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neferaskingdom · 4 months ago

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♡ Max "If It Weren't For The Baby" Verstappen | MV1

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: Max and George show no signs of stopping anytime soon and poor y/n is stuck between a rock and a hard place. but soon things escalate when Max accidentally opens his big mouth.

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y/n_russell posted:

y/n_russell: Habibi come to Abu Dhabi✨

Comments:

user: SHE’S BACK, EVERYBODY STAY CALM!!! 🔥🔥🔥 user: MOTHER RETURNED TO THE GRID AND IT SHOWS. user: Abu Dhabi isn’t ready for her!! 😍 user: Not to be messy, but is that a bump or just the angle? 👀

user: Delete this before you embarrass yourself further. 🙄 user: You do realize that’s body-shaming, right? Yikes. user: Maybe it’s just the dress, maybe it’s none of our business. Either way—don’t. user: Imagine logging onto the internet just to get ratio’d in the comments. Couldn’t be me.

georgerussell63: Wow. 2 whole photo in front of Lewis’s garage? Feeling betrayed right now.

y/n_russell: omg george, do you want me to write "george is my favorite" on my forehead or something? relax. georgerussell63: I’m just saying, where’s the support? y/n_russell: maybe if your garage didn’t feel like the waiting room at a dentist’s office, I’d consider it. georgerussell63: That’s because we’re professional. y/n_russell: nah, it’s because you have the personality of unseasoned chicken. user: 💀💀💀 SHE CAME FOR HIS LIFE.

user: MAX. LIKED. WHAT DOES THIS MEAN.

user: Not Max creeping in the shadows like that. George, sweetie, you seeing this? user: Netflix doesn’t even need to make a script this season. The show’s writing itself.

landonorris: MOTHER.

y/n_russell: 🔪🔪🔪 user: The knives are out. Lando, RUN.

lewishamilton: Always great to have you around. Thanks for showing up and supporting me this weekend. Much love ❤️

y/n_russell: Wouldn’t miss it for the world, you know I’m rooting for you Lew! Big things ahead 💪🏽

f1teaspill posted:

f1teaspill: Okay, F1 fans, we’ve got a hot one for you! Max Verstappen and George Russell’s sister, Y/n, were spotted on a hotel balcony together, and it’s seriously got people talking. 👀 Y/n was supposed to be at a totally different hotel with George, so why is she with Max—especially with all the drama going down between them? 🤔

Is there something going on between these two? Or is Y/n just making it clear that she’s Team Max in this ongoing feud? You know we’ll be watching this one unfold closely... 🔥

Comments:

user: Yooo, what’s going on here?! Y/n is in Max’s hotel?? 😳

user: Is this a secret relationship or is Y/n just picking sides? I need answers!! 😬

user: So Y/n's team Max now? This is messy. 👀

user: Max and Y/n are lowkey dating and no one’s telling us?! I need the receipts ASAP. 😩🔥

user: Sis really out here with Max?? I can’t believe this. George is gonna flip. 😬

user: Okay, but like... is she betraying George by cozying up with Max right now? Or is she just done with the drama? 👀

user: Nah, this can’t be real. She’s out here looking all comfy with Max while George is literally her brother?? What kind of betrayal is this? 😱

user: Is this the kind of power move we’re witnessing?? Y/n dropping George for Max?? 🤯💥

user: Ok, but lowkey, I ship them so hard. Max and Y/n would make the hottest couple. 🔥🔥

user: No, fr. Max and Y/n are EVERYTHING. They look so good together, I’m lowkey obsessed. 😍👀 user: Can we just take a minute to appreciate how they’re literally radiating chemistry? I don’t care if they’re not dating—they should be. 😩💅

user: The way she’s just chilling with Max tho... George must be somewhere crying right now. 🤣💀

f1teaspill posted:

f1teaspill: “If it weren’t for the baby.” Three words that sent the paddock and the internet into absolute mayham today after Max Verstappen dropped the bomb during an interview. 👶💣

Fans are already in detective mode, dissecting every second of this wild moment. Whose baby? Is Max a secret dad? And what does George Russell have anything to do with it?

Interview Transcript:

Journalist: Max, earlier this week George Russell referred to you as a “bully” in his recent comments. Do you have any thoughts on that?

Max: (chuckles awkwardly) Well, you know, George always has something to say. I’m not going to get into it.

Journalist: But do you think his characterization of you is fair?

Max: (sighs) Look, I’m just here to race. I’m not interested in petty drama.

Journalist: It doesn’t seem like George is letting it go anytime soon. Are you planning to address it with him directly?

Max: (visibly annoyed) I really don’t see the point in—

Journalist: But isn’t it important to clear the air, especially since the tension is so public now?

Max: (snapping) If it weren’t for the baby, I wouldn’t even bother trying to make peace with him!

(A beat of stunned silence. Max’s eyes widen in realization.)

Journalist: The… baby? What baby? Max, can you clarify—

(Max mutters something under his breath and walks off, leaving the journalist baffled.)

Comments:

user: BABY???? HELLO? MAX, EXPLAIN YOURSELF.

user: What baby, Max?! WHOSE BABY?! I haven’t been this confused since Abu Dhabi 2021.

user: Can someone please check if Max even knows what he said? He looked so panicked when he walked off.

user: “If it weren’t for the baby”??? Sir, we’re not in Panem; calm down.

user: Peeta Verstappen has entered the chat. Someone hand him a loaf of bread. user: Peeta Mellark walked so Max Verstappen could run user: I just KNOW someone’s editing Max into a Peeta scene as we speak. Can’t wait.

user: Okay but what baby would involve George? George is childless?

user: Guys, hear me out: What if Max is secretly dating George’s sister? That’s the ONLY way a baby ties them together. user: Nah, there’s no way. George would’ve punched Max into next week already. user: Okay but think about it. Max. George’s sister. A baby. Uncle George. THIS IS LORE. user: I’m just saying, George’s sister has been looking very glow-y lately… 👀 user: Not a theory, just facts: Max is babytrapping George into a truce. 💀 user: Wait... isn’t George’s sister in Abu Dhabi right now?? 👀 user: omg and they were seen together on his hotel balcony jskjsk user: I’M SCREAMING. THIS THEORY IS TOO GOOD. user: Max... the man, the myth, the secret brother-in-law.

user: F1 fandom today: trying to figure out if Max has a secret family or if we’re all just collectively hallucinating.

user: Bro, if this is true, Netflix better dedicate a whole episode to Uncle George. user: “If it weren’t for the baby” is my villain origin story now.

user: GUYS. What if Max meant baby as in, like, his cat or something? We’re spiraling.

user: Okay but why would George care about Max’s cat?! Use your brain. user: Honestly, the only thing that makes sense is Max dating George’s sister. Uncle George confirmed. Case closed.

user: Y’all, the way I will actually SCREAM if Max and George’s sister are together. This is better than any race drama.

user: Max Verstappen?? A baby daddy?? In THIS economy??

user: Everyone’s fighting over the baby, but I’m just here wondering how Christian Horner is gonna spin this in interviews.

user: Plot twist: The baby is Christian Horner’s with Toto 😭

user: STOP. This is the most chaotic F1 season ever, and I love it.

Taglist: @ilovechickenwings @spooky-librarian-ghost @diaryofarandomkid @rd14 @hc-dutch @tremendousstarlighttragedy @grussellsprout @dannyespinosa06 @awritingtree @shelbyteller @diorbrxtz @96mcobo

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nugwon · 3 days ago

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ask and you shall receive —

i’ve been so torn between jungwon and sunghoon like . both of them have this magnetism that i cannot describe

anyway, i can’t stop thinking abt a smutty scenario where the reader finds herself having to choose between the both of them and simply cannot do it so jungwon and sunghoon are like “ok, fuck that, don’t choose.”

like both guys are so down bad that they’d share the reader with each other if it meant that it made her happy ??

idk if that made sense ahshdjsj i could go into more detail but i’m feeling self conscious hiding behind my hands rn

— @yourislandgirl

💌 oh my god yes!!! you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place and as bad as they don’t want to share you they will. that’s how bad they want you 😪🤞🏽. gng shit fr

you’re looking between the both of them—they’d almost started fight just from the topic of you. “serious you’re making me pick?” you asked them both. one of the hardest decisions to date, you had to choose between two boys you liked and adored and… you didn’t know how.

“me or him,” sunghoon grunts, “if you know what’s best for you you’d pick me.” jungwon rolled his eyes at sunghoons comment. you were silent, hands on your hips as you really had to think about it. “well.. guys i can’t.. why can’t i just have you both?” you laughed trying to ease the tension in the room.

then it’s like there brains lit up at once. “deal.” they both said, coming to a conclusion because of your joke, but that’s what it was. a joke. “we can share you.. and if we’re sharing you that means.. you can have the best of both worlds.” jungwon stepped closer, sunghoon following suit.

“and i haven’t forgotten about what you said earlier—.” he chuckled. “taking us both at once, oh y/n. is one at a time not enough for you baby?” your skin ran cold, chills running down your spine. what the hell did you just create. “they say being stuck between a rock and a hard place is a bad thing,” he murmurs, smirking. “but you seem to love it.”

you instantly felt hands on your body, one running down your chest and the other down to your ass. there was a sense of possession, jealousy—“of she breaks its because of me.” sunghoon snarled. “don’t flatter yourself, fuck-face.” you mentally facepalmed. knowing you were in for one hell of a ride right now.

you sat down on the bed, deciding. ‘indulge, yolo’. kissing the both of them, letting their hands travel your body while each of yours did the same for them. each one of them just has hard as the other—probably won’t be able to take both at once—and they knew that. “we’ll make a way.” you muttered, jungwons hand slipping into your shorts while sunghoons grabbed your breast. rubbing your nipple in steady motions while jungwon spread your lips apart.

jungwon turned your face towards him. “since we’re doing this, i’ll make sure you cum harder than you ever have.

sunghoon, turning your face towards him. “and i’ll make sure he doesn’t leave you too needy. i heard his finger work when they want to.”

for them to have beef with each other, working together seemed to be the easiest thing. the way they moved. like this was planned ahead—sunghoon moving behind you while jungwon shifted in front of you. the three of you easily undressing and touching you. all the attention was on you—“suck me off while he does the hard work hm?” sunghoon whispers next to your ear. you smiled, turning around.

ass up for jungwon, leaking cunt on full display for him while sunghoon leaned against your headboard. biting harshly on his lip while waiting for you to take him. jungwons hands rested on your hips, lining himself up and pushing into you with ease. his cock dragging against your tight, velvety walls—moans leaving both of your throats.

meanwhile, sunghoons cock rested on your tongue. chest rising and falling as you swallows him whole, his hand resting on the side of your head as he guided you up and down. bobbing your head at the pace jungwon was going. “make it last, as soon as he’s done—im next.” he warned, guttural moans leaving his lips at the ruthless rhythm that flowed through the room.

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whaddayadothatfor · 2 years ago

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Eucteniza relata

Summary: After catching Miguel in the act, you realize you’re trapped in his web. Miguel, tired of your smart mouth and disobedience, has a bone to pick with you.

Content warnings: dub-con humiliation, spanking, dom/sub dynamics, faux!vampire!Miguel because I’m obsessed

AN: This man is an asshole, y’all. Yummy. This is also so so nasty. Did anyone watch The Invitation?? Remember the scene with the door? Those that get it, get it. Anyways, I hope y’all like it! Oops and before I forget, there will be a third and final part. See ya!

Taglist: @quaintii @sunflowercandie @villainarc-2 @battinsonwhore05 @friendly-reject @baker-and-fangirl @cynicallyaestetic @alnmpt

MDNI

This is the second part to Ctenizidae! Check it out here if you haven’t read it yet: Part 1

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Miguel lifts you up, holding your hips in his hands. He trails his fangs from the base of your neck to that sensitive spot right beneath your ear lobe.

