down on the backseat, his hands trembling slightly as he fumbled for the first aid kit. With practiced efficiency, he began to rummage through its contents, his mind racing as he searched for anything that could help stabilize your rapidly deteriorating condition.

“Alright, sweetheart”, he murmured, as he gently adjusted your position. “This might sting a bit”.

You groaned softly in response, the pain evident in the lines of your face as you struggled to remain conscious. Your pulse grew fainter with each passing moment, sending a shiver of fear down Ben’s spine as he fought to keep his composure.

Ben rolled up his sleeves and reached for a blade, his movements precise as he prepared to make a small incision on his wrist. “Alright, time for a little blood transfusion”, he quipped, a nervous edge creeping into his voice as he attempted to lighten the mood.

As he began to cut, a bead of sweat formed on his brow, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched the crimson liquid well up from the wound.

As Ben infused his blood into your system, he couldn't help but feel a surge of desperation wash over him. With each drop that mingled with your own, he prayed silently that it would be enough to save you from the brink of death.

As he worked, his gaze wandered over your battered and bruised body, taking in the extent of the injuries you had sustained. Broken bones, deep lacerations, and bruises marred your skin, evidence of the brutal ordeal you had endured. Yet, despite the pain you were in, you had still managed to find the strength to tease him about his penchant for playing the hero.

A bitter smile tugged at the corners of Ben's lips as he reflected on your words. In that moment, he realized just how much he relied on that role to give him purpose, to drive him forward even in the face of insurmountable odds. But now, as he fought to save your life, he couldn't help but wonder if he was truly capable of being the hero you needed him to be.

With a heavy heart, Ben continued to administer the blood transfusion, his movements steady and sure despite the turmoil raging within him.

As Ben carefully pulled your unconscious body into his lap, he cradled you against his chest, feeling the weight of your limp form against his own. His blood steadily dripping into your veins as he held you tight, unwilling to let go.

Ben leaned his head back against the seat, his fingers gently tracing the contours of your face as he whispered words of encouragement, desperate to reach you even in your unconscious state.

"Come on, (Y/N), you've got this", he murmured, his voice soft and soothing despite the fear that gnawed at his insides. "You're tougher than anyone I know. You'll pull through this".

Despite his attempts to remain composed, Ben couldn't help but feel the weight of the situation pressing down on him, the fear of losing you threatening to overwhelm him.

As Ben held you close, his heart skipped a beat as he felt a faint stir beneath his fingertips. With bated breath, he pressed his ear against your chest, listening intently as your heartbeat began to grow stronger, albeit still faint.

A surge of relief washed over him, mingled with a glimmer of hope as he realized that you were fighting to cling to life.

"You're doing great, (Y/N)", he whispered. "Just hang in there a little longer".

As he spoke, Ben gently adjusted the IV line, ensuring that the blood transfusion continued uninterrupted.

As footsteps drew nearer, Ben's muscles tensed, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive as he prepared for a potential threat. With practiced efficiency, he tucked the first aid kit away, his gaze locked on the approaching figures.

His heart skipped a beat as Annie emerged from the shadows, followed closely by the rest of the team. Relief flooded through him at the sight of familiar faces, but it was quickly overshadowed by a surge of anger and frustration.

"What the fuck took you so long?", Ben snapped, his voice sharp with accusation as he glared at the approaching group. "You're supposed to be the fucking heroes, aren't you?".

Annie's brow furrowed with concern as she approached, her eyes flickering with worry as she took in the sight of you cradled in Ben's arms. "We came as fast as we could", she insisted, her voice tinged with frustration. "We had to make sure the area was secure".

Ben's lip curled into a sneer as he shot back, his tone biting with sarcasm. "And how's that fucking working out for you?", he retorted, his gaze icy as he tightened his grip on you, as if daring anyone to challenge him.

As the team gathered around, Ben's anger simmered just beneath the surface, his protective instincts flaring up as he shielded you from view, unwilling to let anyone else get too close. Despite his gruff exterior, there was a fierce determination in his eyes, a silent promise to do whatever it took to keep you safe.

Annie's voice was laced with genuine remorse as she stepped forward, her expression contrite. "I'm sorry", she began, "We should have been here sooner, for saving her. We should have…"

But Ben cut her off as he refused to accept her apology. "Sorry isn't fucking good enough", he spat, his voice sharp with frustration. "You were supposed to save her. You were supposed to fucking protect her".

