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myfictionaldreams · 1 year ago

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Day 24: Role Reversal - Mafia!Stucky

Summary: For once, you were the one shouting at the enemy, demanding that they leave your office. Steve and Bucky were in awe, so you tried to keep up this confidence and burn off some energy with them.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, threesome (f/m/m), protective, arguing, dom/sub, switch, praise kink, oral (f and m receiving), restraints, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, creampie, rough sex

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It was a highly anticipated meeting. Tension was so thick in the office that all weapons were in hands, shoulders rolled back, and eyes glared in all directions, monitoring every little movement.

This had been happening for hours, and you were split between falling asleep or losing your patience and leaving. It wasn’t like you to be in these kinds of moods either. Usually, at the start of the meeting, you’d be a trembling, anxious mess and wish to leave because the tension was too much, knowing it would end in violence or shouting. However, today, you were not in the mood for an entirely different reason; knowing who was coming to the meeting already had your blood boiling.

A gentle nudge of your foot drew your attention to the man sitting opposite you. Bucky smiled from across the table, nodding slightly to check in and make sure you were okay, which you gave him a reassuring nod and smile in return. Steve sat between you both at the head of the table, where he naturally deserved to sit, considering he was the gang's leader. Your eyes flicked to the blonde, admiring the natural look of authority that he held, his eyes staring daggers at the man opposite him, and the muscles of his shoulders bulging in the white shirt that was decorated with various harnesses to display the weapons that he knew how to use expertly, intimidating the guest.

Even though he looked dangerous, the hand holding yours on his lap was so soothing and tender that it almost made you break the facade and smile. Steve had prioritised holding your hand, hoping the touch would calm your nerves, which it did. His fingers were rough from his training and littered with various scars from his years of dangerous work, but it was familiar to you as you mixed between playing with his fingers and his reassuringly squeezing your palm. He’d even refused to shake the other man’s hand when he entered the meeting to continue to hold yours, even though it further infuriated the man who commented how unprofessional it was not to shake an opponent's hand.

Baron Strucker was as boisterous and aggravated as they come. Hot-headed and preferred to shout rather than talk as he demanded his shares of the Rogers mafia, claiming that some of the equipment he’d bought was now being sold on the black market by Steve’s gang without the financial profit being shared. The two guards that had arrived with Baron were just as aggressive, weapons out, standing tall and looking ready to fight the numerous people in the room.

As angry as Steve was beneath the skin, he remained calm, choosing not to lose his level-headed thinking and stay in control of the situation, proving his superiority as a leader over Baron. Bucky, his right-hand man, was similar with his calmness, but with the muscle ticking in his jaw, you knew he was struggling to remain in his seat, especially the tone that was being used towards his boss, boyfriend and best friend Steve, he was slowly losing his patience.

During these moments with the gang, you were truly reminded of just how dangerous they both were and the line of work they both were involved in and now, so were you. It was hard to compare the men you’d woken up to this morning, adoring and making your life wholly fulfilled with love and affection, were the same that were probably contemplating murdering the man across the table.

You were squeezing Steve’s hand as you reminisced about the morning, using the moment to distract from the shouting in the room that you were now blankly staring at. Steve returned the affection but dragged the pad of his thumb against the back of your hand, which helped to settle the butterflies swirling in your stomach.

Someone shifting their weight behind you also caught your attention, reminding you that Sam Wilson, your best friend and bodyguard, was standing behind your chair. You were surrounded by protection as to your right sat Natasha, her eyes unblinking as she stared viciously at the enemy, her fingers twitching in her lap to throw the knife strapped to her leg.

“We had a deal. I’ve held my end of it, give you everything I have, and I’ve had nothing from you! How the fuck is that fair? That’s not what I signed up for”. Baron’s shout rang in your ears, causing you to close your eyes to try not to flinch from the piercing sound.

Steve leaned forward in his chair, calm yet authoritative as ever, as the room watched him closely. With a lot of restraint, he began to list all the ways in which the Rogers mafia has provided Stucker with their ends of the deal with financial benefits, customers and more.

You pondered over everything Steve was stating, but he failed to mention one thing that you had contemplated and something that Baron had just so happened not to talk about either. Your eyes flicked between Bucky and Steve to see if they might have remembered it, possibly hinting that you had something to say without cutting off Steve, but neither looked in your direction for once. You thought about speaking up, but everyone's attention on you had your insides twisting with sickness.

They were hyper-focused on the pacing man at the other end of the table, who was more furious with each passing second. The longer Baron Strucker ranted, not taking any accountability and blaming everything on Steve, the more your blood began to boil. Your face and chest warmed, eyebrows furrowing as your jaw clenched with as much fiercness as Bucky’s. You wanted to scream in his face, shake him for missing out on the crucial detail that he seemed to be dancing around, and you couldn’t take it anymore, the anger giving you the confidence and anger to intervene in his shouts finally.

“You’re thieves! A scam of a gang. I don’t understand how you’ve managed to reach the level of fame that you have here in Brooklyn. You’re all going down the drain. No one is going to trust you again because as soon as I get out of this office, I’m going to tell everyone what a bunch of shit you all are-”

“What about your container of goods by the coast?” Your voice was firm and louder than you’d expected it to be. You were so riled up that you’d removed your hand from Steve’s, needing to clench your fists in your lap as you stared at the man without fear, even though you could feel everyone’s eyes now on you.

“What?” Strucker snaps his head towards you like he had forgotten you were in the room. His beady little eyes devoured your body as if he was sizing you up. Still, with a simple scoff, you knew he deemed you no threat. The look had Steve and Bucky adjusting in their seats and the other gang members in the room who prepared their stances to match those of their leader, Steve and his second-in-command.

For once, you were braced, not letting his scoff throw your confidence. “The shipment by the coast? You’ve not mentioned it, and wasn’t that the whole reason for this deal in the first place? Why haven’t you discussed it today? What happened to the goods you were supposed to provide us with?”

Baron stopped midstep, swallowing thickly, giving himself a second to adjust his frame before the aggression came back, directing it towards you instead as he pointed his meaty finger in your direction. “I see your little game, trying to change the subject from your mistakes. I’m not falling for it, and you have to deal with the consequences of your actions. This good-for-nothing gang-”

“No!” you once more cut off his rambling, “I think it’s you who is changing the subject. Answer me now: where are the goods?” Your eyes were burning with how hard you were staring at him, with all your spite and anger, a slight tremor settling in your body as you struggled to keep your emotions to a minimum.

“You don’t get to talk to me like that!”

It was your turn to scoff at the atrocities coming out of Baron’s mouth as you began to calm your voice so that you weren’t shouting and instead reigned in the power of authority. “Yes, I do. I am as high up in this gang as Bucky. You’re in my building with my gang. I can speak to you however the fuck I like. Now, answer my question or get the fuck out. Where is this shipment?”

His silence was your answer enough, so you decided to put the final nail in his coffin. “So you’ve sold them to someone else, and you think you can come here and threaten us? You’re lucky you aren’t dead right now, so here’s what will happen. You’ll collect your dirt shit friends here, turn around and walk out of this building. And you know what? I’ll throw you a bone, we won’t say a word about your failed partnership, but if we hear even a whisper that you’ve talked shit about my gang, there will be nowhere you can hide on this planet that’ll stop us from getting to you and everyone you love. Now get the fuck out!”

You don’t look away from him, you don’t back down, you continue to hold his gaze and watch as he opens his mouth repeatedly like a fish, and when he looks like he’s found his words, they’re swiftly cut off as the woman next to you was out of her seat in a blink of an eye, holding her knife to his neck. “You heard the boss; it’s time for you to go”, Natasha instructs with her silky voice.

His mouth shuts as he backs away, still glaring but not having the guts to say what he wants as the other crew members follow him out. A few of the Rogers mafia escorted them out of the property.

Sam speaks first as he rests his hands on your shoulders, still taunted with tension. “Please mind my language when I say, holy fucking shit. I didn’t think you had it in you, Boss Lady; that was badass!”

Finally releasing the pent-up energy, you shout in rage, rubbing your hands down your face before pushing the chair back, thankful that Sam quickly stepped out of your way as you began to do your pacing. “He’s such an asshole! I don’t even know why we agreed to do any sort of work with him in the first place!” Your red stiletto heels click against the floor dramatically as you try to shake your hands to dispel the anger still raging inside your body.

From the corner of your eye, you saw that Steve silently nodded his head towards the door, indicating for everyone else to leave, which they did without hesitation, leaving you, Steve and Bucky alone.

The brunette was the first to stand, the clip of his expensive shoes just as loud on the ceramic flooring as Bucky unbuttons his suit jacket. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen, Hot Mama”.

You stop walking abruptly, turning to him with a quizzical look, but your eyes are drawn to the evidence of his obvious arousal, the thick outline of his erection down his left pant leg. Your body is warming for a different reason now; as you state, “I have so much energy right now, I feel like I could run a marathon. I understand why you both fuck so hard when you’re in a mood”.

Bucky’s knowing smirk captures your attention now, the heat spiking in your core with a noticeable throb. Steve stands, his chair scrapping along the floor with his sudden movement.

Steve’s looking at you the same way Bucky is. As if they knew you were thinking something you weren’t entirely sure what, as the only thing on your mind right now was getting rid of the pent-up energy you held whilst also trying not to slip into the submissive ways that you always did, especially seeing how turned on both your boyfriends were from seeing you in this dominant, headstrong persona.

Steve stands tall, his hands lazily in his pockets as he admires you slowly up and down with his crystal blue eyes. “We tell you all the time to use us, so use us. Get that energy out. Tell us what you want us to do. If it’s going for a run, we can do that. If you want a hard fuck, you know we can do that too.”

No amount of money would make you pick going for a run right now as you stared between Steve and Bucky. Two powerful men, ready to do whatever you wished so you rolled your shoulders back, straightened your posture and demanded, “Strip. Take off your clothes”.

Bucky bites his lips seductively as he prepares to slowly remove his clothes, beginning with his jacket and the endless weapons attached to himself. Steve, on the other hand, started by removing his black tie, which you promptly held your hand out for, deciding you could use this later.

Watching them both doing exactly as you’d instructed was exhilarating, even if it was a simple act. Only moments ago, the room was full of influential people, a fight potentially about to begin, and now you’re watching each beautiful body part of two of the most dangerous men in Brooklyn strip naked.

You were hardly breathing by the time they stood before you, their impressive bodies on display as they waited for their next instructions with their hands behind their backs and cocks proudly hard. You couldn’t help yourself as you touched the tip of Steve’s and admired how it throbbed as his abs flexed and he tensed.

“Did it really make you that turned on to see me like that?” you asked, needing to hear him say it.

Steve’s eyes admired you with a tantalizingly slow look up and down, “You have no fucking idea”.

Even though your insides seemed to somersault with excitement, you tried to remain in control of the situation. Holding up the black tie in front of Bucky, you asked him, “Tie up Steve’s hands behind his back and make sure that he can’t get out”.

Bucky did as instructed without questioning and worked his magic, ensuring the knot was secure enough that Steve wouldn’t be able to easily wriggle out of the restraint unless he ripped the material in half. Seeing Steve standing there, with his arms behind his back and both following instructions to perfection, made you feel powerful.

Your eyes observed Bucky, who had stood next to Steve, waiting patiently for whatever you had to say. “Can I trust you to keep your hands behind your back?” Bucky grins, showing his straight teeth as he nods his head in answer, moving his hands behind his back and circling the metal fingers around his flesh wrist, keeping it locked in place.

“Good boy”, you say without thinking and wishing to praise him in some way and to your delight, his cock visibly throbbed as the Adam’s apple of his throat bobbed with his moan. The corner of your lip tilted upwards with excitement at this fact as you stepped towards him, stroking the tips of your fingers down his firm chest. “Do you like it when I call you that?”

“I think I do”, he responds with an edge of gruffness to his voice, like the arousal coursing through him had affected him so much already.

There were so many things that you could do with both of them right now. The first that came to mind was dropping to your knees and servicing them both, but you were enjoying the power too much and seeing the lust in their eyes; you were ready to use this to your advantage.

Taking a step away from them both, you crept over to the seat at the head of the table, trying to use the confidence to glide through your body still and maintain the dominant persona, at least for as long as you could. You eyed up Steve’s seat, easing it away from the table before sitting in it and spreading your legs so the dress hiked up your thighs until they both had a view of naked cunt, for once thankful you’d gone without any underwear today. “Well, why don’t you both be good boys and come and eat me out?”.

With impressive speed, Steve and Bucky were dropping to their knees in front of the seat, the colour of their eyes impressively darkened with hunger, tongues wetting their lips in anticipation. Gripping the back of your thighs, your legs spread wider for them, trying to make room for both of their faces.

It was difficult with the lack of space and their hulking shoulders shoving against each other so they could both have their feast. This only made you feel more powerful, to see them quietly arguing with each other to try and pleasure you, which only made their licks and sucks more enthusiastic. They were sloppy, saliva and pussy juice coating their faces and your thighs as they each tried to push their tongues into your cunt. Everything was warm, wet and pleasurable, especially as Steve lapped at your clit as Bucky tongued your hole.

You couldn’t keep your eyes off them, hungry for both of them, knowing that you could ask for possibly anything and they would be willing to do it, even in the middle of the office. Having both of them on you simultaneously was also very overstimulating, as they seemed to be touching you everywhere at the same time. You were clenching and withering beneath them before you could even think to moan either of Steve or Bucky’s names, the orgasm stealing your breath away.

Steve sucked as Bucky licked through your orgasm until you had to release the bruising grip on your thigh so that you could close your legs, pushing them back. Trying to catch your breath, you stared between them. Both their handsome faces were flushed, chins and cheeks drenched and glistening, eyes glazed with hunger and arousal, still sitting on their knees with hands behind their backs.

You were surprised they’d not yet freed their restrained hands and taken over. The two of them were dominant down to their very bones, so for them to not switch things around and bend you over the table and fuck you until you’d orgasmed multiple times, it was a surprise they were still going along with you being in control.

“Bucky”, standing from your chair, you cupped the chin of the boyfriend you’re addressing, “sit in this chair”. He does as instructed as you walk behind him and the chair, your fingers massaging his shoulders and chest as you dip to kiss the column of his neck. Looking over your body, you admired the thick cock that was begging to be touched, and then there was Steve, who also was admiring Bucky’s dick.

“You’ve both been so good for me, following my instructions. Here’s what is going to happen. I want Stevie to suck Bucky off until I tell him to stop. Does that sound good with you, Buckaroo?”

The face you were kissing nodded quickly and enthusiastically. Bucky’s eyes were wide with anticipation and awe as he watched his boss and superior, especially in the workplace, on his knees and ready to pleasure him.

Bucky sucks in a deep breath through his nose as Steve begins to lick up his shaft, holding intense eye contact before taking him fully into his mouth.

You walk around the two of them, making sure your heels are unnecessarily loud with the steps so they are aware of where you are at all times; even when Bucky’s eyes are closed, his head turns ever so slightly with your actions, like he was monitoring where you were.

Every so often, you’d run your fingers over their shoulders or through their hair. The touches caused shivers to run through their beefy bodies, and you tried not to grin at the little reactions you could easily pull from them.

“Doing so good, Steve, I can tell Bucky’s getting close. Keep going. I don’t think I’m ready for you to stop just yet”.

“Ah, fuck!” Bucky grunted, hips thrusting up as his head tipped back, falling into the depths of his pleasure and the skills of Steve’s beautiful mouth.

Only when you could see Bucky’s breaths coming fast, his mouth dropping open with no restraints for his moans, did you decide to intervene, knowing he was close to cumming. Scraping your nails through Steve’s hair, you grabbed a hand full and tugged, forcing Steve’s mouth off the cock.

Bucky whimpered from the loss of the tongue and sucking. “Now, now, Bucky. You’ve had your share, don’t be so selfish.” Lowering your mouth to Steve’s ear, you whispered, “Sit back, Steve”.

With an easy roll, Steve is sitting on his arse on the cold floor, and you are instantly on him, straddling over his thick thighs, hands cupping his cheeks and kissing him hungrily. You moaned at the taste of Bucky’s cock on his lips and the noise of Steve’s tie straining from where Steve was pulling on it but stopping himself from ripping it apart.

You still had so much energy you needed to get out, and Steve had been so good for you that he deserved a reward. Rolling your hips, your cunt pulsed with desire as his cock slipped between your folds and nudged your clit. Slipping a hand between your bodies and lifting onto your knees, you lined Steve up and slowly sat down his length.

“You always fill me up so good”, you praise him, returning to cupping his cheeks as you kiss him passionately, rolling your hips and down with heavy slaps. He was so deep and stretched your walls to perfection.

Your knees were aching, and maybe you were used to being the one without the control, but this position was hard to fuck with the full potential. You wanted to hold control but didn’t want to do any of the work, so with a sly smile and biting Steve’s bottom lip, you decided to switch it up.

“If I undo your hands, I’m still in control. Only for today, do you understand?” you asked, mind grinding your hips.

Steve moaned and desperately nodded his head, “Yes! Fuck yes, you’re in charge, baby”.

“Good. I want you to pick me up and fuck me on the desk”. Whilst still trying to fuck him, you reached around him and pulled on the end of the tie, thankful that Bucky had managed to tie it in such a way that it was easy to undo. The material loosened around Steve’s wrists, and within a blink of an eye, his strong arms were under your hips as he lifted the two of you from the floor.

The table’s cool surface made you gasp, but then he was fucking you, his face hiding in your neck as your hands gripped his back for support, nails digging in and leaving crescent-shaped indents.

“Ah! Yes!” you shouted as Steve fucked with nothing holding him back, and even though he was the one on top of you, you could still feel the powerful of telling him what to do, knowing that if you asked him to sit on the floor and wait, he would do precisely that.

Every stroke of his cock, pounded into your cunt with a wet gush of your fluids, helping to soften the sensation. He felt so intense you were sure if you put your hand on your lower belly, you’d be able to feel the tip of his cock prodding deep within.

You were already sensitive from their mouths so you came after only a couple of minutes, the fire burning and pulsing so thoroughly throughout your body that you were sure everyone in the building could hear your pleasured screams.

Steve didn’t stop because you hadn’t ordered him to do anything other than fuck you. “That’s it, keep going, don’t stop!” You were being selfish, but you didn’t care one little bit.

Turning your head away from Steve, you looked at Bucky, who looked like he would combust on the spot. A thick dribble of precum was stringing from his thigh to his tip, and the veins in his temple were bulging as he kept himself sitting on the brink of an orgasm whilst still sitting in the chair.

“Bucky, as soon as Steve finishes, I want you to come over and fuck me”.

Hearing the next instruction, Steve’s hands held onto your thighs for more leverage and fucked you hard until cumming with an ultimate groan that vibrated deep through his chest. You sighed at the warmth soaking your hole, but you didn’t have time to process this as Bucky pushed away Steve, and your other boyfriend was filling you.

Bucky’s hands were on you, one on your hip and the other on your chest, holding you down as he fucked into you relentlessly. You didn’t have the energy to tell him off or order him to do anything different. Not when he was fucking you so hard that you were thankful for the table being drilled to the floor so you were sure it would have toppled over by now.

“That’s it, Bucky, you’ve been so good for me, just like that”. The praise seemed to trigger something in him as he goes crazy. Your body was trembling and aching with the efforts of keeping up with his thrusts. You came again, gushing and moaning as all you could do was hold onto his shoulders.

“Doll- I’m gonna cum- so deep-!” Bucky cried out as he smacked his cock in as deep as it would go, his body shaking as his cock emptied his cum, making in with the remaining of Steve’s. Bucky collapsed onto your chest, both trying to catch your breath.

Your eyes were closed as Steve began to speak next to your head. He’d walked around the table, so he was looking down at you and Bucky from above as he caressed the side of your cheek. “Could you do me a favour? Firstly, please can you shout at assholes more often. And two, please tell us what to do because I could have come just from you telling me to take my clothes off”.

With all the energy drained from your body, you quickly slipped into the submissive state you were usually in, wishing to hide your face into Bucky’s neck but keeping a mental note as to how you could use this to your advantage in the future.

#mafia!stucky #mafia au #stucky smut #stucky x reader #steve rogers #bucky barnes #bucky #steve rogers smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #marvel smut #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #mine*

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geekgirl-1717 · 2 months ago

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sanji x reader. 2.5k words. spoilers for zou/whole cake island. fem! reader, no use of (y/n). angst no comfort :)

“i promise i’ll be back.”

it wasn’t uncommon for you and your crewmates to end up in unusual situations, but this was too much to handle. there was so much to process that you weren’t sure what to focus on first.

vinsmoke? wedding invitation? big mom? the situation was becoming more and more confusing by the second, and you could only watch helplessly as sanji became more and more distraught. you don’t think you had ever seen sanji so beside himself, and it made your heart hurt in a way that was hard to explain.

you weren’t sure when your feelings for sanji had bloomed into something more than just a friendship between fellow crewmates. at first, sanji treated you the same way as any other woman who so much as looked his way: doting and flamboyant and perhaps a bit obsessive. though sometimes endearing, his extravagant displays of affection and sugar-coated soliloquies of praise often struck you as superficial.

you always felt there was more to sanji, something authentic and vulnerable buried deep beneath his womanizing facade. it intrigued you from the moment you first met him, and after you joined the strawhats, you endeavored to uncover this hidden side to the chef.

you started spending more time in the kitchen, making casual conversation with sanji and watching him cook. initially, he kept up his loverboy antics around you, much to your chagrin. you could hardly say a word to him without sending him into a spinning, swirling mess of exaltations.

but with enough patience and gentle coaxing, sanji began to slowly open up to you. it started with simple anecdotes he shared while cooking. the story of the first time he ever made a particular dish. the origin of a certain recipe. a fond memory of his time at baratie. you cherished any and every tidbit of information he shared with you.

from there, your bond with the chef only grew stronger. upon arriving on a new island, instead of shopping with nami and robin or exploring with luffy and usopp, you would help sanji with food and supply runs, browsing local markets and searching for exciting new ingredients. watching sanji in the kitchen turned into helping him wash dishes turned into him offering to teach you how to cook.

these cooking lessons were the first hint that your relationship with sanji was developing into something more, something new and exciting and terrifying all at once. you felt your cheeks heat up whenever sanji would stand behind you while you chopped herbs or vegetables, placing his hands over yours to guide your movements and mumbling encouraging compliments in your ear no matter how rough and uneven your cuts were. when sampling something you made, he would always give you a beaming smile, patting your head and complimenting your work in such a genuine manner, it made your stomach flip. you pushed these feelings aside, not wanting to ruin this delicate friendship you’d worked so hard to form, but it was getting harder and harder to hide your affection for sanji with each passing day.

upon returning to sabaody after the two-year long separation, you quickly realized something had changed between you and sanji, something you struggled to put into words. of course, all of your crewmates had changed during that time, accruing new skills and stories and battle scars to bring into the new world. and you were no different. you had spent the bittersweet time apart from your crew getting stronger and honing your talents to ensure you could always help your friends and your captain, no matter how terrifying a threat you faced.

you had nearly tackled sanji in a spine-crushing hug the first time you saw him again, squeezing your eyes shut and burying your face into the crook of his neck to hide the joyful tears that threatened to spill down your cheeks. you were immediately enveloped in the familiar scent of nicotine and cologne, and for the first time in two years, you felt truly at ease.

sanji was shocked initially, but allowed himself to sink into your embrace, returning the hug with equal fervor and running a soothing hand up and down your back. it was only after you composed yourself that you were able to notice just how much sanji had changed.

you pulled back from his grasp to fully take him in. he was taller, you noted, and the scruff on his chin had grown into a full, neatly-kept goatee. his hair was a tad longer, and you noticed he’d changed the way he parted his bangs. though mostly hidden from sight under the many layers of his suit, you could tell as you’d clung to him that he had gotten stronger, his lean torso now solid with sinew and muscle. you had always found sanji to be charming in a boyish way, lanky and wiry with soft, round cheeks that looked so squishable (not that you would ever say that out loud).

standing before you was no longer a boy, but a man, chiseled and toned and finally having grown into those long, powerful legs of his. the word “adorable” had often come to mind when you thought about sanji before, but that word no longer did him justice. now, he was strikingly handsome.

that notion pulled you from your thoughts, a flush spreading across your cheeks when you realized you’d been standing there for gods know how long, blatantly ogling sanji as you appraised his appearance. luckily, he seemed to be stuck in a trance of his own, looking you up and down and admiring all the ways your appearance had changed since you last saw each other.

you both had the decency to look somewhat ashamed when you finally locked eyes again, realizing what the two of you had just been doing.

from that point on, everything was different. you could dice an onion or peel a potato with ease, but sanji always insisted on helping you, pressing his chest against your back and brushing against your sides as his hands moved to gently wrap around your own. these once-harmless touches were more deliberate, lingering just a second too long. you weren’t even listening to his instructions anymore, distracted by his hot breath against your ear and wishing you could hear his whispered praises for more than just your vegetable-cutting skills.

with many of the great adventures the crew had came many experiences you wished you could forget, and unfortunately nightmares were becoming a more common occurrence for you. on those nights when you knew sanji was on watch duty, you instinctively sought his presence. he always welcomed you with open arms, pulling you close to his chest to protect you from the chilly night air and the terrifying images that plagued your weary mind. the smell of cigarette smoke once bothered you, but now it was one of your favorite scents, mingled with hints of spices and cologne in a blend that was so uniquely sanji. whether it was a snack, reassuring words, or just a warm blanket with a warmer hug, sanji would give you whatever you needed and more.

you never said anything about your feelings for sanji and if he felt the same way about you, he was similarly silent. for months, the two of you had been like celestial bodies, pulled in by the weight of your attraction and perpetually orbiting around each other, never wanting to get too close in fear of a catastrophic collision ruining this perfectly-orchestrated dance.

and now, you were losing him.

you started panicking, unable to remain calm for sanji’s sake anymore. you pulled at your restraints, the metal chains rattling and clanking loudly against each other. your voice was shaky and strained, but you couldn’t stop the frantic pleas that came pouring out of your mouth.

“sanji, please. i don’t- i don’t know what’s going on or what they’re telling you, but please.”

you knew you sounded utterly pathetic, but you couldn’t help yourself. you saw sanji’s shoulders tense before he stood up from the table.

when you finally saw the look on his face, tears poured from your eyes in earnest. he was smiling, but it was a sad, empty smile, like he was trying to convince you everything was alright even though you both knew it wasn’t. his gaze held a swirling hurricane of emotions; guilt, regret, hesitancy, bitter resolve, and… tenderness? love? you didn’t know.

the clanking of chains grew louder as you struggled harder against your bonds, uncaring of the strain it was putting on your wrists. the words were spilling out of you like vomit, fast and jumbled and out of control.

