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cosmoszyn · 2 months ago

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open arms | zayne.

synopsis: zayne picks you up at the bus station in a downpour, attempting to appease you after a small argument

content: zayne x reader, little hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship, banters, reader is a lil stubborn and hard-headed

word count: 2,684

author's note: lol this is very self-indulgent and ... sawrry it took this long, i was swamped with work and several travels. likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated!

cross posted in my ao3

“Care to explain what you are doing here in the rain?”

“...No.”

Zayne nearly clicks his tongue at your stubbornness. Instead, he presses the hazard lights in his vehicle and darts his gaze at you again, “Come inside.”

You stare at him with furrowed brows, your arms wrapped around your shivering body with the tiny bus stop shed measly protecting you from the downpour. Zayne seems collected, looking at you expectantly through his glasses from his sleek black Audi, his one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on the passenger seat with its windows rolled down. The offer is tempting enough, especially with the fact that Zayne has set the temperature just as toasty as you wish it would be.

But the earlier argument from your shared space resurfaces in your brain. Which warrants you to take a step back and look to the other side of the road.

“Don’t wanna,” you persist, folding your arms across your chest.

Your lover swallows thickly at your words, body resuming to driving position and looking straight at the road, “Alright. Have it your way,” he says, rolling the windows back up.

And for a second, you feel panic rising in your stomach, knowing that you do want to get in the car and be comfortable! Not to mention that you don’t know what time the next bus will arrive as you’ve been stuck in the shed for almost thirty minutes now, so getting inside his car seemed to be the most reasonable option. But Zayne just pisses you off at the moment.

Until you hear him adjusting the shift gear and the slamming of the car door. Your eyes followed the sound and your gaze was met with Zayne’s hunched back, his left hand doing nothing from shielding his body from the rain, walking around the vehicle. Your hands fall to your sides as he reaches you under the shed and before you can even get a word out, he already has you over his shoulders like a rag doll and within a minute, you were gently placed in the passenger seat of his car.

You couldn’t even protest when he leaned over your space, “You can roll your eyes at me later but I need you to behave now,” he explains, reaching out to the seatbelt and fastening it to your side. “Because if you think I’d let your idiocy and pride win tonight, you must have forgotten who you are dating.”

You immediately roll your eyes at his words. In response, Zayne presses his two fingers in your forehead, gently pushing it backward, “I said, behave.”

He didn’t even give you a chance to reply as he is already closing your door and walking to his side. You fold your arms across your chest again, huffing a breath as you look at your window, watching the raindrops patter on the glass.

Within seconds, Zayne settles beside you, his hair and clothes damp from the drizzle. You take a peek of him from your peripheral vision, watching water drip from the tips of hair to his shoulders. As he fastens his seatbelt, you reach out to the glove compartment of his car, and toss him the box of tissues he keeps religiously.

“You’ll get sick,” you mumble under your breath, avoiding his eyes, insisting on staring at the bus stop shed you were under just a couple of seconds ago. And you know for a fact that Zayne’s lips slightly twitch upward in amusement at your attempts to care for him.

“Isn’t someone so caring?” He says, humor lacing his tone as he pulls the tissues, patting himself dry.

You let out a huff, almost sounding like a scoff, “Savor this moment, I guess. It won’t happen again.”

You hear Zayne tossing the tissues at his cup holders by his door, “And someone’s being a little moody too, huh?”

You ignore his comment, continuing to stare ahead at the window with your lips pressed into a thin line. Zayne, on the other hand, could still feel your frustrations and anger directed at him. He shifts the gear of the car and proceeds to accelerate slowly, deft hands carefully pulling away from the curb and driving through the familiar roads.

Minutes of silence engulfed in the vehicle, neither wanting to break the tension bubbling, afraid that it may lead into an argument again. But despite the uncertainty of the situation, Zayne could never seem to find himself staying in this predicament with you. And so, he softly exhales, “Would you like to explain why you were shivering in the rain earlier?” He almost whispers under his breath.

You huff, “I wasn’t in the rain. I was at the bus stop,” you mumble.

Semantics, he wants to say. But he holds off his tongue. “What made you decide to be sarcastic today?” He says playfully, which warrants another roll of your eyes, refusing to even face him.

“Because someone would rather defend an intern for unabashedly flirting with him than side with his girlfriend,” you grumble under your breath, enough for him to hear.

Your lover purses his lips, knowing only himself could be to blame for even trying to make the atmosphere lighter. He dug his own grave at that moment. His fingertips drumming onto the steering wheel as he recalls how the argument came about.

Earlier, Zayne just arrived from a gruelling 12-hour shift at the hospital, ranting about how he had sudden back-to-back emergency surgeries to take care of while he was pressing a kiss to your hair and simultaneously shrugging off his coat and lab gown. You hum in acknowledgment, telling him how you had already prepared him a nice warm bath in his stead. He sighs in appreciation, sluggishly dragging himself to the bathroom to submerge himself into the water.

And as he does so, you decide to clean up after him, picking up his coat and lab gown from the rack to toss into the laundry. However, the moment you sling his clothes in your arms, you manage to whiff a feminine scent deeply ingrained in your boyfriend’s lab coat. You were absolutely certain that it’s not one of your perfumes as you have never worn anything so powerful from the one that you caught and the fragrance seemed to be quite fresh, like it was sprayed prior to his clock-out at work.

Your mind spirals with all the possibilities. You were definite that Zayne would never… entertain another woman when he is in a committed relationship with you. You knew his character inside out and if he wishes to see other people, you knew deep in your soul that he’d rather tell you straight up than beat around the bush.

You feel your surroundings spinning and your gut twisting at the thought that somebody is doing this to your lover. You take a moment to yourself, carefully sitting down at the couch as you continue to cling onto his clothes. As the seconds ticked into minutes, you barely heard the sound of the bathroom door opening and your boyfriend’s footsteps padding through the hallway of your shared apartment.

“Darling? Why are you still not in bed?” He calls out, ruffling his hair with his towel.

“Zayne,” you say, and he visibly flinches at the tone of your voice and your lack of endearment. You refuse to look at him, your eyes staring straight ahead.

“Is something the matter, my love?” He asks, confusion written all over his face.

You swallow thickly, glancing up at him, “I need you to be honest with me, Zayne.”

His head slightly cocks to the side, “Is there a problem?”

“Your lab coat smells like a different woman,” you say straightforwardly, staring at him with a blank look that demands an explanation and almost begging that none of this is happening. Zayne scowls at your words, “What?” He muttered, taking the coat from yours and sniffing it. Once he caught a whiff of the familiar aroma, he visibly sighs, rubbing his temples and turning his heel away, “It must be that new intern in our department. She seems too eager to be working with me,” he explains in a flat tone, which would’ve been enough for you on a normal day. But for some reason, the gears in your head just turn. “You do not need to worry yourself over this. It’s nothing,” he continued as he placed his gown in the washing machine.

“Have you done anything to call her behavior out?” You ask, trailing behind him, the frown in your face deepening. Zayne clenches his jaw, pressing into the setting of the washing machine “Is it necessary?”

Suddenly, you felt the rage of all your female ancestors rising within you. “You’re asking me if it’s necessary?” You scoff, folding your arms across your chest, “You’re a smart guy, Zayne. What do you think?” You challenge.

Zayne exhales, “Darling, can I ask you to not do this right now?”

“I just need an answer,” you demand.

His face tightens and he sighs, “I do not think it’s necessary as she is just an intern–”

“Then what about me, Zayne?” You ask, cutting him off, “Are my feelings just… unimportant to you?”

You were certain that you were being a little too much right now, especially knowing that your boyfriend has fatigue creeping up on him after his shift. But there was something in you that felt the need to claw out answers from him, even if it’s in an unhealthy way possible.

“My love, I am serious. I would want to have this conversation another time, please,” Zayne calmly says, almost pleading, the weariness in his face growing evident. And instead of letting the subject go, you huff and walk away, “Fine. Have it your way.”

And being stubborn is one thing you know how to do. Because instead of wrapping yourself under the comforts of your duvet in your shared bed, you grab your blanket and pillow while Zayne is expectantly waiting for you to embrace him for the night and lull himself to sleep with your warmth beside him.

“Darling where are you going–?”

“I am not sleeping with you tonight. I am still upset that you did nothing to call her behavior out.”

You thought Zayne would actually trail behind you and ask you to stop being difficult, using his strength to force you back to bed. But he lets you grumble on the couch, settling yourself underneath the thin blanket that does nothing to warm you up. You toss and turn on the couch, desperate to catch some sleep and a comfortable position but to no avail.

Until you hear careful footsteps padding across the living which elicits a thought from you that maybe he will finally ask you to come back to bed.

You wait for his words as your eyes are screwed shut, pretending to be asleep. Instead, you just hear the front door of your apartment opening and closing.

And in your frustration and anger, instead of following him and asking him to come back home, knowing he just went to the hospital to continue working, you returned the favor. You decided to go to the Hunters Association and finish the paperwork you have been putting off since last week.

Which led you to your predicament of being stuck on the bus stop while the rain poured heavily from the skies.

The car was filled with another minute of silence and he’s finding the right words to say to his lover. In the first place, he was never good with verbalizing his feelings, so being in this dilemma makes him feel a little queasy, especially when this seemed to be the biggest problem you two have encountered as a couple so far.

As he continues to file through his brain on what to say, he decides on a simple thing, “I’m sorry.”

You ignore his words.

“You have every right to be mad at me tonight but all I ask of you is to sleep beside me later,” he said, carefully driving through the slippery streets.

“Bold of you to demand that when you just up and left without a word,” you grumble.

“I had to take care of things,” he replies calmly. And in your head, you were already screaming several sarcastic remarks and rolling your eyes until you were sure you could see your skull. But before you could settle in on a perfect comeback, he speaks up again, “It seems I wasn’t appreciating my girlfriend’s feelings enough that I had to let her go through that emotional turmoil.”

You bite your inner cheek, listening to his words. “And I hope she listens to me tonight and comes home because I have already dealt with a rather… nuisance of a trainee at the hospital. Only to find out from my lover’s colleague that she worked overtime and is shivering in the rain,” he says.

Finally, you turn your head to meet his gaze, which has been glued the entire time on the road. “You did?” You ask, almost in a whisper.

He merely nods, “I could never live with the fact that you feel insecure in this relationship. It is my job to have you feel assured and safe. And if it meant driving back to the hospital to speak with the intern in the midst of her night shift, I would gladly do so.”

Your bottom lip juts out instinctively as you feel your heart swell in his words, “Zayne…”

“Besides, I could also never stand living with someone so grumpy and hard-headed to the point where she’d let me sleep alone in the bed.”

“Hey!”

Zayne’s lips slightly twitch upward as he knows you only focused on the first words. The stoplight glows yellow then transitions into a bright red, opting your lover to pause his driving and turn to you, “Is the little grouchy girl finished with her tantrums?”

“I’m not grouchy! My feelings were valid, Zayne,” you huff.

Zayne suppresses his smile as he presses a hand to your cheek, “I know, my love. Your feelings were and are valid. I apologize if it seemed like I wasn’t prioritizing you.”

You release a small sigh, your lips slightly quivering upward at the feelings of his warm hands, “Okay. I’m sorry too, Zayne. I was being a little harsh and forceful.”

“Apology slightly accepted,” he replies, removing his hand from yours, placing it back on the steering wheel.

Your eyes fly open at his words, cocking your head sideways in confusion, “Slightly?”

“Well you do have to compensate me for spending the night chasing you instead of resting, dear,” he says, pushing his glasses upward. You narrow your eyes at him in suspicion as he slowly accelerates the vehicle again, “What kind of compensation?”

Instead of replying to you, his lips break out a wide smile and his right hand taps on his cheek twice while his eyes remain on the road, and his left hand maneuvering the steering wheel effortlessly (which makes you feel things but you ignore it).

You raise a brow at him “Just a kiss on the cheek?”

Zayne remained silent. Thinking it was nothing, you shrugged and leaned forward, ready to press a kiss to his cheek. But before you can reach the skin of his cheek, he suddenly turns his head, urging you to plant your lips with his momentarily, causing your eyes to widen. He pulls away from the peck, catching a glimpse of your surprised expression with a smug smirk threatening to pull from the corners of his mouth.

“Zayne, that was dangerous!” You exclaim, your fingertips ghosting over your lips while heat creeps up your cheeks. Instead of replying, your lover merely hums, continuing his drive like nothing happened, eyes glued to the road as he feels you beside him still recover from the fleeting kiss.

“At least I fully accepted your apology, did I not?”

“Even if it cost us our lives?”

“Oh please my love, don’t be dramatic.”

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cherrygirlfriend · 21 days ago

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☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ GAMER BOY >⩊<

pairing: nerd!rafe x perv!reader

summary: rafe is gaming and isn’t giving you attention so you decide to take it.

warnings / tags: smut, cockwarming, unprotected PIV, sub!rafe tries to be dominant but reader puts a stop to it, choking, dirty talk, mildly degrading language, edging. MDNI! WC: 2k

author's note: hi gamers!! if you're curious about what my gaming setup looks like, you can kinda see it on the picture i put above!! anyway... freakrina came out again. oops!

PERVERT MASTERLIST ★ RAFE MASTERLIST

you laid on your stomach, your glossy lips in a slight pout as your long nails trailed the edge of the page of the most recent issue of vogue, occasionally glancing to your boyfriend, rafe's glasses lit up by his dual monitors and his light-up keyboard, headset over his ears.

"josh, what the hell?!" your boyfriend groaned, "you're supposed to be support, just because you're playing as moira doesn't mean you can just ignore healing us." you bring one of your hands to his hairy arm, pawing at it like a puppy. "hm?" rafe moved his headset partially from his ear. "what is it babe?" he glances at you, "shut the fuck up, caleb, it's my girl." rafe groans, pressing mute and turning to you, "yeah?"

"attention..." you look up at him with puppy-dog eye, pursing your lips as adorably as possible, pawing at his arm again, an adorable smile taking over his pink lips. rafe moved his hand to cup your chin, bringing your face closer to his, your lips meeting his in a brief, gentle kiss that left some of your gloss onto his lips. he tugged a few loose strands of hair behind your ear and pressed a quick kiss on your forehead, before letting go of your chin and pulling away, causing you to let out a whine that made him let out a breath of a chuckle, "i'll play one more round and then i'm all yours, 'kay?" he asked and you rolled your eyes, letting out an exasperated "fiiine."

rafe turned back to his game, unmuting and putting headset back on properly, rolling his eyes at comments his friends were surely throwing at him and scoffing out a, "yeah, yeah, laugh it up, you're just mad cause no one would touch your gremlin asses even if they got paid.

you never really got boy logic. there you were, in his bed, wearing nothing but a short, sheer lingerie dress, and all he cared about was playing a stupid shooting game with a bunch of guys? what kind of a man would ignore their hot, clearly willing girlfriend for a bunch of guys??? no. this just wouldn't do.

you sat up, rolling your shoulders and stretching, before you stood up, walking on tiptoes on his plush carpet, until you were right behind rafe's gaming chair, bringing your hands onto his shoulders. rafe looked up briefly, a small smile on his face, until he turned back to the game.

you slid onto rafe's lap without difficulty; the boy staring up at you with wide eyes, "ray, fucking move!" you heard through rafe's headset, "yeah, fucking do something"

"shut the fuck up or i'm gonna cut all of your balls off in succession with one machete." you said into the microphone with a smile on your face, the sound of your boyfriend bursting into laughter echoing into the microphone. "got it?"

"yeah, got it..." you heard through rafe's headset, your boyfriend grinning slightly, "alright, baby, i'm gonna play now. behave." he squeezed your side, and you simply nodded, the boy oblivious to your plan.

rafe got started on his game, and you repositioned yourself slightly in his lap, making sure to press against his crotch as you did. he let out a low breath, clearing his throat slightly. you giggled quietly, continuing to wiggle slightly on his lap.

"what are you doing?" he asked quietly, and you simply looked at him with your eyes wide in feigned innocence, "i'm not doing anything." you purred, able to feel rafe starting to harden underneath you. your hands went to the waistband of his sweats, trying to tug them down, and even though rafe mumbled "not right now..." he still lifted his hips off the chair and let you tug the fabric down, a visible bulge in his briefs.

"ray, the fuck's going on?" you heard through his headset, making you grin, getting up off his lap, covering rafe's monitors. you bent down slightly, slipping your panties off. "n-nothing, hold on." rafe mumbled into the mic before muting it. you positioned your entrance over the head of his cock, both of you letting out a slight groan the moment you allowed yourself to sink down on him. you rotated slightly in his lap, so rafe could see his monitors.

you lifted his headset for a moment, a devious, enticing smile on your face as you spoke in a sultry tone, "if you win, i'll fuck you. but if you don't..." you got off his cock, making him whine as you brought your mouth to his ear, "i won't let you touch me for a month. are we clear?"

"we-we're clear..." rafe mumbled, and you smiled with feigned kindness as you positioned his erection at your entrance once again, smirking back at him and placing the headset back on his ear. "good." you moaned as you sunk down on him, rafe's eyes pressing closed and letting out a long, ragged breath. "now focus." you turn back to face the monitors, and turn the mic back on.

after taking a deep breath, rafe cleared his throat and turned back to the monitors, "alright, let's go, boys." he said gruffly, "just drop it, it was nothing, man."

as the game went on, occasionally, you wiggled yourself on his cock, making rafe let out a sharp breath before trying his best to focus back onto the game. rafe occasionally spoke into his mic, only for you to lift your hips slightly or clench your walls around his cock in a way that made his voice strained and slightly high-pitched, making your lips twist into a mischievous grin.

momentarily, rafe let go of his keyboard to bring his hand to your bare thigh, landing a smack on it that echoed around the room. "behave." he muttered, only for you to face him, lifting your hips up off him and slamming back down, making your boyfriend let out a groan he tried to muffle. you grabbed his jaw and forced him to look up at you "do not tell me what to do." you said, in a sharp tone that made his eyes widen. "focus."

he took in another deep breath before focusing back on the game, his cock twitching desperately as he was buried inside your warm walls. the screen flickered in various colors as he kept shooting his opponents, each clench of your walls making him nearly miss, but eventually, 'victory!' appeared in bold, yellow text.

"alright, guys, i'm gonna go now." rafe mumbled into his headset, closing the game along with the discord call before his friends could say a thing. he took in a sharp breath as you got off him. "get on the bed." you said, and rafe nearly tripped onto wires as he scampered off his chair and onto the bed, making you grin.

you climbed onto rafe's bed, crawling over to him with your head cocked to the side. his cock was soaked with your arousal, the sensitive tip of his cock an angry red. you bent down so you could lick a stripe on the vein on the underside of rafe's cock, twitching with sensitivity as he let out a shaky breath.

"you know..." you looked up at him with pursed lips, "i don't think it's fair that i need to compete for your attention with a game." you tsked, pushing your tits together using your forearms, the swell of your breasts showing through the sheer fabric of your lingerie dress.

"i-it wasn't..." rafe stammered out as you moved to straddle his lap, taking the base of his cock into your hand and bringing it to your entrance, but not sinking down on him, "and then you tried to tell me what to do." you shook your head, moving your hands to rest on his shoulders, "that's not how we do things, rafe." "i'm... i'm sorry..."

"are you sorry? are you really sorry?" you asked, and you could see his adam's apple bob with the force of his swallow, "ye-yes... it... it won't happen again..."

"it better not." you said in a soft, sickly-sweet tone as you started to lower yourself down on him, making him whine, "or you're never, ever going to get to feel me around you... again." you slammed down on him, making rafe let out a groan, his eyes squeezing shut, "look at me. you got it?"

"i-i got it..." he breathed out, looking at you with half-lidded eyes. you smiled sweetly at him as you lifted your hips up slightly and sank down on him once again. your manicured finger trailed down his sharp jawline, "what a good boy."

you started riding rafe, holding onto his shoulders as you moved yourself on his cock, his hips thrusting into you automatically. heavy breaths, the sound of your ass slapping against his thighs and the squelch of his cock inside your arousal-slick cunt filled the room.

"feels... feels so good..." rafe choked out, making you chuckle as you continued moving, picking up your pace, "yeah? yeah, that feels good to you?" you tutted, sliding your hand up to his neck. when you squeezed slightly, you could feel his cock twitching inside of you, causing you to clench around him, making him arch into you.

"this feels good? hm?" you moaned as you put some more pressure onto his throat, your boyfriend nodding fervently at you. "aww, you're such a little freak..." you brushed a strand of hair behind rafe's ear as you slammed your hips down on him, bringing your lips close to his ear, "who knew that my innocent little boyfriend was such a dirty pervert?" you whispered, his hips thrusting up into you.

"c-can't- can't take it..." rafe whined, making you squeeze slightly harder, your sweet voice turning steely, "you're gonna take it. you're gonna take what i give you. rafe, look at me." you said sharply, and he looked to you with a pouty expression, "if you come before i tell you to, you're not touching me for a month. understood?"

"ungggh-" rafe pressed his eyes closed before nodding, "u-understood.." "good boy." you purred, eased up your grip on his throat slightly and took hold of his wrist, slightly easing up your pace but still continuing to move, bringing rafe's hand between your legs, "touch me." you whisper, rafe beginning to draw small, lazy circles on your clit, "faster."

after a bit more coaxing, rafe's fingers found just the right pace, your head starting to feel hazy, the pressure in your lower stomach getting more and more intense, and you begun to pick up the pace of your hips once again as you rode him, small whines leaving rafe.

"p-please..." rafe whimpered almost painfully, "please, just let me come..." you rolled your hips, "it's okay, baby." you mumbled against his temple and replaced his finger on your clit with your own, rolling the sensitive, throbbing bud, "you can come..."

and almost as if you'd flipped a switch inside of him, rafe let out a noise that was between a moan and a groan of your name as you felt spurts of warm cum spill from the head of his cock, the stimulation you were giving yourself making you gasp as moments later, you followed him, clenching around his still-twitching cock as you came undone.

both of you stilled, the room quiet except for the heavy breaths you were both letting out, before you pulled away slightly, brushing a strand of rafe's sweat-slick hair behind his ear. "you did great..." you said breathily.

"yeah?" he asked with half-lidded eyes and a hopeful smile.

"yeah."

TAGLIST: @raahosh @purpleplumpudding @rafesheaven @nemesyaaa @esotericcangel @mattyskies @dollyfiles @bakugouswaif @littlelamy @izumis-salty-penis @nonietosay @my-name-is-baby @tinythebunni @cameronsbabydoll @fratbrochrisgf

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noirscript · 2 months ago

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the good wife

Pairing: Yandere!Husband x Reader Description: You don’t remember marrying Malcolm, but he remembers every version of you—and each time you try to leave, he brings you back. To be a good wife, he says, all you need to do is stay. Warning/s: Yandere | Gaslighting | Memory Manipulation | Captivity | Non-consensual Surveillance | Emotional Abuse | Obsessive Behavior | Psychological Horror Note/s: Heya! For those who have purchased Dark Roast so far, I'll be sending a better version once it's available. I can't provide the exact time, but in the future. ^^ Anyway, enjoy reading!