His accusatory gaze swept over the rest of the team, his eyes landing on Frenchie with a searing intensity. "And you", he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You were supposed to be looking out for her. Where the fuck were you when she needed you?".

Frenchie's expression fell, guilt washing over him as he struggled to find the words to defend himself. "I… I'm sorry, Soldier Boy", he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I should have been there. I should have…"

But Ben wasn't interested in excuses. His anger burned hot and fierce, fueled by the fear and frustration of nearly losing you.

Ben's voice was seething with fury as he glared at the rest of the team, his words cutting through the tense silence like a knife. "If it wasn't for me, she'd be fucking dead right now", he spat, his tone laced with anger and frustration. "I'm the one who saved her. I'm the one who kept her alive".

As he spoke, his hands trembled with barely contained rage, the pressure of the situation weighing heavily on him. In his fury, he didn't realize the force with which he gripped your unconscious body, his fingers digging into your skin as he fought to maintain his composure.

Suddenly, his rage boiled over, his grip crushing one of your ribs with a sickening crack. The sound echoed through the quiet space.

As Ben's fury continued to boil over, the rest of the team exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of how to proceed. Annie took a hesitant step forward, her expression filled with concern, but Ben's glare stopped her in her tracks.

"Leave us the fuck alone!", he roared. "All of you!".

His words were like a slap in the face. They remained rooted to the spot, paralyzed by uncertainty.

Ben's rage only seemed to grow in intensity, his accusations becoming more and more cutting with each passing moment. "You're fucking useless", he spat, his voice dripping with contempt. "You couldn't protect her. You couldn't save her. You're all just a bunch of fucking cowards!".

In order not to escalate the situation further, Butcher indicated to the others to leave the two of you alone.

Alone with you in the quiet car, Ben’s senses were hyper-focused on the sound of your heartbeat. With each passing moment, it grew stronger, more steady.

As he listened to the rhythmic thump of your heart, a sense of relief washed over Ben, dispelling some of the fear and uncertainty that had gripped him since he first found you unconscious.

With your heartbeat growing stronger and more stable, he waited until he was certain you were in a relatively stable condition before bringing you back into the apartment.

The rest of the team remained silent as Ben passed by them, their eyes following him with a mix of concern and respect. They knew better than to interfere or approach him as he made his way towards the bathroom with you cradled in his arms.

If you weren't dependent on him and his help, his anger would certainly have led him to slaughter Butcher and the rest of the useless monkeys

In the bathroom, Ben worked with careful precision, his hands moving deftly as he cleaned the wounds that marred your battered body. Each touch was gentle, yet purposeful, as he navigated the delicate task of tending to your injuries without causing further harm.

He worked methodically, his brow furrowed in concentration as he cleaned away the blood and dirt that stained your skin. With each swipe, he revealed the extent of the damage you had endured, his heart clenching with each new bruise and laceration he uncovered.

As he finished cleaning your body, Ben moved on to bandaging your rips to steady them.

With a weary sigh, Ben leaned back against the bathroom wall, his muscles aching with exhaustion. He ran a hand through his hair, the weight of fatigue settling heavily upon him, but his eyes remained fixed on your unconscious form, his concern unwavering.

Despite the overwhelming exhaustion that threatened to engulf him, Ben knew that his priority was ensuring your comfort and safety. Careful, he draped a towel around you, shielding your modesty before gently scooping you up in his arms once more.

As he carried you into his room, Ben’s steps were slow and deliberate, his movements careful to avoid jostling you unnecessarily. He laid you down on the bed with the utmost care, tucking the blankets around you with gentle hands.

With a final glance, Ben brushed a strand of hair away from your face and sank down on the chair next to you.

As Ben settled into the chair beside your bed, he reached into his bedside table and pulled out a joint, his fingers trembling slightly as he lit it. The familiar scent of smoke filled the room, mingling with the heavy silence that hung in the air.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, the rest of the team sat in somber silence, the weight of the recent events pressing down upon them. Annie’s expression was one of profound regret as she spoke up, her voice heavy with guilt.

“I can’t believe I wasn’t able to help her”, she murmured, her eyes clouded with sadness. “I should have been there for her”.

Butcher, ever the pragmatist, furrowed his brow in thought, his mind working to make sense of Ben’s intense reaction to your plight.