He bites down gently, just enough to draw both blood and a whimper out of you. He tugs your hair back so he can do want he wants without interference, kissing and sucking and biting as he pleases, paying no mind to your choked-back moans.

When he’s had enough, he moves to whisper in your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

“You know, I’ve had just about enough of that mouth of yours—“

“My m-mouth has done nothing to you.” Miguel grabs your cheeks and smooshes them together, making all your words slur together.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about,” he groans, his head tilting upwards in exasperation. “You never know when to shut up, you always have something to say.”

You glare at him. You want to say something, but then you’d prove his point. He continues, sparing no attention to your restraint. Rude. Well then, if he’s just going to ignore you anyways, why bother?

“Y’know I have a reputation to uphold—“

“That sounds like a personal problem.” He glares at you, and you remember the position he has you in. Caged in between him and the wall, stuck between a rock and a hard place.

“It’s about to be your problem.” He lifts you easily over his shoulder and carries you across the room, dumping you unceremoniously onto the bed. “I think you need to be taught a lesson.”

As he sits down, you scramble over to the head of the bed, but Miguel grabs your ankle and yanks you back.

“Oh no, you don’t get to run. C’mere.” He manhandles you over his lap. You struggle against him, but it only works against you, like a spider’s prey working itself deeper into the web. Miguel is relentless and patient. He holds you down with one hand, waiting until you tire yourself out.

“Are you ready now?” At your silence, he continues. “Here’s what you’re gonna do: you’re going to take this spanking, like a good girl. And afterwards, you’re gonna say thank you.”

“This is ridiculous—“ You hissed after Miguel slapped your thighs, one after another in quick succession.

“I wasn’t finished. Be quiet.” He rubs the warmed skin gently before continuing. “You really have a problem with talking back. I think being on your knees will fix that. But first—“

He peels off your jeans but leaves your underwear, just enough that you ass was fully exposed. You feel like a schoolgirl getting paddled in the principal’s office. It is humiliating.

He groans, deep and guttural as he gropes your ass. “Dios mío, este culo.”

“Wait, hold on—“ He doesn’t. He strikes your right cheek, then your left. He does it over and over, in the same spot. He doesn’t stop, not when you arch your back, nor when you’re flailing your legs or even when your soft cries turn into low moans. “I can’t, Miguel. Please.”

He pauses. “Don’t pretend you’re not enjoying yourself, princesa.” He squeezes in-between your thighs and drags his two middle fingers across your slit. “Not when the evidence is dripping from your thighs.”

He shows you just how you enjoyed his attention by shoving his fingers into your mouth.

“Suck.” He fucks your throat with his long, thick fingers, making you gag and drool around them. “Good girl. Now I’m going to give you something bigger to choke on. Get on your knees.”

“No, Miguel. If you think I’m going to suck your dick like this, you’re insane.” You refuse adamantly.

“You just love to argue, huh baby?” Miguel just shakes his head. “Or maybe you just like being forced to do what you’re told. Either way, it doesn’t matter.”

He manhandles you once more, rearranging you until just your head hangs off of the bed. “I know just what you need.”

#marvel x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #fem!reader #smut #fanfic #fan fiction #spider man x reader #y/n #oscar isaac #oscar issac smut #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 smut #oscar issac characters

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valentine-cafe · 5 months ago

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stuck thinking about amab reader edging 209 rishen 😞💔💔💔

his needy lil cries 💔💔💔

˖⁺. ﹙ bttm mad scientist hybrid x top male reader. ﹚ .𖹭 ݁

. . . say please !! 🍒 : mad scientist ˖ moth-spider-mantis hybrid ˖ science ceo ˖ villain character﹙ verse 209 rishen. ﹚

your typically smooth, confident boyfriend turns into a whiney slut once he's under you

“l-leett me cuumm -”

you should be proud of yourself for getting him to this state. spread out on his deep brown desk. papers scattered across the floor and illuminated by the faint crimson lights that circle around the edges of his office. they accentuate his face twisted in need al the more.

brows creased at the centre, that tremble on his lips — oh you simply have to pepper your kisses all over his face. while your hips ease another slow, hard thrust into the bundle that sends him straight to zenith. yet wailing in the abhorration.

a proud man, is what your beloved is. a scientist with a cocky head and sly tongue. quite the achievement to have that same skillful muscle now poked from between his lips smeared in his own scarlet lipstick.

“wanna cum darling? cry some more.” your chuckle eases into a hushed groan at the thrum of his tight walls around your cock. for all you know, he is trying to milk you dry.

with his sounds and the way his ass flutters, clenches and pulses around you? well, you wouldn’t think it too far fetched.

“p-please - please, por favor - I-I’m sorry, I’ll try harder - ah-!”

it is not much, really. all it took was a steady rock of your hips. a rhythm that they fall back into that has his eyes fluttering like that of a butterfly’s rapid wings. he certainly does seem to be flying straight into the clouds with the way his head tosses back into the desk and his hips cradle up into yours.

while his moans are a delight to your ears, your palm itches. sated only when it hooks around his throat and your thumb presses into his pulse. feels the sweet thrum of his racing heart and attempt to time your thrusts with it. chase the pace until he tightens. tenses. cries.

“y-yes - yes yes - yes please fuck pl—nhooo nononono-”

the air he sucks in burns his lungs. much like the tears that pour from his pitiful maroon eyes when you slam all the way in and halt once more. the only thing better than stealing his release from him - is beholding his reaction when your own fills him to the brim.

again.

“darllinngg,” you slur. the lazy grin on your lips makes his breathes heavier. surely if he was in the right state of mind, he would have snapped at you ten times and over. all that wells in its place are his hushed breaths linked with sniffles and cries. a delight for your arousal. “oh. . . aww baby, is it too much? yeah?”

your palm spreads to deliver a pointed spank to his ass. a clap through the office that is certainly heard from the assistants busy at work just outside his door. not that you care. his cries alone are signal enough that the charming, cunning ceo of valence is splayed out on his own desk and whining for his lover. whining for you.

“I. . . I-I fuck. . . hhinng h-hate you.”

“shame.”

you only click your tongue and bring a thumb to his tip. make him hate you more with the slow swirls and languid rub against his slit that sends shivers down his spine. has his head tilting back with lips parted, fangs on display and noises oh. so needy.

since he enjoys complaining so much, you’ll withdraw your cock from his walls. give him another spank when he tries to plead for you to fill him up. and while you would love to simply flip him onto his tummy and bend him over the desk — you are simply too caught up in the sinful leak of your own cum that drips out of him.

like a mockery to his quivering dick that weeps for release.

perfect for your plan. two skillful fingers collect the slick and trace back to his fluttery hole. since he has so many complaints, perhaps your fingers will be of better use to him?

hardly, the poor thing will find himself whining and crying over his desk regardless. yet all you’ll do is squeeze around his throat and piston your hand until he’s on the brink - then swap out once more.

#﹙ cupcake rush. ﹚: rishen 209 𖹭 ݁#male reader #monster boyfriend #teratophillia #terato #monster fucker #monster x reader #oc x reader #monster oc #x reader #reader insert #original character x reader #hybrid x reader #mad scientist x reader #villain x reader #ceo x reader #x male reader #rishen 209 #asterism

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s4nniebe4r · 2 months ago

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the roommate

part six: brush it off

pairing: roommate! san x fem! reader

synopsis: you finally let out your frustrations, and so does he?

wc: 2.7k

tags: slow burn, roommates, enemies to lovers, angst, forced proximity, eventual romance, some explicit language

etc: double update?! yes, because i can and am impatient! do we like angry san? also, let’s keep in mind this is not an accurate description of who san is and how he acts! this is purely fiction! not proofread, liebchens!

previous part next part

It’s been a few days since your last call with Seonghwa about your recent episode. You walk into the living room, ready to finally relax after a long day. Your muscles are really just craving the comfort of the couch, the cushions usually engulf you like a hug. But, as you make your way to it, your eyes narrow in disbelief.

San’s stuff is everywhere. His dirty habit is all over the living area.

His jacket is draped over the armrest, his sneakers are left carelessly at the foot of the couch, and his bag is sprawled across the cushions on the opposite side that he’s on. He’s completely unaware of the chaos, too focused on whatever he had on the screen.

You exhale sharply, standing still for a moment, trying to calm your frustration. It’s one of those things that’s been slowly driving you mad, but now? You just can’t let it go anymore.

Without looking up from the screen, San mutters, “What?”

You scowled, hands now moving to your hips. “I didn’t realize the couch was now exclusively yours,” you shot, your voice laced with irritation.

San glances up briefly, his face impassive. “You could have just asked me to move it, instead of acting like a martyr. Or you could move it yourself,” he says casually, as if it isn’t a big deal.

Your frustration only flares. You aren’t about to just let it slide. “I shouldn’t have to move it,” you snap, sitting down heavily next to the pile of things, trying to make it clear how annoyed you are. You’re now wedged between the cushions in a tight, uncomfortable spot. You try to ignore the inconvenience, but the tension only grows. “I’m not your personal maid.”

San doesn’t seem to get the hint, he never does. His gaze returns to the TV, focusing on the game, his expression rather unchanged. “You could sit somewhere else,” he says, his voice light, like it’s no big deal.

You shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest, now sandwiched between the cushions and his mess. “I shouldn’t have to ask to sit down, San. Why does your stuff always have to be everywhere?”

His response comes with a soft, distracted laugh. “You’re making a big deal out of nothing. It’s just the couch, just move the stuff. It’s not that hard.”

Your jaw tightens, the irritation now rising into anger. You can’t understand why he’s so oblivious to how it makes you feel. “It’s not just about the couch, San. It’s everything. The way you take up the space here and never even think about how it affects me.”

San doesn’t take his eyes off the screen. He’s fully immersed in the game now, his thumb flicking over the controller with easy skill as he moves characters around. “You could just tell me if you want something changed. But instead, you’ve kept quiet and now you’re just spouting bullshit.”

The words sting more than they should. You feel your chest tighten. “I’m always telling you. But you never listen. You only listen when it’s conveniently late.”

He huffs, his jaw setting in a way that very distinctly shows he’s getting annoyed too. “I’m listening right now, aren’t I? But I can’t do anything about it if you don’t actually talk to me when it matters.”

You’re standing up now, your frustration bubbling over, no longer able to stay stuck between what you see as a rock and a hard place, even though it’s really just his mess of your space. “It’s not just about the damn couch, okay? It’s everything. You’ve been playing this game for hours, and I can’t even get a moment to myself. It’s like you’re so wrapped up in what you want and nothing else matters.”

San finally looks over at you, his brows furrowed, but then his eyes return to the screen, his fingers never pausing. “You’re really going to bring that up? The TV? The game? That’s what’s bothering you? Right now?”

You scoff, throwing your hands in the air. “It’s not just the damn game, San. It’s everything! The TV, the temperature—you always keep it freezing in here! And let’s not even talk about the dishes, or the fact that you leave your crap everywhere, like it’s some kind of storage space.”

San finally pauses his games, his fingers tightening their grip around the controller. He turns his head toward you, brows furrowing. “So now I’m supposed to keep the place at your perfect temperature? What, just because you can’t handle a little cold? I live here too, Y/N.”

“That’s not the point, and you know it. I’m trying to say, you don’t think about anyone else living here. You don’t even try to meet me halfway.”

San lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head slightly. “That’s rich, coming from you. You act like you’re the only one dealing with anything in this apartment.”

Your fists unconsciously start to clench at your sides, heat rising in your chest. “Oh really? So please, San, tell me—what exactly am I doing that’s so unbearable?”

