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allaboutthemoonlight · 5 months

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How to Build Self Discipline

Cultivating self-discipline is the way towards personal growth and achieving long-term goals. To me, it’s really all about making choices that honor your well-being and identity.

Understand that self-discipline is about self love and respect

It’s not about punishment or deprivation, but rather caring for yourself enough to make choices that align with your long-term well-being and goals.

You’re showing yourself the respect you deserve by honoring and committing to changes you want to make.

It’s all about recognizing your worth and having the motivation and courage to pursue what’s really best for you, even when it requires a lot of effort and decision-making.

Frame your identity in a way that includes discipline

How we act directly ties to our identities and how we believe we are. If you believe you’re a successful individual, you’ll live a life framed by confidence and determination. If you believe you’re someone who is lazy and unmotivated, you’ll struggle to find the drive to pursue your goals and aspirations.

Gaining discipline is all about acting as the person you believe you are and moving through life in a way that’s consistent with your determined identity. The key here is to try to imagine who you are at your highest self in a disciplined state of mind.

To start this, ask yourself these questions and slowly arrange your life in a way so there’s no distance between who you are now and your highest self:

What does your day look like

What do you eat

What do you wear

What does your week look like

What does your work day look like

What hobbies do you have

What’s your morning and night routine

Who are you surrounded by

What do you say yes and no to

Have systems in your life

I recently wrote a post about habits and mentioned the idea of systems versus goals. Here, I want to delve a bit deeper into that concept within the context of self-discipline.

To me, another way to truly live a disciplined life is to establish starting systems, something that will propel you past hurdles and reduce the friction that accompanies change.

Let’s say you want to improve your eating habits and cultivate discipline in consuming less sugar while incorporating more whole foods into your diet. You could begin by implementing a system of prepping healthy snacks or meals in advance at the start of each week, or however you see fit. By having these snacks readily available, you eliminate the need for decision-making, making it easier to adhere to your goal.

Anything that serves as a reminder or facilitates consistent action toward your desired outcome is a valuable system in your life.

Be okay with not doing something and embrace the mindset of small wins

This may seem paradoxical in the context of developing self-discipline, but being okay with not doing something is crucial. There are times in life when we need tough love and motivation, but there are also moments when compassion is the driving force that propels us forward.

When you don’t follow through with something, whether it’s going for a run or preparing a healthy dinner, it’s important to be okay with it. You don’t need to shame yourself or feel guilty for not taking action because that will only reinforce negative thought patterns, making it harder to create the change you desire.

Consider this: if you miss a planned run and spiral into self-criticism, you’re more likely to avoid running altogether. However, if you approach the situation with understanding and compassion, you’ll be more inclined to try again next time.

This is where small daily victories come into play. Sometimes, all we need is one small step forward to develop a new habit and maintain consistency. Whatever you're striving to improve or change, if it feels daunting, tell yourself, "Just for today, I'll do a 15-minute workout instead of the full hour," or "Just for today, I'll read 5 pages instead of the entire chapter," and celebrate these as small victories. Doing so not only helps you establish new habits but also allows you to acknowledge the progress you've made and the trust you've built within yourself.

—Luna

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sinofwriting · 1 month

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Claiming - Max Verstappen (Dark Fic)

Words: 2,231 Summary: In a world where F1 drivers can claim someone as a wife while at a race, here is Max’s version. Note(s): DARK FIC, NSFW. Reader is essentially kidnapped. I’d like to thank lovey on Ko-fi for commissioning this. I had a lot of fun writing this and oh boy did it take a turn I wasn’t expecting. Takes place in 2023. Also, once again thank you to 🦢 anon for this idea and all your thoughts! Claiming wouldn’t be a thing without you.

Charles’ Version

Masterlist | Support Me!

Since a month ago the emotion she’s felt most is confusion. From the moment a security guard and an FIA official escorted her from the grandstands to the Red Bull garage, to Max Verstappen’s drivers room. From him gently grabbing her hand and kissing the back of it, to the conference room where the FIA official explained things to her and god, she felt like she had only heard every three words, to now.

Max is the source of all her confusion, because he is confusing. He’s aggressive and dominant on track. So clearly hates press and events he’s forced to go to. If he likes you, he likes to make you laugh and make sure you're happy. He’s attentive in a way she didn’t know was possible.

As soon as they were in Monaco after the race, after he claimed her, and she fiddles with the heavy diamond ring on her finger at the thought, he had taken her to the grocery store, claiming that his fridge and pantry were empty since he’d just come home from a triple header. She hadn’t realized then but as they walked through the grocery store he had watched her closely. Watched what shelves she paused at, what brands and items she put in the cart versus the ones she made small faces at. Making a note of them all.