“Why the bloody hell is he so bent out of shape over her?”, he mused aloud. And just like that, the topic of how no one but Ben was capable of saving you slipped into the background.

Annie cast a knowing glance at Butcher as she spoke. "Ben has always had a soft spot for her, even if he'd never admit it".

Butcher let out a grunt, his expression skeptical as he mulled over Annie's words. Despite his doubts, he couldn't deny the possibility that there was more to Ben's reaction than met the eye.

Frenchie remained quiet, his thoughts hidden.

“Butcher, you think Soldier Boy’s got a thing for her?”, Hughie asked, his voice tinged with surprise.

Butcher nodded, his expression grim. “Aye, he’s always had a thing for her”, he confirmed. “But fucking her and being this intense about it is something else”.

"It just seems like there's more to the story", Annie mumbled.

Butcher grunted in acknowledgment, his gaze drifting to the door of Ben's room. "Could be", he conceded, his voice low and thoughtful. "Either way, we've got bigger bloody problems to deal with now."

Annie sighed heavily, her frustration evident in the furrow of her brow. "I can't believe he got away again", she muttered, shaking her head in disbelief.

"We need to figure out a way to track him down", Frenchie insisted, his tone determined despite the odds stacked against them.

Butcher's gaze hardened, his jaw clenching with resolve. "We'll find him", he vowed, his voice carrying a steely edge as he reaffirmed their commitment to bringing Homelander to justice.

24 hours later, Ben still remained by your side, his vigil unyielding despite the passing of time. He hadn't eaten or drunk anything, his sole focus centered on you and the faint rhythm of your heartbeat that served as a lifeline in the darkness.

With each breath, Ben's resolve only strengthened. The rest of the team had ventured out in search of Homelander, but Ben refused to abandon his post, knowing that you needed him now more than ever.

As the hours passed by in tense silence, a subtle change began to stir in the air. Ben's gaze remained fixed on you, his senses heightened as he watched for any sign of movement or change.

Then, almost imperceptibly at first, your hand began to twitch, a faint flutter of movement that caught Ben's attention.

With bated breath, Ben reached out, his fingers hovering just above yours as he waited. Time seemed to stand still as he watched, his heart pounding in his ears.

And then, ever so slowly, your fingers curled slightly, a faint movement that sent a surge of relief coursing through Ben's veins.

"(Y/N)… can you hear me?", he murmured, his words hanging in the air as he waited for a response.

As consciousness began to return to you, your senses slowly coming back into focus, you found yourself greeted by the sound of Ben's voice, his words laced with a familiar blend of humor and affection.

"Hey there, Sleeping Beauty", he quipped, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he attempted to lighten the mood. "You sure know how to make a grand entrance".

Deep down, Ben was relieved beyond words to see you awake and aware, but he wasn't about to let his guard down just yet.

As Ben helped you sit up, he made sure to arrange the pillows behind you for added support, his movements careful and gentle. "There you go, easy does it", he murmured, his tone soft and reassuring as he ensured your comfort.

Once you were settled, he turned his attention to you, his gaze searching your face for any signs of discomfort. "How are you feeling?", he asked.

You let out a weary sigh, your energy depleted from the ordeal you had endured. "Exhausted", you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper as you leaned back against the pillows. "Feel like I've been through the wringer".

Despite your fatigue, a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you glanced at Ben. "But I'm alive, thanks to you", you added, your gratitude evident in your tone.

Ben flashed a lopsided grin as he leaned in closer. "Well, I'm glad I could save your sorry ass", he quipped, his tone lightening the mood despite the seriousness of the situation. "And hey, most of your wounds are healed up nicely. Except for that cracked rib".

"Accidents happen, right?", he added with a chuckle, attempting to downplay his guilt.

As Ben carefully pulled down the blanket and towel, revealing the bandage wrapped around your torso, you couldn't help but let out a raspy chuckle. "How the hell did you manage this?", you asked, your voice weak but tinged with humor.

Ben scratching the back of his neck. "I got a bit carried away", he mumbled.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you glanced down at your naked body, the realization sinking in that you were completely exposed before Ben. Despite your weakened state, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of self-consciousness at being so vulnerable in front of him.

Clearing your throat awkwardly, you shifted slightly, attempting to cover yourself with the blanket as best you could. “Sorry about that”, you mumbled, your cheeks still tinged with color. “Guess I’m not exactly in top form at the moment”.