Masterlist | Dark Roast 50% OFF | Commission | Tip Jar | Taglist

The morning felt like any other—ordinary and mundane. You had kissed him goodbye like you always did, the scent of his cologne lingering long after the door clicked shut. His touch stayed too, warm and possessive as he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing the hollow beneath your eye, pausing there just a moment too long.

“Be good, love,” Malcolm murmured, voice low and smooth, velvet laced with iron. There was a sweetness in it. But also, a quiet command, like the smile that never quite reached his eyes.

“I will. I always am, darling,” you replied, automatic and soft. The words tasted familiar, worn from use, yet strange on your tongue. You loved him. At least… you believed you did. You had to. There was no reason not to. Not really.

He chuckled—a quiet, amused sound that always pulled a smile from you. You were trained to respond to it, like muscle memory. “I know. But still. Behave, alright?”

You nodded. “Of course. I’ll see you tonight.”

And just like that, he was gone. The silence that followed felt deeper than usual. The house swallowed him whole, leaving only you behind.

You wandered through the quiet halls, trying to shake the feeling that had started to gnaw at the back of your mind. You were often like this lately—adrift, grasping at something you couldn’t quite name. He told you it was nothing. That it was normal, considering the accident. That your memory would return in time.

Except… it hadn’t.

You couldn’t remember the day you married him. Or the way you’d met. Or why you sometimes woke up gasping in the dark, drenched in sweat, your throat raw like you’d screamed your voice away. You’d asked him once. He had smiled and kissed your forehead, whispering, “Some memories are best left buried.”

That day, the weight in your chest didn’t go away.

It was there again now, heavy and suffocating, like invisible fingers tightening around your lungs.

You wandered to the bedroom—your bedroom. Or so he said. You barely remembered how to navigate the house without thinking. But your body moved on its own. Habit. Routine. Familiarity programmed into your bones, even when your mind resisted.

The drawer in the corner of the room called to you. You didn’t mean to open it. Not at first. But your hands were already reaching for it before your thoughts caught up. The compulsion was too strong. Something inside you needed to know.

And when the drawer opened, you froze.

Photographs. Dozens. Maybe hundreds. All carefully arranged. All tucked neatly between delicate tissue paper, as if they were precious artifacts. At first, the faces didn’t register. Different hairstyles. Different expressions. Different clothes.

But the same eyes.

Your eyes.

They were all you.

Laughter frozen mid-breath. Smiles that never reached your eyes. Dresses you didn’t remember owning. Bruises you couldn’t place.

Some photos were newer. Others older. You recognized none of them, and yet they were undeniably you. A collage of versions—happy, scared, serene, desperate. But all of them shared one common trait: they were being watched. In each frame, subtly blurred in the background, a shadow lingered.

Him.

Sometimes only his hands were visible, placed possessively around your waist or brushing your hair. Other times, he was fully in frame—close, always too close—smiling with a calm, calculated gaze. The kind of smile that made your skin crawl now that you saw it from the outside.

A ribbon. A perfume bottle. A dried rose, still tied with a bow. A necklace—broken at the clasp. A fingernail. You didn’t know whether it was yours, and that uncertainty was the worst part.

And then, the flash drive. Sleek. Unmarked. Black as night.

Your hands moved like they weren’t your own. You crossed the room, plugged it in, and opened the file. A single video.

The screen flickered. Static.

And when it played, you saw a familiar face.

You.

You were strapped to a chair. No… a bed. Bare shoulders trembling, your mouth gagged, eyes wild with terror. You writhed against the restraints, muffled cries choking in your throat. You didn’t remember this. You didn’t remember this. But it was you.

Then came the voice. Soft. Steady.

His.

“You always try to leave, my love. But you never make it far.”

The camera panned slowly, almost lovingly, to reveal him sitting beside the frame. Calm. Smiling. Watching you.

“I’m not angry,” he continued. “You don’t need to remember. You don’t need to understand. You just need to stay.”

He leaned closer to the lens, his eyes dark and glinting with something sharp beneath the surface.

“I’ve loved every version of you. Every time you run, I find you. And I bring you home.”

Your blood ran cold.

“I know you don’t remember. That’s alright. I’ll remind you. Over and over, if I have to.”

The screen flickered again. Another scene. Another you. This time crying. Another version screaming. Another begging. Another… smiling.

Each version more twisted than the last. You watched as he carefully recreated scenarios—like a director obsessed with a single actress. A thousand variations of the same obsession. A thousand attempts to preserve the perfect you.

You yanked the flash drive from the port, heart hammering. Your stomach churned, bile rising in your throat. You stumbled backward—

Knock knock.

A soft, deliberate sound.

You froze.

Another knock. Louder. Measured.

Your heart leapt into your throat. You turned to close the laptop, to hide everything—but you were too slow. The door creaked open.

And there he stood.

Framed in the hallway light, still in his work clothes, tie loosened, his smile too pleasant to be real.

“Love?” he called gently. “What are you doing?”

You swallowed hard, pulse racing. “I-I was just… cleaning.”

He took a step in. Then another. The door shut behind him with a quiet click.

“You never clean in here.”

You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe.

He stopped behind you, his presence a wall of heat and silence. You felt his breath on your neck. Then his hand on your shoulder, light as a feather.

“You opened the drawer, didn’t you?”

You said nothing. But the tremble in your body gave you away.

He leaned in, lips grazing your ear.

“You always open the drawer eventually.”

Your blood turned to ice.

“How many times has it been, hmm?” he whispered. “Seven? Eight? I lose count. Each time you forget, and each time you find your way back. And I… I get to fall in love with you all over again.”

You whimpered, the sound dying in your throat. His hand stroked your hair with practiced gentleness.

“It’s okay,” he said sweetly. “We’ll start over. Again. Just like before. I’ll fix everything.”

You tried to move, but he tightened his grip. That same voice, that same gentle cadence, coiled around you like barbed wire.

“You’re mine, love. You’ve always been mine.”

And this time, you weren’t sure you’d ever escape.

TBC.

Taglist: @hopingtoclearmedschool @violetvase @zanzie @neuvilletteswife4ever @yamekocatt @mel-vaz @vind1cta @greatwitchsongsinger @delusionalricebowl

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 year ago

Note

jax is THE "obsessed with his girl when she wears sundresses or those slip nightgowns" like theres a CRIMINAL lack of fanfic around him going bark bark awooga over that shit do u agree with me

Sundress.

it’s sundress season. jax can’t keep his hands to himself.

pairing - jax teller x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. jax is a terror.

word count - 1.5/2k maybe? i’ll check later.

authors note - you’re so right. that man is not surviving sundress season.

masterlist. inbox.

You felt it as soon as he walked in.

There’s always an atmosphere between you and Jax. A tension that’s alive, crackling, buzzing with anticipation of itself.

You’ve been waiting for the honeymoon phase to wear off for years. It never has.

All evening, he’s been watching you.

Careful, concentrated blue eyes repeatedly raking over your figure. Up and down. Up and down. Up and down.

Eventually, it’s making it too hard to work. You ask one of the girls to take over the bar and stride across the space, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pulling him into the back room.

“Okay baby, I like it when you-”

“Cut it out.”

He stops in his tracks, slightly taken aback.

“Huh?”

“You heard me, Jax. Cut it the fuck out.”

He leans against the wall, cool as ever, eyes still wandering.

“Cut what out?”

“That!” you scold, smacking his chest. “The eye fucking. I’m trying to work.”

“I’m just looking at you.”

“You are not just looking at me. You look like you’re going to bend me over the bar at any given moment. Stop it.”

“I can’t help it, darlin’.”

He takes a step forward, sliding his hands across your hips and pulling you into him.

“You look so fuckin’ pretty in this dress. It’s takin’ everything in me to not rip it off you.”

You try to stand your ground, but his warm body pressing into yours is making it difficult.

“You can do whatever you want to me when we get home,” you tease, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “When we get home.”

“That a promise?”

“It is if you can cool it with the stares. You’re scaring people.”

“Good.”

He kisses you roughly, hands migrating down to palm at your ass. You moan into his mouth, arms wrapping around his neck to stay steady.

“Jax,” you hiss as you pull away. “Everyone’s gonna think we’re fucking back here. Behave.”

“I like it when you tell me to behave,” he smirks, smoothing out the skirt of your dress.

“Behave,” you repeat, tugging his hair roughly. His eyes close in bliss and for a moment, you debate just letting him have you now.

Remembering the entire reason for this conversation, you slap his cheek lightly.

“Best behaviour until the end of my shift. You hear me, Jackson?”

“Yes ma’am.”

He mock salutes you before stealing a quick kiss. Opening the door for you, he smacks your ass as you walk by, laughing when you turn around to glare at him.

“I mean it.”

“Oh I know, baby.”

To his credit, he reels it in. Slightly.

He’s still watching your every move, but with a little less intensity than before. You catch his eyes occasionally, winking as you grin. He shakes his head, beaming smile on his face telling you everything you need to know.

As the night comes to a close, people start to vacate the bar and make their way home, drunk and merry. Jax sticks around, arm slung over the back of the booth as he watches you clean.

“You two gonna be alright?”

“Yeah, Chibs, we’re good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He gives you a kiss on the cheek before leaving, as you hear his bike roar to life.

As soon as Jax has confirmation he’s gone, he’s getting up, sauntering over to where you’re wiping down the bar top.

“What’s my prize?”

“Hmm?”

You look up at him with big doe eyes and he almost melts, leaning across the wood towards you.

“What’s my prize? For behaving myself?”

“You’re insufferable,” you laugh. “You’re supposed to behave yourself.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

You shake your head and lean down to throw the rag under the sink. When you stand up, Jax is pressed against you, body warm and firm.

“Hi.”

His big hands cradle your face, rough and gun calloused.

“You look so fuckin’ pretty.”

You flush, heat rising across your chest. Jax lunges in, smashing his lips to yours and pushing you up against the bar. The lip of the wood is digging into your back as he presses you into it further, rocking his hips into yours as he kisses you.

You gasp as he bites down on your lip, so he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. He tastes like beer and cigarettes and the gum he chews because he knows you like it. You tangle your fingers into his hair, trying to plaster yourself to him.

Jax leans down and presses open mouthed kisses to your ear, your neck, your collarbones, your chest. No skin goes left untouched as you tilt your head to give him more access. He smirks at how quickly you’ve relented.

“I know you wanted this,” he murmurs against your throat. “Wanted it just as bad as me, didn’t you?”

When you don’t respond, he snakes a hand around your neck, squeezing just enough.

“Yes,” you gasp. “Yes, Jax. Please.”

He presses his lips into the junction of your shoulder as his hand slips underneath your dress. He traces you over your underwear, cupping you as he chuckles.

“Filthy girl. So fuckin’ wet.”

You drop your head forward into his chest, trying to take deep breaths so you don’t pass out.

“Can’t take my time with you like I want to,” he murmurs. “Don’t want anyone walking in and seeing you like this.”

In the blink of an eye he’s spinning you around, hand on your shoulder blades to push you down onto the bar top. He flips the skirt of your dress up, bunching it around your waist.

“Been thinkin’ about this all day. Pretty fuckin’ girl.”

Jax pulls your underwear to the side as he fumbles with his jeans, pushing them down just enough. You feel the warmth of him behind you, sliding through your wet heat with ease.

“Please,” you whine. “Don’t tease.”

“Needy baby.”

His tone is so patronising, so condescending, that on any other day you’d slap him. But in this current moment, the only thing you can thing about how is how you might die if he doesn’t fuck you soon.

“Okay, honey. I’ll give you what you want. Only because you look so fuckin’ gorgeous in this dress.”

He slides himself home as both of you groan. You rest your head on your folded arms on the bar as his hands find your hips, setting a brutal pace instantly.

His rhythm is consistent, deep thrusts reverberating through the core of you. Your knees threaten to give out as he knocks your entire body forward, his hips smacking into yours.

His mouth is running constantly, spewing filth right into your ear as he breathes down your neck.

“Prettiest fuckin’ girl I’ve ever seen. This goddamn dress. Drivin’ me insane.”

“Yeah darlin’, just like that. Fuck, baby. S’good.”

“You feel like heaven, fuck. Atta girl.”

“Good girl. Good fuckin’ girl. That’s it, there we go.”

You can’t do anything but take it, babbling nonsense right back at him. He chuckles, snaking his hand around your front to circle your clit.

His fingers are your undoing, clenching around him like a vice as your legs give out. All you can do is whine his name, all high pitched and breathy.

“Fuck, baby.”

Jax comes as soon as he feels you, groaning as he rests his head on your back. He squeezes your hips a couple of times, kissing across your skin.

You’re both revelling in your post orgasm bliss when the door flies open, hitting the wall and startling you both.

“Oh, shit. Sorry, lovebirds.”

Chibs is grinning, laughing as he looks around the booth where he was sitting. He finds his keys on the floor, holding them up as he shakes his head at the two of you.

Jax pulls out of you and buttons himself up, smoothing your dress down to preserve your decency. You hide your face in his chest as he chuckles, the sound rumbling through the both of you.

“See ya tomorrow!” the Scotsman yells as he leaves, stupid smile on his face.

“What did I tell you about behaving?”

Jax can’t help but laugh at you, pulling you in to press a kiss to your head.

“Let’s go home, pretty girl. Wanna fuck you in this dress a couple more times.”

@lauratang @ladyjbrekker @myhappyplaceofstuff

#jax teller x reader smut #jax teller x y/n #jax teller x you #jax teller smut #jax teller fluff #jax teller imagine #jax teller x reader fluff #jax teller x reader #jax teller fanfiction #jax teller x oc #sons of anarchy x you #sons of anarchy x reader smut #sons of anarchy x reader #sons of anarchy fluff

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heathermason6060 · 7 months ago

Text

Daryl Dixon x F!Reader Smut: Teasing will get you Somewhere

Gif found on Pinterest unknown credit

Warnings/Mentions: Blue balls, Dark/Rough!Daryl, sexual teasing (Daryl receiving) rough sex, spitting, choking, manhandling, biting, blood blisters, spanking, bruising, it might smell like dubcon but it's not

Summary: Reader wants to see Daryl at his breaking point, teasing and depriving him of release until he gets there.

Notes: I loved writing this so much. While trying to think of a plot for dark!Daryl I remembered this idea/prompt someone had like 5 years ago where the reader teases a guy until he cracks and just goes crazy. I think it was a fanfiction, but I looked through my bookmarks and ao3 history and couldn't find anything like this so if you know what I'm talking about please let me know!!

All you wanted from the start was to see Daryl snap. He was such an aggressive loudmouthed man, but not in the way you wanted him to be.

He'd started flirting with you to appease Merle, the man who'd instantly noticed how you swooned around Daryl. The younger Dixon didn't believe him, of course, but he approached you to avoid the harsh blows of Merle calling him a ‘belly-up pussy’ along with more distasteful slurs.

His way of “flirting” was a lot like Merles at first. Offensive, inappropriate, you know the rest. You'd been patient enough to politely explain that you weren't like the type of women that would fuck Merle after he called them a 'sweet piece of Georgian ass', and he took the hint.

Daryl was shockingly sweet after that. He was less verbal after learning vulgar compliments weren't the way to go, but it turned out alright for you in the end. He began looking after you like you were his full responsibility. Making sure you were fed first, bringing home clothes specifically for you, along with any other treats he thought you might like.

It was great, aside from him never making a move on you. He gawked like you were an alien when you started dressing for his gaze, Bobby Brooks shorts, pretty tank tops, even shaving your legs once in a while. But he never made a move.

That simply wouldn't do.

It was late one night and you'd slipped into his tent.

“The hell you doin'?” He cursed, wiping the sleep from his eyes as you zipped up the flap behind you.

“Can't sleep, Carl won't stop coughing.”

You'd been sharing a tent with Lori and Carl ever since you arrived with T-Dog. It wasn't a complete lie, Carl was coughing up a storm, sick with some chest cold, but that wasn't the reason for your lack of sleep.

“I got some earplugs.” He sat up and began shifting through his bags.

“No, it's okay. Can I crash here tonight?” You asked innocently, kicking off your casual flip flops that you saved for night time piss breaks or trips to get water.

Daryl tried hiding his surprise . The stutter in his voice gave him away. “Uh, sure, I guess. S’long as ya dun snore.”

You behaved for an impressive amount of time. Lying in silence, not moving an inch, waiting for him to loosen up before quietly shifting backwards until your back was pressed up against his chest.

His heart felt seconds away from collapsing in on itself when he felt you. He'd popped a semi when you'd taken off that big T-shirt he'd given you, and now it was bordering on a full on erection.

You waited until you felt his body relax, which took longer than you originally estimated, and then wiggled your hips.

The reaction was immediate. He sucked in a breath through his nose and made this choking sound. He grabbed your hips, only for a split second before yanking his hands away like he'd been burned.

You wiggled again, pushing back until the feeling of the outline of his dick against your ass was ingrained into your memory.

It didn't take long to wear him down, not at all. He let out a strangled groan and rocked into you, his self restraint long since thrown out the window.

And then you stopped.

He nearly gasped at the loss of friction. The feeling was so devastating that it sobered him, and his cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“Wha-” he panted. His fingers loosened their hold on your hips and twitched against the fabric of your pajama shorts. “Why'd ya stah- stop?”

“I'm sleepy.” You said plainly, pulling the thin sheet up to your shoulders in emphasis.

Daryl caught his breath behind you, struggling to make sense of it all through his confusion and disappointment. He grumbled something that sounded like it held an attitude, though sadly that was the extent of his protests.

You needed more. You needed him to tear your clothes off and ravish you like the animal you knew he was. The Daryl that feverishly humped you like his life depended on it was cute, but you needed the Daryl that he was in his daily life.

The only way you could think of was to force it out of him, even if it did torture the poor man in the process.

You kept up the innocent teasing for a while. You took a break after Merle went missing, you knew your limits and his. You weren't a total selfish piece of shit. Only when you arrived at the farm and he began talking to you again did you resume your game of “teasing Daryl until he cracks”.

“How's it look?” You gave a cheeky smile as you turned in a circle with your hands on your hips.

You'd put on the pair of green cargo shorts he'd found you. They weren't very practical, holding only four pockets, which was less than normal cargo shorts, but they were scandalous. The fabric hugged your ass tight enough to look damn near pornographic.

“Didn't realize they were that tiny. Christ.” Daryl muttered with pink cheeks. “Jus’ give ‘em ta Beth.

“Oh god. Can you imagine her face? That girl is still wearing pants in late summer. Her daddy would kill me.” You snorted and turned back to face him. “I'm keeping these bad boys. The fabric is soft. Wanna feel?”

“Already felt em when I took em.” Despite his words, he set down his knife to free up his hands.

“Give me your hand.”

The poor boy was so eager to feel you that he practically threw his hands in yours. When you placed his palms on the sides of your shorts he seemed to snap to life, dropping the nonchalant attitude to rub his thumbs over the fabric covering your hips and thighs.

You tried to keep the smug smirk off your face, and failed miserably. He was turning himself on just by touching the clothing that covered your pelvis.

Suddenly, you pulled away, feeling your heart lurch in your chest at the way his face dropped.

“Thanks again. I've been needing new shorts.”

“Yeah. Uh-huh. S'nothin.”

It went on like that for a while.

One night you climbed into his tent again with the ruse of being cold, and he didn't mention the fact it was a warm seventy degrees that night. You were wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt and panties, and made sure to make Daryl aware of this when you slid your knee over his thigh.

Nothing happened that night either, nothing other than pretending to sleep while he palmed himself through his jeans.

Another time you put on those green cargo shorts and offered to tidy up his camp, an offer he was quick to accept just so he could watch you needlessly bend over to grab random objects to place somewhere else.

Once you even made out with him. Late at night in his tent, things got hot and heavy and you straddled him, wearing the same oversized T-shirt and panties, washed since then, of course.

He was nervous at first, you could tell by the way his hands trembled on their way up your sides. You kissed him slow and sweet, nothing too extreme, not until he pushed his hot tongue against your lips.

You let him in and groaned at the enthusiasm he showed. He kissed you like you were still teenagers, up in the loft of some barn hiding away from Daddy.

“Shit.” He panted against your lips. He moved his hands down to your waist and pulled you down hard, groaning when he got that first taste of friction he so desperately craved.

“Slow down.” You breathed. Your body betrayed your words, your hips rolling down gentle and slow, just enough to feel the outline of his aching cock through your clothing.

“Why?” He muttered before pressing another kiss against your lips. “Wha's stoppin’ ya? I got condoms. Glenn's got the pill. S'fine.”

You pulled up and away from his lips. He looked so pretty beneath you all desperate like that. It still wasn't what you wanted.

“I don't know, Daryl-” Your voice choked into a whine when he moved under you, the friction momentarily rendering you speechless.

“Can't ya feel what yer doin’ to me? Huh?” He snapped his hips again, forcing out another whine. “S’all for you. C'mon now.”

“Not here Daryl.” You tried to keep your voice level and firm. “Not in some tent where we have to be quick and quiet.”

“Le’s go somewhere then. Anywhere ya want, don't care. Tell me. I'll take ya.”

Truthfully, that almost made you give in. But it still wasn't the Daryl you wanted to experience. He was desperate, but not desperate enough.

“Not tonight, Daryl. It's too late and Shane's on watch. He'll have my ass if he catches us sneaking out.”

Daryl growled in frustration, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. “Won't get caught.”

“Yeah, sure. Let's just wait another night.” You pressed a kiss against his cheek, innocent enough, contrasting painfully with the way you ground down against him one last time before sliding off.

Part of you started doubting your plan. Daryl was too reluctant, too full of self doubt, too terrified at the aspect of losing whatever fun thing you had going on by pushing your limits. Even though you had no problem pushing his.

His patience amazed you. Any other man would've thrown you to the side after the first few times, or ignored your “wishes” and dove right in. He didn't know that's what you wanted. You couldn't blame him.

How could you tell someone like Daryl “I want you to fuck me with enough desire and aggression to give a nun a heart attack”? He'd been too gentle during foreplay, too submissive, you were beginning to think he was a virgin.

Maggie gave you a dress. You didn't know who it once belonged to, her or her sister, but it was one of the cutest things you'd ever laid eyes on. A pretty moss green that went right below your knees, laces up your stomach the same color as the dress, and thankfully, no sleeves.

The domestic look had Daryl in shambles. You looked like a farm wife from a damn magazine, it took everything he had in him not to fuck you behind the barn like he wanted.