His jaw tightens. “For starters? You take up all the cabinets in the bathroom, you’re constantly rearranging the kitchen items, and you never turn the stove off. Not to mention you’re always slamming shit around when you’re mad instead of saying anything. If something bothers you so much, why do I have to play detective and figure it out? All you have to do is say something, literally anything.”

You breath hitches, air stuck in your throat. You knew he noticed, but hearing him say it like that—like you’re childish—makes your stomach twist with something sharp. “Maybe because when I do say something, you brush it off. You never actually listen until it gets to this point. And by then, it’s too late to even say anything further.”

San stands up now, tossing the controller onto the couch a little rougher than he should have, meeting you now. “No, you just wait until you’re pissed off to dump everything on me all at once. And I’m supposed to just sit here and take it?”

And just like that, your throat tightens, a familiar sting rising behind your eyes. It always happens when things get too emotionally charged, when the tension builds past the point of your control. You hate it. You hate that no matter how angry you feel, your body betrays you, turning frustration into something softer, something weaker. That’s why you never liked fighting. Why you never want to bring things up with San. Because you know, you knew it would end like this—your voice shaking, your vision blurring, emotions spilling over in ways you can't stop. You don’t want to cry. Not here, not now, and definitely not in front of him. You tilt your head back slightly, eyes flickering toward the ceiling as if that will somehow force the tears back into place.

He exhales sharply. “Oh, what, now you’re gonna act like I’m the bad guy?” His voice is a little quieter now, but there’s something else there—frustration, exhaustion. Maybe something more? But you don’t let yourself think too much about it.

You shake your head, stepping back, trying to regain even the smallest bit of control over this moment, over yourself. “I don’t want to do this, San.”

“Oh, you don’t?” He scoffs, his head dipping a little, his own voice strained now. “Because it sure as hell seems like you do—considering you just unloaded every single thing that’s been pissing you off for months.”

You clench your jaw, turning on your heel to leave. “I’m done. I don’t even know why I—”

But before you can't even take another step, his hand wraps around your wrist. Firm. Not forceful, but it’s definitely there. Stopping you. Pulling you back, closer than where you stood previously.

“You can’t just say all of that and walk away,” he says, and this time, his voice is low. Measured. Almost unreadable, as what you’ve grown accustomed to.

You freeze. His fingers are warm despite the cold air that always lingers in the apartment. His grip isn’t too tight, but it anchors you in your place, and suddenly, there's a stolen breath from your lungs.

You look up at him, ready to snap, ready to pull your arm away as harshly as you can, to—

But the moment your eyes meet his, everything shifts.

The sharp words on your tongue die out where they were, swallowed by the space between you—what little of it remains. His fingers are still wrapped around your wrist. You should pull away, you should end this here before the arguments gets to be too much, but neither of you move.

Instead, you decided to continue, it seems that’s what he wants, anyway.

“I wouldn’t have had to say all of that if you actually listened,” you bite out, voice wavering between anger and something else that you can’t quite pinpoint.

San steps closer. Not enough to touch, but enough that you can feel the heat radiating from him, enough that you can see the way his muscles flex in his face, the way his brows furrow as his own frustration builds. “You’re acting like I never pay attention to you,” he snaps. “Like I don’t—” He stops himself, exhales sharply, shaking his head. “Forget it.”

“No,” you push, voice still shaking but a little firmer now. “Say it, you clearly want to.”

His eyes flicker with something unreadable. The muscle in his jaw locks. “You think I don’t notice things about you?” He lets out, his voice low and rougher now. “That I don’t know you get cold way too easily, even when it’s barely snowing outside? That you always sigh when the water filter isn’t taken care of? That you leave the lights on and act like you don’t even though I see you do it night after night?”

Your breath catches where it is.

His grip on your wrist loosens now, but doesn’t drop.

You should say something—anything—but the way he’s looking at you is knocking the air out of your lungs. And it only makes you more uncomfortable with how you’re feeling. The tears in your eyes begging to be let loose.

And then—his eyes flicker downward.

Your stomach flips.

San isn’t breathing. Neither are you. Your pulse thrums in your ears, drowning out every thought, every rational part of you screaming that this, this is too close, this is too much. You can feel the warmth of his breath, the tension surrounding you, it’s so thick, it’s suffocating.

And then, his hand moves.

Gently, so gently, something so different than the first touch on your wrist. His fingers brush up against the side of your face. His thumb drags across your jaw, moving up until it swipes across your cheek, catching the single tear that had fallen against your will.

You suck in a breath—barely a sound, but you know he hears it. How could he not?

San doesn't move away. Not yet. His thumb lingers for a fraction of a second longer than it should, his touch warm, his expression unreadable.

You don’t move. You can’t. There’s something different in the way he’s looking at you now, looking into you—not quite anger, it’s not soft, but something simmering beneath it all, something too heavy, too much to put your finger on. His brows are drawn together and his jaw is tensing, relaxing, and tensing all over again, like he’s trying to decide between something.

And yet, through it all, his hands don’t leave your skin.

Your own breath is shallow, barely there, as if exhaling too harshly would shatter whatever fragile thing is spinning itself between you.

San’s eyes flicker, tracing every inch of your face—lingering at the corner of your lips, dipping briefly to your mouth before darting back up like he wasn’t supposed to look, like he wasn’t even supposed to think about it.

His thumb moves again, featherlight across your cheekbone, following the path of the tear that betrayed you. His touch burns, knot in the way that hurts, but in the way that it brands itself into your memory, searing its permanence, a heat that will stay long after he eventually decides to let go.

You swallow, your throat dry, too tight, too tense. Your own fingers twitch at your sides, caught in something invisible between pushing him away or pulling him a little closer.

He’s still looking at you. You’re still looking at him.

And inevitably, your eyes flutter shut.

That’s all it seems to take.

San’s fingers shift, tilting your face upwards, guiding you just a little closer. His other hand leaves your wrist, skimming lightly up the length of your arm, tracing the fabric of your sleeve until his palm ghosts over your shoulder.

The distance between you is barely anything now—a breath away, you can feel it.

And then—

Your phone rings.

The sharp buzzing in your pocket shatters the moment, yanking you back into reality so fast it makes your head spin.

San pulls back instantly, almost as fast as you, exhaling harshly, as if just realizing how close you both had been; like he was suddenly snapped out of something he wasn’t supposed to be in. His hand drops from your skin as if he was burnt from the touch of it. His jaw clenches, and before you can say anything—before you can even breathe properly—he runs a hand through his hair, stepping back, the heat of his touch lingering against your skin.

You don’t look at him when you answer the call. But you don’t have to, because you can feel his gaze burning into you.

You blink, chest rising and falling way too fast, mind scrambling to catch up to what just happened.

Seonghwa.

His name flashes on your screen like a cruel joke, and with trembling fingers, you fumble to answer. San doesn’t say anything. But out of the corner of your eye, you see it—his hand running through his hair, gripping at it a little too harshly, his jaw clenched so tight you think it might hurt.

You don’t let yourself look at him any longer.

You clear your throat, voice uneven, and lift the phone to your ear as you turn on your heel one last time for the night, and leave—quickly, too quickly—before he can say anything, before you can process the way his stare is still boring into your back.

The door shuts behind you harshly as you step into your room, pressing your forehead against the cold frame of it for just a second, trying to collect yourself.

“Y/N?” Seonghwa’s voice is light, casual, completely unaware of what he just interrupted.

“Uh—yeah,” you breathe, trying to force normalcy back into your tone.

“You good?”

“Yeah, just—yeah. What’s up?”

“You want to hang out tomorrow?” Seonghwa asks easily, not even pushing the wreckage of whatever just happened on the other side of the line. “Me and the other guys are getting together for an evening. We thought you’d wanna come.”

You press your lips together, fingers curling around your phone as your gaze flickers toward the door. You can still feel San’s presence just beyond it, the weight of everything that almost happened settling into your chest like a storm waiting to let out its first stroke of lightning.

But instead of acknowledging it, instead of thinking about it, you force yourself to focus on Seognhwa’s words instead. And you pretend.

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” You let out.

“Okay, and what about San? He’s at the apartment, right? I figured I could get an answer from him while I’m at it.” He responds back as he puts his phone on speaker to do whatever it was that he needed.

“Uh…” You pause. “We’ll be there.”

“Great! We’ll see you tomorrow.” Seonghwa says as he moves around his apartment. “Oh and that reminds me…” He continues.

And you pretend. At least you don’t have to deal with what’s beyond your bedroom door until tomorrow evening. So you hum into the speaker and let Seonghwa continue.

#choi san #san #san ff #san fanfic #san fluff #san soft hours #san x reader #ateez fluff #ateez soft hours #ateez #ateez soft thought #ateez choi san #ateez san #choi san x reader #choi san fanfic #choi san ff #choi san fic

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lotusunique · 9 months ago

Text

Cuts and Bruises

A.Aretas x BlackFem!Reader

Okay so I lost the comment that this was based off but they gave me the idea by basically saying “there’s something about a man bloodied and bruised looking at you like you’ve just hung the moon that does sum to me” and I loved it so here we are!

TW:Mild themes of SA! Mild themes of violence

Tonight was supposed to be fun. Tonight you were supposed to go out and hang with your best friends. But no. You were stuck working at this shitty bar you called a job.

You’d already had a terrible week as it was and now your dickweed of a boss had put you on the schedule. Not to mention this tight ass uniform was huggin all the wrong places.

“Get in and get out. Quick shift”,was all you managed to repeat to yourself through out your slow paced work shift. As you dried a shot glass you recognize a familiar face walk through the door.

The infamous Armando Aretas. He was a regular at this point. Often just coming in after he came from wherever he was. He seemed like the mysterious type so you chose never to pry unless you two were in deep conversation.

He walks over to the bar before opening his mouth, “I know, a jack and coke on the rocks. Lite”,you smirk over at him as he takes a seat. You quickly make his drink and head back over to him.

“I thought you weren’t gonna be here tonight”,he eyes you with a weird look. “Yea I wasn’t supposed to but here I am”,you grown. “Eventually I’m just gonna grow old and die here”,you shrug. “Well,let me know when that is, I’ll grow old with you in here. “, he gives a smile back.

The two of you casually chat until your coworker leans over to you, “can you help out at table 7, I’ve gotta hit the bathroom really quick”, she says before scurrying off to the bathroom.

“ I’ll be right back”, you advise Armando before turning to the table you have to tend to. You walk over to the table which happens to be a group of drunk men. Older maybe 40-50. Obviously they can’t hold their liquor as they’re highly roudy and the smell of beer is pouring off them.

“Hello, what can I get you today?”,You say in your customer service voice. “Shit are you on the menu?”,one of the men gives a deep laugh. You resist the urge to scrunch up your face, “our house specials are up on the board”, you point.

As you turn to show the specials, you feel a hard slap across your ass. You turn back to the men with so much shock across your face. You didn’t plan on loosing your job tonight but you knew you were about to.

The group of men sit around giggling as you put your server book onto the table near by and taking off your earrings. “Oh look, this bitch thinks someone’s scared of her.”,one of the men voices. Before you know it, your fist is flying clean across the man’s face. You prepare to take on all of them but when you look up, Armando’s beating the shit out of them all.

You didn’t know he’d been watching the whole situation unfold but you were happy he was. Within the next thirty seconds to a minute, the fight is broken up by nearby bar goers. The group of men scatter through the front door before you turn to Armando.

“C’mon let’s get you cleaned up”, you say before taking him to a storage space in the back of the bar. You nod over to a somewhat tall desk placed against the wall, “sit”. He gives you an “I don’t want to” look. “Sit.”,you say sternly, shooting him daggers with your eyes. “Yes Ma’am”,He smirks over at you, looking for the first aid kit you didn’t get the chance to see his sly expression.