Ben’s expression softened as he reached out to gently tuck the blanket around you.

"Shut up", he said softly, a hint of warmth in his voice as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face. Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment before he pulled away.

"I'll get you something to eat", he said, his tone firm yet caring. "You need to regain your strength".

Ben rose from the chair and made his way to the kitchen, leaving you in his room.

As Ben entered the kitchen, he spotted Annie in the midst of making herself a sandwich. Without a word, he strode over and grabbed her plate, much to her surprise.

"Hey, what the hell?", Annie protested, her brows furrowing in confusion.

Ignoring her complaints, Ben added some chocolate bars. "She needs it more than you do", he replied bluntly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Annie opened her mouth to retort, but the look in Ben's eyes stopped her in her tracks.

After Ben gathered the food, he headed back to his room. Annie watched him go with a mix of curiosity and concern. She couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt at being unable to help you when you needed it most.

Sitting down at the table, Annie sighed heavily, her thoughts swirling with worry and uncertainty. She knew that finding Homelander was their top priority, but she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that they were leaving you in capable hands.

As Ben returned to the room, you rubbed your eyes tiredly, watching him with a mixture of gratitude and exhaustion. "I'm not really that hungry", you admitted, your voice soft and weary.

But Ben wasn't having it. With a firm resolve, he set the plate down on the bedside table. "You need to eat", he insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Sighing, you nodded reluctantly, realizing that arguing with Ben would be futile. As he settled into the chair beside the bed, you reluctantly reached for a chocolate bar, taking a small bite as you tried to muster up the energy to eat.

"Thanks for bringing this though", you said, genuinely appreciative of Ben's thoughtfulness.

As you finished the small snack, Ben turned his attention back to you. "So, how are you feeling now?", he asked, his tone light but attentive.

You couldn't help but chuckle at his teasing tone, even though you knew he was genuinely concerned for your well-being. "Well, I'm still alive, so that's a good start", you quipped, a faint smile playing at the corners of your lips. "But seriously, I'm okay. Just a bit sore and tired".

Ben nodded, a hint of relief evident in his expression. "Good to hear", he replied. "Just take it easy for now. We'll figure out what to do next once you're feeling better".

You furrowed your brow in confusion as you struggled to piece together the events leading up to your unconsciousness. "I don't remember anything after the explosion", you admitted, your voice tinged with concern. "What happened?".

Soldier Boy took a deep breath. "I managed to take down that fucking pussy", he explained. "But he managed to get away again. The team's been out, searching for him ever since. Coming and going".

You nodded, absorbing the information with a sense of resignation. "Damn", you muttered, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "I can't believe he got away again".

"We'll find him", he said firmly, his tone unwavering. "But for now, let's focus on getting you back on your feet".

You offered Ben a grateful smile, your eyes reflecting genuine appreciation. "Thank you for taking care of me", you said softly. "I don't think I would've made it without you".

He waved off your gratitude. "Ah, it was nothing".

Despite his attempts to downplay his role, you could see the sincerity in his eyes, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude towards him for being there when you needed him most.

Ben watched you nibble on your sandwich, his expression softening as he took in your tired but slightly improved state. He cleared his throat before speaking, his tone careful yet filled with underlying concern.

"What did they do to you in that lab?", he asked.

You paused, setting down the half-eaten sandwich, the memories of the harrowing experience flooding back. With a heavy sigh, you began to recount the torturous tests and experiments you endured at the hands of Vought’s doctors.

“They… they ran all sorts of tests”, you started, your voice trembling slightly as you recalled the ordeal. “Extracting fluids, cutting into me for tissue samples… It was relentless”.

Ben’s jaw clenched as he listened, his expression darkening with anger at the thought of what you had endured.

As you recounted the horrors you endured, Ben felt a surge of protectiveness well up within him. Without hesitation, he shifted beside you, his back against the headboard, and carefully pulled you into his arms, your head resting gently on his lap.

“I fucking swear to you”, he murmured, his voice low and determined, “I’m gonna kill that fucking cocksucker for what he did to you”.

You looked up at him, gratitude shining in your eyes despite the pain and exhaustion. “Ben, you don’t have to do that”, you protested weakly.

But Ben shook his head, his grip tightening around you. “No, (Y/N)”, he insisted firmly. “He needs to fucking pay for what he’s done”.