He took you out that day. On a ‘food supply run’, as he called it. You weren't anyone's first pick for runs, which you understood, you were easily distracted. It was your biggest fault.

So when he asked you specifically, and you alone, you were barely able to contain your excitement.

The first place you stopped by was an old farmers corner store to pick up enough food so you didn't come back empty handed. A few canned goods, stale snacks and three cans of soda.

He left that in the back of the truck when the two of you stopped by a house. A very nice house, to your surprise.

“Can't believe this place hasn't been trashed.” You commented while rummaging through the kitchen. “No more food, but there's some lighter fluid.”

“Hm.” Daryl grunted. After securing the front door he found you still in the kitchen, chewing on a mouthful of gum.

You'd shoved about three long sticks in your mouth. “Want some?”

He eyed the gum wrapped in silver paper before taking it from your outstretched hand with a gruff thanks.

It was hard to focus on, his heart felt like it was in his throat, it was hard to swallow, and his jaw ached from his aggressive chewing. He'd done everything you wanted, got birth control; condoms and plan B. He found this nice house that same morning, almost immediately after seeing you walk outside in that dress. He even cleaned up the master bedroom for you, dusting off the sheets and beating the pillows, opening the windows to air out the room.

There was no way you could wave him off now.

Oh, but you found a way. It was a talent that needed to be fucking studied.

You were digging through the dresser in the upstairs bedroom when he approached you. You ignored the sound of the door shutting and locking behind him, pretending to be very interested in the contents of the bottom drawer.

His hands found your sides. Your skin tingled as he pulled you to your feet and pressed you against the dresser with his palm on your lower back.

He went to kissing the back of your neck. His lips were light and soft, contrasting the anxiety bubbling in his gut.

“Hmm.” You hummed. He brushed your hair over your right shoulder and went back to kissing your neck, peppering them all the way to the point of your left shoulder.

“Missed ya'.” He muttered, pushing his hips forward to drive home his point.

You tried not to laugh with pity at the feeling. He was already hard? Poor thing.

“We're supposed to be looking for food.” You chided playfully. You shifted your ass and earned a low grunt of appreciation for the friction.

“Then why’re ya in the bedroom?” He challenged. When you didn't respond he smirked against the skin on your neck.

His hands didn't wait for permission. He bent his knees so he could grab the bottom of your dress, gathering it in his fists and pulling it up and over your ass. He sighed at the sight, you were wearing the type of panties he'd only ever seen on a clothing rack or behind a screen. Black soft fabric, tight and with lace around the hem, hugging your curves just right.

“Daryl, come on.” You chuckled, but made no attempt to move. “They're gonna wonder where we went.”

He laughed, the sound dry and humorless. “Don't give a shit. They'll survive.”

“And what is it you wanna do so bad that's more important than feeding our people, huh?” You mused, placing your palms on the dresser he was pushing you harder up against.

“Ain't my people.” He quipped and ground into you, dying to make you feel how desperate he was for you.

You choked back a moan. “You didn't answer my question.”

“Want ya. Right here.”

“Want me to what?”

Daryl sighed and released his hold on your dress to grip your waist. “Wanna fuck ya nice an’ good. Make y’feel what y’been missin’.”

You groaned. Your grip on the dresser turned white-knuckled as he pushed against you again.

“Yeah?” Your breath trembled past your open lips. “What else?”

Daryl pressed himself closer, until his mouth was right at your ear. “Wanna feel what ya’ been keepin’ from me. Taste ya'. Shove my dick in that pretty lil’ mouth n’make ya sorry.”

His words had an obvious effect on you. Your knees trembled and your breathing was louder, more shallow.

But he still hadn't cracked.

The curiosity was eating you alive. You couldn't give in now, not when he was so fucking close. You turned to face him and gave a ghost of a smile, trying your best to look sympathetic.

“Maybe some other time.”

His eyes widened and his eyebrows scrunched tightly together. His nostrils flared as his pupils darted over your face, looking frantically for the slightest sign telling him it was a joke. He looked hurt, confused, like you just slapped him in the face and called him a slur.

There it is.

“You-” he choked out, “Y’aint serious?”

You forced a nod.

“Why?” The way he raised his voice sent a bolt of pleasure through your core, and you had to fight back a whimper. “Got everythin’ ya needed. Went through the trouble’a findin’ this place, ain't gotta be quiet, ain't gotta worry ‘bout walkers or someone hearin’, the hell else you want from me woman?”

You couldn't stop yourself from whimpering. You bit your bottom lip and tried to steady your breathing, but when you stole a glance at his face and saw the expression held there your lungs shifted into overdrive.

He looked so fed up.

“What are you gonna do about it?” You whispered.

Daryl sneered in contempt. “The hell can I do ‘bout it? Not gonna beg.”

You swallowed hard. You slowly shook your head, your chest rising and falling dramatically, your body still trapped between his arms, his hands on the dresser behind you.

“Don't want you to beg.”

You pressed a hand between his legs and he let out a strangled groan, his elbows swaying as they threatened to give out. You flexed your fingers to massage his length, and pulled away.

His eyes shot open and just as quick his hand wrapped around your wrist, yanking you back to his bulge and nearly breaking your fingers in the process of shoving them down the waistband of his jeans.

After unbuckling his belt he was able to cram your hand down deeper, forcing you to feel him.

You gasped when your fingertips made contact. You didn't know a dick could get that hard. It felt just as firm as any other extremity.

“Daryl.” You let out a long sigh as you gave a half assed attempt to pull your hand out. His grip on your wrist tightened.

“Hmm?” The teasing tone of his hum made your clit throb.

“We can't-” You didn't get to finish your sentence before he scoffed and picked you up. Like actually picked you up in his arms, bridal style. He threw you on the plush bed where you bounced a few times, and dove into you.

“S’enough.” He muttered. He pulled your dress up over your waist and looped his fingers through the sides of your panties. You thought he'd hesitate, take a look at the expression on your face and back off, but he didn't. He tugged them down your legs and tossed them off the bed in a random location.

“Ain't some pussy ya’ got on a leash.” His fingers snaked between your legs, beelining for your cunt. He groaned in surprise, his eyes rolling back at the feeling. You were beyond wet at this point, his aggression had your folds like a slip n slide with lube instead of water.

You bit back a moan. His fingers spread your folds, smearing your wetness around, his thumb pressing down against your clit.

“Fuck!” You gasped. Your hips instinctively shifted to the side from the overwhelming sensation, but a firm grip on your waist quickly snatched you back.

“Think y'can do whatever the hell ya’ want, and I'll jus’ sit back an’ let ya’?” He didn't give you time to answer. He pushed a finger inside you, and both of you hissed at the feeling. “Ffuck. Shit ain't like that no more, princess.”

Any other time you would've snapped at the insult, but his finger digging around inside you had your mind blank.

“Wha’s wrong? Huh?” He twisted his finger and you cried out. His voice was sickly sweet, something that should've pissed you off but only fueled your arousal. “Got nothin' to say?” His finger curled, a movement that held no thought behind it, though the way you gasped and arched your back had him repeating the action.

Then he started mocking you. “Oh no, not now, it's not right, I'm not ready!” He scoffed in disgust. “Like ya’ a lot better when ya’aint speakin’.”

Oh, god. You should be fuming. You should be spitting venom right back at him, but this is everything you'd wanted from him. It was all going according to plan.

Maybe he knew that, or maybe he didn't. Either way he was behaving just as you'd imagined countless times, rough, mean, cruel and demanding.

“C'mon, try a little bit.” He growled after leaning down to bite at your open neck. “Go on. Tell me it ain't the time. Tell me.”

You were nothing but a puddle under him. Your hands became too restless and reached up to grab at him, balling your fists in the back of his shirt.

Never in your life had a man treated you like this. No matter how bad you teased and gave subliminal signals. They would either indulge in your teasing, respect your wishes and back off when told to, or kiss and plead until you relented.

Finally someone was fucking you like you had always wanted. Or, they were about to.

The knuckle of his thumb had been digging into your clit for a good minute now, and despite how uncomfortable it could feel at times, you came quickly.

You sucked in a sharp gasp and locked your legs around his waist, trying to pull his finger in deeper, or make his knuckle grind harder.

Daryl groaned into your neck as you came around his finger. His hips jerked forward and bumped against his hand between your thighs, knocking his digit in deeper. You yelped, not expecting such a sharp sensation during your warm and soft climax.

He withdrew his finger and you whined.

“Sh-sh-sh.” You didn't think a hush could sound so condescending. “Got somethin' better. Gonna make you regret not takin’ it sooner.”

You said it before you could stop yourself. “You don't have it in you.”

His eyes flicked up to your face as he pulled his zipper down, a look on his face that sent chills across your bare legs.

There was slight amusement, slight relief, as if someone finally gave him permission to show off and prove himself. Lips parted into a breathy smirk, tongue peeking between his teeth, and one eyebrow raised.

Your eyes dropped to his pants when he pulled his cock free. It looked just as you imagined when you'd touched it only minutes ago, standing at full attention against his lower stomach.

You let out a sigh when you saw it reached his navel.

Daryl leaned down until he was level with your pussy. You heard it before you felt it, the sound of him spitting, and then warm drool dropping right on your sensitive clit.

You squealed in protest, trying to raise yourself on your elbows, but he stopped you with a hand on your chest. With his free hand he smeared his spit over your already soaking folds, even going as far as to push some inside you with his finger.

“Ew!” You gasped.

You felt a tingle. Subtle at first, you just assumed it was the salinity of his saliva, and then more prominent. You were close to panicking until you saw the wad of white gum shoot out of his mouth, landing with a smack against the hardwood floor.

At least you knew the source of the tingling. You swallowed your own gum, the same way you'd completely forgotten about.

The skin around your cunt buzzed when he slapped the tip of his dick on your clit, and you squirmed beneath him. He steadied you with the same hand on your chest.

“Wait.” You inhaled deeply. He didn't wait though, he just pushed into your clenched hole, ignoring your whines.

“Ssss-shut up.” His voice trembled. He used his free hand to wrap around the base of his dick, holding it straight as he slowly pushed in further.

“Y-you said you had condoms.”

Daryl let out a loud groan as he sank into you. His right hand on your chest increased in pressure as more and more of his upper body weight bore down on it, forcing the air from your lungs.

He was so thick, and it had been years for you. The burn was incredible, in such a pleasurable way that you should've felt ashamed to enjoy. You tried to moan, but nothing came out aside from a strained breath.

“Ain't nothin' gonna make me feel rubber instead’a this.” He grunted. He rolled his hips forward and finally pulled his hand off your chest to roll the dress up and over your body.

“F-Fuck.” His whimper was strangled in his throat. Being completely naked under someone who was fully dressed had you clenching around him, earning another whimper from said man.

“Should feel ‘shamed, keepin' all this from me.”

You didn't. Not one bit.

“But I know ya'aint.”

You furrowed your brows, momentarily stunned by his apparent mind reading abilities. He jerked his hips forward and your face fell slack, your jaw dropping and your eyelids falling shut.

His thrusts were harsh, but far too slow for you to get anywhere. You grabbed his shirt and used it to pull him down, desperate for more stimulation.

Daryl happily obliged. His breath was hot on your ear before he took the lobe between his lips, sucking and licking the flesh. You gasped as he bit down on it, and you could sense the smirk on his lips.

“Daryl?” You breathed, the name breaking on your tongue with another thrust.

“Jesus.” He groaned, thoroughly annoyed. He released your ear and pulled back to look at you, frustration evident on his face. “What?”

“Thought I was gonna regret it.”

Your words had his upper lip twitching and his eyes widening ever so slightly.

“Yeah?” He huffed. “S'gonna be like that?”

He rose from your chest, shifting until he was sitting on his boots. His hands grabbed onto your hips and yanked you down on his dick, forcing a cry from your dry throat. It took him a few seconds to position himself, leaning back just a bit, his grip on your hips tight, and then he started fucking you in a ruthless pace.

It wasn't what you were expecting. Your mouth dropped into a long gape and your eyes shot open as he pounded his pelvis against yours, driving his dick so deep it reached places your fingers never had.

Each thrust had a gasp burning in your lungs, and those gasps quickly grew to embarrassing moans. Now that you were ashamed of. If you had the ability to stop it you could, but the way he was thrusting into you rendered you utterly unable to control yourself and the sounds you made.

“Get up.”

You weren't sure why he even spoke, because he was moving your body by himself before you could process his command. He pulled you to the side of the bed and turned you over on your stomach, bending you over and shoving his dick back inside you so fast you shrieked.

Your feet flew up behind you, smacking against the back of his thighs. If you could've seen it you would've laughed.

The new angle was paralyzing. His dick was no longer tilted against the spot under your stomach, the spot that had you a drooling mess seconds ago. Now it smashed against a deeper part of you, a part that had you groaning with each frustration fueled thrust.

“Fuck.” Daryl groaned, his pace slowing to give momentary reprieve. He wasn't as young as you, and even though he was always out there doing a hundred times more labor intensive activity, he needed a second to catch his breath.

There was still an itch yet to be scratched. While he regained his bearings you fought to think of a way to say it without actually saying ‘i want you to hurt me and fuck me till I cry’. You'd already humiliated yourself enough.

When he began picking up the pace again, you reached for the hand beside your head and bit down on his knuckles. Not gently, either. You bit down so hard he could've ripped a tooth out with the way he yanked his hand away.

“The fuck?” His voice was barely below a shout. “Ya’ crazy bitch!”

There was no retaliation besides a particularly forceful thrust, to your irritation.

“You baby.” You managed to grunt out. “Barely bit you.”

“Barley bi-” he scoffed, looking down at the hand he now had splayed across your lower back. There were deep pink imprints from your teeth over his index finger knuckle, and the skin around it turned a bright red.

You felt his fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling your hand away from its grip on the bed sheets. Your heart hammered quicker than his thrusts when his breath tickled your skin, and then he bit you. In the same spot you bit him.

It wasn't nearly as hard as you bit him, but you still whimpered at the ache.

“Point stands.”

Daryl couldn't believe what he was hearing. His jaw set and he dropped your wrist.

The smug smirk you'd been keeping to yourself fell when your hair was suddenly twisted in the fist of his right hand. With just that leverage alone he pulled your upper body up, and his left arm snaked around your torso to keep you flush against his chest.

He yanked your head to the side. You gasped.

“This what ya’ wanted, huh sweetheart?” He breathed against your ear and drew back until his dick nearly slipped out before slamming back in.

“Mmm-oh god yes.” You blurted out between moans.

“Jus' had to ask.” He managed a chuckle.

“More.”

He furrowed his brows, but kept up the slow and deep pace. He couldn't imagine what else he could give you. He was fucking you hard enough to bruise, he was pulling your hair, what, did you want him to start beating you?

He dipped his head down to bite your shoulder, holding back just enough so that he wouldn't give you an actual wound.

You have to consider that biting someone with enough force to actually break the skin takes a lot. Skin isn't like the flesh of a fruit. It's tough, and would require chewing to break through. So for him to stop right before that point meant he was biting you so hard you got blood blisters, and the pain was all you could focus on.

Your wail of genuine pain had him pulling back like he'd been shocked. His thrusts slowed, and through ragged breaths he spoke, “Shit, m'sorry. M'so sorry.”

“No.” You gasped. Your shoulder felt like it was on fire, and your walls cleaned around him in response. “So good. Feels so good.”

Daryl let out a huff in relief. “Ya’ weird as shit, yanno that?”

“Mhmm.” You groaned, pressing your ass back tightly against him. “More.”

He took a deep breath to steady himself and pushed you back down on your stomach. He had to work himself up to it, the idea intimidating. Once his thrusts were back to their former sharp pace he raised a hand in the air.

You tilted your head to the side so your cheek was pressed against the blanket. When you saw his right hand held up, your heart leapt. You never nodded so quickly.

Daryl ground his teeth together, glancing down at your ass, your face, and back to your ass again before smacking his hand against it.

It was barely a love tap.

You groaned, wiggling your hips and earning a moan from him in response to the feeling on his dick.

He took the hint and gave another smack, harder, but still not giving that burn or satisfying ‘smack’ sound you wanted.

“Daryl, please.” You whimpered. “Hurt me. I'm not made of glass.”

You barely got the last word out before he slapped you. Open handed, fingers spread and slightly curved to mold perfectly against your asscheek. You yelped and instinctively tried scooting up the bed, held back by his left hand on your hip.

It clicked in his head then. No wonder people liked spanking so much. His palm tingled and he could see a faint handprint start to color your skin. And the way you reacted, that sound you made, your body trying to get away from him, it made his dick twitch.

“Fuck!” You cried out after another hard slap. The pain fully distracted you from the ache in your shoulder, white hot pain spreading across your ass and up your spine.

“Such a baby.” He meant it to sound patronizing, but he was still too amazed by the new turn on he'd discovered, and the words came out breathless.

Your whimper bled into another cry as he spanked you again.

And again.

Again, again, until you were on the verge of tears, sobs bubbling from your wet lips as you tried to squirm away from him.

As if you actually wanted to. Which you clearly didn't. You were practically gushing around his dick.

He rubbed his palm over the deep red skin, barely soothing the blinding burn he'd left behind. “Goddamn.”

“M'gonna cum.” You were literally drooling.

He snapped his attention away from your ass and back to you. “Whaddya want, huh?” He quickened his pace once again, jolting forward to press his body against your back. You whimpered at the way he moved, his dick pushing deeper inside you.

“More, please,” you stuttered, trying desperately to work your hand under your body, which proved to be difficult due to his weight on top of you.

Daryl noticed and lifted your hips with his hands. He shoved your eager arm out of the way and rubbed your clit with his own fingers, fast and deep in a way he assumed you'd like.

You moaned under him, arching your back, feeling him slip in further. It was as if he grew another inch every five minutes. Or you grew another inch deeper, and he was staying the same. Either way he was deeper, and it felt immaculate.

The rise to your climax was slow, but powerful. You were fully prepared to gently tip over the edge and slide down in bliss.

That was before he slapped your pussy. Then you fell down gasping.

Daryl held onto your body like you were a wild mustang, trashing and twisting under him in ecstasy. He withdrew his hand and grabbed your hips again, resuming his brutal pace, clamping his teeth down on the back of your neck to keep your bodies anchored together.

It took a while for you to come down from your high. When you did it was violent, the pure bliss smashed away by burning overstimulation.

“Fu-uck!” You heaved in deep breaths. “Daryl s’too much, can't, wait!”

“Ever since that night ya’ came in my tent, blue ballin’ me like that,” he growled against your neck, “-been dreamin’ ‘bout havin ya’ like this. Fallin’ apart. Face full’a tears. Ain't stoppin now.”

He wasn't bluffing. He didn't stop. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, ramming into your abused cunt, only slowing to shift in positions so you were on your back.

The air felt amazing against your chest. Daryl ripped that feeling away with gnashing teeth, biting your hard nipples and alternating between sucking and pinching.

The house had to be surrounded by walkers by now. There was no way it wasn't, you were crying and moaning like you were getting paid for it.

“Oh, god.” You wailed as another orgasm built up quicker than ever inside you. “Oh please, fuck, god!”

A jolt of pleasure shot through your core when Daryl's hands wrapped around your throat.

Now, Daryl was no stranger to strangling someone. He'd choked plenty of people out before.

In fights.

He was unaware there was a different type of choking for pleasure. Instead of squeezing the sides of your throat with his thumb and fingers, he wrapped both hands around your neck and fucking strangled you.

You squeezed your eyes shut so tight they ached as you came. Your orgasm had started off blinding, overwhelming every inch of your body, but Daryl's crushing grip soon muted the tail end of your climax and filled your ears with a deafening ringing.

Daryl pulled his teeth off your nipple and panted against your ear. “Lemme cum inside ya’, sweetheart.”

You could barely process what he'd said. You forced your eyes open against the pressure induced burn, trying to find his face, only to see the side of his head.

“Can't pull out.” He growled and released some of the pressure around your throat. Oxygen and blood flooded your head, leaving you dizzy and with black around the edges of your vision.

“Can't, m'sorry. Oh, huh- fuck!” His voice was strained as every muscle in his body tensed up. His hips surged forward, stuffing his dick balls deep to coat the end of your walls in his cum. “Mmm-fuck s’good. So good. Ohhh, Hah-”

He choked on his moan. He moved his head, replacing his hands around your neck with his mouth, kissing and biting at the tender skin as he spurted ropes of hot cum inside you.

Your body broiled under his crushing form. Your thighs relaxed from their clamped position, falling off his waist and dropping to the bed beneath you. Your lungs ached and your throat was raw, but your pussy buzzed so intently it felt like you had a vibrator pressed against it.

“Oh, god.” The tone was full of dread and you forced yourself to focus on Daryl.

“What?” You croaked. There was a stabbing pain in your neck from Daryl choking you out like you were a man his size.

“Yer all fucked up.” He whined. He traced his fingers across your throat. “S’bad. Oh fuck.”

“Calm down.” You sat upright after he pulled back enough for you to do so, his dick dragging out against your trembling walls in the process and making you hiss.

“It's okay. I'll just tell em a walker got the jump on me. We've all seen them grab throats. It's fine.” You pressed a kiss to his worried lips.

“Gonna tell em a walker did that too?” He pointed an exhausted finger at the bite mark on your shoulder, which was now in the early stages of a deep bruise, not to mention the blood blister in the shape of his teeth.

You laughed softly. “Fuck no. I'll just skip the tank tops for a week or two.”

That seemed to settle him enough and he nodded, moving to lay on his back.

“That was amazing.” You broke the long silence. “Seriously. You're the first man to ever… you know.”

Daryl furrowed his eyebrows and looked up at you. “Huh? Y’never…?”

“No! I mean…” you sighed. “Never had a man make me come.”

Now he was at full attention, sitting upright and leaning back on his palms. “Nah, no shit.”

“I'm serious.”

He let out a light scoff, shaking his head in disbelief. “Jesus.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he watched you climb off the bed to grab your thrown panties. “Me too.”

You glanced over your shoulder as you stepped into them. “Really? You never…?”

He nodded, going back to biting his cheek.

“How'd you last so fucking long?”

A cocky grin crept across his lips at the compliment behind your words. He was worried he didn't last long enough. And you just asked him how he held on so long.

“Jerked off like, ten fuckin’ times today.”

That meant he knew he was going to fuck you today. Heat spread through your core again, despite how worn out you were. You smiled and climbed back on the bed to smother him with kisses.

“You're so fucking hot.” You mumbled against his lips, which were moving weakly against your own.

“Says the bitch that wouldn't fuck me.” He chuckled.

“Just wanted you to make the decision for me. It's a lot hotter that way.” You hummed, pulling your swollen lips away from his. “It worked.”