“sanji. sanji, it’s okay. it doesn’t matter- it doesn’t matter what they’re telling you. d-don’t listen to them. we’ll help you! we’re your friends! i-we care about you. we’ll fight whoever we need to fight! just please! please don’t leave.”

you’d been nearly shouting, but the last sentence came out quiet and soft, quiet enough that sanji may not have heard you had he not been slowly making his way over to you during all of your rambling. that sad smile never left his face as he kneeled down in front of you.

one hand came up to stroke your cheek, futilely brushing away the tears that wouldn’t stop flowing. he leaned in so his forehead was pressing against yours, whispering so that only you could hear him.

“i’m so sorry, love.”

you hardly had time to process his words before he pressed his lips against yours.

the kiss was gentle, chaste and pure and perhaps a little hesitant at first, as though he were afraid you would pull back at any moment.

but you didn’t.

tears still streaming down your cheeks, you reciprocated as best you could, pouring all of your unspoken devotion and affection for sanji into the kiss.

suddenly, everything fell away around you. the fire-tank pirates were letting out groans of discontent, intermingled with the shocked gasps of your crewmates next to you. you heard none of it. as far as you knew, you and sanji were the only two people in the world right now.

sanji was always so selfless, putting the needs of his friends above his own and bending over backwards to fulfill any request given to him. but in this one moment, he was greedy. his hand slipped down from your cheek to the back of your neck, tilting your head slightly and kissing you like it was the last thing he would ever do on this earth. the sharp taste of menthol mixed with the saltiness of tears as you moved your lips against sanji’s, savoring every second of the kiss and dreading the inevitable moment when you would be forced apart.

“kissing another woman right before your wedding? vinsmoke, you dog!”

bege’s voice cut through the stunned silence that had permeated the room, replacing it with raucous laughter and jeers.

as if snapped back into reality, sanji reluctantly pulled away, giving you one last sad smile before turning his attention to the rest of your crewmates next to you.

you knew he was saying something to them, slipping some piece of paper into nami’s pocket and apologizing for how he’d hid all this from the crew. you couldn’t care less, though. you would gladly get caught in a web of lies spun by sanji if it meant you could be with him.

sanji pulled you and your crewmates into his arms, giving you all a final embrace. you wished you could tear off your chains if only to hold him one last time, but you settled for burying your face in his shoulder, basking in the smell of cigarettes and spices and cologne you’d grown to love so much.

it seemed the universe couldn’t allow you even the briefest of indulgences as you were ripped from your reverie, a sudden feeling of weightlessness shocking your senses. you and your crewmates had been sent flying, hurtling out of the strange entity that was capone bege’s body.

everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. you wouldn’t be surprised if the earth itself had stopped spinning in that moment. you were able to make out sanji’s expression in extraordinary detail. it was as if your mind knew this could be the last time you ever saw him, and you wanted to commit his every feature to memory.

he wore a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, one that you could tell was fake even if you hadn’t already seen him smile a hundred times before. it was nothing like the way he smiled while he was cooking for the crew, easy and contented and in his element. it was nothing like the way he smiled at you when you proudly displayed the dish you’d made under his guidance, toothy and beaming as the corners of eyes crinkled with joy.

it was nothing like the way he smiled when it was just the two of you in the crow’s nest late at night, gentle and loving and full of so much that was left unspoken.

no, now sanji’s smile was shallow, empty. his words were somehow even more hollow as they reached your ears.

“i promise i’ll be back. tell everyone i said hi.”

liar.

you’d didn’t even try to brace yourself as you hit the ground with a dull thud, now back in the forest of zou. your crewmates were talking worriedly around you, trying to make sense of what had just happened, but you couldn’t make out what they were saying.

your tears had all dried up now. you stared at the sky with an empty gaze. the chains were still digging into your skin, but even the insistent press of the harsh metal couldn’t compare to the anguish in your heart. sanji’s last words to you played over and over in your mind like a broken record, each rendition making your chest ache further and further.

“i promise i’ll be back.”

liar.

#reader insert #fanfic #one piece #one piece fanfiction #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #one piece x reader #sanji #one piece sanji #sanji x you #vinsmoke sanji x reader #angst #angst no comfort #I finally got to zou/whole cake and this scene made me cry so I must share my sadness with everyone :)#consistent post formatting? what’s that?

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oceandolores · 5 months ago

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 4

Dbf! Joel Miller x female reader

"𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘴,"

summary: life has been perfect, just you and him, but the shadows of both of you and Joel's past has been haunting you again...

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, ped0ph!l1a, cann1bal!sm, human traff1ck1ng, r4p3, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 4

masterlist of the series

previous | chapter 3

next | chapter 5

The sun seemed to shine a bit brighter these days, casting a warm glow over your life since Joel had become more involved in it. His presence brought a newfound sense of safety and comfort, not just for you but for him as well. Joel, once a cold and distant figure, began to soften, melting into a warmer, more open person whenever you were around. It was as if the world belonged to just the two of you, and the bond you shared illuminated both your lives in profound ways.

Joel was now a regular at church, attending Sunday services and every fellowship event with renewed purpose. His participation didn't go unnoticed, especially by Tommy, Ellie, and Maria, who observed the positive changes in him. Joel still remained a man of few words, guarded and cautious, but your presence had undeniably brought a light into his life, guiding him out of the shadows.

For you, Joel became the protector you desperately needed. Whenever your father’s temper flared, you could escape to Joel, finding solace in his arms. He calmed your storms, just as you eased his burdens, becoming each other's anchor. You often sneaked out together to the lake or climbed into the back of Joel’s truck to gaze at the stars. Those moments felt like the world stood still, with only the two of you and the infinite sky. Joel found himself no longer lost in the darkness; instead, he had found his light in you.

However, you both had to maintain a facade, keeping your relationship discreet to avoid the prying eyes of the community. Sneaking out, lying to your father about being at a friend's house, and stolen moments of intimacy became part of your routine. While you hadn't taken your relationship to a sexual level due to your trauma from Jamie, the nights spent cuddling, kissing, and talking were enough for Joel. Though he sometimes felt the stirrings of desire, he respected your boundaries, focusing instead on the depth of your connection.

Joel sometimes took you out of town, exploring Austin or Houston. You visited night markets, played in arcades, and strolled through bustling streets. Joel despised arcades, but the sound of your laughter and the sight of your carefree smile made every annoying game worthwhile. Every time you smiled, it was as if a sunbeam pierced through the clouds in Joel's heart, warming a place he had thought forever cold.

"Got another project comin' up," Joel said one evening as you sat together in his truck, overlooking the hills. "A big one. Tommy thinks it's too much work for the crew we got, but I reckon we can handle it."

"Tell me more about it," you prompted, even though construction details often went over your head. You loved hearing Joel talk about his work; the passion in his voice made you feel closer to him.

"It's an office building downtown. Gonna be a challenge because we gotta keep the old facade. Means a lotta careful demolition, precision work. Gotta bring in some new folks, too, ones who know their way around older structures."

You nodded, trying to visualize it. "Sounds complicated."

"It is," he admitted, a touch of pride in his voice. "But we got a good team. Tommy's been talkin' to some contractors. We need people who can do the job right, you know? Can’t afford any mistakes."

"I believe you can do it," you said earnestly. "You’re amazing at what you do."

He chuckled softly. "You’re sweet." Joel's hand reached up, his rough fingers gently caressing your chin. His touch was like a warm breeze on a chilly evening, comforting and electrifying at the same time. Joel’s gaze held yours, his brown eyes deep and intense, like molten chocolate, filled with something you couldn’t quite decipher but felt deeply within your soul.

Every touch, every look from him, made you melt. It was as if you were a snowflake landing on a sun-warmed pavement, vanishing into a pool of warmth under the intensity of his presence. You giggled, the sound light and musical, breaking the silence.

"What?" you asked, a smile playing on your lips.

Joel shook his head slowly, his smile spreading across his face, tender and genuine. "Nothin', darlin'," he said, his voice calm, gentle, and sincere.

Joel couldn’t fully grasp his feelings, but being with you made him feel alive in a way he hadn't in years. He knew this might be wrong, but it felt so good, like a burst of sunlight through storm clouds, casting colors on a world that had been grey for too long. Ever since Sarah and his wife had passed, his life had been a landscape painted in shades of grief and loss. Ellie had brought back some light, but what he felt with you was different, something more vivid, more profound.

His world had been a desolate canvas, splashed with only the darkest hues. But you were the burst of color, the brush of a vibrant dawn, illuminating the shadows that had consumed him. You were his beacon, guiding him from the darkness, painting his existence with the brightest of shades. And though it scared him, it also filled him with a warmth and a hope he hadn’t dared to feel in a long time.

***

After school, you found yourself in the familiar warmth of the kitchen, the comforting scent of vanilla and sugar filling the air. Your mother, in her element, was bustling around, gathering ingredients for a cake and cookies.

"Can you grab the eggs from the fridge, sweetheart?" she asked, her voice gentle.

You nodded, reaching into the refrigerator. As you handed her the carton, her hand brushed against your back, right where the still-healing bruises were. You flinched, unable to hide the sharp intake of breath.

Your mother's eyes widened, guilt flashing across her face. "I'm so sorry. Does..does it still...um hurt?" she asked softly, her voice trembling slightly.

You forced a smile, shaking your head. "No, Mama, it's okay. It's getting better."

She hesitated, her eyes lingering on you with a mixture of worry and sorrow. "I know I haven't... I haven't done enough to protect you," she said, her voice breaking. "I'm so sorry for that. I'm just... I’m so afraid of your father."

You placed a hand on her arm, trying to offer some comfort. "Mama, it's alright. I understand. Let's just focus on the baking, okay?"

Your mother nodded, her relief palpable. She turned back to the counter, trying to regain her composure. "So, have you noticed how Joel’s been coming to church more often lately?"

You tensed slightly at the mention of Joel, careful to keep your expression neutral. "Yeah, I noticed."

Your mother smiled, though it was tinged with curiosity. "You know, he’s changed a lot over the years. He used to be so different when Sarah and his wife were alive."

You couldn't help but feel a pang of curiosity. You knew bits and pieces about Joel’s past but had never heard the full story. "What was he like back then?"

"Joel was a wonderful father and husband. He adored Sarah and Jane," your mother said, her eyes softening with nostalgia. "Jane and I were good friends. They were high school sweethearts, you know. Joel got Jane pregnant in high school, and they got married right after graduation. He worked so hard to provide for them."

You listened intently as your mother spoke, the rhythm of her words blending with the sounds of baking—mixing bowls clinking, the oven humming softly. Joel had never brought up his past daughter and wife when he was with you. It was as if a part of his heart was still locked away, guarded against the pain of revisiting those memories. You felt a mixture of sadness and curiosity, wishing he would open up to you but understanding his need to protect himself from that pain.

As your mother continued, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Joel’s heart was still closed off, like a house with the windows shuttered, sunlight struggling to seep through the cracks. "After they died, Joel was never the same," your mother said softly, her voice carrying the weight of her memories. "He isolated himself, barely spoke to anyone. He stopped coming to church, buried himself in work and alcohol. It was like the light went out of him."

You continued to bake, your hands moving automatically as you processed your mother's words. The more you learned, the more you understood the layers of grief and resilience that made up the man you had come to care for so deeply.

"Did you know his wife well?" you asked, curious about the woman who had once been such a significant part of Joel’s life. You felt a twinge of jealousy, knowing that Joel had once opened his heart fully to another woman, something he hadn't done with you yet.

Your mother nodded, her smile tinged with sadness. "Yes, she was one of my closest friends. Jane was kind and loving, always had a smile on her face. They were perfect together. Losing her was a blow Joel never really recovered from."

You felt a pang in your chest, imagining the life Joel had once had—a life filled with love and happiness that was abruptly shattered. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel empathy for him, understanding the depth of his loss and the strength it took for him to keep going.

Your mind swirling with thoughts. Joel had been through so much, yet he found the strength to care for Ellie and, in his own way, for you. He was like a fortress, strong and unyielding, yet vulnerable to the storms that battered him.

Your mother’s voice brought you back to the present. "Since he adopted Ellie, he's shown glimpses of the old Joel. But he still struggles. He’s still grumpy and distant. It was as if he built a wall around himself, shutting out the world to avoid more pain."

You couldn’t help but feel a surge of empathy for Joel. He had been through so much, yet he found a way to care for you and Ellie. "And now he's starting to come back to church," your mother said softly.

"It's good to see him more involved again. He deserves some happiness."

You smiled, though your heart was heavy with the knowledge of what you shared with Joel. "Yeah, he does," you agreed, hoping that somehow, against all odds, you could both find the happiness you deserved.

Your mom glanced at you, a hint of curiosity in her eyes. "I wonder what’s changed in him," she mused. "Maybe he’s finally opening up his heart for another woman."

Your body tensed at her words. She continued, "Ever since he became a widower, there have been plenty of women interested in him. It’s a small town, you know. Everyone knows everything. But he's always been so... cold and distant. Joel is handsome, successful, and a gentleman. Don't tell your father I said that." She chuckled, and you just smile to her.

Inside, you couldn't help but agree. Joel was indeed handsome and a gentleman, so different from your father. Your father, who should have been the epitome of kindness and morality as a preacher, was anything but. His exterior was polished and righteous, but inside, he was rotten. Joel, on the other hand, seemed rough on the outside but was truly good at heart.

Your mother sighed, "It’s good for Joel, though. It’s about time he moved on and built a new life. Maybe he’ll find a nice woman his age, someone who can be a good mother to Ellie. Adam needs his Eve, after all."

Her words made you uncomfortable, a knot forming in your stomach. You couldn’t bear the thought of Joel with someone else. The jealousy gnawed at you, knowing your mother would lose her mind if she ever discovered you were the reason for Joel’s recent change. You also felt a pang of insecurity, realizing how much older Joel was, how he could practically be your father. There were so many women in town who were more age-appropriate for him, attractive and mature, whereas you felt small and insignificant in comparison.

You focused on mixing the batter, trying to push away the uncomfortable thoughts. "Yeah, maybe," you mumbled, not trusting yourself to say more.

Your mother didn't seem to notice your discomfort. She continued to chatter about the town gossip, but your mind was elsewhere. You wondered if Joel ever thought about these things—marry a nice woman and built a new life? You knew he cared for you, but could he see a future with you, or was this just a fleeting moment in his life?

As you finished the cake and placed it in the oven, you couldn't shake off the thoughts swirling in your head. Joel was a beacon of light in your life, but the future felt uncertain. You wished you could ask him, but the fear of his answer kept you silent.

The cookies were done baking, and your mother placed them in two jars. "Take these over to Joel’s house and then to Tommy's," she said, handing you the jars and placing them in a sturdy tote bag to make it easier to carry on your bike.

You nodded, appreciating the excuse to see Joel. As you rode your bike through the familiar streets, the wind swept across your face, carrying the sweet scent of summer and the promise of evening. The sky was a canvas of blue and orange, painting a picturesque scene straight out of a movie. You loved this town—the southern charm, the way everyone knew each other—but part of you hated it, longed to escape its confines and the shadows that lurked within your home.

Arriving at Joel’s house, one of the bigger ones in the neighborhood, you parked your bike in the driveway and grabbed one of the cookie jars. Knocking on the door, as you always did instead of using the bell, you expected Ellie to answer since Joel’s truck wasn’t in the driveway.

The door opened, and instead of Ellie, it was Joel standing there. His face softened the moment he saw you.

"Hey, Mr. Miller," you said, deliberately using his formal title to tease him a bit.

Joel chuckled, his eyes warm. "Hey, doll."

You lifted the jar slightly. "Mom sent some cookies. She thought you might like them."

Joel took the jar from your hands, his fingers brushing yours. "Oh, that's nice of her, well, do want to come in?"

"Maybe for a little," You followed him inside, the familiar coziness of his home wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. Joel set the jar on the kitchen counter and turned to you, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern.

"You alright?" he asked, sensing your unease.

You smiled, trying to brush off your worries. "Yeah, just... thinking about stuff."

Joel stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your chin. His touch was rough but tender, sending shivers down your spine. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

You nodded, looking up into his eyes. They were deep pools of warmth and safety, and every time you looked into them, you felt like you could melt. "I know," you whispered.

For a moment, you just stood there, lost in each other's gaze. Joel’s eyes held something you couldn’t quite decipher, a mix of emotions that made your heart race. You giggled nervously, breaking the silence.

"What?" you asked, feeling self-conscious.

Joel shook his head slowly, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Nothin'."

You giggled again. "You have to stop looking at me like that."

Joel raised an eyebrow, still smiling. He's leaning in to kiss you, "Like what?"

You blushed, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. Before Joel could kiss you, you both heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Quickly, you stepped away from each other.

"Oh, hey, I thought I heard someone knocking," Ellie said, entering the kitchen.

"Hey, Ellie," you greeted her. "My mom and I made some cookies, and she sent you some. I thought I’d drop by for a bit."

Ellie grinned and walked over to you and Joel. She glanced at Joel, noticing his slightly flushed face, and raised an eyebrow. "You okay, Joel?"

Joel cleared his throat awkwardly. "Yeah, just, uh, a bit of dust or somethin'."

Ellie opened the jar and took a cookie. "These are great. Thanks!" She turned to you. Joel took a cookie as well, taking a bite and nodding in approval.

"You made this?" Joel asked, looking impressed.

You blushed a little. "Well, I just helping my mom."

"I take that as a yes and this is good," Joel said, his eyes warm.

"Thank you," you replied, feeling a rush of warmth from his compliment.

Ellie turned her attention to you. "So, how’s school? I haven’t seen you much lately."

You shrugged. "Just busy with a lot of things."

Ellie nodded. "I heard you’re in charge of the church dance troupe for the event next week."

"Yeah," you said, smiling.

Ellie smirked playfully. "And I heard Pastor Ben picked you as soon as he saw you. I think he likes you."

Joel’s expression changed, his jaw tightening slightly. "Who's Ben?"

Ellie glanced at Joel, oblivious to his jealousy. "Pastor Ben is the new young pastor who’s going to be taking over while Father Gibson is away for a couple of weeks."

"Yeah," you added. "He’s just helping out while my dad is on a trip to New Orleans for the church."

Ellie nodded enthusiastically. "He's super popular with the girls at school. They all think he’s really handsome."

You laughed lightly, trying to diffuse the tension. "He’s just being friendly, Ellie."

Joel’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he forced a casual tone. "How old is he?"

"Not sure," Ellie said, shrugging. "Maybe late twenties?"

"Oh," he said.

Joel's face remained impassive, but the tension in his jaw betrayed his emotions. He didn’t want to show too much, to let on how much it bothered him that someone else might have an eye on you. After all, anyone would notice your beauty—your presence was like a beacon, drawing people in with your pure, radiant light. Men and boys alike found themselves captivated by you, your allure almost heavenly. Joel, despite not being religious, found himself silently praying that he could keep you to himself.

He knew that your beauty wasn’t just skin-deep. There was something about you that felt untouched, ethereal—a stark contrast to the gritty world he had come to know. You were his salvation, a glimpse of purity and hope in his otherwise dark and turbulent life.

Ellie changed the subject, sensing the awkwardness. "Anyway, are you excited about leading the dance troupe?"

"Yeah, it should be fun," you replied, grateful for the shift in conversation. "It’s a lot of work, but I think it’ll be worth it."

"Maybe you want to join, Ellie?" you said teasing her, "Oh hell nah," Ellie answered making a disgusting face, you chuckled.

Joel remained quiet, his eyes flicking between you and Ellie. You could tell he was still processing the idea of Pastor Ben, but he seemed to be trying to push it aside.

"Well, thanks for the cookies," Ellie said, taking another bite. "They’re delicious."

"Glad you like them," you said with a smile. "I should probably get going. I need to drop the other jar off at Tommy’s."

Joel’s expression softened as he looked at you. "Let me walk you out," he said. As Ellie remained engrossed in the cookies, Joel gently took your hand, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"When is your father leaving for New Orleans?" Joel asked in a low voice as he guided you towards the door.

"Tonight, around eight," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Joel’s eyes gleamed with a hint of mischief as he leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Can you sneak out tonight?" he whispered, his hand lightly caressing yours.

You smirked and nodded, a blush spreading across your cheeks.

Joel’s eyes darted around, ensuring no one was watching. "I’ll pick you up behind your house at nine," he whispered, his voice a mix of excitement and caution. His rough hand felt like a contrast to your soft skin, a stark reminder of the different worlds you both came from, yet a perfect match in this moment.

You felt a flutter in your chest, a combination of anticipation and desire. His touch was electric, sending a rush of warmth through your veins. You wanted to hold onto this feeling, the thrill of the forbidden, the secret moments that were just for the two of you.

Joel leaned in and pressed a quick, sweet kiss to your cheek, ensuring no one was watching. You felt your heart race, the sensation of his lips lingering on your skin.

"I’ll see you later," he murmured, stepping back slightly. "Take care."

You nodded, trying to contain your excitement. "You too," you said softly, your voice tinged with the happiness you felt inside.

The whole way to Tommy’s house, you couldn’t stop blushing. Riding your bike, you felt the wind rush past you, the world around you vibrant and alive. The sky was a brilliant canvas of blue and orange, the southern landscape unfolding like a scene straight out of a movie. Each pedal felt lighter, the anticipation of the night ahead filling you with a sense of freedom and exhilaration.

Reaching Tommy’s house, you parked your bike and grabbed the jar of cookies. Knocking on the door, you took a deep breath, the smile on your face unshakeable. Tonight held the promise of something special, and you couldn’t wait to see Joel again.

The house was a quiet, still tableau of ordinary life, its corners cast in the muted hues of nightfall. Your mother’s soft, tired footsteps echoed as she busied herself with the last-minute preparations for your father’s departure. From your vantage point in the dimly lit room, you could hear the rumble of his stern, authoritative voice as he issued his final instructions for his absence.

“Behave yourself, Evelyn. Take care of your duties.” your father’s voice cut through the air like a blade to your mother, “Make sure the house is in order," He said to your mother.

Your mother then called you from downstairs. “Come say goodbye to your father before he leaves.”

You descended the stairs with a heavy heart, each step a reluctant march towards the formality of your father's departure. His figure loomed large in the dimly lit foyer, his stern face illuminated by the flickering light from the chandelier above. The space around him seemed to shrink under the weight of his presence, a constant reminder of his authority and control.

Your father, already dressed in his traveling attire, turned to face you as you approached. His expression was as impassive as ever, his eyes scanning you with a critical gaze that never quite softened. “I expect you to behave while I’m away. Keep things in order, take care of your house duties with your mother and don’t let any mischief slip through. Pastor Ben will be in charge for the next two weeks."

You offered a formal, almost mechanical embrace, your body stiff as you pressed against him. The touch was brief, a quick and emotionless exchange that spoke more of obligation than affection. His words felt like a final checklist, a list of expectations that you had long learned to adhere to.

With a nod, you managed a polite, “Yes, daddy."

As he turned to leave, he gave one last instruction, his voice trailing off as he stepped toward the door. “Remember, be a good Christian girl. Stay close to God. Make sure you’re not a burden to your mother.”

After he had gone, your mother’s weary voice called from the kitchen. “Sweetheart, would you like something to eat? There are leftovers in the fridge. I’m quite tired and I think I'm gonna go to bed early,”

You shook your head, feigning a lack of appetite. “No, I’m full, Mama. I’ll just head to bed.”

“Alright, dear,” she replied, her tone soft but tinged with fatigue. “Don’t forget to pray before you sleep.”

You watched her retreat to her room, her movements slow and burdened. The house felt emptier as she disappeared from view, and you knew it was time to execute your carefully laid plan.

With a quiet sigh, you slipped out of bed and crept to your window. The night was still and serene, the air cool against your skin as you pushed the window open. The backyard, bathed in the soft glow of the moon, felt like a secret world just waiting to be explored.

You carefully climbed out of the window, landing softly on the grass below. The night sky was a canvas of stars, each one a twinkling reminder of the possibilities that lay beyond the confines of your everyday life. The cool breeze ruffled your hair, carrying with it the scents of the garden—jasmine, freshly cut grass, and the distant promise of freedom.

In the darkness, Joel’s truck waited, a silent sentinel against the backdrop of the night. The vehicle was cloaked in shadows, its lights off to avoid attracting any unwanted attention. Your heart raced with anticipation as you approached, the thrill of the forbidden making your steps lighter and faster.

Sliding into the truck, you were greeted by Joel’s familiar presence. His face, partially illuminated by the dim interior light, softened as he saw you. A warm smile spread across his lips, his eyes sparkling with the same excitement that you felt.

Before you could say a word, Joel’s lips met yours in a passionate kiss. It was a moment of pure, unrestrained connection, the outside world falling away as the heat of his touch enveloped you. The kiss was fervent, a melding of stolen desires and whispered promises, each touch a testament to the intimacy you shared.

Joel’s hands were rough and warm, their contrast to your soft skin sending a shiver through your body. As he pulled away, his eyes held a deep, unspoken affection that spoke louder than any words could. “Hey there, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm in the quiet cabin.

The truck’s engine roared to life, a low, rumbling purr that vibrated through the seats. The world outside seemed to blur as Joel drove through the empty streets, the city lights casting fleeting golden streaks across the windshield. Each streetlamp was a beacon in the darkness, guiding you through a night that felt like a dream.

With every mile that passed, the weight of your ordinary life lifted, replaced by the vivid colors of this stolen moment. The night sky above was a tapestry of dreams and possibilities, a perfect backdrop for the intimate adventure you were embarking upon.

The truck rolled to a gentle stop at the top of a secluded hill, its path winding through the darkened landscape like a secret road leading to a hidden sanctuary. The night sky stretched out above, an endless canvas dotted with twinkling stars, their cold light a delicate contrast to the warm cocoon of the truck's interior. Joel’s touch was a constant comfort, the warmth of his hand against yours a promise of the intimacy you shared.

You and Joel made your way to the truck's open bed, where a soft blanket had been laid out. The fabric was cool beneath you, but the warmth of Joel’s body beside you quickly dispelled any chill. You settled in together, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace as you both lay back to gaze at the sprawling expanse of the cosmos.

The night was a silent witness to your closeness, the stars above flickering like distant, celestial eyes. The moon hung low, casting a soft, silvery light over the landscape, making the moment feel surreal and dreamlike. Joel’s presence was a soothing balm, his breaths steady and calming against the backdrop of the night.

As you both lay there, the peacefulness of the night was punctuated by your conversation. The topics ranged from trivial to profound, each word a thread weaving the tapestry of your shared moment. The serenity of the night made every laugh and whisper seem more intimate, more precious.

Then, Joel’s voice broke the quiet, a hint of curiosity lacing his words. “Tell me more about this Ben,” he asked, his tone light but edged with something you couldn’t quite place.

You chuckled, rolling onto your side to face him. “Ben? Oh, he’s just this new pastor. He’s always paying attention to me, it's weird...my friends keep telling me like he likes me, but he's not really my type. He's...too boyish,” you said, trying to convey your disinterest.

Joel’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Boyish? He’s an adult.”