“Found you!”,you say quietly excited to yourself. Armando gives you a weird glance. “You wanna judge me or you wanna get patched up”,You raise an eyebrow at him as you move towards him, standing in between his legs, meaning you tower him by a little. “You right you right. Patch me up Nurse Y/L/N.”,he smiles.

“Shut up”, you say pulling out an alcohol wipe to clean up a big cut right across his eyebrow, funny enough it’s right above his eyebrow slit. “I’m sorry. Does it hurt?”,you ask eyeing his response. “Not really. Just wanted to make you feel bad”,he looks up at you with a laugh. “You play too damn much”, You laugh, lightly shoving him.

“In a second I’m finna whoop your ass”, you laugh,still cleaning up the light bruises on his face. It was normal for the two of you to talk like this from time to time. Surprisingly one of your best friendships was with someone who just walked into your job one day. You loved that even when he was just in a fight, all bloodied and bruised he still was the finest man you’d ever seen in your natural born life.

“Shit I’m not opposed”,he smirks up at you. “Armando get out my face”,you laugh. “Thank you also.”, you say as you place a band aid on a cut directly on his forehead. “For what?”,he asks. “For beating up those Assholes”, you smile. “Hey I was just following your lead”, he laughs. “Where’d you learn to punch like that?”, he asks.

“My dad was a navy seal. Before he died he taught me everything he knew. So if you think about it, I’m kinda a killing machine. But I promise I use my powers for good”, you say as the two of you laugh.

“This is the most I’ve ever seen you smile in here”, you say noticing how pretty his teeth are. He really kinda is the full package somethings gotta be wrong.

“Wassup with you. I get a vibe but I don’t know the full story so I don’t know if the vibe I’m getting is right.”, you explain. “Well what’s the vibe you’re getting?”,he asks, intrigued.

“ Sometimes I think you’re feeling me then not so much. And it’s kinda like you’re this perfect package. Somethings gotta be off”,you shrug.

“You got a baby mama?”

“No”

“Multiple baby mamas?”

“No”

“Multiple babies”

“There are no babies involved”

“Okay… you a felon?”

*silence*

“Ahhh, ding ding.”

*silence*

“What’d you do? Im not judging I dated a con man once”, You shrug before he burst out laughing.

“That shit is not funny. He tried to steal my identity.”, you let out a laugh.

“Oh but to answer that wavering thought in your head”, Armando says before standing up. He pulls you into him before placing a kiss upon your lips. The kiss wasn’t hungry like you’d expected. It was soft and subtle. It made you wanna melt and you loved every second of it. “I want you. I just was giving you time to realize I was gon have you”, he brushes his thumb against your lips.

#bad boys ride or die #armando aretas #bad boys for life #armando x reader #bad boys

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hawaiifiveoh · 4 months ago

Text

sightline part two | steve mcgarrett

masterlist

You didn't want to get involved with 5-0's case, yet somehow you now were. McGarrett’s happy to have help, but is that the only reason????

steve mcgarrett x reader (working on it)

part one

Author’s note: Pt. 2 after 2 years, guysssss, lol

1.4k words

pls read pt 1 here if you haven't

“What do you need, McGarrett? I just got some new t-shirts in to try on.” The man noted with a grin.

“Kamekona, I’m just here for the shave ice.”

“No way, brother, you’re always strictly business at this time of day,” he argued, finally noticing the Commander wasn’t alone. The restaurateur's eyebrows rose, entertained, “Ah, it’s a date!”

“No,” you replied without hesitation, choosing to mumble more various forms of the phrase, as Kamekona nodded and slowly let the forced silence of the shaved ice maker take over. You couldn’t recall if you had heard McGarrett say anything in response to the assumption. You had already ordered and changed the subject while Steve was putting his wallet away, but he was still slightly amused at your antics.

“You’re positive this isn’t a date?” He asked, half-smirk casually yet purposefully forming as he looked right at you again. Not wanting to be a target of his line of vision, or give into some ambiguous repartee that took too much energy at this point, you ignored it,

“Who were those guys from before exactly? And what the hell are they looking for?”

“If you are in need of a bodyguard, my security services are available for a fee.” Kamekona cooly offered, placing the shave ices on the counter.

“Kamekona, knock it off,” Steve ordered, before turning back to you, “I can’t say because that’s about the case.”

“Come on,” you scoffed, “Really?”

“I told you no case talk because this wasn’t an attempt at covert bribery despite what you claimed on the ride over here.”

“Fine then,” you said, crossing your arms, rocking on your heels, “Thanks for the shave ice” you said, grabbing it then walking off to sit down. You took a bite and crunched the ice between your teeth to do something.

McGarrett caught up with you in a few steps, joining you at the table, “Can I ask you something?”

You took a deep breath of the Hawaiian air and exhaled, “What?”

“You knew Whitlock, you worked at the firm.”

“I knew him well enough to avoid him.”

“The misplaced money from the accounts.”

“I had no idea about that, it was after I was gone,” you paused, realizing, “You have a double standard on what’s considered case talk, McGarrett.”

“Listen,” he began, “We’re on shaky ground with this, and the FBI’s pulling jurisdiction because it overlaps with some rico case they’ve been working on and don’t wanna screw up. 5-0 is trying our best to get some justice here for the victims. Your skill set and knowledge would definitely help take this guy down.”

You just stared at him, holding your ground, trying to read him in the silence.

“And I’ll owe you one.”

“Like a favor? No conditions?” You asked.

“Yeah, you have my word,” Steve reverted to such a boy scout when the words came out of his mouth, it was hard to doubt the honor, despite only meeting him twice.

“Your word…” you repeated and sighed to yourself.

The SEAL recognized it wasn’t an immediate hard no, which was an improvement. So, he ate another mouthful of shave ice, his mood transforming to an eager kid for a split second. He didn’t say anything else.

The sea breeze and quiet felt nice after being stuck in that windowless room where time ceased and talking didn’t. It’s not like you were in a rush to come home to a trashed apartment to clean up, and there still were those agents who were lurking around even if McGarrett did shake them up.

“I’m supposed to just trust you?”

“Have I given you a reason not to trust me?”

“Not yet, but let’s just say I’m erring on the side of caution. After all, the FBI apparently abducted me in the last 24 hours and wants to pin me as an accomplice to my loser ex-boss’ mess.”

“I’m part of 5-0, we're not the same.”

“Fine. So tell me about those guys who were subject to your violent combat and how it’s all different.”

McGarrett closed his mouth, and huffed out an exhale. He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, and then he surprisingly complied with your question and all the follow up questions. When you were walking back to the truck, you quietly slipped out, “What exactly do you need help with?”

______________________

The inside of 5-0 headquarters was surprisingly quiet, not like you had any expectations really. You were soon joined by another man you recognized from your first meeting with McGarrett. Danny Williams had managed to both maintain an empathetic yet judgmental look on his face as he came out of his office to greet you and Steve.

“I’m here to go over the case accounting documents. That's all.” You defended.

The blonde nodded, more like he was convincing you of the sentence you said, stifling a chuckle, “That’s what he told you, didn’t he?”

You eyed the detective briefly, wondering what that was supposed to mean, before he continued on, “Anyways, welcome, welcome,” his hands waving to you to come over, a sincere smile on his face, “We do really appreciate the help because we are floundering.”

“Floundering?” Steve repeated, his voice mocking his partner’s choice of words.

“Yeah, floundering. Learn some new words, neanderthal.” Danny quipped, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the dynamic you were witness to.

“You guys are fun.”

“He isn’t fun. And he’s barely even funny. I’m both.” Steve corrected.

Danny just craned his neck so far back he could’ve gotten whiplash, processing the emotional juvenility of his taller partner, a “Wow,” being drawn out in a soft, low, longer syllable. Steven ignored him.

You soon learned Whitlock had been one step ahead every move that followed after you found a lead from your data analysis. You psychologically had profiled this guy from your real world experience working in his offices and knew he wasn’t following the trajectory McGarrett had become so sure that he was. So when regrouping plans were being discussed again, you spoke up,

“He’s not at the marina. It’s a waste of time.”

“What makes you so sure?” Steve questioned, crossing his arms.

“He’s not going to be on that yacht. He's not a runner. He wants to hide and pretend to feel in charge.”

“All the facts point to the marina.”

“No, all your obvious facts do. That’s not all of the facts. There’s this cabin that’s near Kualoa Ranch, it was a mailing address for an old magazine subscription. The house is under an in-laws name. No one would think to go there with all these other records and assets.”

“I’ve been running this, and I think I know what the facts are saying.”

“Well, I think I know better than you,” you said, crossing your arms, Steve taken aback only a little, but still enough for the team to notice.

“Hey, hey guys,” a New Jersey voice cut in, hands disturbing the air space, “Time ticking. Whitlock still missing.”

“Hey that rhymed!” Kono piped up, a grin on her face that soon dropped, “Danny’s right, though. And we need to make a decision before we lose him for good.”

______________________

After the case wrapped, the team finally had a moment to relax with a round of drinks. Danny, who took any opportunity to humble Steve, seized the opportunity to remind everyone you were right about Whitlock’s location.

“I never said I was right, Danny!” McGarrett defended.

“You don’t have to, your behavior says enough.” The detective noted, leaning back into his chair.

“Alright, alright,” the SEAL conceded, raising his beer for a simple toast, “I want to thank you guys for your effort on this case and dealing with the FBI roadblocks and pushback, as well as the major help from Y/N, who was the main reason why we actually solved this case.”

The clinks of glasses were the sound of the team’s appreciation, and in the passing of congratulations, you briefly crossed into Steve’s sightline again. You had started to collect the looks: the interrogation room, the triage at the truck, the shave ice stand. You were keeping them because what if they were shaping into something you could see for yourself instead of the invisible unspoken air. That’s what you were starting to hope. The pause was lost, Steve shifting his gaze away.

“I was the one, though, who asked Y/N to help us in the first place, I’m just saying,” McGarrett added.

He had said it on purpose, just to let Danny rant and feel right again, but also because he knew he broke the stare this time, not you.