“Psh.” He rolled his eyes and began stuffing his soft cock back in his jeans. “Put yer clothes on. Place is probably crawlin' with walkers. Le’s get the hell outta dodge before anymore show up.”

Now that Daryl was in on your little game, you couldn't wait to play again.

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @my1fx @jinx-nanami

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alternate-real-ities · 22 days ago

Text

Subject IND1

This document reports the events that transpired during a controlled study conducted on [REDACTED], who consented to participate in our trial, to document the physiological, cognitive, and behavioural changes in a human subject infected with a new strain of the Asian Flu, here denominated by the acronym IND.

To help recording the results, Dr. Kenji Nakamura, the lead researcher, recorded his observations throughout the experiment.

The subject was a young caucasian male, with a lean build and average height. He was selected for the trial due to his good health and lack of pre-existing conditions. The experiment was conducted in a secure laboratory environment, with all necessary precautions taken to ensure the safety of the subject and the research team. Below you will find the transcription of his observations.

Audio transcriptions:

[Recording begins]

[00:00:06 Nakamura] : "This is Dr. Kenji Nakamura, lead researcher on the Asian Flu IND strain project. Subject IND1 is now secured to the examination table. The strain has been already administered. Initial observations indicate a rapid increase in body temperature and heart rate. Subject appears agitated, but this is expected given the nature of the virus."

[00:00:25 Security] : "Dr. Nakamura, are you sure this is safe? Those restraints don't seem that sturdy."

[00:00:33 Nakamura] : "Yes, yes… I understand your concerns. But this is a controlled environment, and we have taken all necessary precautions. The subject is well behaved, in good health, and I will be closely monitoring his vitals."

[00:00:47 Security] : "Alright doc, if you need anything, just call us. We'll be awaiting further orders."

[00:00:54 Nakamura] : "Thank you."

[Door closes]

[00:01:02 Nakamura] : "I will now begin the examination. Subject IND1, can you hear me?"

[00:01:07 Subject IND1] : "Y-yes… I can hear you…"

[00:01:10 Nakamura] : "Good. I need you to remain calm. I will be monitoring your vitals closely. Please describe any sensations you are experiencing."

[00:01:18 Subject IND1] : "I… I feel hot… really hot… and my heart is racing…"

[00:01:23 Nakamura] : "That is expected. The virus is designed to increase metabolic activity. I will now take your temperature."

[00:01:30 Nakamura] : "Temperature is elevated to 39.5°C. Heart rate is 120 bpm. Subject's skin appears to be slightly flushed, and there is a noticeable increase in perspiration. I will continue the recording when the subject's condition changes."

[Recording stops]

[Recording resumes]

[00:49:52 Nakamura] : "The subject appears to be more calm now. Heart rate has stabilized at 110 bpm. There is a slight increase in body hair on the chest and belly. Moreover, it appears that the subject's hair is darkening slightly. The perspiration still continues, but the subject seems to be more comfortable than before. I will now take a blood sample for analysis."

[00:50:10 Subject IND1] : "Doc… my head… I think I have a fever..."

[00:50:19 Nakamura] : "That's a common symptom with the flu. Do you feel anything else?"

[00:50:25 Subject IND1] : "I don't know how to explain it but… my chest feels tingly… and it's like there are invisible hands rubbing it."

[00:50:33 Nakamura] : "Invisible hands? That is interesting. I will note that down. Please continue to describe any sensations you are experiencing."

[00:50:42 Subject IND1] : "I feel… sick…"

[00:50:45 Nakamura] : "Do not worry, the mortality rate of this virus is less than 1%. I will keep monitoring your vitals from a distance. Thank you for your cooperation."

[Recording stops]

[Recording resumes]

[01:34:17 Nakamura] : "This is Dr. Nakamura again. About 45 minutes have passed since the last recording. The subject's skin tone has deepened to a light tan. There is a noticeable increase in body hair on the arms, legs, and face, which has darkened slightly."

[Muffled sounds]

[01:34:41 Nakamura] : "Subject IND1, can you hear me? Please try to focus."

[Muffled sounds]

[01:35:00 Nakamura] : "Hmm... the subject's pupils are dilated. He appears to be mumbling incoherently in his native tongue. Subject IND1, are you there?"

[Muffled sounds]

[01:35:17 Nakamura] : "It seems that the subject doesn't seem to be able to respond at this time. I can observe involuntary muscle fibers twitching. It also seems that his musculature is becoming more defined, his facial features seem more masculine than what they were an hour ago... I will continue to monitor his condition."

[Recording stops]

[Recording resumes]

[02:15:43 Nakamura] : "Nakamura here. The subject's skin has darkened to a warm brown hue. There is a significant increase in muscle mass, particularly in the chest and arms. Facial features are changing further than before, with a more pronounced jawline and cheekbones. The subject appears to have developped stronger facial hair in the last 30 minutes."

[02:16:08 Subject IND1] : "Doc… I... why am I here again?"

[02:16:19 Nakamura] : "You are participating in a study, Subject IND1. Please try to focus. Can you describe any sensa-"

[Loud moan]

[02:16:32 Nakamura] : "Oh my... the subject appears to be experiencing a heightened state of arousal. This could be proof that the virus affects the hypothalamus. I can feel a strong odor emanating from him. It is quite intoxicating."

[02:16:50 Subject IND1] : "Doc… get me out of here…"

[02:16:56 Nakamura] : "I will do that as soon as I can. Please try to remain calm."

[02:17:05 Subject IND1] : "Fuck… my lul…cock… it feels heavier…"

[02:17:14 Nakamura] : "The subject appears to be developping an accent. Sentences are shorter. Abdominal muscles seem to be defined into an almost clear six-pack, covered by his growing body hair. Will report back later."

[Recording stops]

[Recording begins]

[03:12:37 Nakamura] : "This is Dr. Nakamura, and I'm afraid I've lost track of the time. The subject's transformation appears to be complete. His skin has deepened to a rich ebony hue, and his features are distinctly Indian. He now possesses a broader nose, fuller lips, high cheekbones. A totally different masculine version of what he used to look like 3 hours ago."

[03:13:02 Subject IND1] : "Doctor…"

[03:13:06 Nakamura] : "Yes? What is it?"

[03:13:10 Subject IND1] : "Doctor… I need… I need you."

[03:13:19 Nakamura] : "It appears that the subject is feeling infactuated. This is likely the virus attempting to spread itself through intimate contact. His smell is stronger than before. There is a chance that his body started producing pheromones to attract other males. I can feel something only from his odor. I must remain focused on my work."

[03:13:52 Nakamura] : "I will now take a blood sample for analysis. How are you feeling, Subject IND1?"

[03:14:00 Subject IND1] : "I feel… good… bhai…

[03:14:05 Nakamura] : "The subject's speech incorporates Hindi words, interesting... There's an increased mass in the pectoral region, evident from closer inspection, covered by a thick layer of shiny sweat. This is trully a marvelous specimen to behold...

How did you get out of the restrain-"

[Struggling sounds]

[03:14:29 Subject IND1] : "Yes bro, take my smell…"

[Muffled screams]

[03:14:45 Subject IND1] : "You like my pits, don't you? I smell so good…"

[Recording cuts out]

The audio recording stops at this point.

[CLASSIFIED INFORMATION]

The rest of this document contains classified information. The information transmitted is intended only for the person or entity to which it is addressed and may contain confidential and/or priviledged material. Any review, retransmission, dissemination or other use of, or taking of any action in reliance upon this information by persons or entities other than the intended recipient is prohibited. If you received this message in error, please contact the sender and delete the material from all computers.

A security camera in the lab was able to capture the events that followed. The footage shows Subject IND1 breaking free from the restraints and approaching Dr. Nakamura, who appears to be in shock.

Dr. Nakamura's pleas were cut off as the transformed subject grabbed him roughly, holding him in his pits. The subject's powerful, muscular body pressed against Nakamura's, his broad chest leaving the doctor drenched in his sweat. We believe that a strong, musky aroma emanated from Subject IND1, based on our current data.

"Shh, just relax bhai," Subject IND1 purred in a deep, accented rumble. His large, calloused hands made quick work of the doctor's pants, yanking them down to his ankles and exposing his pale skin. "We're just 2 bros having some fun together… nothing wrong with that heh?

Subject IND1 hooked his thumbs into Nakamura's underwear and pulled them down, revealing the doctor's most intimate places. Nakamura whimpered, face flushed with unwanted arousal as the subject's thick, hard cock grinded against his ass cheeks, leaving sticky trails of pre-cum on his skin.

"Arre yaar, look at this tight little lund," Subject IND1 growled appreciatively. He then spat crudely into his palm, slicking up his massive, veiny shaft before notching the swollen head against Nakamura's quivering, virgin hole. With one brutal, deep thrust of his powerful hips, he buried himself balls-deep in the doctor's ass.

"AAAHHHNNN!" Nakamura screamed at the sudden intrusion, fingers scrabbling uselessly against the metal table as Subject IND1 began to move. The room filled with the obscene slap of flesh on flesh and the heady, musky scent of their coupling. Beads of sweat rolled down Nakamura's brow as his body struggled to adapt to the relentless pounding.

Then, suddenly, Subject IND1 grabbed Nakamura's hips and flipped him over onto his back. "Ride me, bhai," he commanded with a wicked grin, pulling the doctor on top of him. "Take what you need."

Nakamura gasped as he found himself straddling the subject's thick thighs, that massive cock spearing up into his guts. His own dick bobbed lewdly between them, drooling pre-cum onto Subject IND1's abs. As if in a trance, Nakamura began to move, hips rolling and bouncing on the subject's lap.

"Yes, just like that," Subject IND1 groaned, hands gripping Nakamura's waist hard enough to bruise as he thrust up to meet each downward grind. "Fuck yourself on my big Indian cock, bhai. Take your pleasure!"

Subject IND1's cock seemed to grow even larger inside Nakamura's stretched hole, veins pulsing as it pumped the doctor full of its virile, Indian essence. Nakamura could feel it, hot, thick and alive, changing him from within. His own dick throbbed almost painfully between his legs, swelling a bit, the head flaring and darkening like Subject IND1's.

Nakamura could only moan brokenly in response, eyes rolling back as he felt something powerful rising up inside him. His skin began to flush a deeper, richer brown, muscles swelling and hardening beneath the surface. Dark, coarse body hair started to sprout along his arms and legs, thickening with each passing second.

"FUCK!" Subject IND1 roared in Hindi, slamming up into Nakamura one last time as he exploded inside the doctor's ass. Nakamura screamed as the wave of transformation crashed over him, back arching like a bow as his skin deepened to a richer, ebony hue. His muscles swelled into hard, defined slabs, abdominals popping out in a perfect six-pack that glistened with sweat.

The musky scent of their coupling intensified, filling Nakamura's nostrils and clouding his mind with lust. Body hair continued to sprout across his chest and back, curling slightly as it darkened to a deep, glossy black. His nipples hardened into small, sensitive nubs.

Then, Subject IND1 gripped Nakamura's hips tighter, fingers sinking into the firm flesh as he began to thrust again, fucking the doctor throughout his transformation. Each stroke sent jolts of pleasure through Nakamura's body.

Nakamura's dick pulsed and twitched between them, growing longer and thicker with each passing second. The shaft thickened, veins and ridges forming along the surface as it darkened to a deep, ruddy brown. His balls swelled and tightened, churning with backed-up cum.

The room filled with the sounds of their grunts and moans. Nakamura could feel his mind changing too, thoughts shifting to the need to rut, to breed, to dominate… The doctor threw his head back and moaned. His skin rippled and shifted, the last traces of his old self melting away as he embraced his new identity - an Indian stud, strong and virile.

As the transformation reached its peak, Nakamura's dick erupted like a geyser, painting their chests with thick ropes of hot, sticky cum. His body shuddered and clenched around Subject IND1's cock, milking it for every last drop of his Indian seed.

Finally, panting harshly, Subject IND1 pulled out with a wet squelch, his softening dick slipping free of Nakamura's gaping hole. A flood of pearly white cum poured out in its wake.

Nakamura lay there for a long moment, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. When he opened his eyes again, they were dark and almond-shaped. He sat up slowly, muscles rippling beneath smooth, ebony skin, and turned to face Subject IND1. "भाई, मुझे बहुत अच्छा लग रहा है" - says the newly improved doctor. He flexed an arm, watching the bicep swell into a perfect, round dome.

He turned to Subject IND1, eyes glinting with a newfound purpose. "I need to get out of here, bro…" he growled in a thick Indian accent. Then, with only his lab coat, Nakamura got out of the facility thanks to his keycard, while IND1 lay there spent on the floor.

It wasn't until hours later, when Dr. Nakamura still hadn't reported back, that security was alerted something was wrong. They found Subject IND1 alone in the lab, a satisfied smirk on his face as they led him away in cuffs.

But by then, it was too late. The IND strain had breached containment, in [REDACTED], were it could spread rapidly. We are still trying to find Dr. Nakamura, but we fear it may be too late for him as well. Subject IND1 is still in our custody, so that we can study this new strain of the virus. We will continue to monitor the situation and report any further findings.

[End Report]

#male transformation #muscle tf #muscle transformation #musclegrowth #race change #asianization #hair growth #indianization

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yungistiny · 1 month ago

Text

heat wave

[ J. Yunho ]

╚═════════

summary: in which your brother’s best friend helps you during your heat

warning: alpha dom yunho, sub omega reader, unprotected sex, claiming, biting, scenting, early heat, mating, knotting, slight breeding kink, semi public sex

genre: romance, smut

pairing: alpha yunho x omega afab reader

word count: 3.8k

note: this was requested anonymously but thank you for it because I enjoyed writing this too much 🤭

masterlist

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The car ride was already too warm, even with the AC blasting and the ocean air drifting in through cracked windows.

You sat in the backseat, legs curled beneath you, tank top sticking to your lower back from sweat. The music was low, some playlist Yeosang had made for the summer, and your half brother San was in the passenger seat up front, arm out the window like he owned the world.

Yunho was driving.

And you were trying not to squirm.

It had started that morning, the slow, low pulse in your core, the sudden heat flushing through your skin. You’d brushed it off as nerves, maybe excitement. You hadn’t seen the boys in a while with being at college.

But now, in the tight space of the car, between the weight of Yunho’s scent and the increasing slick dampening your shorts, you knew better.

Your heat was coming.

Too early. You’d miscalculated. You always had a few more days after the headaches started. But now? Your thighs were slick. Your pulse was rapid. And Yunho kept glancing at you through the rearview mirror like he already knew.

You pressed your knees tighter together, willing your body to behave, heart pounding.

San was oblivious, chewing sunflower seeds and tossing the shells into a paper cup. He didn’t notice the way you kept shifting, or how you’d rolled the window down further to get his scent out.

Yunho’s scent.

It was worse than you remembered. Stronger. Musky and warm like sandalwood and fire. It coiled around you in the car like a thick rope, subtle but unmistakably Alpha.

He cleared his throat once. Twice. “You alright, Y/N?”

His voice was deeper than usual. Too casual. But his eyes lingered when they flicked back in the mirror.

“Y…. Yeah.” You tried to smile, but your voice came out too soft, too breathy. You saw it hit him immediately. Yunho’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. His jaw clenched, and he didn’t look in the mirror again after that.

By the time you arrived at the beach house, the sky had turned a pale, hazy gold. The house sat at the edge of the dunes, a long wrap around deck, high windows, and the sound of waves just beyond the trees.

It should’ve felt like paradise.

Instead, you were burning.

You pretended to help carry bags but ducked into the hallway bathroom the moment you could. You turned on the fan, pressed a cold towel to your neck, and bit back the whimper clawing its way up your throat.

Your body was drenched.

Your scent, sweet, thick omega arousal, was impossible to hide now. You knew it. And so did Yunho.

When you slipped out of the bathroom a few minutes later, you walked straight into him in the hallway.

“Sorry!” You froze. His arm had come out instinctively to steady you. Your body screamed at you to lean into him, let him scent you, touch you, fill you.

But you pulled away, too fast.

His nostrils flared. His pupils were dark.

“You should’ve told someone.” His voice was rougher now. Low, quiet, but laced with Alpha command. “It’s early. You’re in pre heat, aren’t you?”

You couldn’t speak.

He looked down at you, his hand still halfway raised like he wanted to touch you. His scent was rolling off him in heavy waves now, desire barely restrained.

“I’m fine,” you whispered. “I’ll lock my door tonight.”

His jaw ticked. “That won’t help if you’re loud.”

You swallowed. “I’ll be quiet.”

He took a slow step closer. You didn’t move. “If you need help,” he hesitated for a second. “I’m here.”

You didn’t trust your voice anymore. You just looked up at him, eyes wide, body humming.

And you knew.

If you asked, he’d come to you.

Your brother’s best friend. The same one you’ve had a crush on forever.

“Pizza is here!” San’s voice rang throughout the house. You and Yunho practically jumped away from each other, making your way to the living room where Yeosang carried in three boxes of pizza.

You almost ate an entire pizza by yourself, the boys not saying anything. You were desperate to distract yourself from the constant ache of your heat, ignoring the way Yunho would glance at you, eyes dark, as if he were drinking you in.

“I’m gonna go to bed.” You jumped up, hands shaking, San arched a brow at you. “You ok?”

“Fine.” You answered too quickly, brushing him off. “Just tired, long car ride.”

You could feel Yunho’s gaze burning a hole in your back as you left to your room.

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You tried to wait it out.

Tried to stay in your room, quiet, curled in your sheets, fingers buried between your thighs and biting your pillow until you cried.

But it wasn’t enough. It never was.

You needed him.

If you need help, I’m here

You slipped down the hall barefoot in the dark, the moonlight pooling over the wood floors. His scent led you, spicy, electric, magnetic. His door was slightly open. You didn’t knock.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed, shirtless, sweat clinging to his chest, one hand running through his hair like he was fighting a war in his head.

He looked up when you peeked inside.

“I can’t….” you gasped, feeling embarrassed. What if he wasn’t serious? What if he just meant to help you in a different way all together? “Yunho, it hurts.”

He stared at you for a long moment before standing up. “You’re so fucking lucky your brother is passed out downstairs.”

Then he was on you.

Mouth crashing to yours, hands already dragging your tank top up and over your head. You moaned as he shoved your shorts down, fingers grazing your slick.

“So fucking wet already…. god, you smell like mine.”

You whined at that, shuddering. Any coherent thought long gone the second he kissed you.

“You want to be bred, omega?” he growled, the alpha in him taking complete control. “Want me to knot you so deep you won’t be able to get out of bed?”

“Yes…. please, Alpha, I need it…”

He grabbed your thighs, tossed you onto the bed, and spread your legs. His tongue was on you before you could catch your breath, long, deep strokes through your folds, drinking your slick like he was starving.

Your hands clawed at the sheets. “Yunho…. please…. I can’t….” Every touch, every sensation was so much. You’d never had sex during heat before. Never been knotted before.

He growled into your cunt, the vibrations making you jerk. “Say it.”

“Yours….. I’m yours!”

He stood, yanked his boxers off, and climbed over you. His dick slapped against you, thick, flushed, and already leaking. You sobbed at the sight.

“Gonna fill you up, baby. Gonna make you feel so good.”

When he pushed in, you screamed in pure bliss, shaking, shuddering at the stretch.

It was too much.

Too wide. Too deep. But your body welcomed it, greedy, slick walls clenching around him like it knew him already.

He fucked you slow at first. Long, deep strokes that made your toes curl, his hips grinding into your ass. His mouth stayed on your neck, teeth teasing your gland, breath hot.

But it wasn’t enough.

“Faster… Yunho…. more… please…”

He growled and flipped you over, pulling your hips up so your knees barely touched the bed. Then he slammed in again, over and over, fast, brutal, perfect.

You sobbed into the pillows as your orgasm slammed through you, your body locking up, your cunt milking him.

“Good girl…. such a good little omega… taking your Alpha so well.”

You felt the swell of his knot beginning, stretching you more with each thrust. “Gonna knot you now, baby,” he groaned. “Gonna fuck it in and keep you full.”

You screamed when it locked, the thick bulb stretching you wide as he came, hot and endless, deep inside you.

You were trembling, body pulsing around him, stuck together now. His knot throbbed inside you, his arms tight around your waist as he kissed your spine, murmuring. “You did so good. So fucking pretty when you come. You’re mine now. You know that, right?”

You nodded, tears of relief slipping down your cheeks. “I’m yours.”

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The morning light felt too bright.

You barely managed to wash up and throw on a pair of cotton shorts and an oversized tee, Yunho’s, you realized. It still smelled like him, and the second you slipped it over your flushed skin, your body gave a needy shiver.

Your thighs still ached from the night before. Your skin tingled from where his teeth had marked just beside your scent gland.

But you were still in heat.

The ache hadn’t gone away, just dulled slightly under the weight of Yunho’s knot and his scent and the way he curled around you all night like he was afraid you’d disappear.

You didn’t expect to be woken up by San pounding on the door.

“Wake up! Hike day! The trail’s only shaded until noon!”

You froze. Yunho, still tangled up with you, still inside you, his knot now soft, muttered a curse and pressed his face into your neck.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he growled.

“We don’t have to….”

“He’ll get suspicious if we don’t show. Just… stay close to me.”

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You couldn’t meet Yeosang’s eyes as you climbed into the back of the Jeep with him. He looked a little too knowing. San, of course, was all energy and excitement, water bottles, snacks, an old bandana tied around his head like a scout leader.

Yunho walked behind you the entire time, his hand grazing the small of your back whenever you stumbled, his body an ever present shadow.

Your scent was lighter now, masked with suppressing spray you found in the bottom of your bag and layers of sunscreen. But the way his pupils stayed dilated? The way his jaw clenched every time the wind shifted your scent toward him?

You knew the heat was still affecting you both.

And you knew something was going to snap.

You barely made it halfway up the trail before you started feeling it again.

The ache. The pulse. The slow slick build between your thighs that made your steps shorter and your skin hotter.

Yunho noticed first.

He leaned in under the guise of tightening your backpack strap, his lips brushing your ear. “Can’t wait any longer? You need it again, don’t you?”

You nodded helplessly.

He glanced up the trail, where San and Yeosang were arguing over whether to take the right or left fork. Then he grabbed your hand. “Come with me.”

You didn’t hesitate.

He didn’t even wait until you were fully hidden in the trees. Just far enough that their voices were gone, the air thick with pine and earth, your scent already blooming again, syrupy and sweet.

Yunho pressed you against the nearest tree, mouth crashing to yours, tongue deep and possessive, hands under your shirt like he couldn’t bear the distance of clothing.

“You’re soaking through these shorts,” he growled against your lips. “Your heat’s calling to me like a fucking siren.”

“Need you…. Alpha…. please..”

“You’re gonna take my knot right here, baby? Out in the woods where anyone could find us?”