You smiled, playfully snuggling closer. “Yeah, but he’s not you.”

Joel’s eyes flickered with something akin to jealousy, though he quickly masked it with a nonchalant shrug. “Jealous?” you teased, noticing the subtle shift in his demeanor.

Joel gave a soft chuckle, his laughter mingling with the ambient sounds of the night. “I’m not jealous.”

You continued to tease him, your light-hearted jokes breaking through the quiet night air. Each laugh and playful nudge seemed to draw you both closer, your bond solidified by the shared humor and intimacy of the moment.

However, your mind wandered back to the conversation you’d overheard with your mother. The stories of Joel’s past, of Sarah and Jane, lingered like shadows at the edge of your thoughts. A wave of curiosity and a tinge of apprehension washed over you.

“Joel,” you began tentatively, your voice barely above a whisper, “how come you never tell me about your life?"

"What do you mean, doll?"

"About Sarah and Jane,"

Joel’s body stiffened beside you, his hand retracting from its position on your waist. The shift was palpable, a stark contrast to the easy closeness you’d just shared. His face hardened slightly, a veil of discomfort settling over his features.

He looked away, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. “What do you want to know?” he asked, his voice guarded and distant.

You felt a pang of regret, your heart aching at the sight of his discomfort. The stars above, once a symbol of wonder and possibility, now felt like distant witnesses to a moment of unspoken pain. You struggled to find the right words, the metaphors of your own emotions becoming tangled in the reality of Joel’s guarded heart.

“I...I just want to understand,” you said softly, your voice trembling slightly. “I know about your life, but it feels like there’s so much more you haven’t shared.”

"And you knew about mine, all of it," you said again.

Joel’s silence was heavy, a deep, almost tangible weight that pressed against your chest. The night seemed to stretch on forever, the stars above a cold, indifferent audience to the emotions playing out beneath them. The warmth of Joel’s touch was still there, but it now felt like a fragile thread, tenuous and delicate.

Joel’s gaze softened, but the weight of his past seemed to anchor him, pulling him into a place he wasn’t ready to share. “It’s not easy to talk about,” he admitted, his voice trembling with a mixture of regret and sadness. “Some things are just too hard to revisit.”

Your heart ached at his vulnerability, and you reached out, your voice gentle. “You can open up to me, Joel. I want to listen. You always listen whenever I’m down. I’m here with you,”

Joel’s eyes flickered with a storm of emotions, a mix of frustration and something else, but he remained quiet. You pressed on, your fingers lightly grazing his hand. “Do you ever think about them?"

A tense silence followed, Joel’s expression darkening. He clenched his jaw, struggling with the weight of his emotions. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, his voice strained and edged with anger.

You tried to close the distance, your hand still resting on his. “Joel, it’s okay to open up.”

But before you could say more, Joel’s frustration erupted. “I just don't want to talk about it!” he snapped, his voice sharp and louder than you’d ever heard.

You flinched, your heart racing as the sudden intensity of his reaction hit you. The night, once a haven of comfort and connection, now felt oppressive, the stars above seeming distant and indifferent to the turmoil unfolding below.

Joel’s eyes widened as he saw the fear in your gaze, and his anger dissipated almost immediately, replaced by regret and sorrow. “Fuck, I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to—”

You tried to steady yourself, holding back the tears that threatened to spill. “It’s okay,” you whispered, though your voice wavered. “I’m sorry."

Joel’s face crumpled with remorse, and he pulled you into a tight embrace. “No, no, it’s alright,” he said urgently, his hands trembling as they held you close. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.”

You let yourself sink into his embrace, the warmth of his body a balm against the sharp edges of your fear. Joel’s arms were strong and reassuring, his apologies sincere as he gently stroked your back, his touch a contrast to the harshness of his earlier words.

The night around you seemed to settle, the tension easing as Joel’s grip tightened, holding you as if he could shield you from the weight of his own emotions. The stars above continued to shine, their distant light a reminder of the vastness of the world and the smallness of your own worries in the grand scheme of things.

Joel’s voice was soft now, filled with the weight of his remorse. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just...I just can’t talk about it right now.”

You nestled closer against Joel, the warmth of his body enveloping you in a cocoon of comfort. “It’s okay, Joel,” you murmured softly, your voice a gentle caress against the backdrop of the night. “I’m sorry to push you, but I want you to know that I am here. Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’ll be right here, just like you are for me.”

Joel’s fingers brushed against your hair, a tender gesture that spoke volumes. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, a whisper of affection that traveled down to your cheek and finally to your lips. The kiss was brief but sweet, a promise of connection and understanding. He pulled you back into his embrace, both of you gazing up at the star-speckled sky.

The vastness of the night felt like a canvas, stretching out endlessly before you. You could feel the weight of your desires and dreams mingling with the cool night air, and a yearning for freedom began to take shape in your heart. “Joel,” you said softly, breaking the comfortable silence between you. “I want to go out. I want to get away from all of this. Will you come with me one day?”

The sincerity in your voice carried a longing for escape, for a fresh start where the past could no longer cast its shadow. You wanted to run away, to leave behind the chains of hurt and disappointment and start anew with Joel by your side. The dream of leaving it all behind, just the two of you, was intoxicating—a chance to be free from the constraints of your everyday lives and the ghosts of your pasts.

Joel’s eyes met yours, a flicker of determination lighting up his features. He could see the raw honesty in your gaze, the hope that shimmered like the stars above. “I promise you,” he said, his voice steady and sincere, “one day, we will. We’ll get out of here and start fresh. Just you and me.”

You felt a flutter of relief and happiness at his words, as if a heavy weight had been lifted from your heart. The idea of a future together, unburdened by the past, seemed within reach now, a possibility painted against the backdrop of the night sky. Joel’s promise was a beacon of hope, a light guiding you through the darkness.

You lay there, side by side, under the vast expanse of the universe, the stars shining brightly above you. The night felt endless, full of potential and promise. The warmth of Joel’s presence, the softness of his touch, and the certainty of his promise wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, making the future seem just a little bit brighter.

In the quiet moments that followed, you allowed yourself to dream of a different life, one where the past was a distant memory and the present was filled with endless possibilities. With Joel by your side, the journey ahead felt less daunting, and the dreams of escape and freedom seemed like they could one day become a beautiful reality.

***

The sun cast a warm, golden light over the school grounds as you and your classmates, including Emma, practiced your dance routines for the upcoming church event. The afternoon air was filled with the sounds of music and the rustle of your movements as you and your friends rehearsed, perfecting every step and spin. The new Pastor Ben, fresh from Mexico with his wife Jemima, observed with an encouraging smile, his presence adding an extra layer of excitement to the practice.

Pastor Ben, young and charismatic, was the center of attention for many of the girls. His charm and good looks had quickly made him popular, and you could see why. Though you knew he was married, the admiration from your friends was palpable. Jemima, his wife, had been less present in the community, focusing on settling into their new life. You hadn’t interacted with her much, and you were more familiar with Ben’s friendly demeanor and the sparkle in his eyes that made him somehow likable among your friends.

As the practice came to a close, you and Emma walked outside the school, discussing the day’s rehearsals and sharing your thoughts on the choreography. The conversation was light-hearted, filled with giggles and the occasional sigh as you both reflected on the challenges and progress made.

Suddenly, Pastor Ben appeared beside you, his presence both surprising and pleasant. “Afternoon, girls. How did the practice go today?” he asked, his attention clearly focused on you.

You could feel the warmth of his gaze as he continued, “Any difficulties? How are you finding the choreography?”

You answered, your voice steady but with a hint of nervousness, “We’re making good progress. There were a few tricky moves, but we’re getting there.”

Ben nodded, his eyes never straying far from you. “You’re doing really well. I’ve noticed you’ve been putting in a lot of effort. It shows.”

Emma, ever the enthusiastic friend, chimed in, “Oh, we’re just working hard! It’s been a lot of fun, though. Don’t you think Pastor Ben has been so encouraging?”

Ben smiled at her but turned his attention back to you. “I’m glad to hear that. I just wanted to check in and see how everyone’s doing. Is there anything you need help with?”

You felt a mix of emotions—flattered by his attention but also a bit uncomfortable given the context of the situation. Ben’s genuine interest was clear, but it was hard not to feel like you were under a spotlight.

“Thank you, Pastor Ben. I think we’re okay for now. It’s just a matter of practice,” Emma said.

He nodded, “If any of you ever need any extra guidance or just want to talk, don’t hesitate to reach out. I’m here to help.”

As Pastor Ben walked away, you felt a twinge of relief mixed with lingering confusion. You were still processing the interaction when Ellie’s familiar voice broke through, startling you slightly.

“Oh, that’s Pastor Ben,” Ellie said, a playful tone in her voice. She tapped you on the shoulder, making Emma and you turn to face her.

Emma grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Yep, that’s the new hot pastor,"

Ellie looked between you and Emma with a knowing smile. “So, what’s the gossip on Pastor Ben?”

Before Emma could answer, you asked Ellie if she was heading home. Ellie shook her head, her excitement palpable. “Nope, I’m going out with Joel. We’re going to practice shooting. You know, for deer hunting. Joel and I usually do this.”

Just then, the sound of a truck horn pierced the air, and Ellie waved enthusiastically. “Ah, there’s Joel now. See you later, guys!”

You watched as Ellie walked toward the truck, your gaze meeting Joel’s for a brief moment. You tried to hide your blush, feeling the familiar flutter in your chest whenever Joel was near.

Emma then suddenly said, "Ah the town's DILF,"

You choked caught off guard. “What did you just say?”

Emma laughed, leaning in conspiratorially. “You know, DILF—‘Dad I’d Like to’—you know the type. Joel’s like the ultimate Southern gentleman. He’s got that rugged charm. He looks like he works with his hands, and I bet he smells like Marlboro Reds. Everyone’s talking about how lucky Ellie is. Goddamn, he's just hot,"

You felt your cheeks flush deeper, a mix of embarrassment and annoyance. “Emma, stop. He’s much older than us.”

Emma raised an eyebrow playfully. “Oh come on, you’re telling me you’ve never thought about Joel that way? I mean, he’s your dad’s best friend in high school, but just tell me you have right?”

You glared at Emma, trying to hide the twinge of jealousy you felt. “Emma, that’s inappropriate."

Emma pouted in mock innocence. “Oh, come on! Don’t be so uptight. We’re just talking. I’m sure you’ve had some thoughts, especially with how close you are with Joel right?"

You shook your head, trying to suppress the tumult of emotions bubbling inside you. “Seriously, Emma, I don’t want to talk about this.”

Emma grinned, undeterred. “Alright, alright. I’ll drop it. But you have to admit, Joel’s a pretty interesting guy.”

You gave her a half-smile, trying to brush off the teasing. “Emma..."

Emma’s grin remained as she walked alongside you, her excitement infectious despite your lingering discomfort. You both made your way home, your thoughts tangled with the events of the day.

As you approached your house, Emma’s voice broke through your thoughts. “Hey, you know what? My parents are out tonight. How about a sleepover at my place? We can hang out and have some fun. It’ll be a nice break before graduation.”

You hesitated, “I don’t know, Em. I’ve got a lot to prepare for graduation.”

Emma’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Oh, come on! It’ll be fun. Jim will be there too, and he’s a blast. Plus, you’ll have me to keep you entertained. What’s the harm?”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to mask your reluctance. “I don’t want to be the third wheel.”

Emma’s expression softened as she playfully pleaded. “Oh, please. It’ll be fine. Just come hang out. If you don’t, my parents might not let Jim over if it's just both of us. Pretty please?”

You sighed, weighing your options. Emma’s persistence was hard to resist, and you knew it would be a good chance to take your mind off things. “Alright, alright. I’ll come. But let me ask my mom first.”

Emma’s face lit up with joy. “Yes! Thank you! I promise we’ll have a great time.”

As you walked inside your house, you found your mom in the kitchen, preparing a simple dinner for herself. The smell of food filled the air, a comforting reminder of home.

“Mom, Emma invited me to a sleepover at her house tonight,” you said, trying to sound casual. “Is it okay if I go?”

Your mom looked up, her face reflecting mild surprise but also understanding. “A sleepover? Well, I suppose it’s fine. Just be sure to come home early tomorrow."

You nodded, relieved by her response. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll be back early.”

With your mother’s approval, you quickly gathered your things and headed back outside to meet Emma. Her excitement was palpable as she waited for you by the front gate.

“Great! Let’s go!” Emma chirped, grabbing your hand and leading the way.

As you walked to Emma’s house, your mind was still clouded by the earlier events. The thought of spending the evening with Emma and Jim was a welcome distraction from the swirl of emotions you had been feeling. You hoped it would be a chance to relax and clear your head before facing whatever came next.

Hours later, the three of you were lounging in Emma’s cozy living room, the soft glow of the TV casting shadows on the walls. After an exciting board game session, you settled down to watch "Gone with the Wind." Emma and Jim sat close together on the couch, their whispered conversations blending with the movie's dialogue. You tried to focus on the screen, but their growing intimacy was hard to ignore.

Emma giggled softly, her voice barely above a whisper. You glanced over just in time to see them exchanging a tender kiss. Their kisses grew more passionate, and soon they were making out fervently. You turned your attention back to the movie, trying to block out the sounds of their affection, but it was no use.

"I'm going to take Jim to my bedroom," Emma said, her cheeks flushed. "Is it okay if you stay here alone?"

You nodded, your heart pounding. "Yeah, it's fine. I want to finish the movie anyway."

Emma smiled and led Jim to her room, leaving you alone in the dimly lit living room. The hours passed slowly, the film a distant backdrop to the thoughts swirling in your mind. Their muffled voices and occasional moans filtered through the walls, filling you with a mix of curiosity and discomfort.

The next morning, you woke early and decided to make breakfast for everyone. The smell of sizzling bacon and fresh coffee filled the kitchen as you worked. Emma was the first to join you, her hair tousled and eyes bright.

“Thanks for breakfast,” she said, giving you a warm smile. “Did you have fun playing board games last night?”

You returned her smile, feeling a genuine sense of friendship. "Yeah, it was fun. Thanks for inviting me."

Emma smiling to you, "You're a good friend," you smiled at her.

You hesitated at first, then asked the question that had been on your mind. "So, uh... about last night... did you and Jim...?"

Emma blushed slightly but didn't shy away. "You mean, am I not a virgin anymore? Yes. and I'm really in love with Jim. He's so kind and supportive. We’re thinking about getting married after we graduate, moving to a big city like Austin or Houston to start our lives together. He can work in a garage, and I'll stay home."

Her words made you think of Joel, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of longing. "Have you ever been in love?" Emma asked, noticing your pensive expression.

“I don’t know,” you replied hesitantly. “I think about someone a lot, but I’m not sure what it means.”

“And have you ever... you know, had sex?” Emma asked.

Your body tensed, the memory of Jamie’s forceful actions coming to mind. You decided to lie and shook your head.

“Typical preacher’s daughter, stay pure, hon,” Emma said, her tone sincere rather than mocking.

You swallowed, feeling a mix of discomfort and curiosity. “How does it feel like?”

Emma’s expression softened. “Well, when you’re with someone you truly care about, it can be really special. It’s not just about the physical aspect, but the emotional connection. It’s like sharing something deeply personal with someone you love and who loves you back. It can feel very intimate and fulfilling.”

You nodded, trying to understand her words. “But isn’t it scary? Does it hurt?”

Emma smiled gently. “It can be, especially the first time. But when you’re with someone who respects you and makes you feel safe, it’s a lot easier. It’s important that you feel comfortable and loved.”

You took in her words, feeling a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. “What if I’m not ready for that yet?”

Emma reassured you. “That’s completely okay. There’s no rush. It’s important to wait until you feel ready and comfortable. And remember, there are other ways to show affection and care for someone.”

You felt a bit of relief. “Like what?”

Emma leaned in slightly, her voice gentle. “Like, for example, giving him oral pleasure. It’s a way to show that you care about him and want to make him feel good. But it’s really important that you’re comfortable with whatever you choose to do. Communication and mutual respect are key in any relationship.”

You blushed, feeling a mix of curiosity and embarrassment. “I don’t know much about that. It sounds kind of… complicated.”

Emma smiled warmly. “It can seem that way, but you��ll learn what feels right for you and your partner as you go along. The most important thing is to have open conversations and make sure you’re both on the same page.”

You nodded, absorbing her advice. “Thanks for explaining."

Emma’s words lingered in your mind as you processed what she had said. The idea of intimacy was something you hadn’t explored deeply, shaped by the teachings you’d grown up with. Your father’s sermons had painted it as an ultimate sin, a taboo wrapped in layers of guilt and religious doctrine. The notion of sex had always been shadowed by the fear of moral failure, a breach of sacred promises that could never be undone.

Emma’s perspective, however, was a stark contrast. She spoke of intimacy as a beautiful, shared experience between two people who cared deeply for each other. It wasn’t just a physical act but a manifestation of affection and connection. It was a way to express love, to show that you cherish someone in the most personal and vulnerable way.

You thought about Joel, and how his kindness had touched you. His presence was like a gentle light breaking through a stormy sky—offering warmth, comfort, and a sense of security you had rarely felt before. The idea of pleasing him, of sharing something deeply intimate, seemed like a way to express your gratitude, to show him how much you valued his care and support.

It was as if you were standing at the edge of a beautiful, uncharted garden, its entrance hidden behind a veil of mist and uncertainty. The garden represented a space of connection, where the blossoms of affection and mutual respect could flourish. The thought of stepping into this garden with Joel was both thrilling and daunting. It was a step into the unknown, where the flowers of shared experiences and emotional intimacy awaited.

You contemplated the possibility of finding a way to share this garden with Joel, to offer him a gesture of affection that went beyond words. Maybe through a physical expression of care, you could bridge the gap between your feelings and his, creating a shared space where love could grow and flourish.

Emma’s reassurance and gentle explanations provided a new perspective, one that allowed you to see intimacy not as a forbidden act but as a potential expression of love and appreciation. You wondered if perhaps, in time, you could navigate this new terrain with Joel, guided by mutual respect and deep affection.

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rebelliousneferut · 5 months ago

Text

finding you | lando norris x model!reader

summary; in the midst of social media pressure you find your soul mate

genre; smau, fluff? i'm not really sure

face claim; angelina michelle

note; english is not my first language

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

f1wags

liked by f1gossip, y/nfans, norris.updates and others

f1wags rumors have been circulating since the beginning of this year about formula 1 driver lando norris and model y/n l/n being in a relationship.

there had been some photos of them being together with friends and they were also captured by some paparazzi but neither of them had confirmed these rumors until today.

this is the photo that lando shared through his Instagram stories.

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username oh... this is weird

username how weird?

username do not misunderstand. i love her and i think she is a very good model, but she looks a little... cold? to be with him

username this is how you perceive her on the internet, but you don't know her and you don't know her true personality. so don't assume those things.

username am i the only one thinking that this is like marketing or smt?

y/nxlando i actually think they are a very good couple ❤️

username how the hell you might already have an account dedicated to them

y/nsource as long as my girl is happy i will be happy too

y/nl/nuser

liked by landonorris, f1gossip, y/nsource and others

y/nl/nuser ✨

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f1gossip lando doesn't miss any post of her

username just like all of us

y/nsource you are always so stunning 😍

❤️ liked by the author

y/nsource she liked my comment!!!!!

y/nxlando mommy slayyyy!!!

username i can't imagine lando dating her, he's so outgoing and she looks so cold

username you assume that just because of a photo. you do not know her so leave her alone

username yes but still

landonorris cute

❤️ liked by the author

username cute??? seriously??? there's no way you could have gotten his attention like that.

f1gossip 🤭🤭🤭

f1wags we need you in the paddock!

username i think she and lando are dating for pr, they don't seem in love

username i agree, they are trying to give her a lovely image

username i genuinely think she is too much for him.

username can you fight lando?

the camera flash is my constant companion, a blinding beacon in the manufactured world i inhabit. every smile, every pose, is a carefully constructed facade. i am a mannequin, a living, breathing doll, expected to embody perfection. the weight of this expectation is crushing my spirit.

behind the scenes, the laughter is forced, the conversations shallow. i am a ghost in my own life, a character trapped in a script I didn't write. the world sees me as a flawless goddess, but the truth is a stark contrast. i am lonely, insecure, and desperately yearning for authenticity.

then, there's lando. amidst the chaos of the fashion world, he is a breath of fresh air. a world away from the superficiality, he is grounded, genuine, and possesses an infectious laughter that makes my heart skip a beat. our paths crossed at a normal day, a chance encounter that ignited a spark.

in his company, i feel seen, truly seen. his eyes hold a depth that mirrors my own longing for something real. there is an understanding between us, a silent acknowledgment of the masks we both wear. in his arms, i find a sanctuary, a place where i can be myself without fear of judgment. lando is my escape, my reality check in a world of illusion.

"what are you thinking about?" lando asked, noticing my distant gaze.

i sighed, my phone still clutched in my hand. "people are saying we're incompatible. that i'm only with you for the image." disappointment laced my voice.

he squeezed my hand reassuringly. "don't let the online noise get to you, love. they don't know us. i love you for who you are, even the cold parts."

i couldn't help but chuckle. "i'm not always cold."

"i know," he replied with a tender smile. "and i love you for that too."

we shared a long, comfortable silence, filled with unspoken understanding.

the following weekend, we walked into the miami gp paddock, hand in hand, ready to face the world together.

f1wags

liked by norrislando.fans, y/nsource, username and others

f1wags lando and his girlfriend y/n arriving at the paddock together today. it is their first public appearance as a couple and also the first time y/n attends a race.

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y/nxlando i love them sm

username of course she was going to be there

y/nsource my girl is so beautiful ofc

username he seems tired of being with her 😂

username for god's sake, get a life

f1 and mclaren

liked by y/nl/nuser, username, norrislandofans and others

f1 LANDO NORRIS WINS HIS FIRST GRAND PRIX 🤩

#f1 #formula1 #miamigp

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y/nsource that was y/n's influence

norrislandofans he won his first race with his girlfriend being there for the first time 🥺🥺

y/nxlando she is his lucky charm for sure

lando.fans my boy did it!!!

username our*

landonorris posted a story;

[caption; my lucky charm ❤️]

y/nl/nuser

liked by landonorris, y/nxlando, franciscacgomes and others

y/nl/nuser miami you will always be so special ❤️

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landonorris i love you

❤️ liked by the author

norrislandofans please don't miss you any race 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

y/nxlando what a beauty moment you two shared after the podium

username fr! for everyone that was saying that they weren't in love

y/nsource i love you!!

we emerged from the storm stronger than before, choosing authenticity over the perfect facade. the world saw us as a couple, but we knew we were soulmates.

standing on the balcony of our secluded retreat, hand in hand, we watched the sunrise. the outside world faded into a distant hum. all that mattered was this moment, us, and the promise of a future filled with love, laughter, and unwavering support.

it was a world away from the superficial life I once knew. now, i was living my truth, a story written by my heart, not by the demands of the industry. and by my side was lando, the man who showed me the beauty of being real.

together, we were a masterpiece, an unfiltered portrait of love.

#formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 #formula one #formula 1 driver x reader #lando norris #lando x reader #lando x you #lando x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #formula 1 smau #smau #social media au #lando norris smau #lando smau

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thetempleofthemasaigoddess · 7 months ago

Text

Sanji being kidnapped by your father and the two of you falling in love would involve…

Sanji x reader

*****

🩵 Imagine being the daughter of a feared criminal; most of the world knows him as an important businessman, but that is actually only a facade covering a vast criminal empire, whose activities range from extortion to kidnapping, theft and racketing. The list of murders he has ordered is endless, and he has never shied away from killing people who had betrayed or posed a threat to his business himself. Few are those who can hear his name without shuddering with fear, but the general public only knows him as a wealthy, driven but otherwise innocuous entrepreneur, at the head of an important company.

🩵 You are his only child, who he loves dearly and tries with all his might to keep in the dark regarding his criminal activities, knowing you would be horrified. Because of this, you have grown up somewhat sheltered, unaware of your father’s criminal activities and convinced he is simply an important and powerful businessman, respected -and not feared- by partners and employees. He has also made sure all his subordinates and the people you come into contact with keep up the ruse; you are tutored at home instead of attending a normal school, only go on holiday accompanied by him or his bodyguards, and your friends, mainly children of your father’s associates, are likewise vetted to make sure they don’t reveal the truth.

🩵 Unaware of the world of lies he has constructed around you, you adore your father, spend as much time as you can with him and trust him completely. Something you share is an appreciation for good food: the two of you enjoy visiting the most refined restaurants and trying food from different cultures. You also have a private chef at home, the last of a long series, since your father is very picky; he once had a cook beaten to a pulp because he had forgotten to salt the water when preparing pasta for the two of you.

🩵 One day, during what you believe is a brief holiday but that is actually a business trip that your father took advantage of to meet the head of another criminal organisation and make plans for the assassination of a few politicians who opposed their activities, you visit the Baratie, and are both impressed with the quality and taste of Zeff’s food. You are particularly enthusiastic, eating your fill and expressing your appreciation for each and every dish; your father, who never misses an opportunity to make you happy, immediately sends for the chef and asks him to come work -and cook- for you. Zeff thanks him for the offer but refuses, preferring his restaurant to a role as a private chef. Your father is highly displeased, but can’t insist too much, given the fact you are present, listening to their conversation; nonetheless, he plans on sending his most capable henchmen to force the chef to reconsider, and then have you informed Zeff had changed his mind.

🩵 He has no time to implement his plan since, having requested a background check on Zeff to make sure he is actually suited to work for your family, your father discovers the man had an adopted son, who also worked at the restaurant and was known to be an excellent cook; Sanji, a young man who is now part of a pirate crew. A man your age would probably be better suited, your father reasons, since he’d know what sort of food is more appropriate for and appreciated by a girl your age, and he’d probably also be easier to keep in line than a powerful former pirate captain like Zeff. Without wasting any time, your father has Luffy’s crew located, and a team sent to kidnap the chef. When they find him, on the latest island the Merry has docked on, Sanji is at the town market, gathering supplies; he is unfortunately alone, as he prefers to be when choosing the best foods and ingredients for his crew, which means no one notices when your father’s men attract him in a back-alley with an excuse and jump on him. Sanji valiantly defends himself, but he is vastly outnumbered and in the end the men force him at gunpoint to follow them; he has no way to let his friends know what happened to him, or even just to inform them he is in danger.

🩵 Sanji is brought to the huge kitchen of your family villa, where your father is waiting for him, having made sure you’re away; he orders Sanji to cook a few of your favourite dishes, which he does, furious at having been kidnapped but forced despite himself to do his best as always. The result is good enough to satisfy your father, who then informs Sanji he is hired for the job he never applied for, and has no way to refuse. “Your main task is to cook for my daughter; whatever she asks for, whatever she wants, you will prepare it, even if it’s a fifty people banquet on an hour’s notice or a snack at three in the morning; buy the best ingredients, the best tools, hire assistants if you need to; I don’t care about the money. Make sure she’s satisfied, and that her health is not badly affected; this is the only thing that has to matter to you.”