It wasn’t until a few days later when someone came by to drop off groceries and she saw all that all the groceries were things and brands she likes that she started to realized that it’s quietness in the grocery store, him following behind her, hadn’t been him giving her a bit of space, some grace, but rather him making notes of what she likes.

She’s unable to hide anything from him, which is even more confusing, because he doesn’t know her. Had chosen her seemingly on a whim. When she was told why she got taken his driver’s room by the FIA official, she had thought it was some sort of prank, a joke, but as three different binders had been laid out in front of her and proof of everything had been shown to her, had proved that she had been claimed, that she was now married to Max Verstappen the odd, weird, confusing reality had sunk in.

She had honestly figured as she laid awake next to Max that night that she would be just kept at his place for quick relief. Asked to undress and roll or bend over whenever he needed a quick easy fuck along with someone to keep his place clean and cooked meals in the fridge. She hadn’t expected for him to not even touch her like that.

He did however like to look at her like that. Eyes darkening, just a little narrowed as his jaw would sometimes twitch, deep breaths through his nose. But he never touched her like that which made her more confused because he did touch her.

He kissed her hand in greeting, put his hand on her lower back, would sling an arm around her waist, put his arm over her shoulders. He’d make their legs intertwine in bed or practically blanket her with his body when he didn’t have her cuddling into him, head resting on his t-shirt covered chest. Max hadn’t even tried kissing her on the lips despite clearly wanting to with the way he would sometimes stare at them as she talked.

Max Verstappen is confusing.

—

Max knows that he was supposed to claim a wife much sooner than he did. He could have done so the day of his first win, when they pulled him aside and told him that he could. He knows that’s what they wanted. They wanted him to claim a wife, to calm down, to bring a little less negative press to the sport. Luckily it was up to him to decide and there was no way in fucking hell he was claiming a wife. He made that clear in his celebrations with the team and his private words to people about how the FIA could fuck off.

He was also lucky that Red Bull backed his decision. He was their first driver since Mark Webber to get to claim a wife, the youngest in the history of the sport. The FIA couldn’t pressure him into it or punish him for not claiming anyone yet, but they could try and flaunt options for him to choose from. And they did. They did every year at nearly every race until finally the start of the 2022 season happened and there was a number one on his car.

That didn’t mean they stopped during the 2022 season, it was just significantly less than before. And now in 2023, just a few races away from winning his third championship, they hadn’t bothered him at all. The end of Monza marked them never being able to bother him again, he thinks as he watches his wife look at the clothes he had delivered for her. His now three championship trophies somewhat framing her with how she stands in front of the large couch.

They were all in her sizes, some from brands that she already had clothes from and other’s from more luxury brands that he had to be familiar with. She liked the one a lot, her fingers kept going back to the two tops from there, rubbing the fabric. He’ll have to take her to their store after COTA, he muses. The heat in Qatar had been too much for his poor wife and it had even got the better of him.

“Do you like them?” He asks, wrapping his arms around her from behind, relishing in the sharp inhale she gives, the slight sped up breathing. “I do. They are all really nice.” He presses a kiss to the top of her head, making a note to not buy her anymore hoodies, or at least buy them for himself and wear them a few times. She had worn so many of his, he figured she’d want one or two of her own, but the hoodie was the only thing her eyes and fingers had not returned to. “Good. I have some jewelry coming for you tomorrow as well.” “Oh, thank you, Max.” “Of course, vrouw.” He smirks at the way her body shivers at the Dutch word for wife.

—

It’s been nearly three months since Monza, since Max claimed her, since she became his wife. Which means it’s been three months since the last time she got off, six months since she last had sex. The sex part she can deal with, but she doesn’t think she’s gone this long without masturbating since she learned what it was and started doing it. And it feels like it’s killing her.

Because Max… Max is handsome. She’s seen tweets and things about how Max is ugly and she can’t even begin to comprehend that. He has some of the bluest eyes she’s ever seen, a nice jaw just barely covered with facial hair, slightly pouty lips and god it kills her that she hasn’t kissed them yet, kissed the freckle that rests on his top left lip. He has broad shoulders, strong arms, large hands, fingers that make her thighs press together when they tap against her hips or press into her. And his thighs. Every time she sees them, whether it’s in shorts or boxers, she can feel herself clench around nothing.

Maybe he wouldn’t affect her so much if he didn’t so clearly want her back. But he does. His eyes more and more frequently watching her, want simmering in them. And he’s never been shy about his morning wood, but instead of tilting his hips away from her, scooting away, or just adjusting her so it’s not pressed against her, now he stays. Lets her choose to move away when she feels him against her.

She never moves away, not until they absolutely have to get up.