You whimpered, head tipped back. “Yes… need you inside…”

He didn’t need to hear more.

He ripped your shorts down, barely giving you time to brace before he spun you around and bent you forward against the tree trunk. His hand snaked under your belly, lifting your hips just right.

And then he pushed in.

Your body welcomed him, slick and open and already spasming. His dick slid home with a loud, wet sound, both of you gasping at the sudden stretch.

“Fuck… so tight, so perfect…”

He started moving instantly, hips snapping into yours with sharp, possessive thrusts. His hand stayed around your waist, keeping you anchored as he drove deeper and deeper, the knot beginning to swell again.

Birds scattered from the trees from how loud you were, your moans echoing through the woods.

“You gonna come for me again?” he hissed. “You gonna milk my dick like you did last night?”

“Please… please, I’m so close”

He slammed in deeper, rutting like the heat had taken him over. One hand came up to your throat, pulling you back against his chest.

“You’re mine, omega. My scent’s all over you. My knot’s been in you all night. Say it.”

“Yours… Yours, Yunho… Alpha, I’m yours!”

That was it.

He bit down on your neck again, still not your scent gland, but enough to bruise, and with a broken growl, he came, knot locking tight inside you as his dick pulsed with hot, endless release.

You shattered around him.

Body twitching, cunt clenching tight, your vision going white as you sagged against the tree and let him hold you there.

After a few moments, he carefully guided you down to the soft moss, his arms still wrapped around you as he whispered praise into your ear. “So good for me. My pretty little omega. Always gonna take care of you.”

You leaned your head back on his shoulder, still panting, still trembling.

“San’s gonna kill you if he finds out.” Maybe not.

Yunho chuckled against your temple, breath warm. “Let him try.”

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The sun had sunk into the horizon hours ago, bleeding gold and fire into the sea before giving way to a blanket of stars. The breeze was cooler now, ruffling through the gauzy curtains that framed the open patio doors.

San was at the grill, flipping shrimp with a beer in one hand, his bandana crooked on his forehead. Yeosang was on his second glass of wine, legs kicked up on the railing, pretending not to be watching everything.

And you were sitting at the table, trying to act normal.

But Yunho’s thigh was pressed against yours.

And your core was still aching.

You were on edge, high strung, over aware, heat rattled. The ache hadn’t faded, if anything, it had deepened after the second time. Your scent was mostly masked, and you’d spent the last hour pressed against a cold glass of water in a vain attempt to cool down.

Yunho wasn’t faring much better. His voice was hoarse from hiking. His neck was flushed, hair damp from a shower, and his eyes flicked to you every few minutes like he couldn’t stop himself.

San sat down with the last plate of food and grinned like a man proud of himself.

“God, today was perfect. We’re doing the long trail tomorrow. Maybe the one with the cliffs, oh!” He pointed his fork at the two of you. “Where the hell did you two disappear to today?”

Your heart stopped and you went still mid bite.

Yunho, to his credit, didn’t flinch. He reached for his drink slowly. “She twisted her ankle a little,” he said smoothly. “We doubled back the lower trail. Took it slow.”

You nodded quickly, mouth full. “Yeah. It was nothing.”

San squinted. “Seriously? You okay? Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” Ever the protective brother.

“I’m fine.” You waved a hand, barely forcing a smile. “Didn’t wanna make a big deal.”

It might’ve worked. It almost worked.

If Yeosang hadn’t snorted into his wine.

You turned slowly. Yunho stiffened beside you.

Yeosang didn’t look at you. He just swirled his wine and stared at the liquid like it had wronged him.

“What?” San asked, confused.

Yeosang looked up, eyes lazy. “Nothing.”

San blinked. “You laughed.”

Yeosang tilted his head. “Did I?”

Yunho’s fingers were clenched around his glass so tightly you were afraid it might shatter.

Yeosang didn’t even bother pretending to not enjoy it.

“I just think it’s funny,” he said, slow and casual, “that someone who twisted their ankle still managed to scream loud enough to wake me up at three in the morning last night.”

The entire table went still.

Yunho swore under his breath. You choked.

San frowned. “Wait…. what?”

Yeosang leaned back, the picture of calm. “Walls are thin. And I’m a light sleeper. Really light. Especially when someone’s… y’know. Trying to claim someone’s sister.”

You dropped your fork.

San stared. “Wait. Who…. wait, what?”

Yeosang smiled. “You’re the only omega in the house, Y/N.”

You wanted to die.

Yunho reached for your hand under the table, protective, subtle, and you let him take it.

San looked between the three of you. “Wait, wait. Someone explain. What the fuck is going on right now?”

Yeosang took a sip of wine. “Ask your best friend.”

There was a long pause of silence. San looking back and forth between you and Yunho.

I’m not mad,” He finally spoke. “I’m just… disturbed.” He really could have went the rest of his life without knowing his best friend….. knotted his sister.

You and Yunho both sighed in relief and sat on the deck like kids caught sneaking out. You’d expected yelling. Rage. A storm. But San just kept poking at his empty dinner plate like he was mourning the loss of his innocence.

“You’re my best friend,” he said to Yunho, making a face. “And you’re my sister. So that means this is… like… double disgusting.”

“Technically we’re half siblings,” you mumbled, trying to lighten the mood.

“Not helping.”

Yunho winced. “Look, San…”

“Don’t.” San waved him off, shuddering dramatically. “If you say one word about her, I’m throwing myself into the ocean.”

You squeaked in horror. Yunho turned beet red.

Yeosang, still sipping wine behind you both, gave a slow, satisfied clap. “Honestly, I’m proud of how this all came out. A little traumatic, but narratively satisfying.”

By the time the house had quieted, it was past midnight.

The stars were sharp above you, a spray of silver scattered across the velvet sky. The ocean was a low hum beyond the dunes, and the full moon hung huge and watchful overhead. The breeze was cool on your flushed skin as you padded barefoot across the deck.

Yunho was waiting by the edge of the stairs.

He held out his hand without a word.

The sand was cool and damp beneath your feet. The moonlight painted the waves silver, glinting off the white foam as they rolled in slow and steady. You walked in silence for a long while, hand in hand, your heart thudding with something more than heat.

When he spoke, it was soft. Barely above the hush of the sea. “I almost didn’t come to the beach house this summer.”

You looked up at him, surprised. “Why?”

“Because I knew this would happen.” He stopped walking, turning to you. “I knew if I saw you again….. I’d finally give in.”

His voice shook at the end. The wind caught it and carried it away.

You swallowed hard, throat aching.

Then he pulled you into him.

The kiss was different this time. Not wild or frenzied, but deep. Full of everything he hadn’t said. His lips were warm, his hands gentle as they cupped your jaw. You melted into it, your fingers gripping his shirt like it anchored you to the moment.

When you pulled apart, his forehead pressed to yours. His breath was trembling.

“Let me do it right this time.”

You nodded, breathless. “Please.”

He guided you down slowly, taking his shirt off, laying it out onto the sand before lowering you onto it. The waves whispered nearby. The moon watched. The world shrank to just you and him.

He undressed you slowly.

No rush, no panic, just reverence. Each inch of skin he bared, he kissed. Your throat. Your collarbone. The valley between your breasts. Your hips, where his fingers brushed over the curves.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, eyes heavy lidded. “You always have been.”

You reached for him, fingers trailing up his chest, his lean muscles gleaming under the moonlight. You couldn’t stop touching him. His chest. His arms. The strong lines of his torso. He trembled under your hands like you had magic in your fingers.

When he finally slid between your thighs, you were already slick and throbbing.

But he didn’t rush.

He cupped your face as he pressed inside you, inch by inch, watching every expression, waiting for your gasp, that breathy moan that told him he was home. You arched beneath him, hands fisting in the shirt beneath you.

“Yunho…”

“I know, baby. I know. I’ve got you.”

His pace was slow at first. Deep, rolling thrusts that made you whimper and cling to him. The stretch was delicious. The pressure perfect. Every thrust was laced with devotion, like he was memorizing how your body opened for him, welcomed him in.

His forehead rested against yours. His lips brushed your cheeks, your nose, your chin.

“I love you,” he whispered, breath catching. “I’ve loved you since we were teenagers and you asked me to teach you how to drive.”

You kissed him, moaning into his mouth as he rocked into you harder now. The rhythm built slowly, steadily, like the tide coming in. Your legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into the backs of his thighs as you urged him deeper.

“Yunho… need you… want all of you…”

“You have me,” he growled, the edge of his control fraying. “You have me.”

His hand slid between your bodies, thumb finding your clit. You shattered, eyes rolling back, body clenching so hard around him he nearly lost it. You sobbed his name, a broken, “I love you too,” as your orgasm pulsed through you, your body arching into his.

He buried himself deep, thrusting hard now, chasing his own release.

“I’m gonna knot you, baby. Gonna fill you so good. Wanna claim you under this moon… make it forever…”

“Yes… yes, please… do it!”

The knot began to swell, thickening inside you, stretching you wide again. You moaned as your body took it, your hands gripping his shoulders, your mouth on his jaw.

He bit you. His teeth sank into your scent gland, the claiming bite deep and final, binding you to him. You cried out as it sent another orgasm slamming through you, cunt fluttering around his knot as he groaned your name into your throat.

He came hard.

Hot, endless release flooding you, locked inside by the knot, your bodies fused under the full moon, claimed in every sense of the word.

You stayed like that, tangled together, breathless, trembling, as the waves rolled in the distance and the sky slowly shifted above you.

His fingers brushed your cheek. “You’re mine.”

“I always was.”

He kissed you again, long and slow.

And the world was nothing but you, him, and the ocean singing to the moon.

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permanent tag list: @straycat420 @autieofthevalley @dejatiny @hannahlilibet411 @xh01bri @jintastic-yuyu @maddycline @ultrapinkvoidbouquet @wooyoungsbrat @lucid-galaxys-world @ecriggs1990 @straytiny127 @sannies-tiddies @hannahstacos

#did this while delirious on nyquil and still sick with the flu 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭#yunho #jeong yunho #yunho smut #yunho x you #yunho x reader #ateez #ateez fic #ateez fanfic

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hellobykittys · 6 months ago

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𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ✦ 𝐋𝐍⁴

SUMMARY: Your boyfriend just returned from a Triple Header, and after weeks apart, all you wanted was some attention and affection. But he, on the other hand, seemed more interested in his online games than spending time with you. NOTES: English is not my first language, so there might be some writing mistakes. I apologize for that, and feel free to point out any improvements. PAIRING: Lando Norris x Reader! Girlfriend. WARNING: cockwarming and explicit scenes. WC: 0.9k

MASTERLIST | THE (IM)PERFECT PLAN SERIE

It had been weeks since you and Lando had a decent moment together. Between the chaos of a Triple Header and endless traveling, he was finally back home after more than three weeks away. You'd spent days envisioning this reunion: a cozy couch, a romantic movie, maybe a few glasses of wine, and, hopefully, something… more intimate.

But, of course, Lando had other plans—plans that involved a computer, headphones, and loud laughter with Max during a gaming livestream. He was sunk into his gaming chair, fully absorbed, while you were sprawled out on the living room couch, pretending to care about some random TV show.

Not that you wanted to be that girlfriend who complained about her boyfriend’s hobbies. You knew gaming was Lando’s way of unwinding, something he genuinely enjoyed. But… would it kill him to give you a little attention after you’d spent weeks counting down the days until he got back? You had spent a few hours together earlier in the day, but apparently, for him, that was more than enough. For you? Not even close.

Taking a deep breath, you decided it was time to do something about it.

You got up from the couch and walked into the kitchen. Opening the fridge to grab a can of soda, you could still hear Lando and Max’s laughter echoing through the house. They were debating something about “that camper guy in the middle of the map”—whatever that meant. You rolled your eyes with a small smile. Men.

Back in the living room, you stopped at the doorway to Lando’s gaming setup.

“Babe?” you called out sweetly, hoping that would be enough to get his attention.

Nothing. He raised a hand in a “one-minute” gesture without even glancing away from the screen.

Okay. So he wasn’t going to make this easy.

You climbed onto Lando’s lap, sitting face-to-face with him, wrapping your arms loosely around his waist. It was the perfect position—not just to be close but also to stir up a little mischief.

“Lando, I missed you…” you murmured, drawing out the words as you shifted ever so slightly on his lap. The movement seemed innocent enough, but both of you knew it wasn’t.

He took one hand off the keyboard and placed it firmly on your waist, halting your motions.

“I missed you too, love,” he replied, trying to keep his focus on the screen. “But please, stay still, alright?”

“Okay!” you chirped with mock obedience, which he clearly picked up on but chose to ignore.

You managed to behave… for about three minutes. Then, you started shifting again, sliding gently against him, testing his patience.

“Y/N…” His tone was firm, though you caught the trace of amusement at the end. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to move you.”

“But I just want to spend time with you, please!” you pouted playfully, resting your head on his shoulder and inhaling his familiar, comforting scent.

Lando sighed deeply, as if gathering every ounce of his self-control.

“Then behave,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, though still laced with warning.

Of course, you ignored him. You leaned in closer, leaving a trail of kisses down his neck while continuing your teasing movements, this time more deliberately.

“Y/N…” he started, but his voice sounded different now—lower, drawn out, almost like a groan. “What are you trying to do?”

You smiled against his skin, thrilled by how easily you could make him unravel.

“Nothing… I’m just enjoying my boyfriend, who I missed so much,” you replied with a playful edge, feigning innocence while keeping up your game.

Lando shut his eyes briefly, clearly trying not to lose control.

“You’re impossible, you know that?” he said, finally abandoning the keyboard and turning all his attention to you.

His hands slid to your waist, and in one swift move, he lifted your skirt and pushed your underwear to the side. When his fingers brushed against your heat, he immediately noticed the state you were in.

“So desperate already, huh?” he asked with a smirk. “Three weeks apart, and you turn into a needy little thing.”

“Lan,” you whimpered, his name slipping out like a plea. “I need you.”

“I’ll let you have a little fun,” he said, his tone almost mocking. “But only if you behave and don’t move.” He began lowering his shorts and boxers, freeing himself. “When I’m done with this game, I promise you’ll get all the attention you’re craving. Got it?”

“Okay, I promise I’ll stay still,” you breathed out, far too needy to argue.

Lando positioned himself at your entrance, easing into you slowly. The moment he was fully inside, you couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped your lips.

“Now you’re going to have to stay quiet,” he instructed, his voice firm as his eyes flicked back to the screen. “I’m hopping back on with the guys.”

You nodded, too full of him to form a coherent reply.

“Sorry, guys,” Lando said into the mic, sounding casual despite the situation. “Y/N just needed some help with something.”

And so the match went on, with you obediently staying still for once, too desperate for the attention he promised to risk disobeying.

#f1 #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #formula one #lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #ꮺ ۪ ࣪ i'm just ɑ girl ⋆𐙚

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docrobinavitch · 2 months ago

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say goodbye like you mean it | pt. one

dr. robby x f!charge nurse!oc content: 18+ mdni, swearing, vague age gap (oc mid to late thirties) words: 4.5k PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR synopsis: dana is serious about leaving, at least for a while. her replacement is bright eyed, bushy tailed, and determined to impress robby and robby is less than thrilled... but can't help but be impressed. as well as a little infatuated. a/n: this is my first fic for the pitt! idk how many parts this will be yet, but pls let me know your thoughts

“And there’s nothing I can do to convince you that this is a mistake?” Dr. Robby was looking at Dana with the softest, pleading eyes he could muster.

But Dana only smiled and shook her head, “Would you give the kid a chance first? It’s only a trial and I’ll be here the first few days and train her, alright? I vetted her myself. She was charge nurse in her own ER in Manhattan. During Covid.” She added for emphasis.

“Huh, no shit.” Robby rubbed at his beard, “How old is she?”

Dana shrugged, “I’m not sure, somewhere in her thirties?”

Just then, the doors of the ER opened and the new charge nurse walked in, securing her hair with a claw clip as she walked toward the hub.

“Here she comes,” Dana said and elbowed Robby in the side, “Be nice, please.”

“Sweetheart!” Dana said as she approached and a smile lit up her face. “Welcome, thank you for coming in.”

“Of course,” She said, looking around the already chaotic ER, “I’m eager to get my hands dirty.”

“There will be no shortage of that, I can assure you.” Robby interjected.

Finally, her eyes fell on him and her smile widened, “You must be Dr. Robby. Dana told me all about you. It’s nice to put a face to the name,” She held out a hand, “Gwen Keating.”

He took her outstretched hand in his, “Good to meet you too. Though, I don’t envy you, you have big shoes to fill,” He dropped her hand, “I’m still trying to convince Dana to stay.”

Dana glared at Robby, “I told you to behave.”

“Gwen” Robby continued, ignoring Dana, “Dana tells me you were charge nurse at a hospital in Manhattan during the pandemic. Which one?”

Her face falls marginally, “New York Presbyterian.” She says softly.

The words hit him in the chest, “My God,” He shakes his head, “You guys were basically ground zero. We learned how to use one ventilator to treat two patients from you.”

Gwen looks down at her hands which he notices are now pulling at cuticles around her nail bed, “Yeah.” She says eventually, “It was a fucking nightmare and we adapted as quickly as we could.” Then she winces, “Sorry. Shouldn’t curse on my first day.”

“Don’t sweat it, kid,” Dana said, putting an arm around her shoulders, “The pandemic was a motherfucker for all of us.”

She gives Dana a sad smile and leans into her embrace.

Robby hates that Dana is leaving. Hates it so much, in fact, he had thought about putting in his two weeks several times. But each time he had faltered. And now Gwen was here, by all accounts looking like a goddamn angel, and he thought maybe everything would be okay after all.

Robby and Dana give her the grand tour, introducing her to everyone. She’s quick to learn names and she takes diligent notes. Though she’s a trained nurse and not a doctor, Robby learns quickly that being charge nurse during covid had many doctors giving her a lot of leeway.

“We were constantly short staffed with doctors and nurses getting sick,” She shrugged, “It wasn’t uncommon for a doctor to be on speaker phone, sick at home, walking me through an intubation or a chest tube. But don’t worry,” Gwen said quickly at the look of alarm on Robby’s face, “That part of my life is over. Thankfully.”

Before he can comment, a lower abdominal GSW is rolling in and the three of them are immediately gloving up, following the gurney into trauma three.

Robby calls for Collins and Whitaker who trailed behind.

Giving the case to Collins, his eyes focus on Gwen as she reads vitals, jumps in when needed, and delegates tasks to other nurses with ease as things get more tricky. She has tools and meds ready before Collins can even ask, already anticipating how she would want to treat.

When the patient is stable and headed to an OR, Gwen degloves and walkd back over to Robby, looking a bit smug.

“So, did I pass?” She asks. Dana is grinning at Robby from behind her back.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She smirks, “So you weren’t evaluating me?”

“The person you should be trying to impress is Dana, not me.”

She scoffs, “Please. Dana is already impressed. I know it’s your approval I need to work here.”

He turns his attention from Collins to Gwen, eyes rolling carefully over her face. He is impressed. Thoroughly. But he doesn’t want her to know that yet.

“Have you ever thought about going to med school?”

“Oh, bite your tongue!” Dana snaps, “We need more nurses, not doctors.”

She laughs, and turns back to Robby, “I did, yeah. Before covid.” Again, he notices the way her face falls just slightly at the recollection of the pandemic, “But I decided I like it better in the background. As charge nurse, especially, I like all the admin work. I love working with patients, but I love taking care of my nurses and doctors more, I think. Is that awful?”

Robby’s shaking his head, “No. That’s exactly what we need from a charge nurse. A mother hen, right Dana?”

Dana had her arms around Gwen’s shoulders again as she laughed, “Isn’t she just the best?”

Robby rolled his eyes and began to walk away, “You haven’t passed yet.” He called over his shoulder.

“What?”

“We’ll see if you survive to the end of the shift.”

She laughed, “I do love a challenge.”

“Good,” Robby called back, “Because I’m very difficult to impress.”

Mateo was standing next to Dana at the hub, both of them intently watching Gwen and Robby, “I gotta hand it to you, Dana,” Mateo said as he took a bite of a sandwich from the patient bin, “You’re good. Not only have you given Robby a perfect replacement, you’re also getting him laid.”

Mateo offered Dana a fist, which Dana bumped while smiling, “Robby should be kissing my feet in thanks.”

The rest of the shift flew by with little incident. Things ran smoothly with Gwen behind the wheel. She had questions for Dana every now and then, but she was a fast learner and by the fourth hour, Dana hardly needed to do anything. She had Dana’s respect, and so she had the nurses’ respect as well. The doctors? Well, they looked to Robby first and he hadn’t yet decided how he felt about her. Though, it was clear the two of them worked well together almost immediately. And it was very clear that they had become a team when the reports of ICE being in the area started rolling in.

“What are you hearing?” Robby walked up to the hub, a bunch of nurses were around the desk, around Gwen, their phones out and scrolling.

“Reports of ICE vans in the area,” She said, looking at her own phone, “Rumors they plan to stop here.”

Robby nodded, “What do you want to do?”

Both Gwen and Dana’s eyes snapped to Robby in surprise, “You’re asking me?” She said slowly.

“Yeah. Surely you went through this sort of thing in New York. What’s the protocol?”

She stared at him for only a moment before she jumped into action, “Nurses, everyone is on a patient until I say otherwise. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure ICE does not get in here, but if they do, being in a hospital means these people are protected by the law. If it comes to it, make sure the patients know that. They do not have to speak to the officers without a lawyer. They do not have to leave with ICE unless they have a warrant signed by a judge. If that is the case, I will confirm the legitimacy of the warrant.

We do not leave a single patient unattended until we’re sure no one is coming. I know there are more patients than there are nurses, assign yourselves no more than three patients that you can cycle through every thirty seconds. No one unattended more than thirty seconds, unless a medical emergency dictates otherwise. I trust you all to make sure every patient is covered, make sure you’re communicating with each other. Doctors, if you notice a patient doesn’t have a nurse, let me know and I will assign them one. You can explain to the patients why you’re there if you like, but do not pressure anyone to reveal their citizenship status to you. It’s better we don’t know anyway. Is Ahmad around?”

“Present.” Ahmad strolls up to the hub, hands on his belt.

“Can security make sure every entrance to the ER has at least one man watching it? If ICE shows up, do not let them in, call me. I will come out to meet them.”

Ahmad looked to Robby who nodded, and then looked back to Gwen, “Roger,” he said and headed for the ambulance bay.

“Any questions?” She asked the medical professionals that encircled her, but she’s met with only silence.

“Alright everyone, you’ve got your marching orders,” Robby said, “Back to work.”

While a nurse caught Gwen in conversation, Robby watched her and Dana sidled up to him, “You know, the sky won’t fall if you admit you like her.”