I haven't written in such a longgggg time, so if you enjoyed this and are even remotely interested in a part 3 anymore, please let me know 🙏

reader tag: @remembered-license

#steve mcgarrett x reader #steve mcgarrett imagine #steve mcgarrett #h50 #hawaii five-0 #steve mcgarrett fanfiction #steve mcgarrett x y/n

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urhoneycombwitch · 1 year ago

Note

thinking about post-vecna Eddie in recovery with a little bit of post-traumatic amnesia

it takes him a bit to remember the kids and the adults, but it isn't long before he's falling back into his usual repertoire with them

but for some reason, his brain just blocked out significant other!reader. Having them around is comforting and he knows that they are important to him, he just can't figure out why

And the nurse advised against telling Eddie too much too soon because it might be overwhelming so reader is stuck between a rock and hard place of whether they're should tell Eddie they are/we're dating or if they should wait until maybe he remembers or wants to start a relationship (but there's also the fear that maybe the knock to his head might have changed his affections and he won't want them anymore)

Until finally they end up telling him, all emotional and worried how he's gonna take it

But all he does is flop his head back against the hospital pillow going "Thank GOD" because he finally understood why he was getting so jealous when reader and Steve came to visit him and why it just felt wrong when Steve's arm was slung around reader's shoulder comfortingly

He had already been planning to ask reader out anyways, when he was all better and rockin' and cool, but now he's over the moon with relief and happiness that hey, they're already together!

amnesia trope my beloved!!!!

yeah Eddie’s watching you from his hospital bed thru the little hallway window. you’re talking quietly to Steve- why he’s gotta be here Eddie’s unsure, seems like it’s just to flirt with you 🙄. but why would that matter to Eddie? you don’t belong to him. not his property. or his girl.

doesn’t change the fact that he’s getting grumpier by the second, as you touch Steve’s arm (you’re simply saying goodbye but Eddie’s spiraling a lil). when you come back in the room and take your place by Eddie’s side again you can tell something’s off, he’s pouting, distant-

“are you okay?”

the concern in your voice sits like a rock in Eddie’s stomach. he wants to do anything but make you feel bad. he twists one of the hospital wires that he’s connected to in his fingers, still slightly sulky- “yeah. I just… I know I don’t really have any right to say this to you, ‘cuz you’ve been a really good friend, better than I deserve through this whole weird time. but- I’m saying this as Steve’s buddy, too- I don’t think you two are right for each other.”

your silence is deafening. Eddie thinks he’s fucked everything up. and then- wait, are you laughing?

through a fit of giggles, you’re leaning over to take Eddie’s hand in both of yours- “sorry. sorry. I really don’t mean to make fun… it’s just- you do have a right. to be jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Eddie says too quickly. “…but if I were… what do you mean, I do have the right?”

there’s an emotion Eddie’s never seen before on your face- or maybe he has, ‘cuz that look in your eye (like you’re fighting something back) is striking a chord from deep in the recesses of his memories. fuzzy and unclear but deeply affecting.

he sweeps a thumb down the length of your palm, like he’s done a thousand times before.

the storm brewing in your eyes clears, and when you lean forward to kiss him, Eddie swears he can taste the sunshine in your mouth.

“not Steve’s,” you pull a hairsbreadth away to whisper.

Eddie is cupping the backs of your elbows, holding you in place, gaze roving over your face, heart thrumming quick in his throat as that same chord strikes, memories swimming a little further to the surface.

“kiss me again?” it’s an inch away from begging, he knows- must be reaaaal soft on ‘em to be speaking like that- but luckily, you seem to like it, leaning in again with a soft smile.

“you can have all the kisses you want, Eddie. from now on.”

#loved this anon #I love a hospital setting for fics #eddie munson x reader #lu’s anons #e.m. thots from lu

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whumblr · 5 months ago

Text

Dead of night

Crossed out - Continued from ch.10 - Prologue

With a heavy-handed sigh, Lucas slid into an open seat at the long breakfast table among his ‘work’ buddies and deposited his tray with a disgusted glance.

“Beatings continue until the morale improves,” he muttered and dragged a spoon through the slob they called porridge, “but the food here continually destroys any bit of morale you build up…”

The man next to him, Trey, guffawed softly into his sludge. When he made eye contact he quickly glanced away again, but with a soft smile.

“You’re finally starting to get it, newbie.”

“Finally being the key word here,” the man across from them spoke up. When Lucas looked at him in question he didn’t look up, just kept his head down and continued: “Nero says you’re a fast learner. I say you’re a fucking dumbass.”

“Hey, I watch and learn,” Lucas countered a little offended, recalling Marcus’ words.

“Sure, that’s why you got that black eye.”

“And you were limping back to your cell last night.”

“Learn faster.”

“He’s gonna learn sooner or later that everyone here calls him ‘that new dumb fuck’.

Lucas huffed, but with a smile. It’s not like he could counter that. His intelligence wasn’t really the problem here; more the fact that his stubbornness just kept overriding every logical decision he had to make here. And being stuck between a rock and a hard place didn’t really bring out his best decision making skills. Maybe he didn’t perform as well under stress as he had always thought. Or corporate stress was just a whole different beast.

He brought his fork up to his lips. Wasn’t porridge supposed to be at least somewhat liquid? They say chewing more will make you feel like you’re more full. But chewing on this… well, he hadn’t decided yet whether that was a crime or the punishment.

He swallowed the bite in one go. Pulled a face. “Do they sell snacks at the shop? I think I’m gonna need to be able to look forward to some good, overly sweetened processed food every now and then.”

“Wait ‘til lunch,” one of the guys said.

“Get your essentials first. Then snacks,” another said with some better advice.

“What are the essentials? I got my toothbrush and slippers…”

“Painkillers, in your case, seem essential.”

“They sell that here?!”

“Sure, just mild variants.”

Still, every little bit would help, Lucas thought. Would’ve been nice if he’d known about that earlier, but he wouldn’t have had money saved for it anyway. He still refused to visit the infirmary. It felt like admitting defeat, plugging up some of the cracks with aspirin.

“You got earplugs yet?” Trey asked.

“I don’t have a bunkmate so I don’t need it.”

The conversation halted and all the men glanced up at him, then looked around at each other, uncomfortable. Trey whispered, “It’s not for the snoring…”

“What?” Lucas looked up but they all avoided his gaze. “What then?”

“Speak for yourself, Trey,” one man said with forced laughter after the silence became too tense. “You try sleeping in the same cell as Lorenzo.”

“Actually, two cells down I can still hear Lorenzo.”

“Even with earplugs in.”

“Hey.”

The man across from him tried to steer the conversation away. “You’re so lucky you don’t have a roommate, though,” he said wistfully.

“Actually, I think it’s the other way around. With the speed this guy is turning Nero into his mortal enemy, I’d say we all are lucky not to have him as a roomie.”

Lucas, getting more and more confused with the breakneck speed they all danced around several subjects, piped up. “Why’s that?”

The conversation instantly gloomed again.

“You saw what happened to Graff,” Trey said softly, patiently.

“Yeah?”

“Nero employs something we call the buddy system. When you break one of the rules, Nero doesn’t just punish you, but your cellmate as well. It works well.”

After witnessing the unfair punishment of Graff, Lucas had suspected something like that, but to hear it said out loud… that just hit different. “I bet,” he said, a bitter undertone in his voice.

Right on cue, Nero marched into the cafeteria and Lucas found he couldn’t keep the bitterness in.

“Found another evildoer to punish,” he said a tad too loud as Nero stomped by, and he instantly regretted it.

Nero stopped dead in his tracks. Very slowly he turned towards him, straightening up as if daring him to repeat that and within a five yard radius, the conversations around him stilled. Nero shot him a glance that turned the gooey breakfast in his stomach to solid lead. “Why don’t we discuss this in my office tonight, Varga?” he said, no louder than necessary.

Fuck him and his big waffle… Nero kept staring at him, holding a steely eye contact until Lucas muttered a defeated “Yes, sir” and stared into his bowl. Then Nero stoically marched on.

The man across from him raised his eyebrows in a way that said both ‘yikes’ and ‘yeahh’ and he mouthed an exaggerated “Learn faster,” as he picked up his tray and stood.

That night, after fervently ‘discussing’ his outburst in the cafeteria, Nero spoke to the figure outstretched on the floor. “Now I was quite sure you were in the company of Georgiou at your first breakfast. Didn't he teach you anything?”

Lucas groaned, not recognising the name with Nero’s stupid tendency to call everyone by their last name. “Marcus?” He pushed himself onto his elbows and glared at Nero who barely nodded. “Yeah, he told me to keep my head down.”

“Shame you didn't listen to him.”

Normally, he’d accept the hidden implications behind those words and assumed the threat was for him. But after what he heard this morning, about Nero’s buddy system, a panic rose in him and his head shot up, eyes searching Nero’s to find out what he meant by that. “You’re not going after him for this? Right?”

“I won’t, Nero said, short. “Unlike you, Georgiou is a model prisoner. Just... join him for lunch a little more often. Maybe it will rub off on you.”

And Lucas knew they both severely doubted that.

Luckily, their ‘discussion’ that night was a short one and for once Lucas was allowed the dignity to walk back to his cell instead of limping or hurriedly wobbling across the halls to make curfew.

Relief still shot through his body when he could finally lie down on his cot, and he folded his hands behind his head, processing everything he heard today. He glanced at the other empty bed in the cell, indeed glad he didn’t have a bunkmate, but now for other reasons than just his privacy. If he had a bunkmate… well, he would’ve had a little more incentive to have kept his mouth shut this morning and at other times. Getting responsibility beaten into you for your own mistakes – rebellion – was one thing. Watching someone else get roughed up for your mistakes… that was a hard one. He could understand most in here kept to their own business.

The familiar evening ritual echoed through the cell block; buzzer, groaning iron, guards stepping past to check the cells, a tense silence for a few minutes that was broken by heavy footsteps and a single cell door opening. The warden was a busy man, Lucas thought bitterly. Apparently, keeping to your own business wasn’t as easy as it seemed. His cell wasn’t close enough to hear pleading, maybe there was just resigned silence, and the footsteps retreated.

A door slammed slut and Lucas turned over, able to sleep now that the ritual was over.

Only it wasn’t.

Just as he was drifting off to sleep, a scream pierced the silence.

Lucas shot right up in bed.

Though muffled and distant, and with him on the brink of sleep, he was certain he hadn’t imagined that and he lay very still, listening intently. He heard it again.

All hairs stood right on end, panic and a sense of immense wrongness seared through him. These weren’t the grunts and occasional scream that went with a beating. This was something else. Something very wrong.

It was desperate. Broken screams forced out, interrupted by something he couldn’t hear. Sobs. Crying, probably. Vowels of pain, interrupted by shorter vowels that indicated a pleading, cut off again by pain. Settling in a sickening rhythm, more broken with each repetition. He didn’t dare think about what in the world was happening there, not wanting to analyse these horrors. All he wanted was to shut it out.

Even the silence that followed was repulsive and did not comfort him in the slightest that it was over.

So as soon as he had scrambled enough petty cash through more hard labour, he immediately went to the prison shop.

“I’m guessing we don’t need to explain anymore?”

Trey stood behind him in line. He flashed a wry smile and nodded at the earbuds Lucas had bought.

Lucas stood aside and merely shook his head. The earbuds plus the dark bags under his eyes showed exactly what had kept him up these last couple of nights. Even when the nights following the incident had been quiet. He waited for Trey to finish his turn and watched in envy as he bought a Twix.

“You’ll want to be careful, though,” Trey warned, slipping the candy bar into his sleeve. “Not wanting to hear is good. But you also won’t hear him approach. He doesn’t care if he wakes people up, so the earbuds do help but… Well, let’s just say that it’s also not good for your blood pressure if you wake up with him already standing next to you.”

Good god, could you imagine… Literally waking up into a nightmare.

“I’ll be careful.”

Continued here

Tag list: @gala1981 @chaotic-orphan @lolrpop @andithewhumper @tippytappytyping

@suspicious-whumping-egg @cherrychupachup @alexmundaythrufriday @defire @withdrawingramen

@light-me-on-pyre @treasureguardingdragon @notactuallyluska @fortunately-cool-penguin

#whump #prison whump #whump writing #forced to listen #implied beatdown #implied torture #implie-- hmm yeah what? :3c #angst #crossed out #my writing #always meant to imply more that Lucas is snarky and pushing it outside office hours #but never really showed it yet so here's some backfiring

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insomniaruler · 7 months ago

Text

I’m thinking A G A I N

(Someone needs to put me down like a lame horse)

Once Eurylochus got to the gates of the underworld and the all consuming gnawing in the pit of his stomach had subsided he sat down on the barren rock the final 40 members of the crew wailing around him, cursing Odysseus, cursing him, cursing the god of storms himself. They had not been buried, each dying in the roaring blast of heat and pain before darkness. No passage would be granted.

But Eurylochus was silent. All he could see was Odysseus, his friend, captain and brother. All he could hear was Odysseus pleading with the gods themselves, they could not need make him choose between himself or his crew. Eurylochus cradled his trembling hands, thinking back to the last conscious moments before hunger had taken his mind and soul.