🩵 At first, Sanji refuses; he doesn’t need to know your father’s name to realise he must be a criminal, a man used to get whatever he wants through force and intimidation, and in any case he is not interested in any job that is not cooking for Luffy and the crew. He orders your father to release him, and even violently hits him with a kick in the stomach; as a result, he is locked in a cell, kept there for four days without food, and beaten mercilessly. In the end, starving and bleeding, Sanji decides to obey and bide his time, waiting for an opportunity to escape or contact his friends; he already hates his job, and while his pride as a chef forces him to cook at the best of his abilities and make sure his employers are well fed, he prays he will soon find a way to regain his freedom.

🩵 And then he is introduced to you, and everything changes - even if Sanji doesn’t immediately realise. “You are our new chef? It’s a pleasure to meet you. You can call me (name), I hope you’ll like working here, and I can’t wait to taste what you’ll prepare for us. Is the kitchen of your liking? My father is very picky, so if I can offer a suggestion, make sure you always salt the water for the pasta! He once dismissed a chef without references for that. Do you like the room you’ll be staying in? If you need anything please let me know.”

🩵 Sanji can’t believe it. How can a kind, friendly and unpretentious -not to mention very pretty- girl like you be the daughter of a violent and cruel man like your father? At first he treats you coldly, convinced it’s just a mask, and you’re feigning courtesy and cordiality even though inwardly you are as bad as he is if not worse, but he soon realises the truth couldn’t be more different: you really are genuinely courteous and friendly, and more importantly, you have no idea who your father actually is, and what he does. “Miss (name) knows nothing about her father’s activities; he has always made sure to keep her in the dark.” the housekeeper tells him “The master must have forgotten to tell you, since he hasn’t hired anyone new in a while, but this is very important: you mustn’t tell her, if you don’t want to be killed.”

🩵 And so Sanji’s new life begins. From a professional point of view he has nothing to complain: he can use the best ingredients, his kitchen is every shef’s dream and his employers are invariably satisfied with the dishes he presents them; he sleeps in a comfortable room, and even the pay -because he is paid, unlike what he expected- is more than acceptable. On the other hand, he is virtually a prisoner in the house: your father’s men keep an eye on him constantly, make sure he cannot ask for help, either writing a message or calling with a Den Den Mushi, and escort him when he goes to the market or to the shops. Only a few days after his hiring, while you are out of the house with friends, your father has the whole staff gathered to witness the execution of one of his men, guilty of having written a letter to the local head of police asking for help against him; the man is shot in front of everyone’s eyes. “This is what happens to those who betray me.” your father states calmly “You do your job, obey, and you’ll be safe; but I want all of you to remember how you’ll be repaid if you prove disloyal.”

🩵 Your father is a monster, an unmerciful tyrant who kills people without a second thought and commits crimes of the worst kind; and you, his only daughter, have not the faintest idea. It’s not like you are stupid, or even particularly naive: rather, you are an intelligent young woman, surprisingly humble and unspoiled for someone who has grown up in cotton wool, with money and power enough to satisfy any whim, but while you have received a good education and enjoyed many privileges, you have always lived a sheltered life, detached from the world outside. Your father has carefully surrounded you with people on his payroll or that he can control, and has bodyguards accompany you everywhere, keeping away anyone who could even just suggest the truth is different from what you have been led to believe. You don’t really question it, since this withdrawn existence is everything you have ever known; sometimes you do wish you could have gone to school like most children, or travel alone, but you are sure your father only has your safety at heart, and chose to have you educated at home to hire the best tutors in the country. Yes, sometimes you feel like he vets people your age before you have the chance of making friends with them and it’s strange sometimes his employees look nothing less than terrified while in his presence, as if they had something worse to fear than being reprimanded or fired, but he’s your father, and an important man: it’s normal he wants to make sure you don’t associate with unsavoury people, and expects the best from those who work for him.

🩵 You love him, and trust him completely; he’s your family, your role model, the person you care about the most in the world. Sanji sees it, and also sees how protective and affectionate your father is towards you, not only buying things for you and paying for holidays and other treats, but sincerely making sure you’re happy and well looked after; he treats you gently, spends with you as much time as he can, and welcomes as a priceless gift every care you have for him, even just a cup of tea brought to his study or a small surprise party organised for his birthday. When you are with him, your father is a different man, and Sanji can’t blame him for wanting to keep you in the dark regarding his activities; you would be undoubtedly horrified, because you… you are different, and he likes you more with every passing day.

🩵 At first he keeps his distance, since he has no idea of what sorts of person you really are and can only imagine what would happen if your father saw him flirt with you like he’s used to doing with girls; he does his job keeping his head low and waits for a chance to escape. Soon enough, he starts growing fond of you; he likes how kind you are towards the other members of the house staff and your father’s employees you come into contact with, sometimes even warning them of any mistake that would lead them to incur his wrath; the fact that he’s the only person your age in the house also helps. Unlike your father, who sometimes wakes him up in the middle of the night requesting a snack he could simply take from the fridge or forgets to warn him he’s going to host a dinner for ten of his associates, your requests food-wise are never outrageous; you enjoy most of what he prepares, and never fail to thank and compliment him. Once he finds out you dislike one of his dishes, one he has prepared many times already for your father; he asks you why you never told him, since he could have simply prepared something else for you. “Well, I didn’t want to inconvenience you.” you admit, blushing a bit, perhaps out of embarrassment or because of the attractive young man in front of you, who is looking at you with those lovely brown eyes “I know it took you hours to prepare that dish, and it wouldn’t have been fair to ask you for something else, since it’s only two of us. Anything you prepare is delicious; it’s not like I was forced to eat something I actively disliked.”

🩵 Sanji can’t help appreciating how considerate you are, which in turn leads him to make an even greater effort to please you and prepare your favourite dishes; he tells himself it’s only because of his pride as a chef, because cooking -and cooking well- is what he does and not because he cares about you and wants to make you happy, but less than a month after meeting you he already knows in his heart the truth is different.

🩵 One night he notices you have barely touched your food, even though you insist it was well-cooked as usual and you are simply not hungry; your father is not at home that night, and Sanji can’t help noticing you seem sad as you stare wistfully out of the window, unenthusiastically picking at your food, a tell-tale redness at your eyes. Sanji is immediately worried: have you discovered your father’s secret? Did the two of you have a fight? Did he -unlikely, but you never know- hurt you in some way? The matter doesn’t concern Sanji, not to mention he doubts you’ll want to confide in his since he’s just an employee that you have only known for a few weeks, but he can’t help it; he prepares your favourite dessert, waits for the housekeeper to have retired to her room, and then goes to knock to your door.

🩵 “I’d like to be left alone tonight, please.” you murmur from the inside, your voice breaking as if you had started crying again. Sanji clears his voice and “Miss (last name), this is Sanji. I have brought you a dessert.”

🩵 A moment later you have opened the door, vaguely diffident. “I already had dessert tonight; you served me crème brulée less than an hour ago.” “I did, but… well, I saw you seemed unhappy tonight, so I prepared your favourite.” Sanji explains, holding the dish in front of him as an offering. He’s already regretting his idea, fearing you will tell your father he has bothered you, but suddenly a tiny smile appears on your face. “Wow, that’s… so kind of you, Sanji. Please come in; you want something to drink?” And so, a minute later you’re both sitting at your desk, you busy enjoying your dessert and him sipping a glass of wine you have poured from your mini-fridge. You share a smile, both aware of how anomalous, not to mention potentially inappropriate, his presence in your room this late at night is, and you tacitly decide to ignore the matter. You freely share the reason for your sadness: one of your dearest friends, who you have known since infancy on account of your fathers working together, has suddenly broken all ties with you, without even explaining why. “I can’t understand; we were as close as siblings, I loved and trusted them more than anyone else besides my father… Their father died last week, and I tried to support them, but they told me I was a naive idiot and they couldn’t wait for me to see the truth. I honestly have no idea what they meant! And now they swore they never want to see me again… I miss them already, but what really hurts me is that I don’t understand what I did wrong…”

🩵 Sanji easily perceives the truth: your father had your friend’s, his associate, killed for some reason, maybe a suspected betrayal, and they blame you, if only by association. Seeing you so sad, partially comforted by the delicious dessert you are eating but still frustrated and lonely for the old friend you have lost without knowing why, breaks his heart. You don’t have many friends, you admit, and are well aware that many of the people you know only pay attention to you on request of your father, because he knows their parents and employers, or because they hope to benefit from the money and luxuries he grants you. ��You must feel very lonely; I’m sorry, (name).” Sanju murmurs, using your first name without realising; he is all too aware of how your knees are touching under the desk “You deserve to be surrounded by people who appreciate you for what you are, because believe me, anyone would be fortunate to be your friend.” He fears you might think he’s only telling you what you need to hear, since you still know each other so little, but you smile at him, shy and grateful, as if you could perceive how sincere he’s being. “Thank you, Sanji; the truth is, this has already happened more than once. People I cared for -friends, members of our staff, employees of my father I had been acquainted with for years… they simply leave without a word, or disappear in thin air as if they had never been there. Now, I know it’s normal for a person to change jobs and even the best friends can grow distant, but…” “But?” he invites you to go on. “... but sometimes I feel as if there was something weird about it; as if those people hadn’t simply left… they were gone. And my father had something to do with it.”

🩵 You force a smile, as if to apologise for the absurdity of that idea; no matter how suddenly tense he is, Sanji can’t help noticing how enticing your mouth looks at that moment, the teeth biting into it emphasising the plushness of your bottom lip, your tongue darting out for a moment to clean a minuscule spot of cream left from the last bite of your treat. “I know it’s absurd; I feel guilty just talking about it, but… most of the people I know, friends and otherwise, I have met them through my father, and he’s a good and kind man, but he’s so protective of me, and sometimes I feel like… well, that he’d be capable of pushing away, or even firing, people he doesn’t approve I make friends with. I know, I sound like an idiot, and ungrateful, given everything he does for me; you can laugh if you want.” But Sanji has no intention of laughing; quite the opposite. He can see how close you are to realising the truth, to understanding your father is responsible for the disappearance of your friends and other people you have lost contact with - even though he did much more than dismissing them or ordering them to stay away from you. No matter how much you love him, and he you, you are no longer a child and you deserve to know the truth about the man you live with and are so devoted to; for a moment Sanji is about to tell you, fuck the consequences, but then something -perhaps the fact that he still knows you so little, or that it is not up to him; or simply that, maybe, he’s afraid of how you could react- stops the words in his throat. “I can’t speak for your father; what I know for sure is that even if he only has your best interest at heart, he has no right to make choices that should be yours, and you deserve to know the truth.” he softly murmurs in the end; for a moment he regrets those words, fearing you could decide to confront your father with dramatic and even potentially dangerous consequences, but then you smile at him, comforted and relieved, and he can’t think about anything that is not the beauty of your face and how your naked knee has been pressing against his for the last five minutes.

🩵 You change the subject, spending a bit of time talking about your lives and your dreams; in the end, it’s time for him to go, since your father will be home soon. You walk him to the door, and “Thank you, Sanji.” you murmur, meaning those few words more than any declaration you have ever uttered; you felt so lonely until an hour before, and now you feel much better, thanks to a delicious dessert and more importantly to the young man who served it to you, out of pure, selfless worry for your well-being “I know you’re already so busy in the kitchen, so… I really appreciate you coming; I often feel lonely, but tonight in particular I didn’t want to be alone.” “I’m glad I did it. I’m sorry if you feel alone, and… well, if you need to talk, or you have nothing else to do, you know where to find me.” That is a promise Sanji knows he shouldn’t make, because no matter how fond he has grown of you, he’s still waiting for his occasion to escape and leave without looking back - which will mean you will lose another person you care for. He doesn’t want to pain you, and you don’t deserve it; but when you smile at him, your face filled with the childlike and almost painful joy of having found a new friend, Sanji knows he has done the right thing, no matter how much you both may come to regret it in the future.

🩵 From that night, a quiet friendship develops between the two of you. On the nights he sees you sad or pensive for some reason, or he simply wants to surprise you, Sanji brings a treat to your room, careful not to be seen by anyone, and you spend some time talking; in turn, you begin visiting him in the kitchen, to observe him as he works and even help with the dishes after a meal. You bring him little gifts, not necessarily costly but that he appreciates because he perceives the thoughtfulness behind the purchase: a tie in a colour you thought would look good on him, a cooking book he had mentioned he wanted to read, a new apron with his name embroidered. Slowly, quietly, you become important to each other. You appreciate the fact that unlike most people in your life Sanji does nothing to endear himself to your father -rather, he seems to dislike him a lot, even though in your presence he makes an effort to hide it; who knows why he accepted your father’s job offer, you wonder, since Sanji loathes him so much?- and that he is sincerely interested in what you have to say; in turn, Sanji can’t help appreciating your kindness and quiet intelligence, that few in your life value as they should, and thinking that you’d deserve more than living a lie, chained to a father who does not deserve you.

🩵 You are also very aware of how attractive you find each other, even though you both hesitate to make your feelings known. You fear the potential inappropriateness of a relationship, given the fact that after all you are the daughter of Sanji’s employer -you would never ask your father to fire him if you were to fight or break up, but still- and the possibility of losing what is already a precious friendship. Sanji, on the other hand, is more and more anxious with every passing day, hating himself for his inability to tell you what sort of man your father actually is; he is lying to you, though simply avoiding telling you the truth, which he knows is unacceptable both for a friend and a romantic partner, and he feels unworthy of your affection… no matter how often he fantasises about holding you in his arms and kissing you until you both forget how to breathe. What’s more, he still plans on leaving, as soon as he can; Sanji has started planning his escape since day one, keeping note of the least guarded exits of the villa and the possibility to steal a vehicle to reach the harbour, and already feels guilty at the thought that he will have to abandon you, like so many people already have. The last thing he wants to do is break your heart, making you believe he never cared for you; all things considered he should have never formed a relationship with you, not even a purely platonic one, given the fact he didn’t plan on staying and he could never give what you needed and deserved, but he couldn’t help it! You’re so lovely, so pretty and kind and devout to the people you love; how could he not become fond of you?

🩵 He is, if not confident, at least hopeful he can keep his feelings for you under control until one morning you join him in the kitchen, and ask him for cooking lessons. “I can’t do anything; not even boil an egg or cook pasta.” you admit, only partially embarrassed, because you know Sanji will not mock you, not even if you admitted you cannot even tell a fork and a knife apart “And I’d like at least to learn the basics, since it may come in useful one day when I have my own family to cook for, or maybe I could prepare something for my father to surprise him. Could you help me, Sanji? It’d be our secret, and I know you’re already so busy, but I’ll pay you…”

🩵 He immediately tells you he could never accept to be paid, and that he’ll be happy to help. From that night on, you start meeting in the kitchen at night after dinner or in moments of the day where the two of you are alone at home. Sanji is a capable teacher, patient and understanding since he appreciates your desire to learn, and you are determined not to waste his time. You start from the very basics, and as he teaches you the right time to wait to boil an egg -five minutes if you prefer a runny yolk, eight if you want to make hard-boiled egg, never go above twelve- or to calculate how much salt to put in for the pasta depending on the quantity of water, you feel happier, more active, than you remember ever being; you usually enjoy studying and your tutors are more than satisfied with your results, but this is different… not theoretical notions of history or mathematics you could never find an use for, but a practical ability that you could employ in your everyday life, either to surprise the people you love or to avoid giving yourself food poisoning. It’s nothing grandiose, only a fish soup or a plate of vegetable spaghetti, you still require Sanji’s constant supervision and make so many beginner’s mistakes, but you’re having fun, and you feel well… and all of it is due to the blonde young man next to you; you know a relationship between the two of you would probably be complicated, given the fact he works for your family, and you’re not even fully sure he has feelings for you, but in the privacy of your heart you’ve come to hope Sanji will remain part of your life, that he will not leave like so many have in the past… and that he will never lie to you.

🩵 After three months of regular classes, you decide to prepare your father’s favourite dish to serve to him as he returns from a business trip; you’re more than a little nervous, wanting to prepare it by yourself but fearing the dish is still too advanced for what you have learnt, but Sanji has faith in your abilities, and promises to warn you if you make some grave mistake. In the end, the dish turns out perfectly; Sanji is proud of you, and your heart is full of joy and gratitude for all his help. As you celebrate together, you hug him tight, and you’re about to tell him how happy you are that he is now part of your life, but a moment later, on impulse, you decide you better show him, and press your lips on his. Sanji immediately kisses you back, his chest pressed against yours as his hands hold you by the waist; it’s lovely, sweet and intimate, and like most good things it ends before you want it to, with the house door slamming and your father’s voice announcing he is back. “I better go.” you murmur sadly, loathe to end that moment of intimacy now that you have discovered how soft Sanji’s hair is as you caress it, how pleasant the feeling of his body against yours “I… I’ll see you later, alright? And… thank you, Sanji; you made me happier than I’ve ever been.” He smiles, but there is sadness in his eyes as he does, and as he lets his hands fall from your hips. “Believe me, (name); you have nothing to thank me for.”

🩵 Later that night, Sanji has just finished cleaning the kitchen and is about to return to his room when your father enters, followed by two of his bodyguards. “You have been giving (name) cooking lessons.” he states; it’s not a question, so Sanji doesn’t answer, simply standing in front of the older man; part of him fears your father knows about the kiss, since someone might have seen you as the two of you were too focused on each other to notice, but a moment later he decides he doesn’t care, since he has nothing to be ashamed of. “She told me tonight, since she didn’t want to take all the credit for the dish she had prepared for me, but I knew already; if you had hoped to keep it secret, you never could. There is nothing that happens in this house without me knowing.” Again, Sanji remains silent, and your father looks at him, a merciless look in his eyes. “I don’t mind if you teach her to cook, since it makes her happy, but I want you to know one thing; if you think about taking advantage of those moments alone to… touch my daughter, or even flirt with her, you better change your mind now. She is not for you; she deserves better than a simple cook and former pirate, and in any case she’s still too young for a relationship. You only touch her with a finger and you’re a dead man. I’m not kidding; if you think the lashing and starving you experienced when you first came here were painful, you have no idea what I’m capable of doing if you hurt my (name).”

🩵 Again, no answer. “Well? You have nothing to say in your defence?” your father asks, curious despite himself, and finally Sanji speaks. “Do you know why (name) wanted to learn to cook?” he asks “To surprise you… and because she thought it could come in handy once she has a family of her own. Your daughter is not a child; you may have done everything you could to keep her prisoner in this house, surrounded by people you trust and have chosen, but you can’t keep her from thinking with her own head. Don’t you think one day she might fall in love, desire to get married, and have a home of her own? Will you force her to live here with her spouse? Will you choose her partner for her?” Your father doesn’t answer, for once in his life taken aback; the truth that Sanji cannot know but easily perceive, is that he has already compiled a list of potential spouses for you, children of his associates or people he trusts, to casually introduce to you and have them ask you out. The last thing he wants is for you to get a crush on someone undeserving, someone he can’t trust and who would take you away from him… someone like that young blond cook who is now looking at him, rage burning in his eyes “I’m right, aren’t I? Don’t you see how everything you do hurts (name)? She is an adult, she doesn’t need to be protected! All you have done is lie to her about the sort of man you are, surround her with people who don’t really care for her instead of friends she has chosen, and stop her from learning to take care of herself! You know what the truth is? That your daughter is a lovely person, good, kind, always ready to help others, and you can’t help keeping her in the dark regarding your activities, because you know she’d be horrified about all the atrocities you have committed! You know she’d hate you, because you are a monster who doesn’t deserve her love and sure as hell you don’t deserve her!”

🩵 Sanji knows perfectly he will pay dearly for his lack of respect, and he does: your father, livid with rage at the young man, his prisoner, who has spoken to him like no one has ever dared to do and forced him to confront his sins and admit in his heart how deeply he might have ruined his relationship with you, orders his bodyguards to punish him, which they do. Once again, Sanji fights back bravely, alone against five armed opponents, and in the end is beaten to a pulp. Your father seriously considers having him killed, since the young chef is clearly trouble, and telling you he decided to resign, but you were so enthusiastic about your cooking lessons, and he doesn’t want you to have to renounce them. Furious, and scared for the first time he might seriously be unable to protect -this is the verb he uses in his mind- you from the truth, the man warns Sanji that he’ll kill him with his bare hands if he tells you anything and leaves.

🩵 The next morning you’re horrified when, coming into the kitchen to greet Sanji and ask if he needs help with breakfast, you see his bruised face, and the cautious way he walks, as if he had a broken rib or was hurting in some other way. “What on earth happened to you?!” you scream, brushing your fingers against his cheek, your heart immediately filling with pain “Did someone jump on you? Sanji, you need to tell my father, he can protect you…”

🩵 Sanji looks at you; he has known you for six months, but suddenly he feels as if he’s seeing you for the first time. “Are you sure you want to know?” he asks in a murmur, wincing at the pain shooting through his body at every breath; you blink. “Why, yes, of course, if you want to tell me…” “I’m not talking about what happened to me; well, that as well, but the whole story is much bigger than that, and concerns you more than me. Is there a way we can talk without your father or his men knowing?” He is so serious, so tense and openly worried -not for himself, perhaps- that Sanji is starting to scare you, but you keep your questions to yourself, and admit there is a corner of the villa that everyone else has all but forgotten about: a tiny shed at the back of the garden, empty except for a few tools and bags of soil no one has touched in years. As a young girl -and also, err, until six months ago- you used to go there and hide to eat sweets you had stolen from the kitchen without your father knowing; you know for sure no one else has set foot there in years. Sanji asks you to meet him at the shed that night, making sure no one sees you, and also to ensure your father doesn’t suspect you’re worried about something; you promise, and then leave, your heart heavy with fears you can’t even give a name to.

🩵 Soon after midnight that night, both you and Sanji are at the shed, having eluded the guards who patrol the estate; security has always been your father’s top priority, even though you privately think he exaggerates a bit: he keeps a large sum of money in his personal safe and you do own a few precious objects, paintings and jewels he has gifted you, but after all he is just a businessman, why does he feel the need to protect himself as if a whole army could try and invade you? Who in the world could want to hurt a good man like him?

🩵 “So? What do you have to tell me that is so important we had to meet in secret?” you ask Sanji; you have allowed yourself to hope he had asked you to come there to spend a little time alone, doing what you had started in the kitchen that night, but the expression of the man in front of you immediately dispels those romantic musings. Sanji looks scared, tense… and guilty, as if he were about to confess some grave sin he has committed; and he does, having taken your hands in his. “Before telling you the truth, I want you to know I have never wanted to hurt you; in these six months I have grown to care deeply for you, and you deserve to know what is really going on here. I should have told you months ago, as soon as I realised you knew nothing; I was afraid to do it, afraid to make you cry, and please believe me when I say I am really sorry for it.” Dumbfounded, you listen as he spills it, revealing the truth everyone you have ever known has accurately kept from you: that your father is a criminal, the head of a powerful and dangerous organisation involved in shady business of all sorts, who has threatened, tortured and killed countless people. Most of the people who you were told had suddenly resigned or decided to move away have actually been murdered, because your father couldn’t trust them to keep his secrets or were simply an obstacle for his business; some of them he has killed personally. The authorities and the police know, even though they have never been able to incriminate him, or have been bribed to look the other way.

🩵 In short, everybody knows… everybody except you, his daughter. “As far as I understood, he has always made sure to keep you in the dark; he has surrounded you with people he trusts to keep his secret, didn’t let you go to school, always has his men accompany you wherever you go… and probably has spread the word that anyone who made you aware of the truth would pay with their life.” Sanji explains; you’re sitting on a pair of old garden chairs, your hands in his, a chaste but sweet intimacy you are at the moment unable to appreciate “I know it’s a shock; but your father… I do believe he loves you very much, and would never hurt you, but he is not the man you think he is; he has lied to you your whole life, even choosing your friends for you and making sure you remained under his influence, to stop you from thinking for yourself and realise you are a prisoner in your own life. I’m sorry I’m upsetting you; but I know you deserve to know the truth.”

🩵 Sanji looks at you, afraid you’re going to faint or to start screaming any moment, but you don’t; dumbfounded, you remain on your chair as you feel all your life, everything you thought true and safe, your whole world, crumbling around you. Your father, the kind, patient man who taught you to ride a bike and knelt to check there were no monsters under your bed, is a criminal - no, he is a murdererer, a man who resorted to violence to reach his goals and kept you completely in the dark, forcing you in a bubble where nothing is what it seems and all the people you came in contact with were actors playing a part. Everything you own - everything he has given you, from your education to the clothes on your back, is the results of those crimes; everyone you ever cared for, and who appeared to care for you, had been chosen, paid, or even threatened by him, in order to surround you with people he trusted would keep up his ruse. You feel as if your life until now had been a dream, from which you’re finally waking up… to discover reality is a thousand times worse than you could have ever imagined.

🩵 What will you do from now on?, you wonder. Even Sanji admits your father, for all the crimes he committed and the cruelty he treated so many people with, loves you deeply and has never wanted to hurt you, but you only need to reflect for a moment to know you can’t remain with him, going on as if you never knew the truth; you don’t even know how you’ll be able to look at him in the face from now on, and the last thing you want is to keep eating the food, living in the house and enjoying all the comforts his criminal activities have paid for. But what else can you do, given the fact that you own nothing that your father hasn’t given to you? You are not afraid to work hard and you could find a job to support yourself, but disgust, shame, and fear for the future make you feel as if you could suffocate. You need to act, you think, to stop your father and find a way to make up for his crimes; you did nothing wrong, you honestly never suspected anything, but having benefited from his crimes more than anyone else you have the duty to do something. But what?

🩵 Sanji is still by your side, silently and patiently waiting for you to come to terms with the truth; in the end he sees you sigh, and straighten your back as you remind yourself you have more important and urgent things to take care of before succumbing to a mental breakdown. “Was it my father who did this to you?” you murmur quietly as you brush your fingers against one of the many bruises on his face; your touch is gentle and delicate, and Sanji feels himself leaning into it, his heart full of tenderness. “It was; well, his men, but the order came to him.” he reveals, hating himself for the guilt and shame he sees reflected on your face “He also had me kidnapped to have him work for him; his men waited for a moment where I was alone, and my friends have no idea what happened to me.”

🩵 “Oh, that explains everything…” you murmur, and confess that a couple of months ago, while your father’s men had accompanied Sanji to the shops to buy provisions, two people had come to the villa, claiming that their friend, who they had been looking for after he had disappeared, was working there: a red-haired girl and a boy with a straw hat. You had heard your father deny knowing Sanji, and tell them that there was no one matching his description at the villa, whatever the two had heard. “I… happened to pass by the door as they were talking, and listened from behind a corner; later I confronted my father, asking him why he had lied to those two, and he told me that you had confided in him that someone could come looking for you, a crew of pirates who had kidnapped you some time ago, and that he was only trying to protect you. I… thought it was a bit of an unlikely story, but I trusted my father, and he asked me not to tell you anything because it would only upset you to know your former captors were onto you once more.” you admit, your heart full of guilt; had you been less naive, you could have saved Sanji months of captivity! “I am so sorry, Sanji, I should have told you…!”