Robby just glared at her before heading in the direction of Whitaker, who was flagging him down to a patient’s bed.

It was true, he was really starting to warm to Gwen. Sure, it had only been half a shift, but things in the ED moved quickly and everyone worked in close quarters which meant he didn’t need long at all to get a sense of someone. And she was the real deal, that much was clear.

It was only thirty minutes before Ahmad was paging Gwen that ICE was in the ambulance bay.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

She spun to see Robby just behind her. She had gotten used to his proximity in the first half of the shift, in fact, she was beginning to find his constant presence comforting.

“Only if you want to,” She said slowly, “Well… Yes, actually, if you don’t mind. I find they respond better to male authority figures.”

“Okay,” He started following her towards the exit, “But you take lead?”

She nods, “Of course. Thank you.”

“Officers, I’m the charge nurse here, this is Dr. Robinavitch, our senior physician. How can we help you?”

There were three men in street clothes, the tallest one in front stepped forward, “We have a warrant for a patient here, we need to be allowed inside to take them.”

“Okay, I need to see some ID and the warrant before I can let you inside.”

“We have a warrant. Let us inside now and we’ll be out of your hair.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I cannot let you inside without seeing the warrant myself first as well as some ID.”

The man made a big show of huffing and puffing before retrieving a warrant from his pocket. Gwen was conscious of Robby just behind her, shifting his weight from foot to foot. She let her shoulders drop remembering he was there. She had just met him, but felt already that she could trust him to have her back. It had been a long time since she had had that sort of rapport with a colleague, let alone a superior.

He handed the paper over and before she had time to read it, was already trying to shove past her.

“Excuse me—!” She scoffed and tried to shove him back, “Ahmad?”

Ahmad was immediately there, shoving the man back. “I gave you the warrant, let’s go!” The man snarled.

Gwen glared and took her time unfolding the piece of paper he gave her and scanning it. It took her only a moment to recognize it wasn’t a proper warrant, “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t let you in with this. Please come back when you have a warrant signed by a judge.”

She turned to leave, ignoring the man’s calls behind her. She doesn’t see what happens next, but very quickly, Robby has put himself between her and the ICE officer.

“You touch my nurse.” He said lowly, dangerously, “And we’re going to have bigger issues. If you want access to our department, you need a warrant signed by a judge, that is the law. Not a piece of paper signed by one of your own. Until then, get off the property or we call the police.”

“Hey man,” The officer backed off almost immediately, “We don’t want any trouble.”

Gwen rolls her eyes and walks away, thoroughly annoyed, “Asshole.” She mumbles under her breath.

Soon, Robby is jogging to her side, “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” She says, “Did he lunge at me?”

He hesitates, “Yes, but Ahmad and I wouldn’t have let him touch you.”

She almost smirks, “Are you worried I’m going to get scared and bolt?”

“What?” He says quickly, too quickly, “No. No.” He said firmly, “Just making sure you’re okay.”

“Well, Dr. Robby, it’ll take a lot more than a disgruntled ICE officer to get me out of your ER.”

He smiles at her, for the first time, and it sends a flutter to her chest. He had such kind, warm eyes.

“I’ll just have to try harder then, I guess.”

She smirked as they both walked back into central, “Come on, don’t you know a lost cause when you see one?”

He smiles, but grows serious again, “Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks quietly, “If you need a break or anything, I would encourage you to do so.”

Gwen shakes her head, “I’m sure you know the rate of assault on nurses?” He nodded, looking down at the ground, “Believe me when I say I’ve had much worse than an attempted hair pull. But I appreciate your concern, truly. It’s… not common in my experience for doctors to treat their nurses with the attention and care you do. To treat the nurses as equals. It doesn’t go unnoticed.” She squeezed his arm and headed back to the hub, announcing to everyone to resume care as normal.

“So,” Robby didn’t hear Collins until she was already next to him, “The new Dana’s pretty badass, don’t you think?”

“Don’t call her that.”

Collins smirked and followed after Robby when he tried to walk away, “Come on, Robby. We’ve all been watching you flirt all shift. Just admit that you like her.”

He sits at his workspace and puts his glasses on, “Did Dana put you up to this?”

“She didn’t have to. It’s more and more obvious by the second.”

Robby sighed and rubbed at his eyes, “Don’t you have patients?”

Collins rolled her eyes, but walked away without another word. In her absence, Robby’s eyes seemed naturally drawn to Gwen. The phone was pressed to her ear, but with the chaos of the ER, he couldn’t hear who she was talking to or what she was saying. While on the phone, she directed some nurses and respiratory therapists looking for patients and supplies. It was uncanny to him how fast she came up to speed, but he supposed spending years in Manhattan would do that. Maybe his ER was a cake walk to her.

Beyond his fascination with Gwen’s professional capabilities, he would be lying if he said he didn’t find her unnervingly attractive. He knew Abbott would be egging him on if he were here, practically begging him to ask her out. If you don’t, I will. He could hear him say. And he couldn’t allow that. He would ask her out for a beer later, he decided. It wasn’t like him to move this fast, to acknowledge his feelings so quickly. More than likely she had someone waiting at home for her anyway. She would let him down gently, professionally, and then he could put this ridiculous pining behind him before it had a chance to really take root. It was genius, really.

Just three hours of the shift left before he could put it to rest.

***

7:17 PM

“Well.” Gwen was standing in front of Robby as he was finishing up charting, hands clasped behind her back and rocking on her heels like a little kid. He had been watching her, so he knew she had already done her rounds with the night shift charge nurse. She had sent Dana home an hour early, insisting she could handle it solo. Dana had given Robby the I told you so look before leaving.

“Well, what?” He asked, not looking up from his chart.

“Are you impressed? Did I pass?”

He took a deep breath before meeting her eyes. She was flushed and sweating a little from the exertion of the shift. Strands of hair had freed themselves from her claw clip and either stuck to her face or hung loosely around it. Robby thought he might be more attracted to her now than he was a few hours ago.

“You did good, but it’s a long way before I’m impressed.”

She shrugged, “That’s fine, I’m very patient.”

He smiled and rubbed at his beard, “Would you… want to grab a beer with me?”

She blinked, raising her eyebrows in surprise. Here we go, Robby thought to himself and braced himself for the rejection.

“I thought you didn’t like me.”

He frowned, “I never said that.”

Gwen’s eyes narrow as she scrutinizes him and he feels himself beginning to sweat under the weight of her gaze. He wanted her to get it over with, to rip the bandaid, to say no so he could go home and drink alone in front of the TV.

But she didn’t do that.

“Yeah, okay.” She said finally.

“Y-Yeah?” He asked, mostly to confirm that he had heard correctly, “No… significant other or family waiting for you at home?”

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes, “Nope. You?”

He couldn’t believe it. How was it that she was all alone? “Not a soul.”

“Ok, well, I’ll meet you in the ambulance bay in five?”

He nodded, still feeling a bit in shock, “Yeah, sure.”

When she walked away, he watched her hips sway and knew he was in deep shit.

There was a familiar whistle and then a hand on his shoulder, “Nobody told me Dana’s replacement was hot.”

Robby shrugged off Dr. Abbott’s hand, “Have some respect, brother. She worked the ER during the pandemic in Manhattan.”

“The early days?” Robby nodded and Abbott let out another low whistle, “No shit?”

Robby sighed, beginning to log out of the computer after finishing his final chart, “That’s what I said. But her work today proves it, for sure. She’s a pro.”

“Why come work at the Pitt, then? She could probably have her pick of any hospital with the nurse shortage.”

“No idea. Hoping to find out now, I’m taking her out for a drink.”

“No shit!” Abbott said again, clapping him on the back, “Don’t let me keep you then, go get her Robby.”

***

The bar two blocks away from the hospital was quiet. It was a Tuesday, after all. The lighting was warm and soft and Gwen and Robby had sought shelter in a corner booth in the back.

They were sitting close enough that just a small movement would have their legs pushed together. Gwen tried not to notice, but over the 12 hour shift, she was beginning to wonder how anyone in the ER stopped themselves from having a huge massive crush on the grumpy attending with the kind eyes. She, certainly, was failing miserably.

“So, Dr. Robby, how long have you been at the Pitt?” She asked as she sipped her beer.

He sighed heavily, “I’ve lost track. probably about a decade, at least.”

“And you love it?”

His eyebrows furrow and he gives her a strange look, “That’s an odd question. Do any of us really love it?”

She laughs, “Probably the interns or med students. The way I see it, it’s like an addiction. When you’re fresh and new, nothing can beat the high of an ER shift. And then as the years pass, you keep coming back looking for that same high. And there are good moments. You save someone’s kid, or parent, or friend, or partner. But it never hits quite the same as it did the first time.” She takes a long swig of her beer, “But we still come back each shift, hoping it’ll be the shift that makes us feel the same way it did in the beginning.”

She turns her head back to Robby, “Is it like that for you, too?”

He nods slowly, watching her with awe, “Something like that, yeah.”

Silence falls between the two of them for a few moments, but it’s a comfortable one. Gwen doesn’t notice how Robby has moved marginally closer to her. They’re still not touching, but there’s only a hairsbreadth of space between them.

“Why’d you leave New York?” Robby asked finally.

Gwen chews on the inside of her cheek, peeling at the label on her beer bottle. The glass is cold and wet and the glue from the label comes off with ease.

“Um,” She said finally, “It was hard to be in the same place as I was during covid. The memories, the flashbacks. I needed a change, is all.”

Robby nods, but he thinks she’s not telling him the whole truth, “There was an almost two year gap on your resume, from 2023 to now.”

Her head snaps to him and now he knows for certain she’s definitely hiding something, “I didn’t know you saw my resume.”

“I asked Dana for it halfway through the shift, out of curiosity.”

She turns back to her beer bottle, “Does the gap concern you?”

He shook his head, “No. You obviously know what you’re doing in an ER. I just wonder why someone as talented as you would want a job at the Pitt.”

Gwen’s quiet for a few moments, “I’m from Pittsburgh. My parents live nearby, I wanted to be closer to them.”

It’s a half truth, and they both know it.

“And the gap?”

She sighs, “Look, it’s not… It’s not something that affects my work, I’m just not comfortable talking about it right now. If that’s okay?”

Robby wants to know everything there is to know about her. But he understands the hesitancy. Who was he to push her to divulge personal information when he has trouble opening up to people he’d known for years? But he would get it out of her eventually.

“Yeah,” He says after a moment, “I understand.”

They talked for a while after about anything and everything. Her parents, his parents. Jake. What types of music she listened to (she loved 90s indie rock, like the Cranberries and Smashing Pumpkins) to how their families celebrated the holidays when they were young. They even delved into religion, discovering that though they both had been raised in organized religion (her, Catholicism; him, Judaism) neither of them believed in God anymore.

“It’s funny, though.” Gwen said, after she finished off her second beer, “During the pandemic I was so desperate for guidance I once found myself wandering into a church after a shift. I sat in a pew and cried for over an hour, repeating prayers I knew under my breath.”

“Did it help?”

She shrugged, “I felt better for a couple of days after. But nothing really changed.”

He nodded, “I do something similar, even now. When I feel at the end of my rope. I think it is… meditative in a way.”

Gwen nods, “Yeah. That’s exactly it.”

They stared at each other, the mutual understanding intoxicating.

But there was still so much they didn’t know.

Gwen cleared her throat, breaking eye contact first, “I should probably be getting home.”

“Sure,” Robby said, trying to hide his disappointment, “Me too.”

They walked in step until the cool night air hit them. Gwen was so lost in her own thoughts, she didn’t notice the uneven sidewalk until her sneaker caught it and she went flying.

Luckily, Robby’s reflexes were sharp and he reached out immediately to catch her, pulling her to his chest, “Woah,” He laughed, “Didn’t take you for a lightweight.”

“Shit,” Gwen swore, her hands flat against his chest, “I’m sorry.”

She started to move away, but his arms were solid, keeping her secured against him, “No need.” Their eyes locked again and he felt that pull to her that had been nagging at him all day, “Am I crazy,” He said softly, “if I tell you how badly I want to kiss you right now?”

Gwen’s eyes darted down to his mouth and she swallowed, “No.”

Robby lowered his head slowly, painfully slowly, as if he was afraid of scaring her off. Gwen had said earlier that she was patient, but not that patient. She rose on her toes until their lips met. She felt his gasp of surprise, but then he was reacting. One hand on her waist, another cupping her neck as he kissed her hard and slow.

Gwen hadn’t been kissed in something like two years, and she couldn’t remember the last time she had been kissed like this, if she ever had. Robby kissed like there was no one else in the world, but them. He kissed as if he wasn’t quite sure that the sun would rise the next morning. He kissed as if the ocean threatened to swallow them whole. It was all consuming and it made her head spin.

The kiss became hungrier and Robby sucked her lower lip into his mouth, biting the flesh gently. She sighed into his mouth, but the longer the kiss went on, the louder the alarm bells in her head began to ring.

She broke the kiss, gently pulling away, “Sorry,” She said breathlessly, a hand on his chest, “I, um, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Robby frowned at her, “If you’re worried about the job, don’t. You don’t report to me, you report to the Nursing Director—“

“It’s not that.” She said quickly, “And it’s not you, either. I…” She trails off and then meets his eyes again, “I haven’t dated or done something like this in a long time. I’m not sure that I’m ready. I’m… I’m sorry, I thought I was, but—“

“It’s okay.” He said quickly, putting his hands over hers that were still against his chest, “You don’t have to explain. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Gwen wanted to stay here. She had the overwhelming feeling that once she stopped touching him, she wouldn’t be able to touch him again. But he was stepping away already, dropping her arms and allowing them distance.

She nodded, “Yes. Tomorrow.”

His eyes roved down to her mouth and then back up to her eyes, “Goodnight, Gwen.”

And then he was walking away. She watched his figure as he walked down the road, never turning back, until he turned right and disappeared behind a building.

She closed her eyes and sighed, “Fuck me.”

PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR

#the pitt fic #the pitt fanfiction #dr robby #dr robinavitch #dr robby fic #dr robby x reader #dr robby x oc #f!oc #f!reader

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forzalando · 1 year ago

Text

Orange Theory

Charles Leclerc x best friend!reader (female reader)

summary: charles and his best friend do countless nice things for each other, but they're just behaving like any good friend would. right? wc: 2.5k author's note: ok guys so this is not the Charles fic i promised (she is still a WIP and i will finish her eventually. probably will have to be a multi-part fic with how long it's getting), but i hope you enjoy this one in the meantime! special thanks to @scuderiahoney for encouragement and inspiration. special thanks to @sof1shticated for reading and assuring me this doesn't suck. if you haven't read their fics, both Lee and Mel have some gems that i adore. HIGHLY recommend checking out their masterlists! warnings: none!

You loved summer break – Charles was home for at least a few weeks, days spent on a yacht, every afternoon and evening spent with friends either at dinner or out at some club until someone got too drunk to carry on.

Today was, in your humble opinion, the perfect day. All of your friends, courtesy of Charles, were sprawled out on the sun deck of a rented boat or splashing around in the water below. You could feel the heat radiating off of Lando as he laid next to you and whispered about how McLaren was making insane upgrades – according to him, they might just have a race-winning car in the second half of the season.

“Are you boring my best friend to tears, Norris?” The brutal sun disappeared behind Charles’ body as he stood above you – as if on instinct, he shifted slightly so that you could look up at him and not be blinded by its rays.

“She’s hanging on my every word, right, Y/N? In fact, she asked me how I’m feeling about Zandvoort and the rest of the season.”

“And?” Charles asked, a small smile on his face.

“Like I would tell you what’s going on with the car! I know Y/N can keep a secret, she would never betray me to a prancing horse. She bleeds papaya.”

You laughed along with Lando – the one point of contention that had always existed in your friendship with Charles. Of course, you became a Ferrari fan because of him, but you’d always been a McLaren and Mercedes loyalist. It was something that Lando, Oscar, and George relished in.

“Alright, alright, no need to rub it in, Norris,” you giggled. “What can I do for you, Charlie?”

“I just came to give you this.”

Within seconds, a perfectly peeled orange dropped in your lap. Lando’s eyes grew wide for a moment but a swift glare from Charles had his face back to normal in no time. You missed the interaction, jumping up from your seat in excitement.

“Aw, Charlie! You are the best friend a girl could ask for,” you chirped as you started separating the wedges of fruit.

“Ah, don’t mention it,” he sighed, waving his citrus-scented hand in the air. “There’s more in the cooler if you want! Freshly peeled!”

“Thank you, mon cher ami.” You quickly kissed his cheek, noticing as you pulled away just how red it was, along with his neck and the tips of his ears. “Charles! How many times do I have to tell you to put on sunscreen? Your face and neck are fried!”

“I don’t think it’s from the sun,” Lando mumbled, his eyes trained on the fruit in your hands. With Charles insisting he was fine, you could barely hear what he had said.

“What did you say, Lan?” You asked, turning your attention away from Charles for a moment.

Once again, Lando was met with a menacing glare and he laughed awkwardly before moving his gaze to the horizon.

“Nothing, nothing, Y/N. Just thinking out loud.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you turned back to Charles and handed him the orange he had just given to you. With your now free hands, you rifled through your beach bag until you found the SPF 50 face cream you had packed that morning with Charles in mind.

“Here, I packed this for you. Please put some on so I don’t have to worry about you getting sun poisoning,” you pleaded with your best puppy dog eyes.

Charles stared without answering for far too long – anything you wanted, all you had to do was ask him and he’d do it. Even without you gazing at him with your wide, siren eyes, he would give you the world if you so desired it.

He shook his head slightly, pulling himself out of the daze caused by your pleading eyes. “Oui, ma fleur, I will put on the sun cream. Je promets.”

You smiled in triumph, taking the orange back from Charles and bidding him a “see you later” before laying back down in your lounger. Popping an orange slice into your mouth, you let out a contented sigh. Somehow, whether Charles was magic or he had some serious connections in the produce world, the fruit he picked out and gave to you always tasted better than anything you bought yourself.

“He peels your oranges for you?”

You hummed and turned to Lando – “what, Lan?”

“Does Charles always peel your oranges for you?”

“Well, no, obviously not always. Why?”

Before Lando could answer, Lily plopped down next to you and stole an orange slice from your hand.

“I swear,” she huffed, “Alex and George are competitive to begin with, but when they get together, it’s unbearable. They’ve been having a “who can hold their breath the longest” contest for the past thirty minutes! Rematch after rematch after rematch, I called in my favor with Oscar to get out of judging their little competition.”

“As if either of them could beat me, they probably didn’t ask me to join because they’re scared,” Lando bragged. “I’ll leave you ladies to chat, go show them how it’s done.”

As Lando walked towards the edge of the boat, you and Lily turned towards one another.

“Men,” you scoffed in unison, following it up with belly laughs and lingering giggles.

As the laughter died down, Lily ate the orange slice she had stolen from you and practically moaned in delight. “Where did you get this orange? It might be the best I’ve ever had!”

“It’s from Charles! I was just thinking about this, I don’t know how he does it but he always has the best fruit. Every time he brings me any I am both ecstatic and pissed off – my fruit is never as good as his and we shop at the same grocery store!”

“Well, does he have any more oranges? I could eat 20 of these.”

“He said he left me more in his cooler, let me grab them.”

A few moments later, you walked back to Lily with a bag of peeled oranges in your right hand and two bottles of water in your left.

“Are you a professional orange peeler? You were only gone for two minutes.”

“Oh no,” you giggled, “Charles peeled them for me. He knows I don’t like peeling them so when he can, he always does it for me.”

“Y/N,” Lily looked at you suspiciously, “do you know what the orange peel theory is?”

You wracked your brain but came up empty. “No, what is it?”

Lily went into a brief explanation – something about how it became a viral tik tok challenge, people asking their partners if they would peel an orange for them and how it was an indicator of true love, soulmates, a healthy relationship, and everything in between. “Well, that’s just silly,” you mumbled through chews, orange juice dribbling down your chin. “I think it just means someone is a good person – Charlie and I aren’t anything more than friends and he peels my oranges, among other things, because he has a good heart.”

“Among other things?” Lily pressed you, her eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite place.

“He slices my apples because I have never been able to master the apple corer contraption! And he takes all my grapes off the stems when he’s at my place because I never do – it’s too tedious.”

“What else?”

“Oh, when we go out to breakfast, he always brings me a tea when he picks me up. He’s an early riser and I take forever to get ready. He knows I never have time to make it myself when we have plans before 10am.”

Lily was smirking at you, no, smiling at you. It was a little unnerving, the way she was entirely amused at the information you were giving her. However, the moment was briefly interrupted by the arrival of Alex.

“What are we talking about, ladies?” He spoke cheerfully, a broad smile on his face which meant that he was most likely declared the best breath holder of the 2019 rookies.

“Y/N was just telling me about all the sweet things Charles does for her,” Lily gushed.

“Oh god, when is he not doing things for her? Did you see him buttering her bread for her at dinner last week?”

Lily burst out laughing while you playfully punched Alex’s arm. “I’m indecisive! He butters it for me while I read the menu since it takes me so long to figure out what I want to order. It saves time!”

“He does that on a regular basis?” Alex asked incredulously, looking at Lily with wide eyes. “My god, that man is head over heels.”

“Alex,” you protested, “Charles is not in love with me. We’ve been friends for six years, I think I would know by now.”

“You’re both impossible,” Alex groaned. “Come on, Lily, I just came over to get you so we could play water polo with George and Carmen.”

Lily sighed in defeat, though she had a smile on her face at the thought of spending time with Alex even if it meant another competition. “I’ll see you, later, yeah?” She called over her shoulder, waving goodbye as you teased her by dramatically eating another slice of orange and settling back in your chair. At the front of the boat, Charles was laughing with Pierre and almost as if he felt you looking, he turned around and met your gaze.

Even though you had just wholly denied anything more than friendship between you and him, you couldn’t help but think about your interactions with Lily and Alex.

Sure, Charles sometimes did things that were out of the ordinary for ‘just friends’, but he had the sweetest soul of anyone you’d ever met. He always sacrificed his umbrella or jacket for you, made sure you had fresh tulips in your apartment when he was home in between races, had your favorite meal delivered to you when you were having a rough day while he was away and you missed him.

You did things for him too – cleaned his apartment when you knew he was on his way back to Monaco, left him plenty of sticky notes with words of encouragement if he was coming back from a bad race, stocked his fridge full of his favorite things. Recently, you’d been gifting him annotated books because he mentioned he wanted to read more and always enjoyed listening to you talk about your favorite novels. Since you spent most of the year apart, you decided he could at least read your thoughts.

When you could come to races, unfortunately a rare occurrence due to your graduate classes and work schedule, he made sure Ferrari hospitality had your favorite flavor of sparkling water on hand. Anytime you saw a cute dog video, you would send it to him because they always made him smile.