Ody was right if Eurylochus had been given the chance to see home again, to see the shores of Ithaca, to taste fresh fruit, to hold his dearest Citmene just once more. Eurylochus would have taken it, anything.

The worst part is that he knew in his heart of hearts where only The goddess of love could see he had been the one to ruin their chance of going home only a year after the war when he was enraptured by the little bag Odysseus so guarded.

It was him who lead them too disaster after disaster. What would Odysseus his own sister about Eury’s death? Would he tell her the truth or refuse to answer, maybe tell her he died like a dog? Realistically Eurylochus knew Odysseus would not lie to his sister, he couldn’t. Citmene would see through it, she too was blessed by The goddess of wisdom and a descendant of the God of Trickery. His eyes grew heavy as the ferryman approached for the souls who’d been properly buried.

Looking down he sighed, translucent. Not whole, he’d never be because he was stuck on the other side. Perhaps this would be best, Eury hoped to avoid Polities for as long as possible, the man who’d once been one of his closest friends would not forgive him any time soon. Thus he let his eyes close, maybe he’d be absorbed into his misery.

He slept for a long time tucked against a wall of the seemingly endless chamber, cradled by the cold hard stone he felt he deserved. Eurylochus woke to whispers surrounding him, “you Eurylochus of Ithaca?” “You’re holding up the boat!” “Come on get up” “who paid your fare!?”.

Blinking Eurylochus shook off the deep sleep and started in the direction the fading hands had pointed him too. There on a rickety old dock sat an even older and rickety trireme which was packed to the walls with souls, some he recognized some he had forgotten.

As soon as he stepped into the boat it set off across the acrid Styx river. Approaching a face he recognized nudged him. “Who paid for us?” Eurylochus whispered. “The Captain did. He’s going home.” Then the soul spat “Don’ matter to me, when he gets down here I’ll show him exactly what lightning does to you.” The soul spat.

Once they reached the other side Eurylochus shuffled through the wailing masses towards what he hoped was rest, he really hoped he hadn’t pissed of the sun god enough to land himself in the pits of Tartarus.

Shuffling through lines of souls Eurylochus muttered a whispered prayer. It was all a blur but somehow Eurylochus avoided the pits and now he was walking through a marble, gold and gemstone lined cavern. Was this..? Elysisum? Someone was going to come to him and banish him to the nothingness.

As he walked he his mind flickered with images of the living world. Carefully he wandered, feeling out of place in this hall of heroes. suddenly the world flipped around and standing above him was a furious Polities, somehow he’d ended up on the floor staring up at the glimmering ceiling.

Then Eurylochus was pinned, a firm fist planted right into his eye. “How DARE you! How dare you.” Polities shouted yanking Eurylochus up by his shirt front. “Polities I-“ Eurylochus whispered as he was getting dragged to a small brazier holding a small fire. For a second he was worried Polities was about to throw him in it. But then he was in a heap on the ground in front of the flame.

In it he saw Odysseus, handing two large bags of coins to a ghostly figure. “He’s paying your passage, to Hermes. All of you. You- you traitors.” Polities whispered, fuming. “I’m sorry-“ Eury whispered. “I don’t need apologies, I knew you as a brother in arms, I’ve fought with you since childhood. Just like Odysseus. You’re a traitor to our oath.” Polities said, his glasses were whole again, Eurylochus had stowed Polities’ shattered wire frames in his breast sachet.

“Is- is Citmene okay?” This had been the one thought plaguing him since he crossed the Styx. “She’s fine, she won’t be when she finds out her husband was killed by The king of the gods himself.” Polities spat, he let Eurylochus up and eventually they found themselves watching as Odysseus smiled for the first time in years as he saw his home on the horizon.

“He’s doing it. He’s made it home.” Polities whispered in awe. “But what of the palace something is wrong.” Eurylochus muttered slipping into his old roll with ease. “Shh Let me bask for a little bit Eury.” Polities shushed him.

Thus they watched their Brother go home. Too where they could never return. Eurylochus saw Citmene sitting near a pillar looking out at the sea, she kissed her ring. Polities had to stop him from leaning so far he’d fall into the fire. “Oh Argos.” Polities muttered as the faithful companion went still. Eurylochus cried when Citimene sobbed openly over his armour, saved from wreckage after wreckage by Odysseus.

#epic the musical #eurylochus #Citmene #odysseus #polities

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vickiee-mcmuffin · 2 years ago

Text

It's always been you

Word count: 3.8k

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Female Reader

Trope: Explicit Smut, Age gap (18+ Warning, Minors DNI)

A/N: Here's one of my old fics which is one of my favs. I've added some extra bits to the smut, so enjoy ;)

Summary: You're in a relationship with a guy called Luke after you were too scared to tell Stephen how you really felt about him. But one thing leads to another when you go to the Sanctum to see Stephen after an argument with Luke.

When you first arrived at Kamar Taj almost a year ago, it was Doctor Stephen Strange that you first met out of everyone. He was one of the masters there, after all, and despite that – you had fallen for him. Sometimes it felt like more than a crush, though, especially since you and Stephen grew closer and closer as time went by. You always assumed your crush would lead nowhere and you’d get over him, because there were days when you thought nothing would happen with you and Stephen. He was older than you; you were a good twenty years younger than him. Eventually, you decided to just date a guy who seemed a bit more attainable. That was when you met Luke. He was around your age, and you hoped that being with him would diminish the crush you had on Stephen – even though you were going to stay best friends with him.

But it didn’t take you long to realise that Luke wasn’t the man for you. He wasn’t always the best boyfriend. He seemed to only care about himself and his own pleasure, and it quickly got to you. There were days when it seemed like Stephen would listen to you more than your own boyfriend would. And whenever you told Stephen about your problems with Luke, he would always be so kind and caring.

And it was then that you realised that you loved Stephen. But fear got the best of you, and you weren’t ready to tell him the truth. You were convinced he didn’t even feel the same way back, anyway. Part of you was also scared to tell Luke that you wanted to end things. What if he freaked out and got angry?

You were officially stuck between a rock and a hard place.

******

It was early one evening and you found yourself laying on Luke’s bed. He wouldn’t even look at you, though. His eyes were stuck on his phone. As usual, he was paying no attention to you. But you were over it. If you were going to be with him, he would have to start acting like an actual boyfriend.

“Can you please just put your phone down and come cuddle with me?” you asked with a little pout.

But Luke said nothing. Whatever was on his phone seemed much more important.

“Luke,” you tried again. “Please just come cuddle with me.”

Luke grunted and rolled his eyes. “I heard you the first time, Y/N. I’m busy right now.”

“You barely ever give me any attention,” you said quietly. “It makes me upset. You’re always on your phone, talking to other people, when I’m right there.”

“Well, you’re always talking to Stephen,” snapped Luke.

“Uh, yeah. I talk to him because he actually listens to me.”

Luke chuckled. “I do listen to you.”

“When’s my birthday?” you suddenly asked him. It was a test. If he really, truly cared for you, then he would know that fact.

Luke shrugged. “July 9th.”

You shook your head, trying not to glare at him. “It’s June 9th. See. You don’t listen!”

And he didn’t even seem concerned with that as he tapped away on his phone. It hurt. It really did. And you found yourself with tears welling up in your eyes. You decided right then and there that you were going to talk to the person who actually listened to you. And that was Stephen.

You got off the bed in a huff, determined to get away from Luke. You stormed over to the door, yanking it open in a hurry.

“Where are you going?” Luke called out.

“It doesn’t matter,” you told him bluntly.

“I bet you’re going to him. At the Sanctum.” Luke’s voice was laced with an accusatory tone.

You didn’t answer. You just slammed the door shut, not caring that you were in your pyjamas. If Luke was going to treat you like that, then you were going to put some distance between the both of you. In a rush, you opened up a portal that would take you right to where Stephen would be. The New York Sanctum. You closed the portal behind you when you arrived and took quiet steps to Stephen’s room. Was he still awake? It was late. You hoped he was up.

When you got to his door you saw a small stream of light shining through. That was a good sign. You knocked on the door and heard some noise from behind it.

“Who’s there?” Stephen asked loudly.

“It’s me,” you responded.

“Come in!”

You pushed the door open, finding Stephen there in his robe and a thick book on his lap.

“Hey,” Stephen greeted you.

“Hi. Am I disturbing you?” you asked. That was the last thing you wanted to do.

“Not at all. What’s wrong?”

You sighed at the question. “Can I come and sit with you in the bed and tell you?”

“Of course.” Stephen pulled his blanket back, offering you a spot to sit.

You joined him on the comfortable bed, taking in the situation. You and Luke had just had a pretty nasty fight. And you hated the way he made you feel. You said nothing for a while, and neither did Stephen, until he finally broke the silence.

“What happened?” he asked.

You turned to look at him, noticing the worry on his face. You sucked in a sharp breath before starting your story. “Me and Luke just had a little argument.”

“Why?”

“I’ve just noticed that Luke doesn’t really pay attention to me. He wants to spend more time on his phone than he does with me.” As you said that, you could see Stephen shaking his head. “And earlier, I asked Luke if we could just cuddle. But all he did was ignore me.” The words got to you as you remembered the argument. Tears formed in your eyes yet again, your voice turning all soft.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” Stephen said quickly. He pulled you to him, letting you rest your head on his chest as he hugged you tight.

You pulled back a little to wipe at your eyes. “I’ve noticed during our whole relationship that he doesn’t really listen to me. He doesn’t show me that he cares about me.”

“I’ve noticed that too.”

Your eyes widened a little. “Really?”

Stephen nodded at you. “I’ve noticed how Luke upsets you. But I kept my mouth shut. I didn’t want to make you anymore upset. And I didn’t want to lose my best friend. I care about you, Y/N. So much. I love you. I love every part of you.”

Your head snapped to the side as you looked at Stephen, completely taken aback by what he had just said. Did he just…?

“What?” you asked with a whisper.

“Oh, shit,” he muttered, his eyes shutting for a second. He turned away from you, suddenly looking embarrassed.

“Stephen,” you called out to him.

He turned back around. Slowly. And there you saw his bright red cheeks.

“Is that true?” you wondered. “Did you really mean that?”

Stephen sighed loudly. “Yes. It’s true. And I’ve loved you ever since we first met. It broke my heart so much when I found out that you were with Luke. I kept my mouth shut because I just wanted to be happy for you. And I knew nothing could really happen between us, anyway. Because of our age gap…”

For a long time, you and Stephen just looked at each other. You were in the middle of taking in every word he just told you. His confession. But then you couldn’t help it when you sent him a teary-eyed smile. Reaching forward, you cupped his face with your hands. He smiled at you. A sweet, bright smile.

“I love you too. And I always have,” you whispered.

“Really?”

You nodded and leaned over to him, giving him a soft kiss. And then he kissed you back. And it was slow and moving and so, so perfect. But Stephen suddenly pulled away.

“What about Luke?” he asked you.

“Stephen, I’ve given Luke many opportunities. I’m done being treated second best,” you said confidently. You gave Stephen another kiss before eyeing him closely. “I’ve always loved you, Stephen. I’m sorry I was just too much of a coward to admit it.”

Stephen laughed lowly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Well, that makes two of us then.”

You giggled right back at him before Stephen kissed you. It quickly grew heated, your tongue diving into Stephen’s mouth. His hands lowered and held your hips tight, pulling you right into his lap. Your lips broke apart for a split second, but Stephen wasted no time as he quickly pulled you back into a kiss.

Your arms quickly wrapped around his broad back, with Stephen mimicking the action as he held you nice and tight. Tongues dancing together, you suddenly felt something hard pressing into you. You had to pull away from Stephen when you realised what it was. You gasped, watching as Stephen blushed all over again.