🩵 Luffy and the others had been looking for him! If only he hadn’t been out of the villa at that moment, Sanji thinks with a sigh, but it can’t be helped, and he knows his friends will not give up until they have found him. “What are you going to do now?” he asks once he has reassured you he doesn’t blame you for having kept silent on a matter he dearly wished he had known about, and with a sigh you recognise you have a duty to expose your father and make sure he pays for his crimes; for this purpose, tomorrow you will wait for him to have left, find as many incriminating documents as you can in his study, and bring them to the local police. In part, despite everything, you feel ashamed, because he has been a good, doting father to you and you’re going to put him in jail for the rest of his life, but his victims deserve justice, and if you don’t act there’s no knowing how many more people he could hurt and kill. Sanji promises he will come with you, and you decide that in the morning you will pretend to feel sick and remain in bed; he will come to serve you breakfast, and together you will slip over to your father’s study, hopefully unnoticed.

🩵 It’s time for both of you to return to bed, and pretend nothing is amiss. Instead of the ardent kisses the more naive, innocent you -in other words, the girl you were an hour ago; and yet, you feel as if you had aged a decade since then, almost not recognising the scared, jaded person you are now- had hoped you would exchange taking advantage of the privacy of the shed, you simply embrace, both apologising and forgiving the pain you indirectly inflicted on each other. That night, after you have said goodbye to Sanji and stolen back to your room, you lay awake in your bed and cry silently, mourning a man you had loved and trusted with all your heart and who, perhaps, never existed to begin with.

🩵 On the next morning, hearing you don’t feel well your father offers to call for the doctor, but you convince him you just need to rest for a while and you’ll feel better soon; he kisses you good-bye, a kiss you force yourself to respond to with a smile even though it tastes like poison. An hour later Sanji comes to your room with a tray full of food that remains untouched; you succeed in walking to your father’s study without being noticed, and after you locked yourselves inside you begin searching for the proves of his crimes - which you find pretty easily, in the form of letters and photographs that connect your father to a long list of crimes, including several murders. Sanji opens the safe hidden behind a painting, containing several bundles of banknotes… and an old paper envelope, with your name written on it. It’s a letter, you discover after opening it, from a woman whose name you have never heard… and who claims to be your mother. “I… I can’t believe it; he always told me my mother died when I was born.” you murmur, once more appalled by the magnitude of your father’s lies “Here it says that he forced her to leave me to him, after promising he would give me this letter when I was ten, so that I could decide if I wanted to meet her or not.” He never did, no doubt as part of his all-encompassing plan to keep you for himself, preventing you from forming relationships out of his sphere of influence. Your own mother has been alive all this time and you didn’t know! This is the ultimate betrayal, a breach of trust you know you will never be able to forgive him for, but you have no time to reflect on the potential consequences of this discovery, because suddenly your father’s men are knocking at the door, having realised both you and Sanji are not where you should; you are able to escape through the window, and he defends you from the men who try to stop you.

🩵 Fortunately, the local head of police is one your father has never been able to bribe or intimidate, and hates him with all his might; he’s at first suspicious of you, fearing this is all a plan your father orchestrated against him, but he changes his mind when you hand him enough evidence to formally accuse your father of at least a dozen crimes. The whole time, as you answer the many questions the police has for you, Sanji remains by your side, holding your hand and silently reassuring you have done the right thing; you are too heart-broken, too full with self-loathing and shame and fear for the future to find some comfort in it, but you are nonetheless happy, and relieved, at least one person in your life respected and cared for you enough to prevent you from living the rest of your life in a lie.

🩵 Hours later, as you are still at the police headquarters, your father is brought in escorted by a small army of agents, his hands cuffed. When he sees you, for a moment he thinks you’ve also been arrested, perhaps on suspicion of having taken part in some of his crimes, but then he sees Sanji next to you, and the way you are looking at him, ashamed and furious and heartbroken, and the truth dawns on him; he looks away, and lets the agents lead him to his cell. “You can talk to him, if you want, provided that one or two agents are present.” the head of police informs you, but you shake your head: you have nothing to tell him, and you don’t have the heart to find out what he thinks of you now that he knows you have betrayed him.

🩵 Now that your father will pay for his crimes, your next intent is to help Sanji return to his friends - which is easier said than done, since while the Straw Hat Pirates may have suspected their cook was kept in your home against his will, months have passed since then and now they could be looking for him on the other side of the sea. Suddenly, you have an idea: knowing Sanji’s friends have the paper delivered to their ship, and that the news of your father’s arrest will appear on the front page, you pay for a message to be printed at the bottom of the article, with Sanji’s name and your Den Den Mushi number, through which his friends will be able to contact him. Sanji thanks you for your help, and tells you how brave you have been to expose your father knowing well how your life would change from then on, but you don’t feel particularly proud of yourself, let alone worthy of being praised: rather, you feel empty, dirty, on account on the kinship with your father, and alone, knowing that you have no fault for his crimes, and at the same time that no matter how much you do to rectify them, you will never stop feeling guilty for having remained blind to the truth.

🩵 Another unconfessable source of pain is the fact that Sanji will leave soon to rejoin his friends, leaving you completely alone. He’s the only friend you have left, the sole person you know for sure has stood by you and offered his friendship of his own accord and not because your father has paid or threatened him, and even though you have only known each other for six months you can’t imagine your life without him, and you know you’ll miss him terribly for the rest of your life. The truth is, you have grown more than a little fond of him, and while you wish you could ask him to remain there with you, not necessarily in the role of a paid chef, you know Sanji has suffered more than enough at the hands of your family, and even just an offer he could be free to decline would be unjustifiably egotistical of you. You do know -or is it simply wishful thinking? After all, for all you know, perhaps he has a girlfriend waiting for him somewhere, perhaps that very pretty red-haired girl who came looking for him months ago- Sanji cares for you, and you are confident he will remember you fondly; that is - that has to be enough.

🩵 As you expected and hoped, the newspaper with the message for Sanji’s friends -and a four pages-long article regarding your father’s arrest and the revelation of his crimes, with so many people now coming forward to attest the abuse and violence they suffered by his hand- has only been circulating for a few hours when your Den Den Mushi receives a call from Straw Hat Luffy himself. Twenty-four hours later, Sanji and his friends are together once again; the others thank you profoundly for what you did, even though you still feel unworthy of their gratitude, convinced as you are that your father’s cruelty and crimes have rubbed off on you, if only because you were too naive, too dumb, to realise what was going on, and you deserve the solitude and shame you already feel.

🩵 You offer Luffy and the others to stay at the villa for the night, before they -including Sanji- depart to resume their journey. That night, the two of you take a walk in the garden, enjoying what you know is your last moment together. “What will you do now?” Sanji asks after a while, and after he has taken your hand in his as you walk, and you admit you are not sure. “I want nothing of what my father owns; I have decided to sell the house, and the proceeds, and all of his money, will go to his victims, the people he wronged and hurt, and their families. It will not cancel his crimes, or bring back the people he killed, but it’s better than nothing. The designer clothes, the jewellery, all the precious things he bought me… I will give everything away; I want to own nothing I have to thank him for, even if it means going around naked and starving.” you explain “All I want to keep is the little money I earned recently with a summer job I had at the company of a friend of his; that I think I earned, even though it was my father who got me the job… and I will use it to go look for my mother. I know where she lived when I was born, and when she wrote that letter; I will go there, and if I can’t find her, well, I will decide on the moment.” Sanji agrees it’s an excellent idea, and that finding your mother will surely make you feel better and help you give a new direction to your life. For a moment he seems about to say something else, but then he bites his lip, and swallows, and “May I kiss you?” he asks in a murmur, and thank all the Gods the night is pitch black, because this time you’re outside. An hour later Sanji walks you back to your room, and after a moment of embarrassment you part at the door.

🩵 The next morning you accompany Sanji and his friends to the harbour, and as the others carry the provisions you have insisted they take -almost all the food that once filled the house’s pantry, and that would have otherwise gone to waste, since you plan on leaving that very day as well- Sanji thanks you for all your help and hands you a paper envelope. “Please read it after we have left.” he asks you, and you promise, unsure of what it could mean but willing to trust him. “I don’t know what I will do without all the good things you have prepared for me.” you murmur, forcing a smile despite the tears that fill your eyes; you’re only partially comforted by the fact that Sanji is clearly as upset as you are. He kisses your hand, and a moment later he has climbed aboard, leaving you alone.

🩵 You remain on the pier until the candid sails of the ship have disappeared on the horizon, a gentle wind pushing it towards lands you don’t even know the name of; as a new warm day rises around you, you open the envelope in your hands, finding as you expected a message from Sanji, short but sufficient to fill your heart with joy. “My darling (name); I know you want to find your mother, but once you have met her would you like to join our crew? Luffy and the others would be happy to have you, and I think you’d enjoy being a pirate. I care for you more than I can put into words; you would make me the happiest man in the world if you just let me show it to you. Take your time, the offer always stands; I know you will make the right choice. With all my love, your devoted chef Sanji.”

#One Piece #One Piece Live Action #OPLA #Sanji #Sanji x reader #Taz Skylar #Bellona's stuff #100 notes

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writteninlunarlight-years · 2 months ago

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This is a gift to a friend going through a hard time. You know who you are, and I want you to know you are beautiful and capable of accomplishing anything. This is part 2 of the original piece called On Standby TW: Abuse, Sexual Assult, Toxic relationships, Hurt/Comfort

When you first waltzed into his life, he was utterly bewildered. How could someone so radiant be sent to the depths of hell? It was like light on the darkest night, and he couldn't help but be captivated.

You possessed a rare blend of kindness and gentleness. Yet, you wielded an undeniable fierceness in marketing and promotions, effortlessly captivating audiences while conquering the business realm.

He couldn't deny the truth that tugged at his heart—his feelings for you ran deep. But with the knowledge that you were already taken, he resolved to be content with friendship, even as his heart whispered for something more.

At first, when he spotted those intriguing marks on your skin, he chuckled to himself, thinking perhaps you and your partner were just exploring new heights of passion in the bedroom. They were perfectly placed, teasing and tantalizing, leaving him with a cheeky grin.

But the moment a black eye and fresh scratches marred your beauty, his amusement evaporated. No longer able to brush it aside, he felt the fire of anger ignite within him.

Fueled by concern, he confronted your partner, hoping to clear the air. Instead, his intervention only escalated tensions, creating a chasm between you and Vox that seemed impossible to bridge.

Yet, despite the boundaries you set, his concern did not wane. He became your silent guardian, checking in on you from the shadows, always ready to shield you from harm, even if it meant stepping back in the light.

The turning point came when you arrived at work limping, your usual spark dimmed. It was a sight that twisted his gut with worry and dread.

His rage boiled over when he overheard you in the bathroom, lamenting the blood that dripped from your wounds. Each word was like a dagger to his heart, igniting a fierce determination to ensure you never suffered again.

Without hesitation, he followed you home, righteous anger fueling his steps. He was ready to confront your abuser, to unleash a storm of retribution.

Just as he was about to strike you for being messy, Vox steped in, taking the brunt of the blow meant for you. Blood pooled at the corner of his mouth, yet he laughed through the pain, a haunting sound that echoed with defiance.

The battle erupted, and Vox revealed himself to be more than just a figure of TV—he was a powerful overlord, and the whispers of him being merely a show pony were swiftly silenced.

With a strength that complimented his demeanor, Vox protected you fiercely, leaving no trace of your partner as he mind-controlled him into a fate from which there was no return.

When the dust settled, Vox knelt before you, a picture of remorse and sincerity. He begged for forgiveness, even though you felt none was necessary. His heart was laid bare, and the weight of his regret filled the air.

You were then whisked away to a luxurious apartment in Vee Tower, where you were treated like royalty, every whim catered to as you began to heal.

It took time, but slowly you learned to open your heart to Vox once more. You had to admit, despite the chaos, he was one hell of a gentleman—a fierce protector who had stolen your heart in the most unexpected way.

He was the kind of charming idiot that everyone adored somehow—a true 'heartthrob', effortlessly drawing people into his orbit. Well, everyone except you, it seemed; you saw through his facade.

You two shared a close friendship, being among the first angels of this new generation after him. Despite that bond, your heart was set on someone else, leaving the door to your emotions firmly shut.

Adam fully acknowledged his own flaws as an arrogant jerk, but in the grand scheme of things, the man who had captured your attention was even more insufferable—a true master of manipulation.

Yet, Adam was content, as long as you remained a part of his life. After Eve, he didn’t have much to hold onto, and your friendship was a light in his otherwise dim world.

He understood that his womanizing ways and brash attitude weren’t what you sought in a partner. Still, had you asked him to leap, he would have done so without hesitation, wanting nothing more than to please you.

At first, Adam was oblivious to the emotional turmoil and manipulation you were enduring with your partner. He was the original first man, after all, preoccupied with his own power and goals.

However, when he noticed your once-bright sparkle begin to fade, everything in his world came to a grinding halt. Concern grew like a shadow over him.

Adam repeatedly asked what was troubling you, but you only offered vague replies about “relationship issues,” leaving him frustrated and worried.

When the first marks appeared on your skin, it ignited a flame of fury within him. He swiftly issued an arrest for your partner, but your heartfelt pleas for mercy led to your partner's release.

The tipping point came when you found yourself in the infirmary of the General Angel Hospital—a typically tranquil place—after your partner had used angelic steel to carve his name into your flesh. The sight shattered Adam’s heart.

Enraged and fueled by a protective instinct, Adam did what any of God’s favorites would do—he smote your partner, unleashing divine retribution.

Arriving at your old home, Adam unleashed his wrath, reducing it to rubble. Though he sustained only minor injuries, your partner was now long gone, justice served in a devastating fashion.

Adam sought you out in the infirmary, where he poured his heart out, confessing his feelings for you in a flood of sincerity and vulnerability. It was a touching yet awkward display of affection.

But you weren’t ready to embrace those feelings, and he respected your need for space. Instead, he dedicated himself to caring for you, standing steadfast by your side throughout your healing journey.

Over the years, Adam transformed; he mellowed and became less of a jerk, focusing his playful charm solely on you. It soon became clear that choosing Adam as the one you wanted to love for eternity was not just easy, but inevitable.

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yourstrqly · 10 months ago

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. ⋆⠀ MISS GRUMPY AND HER SUNSHINE

alex can be a pain in the ass, but he is your pain in the ass — or in which i showcase the grumpy x sunshine trope cause i'm a sucker for it (and alex)

none, female reader (use of girlfriend), just making out in the end

masterlist . part two

days in the office, a small not very well isolated room you shared with another colleague of the social marketing, tended to be very long and seemingly never reaching an end but today, today was otherworldly, as you glanced at the small display of the time at the corner of your laptop. the numbers didn't change fast enough. if they even did.

your work had been done an hour or so ago but you weren't allowed to leave as it was still working hours, and maybe, just maybe someone would turn up to let you know there was a video of the crew or the drivers to edit. so you sat there, chair becoming uncomfortable under your ass while you stared into space because you were the only one in department in today, no one there to chat with.

truly heartbreaking, you'd much rather go back to the hotel to sleep for awhile.

as you watched the two turn into a three, silently hummung a song you've heard this morning, the thin grey office door opened, causing you to peep up — the other side revealed a dishevelled looking alex, a bright toothy grin on his lips and excitement glinting in his brown doe eyes. you let out an overdramatic sigh, repositioning yourself on the chair.

"yes, alex, what brings you to the enemy?", you questioned him, face morphed into a bored facade whilst you clasped fingers around the pen you had currently played with.

alas alex wasn't one to shy away from your defensive side, strolling right besides you to plant himself on your desk. "what, can't a man see his beautiful girlfriend?", hands enclosed your much smaller ones. "is it a crime, i wasn't aware of, darling?"

pinching your eyebrows you tabed the pen against his leg. "you can but not while i'm working — as you should too, mind you!" You're painfully aware of the free display, a picture with him and you on the yearly Vietnam holiday staring right back at you, and the no work vibe you had going on — things he'd surly point out.

"m sorry, you seem very busy . . should i come back later after you burned a hole in the screen?", he joked, wearing that stupid grin your mouth instantly wanted to mirror.

little teasing shit, man whom you layed your heart strings openly.

"whatever. . you here to see me for what? in a few hours we're back in bed."

gently his knuckles caressed your cheeks, before his hands land on either other, leaning in to steal a kiss from your lips. his lips were a tad bit tried, probably from being outside most of the day in the heat, but they fit yours and your lips parted to welcome his tongue, while your hands tugged on the hair of his nape.

you broke apart, enjoying the soft gasp that left your throat and the cheeky smirk of his. "i know, just missed you and took a break to see you", he shared. "i also want a coffee, it tastes way better here."

shaking your head, you moved away from his body to prepare him said coffee, caring on the hummung of the song earlier and alex joins in, voice small yet strong enough to make sense out of the words. unconstitutionally, a tiny smile graced your lips, one alex could clearly see.

"bunny, what's got you smiling like that, hm? my singing?", the william's driver teased, crossing the room to stand behind you. he shakes his lean slightly bulky arms around you, pressing a kiss on top of your haircrown.

"ow shut up, al, or you can go back to your shitbox", you grumbled, but your body speaks a different language as you lean into him, sniffing his vanilla and spices perfume, a scent that calmed your nerves and bought good memories.

"but you wouldn't, bunny", he giggled. "you love me so much", the man sung in-between butterfly kisses, "so so much."

turning around in his embrace, you pouted. "should've ignored you back in 'nineteen, would've been a much less busy life f'me." "i was way too cute to ignore, just say you love me."

"whatever", you release a breath.

expectantly, your lover stared down on you.

"okay, fine, i love you", you hushed, neck burning from the outspoken confession. "happy now?"

"oh bunny, with you i'm always happy but hearing those three magical words make me swoon", he pressed the back of his left hand against his forehead, signing dramatically. "now gimme kisses, my grumpy bunny."

the coffee sat long forgotten on the sideboard as alex took your breath away with feverish kisses and wandering hands, caressing down your back to your ass, squeezing it lightly.

[ and then the atmosphere broke. "—ow not again guys", a wide eyed charles stood in the door, causing the pair of you to spring apart. "just two races in the season and i'm already sick of you." ]

wanna be tagged in my works? comment below :)

🗝 . . . tag list — currently empty

rina speaks • ₊° ✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ . . [ 🪐 ] ahhh alex albon, the loml, my baby. missed writing for him and i'm actually desperate for other people's writing. we need more aa23 writers!! please let me know if you have more grumpy reader x sunshine alex ideas

#f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #alex albon imagine #alex albon x reader #f1 fanfic #alex albon #alex albon fluff

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 3 months ago

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🎃 Kinktober 2024: DNA

DNA: After a tumultuous relationship that crashed and burned with Shanks, you decide that you are done waiting for the opportunity to have a child with the man you love. You will simply go out and find a man with desirable traits and looks, and fuck them until you are pregnant. Seems like a good idea does it not?

Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit Material, Breeding.

To Note: Shanks x AFAB!Reader.

Prompt: Breeding

Word Count: ~6.1k

You stand at the edge of the dock, the salty sea air whipping through your hair as you scan the horizon. The Grandline stretches out before you, a vast expanse of unpredictable waters and islands teeming with adventure and danger. Your mission is clear: find the perfect man to father your child, a man who embodies strength, intelligence, and heart. Not the idiocy all too easily found within the Grandline.

As you walk through the bustling port town, the cacophony of merchants hawking their wares and sailors exchanging tall tales fades into the background. You're searching for something—or rather, someone—specific. You pass by a group of pirates, their laughter boisterous and their eyes alight with mischief. They're not what you're looking for.

You make your way to a tavern known for its rowdy crowd and even rowdier patrons. The air is thick with the scent of ale and the promise of a brawl. You slide onto a stool at the bar, your eyes scanning the room. A man with a scarred face and a smirk that spells trouble catches your eye, but you look away. He's not the one.

A conversation at a nearby table draws your attention. A navigator speaks animatedly about the latest bounties, his voice rich with knowledge of the Grand Line's treacherous currents. You listen, intrigued. Could he be a candidate? But as the navigator laughs, you notice the absence of a certain spark in his eyes. You need more than just knowledge; you need someone with a fire in their soul and sound ideology. AKA: not an idiot.

It was nearly a task of impossible proportions.

You're about to leave the tavern when a group of men stumbles in, the stench of cheap rum following them. The leader, a towering brute with a bounty on his head that speaks of his audacity, bellows with laughter. His crew hangs on his every word, but you see through the facade. His genes carry the burden of a life fueled by mindless violence and poor decision-making. He's not the father you envision for your child.

As you step out into the humid night, a lone figure catches your eye. He's a bounty hunter, his sharp gaze scanning the crowd, a testament to his vigilance. There's an air of calculated danger about him, and you can tell he's survived more than his fair share of skirmishes. But survival isn't the only trait you're after. You want a legacy of honor and wisdom, not just cunning and ruthlessness. To know when to not bother with a fight is a must. You leave him behind, his presence fading into the cacophony of the night.

You wander through the market, where a scholarly man is deep in conversation with a group of children, his eyes alight with the joy of imparting knowledge. There's an aura of intelligence and kindness around him, but you can't help but think he's too soft for the world you live in, too naive. Your child will need more than just a gentle heart; they'll need the grit to thrive in a world that's as unforgiving as it is beautiful.

The day wanes, and the list of men you've encountered grows, yet none of them fit the bill. You pass by warriors, poets, and rogues, each with their unique strengths and flaws, but none who embody all you seek. Thoughts of Shanks, with his fiery spirit and unwavering resolve, keep surfacing. You find yourself comparing every man to him, to the quiet strength he carries, to the way he stands as a beacon of what it truly means to be a pirate—one who lives by a code, who carries a dream that's larger than life itself.

Frustration gnaws at you as another day closes without a suitable candidate. The men here are brave, some are even kind, but none possess the exceptional combination of traits you desire for your child's future. Shanks had set the bar impossibly high, and it seems the Grand Line is short of men who can reach it. You sigh, the weight of your quest resting heavy on your shoulders. Is it too much to ask for a man whose spirit can match the legends of the sea? It appears so.

You walk through the narrow alleys, your mind drifting to Shanks. The memories flood back—moments stolen between the chaos of your lives. You remember the first time you met him, his red hair catching the sunlight, his laughter infectious. He was different from anyone you'd ever met. He had a fire in his eyes, a dream that seemed impossible yet within reach.

Your relationship with Shanks has always been a tempestuous one. When you're together, the world seems to pause, as if it knows it cannot compete with the intensity of your connection. Your bodies fit together like pieces of a puzzle, each touch igniting a spark that burns brighter than any star in the Grand Line. But it's not just physical; there's an emotional depth that you rarely find. You can see it in the way he looks at you, his eyes softening as if he's seeing a part of himself reflected in you.

Yet, something always pulls you apart. His responsibilities as one of the Four Emperors demand his attention, and your own quest for purpose drives you in different directions. You recall the nights spent on his ship, wrapped in his arm as he whispered dreams of freedom and adventure into your ear. Those moments are fleeting but precious, like rare gems hidden among the rocks.

"Y/N," he had once said, tracing patterns on your skin with his hand. "You know we can't stay together forever. Our paths are too different."

"I know," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "But does it always have to be this way?"

He sighed, pressing his forehead against yours. "For now, yes. But that doesn't mean I don't love you."

Those words echo in your mind as you navigate through the bustling market. It's not just love; it's a deep-rooted understanding that binds you both—a shared dream of a world where freedom reigns supreme. But dreams have a way of demanding sacrifices.

You've tried to move on, to find someone who could match what Shanks has given you, but every attempt falls short. The men you meet lack the depth, the fire, the sheer audacity that defines Shanks. The precise audacity that you fell in love with. His curvy smile, eyes that never cease to catch your breath, a touch you constantly crave…

If it's not one thing you desire from him, it's another and it is ruining your life. That's why you've decided to have a child now. You aren't getting any younger and you can't remain hung up on hazel eyes and red hair for the rest of your life.

Another night without finding a suitable man.

You sigh heavily to yourself and head back to your hotel room.

Shanks stands at the helm of the Red Force, his gaze fixed on the sprawling town that hugs the coast of the Grandline. The salty air fills his lungs, carrying whispers of a familiar name—one that stirs something deep within his chest. You, the person who has left an indelible mark on his heart, is in search of a man to father your child. The thought sends a pang through him, a cocktail of raging jealousy and possessiveness that he hadn't anticipated.

He recalls the last time you were together, the warmth of your bodies entwined, the softness of your voice as you spoke of your long standing dreams and desires. Family, happiness, love. The memory is a bittersweet reminder of what you and Shanks constantly butt heads over. Shanks had always believed he couldn't tie you down to him, that your paths needed to diverge, but the idea of you bearing another man's child is a reality he's unprepared to face. He refuses to accept such a thing.

Shanks grips the railing of the Red Force harder, his knuckles now white against the wood. The town lies ahead, bustling with life and noise, but his mind is miles away. Thoughts of you swirl like a storm, darkening his mood.

"What's got you all broody, Captain?" Benn Beckman approaches, cigarette dangling from his lips, his rifle slung casually over his shoulder.

Shanks turns slightly, his eyes still fixed on the horizon. "Heard some gossip," he says, voice tight. "Y/N's looking for a man to father their child."

Benn raises an eyebrow, the cigarette shifting between his lips. That wasn't a secret, the whole bloody Grandline knew that. That and your apparent pickiness…"Is that so?"

Shanks nods, jaw clenched. "Yeah. They're out there, searching for someone... suitable."

Benn exhales a plume of smoke, studying Shanks with a knowing look. "And how does that make you feel?"

"I'm not bothered," Shanks lies, his tone unconvincing even to himself. "It's their life."

Benn chuckles softly. "Sure, Captain. You're not bothered at all."

Shanks finally turns to face him, a flicker of anger in his eyes. "I mean it, Benn."

"Right." Benn's voice drips with sarcasm. "Just like you're not bothered when someone touches your sake without asking."

Shanks lets out a frustrated sigh, running his hand through his red hair. He knows Benn can see right through him. The entire crew can.

"Look," Benn says, stepping closer. "Everyone on this ship knows you and Y/N are in love. You can try to hide it all you want, but it's plain as day."

Shanks grunts in response, but doesn't deny it.

Benn continues, "So what's really eating at you? Is it that they're looking for someone else or that you can't stand the thought of Y/N bearing someone else's child?"

Shanks closes his eyes briefly, the weight of Benn's words sinking in. "Both," he admits quietly. "But you are well aware that we fight like cat's and dog's half the time."