She’s reached her limit, however. She constantly feels turned on, a warmth always burning inside of her, sometimes getting stoked to burn a little hotter and she fears that if she doesn’t get off in the next few hours she will jump Max. It’s tempting to just get to it, just lay down and fuck herself quickly, but that won’t leave her satisfied. She needs more than one quick orgasm to satisfy herself and she’s in luck because Max is leaving the house, having been invited to a paddle match.

She accepts the kiss on the cheek he gives her, wishing him good luck and then waits by the front door for a few minutes before turning and nearly rushing to the bedroom. Her arms somehow get tangled in her tank top as she pulls it off and her fingers fumble with her pajama pants and underwear as she tries to push them down. It takes longer than she wants, but finally she’s undressed. There’s an urge to fall onto the bed, but she forces it away, forces herself to take a deep breath as she goes to their closet.

Going to one of her shoe boxes, she lifts the lid, breath shaky as her fingers touch the lace of a La Perla balconette. She had never spent more than seventy dollars on a bra before Max, had privately thought people who spent more than a hundred dollars on scraps of lace and fabric were crazy but as she feels this against her fingers, she understands why people spend so much.

Her fingers are surprisingly steady as she puts on the balconette and matching panties. As she looks at herself in the mirror, hands rubbing at the body, her breath catches. She looked good, hot even. The lace against her skin making her blood rush.

She’s nearly back into the bedroom when she spots the shirt that Max had been wearing to sleep in last night. It’s just barely hanging on the edge of the hamper, about to fall on the floor. Before she can stop herself, she snags it and throws it on, breathing in the familiar and nice smell of Max.

Laying on the bed, she runs her hands over her body, eyes fluttering shut as they go under her shirt. Her breath catches as they trail over her stomach, fingers pausing at the waistband of her panties before moving back. They trace over the lace details of her top, breath catching when the tips of her fingers catch on her pebbled nipples. Moaning as she twists and pulls at them lightly, thighs pressing together.

She continues to play with her breasts, enjoying the feel of them and the lace in her hands. Drawing moans and whines from herself as she squeezes them, pinching and twisting her nipples, grazing her nipples with the tip of her finger. She’s aching for more, her panties damp. Her dominant hand leaves her breast, fingers just about to slip into her panties and there’s a hand clamping around her wrist.

Her eyes fly open, a gasp leaving her. “Max.” Her other hand drops away from her breast. His grip on her wrist tightens, eyes darker than she’s ever seen them. Her name comes out in a near growl. Her tongue darts out, swiping across her bottom lip and Max’s eyes fall to them at the motion and she breaks. “Please. Max, please.” “Please what?” She takes a shaky breath, “Touch me, kiss me. Please, Max.”

It’s like she blinks and he’s on top of her, his hand no longer gripping her wrist but instead gripping at her hip as he kisses her. She moans at the roughness of it, not even noticing him adjusting her until he’s fully in between her legs, one of them hitched around his waist. She only notices when he grinds their hips together, the friction making her break the kiss, panting as her fingers rake over his back.

“Max. Please.” “What vrouw? Am I not kissing you?” He presses a kiss to her neck, over the flutter of her pulse. “Touching you?” He rolls his hips into hers. She throws her head back at the contact. “I want,” a whine leaves her as he dips his head, running his tongue over her still lace covered nipple. “Fuck, Max.” His hand still gripping her at her hip tightens its hold and she hopes he leaves bruises. “What do you want?” “I want,” She nearly loses her train of thought again when grinds into her again. “Want you to fuck me. Please, Max, want you so bad.” He groans, head resting on her chest as he gives a slightly stuttered thrust.

The slight loss of control makes her moan, her other leg moving to wrap around him, encouraging him to grind against her. She wants him. She wants him to touch her everywhere, not leave a single place that hasn’t felt his touch. She wants to feel his breath against her lips, his teeth sinking into her skin. She wants the press of bruises as he holds her tighter than maybe he should. She wants him sinking into her over and over again even though she hasn’t felt it once yet. She wants and wants and she doesn’t think that doing this once, twice, a hundred, a thousand times, will satisfy that want.

#max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #max verstappen dark fic #max verstappen smut #f1 dark fic #f1 smut #sins fics #claiming a wife : max #claiming a wife

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infiniteglitterfall · 2 months

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I do realize this is a real niche post but I cannot tell you how many damn times over the past 10 months I've seen gentiles tell Jews some version of, "Your own holy book SAYS God doesn't want you to have a country yet!"

And it's such an incredibly blatant and weirdly specific tell that they're not part of something that grew from progressive grassroots, but something based on right-wing astroturfing.

1. Staying in your own lane is a pretty huge progressive principle.

Telling people in another group that their deity said they couldn't do X is, I think, as far as you can get from your own lane.