You’d do anything to make him smile, just as he would for you, which is what a good friend would do. A best friend, it’s what a best friend would do.

But best friends didn’t linger in doorways and stare at each other’s lips when bidding each other goodnight. They didn’t cuddle close and fall asleep in each other’s arms on a couch while watching whatever movie you had chosen because he always let you choose.

They didn’t look at one another the way Charles was looking at you now – his sunglasses pushed up on top of his head and a dopey smile on his face. He waved to you and dramatically blew you a kiss, something he always did when he caught your eye across a room, no matter who was around.

You practically launched yourself to your feet, the last remaining orange slices in your lap falling to the lounger and staining the seat with juice. It was only seconds until you were standing in front of Charles but the walk over felt like an eternity with the way the world around you disappeared and your heart pounded in your chest.

“Est-ce que tu maimes, Charles?”

The question came out in one breath, your chest heaving in anticipation for his response.

“Of course, I love you, ma fleur,” he laughed. “What’s gotten into you?”

“No,” you panted. “Do you love me, Charlie? Est-ce que tu maimes?”

“Of course, I love you,” he answered again, his eyes shining and a small smile on his face that told you everything you needed to know. “Every time I think of you, I love you. Every time I breathe, I love you.”

“Every time you peel my oranges?” You whispered, holding up your orange juice-stained fingertips. He took your right hand in his and held it up to his face to kiss your palm, his eyelashes fluttering against you gently.

“Especially when I peel your oranges. Did you know that I hate doing it too? Like, really hate it. I don’t even peel them for myself.”

You gasped in shock, watching as he threw his head back and laughed jovially.

“I’d do anything for you, ma fleur. Mon soleil. Mon cœur.”

“Would you kiss me?”

“Maybe if Pierre would leave and stop gawking at us.”

This time you threw your head back to laugh, Charles soon joining you as Pierre protested the accusation.

“No, no,” he shouted, “you didn’t even give me a chance to leave. Just started declaring your love before I knew what was happening. Which, by the way, was so obvious it was starting to get annoying. We’ve all tried dropping hints to both of you so I don’t know who got through to you, Y/N, but – ”

“Pierre!” You shouted, eyes wide and arm gesturing him away from the two of you.

“Ah, désolé, I’m leaving,” he grumbled, almost tripping over his own feet to get away as quickly as possible.

You giggled again and Charles gripped your chin softly, pulling your eyes away from Pierre and back to face him.

He leaned in gently, as if he was afraid you would back away and regret taking the leap to go from friends to something so much more.

He tasted like salt water, smelled like sweet fruit and sunscreen – you smiled into the kiss knowing that he had listened to you and put it on, even though you knew he hated the way it felt on his skin.

His fingers gripped your waist and yours trailed up his chest – both of you slightly sticky from the citrus juices and sweat from the sun.

You pulled away and nudged his nose with yours, breathing him in and wishing that this moment would never end. Charles lowered you both to the sun deck, adjusting until you were sitting between his legs and his arms were wrapped firmly around you, the two of you facing the sunset and open sea.

After a few moments, you broke the shared silence. “You know, I would have happily peeled an orange for you if you had ever asked me,” you asserted.

Charles’ hold on you softened at your admission, the thinly veiled meaning not at all lost on him as he pressed his lips to your cheek.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x reader #forzalando #f1 fanfic #f1 fic

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wendichester · 2 months ago

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𓂃˖ ࣪⊹ pick of the litter,

summary. it's time to get a new addition to the winchester family.

pairing. dean winchester x reader genre. fluff

wordcount. 600

notes / warnings. beware, this content is pure fluff!

It starts with a casual drive.

A good song on the radio. Dean’s fingers drumming the steering wheel. Your hand resting on his thigh.

Then—

You spot it.

A dog adoption event in the parking lot of a hardware store, a bunch of wagging tails and folding tables under a banner that reads "FIND YOUR FOREVER FRIEND."

You sit up straight and gasp. “Dean. Look—dogs.”

He glances over. “Yeah, I see ‘em.”

“Let’s stop,” you say, already halfway unbuckled.

Dean groans, the smile tugging at his lips betraying the act. “Sweetheart, I swear to God, if you make that face—”

You blink at him. Big eyes. Dramatic pout.

He sighs like it pains him. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You don’t even make it past the first row of kennels before you see him.

A floppy-eared, caramel-colored mutt curled up in the back of a cage. Shy eyes. Big paws. Tail thumping once when you crouch down.

The little guy looks right at you, and it’s like someone physically grabs your heart and squeezes.

Dean’s behind you, already shaking his head. “We are not getting a dog.”

You don’t say a word. Just slowly tilt your face up toward him, your expression soft and devastating.

He groans. “Dammit.”

The shelter volunteer tells you the pup was found abandoned behind a gas station. No chip. Maybe two years old. Quiet, well-behaved, loves belly rubs and cheese slices.

Dean crouches down and holds out a hand. The mutt pads forward on uncertain legs, gives Dean’s fingers a slow sniff, and then presses his head into Dean’s palm.

Dean freezes.

You whisper, “We’re taking him home, aren’t we?”

He doesn’t answer right away. But the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s already lost.

The real test comes when the volunteer hands you the leash and says, “You can load him into your car whenever you’re ready.”

Dean looks at the Impala. Then at the dog. Then at you.

He points a stern finger. “He’s not scratching the seats. He pukes, he walks the next ten miles.”

You’re grinning. “Dean…”

He groans again, unlocking the back door like it’s killing him. “There’s a rule, you know. No dogs in the Impala.”

You raise a brow. “Thought I was the exception to all your rules?”

Dean’s already watching Moose (that’s what you named him, claiming it somehow reminded you of Sam—Dean claims it’s “unoriginal,” but he’s totally smitten) climb in with surprising grace.

He mutters, “Yeah, well. Guess the dog is too now.”

Moose sleeps the entire ride home, curled up on a blanket you spread out just for him. Dean keeps glancing in the rearview mirror, the corner of his mouth lifted in that stupid soft smile he doesn’t think you see.

“Admit it,” you murmur, fingers laced with his, “you love him already.”

Dean snorts. “He’s alright, for a drooly furball.” He pauses. “And if he even looks at my leather seats wrong, I’m kicking both of you out.”

You kiss his shoulder. “Sure, babe.”

That night, Moose is curled up in his new bed by the front door, belly full, tail twitching in sleep.

You and Dean are sprawled on the couch, tangled under a blanket, your head on his chest as his fingers trail lazily up and down your spine.

“You did good,” you whisper.

Dean kisses your hair. “We did good.”

Across the room, Moose lets out a soft little huff in his sleep—content, safe, home.

And Dean? He’s already googling “best dog treats” on his phone like he’s not totally gone.

You just smile. Because this is your family.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fic #supernatural #.docx

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comatosebunny09 · 4 months ago

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serve & protect | sylus

— summary: you’ve stood dutifully by his side for years. seen him at his worst, not once letting that side of him deter you. can you blame him for craving more than your loyalty? — cw: royalty au, king sylus, femme reader, knight/bodyguard reader, mutual pining, marking, restraints, sexual tension, slow burn, sylus isn’t a normal king, this isn’t a medieval setting, there are cars and indoor plumbing ‘round here, reader has hair for the sake of plot — notes: a reimagining of something i wrote a few years ago. heavily inspired by final fantasy xv & the beast within (2024). tysm for reading! [ prologue ] — now playing: tender strength - yu-peng chan, hoyo-mix

Willing His Majesty to behave and him actually doing so are two foreign points on a map.

It’s kind of your fault, really.

You almost don’t. Nearly preserve your aloofness, your decorum. But then you do let your formalities slip for the briefest second, and that’s what heralds this mess.

A traitorous sigh slips past your lips, summoning the attention of your wintry-haired charge.

Warmth pours throughout your person, a prickly spike of embarrassment clotting your veins. You stiffen, staring at the dark, heavy curtains shielding the dining hall from the sun’s brilliant spill. Try to ignore how your skin tingles beneath the curious study of your king. How those scarlet eyes crinkle mirthfully, wittingly, and you know all too well no good will come from that look.

He’s in a playful mood, isn’t he? And you’re about to serve as his court jester.

“Are you alright, dear friend?” he intones, loud enough for only you to hear, ignoring the monotonous prattle of his guest across the table.

His voice curls around your brain, seeping through the folds of it. You straighten, arms stiffly folded behind you, quietly clearing your throat to ward off the spell of dizziness threatening to take hold. Curse him for sounding so devastatingly hot. For being so terribly distracting, so unfairly handsome.

You murmur an apology, not once taking your eyes off the far wall to look at him. To do so would be dangerous. Get you into more trouble. You hope by ignoring him, he’ll leave you be, but—

Well, His Majesty is a stubborn man, and once he gets going, there’s no stopping him.

He fiddles with a fork on the dining table with long, skillful fingers. Smooths out the little wrinkles forming in the tablecloth, adjusting himself in his wing-backed seat into an uninterested slouch. “You’ve been awfully huffy today. Are you bored?”

A little, you inwardly reply. You don’t care much for politics. For these fickle conversations of wealth, alliances, and nobility. You merely follow orders, keeping your opinions to yourself unless they’re explicitly requested.

Being a knight proves to be much more entertaining than serving as a tactician or advisor. At least you can keep your hands and feet busy instead of rotting away at a desk, ripping out your hair and fretting over the intricacies of running an entire nation.

You remain quiet, tuning out His Majesty’s attempts to get you to break character.

But, as mentioned before, your king is a persistent man.

He sighs, slipping further down in his chair. Props his temple on his knuckles, an ankle resting on the pocket of his knee whilst the free set of fingers drum on the chair’s arm. “I don’t blame you if you are. She’s not very entertaining, is she? Nor is she very bright.”

You snort despite yourself. Quickly remember your decorum, a scowl twisting up your lips. Your eyes shoot to your wayward king. “Majesty!” you admonish on a whispered yell.

A smirk pulls at his lips. He playfully narrows his eyes at you from behind the shelter of his hand. Has you right where he wants you, feeding into his childish games. Just like old times.

Your staring contest, however, is short-lived when the sharp click of a teacup meeting its saucer echoes through the stilled dining hall.

“I’m sorry,” quips a voice doused in vitriol from the table’s other end, causing your attention to snap to its source. “Am I interrupting something?”

The Queen of Universum ingests the pair of you with sharp, mead-infused eyes, vexation tugging at her red-painted lips. Like two scolded children, you straighten, King Sylus sitting up in his seat with a brilliantly fake smile.

“Of course not. Please, continue with your monologuing,” he says with a theatrical flourish of his fingers. He would roll his eyes if he could; you just know it.

You disguise a laugh as a cough, piping up when the queen’s glare snaps to you. You try not to bristle beneath the weight she carries. Beneath the thin stretch of her lips. She doesn’t like you very much. Of course, you don’t care for her, either.

She’s made it perfectly clear that she views you as a threat to her plans—marrying her daughter off to your king to forge an alliance between your countries, to spread her family’s reign. No room for love. She’s mentioned more than once that your familiarity with the king is inappropriate, a threat to his crown. How scandalous it would be for him to take you as his bride instead of someone with noble blood.

You bite the inside of your cheek, fingers curling into a fist at your back until your nails bite unforgivingly into your palm.

Like you don’t already grapple with the notion every time he touches you or smiles a little too charmingly in your direction.

You’re not fit to be a contender for his heart; not fit to be a queen.

Her eyes finally slip away from you, refocusing on the center of your musings. Your relief is short-lived as an impish smile rounds her lips. You swallow thickly, the queen’s body language boding danger.

“Is it truly necessary for your lapdog to be here? Her presence is spoiling my meal.”

You blink rapidly. Incredulously, mouth spilling open.

Lap—

Lapdog?

I’m sorry, what?

If you had hackles, they would raise. Instead, your nostrils flare, the tendons in your neck pulling, jaw set in a rigid line. An omniscient smirk cants the queen’s lips. She knows just how to creep beneath your skin, how to wrap her claws around your pride and pull it apart.

How dare she compare you to a bloody dog! You’re loyal, yes. At His Majesty’s beck and call. His shield. Have been for years. But to be compared to an animal, of all things—

He feels the malice sloughing off your skin in waves. Eyes you warily in his peripheral before raising a hand to quell your silent rage.

“Down, girl,” he teases, and you glower at him.

It seems he also wants to play along with these dog jokes.

Leaning forward, your king perches his elbows on the dining table. Twines his fingers together, resting his chin atop his knuckles, a deceptively sweet smile boasting his teeth. Having known him for as long as you have, you can easily sense the irritation pouring over the tense set of his muscles. The stiffness between his shoulder blades, peering through the tailored pleat of his jacket.

“My Lady,” he begins, words bathed in silk. “I’m not sure how you treat your subjects in Universum, and frankly, I do not care. But here, we address our people with dignity and respect regardless of race, color, status, or creed.”

The queen’s expression morphs into one of mortification. She straightens in her seat, a steady creep of redness inhabiting her cheeks as she studies the doily texture of the tablecloth. You resist an urge to cheer.

“While you are my guest, you are expected to behave with poise and grace. And I would greatly appreciate it if you did not disrespect my friend here like that again.”

Scarlet eyes briefly flit to you, shining with a spark of fondness—a tenderness that sets your body alight with heat—before returning to the queen.

“Or anyone in my kingdom, for that matter. Understood?” His Majesty concludes with a raised brow, sparing no room for argument.

Pride swells in your chest, warm like the soft embrace of a fur shawl on a wintry day. He’s shut her up in his own way. Read her to filth with the poise and regality of a man of his stature, and you’re envious of his composure. They don’t call him a king for nothing.

You straighten at his side, mouth twitching with the threat of an arrogant smile, and your chin lifts slightly. Defiantly.

She studies her lap, pulling at her fingernails. You watch a kaleidoscope of emotions stroll across her face before a nervous titter falls from her lips.

“My apologies, Your Majesty. That was very inappropriate of me.” Her pink tongue darts out to wet her lips while she sweeps a chocolate ringlet of hair behind her ear. “I was only hoping that the two of us could have a little…chat.” She looks at you, a note of caution stirring beneath her lashes. “Alone.”

Sylus sits back with a scoff as if he’s just as confused by her request as you are. It’s rare you leave his side. Rare you’re not in his shadow, head on a swivel, fingers wrapped about your sword. You’re even present when he’s sunk beneath the murky pull of sleep.

“Does her being here pose some sort of threat to you?” he interrogates around a smirk.

“Not so much a threat as it is a distraction.”

A distraction to whom, you wonder. It’s a ridiculous request. You’re his bodyguard, for the Gods’ sake. You wouldn’t put it past her to make an attempt on his life in your absence. Forgo the pleasantries and proposal for marriage and end his lineage here and now. Not that she could.

Your mouth works around a protest, yet it dies in your throat when your king calls your name after some time spent deliberating. He peers at you from his shoulder, and you snap to attention.

“Sorry, dear friend,” he says, tone sloping with repentance. “Would you mind giving us some space for a little while? I fear your presence is making our guest uncomfortable.”

You cast him a pensive look. Lips tremble and part. His expression softens, and he winks at you, turning up the dial of his charm.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Of course, he will be alright. His Majesty is more than capable of handling himself. Sometimes, you wonder what purpose you serve. He’s a hulk of a man, brimming with untapped power and bleeding intimidation. Most days, you feel you’re by his side to create the illusion of protection.

Remembering your place, you step back and excuse yourself with a curt bow. You caution one last look at your charge before pivoting, briskly making for the door, ignoring the thunderous drum of your pulse in your ears.

You feel his eyes track your every move as your boots click soundly against the glittering, marbled floor. Feel the queen’s gaze drilling into your back, exuding a quieted smugness as if she’s won your silent war of wills.

As the solid, ornate doors of the dining hall draw closed behind you, you catch wind of their conversation over your shoulder, and your heart plummets to your feet.

“So,” begins the queen, voice steeping low. “I hear you are in need of a bride.”

—

You’re a mess of grit teeth and unease on the doors’ other side.

You’ve paced back and forth for what feels like an eternity, warring with your emotions. You’re not sure what has you more on edge: having been made to look like a fool in front of your king, or the implications of that statement when you departed from the dining room.

“I hear you are in need of a bride.”

The conversation was inevitable. Doesn’t mean you have to like it.

It’s the entire reason Universum’s queen has frequented your kingdom so much. Trying to set him up with her daughter, the princess, under the guise of uniting your people. You both know she’s greedy for power following her husband’s untimely demise, and His Majesty is teeming with it.

You scoff, stopping your march to lean against the double doors, arms crossed over your chest. With a shuddering breath out, your face turned skyward, and your eyes shuttered closed, you try to compose yourself.

If you keep huffing and puffing about like this, you might convince yourself that you care for your king more than you should. More than you’re allowed to.

When you’ve begun to settle your nerves, the chorus of boots striking the carpeted floor piques your interest.

You open an eye as dark figures of varying heights and sizes ease into frame, moving past you, carrying laughter and camaraderie with them. Crownsguardsmen.

They regard you with quick bows and wary smiles, their banter lulling to a dull murmur in the face of their superior. You acknowledge them casually, still propped against the oakwood doors, not at all in the mood for formalities.

Amid the gaggle of guards, a set of curious sienna eyes alight on you, widening with recognition before crinkling with glee.

The smaller guard shoves through her comrades, briskly approaching you as her teammates walk out of sight. You study the top of her sleek, brown hair before she stops before you. And you stiffen, stammering as she snatches up your hands, her excitement palpable.

Tara. You recognize her as a new recruit with youthful eyes and enough enthusiasm to power the entire Citadel.

She reminded you of yourself when you first joined the king’s army. A young woman with a target on her back because of her gender and status. She possessed exceptional prowess with an array of weapons and vast knowledge of the kingdom’s technology. Yet, she was constantly beleaguered by her comrades and, oftentimes, her trainers.

You threw around your brass a little, ensuring she was treated as fairly as her male counterparts whilst she trained as a knight. Sometimes sparred or studied with her on your rare occasions of downtime. You were there to congratulate her when she’d been appointed a member of His Majesty’s royal guard.

With King Sylus on the throne, the Crownsguard became more progressive, opening its doors to anyone willing to lay their life down for him. Too bad a bunch of egotistical, chauvinistic airheads still occupied his ranks.

“Good afternoon, ma’am!” Tara sing-songs, overflowing with zeal.

You wince at the pitch of her voice, the brilliance of her smile. But you find her infectious, a soft chuckle ducking through your lips. You unwind one of your hands from her grasp, ruffling her hair affectionately. Had she been anyone else, you would’ve reprimanded her for forgoing the proper customs and courtesies.

But are you really in any position to lecture anyone about etiquette right now?

“Good afternoon, Tara.” You’re surprised by the mildness of your voice. The fondness of it.

If she had a tail, it would surely be wagging. Your innards color with warmth at the thought. You’ve found someone else you want to protect almost as much as your king.

“How are you today, ma’am?” she asks, dispelling the nebula of your thoughts.

Averting your gaze, you sigh, recalling what’s got you so out of sorts in the first place. You cross your arms, your spine reacquainting itself with the intricate carvings of one of the dining room’s doors with a muted thunk. “I’ve had better days.”

Tara’s expression pulls into one of curiosity. “Something the matter?”

She steps closer, bursting your figurative bubble. With her hands clasped behind her back, Tara scrutinizes you, ducking this way and that, giving you a visual inspection.

“Come to think of it, isn’t His Majesty having brunch with the Queen of Universum right now?” She pensively taps her lip with her index finger, eyes narrowing in thought. “Behind you?”

You flinch, watching her from down your nose. She’s eerily perceptive for someone so young. Invasive, pummeling you with a hundred questions a minute.

“That’s strange. Aren’t you normally by his side? Did something happen? Did you get into trouble?” Tara goads, nudging you with her elbow.

You scoff, pushing off the door. For all the years you’ve known your king, you’ve never been in trouble with him. Garnered the ire of his advisor once or twice, sure. Pissed off his royal entourage with your sharp tongue, maybe. But you don’t think Sylus harbors a malicious bone in his body for you. You don’t think he ever could.

You cross the hall, perching your hands on an adjacent windowsill. The marble texture is cold beneath your palms. Grounding. You study the mixture of historical and modern architecture lining the horizon, a scene reminiscent of a dragon’s maw.

The land of Insomnia brims with life beyond The Citadel’s walls, a nation once war-torn slowly rebuilding itself under the guidance of your genial king.

“No, I’m not in trouble.” You turn, sitting on the ledge. Your voice descends as if you’re having a conversation with yourself. “But not everyone seems to like the idea of me at the king’s side.”

Tara moves towards you with a placating smile, taking up one of your hands and squeezing it. “The queen doesn’t like you very much, does she?”

Your silence serves as her answer.

The smaller woman pats your hand, thumb smoothing over the rough patch of skin stretched over the clutch of it. “Well, I could’ve told you that.”

You cut your eyes at her in warning. What’s with everyone testing your patience today? Picking on you?

“You’re competition,” Tara matter of factly adds, maneuvering to lean against the windowsill beside you.

You study the weathered tips of your boots before your gaze slowly rises to Tara. Her eyes gloss over with tenderness. With pity as a slow creep of heat inhabits the pit of your stomach. You avert your gaze, boring into the dining hall’s doors.

You don’t have to ask what she means by that; you’ve heard the statement numerous times as of late. Your king’s recent treatment of you doesn’t help matters, exacerbating the rumor that you’re more than just his loyal subject.

As if sensing your internal plight, Tara decides to shift gears. You’re grateful for the reprieve, getting too hung up in your mind again.

“So, do you really think the queen killed her husband?” she whispers, leaning in with a hand cupped around her mouth.

You chuckle. Leave it to Tara to fill the space with gossip. “I couldn’t say. But I wouldn’t put it past her. She’s a bit of a bi—”

As if on cue, the grandiose doors of the dining room groan open, spilling the artificial light inside onto the carpeted floor. You and Tara snap to attention like two youths caught dawdling, stone-faced, the remnants of your conversation corked in your throats.

How anticlimactic, you muse, watching several figures emerge from the room until your eyes alight on a familiar, riotous mop of white.

Your breath thickens in your throat as scarlet eyes capture yours. The lips beneath them quirk before the towering silhouette they belong to, strides past you.

Tara’s hand brushes yours. You don’t have to look to know she’s giving you the most impish side-eye.

The queen turns on her heel to face your king, her entourage scuttling about behind her. She’s half-hidden by the mass that is His Majesty, but beyond his bulk, you make out her red lips curving into a deceitful smile. Bile singes the back of your throat, your fists tightening at your sides.

“It’s been a pleasure, Your Majesty.” She punctuates her words with a small curtsy and head tilt.