Shanks clenches his jaw, frustration gnawing at him. The idea of you with someone else is like a thorn lodged in his chest, refusing to budge. He grips the railing tighter, feeling the worn wood creak and groan beneath his grasp.

Benn takes a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling slowly. "It still doesn't change anything, Shanks," he says, voice calm and steady. "Y/N's gonna do what they want, regardless if you're in the equation. They're not gonna wait for you forever."

Shanks's eyes narrow, a storm brewing behind them. He knows Benn is right; you've always been fiercely independent, driven by your own desires and dreams. Like a dog with a bone, a child with a blanket. But that knowledge does little to soothe the turmoil within him.

"So the question is," Benn continues, leaning in slightly, "are you going to let another man have that pleasure?"

Shanks's heart pounds in his chest, each beat echoing like a drum. The thought of you with another man, sharing the same kind of intimacy you've shared with him, is unbearable. It's not just jealousy—it's a deep-rooted sense of possession and protectiveness that he can't shake.

"I can't stand the thought," Shanks admits, his voice raw and unguarded. "But what can I do? Our paths are different."

Benn snorts softly, shaking his head. "Paths can change, Captain. You know that better than anyone."

Shanks looks at Benn, searching for any hint of mockery or jest but finds only sincerity. He thinks back to all the times he's chosen duty over personal desire, to the sacrifices he's made for the sake of his crew and his dream.

"But what if it's too late?" Shanks's voice wavers slightly, a rare crack in his usually unflappable demeanor.

"It's never too late," Benn replies firmly. "Not if it matters enough."

Shanks stares out at the town again, the bustling life below seeming distant and unimportant compared to the turmoil inside him. Benn's words resonate deeply within him. Paths can change.

For once in his life, Shanks finds himself at a crossroads where duty and desire clash head-on. The idea of you bearing another man's child is a future he can't accept—not when he knows deep down that you're meant to be part of his life.

A fierce determination ignites within him as he makes up his mind. He's never backed down from a challenge before, and he's not about to start now.

Shanks straightens up, resolve hardening in his chest. He strides across the deck, the sea breeze ruffling his red hair. His crew watches him, sensing the shift in their captain's demeanor. They know he's finally pulled his head out of his ass.

"Snake!" Shanks calls out, his voice carrying over the sound of the waves crashing against the Red Force.

Building Snake, one of the senior officers and their trusted navigator, looks up from his charts. His eyes narrow slightly as he takes in Shanks's determined expression. "Aye, Captain?"

"Make a correction," Shanks orders, his tone leaving no room for questions. "We're changing course!"

The sun beats down on Spa Island, casting a golden hue over the heated pools and sparkling waterfalls. You sit on a lounge chair by the milk bath, dressed in one of your nicest bathing suits. The fabric clings to your skin, a reminder of the few pleasures you allow yourself in this relentless quest. You watch as couples and families enjoy the island's many luxuries, their laughter and joy contrasting sharply with your current mood.

A scowl tugs at your lips. Every man you've met so far has fallen short of your expectations. No one even comes remotely close to the ideal man you envision as the father of your child. Your thoughts keep drifting back to Shanks, but you push them away with a frustrated huff. Why does he always have to haunt you?

You close your eyes, trying to block out the noise and find some semblance of peace. But it’s no use; the more you try to relax, the more agitated you become. The hunt for the perfect man feels like an impossible task, and it's wearing you down. You aren't getting any younger either…

Sighing heavily, you decide you need some time alone. Away from the happy couples and their blissful ignorance of your struggle. You rise from your lounge chair and head toward the reception area, the cool tiles soothing against your bare feet.

"I'd like to book a private experience in one of the spa rooms," you tell the receptionist, who nods politely and hands you a key.

Room 17.

You walk down a corridor lined with doors, each leading to a private oasis of tranquility. As you reach Room 17, you unlock the door and step inside, closing it behind you with a soft click. The room is bathed in warm light, the air filled with the scent of lavender and eucalyptus. A large tub sits in the center, sunk into the floor with steam rising invitingly from its surface.

You strip off your bathing suit and slip into the tub, letting out a sigh as the hot water envelops you. Yet the warm embrace of the spa's waters does little to quell the storm brewing within you. The quest for a suitable man weighs heavily on your mind, a constant reminder of your ticking biological clock. You close your eyes, trying to find solace in the solitude, but peace eludes you.

A sudden noise startles you, and your eyes snap open. There, standing at the entrance of the private spa room, is Shanks. His tall, muscular frame fills the doorway, his red hair catching the soft glow of the room's ambient lighting. His presence is as jarring as a cannonball amidst the tranquility.

His single hand is clasped around the handle of the door, his hazel eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sends a jolt through you. "Shanks," you breathe, taken aback by his unexpected intrusion. "What are you doing here?"

He steps into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click, before the lock is engaged. The air shifts, charged with an energy that makes your heart race with agitation. Here you are, trying to relax, and now he's interrupting you! "I heard about your... quest," he says, his voice a low rumble of displeasure.

You bristle at his words, feeling a surge of defensiveness. "And what of it?" you retort, the hostility in your voice echoing off the tiled walls. "Is there a problem with me wanting to be happy?"

Shanks' gaze never wavers, piercing into you as he takes another step closer. "You're looking for a man to father your child," he states, each word landing like a blow. "Are you really going to let just anyone take that role?"

Anger flares within you, fueled by frustration and the sting of his words. "I'm not getting any younger, Shanks," you snap, your voice rising. "I want a family, something I can call my own. Is that so hard to understand?"

His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "But why them? Why any of them, when you know they're not right for you, for your child?"

You rise from the water, droplets trailing down your skin, heat flushing your cheeks as your gaze locks with Shanks' "Because I'm tired of waiting for something that might never happen!" you sharply exclaim, drops of water cascading down your naked body. "I can't keep living in the past, clinging to memories of what we had. I need to move forward, even if that means doing it alone."

His hazel eyes bore into yours with a ferocity that knocks the wind of argument right out of you. "I can't stand the thought of another man touching you, let alone— " His voice cuts off abruptly, a frustrated growl releasing from his chest as he struggles to maintain control.

Why is he here? Why now?

The questions swirl in your mind, but you can't find the words to voice them. Instead, you watch in stunned silence as Shanks begins to undress. His fingers sharply work the buttons of his shirt, revealing the taut muscles of his chest. His belt is next, followed by the rest of his clothes, until he stands before you completely naked.

Your train of thought screeches to a halt, replaced by a singular, undeniable reality: Shanks, the man who has haunted your dreams and consumed your thoughts, is here, in the flesh, baring not just his body but his soul to you. The stump of his left arm, proof of his sacrifice and strength, doesn't faze you. You've seen it countless times before, each scar and mark a chapter in the story of his life.

"The only person who has the honor of giving you a child," Shanks declares, his voice firm and unyielding, "is me."

The words hang in the air, a bold proclamation that sends a shiver down your spine. You're caught between disbelief and a fierce, gnawing desire that you've fought so hard to suppress. The thought of bearing Shanks's child—a living, breathing testament to the love that binds you both—is both exhilarating and terrifying. Had you not had this conversation before? He had already told you no…

"Shanks, we—" Your voice falters, the words catching in your throat as you struggle to form a coherent argument. But the sight of him, unabashedly naked and radiating conviction, makes it impossible to think clearly.

"No," he interrupts, stepping closer. "We've both made sacrifices for our dreams, but this... this is something I can't compromise on. I won't let another man take my place, not when it comes to you."

You stand there, dripping wet, as Shanks steps into the sunken tub, his gaze never leaving yours. The water rises around his calves, his thighs, but he doesn't seem to notice, his focus solely on you. Your heart pounds in your chest, a wild drumbeat that echoes in your ears as he approaches.

His presence is overwhelming, a force of nature that leaves you reeling. The warmth of the water does nothing to prepare you for the heat that radiates off his skin as he draws nearer. You're rooted to the spot, caught in the gravity of his gaze, his haki, your breath hitching in your throat as he reaches out and cups your face with his hand.

Shanks leans in, his intention clear. Your lips part to fire back at him, to tell him off— and his mouth are now touching yours and tongue sliding past your lips, exploring, claiming. The kiss is intense, a fiery declaration of his desire. His body presses against yours, solid and unyielding, the firmness of his chest, his stomach, his thighs leaving no room for doubt. He's here, with you, and he's staking his claim with a passion that leaves you dizzy and breathless.

The taste of him, a mix of salt and the unmistakable tang of West Blue sake, fills your senses. His tongue dances with yours in a hungry fervor that makes your knees weak and your heart pound just a little bit faster. You can feel the stubble of his beard scraping against your skin, a delicious friction that sends shivers down your spine.

His hand slides from your face, trailing down your neck, your shoulder, until it finds purchase on your hip. He pulls you closer, the hardness of his cock pressing against your body, evidence to his burning desire.

Shanks breaks the kiss, his breathing heavy as his face presses against yours. "I can't let another man have this," he murmurs, his husked with strain. "I refuse.”

The words hang in the air between you, a bold assertion that makes your heart speed up in your chest almost painfully. You're acutely aware of the intimacy of the moment, the way your bodies fit together, the heat that pools in your core at his nearness. It’s like you had never gone your separate ways.

"You're the only one I've ever wanted," he continues, his hand sliding up to splay across your lower back, holding you flush against his body. "The only one I've ever truly wanted."

It’s not fair that all he has to do to make you wilt is say these things to you. You bite down on your lip to try and stop the heat burning in your eyes.

"I need you to understand," Shanks says, his voice a mere whisper against your lips. "The only one allowed to get you pregnant... is me."

His declaration sends a shudder through you, an aching need. You can feel the truth of his words in the urgency of his touch, the intensity of his gaze. This isn't just about desire; it's a promise, a vow that transcends the physical. He means those words.

With one last blazing inferno within his eyes, Shanks bends down captures your mouth once more, his kiss fervent and demanding. His hand roams over your back, exploring, caressing, stirring a hunger within you that matches his own. You're lost in the moment, swept away by the passion that has ignited between you, a fire that refuses to be extinguished.

The spa room fades into insignificance, your agonized thoughts disappear, as you surrender to the man who has captured not just your body, but your heart. And in this moment, with Shanks' lips on yours and his words echoing in your mind, you realize that the future you've been seeking might just be standing right in front of you, ready to claim what's his. What has always been his.

The heat of Shanks' body radiates against you as he deepens the kiss, his hand cupping your face once more, thumb gently stroking your cheeks. His mouth moves with a desperation that mirrors your own, a hunger that demands satisfaction. You're caught in the whirlwind of his desire, each stroke of his tongue, each nip of his teeth, stoking the fire within you.

With a gentle yet insistent pressure, Shanks has you stumbling backwards, his lips never leaving yours. The warm water of the spa laps at your legs as you move, a gentle caress that contrasts with the intensity of his embrace. You feel the cool tile of the pool's edge against your calves, your thighs, as he eases you down to perch on the edge.

He breaks the kiss, his breathing heavy as he gazes into your eyes. "Trust me," he implores, his eyes burning into your own with that intensity that had swept you up in his stomach all those years ago.

You nod, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as you sit on the edge of the pool, the water swirling around your hips. Shanks kneels before you, his broad shoulders forcing your legs apart. The vulnerability of your position sends quiver coursing up your spine and a small whimper slips from your lips. Your flesh throbs.

His hand slides up your thigh, thumb caressing the sensitive skin of your inner legs. You can't help but squirm under his touch, your body instinctively seeking more of the pleasure he offers. You’ve always folded all too easily to him. Shanks' eyes never leave yours as he leans in, his breath hot against your exposed flesh.

The first touch of his tongue against your cunt is electric, a jolt of pleasure that makes you gasp. He starts with slow, languid strokes, exploring your folds with a deliberate thoroughness that leaves you trembling. It’s been too long. You can feel the roughness of his stubble against your inner thighs, an exquisite contrast to the softness of his tongue.

He finds your clit with unnerving accuracy, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves before sucking. The sensation is intense, a sharp spike of pleasure that makes your toes curl. A moan departs your lips , your hands reaching down to tangle in his red hair, holding him against you as he works his magic.

Shanks groans in response, feeling the way your nails rake across his scalp and your hand shoving his face harder into your aching flesh. So his fingers grip your hip tighter, holding your squirms in place as he delves deeper, his tongue lashing at your entrance before slipping in. The sensation of him inside you, his relentless assault on your senses, is overwhelming.

Your thighs begin to fight against his shoulders pinning them apart, your knees pinching in and hips bucking. Oh gods. You can feel the tension building within you, violently coiling tighter and tighter. Shanks’ senses it too and doubles his efforts, his tongue flicking and mouth sucking with such intense ecstasy that a scream catches in your throat.

Then it happens.

With a strangled cry that echoes off the tiled walls. You shatter, the pleasure washing over you in waves as you surrender to the orgasm that crashes through your body with quivering shakes. Shakes that make your legs tremble violently. Shanks continues to lap at you, drawing out every last shudder of pleasure until you're left boneless and panting, your heart racing in your chest and fingers fingers twitching loosely in his hair.

As the aftershocks subside and your chest heaves, Shanks pulls back, his lips glistening with the evidence of your desire. With a lazy flick of his tongue across his lips, he rises to hover over you, his gaze locked on yours with a fierce possessiveness that leaves no room for doubt. He will be the father of your child.

You watch through dazed eyes as Shanks wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, a smug, satisfied grin playing on his lips. His hazel eyes are dark with lust as he positions himself at your entrance, the thick head of his cock nudging against your slick folds. You tremble and lift your hips against his as tanned skin presses against yours ever so deliciously. He doesn't make you wait, driving into you with a single, powerful thrust that makes you cry out with pleasure.

Shanks' cock stretches you in ways that leave you breathless. His hips snap forward with a force that sends shockwaves through your body, each thrust a deliberate, calculated move designed to drive you to the edge of madness. The heat of his body against yours is overwhelming, his skin slick with sweat and water as he fucks you with a relentless intensity.

"Fuck," he groans, his face dropping to press against your neck. "You feel so damn good."

You can only moan in response, your mind too fogged with pleasure to form coherent words. His hand finds your clit, rubbing it with rough, expert strokes that know the precise way to send jolts of electricity through your body. No one knows your body better than him. The dual sensation of his cock pounding into you and his fingers working your clit is almost too much to bear.

“Gods,” you whimper, your legs sliding around his waist to pull him closer. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, nails raking across his skin as you cling to him, trying to maintain control over yourself amidst the whirlwind of sensation. But it is impossible. Each thrust pushes you closer to the brink, the pressure building to an unbearable state.

Shanks scrapes his teeth along your neck and up your jaw until his eyes lock onto yours. "Come for me," he demands, his voice rough and commanding. "I need to feel you squeeze my cock."

The raw need in his voice makes your spine arch and you can feel yourself teetering on the edge of release. He thrusts harder, deeper, each movement pushing through your walls with mind numbing ecstasy. You dive head first over the cliff.

Your orgasm crashes over you in surges of electricity, your body convulsing around Shanks' cock as you cry out in ecstasy. Your cunt clenches around him, squeezing him tight as wave after wave of pleasure ripples through you and your nails draw fresh lines of red along his back.

"That's it," Shanks groans, his pace never faltering as he fucks you through your orgasm. "Fuck, you feel so good.”

Your body is on fire, every nerve ending alight with sensation as he continues to thrust into you. The intensity of it all is almost too much to bear, but you can't get enough. Each movement sends another jolt of pleasure through your already oversensitive body.

Shanks doesn't relent. Each thrust remans calculated, powerful, determined to push you closer to that edge again. Squirming beneath him, whines and pitiful whimpers continue to slip from your lips so deliciously that Shanks’ lips are soon smothering yours to drink in the sounds. You jerk against him once more when his tongue darts out to wind against yours.

“Shanks,” you breathlessly whine against his ravaging mouth, your eyelashes fluttering as you pant. Your faces are so close you can barely breathe yet your mind is intoxicated.

"I want to fill you up," Shanks groans, his voice rough and just breathless as you. "I want to see you swollen with my child."

The raw, primal desire in his words makes your walls clench around his cock. You keen at the idea of carrying his child, it stirs something deep within you. That is all you ever wanted. Your body responds instinctively, your hips bucking against his, meeting each of his thrusts with equal intensity. The pleasure builds rapidly, spurred by his demands. Your eyes flutter open and Shanks' gaze locks onto yours, the intensity in his hazel eyes locking with yours.

"Come for me," he demands, his haki filling the spa until you are drowning in the command. "I want to feel you squeeze me again."

You crumble beneath him, hot tears lingering at your eyelashes. Throwing your head back, you begin to twitch violently, your body convulsing around Shanks' cock as you cry out in ecstasy. Your cunt clenches around him, squeezing him tight as wave after wave of intoxicating pleasure ripples through you.

Shanks groans, his pace never faltering as he fucks you through your third orgasm. "That's it," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "Feel that? That's what I want. I want to fill you up."

Your body is now a searing inferno, every nerve ending alight with sensation as he continues to thrust into you. The intensity of it all is almost too much to bear, but you can't get enough. Each movement sends another jolt of pleasure through your already oversensitive body.

"You're mine," Shanks growls, “and I'm going to make sure everyone knows it."

His words send another shiver down your spine as he drives into you with relentless force. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as you cling to him, trying to garner some sort of control over yourself amidst the whirlwind of sensation.

But the thought of carrying Shanks' child stirs something deep within you—an intense longing that leaves no room for doubt. This is what you've always wanted: To be claimed by the man who holds not just your body but your heart. That is what has been missing in every other man.

Shanks' thrusts become erratic, a sure sign that he's close. You can feel his cock throbbing against your clenching walls, each movement sending ripples of pleasure through your oversensitive body. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders to the point of drawing blood, holding on tight as he drives into you with unrelenting force.

"Fuck," he groans, his voice rough and breathless. "I'm gonna come."

The raw need in his words tears into your heart. Your body responds instinctively, your legs squeezing as tightly as you can. With a final, powerful thrust, Shanks buries himself to the hilt inside you. His cock pulses and you can feel the hot rush of his seed flooding your cunt. The sensation is overwhelming, a wave of heat that makes your whole body tremble and shake.

Shanks keeps his hips pressed firmly against yours, ensuring that none of his seed escapes your body. His breath is hot against your ear as he groans in pleasure, the sound so deliciously sweet.

"That's it," he murmurs, his voice rough with satisfaction. "Take it all."

You can feel every pulse of his release, each spurt filling you with a heat that leaves you trembling. It makes your eyes roll and a weak moan slip from your lips. Your cunt continues to clench around him, milking every last drop from his cock until your muscles go limp.

You struggle to blink the overwhelming haze pleasure clouding your vision. Shanks doesn't move, his body lightly resting against yours and the skin on skin contact lulling you into a dazed state of utter content. His breath is heavy and ragged against your neck, matching your own as you both come down from the high.

Shanks turns his head to capture your lips once more. His tongue parts your lips, delving deep as if he can't get enough of your taste. His hand moves to cradle your face, thumb stroking your jaw with a reverent tenderness that contrasts the raw passion you both had been locked up in only moments before.

Breaking the kiss, he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes. "You have a long month ahead of you," he murmurs in a tone makes your toes curl, “because I’m going to fuck you every day until you're pregnant with my child."

What little oxygen you’ve been sucking in disappears and your heart stops for a few seconds. Every day until you are pregnant with his child. Your cunt clenches around his cock as if in agreement, and heat burns its way up your neck.

Shanks smirks at your reaction, clearly pleased with the effect he has on you. His fingers trail down your body, tracing patterns on your heated skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He shifts slightly, allowing his softened cock to slip from your cunt, but he doesn't move far. His hand finds its way between your legs again, fingers sliding through the slick evidence of his claim.

"Every day," he repeats, his voice a dark promise as his fingers tease your sensitive flesh. "I want to see you swollen and dripping with my seed. Do you understand?“

You tremble beneath him, this time from anticipation and knowing that he means those words.

“Shanks,” you manage to gasp out, the word barely audible but filled with need. “I—”

“Yes?” He enunciates, eyes darkening while his fingers wander to your thigh, fingers stroking the sensitive flesh.

“Yes,” you breathe out, your fingers twitching against his shoulder and hair. Satisfaction blooms within his eyes.

"Good," he murmurs, leaning in to press another heated kiss against your lips. "Because I'm not stopping until I get what I want."

Your cunt clenches around nothing at his words, already craving the feel of him inside you again. Your mind is a haze of pleasure and anticipation as Shanks continues to touch and tease you, his promise echoing in your ears like a mantra.

Every day. Until you're pregnant with his child.

You can hardly wait for what comes next.

Date Published: 10/1/24

Last Edit: 10/1/24

Shanks Masterlist

Kinktober 2024

#shanks x reader #one piece shanks #shanks x you #red haired shanks #shanks #akagami no shanks #red hair shanks #op shanks #kinktober 2024

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me-amaraja · 2 months ago

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cohldhands · 6 months ago

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okokok what about reader teasing Kiba in public sitting on his lap and lowkey grinding on him?

nonnie you're speaking right to my soul so ofc this turned into something not so short and with mutual crush!kiba in mind | kiba inuzuka x afab!reader | nsfw; minors dni | wc: 4k | public shenanigans, teasing, brat behavior (from reader), lap dance (kinda), brief mentions of konoha 13, mildest of dubcon, hands-free orgasm (m!receiving) | reader + others from konoha go on a camping trip, reader sits in kiba’s lap, it devolves from there

kiba relishes in the feeling of your ass against his pelvis. of course, the first several times he experienced it were innocuous: scooting past him in a crowded market; grappled holds and struggling bodies during training; sharing a bed or sleeping bag on more than one occasion. he did his best to keep his hands at his sides, tense and clenched, to let you move against him in the most innocent of ways. the friction, the plush of your flesh—he couldn't help but find himself throbbing beneath the fabric of his bottoms.

he knows it's a delicate game to play, his attention being fully caught by a friend, but the brunette isn't one to ignore what he—or his body—wants. he knows it would only be a matter of time before the facade crumbled.

you tried not to pay any mind to the strain under his pants, but soon it became blaring, something you couldn't ignore as you'd see and feel exactly what he was trying to hide.

something you had to actively fight instigating.

you did well, for the most part, behaving yourself around him despite it all. you turn kiba on and call his attention with barely any effort, and a part of you savors the visage of his flustered face and darkening eyes, innocent moments of life morphing into moments not so innocent at all.

more often than not, you find yourself imagining the way he’d gasp and groan if you put in the intention to grind against him, how his face and the tips of his ears would blossom with color and how he’d look at you, flustered and glossy-eyed. how his large hands would hold your hips, fistfuls of a fighting attempt to stop himself, to keep you going, to do whatever felt right.

because kiba, too, knows how to send your blood coursing and how to ignite your skin with little effort, and he basks in the confirmation when he catches the sticky-sweet scent of your arousal on the air, or watches as your pupils dilate and push the boundaries of your irises.

you did well, even through training sessions and packed markets, impish temptations and what-ifs—until the yearly autumn camping trip.

every october, you and the others who grew up with kiba hike your way out to a spot young team ten found years before you arrived in konoha: a clearing four miles outside of town, full of soft grass and surrounded by towering trees; a river to the east, maybe two-hundred yards from the main camp; space for a central fire for cooking and gathering. old shrines are carved in rock outcroppings not far, and during the summer, lightning bugs fill the clearing like twinkling stars.

initially, the sleeping pads and tents all surrounded the central fire, nestled together as if you all were on one big mission. however, as time passed, and those in the group started to pair off into couples, the tents spread out, within eyesight but out of ear-shot.

after a couple trips out to the campsite, you and the brunette had a system. you two were of the few single people, and setting up camp with each other, helping with tents threatening to escape in the wind or having extra citronella for the mosquitoes, had its benefits. it also allowed you the opportunity to get to know him in an environment he seemed to thrive in: under the brilliant night sky and embraced by autumn's cool breeze.

the young inuzuka preferred being near you as well, not just when camping but at all times. the only way he could ever explain it to himself is it was right to be near you. but now, with his body desperately craving your warmth, the coyness of restrained indulgence in his chest and words, and the sight of your ass in your leggings, he isn't sure being out in the middle of the woods with you is the best idea.

"looks like it's just me and you this time," you sigh as you place the bundle of firewood and kindling next to the fire kiba’s nursing. when you look around, you watch as shino and choji, both of whom would normally be around 'your' fire as well, set up their section of land with their new partners. they aren't far—no one is, really—but there's almost a whole world between yours and kiba's campsite and the rest of them.

"seems so." his eyes are intent on the dancing flames, brow furrowed in concentration as he leans forward in his chair to stoke the campfire, a cool breeze rolling through. he has a blanket draped haphazardly over his shoulders and gathered in his lap, and he’s wearing a hoodie and loose-fitting joggers, the fabric thin. "which is fine. shino's a traitor, anyway."

"i heard that." the dark-haired aburame interjects, his attention not breaking from feeding tent poles through fabric.

"oh, leave him alone." you grin at kiba as you speak in a hushed voice. your eyes wander over him, taking in the angles and shadows highlighted and cast on him from the flickering fire. you refrain from lingering, and you switch your attention to naruto as he runs across the clearing to shikamaru and temari's tent, grabs something, and runs, followed by shouts and laughter. "let him have his moment."

"since when are you a shino defender?" the brunette grins, taking the moment your attention is diverted to slither his eyes along your body. you’re in a pullover and leggings, such a simple and effective outfit, and his eyes glaze over your silhouette in the warm light. he watches as you shiver and take a mindless step closer to the bright fire, still captured by whatever naruto had decided to get himself into.

“oh, hush. you’ll have it one day, too.” you tease and cross your arms over your chest. you grin as shikamaru chases after naruto, who passes what you can now make out is a strip of condoms to ino, who jumped at the opportunity to aid in the irritation of her teammate. a pang in your own chest stabs at your sternum as it hits you: you’re surrounded by couples. you don’t react to it, though, other than inhaling a deep breath and exhaling the barbed air, quiet and sharp.

“i’m not jealous, if that’s what you’re saying.” kiba says before he joins as a spectator to the commotion. he laughs under his breath, his expression lighting up with amusement as he watches shikamaru grow increasingly frustrated. “besides, i wouldn’t wanna risk naruto stealing my condoms and playing capture the flag with 'em.”

you laugh, a light and genuine sound, and kiba’s eyes fall on you once more as his ears ring at the music of your laughter. “i guess that’s fair.”

your eyes flick around your plot in search of your camping chair, and you pull your brow together and start walking around as you don’t see it.

“what’s up?” he asks, shifting in his seat to follow you as you meander around your tents.

“i think i forgot my camping chair at home…” you answer, rummaging through your pile of bags and miscellaneous supplies.

“wanna sit?” he leans forward and starts to collect the blanket in his hands to stand and take it with him.