You looked up at Ben, a mixture of admiration and concern in your eyes. “Ben…".

Ben’s voice was firm as he interrupted you. “Cut it out, (Y/N)”, he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m gonna kill that bastard”.

You sighed, knowing there was no changing his mind once he was set on something. “Just promise me you’ll be careful”, you pleaded, your voice tinged with worry.

Ben's gaze softened as he met your eyes. "You should be the one who needs to be careful", he replied. "Your little human body might not be able to handle another round with Homelander".

You chuckled weakly, the corners of your lips turning up in a tired smile. "I'll try my best", you promised, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ben's expression softened as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face. "That's all I fucking ask", he murmured.

You couldn't help but giggle at the sensation of Ben's soft touch on your face, a warmth spreading through you at the gentle caress. "I like this side of you", you admitted with a playful grin, your eyes meeting his.

Ben's expression softened, a rare hint of vulnerability shining in his eyes as he chuckled gruffly. "Don't get used to it", he retorted, his tone teasing but genuine.

You grinned mischievously, letting out a playful laugh. "Too late", you quipped.

Ben rolled his eyes, but a faint smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, well, don't get too comfortable", he replied. "I'm only being nice because I kinda feel bad about breaking your rib".

As Ben leaned down, he carefully scooped your weak and naked body into his strong arms, his touch gentle yet firm. With tender affection, he pressed his lips to yours.

As he pulled back slightly, his gaze meeting yours. "I won't tell anybody about your soft side", you whispered with a playful grin, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ben chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he leaned in to whisper back, "Good. Because then I'd have to deny it and break another rib".

Feeling Ben start to pull away, you weakly cupped his face in your hands, a silent plea in your eyes as you tugged him down to you once more, craving the comfort and connection of his kiss.

Ben hesitated for a moment, his gaze searching yours for any sign of hesitation or discomfort. Seeing only warmth and affection reflected back at him, he gave in to the pull of your touch, lowering his lips to meet yours in a tender embrace.

As your lips met once more, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you in a moment of quiet intimacy amidst the chaos and uncertainty that surrounded you.

As the kiss deepened, Ben grinned against your lips. "Guess I'll have to show you more of that 'soft side' sometime, sweetheart".

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Oh, so now you're admitting you have one?".

Ben´s hands trailing lightly along your sides. "I've still got a reputation to uphold".

As the tender moment lingered between you, a sudden rumble echoed through the room, emanating from Ben's stomach. He paused mid-kiss, a sheepish expression crossing his face as he chuckled softly.

"Guess I should've eaten something earlier", he mumbled.

You couldn't help but giggle at the unexpected interruption, the sound light and carefree despite the gravity of the situation. "Looks like someone's hungry".

Ben grinned, leaning back slightly to meet your gaze. "Yeah, well, I've got a growing appetite", he replied with a wink, his tone playful as he shifted to get up from the bed.

"Well, Maybe you should get something to eat. After all, you can't take care of me if you're starving".

"Alright, alright", he relented. "But don't go anywhere while I'm gone, alright? I don't want you causing any more fucking trouble".

You grinned up at him, nodding in agreement. "Wouldn't dream of it", you replied cheekily.

———————————

A/N: SURPRISEEEEEE :P

Please let me know what you think.🥰

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Part 17

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[ozzgin]

Yandere! CoD Headcanons: König x Reader x Ghost (II)

“Sharing is caring” is likely familiar to most, though the nuances of it may sometimes differ beyond the classic expectations. You’re trapped between two jealous, possessive and feverishly infatuated men with no escape in your sight. That implies, of course, you’ve been looking for a way out of this bizarre partnership. Have you? Be honest…

TW: NSFW, obsessive behavior, size kink, violence

Tags: @223princess

[Part I]

Yet another classic rule that comes with your job is to always be ready to deal with the unexpected. Plan as well as you may, the battleground is not as generous as to stick to your schedule. Yet the same principle applies out of combat, too. It’s just…you had’t really imagined such an outcome to be possible. Your extensive training covered most scenarios, from raids, to ambushes, natural disasters, everything except, well, this. You wonder if the code of conduct might include a paragraph about work romance, specifically your teammates taking turns to fuck you shamelessly at any hour of the day.