2. It's also very clearly Not In Your Own Lane because I've never seen anyone actually be able to EITHER quote the passage they're thinking of, OR cite where it is.

It's purely, "I saw somebody else say this, and it seemed like it would make me win the debate I wasn't invited to."

3. It betrays a complete ignorance of Jewish culture and history.

Seriously? You don't know what you're referencing, its context, or even what it specifically says, but you're... coming to a community that reads and often discusses the entire Torah together each year, at weekly services... who have massive books holding generations of debate about it that it takes 7 years to read, at one page per day....

And saying, "YOUR book told you not to!"

I've been to services where we discussed just one word from the reading the whole time. The etymology. The connotations. The use of it in this passage versus in other passages.

And then there is the famous saying, "Ask two Jews, get three opinions." There is a culture of questioning and discussion and debate throughout Judaism.

You think maybe, in the decades and decades of public discussion about whether to buy land in Eretz Yisrael and move back there; whether it should keep being an individual thing, or keep shifting to intentional community projects; what the risks were; whether it should really be in Argentina or Canada or someplace instead; how this would be received by the Jews and gentiles already there, how to respect their boundaries, how to work with them before and during; and whether ending up with a fuckton of Jews in one place might not be exactly as dangerous for them as it had always been everywhere else....

You think NOBODY brought up anything scriptural? Nobody looked through the Torah, the Nevi'im, the Ketuvim, or the Talmud for any thoughts about any of this?? It took 200 years and some rando in the comments to blow everyone's minds???

4. It relies on an unspoken assumption that people can and should take very literal readings of religious texts and use them to control others.

And a sense of ownership and power over those texts, even without any accompanying knowledge about what they say.

It's kind of a supercessionist know-it-all vibe. It reads like, "I know what you should be doing. Because even if I'm not personally part of a fundamentalist branch of a related religion, the culture I'm rooted in is."

Bonus version I found when I was looking for an example. NOBODY should do this:

There are a lot of people who pull weird historical claims like "It SAYS Abraham came from Chaldea! That's Iraq!"

Like, first of all, a group is indigenous to a land if it arose as a people and culture there, before (not because of) colonization.

People aren't spontaneously spawning in groups, like "Boom! A new indigenous people just spawned!!"

People come from places. They go places. Sometimes, they gel as a new community and culture. Sometimes, they bop around for a while and eventually assimilate into another group.

Second: THE TORAH IS NOT A HISTORY TEXTBOOK OMFG.

It's an oral history, largely written centuries after the fact.

There is a TON of historical and archaeological research on when and where the Jewish culture originated, how it developed over time, etc. It's extremely well-established.

Nobody has to try to pull what they remember from Sunday school for this argument.

#jumblr #Jewish history #hamas propaganda and fundie Christian propaganda are a terrible mix #fuck hamas #depressing discourse #wall of words

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triassictriserratops · 2 months

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Don't mind me. I'm just crying and imagining being Peeta Mellark.

Growing up being berated and abused. Being the extra mouth to feed. Not the firstborn. Not the best wrestler. Not the daughter. Not perfect. Growing up watching a hunter sing to birds. Watching him hold and love his daughters and his wife. Seeing him take time out of his mining schedule to take his daughter to her first day of school. Growing up watching a girl sing like her father. Growing up watching her her love and protect her sister fiercely. Watching her lose her song. Watching her become the hunter. Become the protector. Watching her step on a stage to protect the sister that meant everything to her. Going into a conversation with your mentor to explore what you can both do to get this girl back to her sister. Weighing the cost of your life and deciding that more will suffer if she doesn't return to her family versus your own family - which would maybe even be better off if you didn't. Deciding to put your heart on a cutting board for the whims of Capitol delight - all to use as propaganda to make this girl important to a fickle crowd. Digging your own grave and laying in the mud, waiting to die. Hoping it was all enough. Hoping she'll win, but knowing that - odds are - you'll die never knowing. Waking up to her gray eyes above you. Looking for you. Pulling you out of the earth. Saving YOU. Risking herself for YOU. Running into danger for YOU. Experiencing the same protection she so readily gives her sister. As if you MATTER. Against all odds, getting out. Surviving. Together. Being willing to die - for her or with her. But SURVIVING. Not together. Not the way you thought. It wasn't real.

#peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #everlark #thg #thg series #the hunger games #the hunger games character analysis #thg character analysis #hunger games character analysis #peeta pov #i'm NOT okay

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taurasiluvr · 3 months

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how you can help palestine

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

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

⠀ ── ⠀word count ;; 2.6k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

if you enjoyed, any interaction is greatly appreciated!

with love, rylin 𝜗𝜚

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

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