His Majesty stuffs his hand in his pocket, his wispy hair sweeping over broad shoulders. Boredom lances through his deep timbre, and you imagine his eyes rolling with disinterest. “The pleasure was hardly mine.”

An indignant sound salts the air, dredged from the queen’s throat. You bite back a laugh, recalling what got you sent out in the first place. Tara flinches in your peripheral, tamping down a laugh herself.

Ignoring your king’s waywardness, the queen squares her shoulders and straightens her spine, her head held high. She clears her throat, holding out her hand for your liege to take. When he does nothing, she waggles it expectantly, wordlessly demanding he kiss it.

You watch the scene unfold with bated breath, tight lips. Inwardly cheer when Sylus scoffs, turning away from his obstinate guest. He waves a tired hand over his shoulder, summoning two guards stationed by the hallway’s entrance.

“Please ensure the queen makes it back to her car. Safely or harmed, I don’t care,” he tacks on under his breath.

The guards acknowledge him with nods and move to flank the queen and her royal retinue. The woman huffs, indignantly stomping her foot like a child deprived of their favorite snack. She grabs the tail of her dress and brusquely spins before being led out, carrying her jilted air with her.

You resist a smile. Pride spools heavy in your chest. It’s almost like your souls are linked; your king’s never cared for rude nobles and their politics, mirroring your sentiment.

He conquers the space between you in three measured strides. Pilfers the air from your lungs as electricity and pheromones spark between you, and you’re drawn into the ruinous stir of his eyes.

Sensing the shift in the atmosphere, Tara dismisses herself with a bow, but not before discreetly nudging you in her retreat. Sylus barely acknowledges her, busy memorizing every detail of your face. Every tight breath slipping through your parted lips, every feathery flutter of your lashes.

You rapidly blink as if remembering where you are, keenly aware that the pair of you are alone.

The king’s proximity throws you off-kilter. The earthy scent and comforting warmth he exudes permeate the thickened layers of your uniform, wrapping around your heart, squeezing, leaving you raw and exposed. Your jaw ticks.

His expression slackens, brows knitting in the inner corners, and he coyly cocks his head to one side. “Are you alright, dear friend?” The texture of his voice is gritty as sandpaper, yet it’s disarming in a way that leaves you weak-kneed with a heavy tongue.

“H-huh?” comes your foolish reply. You would kick yourself for how lovestruck you sound.

Your king chuckles, a genuine sound reserved for hushed moments like these, tucked away from the prying eyes of his court. Your lips twitch before a slender finger pokes the space between your eyes, dispelling the dreamlike fog that once loomed overhead.

“I asked,” poke, “if you,” poke, “are feeling,” poke, “alright? You look a bit flustered.”

You swat his hand like an enraged feline, to which he chuckles, all manner of refinement thrown to the wolves. He’s as bratty as ever, a reflection of that child you once knew who’d shove you off the hill to be king of it. Who knew he’d grow to take an entire kingdom onto his shoulders?

You clear the phlegm from your throat, taking a step back, haughtiness meddling with your features as his hand falls listlessly at his side.

“I’m fine, Majesty. Though I’d be better if someone learned to keep his hands to himself.”

The monarch in question feigns innocence, blinking owlishly, a dramatic hand splayed over his heart. “What? I thought you liked it when I badgered you like this. When I kept you on your toes.”

You scowl, crossing your arms and impatiently tapping your foot. “Not when it borders sexual harassment. Need I remind you of your briefings, sir? Should we revisit them?”

He sputters, mortification descending on his face. You bite back a snicker. He’s much too handsome like this—playful, boyish, unguarded. An affectionate smile crests over his mouth when you let a bewitchingly sweet laugh slip. He takes a step forward, swaddling you in prickly static, dwarfing you by a good foot. Your traitorous heart thumps something wild, threatening to leap from your chest as the mirth melts from your face.

“Would you believe that woman came here to coerce me into taking her daughter’s hand?” rasps your king, voice descending into a secret.

You swallow, staring between his eyes, unconsciously leaning back. You nod when words fail you. Bristle as a set of spindly fingers creep down your forearm in pursuit of your hand, scorching through the fibers of your coat.

Your breath catches whilst His Majesty brings your hand to his lips, and he kisses it with as much fervor as he did in the gardens. It’s a simple gesture. An innocent one that feels perverse in a way, burning down to your core, the molten heat creeping back up to take residence in your neck and face.

“The only hand I wish to hold,” he smooths his thumb over the notches of your knuckles like a blind man committing their texture to memory, “is this one.” Another brush of full lips makes you wince as if branded by a hot iron.

It’s becoming increasingly difficult to breathe. Not with him so close, nor with the potency of his gaze drilling down to your soul. You wonder if he’s trying to kill you when he tugs you to him, a possessive hand falling to your hip.

Whatever oxygen was left in your lungs abandons you in a sharp gasp, making way for a pleasant fuzziness and overwhelming heat. He snakes his arm around your waist before dipping you like the pair of you are waltzing, and your hand instinctively clasps around his shoulder to keep you from crumbling to the floor.

Hooded eyes pan in, filling your vision with nothing but a beautiful wash of red. His stare centers in on your mouth, and he leans closer until your breaths intermingle, and your limbs feel like jelly, and you’re lightheaded, and…and—

You screw your eyes shut, pushing your palms against his catastrophically hard chest. He’s a dream forged by the Gods. Temptation sent to lure you astray.

“Majesty,” you gasp. You sound so incredibly pitiful, so breathless, and it makes you sick. “Majesty, please. You can’t—we can’t—” You twist your head, pillow-soft lips grazing your cheek instead of your mouth, pleasant tingles of sensation humming throughout your body.

“Can’t what?” he breathes, voice strained with the effort of containing himself whilst he roots his nose against the tender space behind your ear. He draws you closer against the hard press of his body whilst nosing along your jaw, ingesting the warm scent wafting off your skin.

Your shoulder throbs beneath your uniform where two raw indentations reside. They’ve never truly healed after two years, the pain announcing itself in intimate quarters like this with your king. It’s a reminder of your anchor to him, to what truly lives beneath his skin.

“The maids, the guards. What if—” You scramble for every excuse not to give in. Not to betray the oath you took to protect him. To always put him first, to never fall for him. “—what if someone sees us, Majesty?”

A bitten-off, barely there growl cleaves through your ramblings. Lithe fingers encase your jaw, coaxing you to look at your charge. A glacial thrill shoots through your body at the sight that greets you. White, mussed hair falls perfectly into his face, lips parted and glistening invitingly, eyes wrinkling with a mixture of anguish and yearning. He reminds you of something beastly, fighting to reign in his instincts. Fighting not to lose control.

“You’ve known me for however long, yet you insist on calling me that.”

He gathers your cheek into his pleasantly warm palm, angling your neck further back. You fight to keep your eyes open, your fingers curling into the fabric of his blazer. You’re spilling over the edge. Teetering over that blurry line between daydreams and reality.

“I wish you would stop with the formalities. Majesty this, Your Majesty that.” Scoff. “Is this your way of shutting me out? Pushing me away?”

You haven’t the gall to tell him yes, too distracted by the flats of his nails dragging along your cheek, sweeping errant hair strands behind your ear. You shudder, and he pans in, your mouths but a whisker’s width apart.

“If you carry on like this, I may have to punish you for your insolence.”

You suck in a breath at the underlying threat in his voice. Know it carries no weight. He’d never lay a finger on you outside of affection. But how wonderful it sounds, to be punished for your insubordination.

Your noses brush, mouths ghosting over each other whilst careful fingers curl around your nape, scrawling through your hair. You fear that you might faint, the heat spooling in your belly threatening to burn through layers of flesh. You’re clutching the lapels of his jacket for dear life now. Torturing yourself, wanting to conquer what little space remains between your mouths and—

Forbidden. The accursed word echoes in your mind like the weighted chime of a church bell. It resounds so miserably in your mind, reminding you of your place. Your duty. You’re no noblewoman. No contender for his heart.

“Please don’t,” you utter between a laugh and a sob. Begging is unbecoming of you, but when it comes to protecting your king and his crown, you would fall to your knees if you had to.

The body against yours stiffens. A pained sound tears through His Majesty’s chest, crackling like a hearth fire. You feel terrible for denying him again. For pushing him away like you always do. But many women regularly throw themselves at his feet, willing to ease his affliction—women of noble blood, of virtue.

Grief furrows his brows, his eyes sweeping over your face. A forlorn smile touches his lips. He exhales loudly, shakily, his thumb cruising over the outward arc of your brow, his gaze tracking the gentle movement.

“Of everything that resides within these walls, within this kingdom, you manage to elude me the most.”

His eyes snap to yours, and you shiver beneath the weight they boast. He could easily flex his power over you. Command you to stay still while he ravages you. But that’s never been his style, has it? Another trait of his drawing you deeper into his spell.

“Why do you run from me? Why do you continue to deny me? Why continue to deny yourself? I hear how your body calls to me. Your heartbeat, your scent. So ripe. So untainted.”

The exasperation in his voice makes your stomach lurch.

I’m not denying anyone, you wish to say. I just…I don’t know. I don’t—

“Where in the hells is he?!” a familiar voice ricochets through the empty hallway—your saving grace. Seems his advisor is on a rampage again. You’ve never wanted to kiss the eccentric man more.

“Impeccable timing as always,” sighs your king, rolling his eyes. He reluctantly releases you, his hands at your waist until your legs remember they are meant to support you.

Just as you spring apart, and you begin smoothing out the wrinkles in your uniform, your hair spills in warm tendrils down your neck, puddling around your shoulders, water-falling from its usual coiffure.

You blink incredulously, taking note of the impish smirk canting the king’s lips. Something silver gleams in your periphery.

You watch with horror as he twirls your hairpin between dexterous fingers before bringing the warm, tarnished metal to his lips for a kiss. It’s an intimate sight. An image that makes a shiver wrack your spine, makes you dizzy, and you don’t know whether to be flattered or mortified.

“Y-Your Majesty, give that back!”

The monarch in question chuckles something smoky, dangling the ornate pin out of reach when you swipe at it. He has an unfair advantage over you. You contemplate kicking him in his shin, figuring the risk of losing your foot is well worth it.

Your breasts scrub against him as you struggle on tippy toes, clawing at your hairpin with the ferocity of a cat. And as your nipples knot beneath the rough glide of your uniform, you are reminded of the devastating press of His Majesty’s body.

By the Gods, it’s too much. You’re sure your face is all types of flustered now, heat spuming beneath your skin.

“My, my. Throwing yourself at your king like this. How scandalous,” he purrs, enjoying your plight a little too much. His twisted way of getting revenge for you staving off his advances.

“Your Majesty, that is my mother’s,” you pant, taking a step back with beseeching eyes.

He clicks his tongue, studying the pin as if it houses all the secrets to your bloodline. “That makes the spoils of victory that much sweeter.”

You watch with puffed up cheeks as he tucks the hairpin into his breast pocket, the jaded metal gleaming condescendingly at you.

“Consider it collateral.”

For what, you haven’t the foggiest.

With all the smugness of the world, your king brushes past you, his hands in his pockets. You stomp behind him, fighting to keep stride with his longer ones, clawing at his pocket when a moment presents itself.

You try to sweep your hair into some semblance of neatness before the pair of you meet his advisor. Before curious eyes can form questions where there should be none.

You hardly miss the enamored smile rounding his lips as he peers at you over his shoulder.

“You lunatic,” you curse beneath your breath, barely concealing the hint of unguardedness inhabiting your voice.

—

It all makes sense as you shackle his neck with a rusted collar. You can count on one hand how often you’ve had to do this in the past year.

You step back after sliding your fingers over the stubble on his cheeks. His eyes harbor a deep sadness despite the smirk on his face, baring a pointed canine.

“What? No muzzle this time?”

You scoff, kneeling before him, defiantly peering into his eyes, a harsh forefinger pressed between his pectorals. “If you keep talking, I’ll have one of the twins fetch it from the car.”

He chuckles at your brazenness. Leave it to him to try to lighten the mood in an atmosphere rife with tension. Thick with urgency, with fear. He tests the cuffs around his wrists and ankles, ensuring they won’t give too much when they’re put to the test later.

As if on autopilot, you reach out to ease sweat-slicked hair from his forehead, and he pauses, those brilliantly devastating eyes drinking you in.

He swallows, studying the ground. For the first time in a long time, you’ve seen true fear stain your king’s visage.

“One day, I won’t leave this cage as the man you know and love.”

You scoff, masking your anxiety as you placatingly pat his thigh. You stand, swiping his coat on the way up, dust speckling its sleeves. You have to be strong. You’re slowly falling apart at the seams but must remain fearless. He needs all the strength you can lend him right now.

You give him a quick look, a brief upward pull of your lips, before turning away from your king, the cage’s heavy door squealing shut behind you. You err in your steps when he calls your name. Slightly tilt your chin over your shoulder.

“When that day comes, I expect you to uphold your end of the bargain.”

Your grip on his coat tightens, jaw set in a terse line. “That day will never come,” you murmur, more to yourself than him, and you hurry up the sand-laden stairs towards the structure’s entrance.

The twins address you with curt nods as you pass them on your way to the car. Night and soaring evergreens stretch overhead like a yawning beast. The moon peers through the treetops, sluggishly cresting its way to the center of the sky.

You sling His Majesty’s coat across the backseat. Stiffen when a familiar glint of silver catches your sight from behind his breast pocket. You grit your teeth, leaning against the car door to grant yourself a moment of respite.

“How do you stand this? Does it ever get any easier?” you recall Tara asking, her eyes glossing over with a thin film of tears as she squeezed your hands.

She was still fresh to this lifestyle. To this harrowing secret lurking beneath the kingdom. You couldn’t blame her for being scared witless. No one wanted to see the king in pain. Only a handful of people knew of his true nature. What bubbled beneath his skin.

It never does, you think, pushing off from the car and slamming the door shut.

Your boots crunch soundly over dead grass and splintered twigs as you make your way back to the twins. You squeeze Kieran’s shoulder reassuringly, giving him a tight-lipped smile. He nods, his somberness hidden beneath the gaudy beak of his mask.

It never gets easier, hearing him scream like that. Bloodcurdling and raw, reminiscent of a demon clawing its way from the hells. Hearing him call to you in a voice so broken, you feel its talons sinking into your heart. You’ve just grown more skilled at hiding your pain. Holding back your tears.

What good are you if you can’t even protect your liege from himself?

— tags: @f1c-recs, @mt2sssss, @samoankpoper21, @lovemesomesaltysylus

prologue | masterlist

#sylus x reader #sylus x you #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #qin che #sylus love and deepspace #sylus qin #sylus angst #sylus lads #serve & protect series

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deathofacupid · 3 months ago

Text

BUTTERFLY EFFECT ୨ৎ track one : damage control.

racing grounds — series m.list. ᡣ𐭩 ferrari-racer!gojo x redbull-racer!sukuna x redbull-manager!reader. warnings — sukuna being remotely nasty, gojo being a narcissistic freak - they're practically the same, except one has anger issues, and the other takes it up the ass. cursing, allusions to sex. threats. reader gets called "babe." let me know if i missed anything! (呪術廻戦) : note — chapter one, and i'm locked in. 1.4k+ words.

"alright," you say, smoothing out the silken fabric of your dress. you watch the limousine, a sleek black beast, disappear around the corner, then turn your attention back to sukuna.

you're standing outside the grand, brightly lit party hall, the faint classical music already vibrating through the pavement beneath your feet, alongside him.

adjusting his tie, which seemed to have an inherent desire to strangle him, you look up to meet his eyes. "remember anything i said?"

his answer is curt, a single syllable of defiance; "no."

well, at least he's consistently honest, even if that honesty was infuriating.

"alright," you sigh, the weariness settling deep in your bones. "ferrari's going to be in there, okay? and a few other people who… well, let’s just say they have a history with you."

a grunt, a non-committal sound that did little to reassure you.

"that means no picking fights, no throwing hands. if they play mean, don't indulge. be the bigger person. i don't want a repeat of last time," you warn, your voice laced with a stern edge.

oh, god, just the mere mention of last time was enough to shave off another five years off your already stressed-out life. the chaos, the broken furniture, the… you’d rather not relive it.

"oh, c'mon," sukuna groans, his voice a low rumble of annoyance. "last time wasn't even my fault. they started it."

"no one mistakes 'dapper' for 'diaper'," you mutter, pointedly ignoring the faint pink that crept up his neck and warmed his cheeks.

"whatever." he rolls his eyes, a dramatic flourish that seemed to say he was the victim of some great injustice, and immediately went to loosen the tie you had just painstakingly tightened.

"behave," you scold, swatting his hand away with a sharp, decisive motion. "you're not a baby."

he's got that infuriating shit-eating grin on his face, the one that always made you suspect he was plotting something. "or, what? you'll punish me?"

you click your tongue, a sound of exasperation. "i'm serious, sukuna."

"so am i," he replies, his grin widening, making you doubt his sincerity.

"sukuna."

"alright, alright," he concedes, though his eyes held a mischievous glint that suggested he was far from reformed.

you glance at his hair, previously styled with gel into a sleek, sophisticated look, now unkempt and tousled.

"stop touching it," you add, glaring at the way he tugs his hand through it, effectively dismantling your efforts. "you look like you wrestled a badger, and somehow lost."

"ready?" you asked, turning away from him, the question more a weary exhale than a genuine inquiry.

"you sound like you're asking yourself, more than me," sukuna retorted, his crimson eyes gleaming with amusement.

"be quiet. let's go." you pushed open the heavy, ornate doors leading into the grand hall, a wave of noise and flashing lights hitting you. reporters swarmed, their eyes immediately snapping to sukuna’s vibrant pink hair. you held your breath, scanning for any signs of imminent chaos.

his record, if you remembered correctly, was five minutes. five minutes before he'd launched into a tirade that involved at least three expletives and a threat to "rearrange someone's face." today, you were aiming for a new record: peace.

"mr. sukuna, how are you feeling about the upcoming race?" a woman, her face framed by a meticulously styled bob, asked, her microphone thrust forward.

"gonna fucking beat their asses," sukuna growled, his voice a low rumble.

you forced a strained laugh, leaning into the nearest camera. "yes, uh, he's feeling rather confident. they've all been training hard, so…"

a man with a receding hairline, his tie askew, pushed past the woman. "with gojo constantly stirring the pot, keeping up to date on the beef—"

"not beef," you interjected, your smile strained but polite. "it's all in good companionship."

he ignored you, his eyes fixed on sukuna. you wondered if your intervention had been a waste of breath. you’d seen enough of their practice runs to know the intense rivalry was more than just “companionship.”

"keeping up to date on the beef," he repeated, "do you have any words for him?"

"i'm not a pussy. he's here, ain't he? i'll tell him to his face."

your eyes widened. the reporter, sensing blood in the water, pressed on. "well, tell the viewers, too. don't want to leave them in the dark, right?"

sukuna paused, his lips parting. you quickly grabbed his arm, pulling him aside. "thank you, but that's all he'll be answering for now."

you dragged him to a relatively quiet alcove, your eyes narrowed. "hey, by any chance, do you remember the conversation we had, what? ten minutes ago? about behaving?"

"sure, and i said i would, if you made me. so, why don't you save us the time, and we get—" he waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"sukuna," you said, your voice eerily calm, "this is a thirty-story building with a roof. do not test me, because i will throw you off the top."

"ooh, don't tease. you know i like them feisty."

"sukuna."

he huffed, a petulant whine escaping him. "fine."

"i need a drink," you muttered, rubbing your temples. "if i leave you alone for five seconds, will you get into a bar fight?"

he shrugged. "depends."

you were exasperated. "on what?"

again, he shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips.

"stay. or. else." you pointed a finger at him, the threat clear.

"keep talkin' dirty."

you made a face. "ew." crossing your fingers, you left him behind, heading towards the nearest bar setup. anything, really, to calm your frayed nerves.

gojo and sukuna in the same room together was a recipe for disaster. all you had to do was make it through one night, and then you'd be good.

well, until the next public relations event. but, you'd jump off that bridge when you got there.

maybe, you needed a hobby. no, that was wishful thinking. as if you had time for one. your entire world revolved around the red bull team, and keeping them in check.

you pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to will the migraine away. you didn't need kids, not really.

not when you had sukuna, that toddler in a finely tailored suit.

you practically flagged down a waiter, eagerly grabbing a sparkling water off their tray. your phone buzzed in your purse, and you assumed it was your boss, checking in on the chaos.

drink in one hand, you reached for your device, but—

thud.

your phone went flying, and your drink hit the polished floor, splashing the person in front of you.

your face heated up, and you were quick to respond. so much for sukuna being the only problem. "oh, my god, i'm so sorry! i really wasn't watching where—"

getting up from picking up your phone, they said, "aw, don't fret, babe."

your embarrassment morphed into annoyance. it was a voice you didn't have to look up to recognize.

you took a half-step back, grabbing tissues from a passing waitress. "gojo," you greeted, dryly. "my apologies."

he pouted, flashing his oh-so-charming signature grin. charming to everyone but you. "hey, now, where'd all the groveling go?"

you pressed the napkin to the damp spot on his custom tuxedo. the cold liquid seeped through his expensive fabric, a dark stain spreading across the pristine white.

you rolled your eyes at him, too agitated to be sincere. "sorry about the mess."

"you don't seem too sorry. ah, well, maybe you'd rather show than tell?" he asked, teasing.

you inhaled sharply. "not here!"

"not here? how about a nice hotel?"

one thing about both gojo and sukuna? they loved testing your patience.

"quit that! somebody might hear us."

"you never worry about that when—"

you cleared your throat, loudly, as a couple passed by. "stop acting like we're a thing. it was once. and, i don't even remember it."

you'd yet to decide whether that was a good thing or not, actually. that was the black-out part of black-out drunk. maybe not having those memories ingrained into your brain did you some good.

"well, if you ever want to relive it…" he trailed off, smiling.

"why would i ever want to?"

he laughed, boisterous. "alright, babe. your call. literally." gojo handed you your phone, and you squinted at the screen, which had his number added as a new contact.

"how—?"

"you dropped it unlocked. lucky me," he sing-songed, and you snatched it back, turning on your heel.

you only got a couple of steps forward, lowering your voice as you called back, "if i had any sanity, you know i'd delete it."

sukuna caught up with you after a few minutes, and you sighed, looking over at him. "you good?" he asked.

"never better," you exhaled, clicking your tongue.

your phone buzzed with a new notification, and you made sure you weren't obstructing anyone's path as you checked it.

well, i'm pretty good at driving you crazy.

series taglist (11/50): @jeonwiixard, @paradisestarfishh, @seizecherry, @shinycrybaby, @n1vi, @gojosoups, @poopooindamouf, @susususukanana, @sukubusss, @beereadzzz, @mia-can-yap-too. ask/comment to be added!

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