You gaze at your reflection in the slightly fogged mirror and quickly look away, embarrassed. You can’t bear to see the markings that are peppered all over your body, betraying the depraved activities you’ve indulged in for the past weeks. How did it even come to this? You sit on the edge of the bed, drying your hair, and hesitantly replay the event in your head. Your helpless form crouched on the storage floor, looking up at the two large men gripping at each other’s throats. Behind their masks you could sense their ferocious intent to kill. How would you explain it to your superiors? You gathered up your remaining confidence and barked at them to stop at once. They were indeed taken aback by your sudden yell that could’ve put any drill sergeant to shame. You wanted to get to the bottom of the conflict and put all this bullshit behind as soon as possible. Until they offered you the honest cause of their hostile rivalry. You could only stare in disbelief.

Your first instinct was to wonder if this was some sort of elaborate prank. What the hell, were they a bunch of high schoolers learning to handle their first crush or fucking grown adults in the middle of a military operation? You were never oblivious to it: mixed gender missions always came with a lot of casual hookups to blow off steam. Not your thing, but there’s plenty of other people down to it. Your suggestion was met with angry, vehement refusal. Both Ghost and König were outraged at the insinuation they’d put their dicks in some rando, as if that’s all there was to it. As if anyone else would do. Ironically this is where they found their common ground. König had lifted you nonchalantly by the collar of your uniform and asked you if you’re playing dumb. You could only shrug, even more confused. Ghost joined him and explained, casually and matter-of-fact, that you can call it a hookup as long as you remember it’s a lifelong arrangement. You were to walk out that door with the knowledge you belong to them and they would take any necessary steps to ensure your compliance. The hunting knife that was meant to plunge into his rival was now propped under your chin, dangerously close to your throbbing artery.

Now this should’ve been your sign to nod obediently, pack your suitcase at the earliest convenience and get the hell out. And that was your honest intent, initially. You could almost visualize the documents granting your absence from duty. Then you felt your buttons pop from their seams, forcefully ripped apart by König’s large hand. It occurred to you that you were propped against the wall by two men twice your size. You could hear their now labored breaths, muffled by their masks. The Austrian man roughly readjusted your posture, having you rest against his hips and throwing your legs around his waist. You gasped quietly once you sensed a bulge pressing into you. He fumbled with his zipper, but Ghost interrupted him with an irritated scolding. “You can’t just ram it in, you fucking dumbass.” You didn’t take long to understand the meaning and shivered at the thought. Without a warning, Ghost slid his hand into your now unbuckled pants. Two fingers begun pressing circles over your underwear and an unconscious whine escaped your lips. Satisfied by your reaction, he brought himself closer and increased the pace until he felt the moisture pooling in the fabric, which was enough encouragement to gently slip his way inside of you. In an attempt to help, König lowered his head over your breasts, fondling your now sensitive nipples with his tongue. His mask draped over your skin, adding a mild tickle to the overwhelming buildup. You suddenly remembered the storage no longer had a door after König kicked it out of its hinges, so you tried to push the muscular man away. “W-what if someone comes in?” Against your will and to your surprise, the question rolled out like a prolonged moan and you blushed awkwardly. “They won’t, if you shut up.” Ghost responded curtly. He considered it for a moment, and added smugly: “Don’t worry, that pretty mouth of yours will be real busy soon.” You closed your eyes tightly and prayed you wouldn’t be caught.

And you weren’t. You got away with it. That time, and the other time, and all the other times. At this point you question whether your other teammates truly haven’t noticed or have since learned to look away. Another possibility is that the psychotic duo has threatened the others into silence. Given their cocky attitude whenever you protest about the openness or risky timing, it wouldn’t surprise you at all. Even worse, their libido seems to be increasing exponentially as a consequence to their incessant competition of owning you. They seem to be plagued by a delirious need to have you at all times, and you’re rather afraid to admit that your desire to flee is slowly being replaced by a similar addiction. Rabid dogs in heat. That’s the only analogy that comes to mind.