But you didn’t care. You kissed him fast and hard and noticed just how quickly Stephen kissed you back. Rocking your hips against his, you heard Stephen groan for you. The noise literally had you going weak right there in his arms, your centre growing wetter and wetter.

You kept kissing and rocking your hips, loving the sounds Stephen kept making. Those deep, guttural groans. But you pulled away from him so you could whisper out a request.

“Please make love to me,” you told him.

“Are you sure?” he asked with big eyes.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.” You meant every word.

Stephen kissed you softly before moving away from your mouth. “Okay.”

He shifted a little so that you were laying on the bed, while Stephen hovered above you. You shared another kiss before Stephen reached down, pulling off your top and exposing your breasts. He threw the top to the floor before he stared down at your breasts, taking them in. He stared at you, at your hard nipples. And then he blushed some more. You found it so adorable.

“You look so beautiful,” he said with a whisper. Then he leaned down, his warm lips kissing your skin. His lips ghosted over your nipples as he paid attention to each breast. Then he sucked one of your breasts into his mouth, moaning as a big hand grasped the other one.

The feeling had you whining. You reached down, raking a hand through Stephen’s thick locks. Your back arched for him, letting pleasure take over. You felt so wet. And it was all for Stephen. He stayed there, licking and sucking at your breast, before reaching down to pull down your pyjama bottoms and panties. They both hit the floor, and then you were completely and utterly exposed for Stephen. Every part of you was on show.

“Fuck,” Stephen hissed as he stared at you. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N.”

He moved down, kissing you hard and fast. Your tongues moved together wildly, but you had to see Stephen. You had to see him properly.

“I wanna see you too,” you said with a whine. “Please.”

“Alright, sweetheart.” He nodded. He got off the bed to stand up, slowly pulling off his robe, exposing his cock.

You literally gasped at what you were seeing. He was so hard. And so, so big. Thick too. You couldn’t wait to feel him deep inside of you.

Stephen got back on the bed and you wasted no time spreading your legs for him. Stephen then got settled in between your legs as he hovered above you. He kissed you softly, and while his mouth was so perfect, you needed him to take you already.

“Please fuck me,” you pleaded with him.

“Okay,” Stephen groaned. “But I’m gonna start off slow. I don’t want to hurt you.”

You smiled at how sweet and caring he was being. “Okay.”

Stephen gave you a soft kiss before grabbing his cock. He ran the tip up and down your wet slit a few times. The swollen tip of his cock was soon covered in your arousal. You let out a sharp moan when you felt Stephen press the head of his cock against your clit. It felt so good.

“Are you ready?” He asked, voice deep.

You nodded eagerly at him. Stephen watched you closely as he pressed the tip of his cock to your entrance, and then he slid right into you with absolute ease. You moaned in unison, and then Stephen buried his face in your neck as he pushed more of his cock into you. You quickly wrapped your arms around him, wanting to feel him close. You could hear Stephen groaning into your ear when he filled you up, right to the hilt as he bottomed out. The noise had you clenching around him.

“Fuck,” Stephen moaned out.

“Are you okay?” you quickly asked.

Stephen moved so that he could stare down at you. His cheeks were so red. “Yes. You just feel so good wrapped around my cock.”

You gave him a quick kiss. “Please move. Please.”

Stephen’s eyes were stuck on you as he began to move his cock. He was moving slowly, but the pleasure was still there and had you letting out little moans. You dragged your nails across his skin, digging into him. But you had to have more.

“Please move faster,” you begged. “Please.”

Stephen did. He thrusted into you that little bit faster and harder, and you couldn’t help it when you let out a long moan. The sound filled the room right up. You couldn’t believe how good he was making you feel. The pleasure was so new to you, and you had no idea that sex could feel so good.

Stephen kept moving in and out of you, his cock stretching you out. He was moving fast and hard and it was exactly what you needed.

“Oh, please don’t stop!” you let out.

“I’m not gonna stop.” He leaned down, giving you a rushed kiss that you eagerly returned. Stephen placed his hands on either side of your head and suddenly began to just pound into you wildly.

“Stephen!” you whined out. “Mm, fuck me just like that!”

Your shaky hands reached down as you grabbed at the blankets, pulling at them as Stephen took you hard and fast and so, so deep. Your knuckles literally turned white as you grabbed at the blankets, getting lost in the pure pleasure that Stephen was giving you. The sound of skin hitting skin filled the room and you loved every second of it.

Stephen suddenly pushed his cock into you nice and deep. The swollen tip of his cock was pressing up against that sweet, sensitive spot – a spot no one had ever reached before.

“Mm, your cock feels so good,” you cried out.

“Fuck.” Stephen suddenly lowered his body, pressing up against you tightly.

You kissed each other hard and fast; all the while Stephen kept hitting that spot again and again. You circled your arms around his back and let out a long moan when you realised that your orgasm was quickly forming. It was something you had never felt before. You needed it so bad.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you whined out. Stephen was fucking you so good. He knew exactly how to touch you. Exactly how to make you feel good, and you knew you were going to meet your orgasm any second now.

That seemed to trigger something in Stephen, because he began to pound into you wildly from above. You kept crying out, letting Stephen know just how good he was making you feel. Your back arched as that wild feeling grew more and more. You kept moaning, unable to believe how good you were feeling – and how it was Stephen of all people who was making you feel so good. And then the feeling hit you. Your orgasm. It hit you hard and fast and you lost it right there on Stephen’s cock.

“Oh, Stephen!” you moaned out, letting your orgasm take over your body. It felt so good. You were growing wetter and wetter by the second, letting Stephen pound right into you.

Stephen fucked you right through your orgasm. He was dragging out the pure pleasure, allowing you to feel every second of it. He groaned deeply, and you had a feeling it was because your pussy was clenching right around Stephen, pulling him deeper and deeper into you.

He kept pounding into you and you suddenly felt something else growing. Another orgasm. But it felt so much stronger than the one you just had. It was building up, second by second, the heat just growing the more Stephen fucked you. And he was fucking you so good, so hard. He seemed to be entirely focused on your pleasure alone, his cock stretching you out and filling you up at just the right angle yet again.

“Stephen, please keep moving,” you whined as he kept on thrusting his cock into you. “Oh, fuck. I think I’m going to…”

"Just let go, sweetheart," Stephen told you.

After those words left his mouth, you felt yourself coming undone. You couldn’t say anything. All you did was scream loudly as you came a second time, the feeling driving you wild. You were gushing right around Stephen’s length, making you feel so wet between your thighs. It was something you had never felt before, and you kept feeling yourself getting wetter the more Stephen fucked you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head and you saw white, your ears ringing. All you could feel was complete and total pleasure as you felt your body shaking. Stephen was dragging out that wonderful feeling with his cock, like he wanted to make sure that your orgasm was lasting as long as possible.

You whined and cried out, eyes shut tight as your strong orgasm hit you. You still didn’t say anything and instead just let out sounds of pleasure, your breathing unsteady as Stephen fucked you good and hard.

Eventually, the wonderful feeling faded, and you found yourself letting out soft whines as Stephen kept moving in and out of you, his cock twitching inside of you.

“I’m gonna cum,” he muttered out.

“Mm, you can cum inside of me,” you whispered, wanting to feel him lose himself inside of you. “I’m on the pill. Please cum inside of me. Please.” You needed it. You had to have Stephen – every part of him.

It seemed as if that was all Stephen needed to hear, because a second later, he was giving you a few more deep thrusts before letting out the deepest of groans. And then he came. He came right there inside of you, filling you up. He lost all control, giving you every drop of cum he had to offer.

He was panting wildly as he pushed in and out of you. Soon his breathing settled and he laid down next to you on the bed. You were in the middle of catching your breath too. You were still trying to process what just happened with you and Stephen.

Stephen seemed to get his breathing back on track and got up. He put his robe on and then headed off into another room. He came back with a washcloth in hand. You laid there, body still shaking a little, as Stephen cleaned you up gingerly.

"Did you know you squirted?" Stephen asked you as he cleaned up your sensitive area gently.

You stared at him for a long moment before you shook your head. That must have been what you were experiencing earlier when you felt so wet between your thighs.

"No, no man has ever made me do that before... Until you of course," you told Stephen and he sent you a smile before winking at you. He then stood up and made his way back over to the other room to put the washcloth back.

After he returned from putting the washcloth back, he climbed back into bed with you and covered you with the warm blankets.

“Are you okay?” he asked lowly.

“I’m okay.” You nodded at him. You moved over to Stephen, laying down on his broad chest as he wrapped an arm around you. It felt so good to have him cuddle you, to have him hold you close.

It was quiet for a while. And you figured that Stephen just wanted to get some sleep, but then he broke the silence.

“So, when do you plan on telling Luke that your relationship is over?” he asked.

It was a good question. Shifting slightly, you looked up at Stephen. “I’ll probably tell him tomorrow, I guess. If he listens to me, that is. He barely even listens to me when I’m talking. He probably won’t even listen to me when I finally break up with him.”

“Does Luke listen to you about anything?” Stephen asked with a furrowed brow. He looked offended on your behalf.

You shook your head at him. “I don’t think so. He doesn’t even know when my birthday is. And he doesn’t know the stuff I like, or the stuff I don’t like.”

Stephen’s eyes widened. “How could he not remember that your birthday is the 9th of June? Or that your favourite flowers are roses? Or that you hate spicy food?” There was such disbelief in Stephen’s voice, like he couldn’t even process the fact that Luke didn’t know those things about you.

You looked at Stephen for what felt like an hour. You were in total shock. How was it that your boyfriend didn’t know any of that stuff, but Stephen did? Stephen knew you better than your boyfriend did. Better than anyone else, it seemed.

“How… How do you know all of that?” you finally let out, your voice a bit shaky. Your mind was still a little hazy from your love making session.

Stephen just smiled at you. “I actually listen to everything you tell me.”

You returned his smile. It was big and bright, and that was because you were experiencing full, pure joy. You kissed Stephen softly and slowly, loving the way he gently kissed you back. You were right where you belonged. Right there with the man who actually knew you. You were so lucky that the two of you had found each other – even with the Luke hurdle that had been thrown your way. But he could be dealt with later.

“I love you, Stephen Strange,” you said with a whisper.

“I love you too, Y/N,” he said, his voice laced with what you could only describe as pure love. You and Stephen laid there together, wrapped up in each other’s arms. Your eyes fluttered shut as pure exhaustion took over. But you were truly over the moon that it was Stephen that you were with. Because he was the one who listened to you. He was the one who cared for you. And he was the one who loved you.

And you loved him just as much.

Tag list: @butchers-girl @azu21 @polytheatrix @lucimorningst4r @evelyn-kingsley @withalittlehoney @mirikusashes @bobateadaydreams @strangelockd @thealleydog @cemak @stewardofningishzida @smokeywhalee @floatingfireflies @iamsherlocked1479 @icytrickster17 @asherloki @alice-bcmf @aphroditesdilemma @strangesthirdeye @rmoonstoner @stephenswh0re

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starkwlkr · 2 years ago

Note

Hiiii!! i really like your works and wanted to ask if it’s possible to do something with Marco Bezzecchi and motogp or formula1 driver reader?

stressed bride | marco bezzecchi

note: i am not accepting anymore requests!

It seemed like they never could get any time alone, but Marco and Y/n made it work. They had different schedules with Y/n being in F1 and Marco being in MotoGP. At one point the couple even considered breaking up, but Marco didn’t want to lose her. During the MotoGP break, Marco and Y/n spent their limited days in Mallorca. Their last day together before Y/n had to leave for her next race ended up being the day Marco proposed.

And of course she said yes.

