#Men in Engine briefs

[athletictaipan]

[ryansultimatefitness]

[athleticcollection]

[alg3a]

auspicious (pt. 1)

jayce x f!reader x viktor / jayvik x f!reader

4k, sfw for now, no use of y/n

description: Viktor and Jayce’s new lab assistant is the hottest topic at a council gala. After defending herself all night, an accidental confession leads to tension in the workplace.

warnings: suggestive content, brief and light misogyny (don’t worry), manipulative reader, lab assistant dynamic, basically the last third is foreplay.

a/n: This is my first ever tumblr fic! If you guys would like, i will add an nsfw second part.

Update: second part added!

Say what you will about Councilor Salo, but his galas never disappointed. There must have been three hundred of the city’s most influential people scattered about the grand ballroom, which stretched further than you could see with your naked eye. It was the first you’d ever seen of these exquisite parties, and you silently hoped that it wouldn’t be the last.

You’d been the lab assistant of the two Hextech partners for around three months now. With the public eye being enthralled with the activities of the two intelligent scientists, it wasn’t long before the spectacle included you, their pretty new lab assistant. You were in your final year in the academy’s undergraduate program and had been a promising enough engineering student to be hired by Viktor and Jayce. Your name was a prevalent one in every inventor’s competition and innovator’s fair, so naturally they had heard of you before your interview. From what you heard, there were nearly fifty other applicants (mostly girls) and yet they hired you on the spot. Naturally, once this story aired, the press was obsessed with you. Piltover Gazette did an entire piece on you about a month into your employment.

With all the attention, Jayce thought it might be a good idea for you to tag along at galas and parties as the plus-one of both men. They never brought dates, so the position was always wide open. Although, Jayce did usually leave with a plus-one.

You wore a deep red sleek gown with a plunging neckline and an absent back. The men matched their ties to your dress, but the rest of their outfits were mostly black and ivory. It wasn’t long before you were whisked away to the dancefloor by influential older men, who talked your ear off about how lucky you must find yourself to be shadowing two promising young inventors. You cringed each time you heard it. You were certainly lucky to have landed the position, but the way they phrased it made it seem like you were some teenage girl who was asked to the school dance by the two cutest boys in school. It wasn’t as trivial as that. Each day, you worked tirelessly alongside their genius minds to find solutions to real world problems using Hextech. You and Viktor spent countless nights asleep on opposite ends of the worn lab couch so that you could continue working at any hour.

Eventually, you grew tired of the misogyny from older male benefactors. You’d done enough socializing for the night, now it was time to patronize the open bar.

You found a spot between a woman in a gold dress and a man in a white tuxedo and asked the bartender politely for a whiskey sour. Once you finished speaking, the man in the white tuxedo turned to you.

“I recognize you,” he said, the scent of his aftershave mixing with the alcohol on his breath. “You’re the Hextech girl, aren’t you? I read your article in the Gazette.”

You sighed as the bartender handed you your drink, pressing a polite smile to your lips with the exhale. “Yes, that’s me. It’s a pleasure.” You hold out your hand and he brings it to his lips with a kiss longer than you would have liked.

“The pleasure is all mine, dear,” he said, setting his glass down. “You know, it’s very uncommon for an undergraduate girl to land such an auspicious spot amongst lead researchers at the academy.”

Here we go again. In the time it takes for him to finish the same spiel you’d heard all night, you finish your drink in one continuous sip. You punctuate the end of his sentence by putting your glass down roughly on the counter.

“Yes, I’m incredibly lucky,” you say, your polite smile turning vaguely murderous. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jayce and Viktor approaching the bar.

“Enough prattle from me,” the man says and holds out his pasty hand once more. “I think it’s time for a dance.”

“Are we interrupting?” Jayce asks, his usual charming smile adorning his chiseled face.

“Not at all!” The man in white says, jovially. No doubt feeling blessed to speak to the men whose egos he spent the last five minutes stroking.

“In fact you came at the perfect time,” you say, smushing yourself between Jayce and Viktor, and wrapping your arms around their arms, emboldened by the alcohol and desperate for a way out of this conversation. “We were just discussing how positively fortunate I am to be working for two accomplished, ambitious, handsome young inventors.”

Viktor furrows his eyebrows at you, then looks back up at Jayce. “Is that so?” He asks, suspicion dancing in his eyes.