Last time you didn’t even get the chance to return to the base. The soldiers had exited the truck, cheering their success and marching towards the gate. König had been quiet the entire ride, not even bothering to hide his ardent stare, his eyes hooded with lust. You were about to hop off yourself when you felt his burning grip on your wrist, pulling you back in and onto his lap. Oh, how he loves fucking you like this. His toned legs are sprawled out dominantly and his calloused hands guide you over his erection. No matter how many times you do it, the start is always painful. He’s just that big. But that’s his favorite part. Seeing you wince and tear up, holding your stomach as if shielding it from the foreign object assaulting the walls of your frail body. Then the thrusts become smoother and your movements break into an erratic pleading for more. He wants to witness it all. God, you turn him into a wild animal. His fingers dig into your skin and towards the end you’re a whimpering mess, shamelessly drooling over his uniform in a daze. As you coat him with your slick cum, he grunts and barely manages to speak. “Fuck, I’m gonna lose my mind for good one of these days.” His voice is deep and reverberates against your heaving chest.

Scratch that. Last time you didn’t even make it to the truck. You were laying behind a boulder, wiping the sweat and dirt off your face. You’d just finished taking out your targets and announced your return in the headset. Ghost approaches you with a hidden smirk and squats before you, extending a hand towards you. “Need help?” You nod with gratitude and take off your helmet. You reach for his hand, hoping he’d pull you up, but instead his fingers claw around your throat and push you against the ground. “Good, I have the perfect thing for a little slut like you.” He climbs over you without letting go of your neck and undoes your jacket with ease. Hell, he’s been doing it so often he could manage even blindfolded. With the free hand he shoves one of your legs away to make space. Truth be told, he’s very much biased towards this particular arrangement. He can already feel the unbearable pressure of his member waiting to be freed. He adores being able to take all of you in. Your expression, your small body trapped under his massive frame. He can fuck you as he pleases, until you turn into a rag doll, and there’s no way out. You grit your teeth in anticipation and hold onto his arm that’s choking you once he goes in. You must’ve been molded just for him. There’s no other explanation for his feral clinginess, scratching and biting and pulling in desperate, agonizing pleasure. After the deed has been done he can admire his masterful work, gazing lovingly at your flustered, disheveled form, gasping for air and dripping with his seed.

Your shake your head and try to chase away these perverted memories. You’re still damp from the shower and continue massaging your scalp with the towel, when you hear a knock on your door. Oh, no. No. “Busy!” is all you manage to shout. The door opens nonetheless and Ghost and König waltz in, entirely indifferent to your refusal. “Can’t I have one moment to myself?” You groan, frustrated. König leans against the wall and Ghost kneels in front of you. There’s a hint of cheekiness in his voice. “Sure. Tell us to go away and we will.” You blink and ponder his words. Remembering all the past encounters has gotten you a little bit eager, that’s true, but… “Say it.” He repeats himself. You squirm and look away, a deep red spreading across your face. Your lips are pursed. König lets out a soft laugh and closes the door, then faces you. “Since you wanted to be a brat, you have to beg for it now.”

What have you gotten yourself into?

[charlosvibesonly]

Racing Hearts - Part 2

A Max Verstappen Imagine

Part 1

pairing : max x fem! reader/driver

the aftermath of their unexpected kisses is driving the racing world crazy. and y/n can't help but fall for him.

please lmk if you want this to be a series!

The night air was filled with anticipation as you and Max stayed there, lingering in the aftermath of the unexpected kiss. As days passed, you found yourself inexplicably attracted to Max in a way that surpassed the excitement of the racetrack. The articles and headlines about your growing connection were impossible to ignore, and soon, even you were caught up in the romance that they portrayed.

Snippets from articles read,

"From fierce rivals to unexpected lovers, Y/N and Max's story is straight out of a Hollywood script. Once a battleground, the racetrack is now the backdrop for their burgeoning romance."

"Fans can't get enough of the unexpected chemistry between Y/N and Max. Is it love or a strategic move to keep the competition on track?"

"In a surprising turn of events, the racetrack has become the stage for a love story that transcends the finish line. Can these racing rivals make it work off the track?"

The tabloids and fans alike speculated on the authenticity of your relationship, dissecting every shared glance and lingering touch. Amid it all, you found yourself genuinely liking Max, a realization that both thrilled and terrified you. The thrill of racing was now accompanied by the happiness of stolen glances and the gentle brush of hands during press events.

It was the Silverstone weekend. Y/N went to a club at her friends’ persuasion. The dim, pulsating lights cast a hazy glow over the dance floor, where bodies swayed.

However, the vibrant energy took a swift downturn when you stumbled upon Max. His presence stood out amidst the chaotic dance floor, his sleek black attire making him an unmistakable figure in the sea of people. Your breath hitched as you caught sight of him, his arms wrapped around another girl, their laughter blending with the bass-heavy music.