When she returned to the paddock, Y/n proudly wore her engagement ring. Fans knew she was in a relationship with Marco so they were happy and excited for the couple.

“Woah! That’s a huge rock you got there.” Daniel was the first one to notice the shiny ring on her finger.

“Wait . . Oh my god! You’re getting married! Congratulations!” Lando realized and hugged the woman.

“Thank you.” Y/n laughed.

“I expect my invite soon. I need to get fit for my tux.” Daniel jokingly said.

“I’m hoping we even have time to send invitations out. I don’t even know when we are going to see each other again.” Y/n sighed. She really wanted that dream wedding that every little girl dreamed of, but there was that possibility that it wouldn’t happen because of scheduling.

It was like the gods were on Y/n’s side or something. In between races, she found herself staying up late searching up venues, booking appointments for wedding dresses. When the F1 summer break started, she traveled to Marco’s next race and showed him her wedding progress.

“Have you gotten any sleep?” Marco noticed the tired look on her face.

“I slept on the flight. I need your opinion on the color scheme.” Y/n showed him several color schemes on her phone.

Marco grabbed her phone and put it in his back pocket. “I want you to stay here and get some rest. You need it.”

“But I don’t want to miss your race.” Y/n replied.

“There’s plenty of races left. Nothing is going to happen if you miss one race.” Marco placed a kiss on her lips.

“But—”

“I know how hard you’re working on our wedding and I appreciate it. I know we don’t get a lot of time together. But i also know that you need sleep and staying up looking at wedding books is keeping you from that. We can get married next year or the year after that or in five years. Shit, I think I would even marry you after the race if you let me. We don’t have to rush this.” Marco said.

“What if we break up before we say I do?”

There was also THAT possibility. But Marco would never break up with her and she would never break up with Marco. They were stuck with each.

“Promise me you won’t go down to the garage to watch the race?”

“I promise. But when you come back, you and I are going to find out where we want to have our honeymoon.”

“Deal.”

Netflix, Drive To Survive

“I’m Y/n L/n and i race for (whichever team you want)” Y/n introduced herself to the camera.

“Welcome back. Is there anything different?”

Y/n knew what the Netflix team was referring to. She raised her left hand and showed the camera the ring Marco had given her.

“I’m married!”

Before the year ended, Y/n and Marco finally got their chance to say i do. Netflix only had permission to film the wedding planning part, but it resulted in the fans getting more Marco and Y/n content.

“Congratulations! Are you changing your last name?”

“That takes a lot of paperwork. I barely survived planning my own wedding and racing. He knows I love him, but I’m just Y/n L/n right now. Maybe in like two years I’ll finally change my last name.” Y/n said.

Marco was fine with her not changing her last name. At least Y/n finally got her dream wedding.

#inbox <3 #anon #motogp imagine #motogp x reader #motogp fanfic #marco bezzecchi imagine #marco bezzecchi x reader #marco bezzecchi #f1 driver!reader

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of-pale · 11 months ago

Text

You let me know, everything's alright

The twins were stuck between a rock and a hard place, battered like fish n’ chips. They struggled to stand, recuperating in a brief moment of peace in the bloodstained field. Not a true peace, as the tension for another inevitable battle charged the air.

“Hey, bro.”

“Yeah?”

“Remember that cheesy song Dad used to sing to Mom? The one with all the funny chanting bits?”

“Why…?”

“I can't stop this feeling~”

“Really?”

“Deep inside of me~”

“Is this.. really the best time?”

“Girl, you just don't realise, what you do to me~”

“...”

“Aw, come on, Verge. You know the words. Just entertain me for a second, it’s not like we’ve got an audience right now.”

“I don’t…”

Vergil hesitated for a moment. This was beyond foolish; why bring up some pointless song at a time like this? They should be planning for the next attack, they should be looking over their injuries, they should be—Damn it all.

“When you hold me…” Vergil struggled to sing the line as his lungs didn't feel up to the task, but Dante waved in encouragement to keep going. “...in your arms so tight.”

With a wince, Dante threw an arm over Vergil's shoulder and cheekily pulled him closer. Vergil didn't want to waste energy fighting it, but if he was honest with himself, he didn't want to fight it. It was… “You let me know, everything’s alright~” Vergil finished the verse.

Dante grinned at him, satisfied to have lifted their spirits, continuing, “And I’m~” He finger-gunned towards Vergil with his free hand, making him scoff. Still, Vergil played along, finishing the line.

“Hooked on a feeling~”

Dante turned his finger gun towards the horizon where more demons had gathered and were clearly heading their way.

“I'm high on believing~” the twins sang together, standing up straight in preparation for the inbound battle.

#dmc #devil may cry #good bro Dante lifting the spirits #convincing Vergil to roll with it deserves a medal #why couldn't they continue on with the song even when the demons show up?#lofi beats to stu- *cough*#old pop song karaoke to slay demons to #Sparda was intrigued by all the chanting bits in the song but ended up enjoying the lyrics too #Eva has heard some things #Sparda's swordsmanship is legendary but his singing?#might be legendary for a different reason #guy's still a demon at the end of the day #'Blue Swede - Hooked on a Feeling'#no sadly I've not seen 'Guardians of the Galaxy' but the soundtrack for the movie seems great

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hummingbird24220 · 29 days ago

Text

Chapter Forty-Nine: The Storm Breaks

Night fell fast. Clouds swallowed the sky in thick layers, and the moon disappeared behind a curtain of gray. The first heavy drops of rain landed like warning taps against the deck, and within moments, the storm that had loomed all day finally arrived.

The Sunny groaned under the weight of it—sails flapping violently, ropes whipping in the wind, waves beginning to crest and slam against the hull.

But no one panicked.

The crew moved like clockwork, calling out over the wind, boots thudding on soaked wood, hands gripping rails and rope.

You wiped water from your eyes, your jacket already soaked through, as you braced yourself near the mast.

“Secure the left rigging!” Nami called from the upper deck, hair plastered to her skin but eyes sharp and shining with confidence.

Zoro darted past you, anchoring a loose rope with brute force, water trailing from his soaked bandana. He didn’t stop. He didn’t need to. You were already right behind him, grabbing another line and pulling with everything you had.

Sanji was a blur, leaping between the galley and main deck, barking out directions while hauling supplies in and out with practiced ease.

Every time he passed you, he made sure to glance your way. You didn’t miss it.

You gritted your teeth as another wave slammed into the side of the ship, drenching you like a bucket to the face. You held steady. You always did.

At the helm, Luffy had the biggest smile on his face, shouting joyfully as the ship rocked and pitched. He wasn’t reckless—he trusted Nami. He trusted you all.

And that trust was well-placed. Because no matter how hard the storm hit, the Sunny had her crew.

You helped Chopper tie down scattered crates as water pooled at your ankles. Usopp slipped once, and you caught him by the back of his shirt without a word.

Zoro nodded once when you passed him a rope. Sanji wordlessly shoved a towel at your chest when you paused near the galley door—it was warm. You had no idea how he managed that.

The storm howled.

Then, like a switch being flipped— Silence.

The wind cut. The rain stopped. The sea stilled.

You stood panting, soaked and shaking, hands on your knees, surrounded by your crew—all equally exhausted but very much alive and together.

“Halfway through,” Nami said, pushing wet hair from her eyes, voice steady.

“We’ll ride the rest by morning,” Robin added, brushing water from the pages of a now-closed book.

Zoro sheathed his swords. Sanji lit a cigarette with shaking fingers and muttered, “This crew is going to give me a stroke.”

You flopped to the deck, arms spread wide. “But you love us.”

He exhaled, smoke curling through the still air. “...Yeah. I do.”

Zoro sat beside you, arms draped over his knees. “Storms like that don’t scare me anymore.”

You tilted your head to look at him. “Because we’ve survived worse?”

“Because I know who I’ve got with me now.”

You smiled. Sanji sat on your other side, flicking water from his bangs. “You better not cry, (Y/N). I’ll never let you live it down.”

You wiped your eyes dramatically. “I’m crying because the ocean’s spicy, Sanji.”

The three of you sat there, drenched, bruised, soaked to the bone— But together.

Super best friends. Brochachos. Rough crew. Unshakable.

And beyond the horizon, the second half of the storm waited— but so did the sunrise.

Laundry day on the Sunny was always an unpredictable affair.

Luffy never remembered what was his. Zoro never changed unless forced. Sanji ironed everything he owned and everyone else’s too. And you?

Well, you usually stuck to your usual gear—pants, boots, tank tops, beat-up jackets—something durable and “don’t-mess-with-me” coded. But today?

Everything you owned was soaked or drying on the clothesline, thanks to the storm. Which left you with… Options that weren’t really options.

And so—against your better judgment—you emerged from below deck wearing a flowy, off-shoulder linen blouse that clung to your frame, paired with a light skirt that fluttered around your legs like it had no business being this soft.

It was Nami’s. It smelled like her perfume and sunshine. It also made you feel insanely visible.

“Okay,” you muttered, stepping onto the deck. “Get your teasing over with now. I’m fragile.”

Immediate Silence

Zoro looked up from where he was cleaning his swords. Sanji paused mid-pour with a kettle. Usopp blinked. Luffy gasped like you had just performed magic.

The only sound was a soft clink as Robin set her book down without saying a word. Nami, walking by casually, sipped her drink and smirked. “Told you it’d suit you.”

You opened your arms dramatically. “I feel like a picnic. A picnic with knees.”

Sanji straightened slowly, eyes wide, cigarette nearly falling from his mouth. “Mon dieu.”

“Sanji, I swear to god—”

“You’re… radiant.” He sounded breathless.

Zoro raised an eyebrow, his eye trailing over you from head to toe. You noticed. “Something on your mind, mosshead?”

He blinked slowly. “Didn’t think you had clothes like that.”

“I don’t. They’re Nami’s.”

“She’s never getting them back,” Sanji whispered.

Nami raised her hand casually. “That was always the plan.”

Luffy bounced over. “You look weird. Like a different person! A princess version of (Y/N)!”

“I am a princess,” you said, flipping the hem of your skirt like a dramatic theater kid. “The kind who stabs people for stepping on her toes.”

Chopper blinked up at you. “You smell good today!”

“I smell like clean laundry and stress.”

Usopp leaned in. “Wait, you have shoulders?” You smacked him with a dish towel.

You made your way to the table, plate in hand, ignoring the awkward stares and the way Sanji had stopped breathing entirely. You were about to sit when Zoro muttered just loud enough to hear, “You walk different in that.”

You paused mid-step. Glared. “…Don’t say stuff like that unless you want me to trip over this skirt and drag you down with me.”

Zoro shrugged. “Just an observation.” But he didn’t look away.

Sanji sat down across from you, still blinking like he’d seen a ghost. “You’re really leaning into the ‘heartbreaker’ thing today, huh?”

You sipped your drink and smirked. “I have a sword and skirt now. You should be terrified.”

“I am,” Sanji muttered. “I’m conflicted,” Zoro added.

You leaned back with a smug little grin, propping your feet up beside your plate (but in a ladylike way)

“Y’all better enjoy it while it lasts. Tomorrow, I go back to punching through walls and threatening to eat sea kings raw.”

Sanji clutched his chest like he was dying. Zoro covered his mouth to hide a smile.

And Nami, walking by with a towel, said, “Next time, try the sundress.”

You narrowed your eyes. “…There’s a sundress?”

“Mmhm,” Robin said from behind her book. “Bright yellow. With little sunflowers on it.”

You groaned. “This crew is going to kill me with kindness and fashion.”

Sanji placed a napkin in your lap. “Then you’ll die beautifully.”

Zoro muttered, “And dramatically.”

You flipped your braid over your shoulder like royalty. “Exactly as intended.”

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