“no, no,” you shake your hands at him, motioning him to stop. “i can sit on the ground; i’m not—”

“no, that’s ridiculous. not while there’s a perfectly good seat right here.” he motions down with his hands, intending on referring to his chair. based on your reaction—a perched brow and a smug inclination in your eyes—he’s thankful it’s fallen dark outside as a blush creeps into his cheeks and tingles his ears, realizing how he sounded. he hops up from the chair, eyes wide and hand extended toward the now-empty seat. “i-i mean here. there. you can use mine.”

“kiba… sit down. i’m not gonna make you stand.” there’s a forced softness to your voice to ensure you don’t say the wrong thing.

“i—”

“actually, can we share your blanket? sorry.�� you ask in earnest as a sudden shiver causes you to cut him off. with the sun fully set, and a chill carried on the breeze, you hadn’t realized the temperature dropped as low as it did until the spell of the camp’s spectacle was broken. that, and ino passed the metallic, square tickets back to naruto, who was inevitably caught by shikamaru’s jutsu that only brought on cheating claims from both naruto and ino.

the brunette swallows the thickness in his throat, salivating at the mere thought of you against him. he could tell you were genuinely cold, though, and despite having the blanket around him to keep his half-mast length hidden, he nods. in truth, with you and the fire both beside him, he had been too hot this entire time, even with the thinnest clothes he could find out of what he brought with him.

“yeah, come on.” he motions you over with a movement of his head, and he scoots back and widens his legs to accommodate for you as his arms fall open, blanket in hand. “did you not bring a thicker jacket, either?”

you walk over to him, and the world goes quiet for a moment. with the way he looks up at you, the hill of fabric in his lap from his hardening length, and the heat radiating off of him, your heart skips. warmth grows in your cunt as his face relaxes, only slightly, taking in the image of your silhouette in the camp light yet again.

noise catches up with you as you turn around and lower yourself into his lap, ass settled against his pelvis. he’s burning underneath you, scorching as you settle into your spot. “i did, but it’s in the tent, and you’re right he—jeez, you’re hot.”

“thank you,” he grins into the two syllables as he drapes the blanket over you, adding you behind the shield from the cool wind before his hands make haste into his pockets. “and you’re a brat.”

“you’re ridiculous,” you roll your eyes, blushing more at the feeling of his sturdy body and ever-swelling member. you shiver as you gather the blanket in one hand, closing you both off in a cocoon of fleece. “and you haven’t seen the half of it.”

the second bit is said under your breath, a hint of something you’re not sure how to pinpoint—a challenge, maybe, or a lighthearted threat, perhaps. bratty behavior, you settle on, and you suppress the chuckle bubbling in your throat.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” his voice is husked and falls more quiet then he anticipates as he leans closer to your ear, his eyes locked in on the dancing flames. his hands clench, tightening, nails pressed into palms as a grounding reminder to behave.

“it means,” your heart jumps in your chest as you take hold of the support bar for the armrest, your words threatening to fail you when you need them the most despite the wild smirk donning your lips. you shift against him, weight and warmth giving his cock the stimulation it craved, a slow and seemingly innocent notion that causes him to twitch underneath you. “that using you as a furnace is the least bratty thing i could do right now.”

an sharp inhale, sucked in through his clenched jaw, followed by a forcibly controlled breath out. one moment, his hands are confined to his pockets; the next, they’re clinging to your hips and pulling your backside against him, nails digging into you through your layers, your body flush to his—all disguised by the blanket shrouding your bodies. fistfuls of a fighting attempt. he throbs again, blood rushing to his cock.

heat prickles at his skin, arousal mixed with a tinge of embarrassment, and you grin in satisfaction at the hitch in his breathing, your eyes taking in the remainder of the camp.

“or can you not handle it?” you murmur, a lilt in your voice as you glance over your shoulder and offer another slow.

“i-i—” his words falter as you grind against him, his eyes darting around the clearing.

“kiba? speechless and worried about others? i’m surprised.” you don’t hide your shit-eating grin, an expression that grows as he clears his throat and looks away from you, grip still firmly planted on your sides.

filthy words claw at his throat. for once, kiba isn’t sure what to do. he’s caught, suspended in time. you’re here, right on top of him, and the only solution he can conjure up to his current situation is to drag you into his tent. having you off of him, away from him, isn’t an option, but there’s so many people around—

you hear yours and kiba’s names called out, naruto’s voice reaching you from across the clearing has he half-jogs to your encampment.

“h-hey, naruto.” kiba answers after another quiet clearing of his throat.

“hey!” you wiggle in your seat as the blonde approaches, straightening up with a smile of greeting. “what’s up?”

the brunette coughs, shifting in his spot, his pelvis leaning into you.

“me and a few of the others were thinking of exploring the old shrines around here, tomorrow after breakfast. wanna join? oh, are you cold? i’ll add another log to the fire.”

kiba’s body tenses, strings pulled taut as naruto buzzes around like a bee, oblivious to the sinful reality in front of him. his grip on you tightens, as if it was possible, a grounding and fighting attempt to keep from bucking into you.

“that sounds fun,” you answer, glancing back at the brunette again, trying not to focus on the throbbing cock pressed to your asscheeks before returning your attention to the young uzumaki. “and yeah, i was, but kiba’s good for keepin’ warm. i wasn’t expecting it to get as cold as it did.”

“yeah, man, kiba’s good for that, for sure! you have a blanket and everythin’ for tonight, right? i can give you an extra; hinata always grabs the extra stuff that i forget.” naruto laughs lightly and rubs the back of his head.

you feel kiba’s chest vibrate against your back, a low rumble of something you’d swear is a growl if you heard anything. as if it’s possible, you’re sure his body temperature increases.

“yeah, i’ll be good going to bed tonight. thanks.” you offer another smile.

“damn, kiba, you look like you’re gonna explode.” the blonde laughs. “you all right?”

“fine, naruto.” kiba attempts something less than a scowl, but neither you nor naruto are convinced. “i think i trained too hard yesterday; just sore, is all.”

“well then you’re no match for me! can’t train too hard to run konoha.”

“uzumaki, get out of my face with that bullshit.” kiba smirks, the best he can provide given the level of frustration brewing in his chest and the pressure in his abdomen. he needs naruto to leave, for you to grind more against him, to indulge him in one of the many fantasies he had about you. “i’ll be hokage thanks to how hard i train.”

naruto opens his mouth to retort, but hinata’s voice cuts him off as she appears from behind him. “can you both save the hokage fight for later?”

“right?” you add, eyes falling on hinata.

“but he—” naruto starts.

“oh, don’t even—” kiba interjects.

“it’s been a long day,” the hyuga holds her hand up, silencing both of them, before taking hold of the blonde’s arm and glancing up at him. “and we have another long day planned for tomorrow. i’m ready for bed, and you’re coming with.”

both of the men glare at each other before succumbing to hinata’s wishes.

“fine.” kiba sighs.

“fine…” naruto pouts.

“see you in the morning. good night,” hinata adds with a smile to you.

“good night.” you return, and you watch as they turn their backs to you, hinata navigating a rambling naruto back to their tent. you pan over to shino and his partner, the closest to you and kiba, who are now in their tent, entrance still unzipped as they set up their sleeping arrangements. your eyes then flick to neji and tenten, the second closest campers, both of whom are wide awake: tenten intent on oiling her weapons by the light of the fire, and neji laid next to her on his side, reading a book.

some had already disappeared into their tents, lights and campfires out, and others stand around the dwindling central fire, watching until its cool enough to admonish their attention from it.

the moment you’re confident there are no eyes on you, and before kiba can get a word in edge-wise, you circle your hips against him, faster—as if your pace you’re could be remotely considered ‘fast’—and deliberate, your hand leaving the chair and bracing on his upper thigh.

the sound that comes from the brunette is something caught between a pleasured groan and a sigh, shock and pleasure and suppression all wrapped into one.

you need to hear him more. moisture collects in your underwear, adrenaline coursing through your hot veins at the risk of being caught, at the teasing, the knowing exactly what you’re doing to him. you’ve long forgotten the cold, or the dying fire, or the fact you haven’t fully set up your sleeping pad. right now, you’re concerned with taking this as far as you both will allow it.

before he can convince himself of anything otherwise, kiba’s large hands begin to rock you with ease, back and forth against his length, using your clothes and hips as leverage, still, as he starts to lose himself in the moment. he, too, no longer cares about much else other than the sensation of you on him, grinding against his clothed, fat, swollen cock.

“still have nothing to say?” you prod, your voice increasingly quiet against the sounds of the forest, crackling fire, and hushed, distant laughter.

“you’re pushing it.” he huffs against your shoulder, leaning forward, needing a different angle to have you on him in just the right place. a warning, maybe, or a threat, perhaps. either way, his mind is slipping. the more he focuses on your sweet scent, or the ebb and flow of your movements, the more the dizzying and intoxicating premise of pure hedonism lured him in, beckoning him to follow his instincts rather than behave.

his voice makes you shiver, cunt throbbing with heavy and demanding pulses, urging you to give in, to throw caution to the wind for the sake of indulgence.

you stiffen your body, prohibiting his maneuvering of you as shino comes out of the tent, looks for something outside before grabbing a bag and taking it back inside. three… two… one…

kiba opens his mouth to speak, to quip back at you in your moment of stillness, but once aburame disappears again, you change the position of your legs and bounce against him, shallow and quick movements that choke out any of the words he could have mustered.

instead, he pants, delicious music that rings in your ears. his eyes flicking to the crevice of space between your chests to watch your backside on him. the molten liquid in his veins surges, his heart a savage thing in his chest as he scans the crowd—which isn’t much of a crowd at all.

shikamaru puffs on a cigarette as the main fire dies, his eyes on the white and grey swirls of smoke leaving the bonfire and his mind likely eons away; neji readies the tent for tenten, who is packing away her freshly-cleaned weaponry.

“i-if you keep—fuck,” the words attempt to crawl from his throat as a familiar pressure builds in his abdomen. his cock is a twitching mess under you, clear slick soaking his head and coating the inside of his joggers. more mild embarrassment tingles his cheeks and ears, his pulse heavy in his palms, his ears, his length.

“if i keep what?” you purr, your torso angling forward as you replace your movements with slow, languid rocks. still subliminal, as you watch shikamaru put out his cigarette and bow inside the flap of his tent. still intentional, as you focus your hips on his fully erect, teased cock. the thrumming in your sopping core has become background noise, the level of his pleasure being your driving force, and you’re too committed to stop, curiosity and genuine desire fueling you. a small part of you is relieved, finally being released from the weight of keeping kiba’s effect on you a secret.

his forehead rests on your shoulder and heaves out another breathy moan, quieted against your back, his skin fiery and sweat dewing his hairline. he’s too far in to stop you, nor does he want to. in fact, this game you both are playing only solidifies his craving for you, sensing the authenticity beneath the raw human desire.

“if you keep moving like that, i’m gonna cum.” the strangled confession reaches your ears and reverberates in your mind, the desperation in his tone sending you reeling.

your heart rampages beneath your sternum, your pulse pounding in your fingertips at his husked, breathy voice. you switch your pace, back to the shorter, bouncing movements, and his cock tenses underneath you, hands clinging to you in a losing attempt.

your gaze is pulled by movement at neji and tenten’s site. tenten offers a small wave goodnight after she smothers the remnants of her campfire. you freeze, return the notion. kiba’s hands shake as they anchor you against him. she pulls the tent door closed, and the wood of your bonfire crackles as it splinters and crumbles under its own weight.

you continue grinding, relaxed and heavy movements, pressing yourself into him as if you could close any more distance. a small breath escapes you, weighty and tinged with pleasure of your own. you’re enjoying this, far more than you thought you would, and you want him to know.

“l-like that, shit.” his nails threaten to puncture through your clothes as he jerks you against him, guiding you with the pace and fervency he craved. he no longer senses anyone outside—though the threat of someone appearing is still high—and he’s desperate to truly feel you grind on him, his mind clouded and one-tracked.

you comply, biting back a mischievous grin as he uses you in tandem with your own rhythm, the blanket falling from your hand as it finds purchase on his other thigh. you turn your head as he lifts his from your shoulder, and your eyes fall half-hooded as he nuzzles himself in the curve of your neck, his mouth hot as he huffs against your skin.

“fuck—” tension wracks his body, his breath hitched in his chest and shaking hands holding you painfully still, before his aching, slick-covered cock throbs violently beneath your plush flesh, a spot of warmth blossoming in his joggers. he moans in your ear, a depraved and gravelly thing, and the sound sends goosebumps along your now-hot skin. his hips buck with each spurt, and his thick cum seeps through his pants, wetting your leggings.

“mmm,” you hum, satisfied with your endeavors. you move against him as much as his grip allows until he relaxes beneath you. the pressure in your cunt is blaring, an urgent call to attention from your body.

“happy?” he asks with a raspy, quiet voice once his breath finds him, and his grip lightens on your hips.

“i am. i’m warm now.” you chirp, turning in your spot to flash playful smile before attempting to peel yourself off of him and stand. “thanks for sharing your blanket with me. i think it’s time for—”

quick hands secure you back in his lap, one on your opposite hip and the other taking hold of your jaw. he turns your face to meet his gaze, head on, his eyes dark. when he speaks, his voice silken and carnal. “oh, you think i’m fucking done with you? i'm just getting started.”

#kiba inuzuka x reader #kiba x reader #inuzuka kiba x reader #kiba inuzuka #x reader fic #my writing #rat brain tings #anon ask #thank you anon for this idea 🙏#this is the shit i live for #divider by @saradikagraphics

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aghostiewitdahoodie · 9 months ago

Text

⟣ Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F! Reader

⟣ Warnings: None

⟣ This is my work, my writing. Do not steal or repost elsewhere.

Ghost is not one to manifest endearment- an imperishable wall he has built throughout the years of labour and untold agonies. An astonishing discovery for others; you are the complete opposite of the man they had known as a bearer of a cold heart.

A facade they are acquainted with, as behind closed doors, when the exhaustion is stripped away and the notorious mask is off, is Simon, your Simon.

Still, you have to thread carefully; there were times, and certainly there will be times when it is difficult. The gnawing hollowness you tolerate when he is deployed has remained on the far end of your tongue until today.

Simon expected the tender engulfment of your embrace when he arrived; however, he was greeted with the bedroom door slammed shut. His duffel bag is to be released from the unforgiving grip of his gnarled hand as he unveils the oranges he bought from the market before heading to your shared home. The favourite of yours and the resentment of his.

There you lie in the comfort of your bed, sulking with a heavy heart, unknowing of your lover’s presence in the room. A familiar scent is detected in the air, which causes you to face your surroundings. “How many more oranges can you peel, Simon?” You questioned, aware of his hatred of citrus. Placing a peeled fruit on a bowl, his sunburned irises gaze at you. “How many would it take for you to forgive me?”

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2cutie · 1 year ago

Text

Arising Promises

Shang Tsung(MK1) x old friend!Reader (afab, no pronouns)

summary: 18 + content! Shang must revisit the wretched town where he grew up, living his life as a beggar. He is in search for the rare herb for an elixir. You, a past acquittance who knew him when he was a beggar, ends up - literally - running into him and past tensions ensue as hidden emotions arise upon seeing each other again.

a/n: just your casual aro-ace writing about media men again, nothing newww

Outworld’s hinderlands were a place he never bound himself to be, and even now on behalf of traveling back to seek ingredients for a elixir, Shang Tsung’s skin prickled with unbridled discomfort. The scents, the people, the memories were beneath him, and he weighed the option to destroy it all.

Despite its unruly memories against him, it was unfortunate to be the only home of a rare herb.

He paid no mind to the people around him, too miniscule and pale in comparison to his stature now. His held his chin high and dared not look at the fools of the town. A delight rang in his heart that the place was still suffering while he had succeeded.

You had been in the midst of the bustling crowd, down one of the corridors in a street market. As the town was small and communitive, you had befriended the majority of the sellers and those around. You found yourself in a better moods as you greeted some kids that played around you, moving your bag of fruit to avoid their antics. You blindly followed the flow of the crowd, stopping every so often to add more to your groceries.

You shimmied through little pockets of space to get by, feet gliding quickly as your eyes worked for the next openings to get out. You were distracted by a booth selling bread that you didn’t realize the path was suddenly obscured.

You collided with a body, almost stumbling back as you caught your footing. Immediate guilt filled your chest. “I am so sorry! I wasn’t paying any mind to where I was walking.” You gushed out quickly, your eyes shooting up to the man’s back as he hadn’t turned around yet. “Are you alright?”

Shang Tsung’s patience was running dangerously thin, and absolving the fact that one of these filthy townsfolk ran into him made his blood boil. He barely fought the urge to grab you by the throat and take your soul then and there, but he decided it would be a waste of his magic. He sighed silently before pulling on an extravagant facade. “Oh, not at all. Please, it was my mistake. I was distracted. Allow me to help.”

You hated to admit you blushed as his silky voice enveloped your ears. You cleared your throat, shifting the bag as your eyes strayed to the ground nervously. Your shyness was a delightful surprise, and he smirked at it. “I - I’m alright, actually. Thank you. It was my fault. I think I get too distracted here with every-”

The sorcerer raised an eyebrow at your sudden pause, willing you to go on.

Your pause came as you finally met his eyes, scanning over his face and features. Your eyes narrowed. “I know you. I think.”

Had you? That was a curious thing to him. “Oh? Could it be we share past acquaintance?” He glanced to your bag of fruit, elegantly reaching for a grape that poked from the brim and bringing to his mouth.

“That just confirmed that it is indeed you,” you said amidst a sigh, rolling your eyes. Your whole demeanor shifted to casual, if not a bit annoyed. “You haven’t matured since the last time I’ve patched your wounds, have you?” You scanned him, noting the way he dressed. “At least you’re not covered in dirt anymore.”

Shang almost spit out his food. In surprise, or disgust, he wasn’t sure. “Now that is an… unusual greeting for someone you haven’t seen in years.”

He eyed you over with a new perspective. You had breeched his facade easily; that alone prickled his hair. But to say you knew him? He steadied your face carefully, and he latched onto an old memory that surfaced after trying to bury it down.

His eyebrows went up in realization, his smile actually growing. Ah, you. Yes, he remembers you. And to say he hadn’t matured like he taught he had, that he was still the same as the days on the street, it was quite a humbling thought. “To think the only interesting person is still here, in this waste of a town.”

You raised an eyebrow as you scrutinized him, absorbing his demeanor all around. Despite his words, you couldn’t resist the smile that played on your lips as you circled him playfully, trying to get the best look at him. Even after all the headaches he gave you in the past, you were delighted to see him. “You seem to have come a long way, I’m glad. Are you still a nuisance to anyone, or was I the lucky one who gets to hold that honor?”

Shang Tsung smirked at your playful scrutiny, the way you danced was quite entertaining. Maybe you knew him a bit too well. “You were not the only one, I’m sure you know. I spent many years making a nuisance of myself selling my ‘magic’. And I was quite good at it.”

“Unfortunately.”

He hummed and took another piece of fruit, chewing it as he continued. “I suppose you’ll be disappointed to discover that I am no longer a beggar. Perhaps even a little jealous?”

You rolled your eyes again playfully, allowing your smile to stay. “Oh, yes, so jealous of your rise from false potions. I seem to vividly recall you trying to pawn multiple of them on me as well. I would always joke that you weren’t so good of a salesman that you couldn’t even fool me…” Your voice drifted off a bit as you recalled that particular memory. “But I suppose I had the unfair advantage of seeing behind the scenes. Helping you with your bruises after you sold and angered the wrong crowd.”

He truly did not want to reminisce the shadow of himself. “You remember it so vividly, and yet I still managed to swindle you every time.” He moved close to you, putting a finger beneath your chin. He lifted it slightly to look directly in in your eyes. Now it was his turn to get a good look at you.

You hummed, eyes flicking quickly to his lips before meeting his eyes. You mapped the details in his face that you haven’t seen for so long, the curve of his cheeks, the lines on his smile. He changed so much, yet so little. “I suppose you did. But I was a fool then. Always had to let in the stray mutts.”

He hummed shortly. To be compared with such a thing. You still held on to that strong nerve. He chuckled. The air grew thick with the close proximity. “There’s no denying that you weren’t the most savvy back then.”

Shang kept the intense eye contact, his hand slowly trailing down your neck, noting the lack of reaction. You were a tease through and through - or perhaps you were still too used to his antics. He enjoyed it tremendously.

“I’m sure I shouldn’t boost your ego but I must admit, I have missed-” You quickly stopped, considering your words. “My home is too different from all the time I spent with you leeching off me. It’s weird and quiet.” Your eyes followed where his hand traveled. It confirmed that he was real, again in front of you after so much time.

He continued to traverse his hand down. There was something about you that made him consider emotions he hadn’t felt in a very long time; something a bit dangerous about you that you knew the part of him he tries to bury. He wanted to see how much you’d allow before pushing him away. Perhaps he wanted you to.

“I always thought you enjoyed my leeching,” he began in a honeyed voice. “And it was never about the food or that money that had you always making excuses for me.”

His hand cupped one of your breasts over your clothing. He watched closely as his touch turned from teasing to outright groping. He wanted to scare you.

But he failed. You quickly grabbed his wrist away, eyes scanning the crowd in case anyone’s wondering gaze caught it. When they didn’t, you sent him a glare. “Yep,” you tutted. “You have not changed. At all.” You grumbled but couldn’t help a huff of a laugh. You met his eyes again, seeing the glint of humour in them, and dared him to continue. You looked to his hand that you still kept trapped, noticing the residue of fruit juice sticking against his skin.

You locked eyes with him once more before bringing his fingers to your lips, licking the line of juice off, tongue dancing around the skin.

Something dark crept up Shang as he looked over you. His voice lowered to a whisper. “How do you know if I’ve changed if you haven’t seen me for years? I might have fallen in love and turned into a complete gentleman…” The sorcerer leaned close to your ears, lips almost touching your earlobe, “but, if I was a gentleman, I wouldn’t have felt you up in public.” He chuckled.

“You should know by now, I was never one for decencies,” you whispered back. “But if you’re suddenly feel like having a change of heart… I don’t mind you wanting to be one and taking this privately.” You pulled away to dare him, your eyes darkened by longing and lust.

You watched as his brown eyes darkened to match yours as he considered your offer. He wanted to take you then and there in the street. Knowing that anyone seeing could make it even better. “There’s nothing I want more than that. But why don’t we take things back to my quarters? It’s just my temporary one while I stay in this wretched place. After all, I’m sure you’re eager to see what I have inside.”

“You leave me curious,” you replied with a devious grin. “But you’re right. I’m quite intrigued to see what you’ve done for yourself.”

Shang’s eyes gleamed at your reply and his own mischievous thoughts as he pulled back to lightly inspect you for a moment. Your clothes were nothing fancy, fitting that of a working class upbringing. But beneath it all, he could glimpse at the figure that lay beneath. “Follow me,” he practically purred. “I’ll show you exactly how far I’ve come.”

“But of course.”

You followed down the path he led, all the while watching him. His body filled out since he was a beggar, and you actually felt a bit of delight in knowing he ate well. His freckles became more gradient, his neck looked so untouched and tempting to be marked.

/// You were the first to walk into his quarters as he closed the entrance behind you. It was nothing overly luxurious for his journeys, certainly did not match his current status or held a candle to his actual home. Inside, instead, was a surprisingly cozy place. The walls were lined with his bookshelves, and the furniture was rather plush and inviting.

“It’s quite cozy, actually.” You willed yourself to wonder softly in the room, looking at the choice of brandish decor, smiling. “I remember how you always talked about wanting such extravagant things that you couldn’t afford. You’ve come far as to even have it. I wonder what you’ve been up to,” you tease though there was a sincerity in wanting to know more. You stop in front of one of the bookcases, eyeing the intricate spines.

Shang watched your actions closely. It was a nice thought, that the simple things he surrounded himself with were so far out of reach in your eyes. It filled him with pride.

He stepped alongside you, his fingers gently grazing some strands of your hair. “Yes, I’ve worked hard to get where I am now. How about I tell you the tale over a glass of wine?”

“Wining and dining me?” You wit, tutting your tongue at such a show of class but nodding nonetheless. “Well, you know I’m not classy. I’ll take a glass, or a few. Thank you.”

Shang Tsung laughed as he walked away to pour two glasses. “You know what they say: 'Don’t eat a fruit without seeing its tree, and don’t court a woman without feeding her first’.”

He passed over the wine as you chuckled, taking a sip of his own and sitting. It was a dry wine, tasting of plum and blackberries. He stood close behind you, eyes admiring every inch of your body.

“I’m interested to know where you learned such a lesson. But more so, I’d like to know about your upbringing. How did the Shang Tsung leave his poor, pitiful lifestyle and become this? Perhaps I could learn a thing or two.”

His felt his chest vibrate with satisfaction. He had power over you in terms of stature, and with that he believed came authority. He was proud to be above someone. He walked slowly to his couch and sat. “You wish to hear the story of how I rose from being a beggar child to the greatest sorcerer in the realm? It’s a tale of hard work and determination of what I truly believe to be my one true calling. Come and sit at my side, and I’ll speak of it to you in detail.”

“A sorcerer now?” You were filled with genuine interest as you placed yourself softly on the plush furniture. You looked at him with wide eyes. “I thought I saw something interesting books. That’s quite the turn from your old line of work. Maybe you could try selling potions again, and this time they’d work.”

He wanted to scoff at such an outlandish idea. “Selling potions is far beneath my caliber now. I know so much more about the magical arts, much more than I could have ever dreamed.”

“Speak away. I’m in desperate desire to climb that social ladder myself.”

Shang chuckled as his eyes roved across the tempting curves of your body. Despite his temptations, he enjoyed the conversation being about him. “I would argue that you are already climbing, my dear. And that you would do quite well in the future with your tenacity and natural beauty.” His fingers stroked down your arms.

“I don’t know about all that,” you replied, shy when it came to compliments about yourself. You shifted a bit closer, legs dangling close to his lap as you turned to him. “but don’t get distracted by discussions about me.”

He grinned as he noted every little movement you made. “Well, my whole life I was quite unsatisfied. I hungered for more. I desired to have that power to do anything and everything without trepidation.” He paused to sip from his wine, nearly sputtering when your leg rubbed against his purposely. You tempted him to give up this tale, but he persisted. “I’ve surpassed my own initial desires. There has never been a sorcerer before me who has learned so much that I taught myself. None that knew so much magic could bend and twist the very laws of nature to their liking.”

He took your chin between his fingers, leaning over you to intimidate you with the knowledge of his power. Your lips parted. “And how did that happen? What granted you so much power?” You licked the finger closest to your lips.

Oh, how you tempted him. Just when he thinks he’s in control. Your teasing nature brings out the old parts of him he longed to destroy, yet he didn’t seem to care so much with how it felt with you. You were truly a temptress. “My own studies.” He would feign his innocent of Damashi to even you. “I sought out dark rituals that would unlock powers that only the gods could posses.”

Your eyes flicked back to him at the weight of his words. A cold trinkle ran up your spine. “That could be dangerous. Even for you, Shang. Have you… achieved that kind of power?”