At that moment, the world seemed to slow down, the rhythmic beats of the music fading into the background. Hurt and blindsided, you felt a sudden weight in your chest, and a knot tightened in the pit of your stomach.

His eyes met yours, you could see the realization dawning on his face. Without a word, you turned away, determined to escape the suffocating atmosphere.

Max hurried after you, pulling you back.

"Where are you going?" he asked a mix of concern in his eyes.

"Somewhere I don't bother you and your date," you replied, your anger palpable.

“Must have been so fun right? Playing with me.” your voice breaking.

Tears rolled down your cheeks, and you left without giving him a chance to explain. 

Arriving at the hotel, you retreated to the solitude of your room, hoping the night would make you hurt less. 

It was race day. And you wanted revenge. Max and you were in a very close fight for the championship, this win could give you an advantage. And you wanted it. 

Rain was forecasted. The downpour was obviously in Max’s favor. You cursed your luck. But decided to give him an equally tough fight. You weren’t the kind to back down.

As the cars navigated the treacherous turns, the rain intensified, challenging even the most seasoned drivers. The spray of water, illuminated by the headlights, created a dazzling display that added a layer of drama to the already high-stakes competition. The race unfolded like a dance between machines and elements, a battle not only against each other but also against the relentless forces of nature.

Amidst the chaos, Max executed a surprising move, a strategic decision that played a pivotal role in helping you secure the lead.

“Y/N wins the British Grand Prix!”

The noise was deafening.

But you weren’t celebrating. A thousand questions ran through your head. Your eyes searched for Max. Making your way towards to garage, you stood in front of him.

So many things you wanted to know, but all you could say was, “Why?”

"You stopped talking to me, Y/N," Max began, his voice cutting through the chaotic symphony of the rain and engines. His gaze bore into yours, seeking understanding. "You just went away. I wasn't playing around, and I certainly wasn't on a date. She was just a fan, a little too eager. You have to believe me; I'd never mess with you like that. I think I like you too much for it."

As he spoke, Max's emotions played out on his expressive face. There was a hint of regret for the misunderstanding, a touch of vulnerability in the admission of liking you, and a determination to set things right.

In the midst of it all, the call to the podium interrupted, leaving Max's explanation hanging in the air. 

On the podium, with rain still pouring down, the fans eagerly anticipated a kiss. The scent of wet asphalt mixed with the sweet champagne hung in the air as you stood next to Max. Your racing suits, now drenched, clung to your bodies, creating a scene that echoed the intensity of the race you both had just conquered.

In that charged moment, emotions swirled within you like a storm. The recent hurt and confusion from the club scene were still fresh, an ache in your chest that begged for resolution.

Seizing the moment, you took Max's face in your hands. Your eyes revealed a mix of emotions – anger and hurt were there, yes, but underneath it all, a burning desire to set things right, to redefine the narrative that had spiraled out of control. The kiss that followed caught Max off guard.

Surprised by your sudden boldness, Max responded with eagerness. He pulled you closer, the racing suits sticking to your bodies like a second skin. Max lifted you into the air, clearly showing how eager he was. As you hung in his arms, Fernando, sharing the podium, grabbed a bottle of champagne and poured it over both of you. The kiss continued, undeterred by the rain, and crowd.

As you broke away, you realized that you were no longer rivals; instead, you were something undefined, something that went beyond the racetrack.

The post-race interview was a chorus of questions about your evolving relationship. 

"Y/N, Max, can you confirm if this is a real romance or just a publicity stunt?" one reporter asked.

You exchanged a glance with Max, and laughing you replied, "It's as real as the rain pouring down on us."

Another reporter jumped in, "How did this happen? Weren't you arch-rivals just a while ago?"

Max, a playful smirk on his face, responded, "Well, sometimes, the best races happen when you least expect them."

The other drivers were caught equally off-guard. Charles said in his interview, ”I thought I was the only one with a surprising performance today, but clearly, I underestimated those two.” And he chuckled while watching their kiss being replayed over and over again.

During the interview, your phone buzzed with a text from Max, "Meet me at 9?"

Your smile was his answer. 

Clearly distracted, a reporter tried to grab Max’s attention, "So, are we going to see more public displays of affection in the future?"

Looking at you Max answered, "Well, you'll have to wait and see. We're just getting started."