Shang smiled, daringly. “Power isn’t easy to come by, my dear. And power like this comes at a great price. I’ve made deals that cannot be spoken of. I’ve had to kill a fair share of my enemies and allies alike to become this powerful. I’ve done things even I am not so proud of. But in the end, I achieved my power that was so rightfully owed.”

You almost quivered at the level of danger he spoke, the venom that laced his every word. Yet somehow instead of terrifying you, it came as a delight. A dance with death and danger. It caused your core to heat up, knowing that you share a room with someone so powerful; knowing that it was Shang. You legs tightened around his in reflex.

That small gesture only excited him more. He could feel the heat rise in your skin. His hands drifted away to sip at his wine once more. “Yet despite the dangers I was warned about, I knew I was the only one who could handle such power. My powers came so naturally to me. I can cast spells at the simple snap of my fingers.”

You had to swallow thickly and Shang watched as your throat worked it down. “You’ve certainly changed from that poor boy I once knew you as,” you whispered. Your eyes glanced to his lips, the scent of the wine tingling your nose. “Feel welcome to demonstrate some of those powers, if you’d feel inclined. You know I’m not so delicate.”

He leaned in closer and you could feel the smirk as you spoke. “If I do that, I can guarantee you’ll not be wanting to leave me tonight.”

His warmth invaded yours again and your heart thumped in your chest. “You assume that I want to leave,” you whisper. “But I in fact do not intend to.” You tilted your head and lean to his ear, swirling your tongue over his earlobe before pulling it in with a nibble.

Shang quietly gasped at the feeling. Oh, you were too enticing. The heart rose within him despite his fight for composure. “And how, exactly, do you expect this night to end?”

You let the silence stretch after his question and transcended your hands down across his chest, pressing again the layers of his clothing. Your nerves vibrated in anticipation, longing. You wanted to feel him, prove that he was truly that same man from all those years ago and that you could have him. You reluctantly pulled away to lock eyes. “However you’ll have me.”

Logical thoughts evaded the sorcerer as his mind ran blank, heart pumping at an increasing velocity with every word. He knew what he wanted, and like all things he desired, he would take.

He grabbed your arms and clashed his lips against yours in a passionate kiss. Every touch he left on you was electrifying to both you and him. From his shifty fingers rubbing across your skin, to your hands roaming through his hair to push him closer, the other diving under his vest to roam his chest. You enjoyed the forbidden taste of him, the touch you craved so long ago.

In kind, his hands descended to your hips, gripping the plush skin he found there. His kiss was passionate, slow yet deep if not just overbearing. He controlled the kiss and you allowed him.

As his tongue circled around yours, you straddled his thighs and dropped yourself atop his lap. Your hands moved to his throat to dip his head back against the sofa, deepening the lustful kiss. As the heat around you rose, you ground your weight against him almost without even realizing, the hand around his throat firming to a lose hold.

Shang broke the kiss as a low moan left him. His eyes were glassy, coated with lust, and he loosely smirked. “You,” he started, grip tight as he groped the plush of your thigh. “Are certainly not the same naive girl I knew when I left. What more do you hunger for, my dear? What do you crave so insatiably?”

The dark lint of his silky voice stirred something deep within your gut. Your breath was heavy as you absorbed the way he looked under you. “We both have seemed to change in some ways… sorcerer.” You teased the last word, still foreign to your lips to call him such. You leaned over him, hair dropping around the both of you. You licked a hot strip across his parted lips. “I’m quite starved for having any part of you.”

He felt him shudder more so than saw it. “Then I guess it’s my turn to ask my question. How is it that I have the privilege to see this temptress side that you’ve become?” His breath shuddered as you attacked his neck, leaving a trail of light nibbles to his jaw.

You pondered how to answer such a question, grinding down against him as you thought. You elected a moan at how he grew under your hips. The more you moved, the hotter your core burned, distracting and enticing you. But Shang seemed to notice and he grabbed your hips in a burning hold, moving himself against you to hold your attention.

“Someone sought me out,” you admitted between your moans. “He came to me, saying I had some potential to become more powerful. To be a defender, become a great warrior.” You left a wet kiss below at his adam’s apple. “To train to become one of earth’s greatest defenders.”

He growled in response to you movements. He could feel every little thing about you, even the tiniest movements brought his mind to pleasurable insanity as he ground himself with you. “Great defenders… great sorcerers. All of it seems so miniscule in the grand scheme of things. Don’t you agree, my dear? Doesn’t it bleed at your skin to know you could be more, become more than anyone thought you could be?”

“In this moment, it seems like a waste,” you admitted, kissing him shortly at his confused expression. “To stay here seems much better.” You undid the buttons to his vest and shirt, opening the layers to his toned chest. You threw off your top next, discarding it over your head, uncaring to where it landed. “But you were not alone in wanting to raise your name from the filth that we both once were. The man, he gave me belief that I could improve. Something about him seemed… sincere. Promising, dominant.” Your hands groped around his exposed skin, hips dancing quicker to match the uprising in your story. “Liu…” You started, trying to recall. “His name is Liu Kang.”

Shang’s grip tightened on you at the mention of that wretched name. His eyes narrowed as he skimmed you over, trying to exploit you for plan you haven’t admitted to. But he found nothing of ill intent. So the damned monk was a step ahead, or it was a trial luck. It burned disgust in his gut to know he influenced you in some way. The sorcerer wouldn’t allow it.

In fact, it opened more avenues. Liu hadn’t revealed to you about him or his plans of the Dragon Army, it seemed. He smiled wide, his sharp teeth brandishing. You could be a great pawn, someone working on the inside to exploit the monk’s plans. His hunger for you was becoming ravenous.

He practically purred. “Ah yes, Liu Kang. I’ve heard that name before. I’m sure he wouldn’t like to hear that I’ve taken his pupil so soon.” He smirked and gave a quick squeeze of your ass.

“You haven’t taken me just yet, Shang Tsung. So why don’t you?” You gripped his throat again, pulling his chin to meet your strong gaze. “Show me how you’ve grown. Take what is bound to be yours. You’ve no need to be gentle with me.”

His heart thrummed in desire. He would give you quite the show you longed for. He was sure he would offer you anything, if you asked. He pulled you taught against him with a restricting grip to your thighs, your body heat crashing against him. His kiss was more teeth than tongue and his hands slipped below your pants, dominating. The moan you cried strummed his sadistic pleasure.

He lifted you off his lap and flipped you to your back against the soft cushions. He removed his shirts promptly.

You ogled him boldly, stomach churning for desire at the appeal of his toned chest and muscles. You quickly stripped your pants and garments in the same manner. “A layer of clothes, for for a layer of clothes,” you whispered. “A fair trade.”

His eyes were predatory as he watched you from above. He suddenly grabbed your ankles and split them apart, sliding himself between them and caging your body beneath him, growling at the flush contact. “Let us not waste a second longer.” A pliant finger came between the two of you.

Feeling his fingers heavily press against your folds, you shuddered a moan and pulled him closer with your legs. “Shit,” you whispered. “Fuck…”

“Such a filthy mouth for someone so beautiful.” He circled firmly against your clit, his own desire rising the more he watched your expressions. “So wet for me. Tell me, for how long have you craved this?”

Your head hit the plush pillows behind you, chest rising in falls in deep breaths. He dipped his head to bite at your unmarked chest. His primal urge to darken it with bruises overruled his moral thoughts. “Quite some time,” you stuttered out, rolling your hips in time with his fingers. You whined pathetically as he entered a finger inside of you. “I-” you inhaled sharply. “Fuck, um.. A bit after I got to know you. I thought you were an annoying asshole.. and a prick.”

Shang rolled his eyes, pressing his lips into your skin. What flattery. He sunk his teeth into you for retribution.

You jolted under him, and he pressed his hips to yours to hold you down. Your knees dug into his hips as you moaned; another finger was added. “I think seeing the, gods, other side of you was what did it in.. Your - fuck! Your fucking smile that you just showed me. You being attractive didn’t help with anything.”

His tongue ran over your bites before he sucked the sensitive skin, a gift for your words of praise. He went up to your neck, sucked deliciously, before pulling away with a shit-eating smirk. You’ve fed his ego.

“You should have told me much sooner,” he purred, dipping his head to lean close to your lips. His hair tickled your cheeks gently, and you shuddered upon feeling a third finger prying you open. “We could have done this,” he thrust up his hips in time with his fingers, the illusion of fucking you, “so much sooner.” He hissed through his teeth. “So many times.”

You could almost sob at how he made you feel, at how good it felt to be with him again. His hold on your hips tightened to a vice, his fingernails denting into your skin. You thoughts ran rampant as you thought over his words, vivid imagination running wild at the different ways he could have taken you all those years ago. In his traveling wagon, barely hidden around a corner in town… all the way you’d let him take you. There was a sharp pang in your heart knowing that could never happen, that you couldn’t go back and make love to the broken boy he used to be.

But that’s what made this moment so much more alluring. “Please, Shang,” you whispered, opening your eyes to find that his never left yours, drinking in your every emotion. “I don’t want to wait any longer. I want you… Now.”

“So demanding,” he chuckled. “But you asked so nicely…” He nipped at your parted lips as you swallowed down shallow breaths. With one final curl of his fingers, he pulled them out, leaving behind a hollow feeling. But your stomach fluttered as he began undoing his layers, unveiling himself to you.

Your legs tightened around him in expectancy, and he chuckled deviously as he felt it. “Does it please you?” He teased, voice as tempting as milk and honey. “Longing for me so impatiently that you make a mess of my couch..” He tutted as he saw your mess drip off your thighs. “When you haven’t even had it before?”

A puff of air puffed out of your nose, whether from embarrassment or anticipation, you weren’t yet sure. “Shang-”

His eyes flicked to yours, narrowing. Telling you to be silent, do not dare to interrupt him. He shifted himself on the couch, traveling lower as he kept your ankles apart. He slowly lowered himself when he was equal to your bottom half, his black hair tickling against your skin. The amount of how much he was staring at your core was driving you insane, if not a bit shy. You went to put your knees together, but he was faster and shouldered them open again.

“You will be good for me, won’t you? After all you’ve stained my sofa. You should be thankful to me for cleaning your mess.” He dipped his chin as his words hit you of what he was about to do. “You are in my debt now.”

You didn’t have a choice in the matter, regardless. His mouth covered your aching mound and sucked instantly, the lewd noise filling the opening air. His tongue followed quickly after, lapping a long strip to catch the falling mess. Your hips jerked up instinctively, thighs tensing as you cried out. Your hand knotted into his hair.

Shang snaked his arms beneath your thighs and pulled them open, effectively holding you down to grant full and unrestricted access to you. You felt exposed, but with him it felt right. Like you were his. He met your eyes when you sucked your clit, as is following your trail of thought about him owning you.

He shouldn’t look so good like this. You felt you kind of hated him for it. But the feeling didn’t last long for how good he was making you feel. You tugged his hair, nails scratching hard, when you felt his tongue pressure inside of you.

He moaned in response, the vibrations making your insides flutter. Your back arched off the sofa as you moaned lewdly. He kissed against you, chuckled at your response, and it felt as if the laugh filtered throughout your whole body. “Shang, Shang,” you muttered quickly. “You- please stop,” you begged, his hair clenched in tight fists. “I won’t be able to last.”

He hummed in response and you wanted to knee his shitty face for how it made you jump. He pulled you closer to his mouth, your hips elevated in the air, thighs over his shoulders as his tongue moved deeper. His eyes closed, enjoying it more than he was willing to admit. You tasted divine.

Your body began to tremble, feeling as if circuits of electricity were coursing through you. Your thighs closed around his head, holding him tight and he let out a pleasured sigh. You felt a high creeping up on you, your chest constricting, your hips rolling in response to his tongue. You felt the rush-

But he pulled away, panting. His eyes opened again and he was looking down at you, eyes darkened with lust.

You would kill him, you were pretty sure. You certainly wanted to. You wanted to tell him about himself, but you stopped when you saw wet his chin was, slick with your own mess. You saw his tongue lap at the remnants on his lips, the fucked out expression he wore so well that you knew his thoughts weren’t all there. His hair that was falling out of the clip and messily scattered around his face. He looked good, and you hated it. You could kill him later, you figured.

You both spoke nothing as he shifted your legs to keep over his shoulders. You crossed your ankles behind his neck. He lined himself up at your entrance without a word, and the heat of his member rubbing against you caused you to shudder.

He leaned above you, flexing your legs with him as he practically folded to where it was almost a sitting position, and entered himself into you, not too slow, not too fast. It was a perfect speed to match an ever more pleasant stretch to accustom him inside of you. Your mouth gaped in response, eyebrows furrowing in lust. He grunted when he was fully hilted inside of you, soaking in the pleasuring warmth you provided.

Shang’s canines poked out of his mouth as his lips curled, the expanse of his heightened emotions bleeding into his expression. You felt divine. Another fruit to his labor, he considered. But this was much better.

Without warning, he slowly thrusted into you, soft but deep to get you accustomed. You gripped at his biceps that were on either side of you.

“What a work of art you are,” he began, his voice an octave you had never heard before. It was doing something for your core. “Both inside and out. You fit right with me, don’t you? You don’t deserve to be in such a filthy town when you belong in my home. You deserve a lavish lifestyle to compliment you, to speak for your sins. You’d be another trophy for my collection; proof of the years I’ve sacrificed.” His thrusts heightened, as he pulled back fully back out, then into you, his breath shuddering. He felt he was in a continual state of arousal, only you put him through. “But no, you’re so much more than that, aren’t you? You’d be a prized collection. Not for anyone’s eyes but my own. Not for anyone’s use,” he pointed the word with a dominant thrust, “but my own.”

You didn’t have any control of your body anymore as he pulled out every pleasure you’ve ever known. Your body was limp as he took control and you could do little but moan and meet his hips back, chasing after your own ecstasy. It took everything in you to open your eyes and meet his gaze.

“I’ve missed you Shang,” you managed to moan out honestly. You shakily grabbed his chin to hold. “I don’t want this to be a one night thing.”

The words you spoke were fragile, and your heart tightened as you admitted them. You didn’t want to even think about the potential event of him leaving again after this was over, and never seeing him again, at least not for years. You’ve had him where you wanted, years of longing finally made up for in this moment. You didn’t want it to end.

Shang moaned at your admission, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he pounded into you. He held your strong gaze, and your eyes were those that would turn him weak, make him fall to his knees and do anything for you if just to see them again. They were the eyes of someone who had accepted his past life, embraced it for what it is and who he had become. He wouldn’t admit the power you had over him, so he would make you feel it.

“I do not wish for this to be for one night only, either,” he admitted softly. “This is right, don’t you agree? How I make you feel, how you make me lose my virtue?” He chuckled and hissed through his teeth, kissing you quick. He watched you lose control.

“Please,” you whispered so softly. It was more of a plea than anything, and tears threated to brim at your eyes. It was a true sense of longing for underneath how your body burned from the mixture of both of your movements. You kissed him again, so gentle. So loving.

The sorcerer’s breath was heavy. His eyes didn’t close as he kissed you, instead deciding to watch you. To make sure you didn’t fade. Your movements together sparked ecstasy inside of him; it was a perfect dance. The way you kissed him, how you spoke, the pleas from you. It made his heart beat hard in his chest, like it was his life’s quest to have you. That all his beggar days and his late night studies of magic were built to just have this moment. And you spoke of the promise of more.

“I want you tonight,” he spoke, hips rolling deliciously. “I want you every night. I want you forever.”

He was one never to admit his desires. Instead, he sought them out and made them his. And he planned to do the same for you.

“You will have me,” you promised. “Now, and any time. I am yours, Shang Tsung.”

He let out a groan that was pitiful to his own ears, as he slowed his thrusts, wanting to cherish yours words and the feeling. He dipped his head down to your chest, feeling the pleasure in him burn, threatening to escape. You had him wrapped around your finger and you didn’t even know it.

“As long as you are mine as well,” you continued, as if that was ever something to be denied. If only you knew how you made him weak.

Shang didn’t relay another word but moved his head out of your shoulder, locking eyes with you once again in the midst of both of your pleasure. He slowly worked his way back to speed, if not faster and deeper in silent promise. It was electrifying, how you made him feel.

“Say it, Shang,” you moaned, breathy as you felt your release build back again. “I want to hear you say it. Say that you’ll be mine, and that I am yours.”

Shang’s gut churned, burning with lust. He talked above your lips. “I will be yours, as you are mine for all of time. Your wishes, your desires, your dream; they will all be shared and become mine onward. You alone are worth the price you’ve paid to become what you are, now where we are. To be this powerful alongside of me. I will ensure that you will never forget what we’ve worked for, my love.”

Your legs tightened around him as he spoke his promise, your release taking you hard, heightened from how you ever felt before. Your legs shook as if they had energy surging through them, as your stomach clenched and churned, and you constricted around Shang. You moaned your ecstasy in the form of his name.

Shang hissed as he felt you shudder, both inside and around him, his own pleasure heightening from the sensation. As he reached his brink, he spoke in your ear, desperate, promising: “From here and out, we are one, in body in soul. The darkest of nights and the brightest of mornings we shall be by each other in kind, ruling together for the duration of our lives. Until the sun shines no more, until creation has no more purpose.”

He released in his monologue, hips grinding and feeding himself through the pleasure until he was finished. You felt his release spread inside of you, a sort of intense intimacy that you felt on the outside as well. His hot breath pricked against your skin as he came off his high, only releasing his tight grasp when he had his senses back.

You shared a comfortable silence, soaking in the afterglow of the promise of each other. The shared pain you both felt apart from each other, the emotions you both buried, the longing and the unspoken feelings. But now, all was replaced with the promise of tomorrow.

Shang moved your thighs off of his shoulders to let you fully relax. You sighed in thanks and he pulled himself closer, gazing into your eyes.

Your heart could sense his next words before he even spoke them, and already you agreed to them.

“You shall never be with another in this life, nor the next. Not while I still exist. You will need no one but me, as I will provide you with nothing but the best. Your body, heart, your mind, they are all mine, and mine are yours. In this life, for eternity, no one shall ever feel the abundance of your love but me, and no one will know the pleasures of mine but you.”

#mortal kombat fanfiction #mortal kombat x reader #shang tsung #shang tsung x you #shang tsung x reader #beggar shang tsung #shang x reader #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 #mk1 shang tsung #im too aro ace for this #no im not #my writing

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shakingparadigm · 6 months ago

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Not only Till and Ivan, but it seems like Luka parallels with almost every ALNST character in different ways. I mean, I think this applies to everyone in how they parallel each other in some form, but I find it interesting that Luka’s character in particular seems to have adopted/inherited specific traits from nearly every character. I say nearly because Mizi seems to be the only exception, but maybe if I squint a bit harder I’ll find something they can relate with. For now nothing comes to mind lol.

Luka and…

Sua: Similar in demeanor, appearance, and in their mysterious narrative role. Both have a strange ethereal “vibe”, wear empty doll-like expressions, are dressed up like dolls with white frilly clothing adorned with a bow, their owners objectify and present them to the universe to be leered and gawked at, their birthdays are one day apart, and they both covered each other’s songs despite having no known direct relation to each other.

Till: Similar in background, talent, and onstage presence. Both artistic geniuses, overwhelm their opponents on stage, and are physically abused and exploited for their skills by their segyeins.

Ivan: Similar in personality, execution, and reputation. Both are seen as perfect “princes” in their respective audiences, calm and consistent, smart/calculating, psychologically twisted, and put on a mature charismatic facade around others.

Hyuna: Similar in their motivations. Both share the same rooted desire for freedom and control over their own life and gain a sense of catharsis in finding that autonomy/independence on the stage.

Luka’s character seems to have no real sense of identity. So, in a way, it’s as if his entire identity is built off of every other character despite being the most alienated (ba dum tss) of them all. He’s a blank canvas who’s been painted in the other characters’ colors. Actually, everyone was originally a blank canvas. Sua is the stemming point who’s painted everyone in color, then everyone painted Luka in their respective colors. The author has stated that every ALNST character originated from Sua. In contrast, it seems like Luka was originated from everyone else.

This is a fantastic observation, anon! I agree! I find that Luka is a rather omnipresent character, almost to the likes of Sua but not quite. This might not make as much sense, but I feel Hyuna is on this level as well.

(Long post ahead! Sorry, I ended up rambling and maybe going off-topic...)

Something that has always intrigued me is that Hyuna and Luka are set apart from the rest of the cast. Unlike the main 4, who's story is rapidly unfolding in the present, Hyuna and Luka's inciting incident has already passed. What they're doing now is dealing with the aftermath and attempting to lay their demons to rest (for Hyuna, at least). Bits and pieces of these two can be found within the main 4, and several comparisons can be made (and often they are made canonically, whether it be implied in the content or directly stated by Q and V).

Mentally, I've always split the main 6 in half. Hyuna with Mizi and Till, Luka with Sua and Ivan. The reasons are obvious, of course.

Luka, Sua and Ivan make up what is essentially the perfection trifecta. Dressed in pure white (eventually, for Ivan), charismatic personas, camera-ready marketing stars. An important part of how they cope with expectations and lack of control is by separating themselves into the persona they put on for the audience and the person they actually are. They're passive and obedient, playing along with whatever the segyein want them to do, top students at anakt (Luka was number 1 during his time, while Sua and Ivan often alternate between 1st and 2nd place, essentially a tie in a way), and often perform to perfection. However, Sua and Ivan still retain a part of themselves that is theirs and no one else's. It's obvious in the way they allow themselves to indulge in certain things, the way Ivan makes room for personal time and how Sua refuses to disclose more information than absolutely necessary, protective of her privacy. While Luka gives himself to the audience completely, it's safe to assume that he's doing it out of necessity and not exactly by will (is there an identity behind the success? what is he if not a winner?). There are the sides of them that will happily present themselves in front of a camera, and the sides of them that are cynical and scornful of the life they were forced into. For the most part, they act logically. The obedient pet act ensures their safety and although it is excruciating, they've weighed their options and decided that this is the best way to take advantage of their circumstances. Smart, well-behaved and proper pets.

I like to call the trio of Hyuna, Mizi and Till the rebels because that's essentially what they are (at least eventually). As the other half, they're meant to be the opposite of what is considered "perfect". It's established that Luka, Sua and Ivan are careful and calculated when presenting themselves to an audience, putting forward only their best and hiding their true imperfect selves under this mask. Hyuna, Mizi and Till however are largely characterized by their authenticity, their genuine display of self. When they perform, there is no mask. They offer themselves fully on stage and present their genuine emotions, whether or not it's palatable enough for the audience to take. Their actions are less calculated and moreso driven by the heart, for better or for worse. Mizi and Till are openly dejected and upset in their respective second rounds, while a more careful pet like Ivan would attempt to hide their true feelings and put on a brave face (which he does during the beginning of his part in ROUND 6). Hyuna's rescue of Mizi leans less towards logical reasoning and more towards her own emotions, her personal need for self-consolation. There's also the rebellion factor, Hyuna is a literal rebel, Mizi becomes a rebel and Till is described as a rebel. Unlike their counterparts, they are able to act more freely and don't carry the same heavy sense of responsibility that the others do. They are themselves unabashedly, either because they fought tooth and nail for it (Hyuna & Till) or because they were raised in an environment where they never had to (Mizi).

You've already done a great job at pointing out the parallels between Luka, Sua and Ivan. To further add onto your points, it's commonly believed that Luka so easily and uncannily mimicked Sua in ROUND 5 because of the fact that he was already so similar to her. It's also directly stated in Luka's character design logs that Luka and Ivan's characters were incredibly similar, with the only difference being the personality of the mask that they put on (calm and doll-like for Luka, cool and cheerful for Ivan).

Hyuna can be seen within Mizi and Till as well. The fact that Hyuna sees herself in Mizi is the main reason as to why she saves her in the first place. Once full of joy and blind optimism, innocence shattered at the loss of a loved one. Till bears resemblance to Hyuna as well, both physically (their eyeshapes are strikingly similar, and Hyuna's eyecolor, brighter as a child, is quite close to Till's teal during specific moments), personality-wise (rebellious, fighting for freedom) and in terms of singing style (Hyuna was originally described to be "rock-and-roll", both perform with strong, loud and energetic voices).

Luka's similarity with Till is a special instance. I've said this before (and you've already brought it up), but I believe they're both essentially two very different people who were put into very similar circumstances. Till is overflowing with emotion and a desire to protect his individuality, bearing "quirks equivalent to 10 people" as Ivan says. Luka, on the other hand, seems to have a rather fragile identity. We don't know anything about him besides the fact that he was created to be a winner, trained and conditioned under extremely brutal means. The only times we see him exhibit any semblance of free will and desire is when he's vying for Hyuna's attention or exerting control over others. While Till and Luka are different fundamentally, they're both put through abusive training and experimentation in order to fulfill the goals of their power-hungry guardians. Unrivaled talent at a steep price.

It's interesting how even Hyuna, who was created to be Luka's exact opposite, is able to parallel him in a certain way. Thank you for pointing that out! As their lives are constantly dictated by their owners, the stage is their only escape, a playground of sorts where they finally have the opportunity to control their circumstances. The difference is that while Heperu is overly-invested in and nearly obssessed with Luka's victory, Phan does not care for Hyuna at all. In fact, Phan does not particularly care for ALNST in general, only participating as a sponsor. They care so little that they couldn't even be bothered to watch the show. As Phan lacks any investment in ALNST, Hyuna's life is much less restrictive and ruthless than Luka's. Hyuna loves performing because it allows her to feel free, a form of self-expression that liberates her from the monotony of segyein routine and allows her to feel like her life is hers. While Luka is essentially the same, his means are much more intense. His life is managed right down to the minute, basically a puppet on a string. Since every other aspect of his autonomy has been taken from his control, the stage is genuinely all he has. Unlike Hyuna, who has a strong personality and set of beliefs, Luka does not have much to express. Instead, he finds his identity and sense of control in dominating others, exerting force and pressure onto his opponents. This can be seen in ROUND 5, where his performance is the least emotionally charged and instead calculated to intimidate and provoke his opponent, Mizi. Hyuna's love of the stage stems from the fact that she is brimming with emotion and energy that she wants to express, parts of her that feel restricted by the way her life is led by aliens. Luka performs to dominate, to assert himself as the most powerful force in the arena, which is a privilege he will never get to have outside of it. Both Hyuna and Luka find their strongest sense of self on stage, however the ways in which they go about it are very different in nature.

I'd like to genuinely thank you for this ask, you make a lot of good points and I find the idea of Luka being a canvas "painted" by everyone else very interesting! While I agree with that idea in terms of his character conception, within the story I find him less affected by others and more as if he's the one affecting them. Just as Sua changed the trajectory of Mizi's life, Hyuna would not be where she is today if not for Luka.

#sorry for the long answer!!!#alnst #alien stage #alien stage luka #alnst luka #alnst hyuna #alien stage hyuna #asks #para.musing

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