“Yes,” you nod emphatically, then bring your attention back to the man in white. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry I’ll have to decline your offer to dance. But I’m sure you understand. When a young woman like myself is called upon by men so far above my humble station, I simply must recognize how—what was the word you used earlier—how auspicious my position is.”

The man seems lost in your rambling, but you notice Jayce and Viktor smiling at one another and avoiding the man’s gaze.

“Ehem, well alright,” the man says, finally. “You three have a pleasant night.”

“Thank you,” Jayce says, his smile becoming a smirk. “We will.”

Jayce places his hand on your lower back and guides you away as Viktor follows, now placing his weight on his cane.

“Are we missing something?” Viktor asks.

“We came to check up on you,” Jayce said. “That guy at the bar was eyeing you like you were his next cocktail.”

“Gross,” you shudder at the thought. Jayce’s hand rubs the exposed skin of your lower back gently. Your eyes dart toward the ground at the sudden awareness of the intimacy of the touch. You shrug off the chill heading up your spine. “Please, never invite me to one of these again. I’ve heard enough old men insinuating that I’m the lab’s little piece of ass.”

“They’re saying that?” Viktor said sharply, stopping in his path as he turned to face you, his hand on your shoulder.

“Well, not exactly that, but practically every conversation is monopolized by my male counterpart lecturing me on what a privilege it is to spend my days ogling at you two.”

Jayce snickers a bit, but Viktor shoots him a stern look.

“That’s highly inappropriate. I’m terribly sorry you experienced such a blatant display of the antiquated beliefs these upper houses hold.” Viktor shakes his head as if he is shaking off the experience like a dog drying off.

“Vik and I were just talking about leaving, anyway,” Jayce says, his hand resuming its ministrations on your back. “We can call a car and go, just say the word.”

You look around the room and remember the reason you’re here in the first place. Galas are the primary way for the two inventors at either side of you to network and receive funding for their projects. Jayce abhorred the politics and the whole reason exhausted, introverted Viktor even bears the social tedium of these parties when he’d rather be slaving away in the lab is because he knows none of their ventures can be broadened without doing the dance. In a singular moment you realize that if they can stomach the routine dreariness of the social game that these parties provide, so can you. You are their prized assistant after all.

“It's okay,” you shake your head. “It’s really not that bad.”

“Are you sure?” Viktor asks, his head tilting.

“Yes, I’m sure,” you nod. “I just have to get used to the manner at which these sorts of events go on. But I can do it. If you’ll recall, adaptability was a strength on my resume.”

This earns a laugh from both of the men. Jayce removes his hand from your lower back to rub your shoulder softly. “I think we glossed over that part.”

Viktor stops laughing suddenly, which elicits a raised eyebrow from you.

“What?” You ask, your eyes darting between Viktor and Jayce. Jayce’s lips press together in a tight seal as if he caught himself letting something slip. “What do you mean?”

Just in time to save them from the obviously impending awkward situation, a man in an all black suit approaches.

“Gentlemen, if I may borrow your lovely assistant for a dance–”

You felt your cheeks growing hot with every word he spoke. You were so incredibly tired of old men here thinking they could just ask politely and receive your body to use in whatever stupid waltz they wanted to try their hand at. “Gods, I don’t–”

“My apologies,” Jayce said, interrupting what he was sure would be an outburst on your part. “I’m afraid our lovely assistant is spoken for, for the rest of the night.”

Viktor punctuated his sentence with a nod and a gentle squeeze of your upper arm.

“I see,” the man said, his face betraying his civility. “Well, find me if that changes.”

As soon as the man was out of earshot, Viktor released your arm. “Call that car, Jayce.”

“On it,” he said, already beginning to make his way to the front of the ballroom.

“I’ve been where you are,” Viktor said, his nimble fingers trailing downward from where he had been squeezing your arm. He lifts your hand and places it on his wrist so that you cling to him as the two of you walk toward the exit together. “When I was Heimerdinger’s assistant, I was often undermined. Although, I had the distinct privilege of not being a beautiful young woman. While I can relate to your frustration, the misogyny and objectification you’re experiencing aren’t exactly things Jayce and I have experienced. But we’re going to do our best to quell it for you.”

You look up at him and find his hardened expression fixed on the door. “Thank you.” Those two words will suffice for now, but Viktor’s promise warms your heart in ways that a simple thank you cannot express.

Jayce finds the two of you as you exit into the grand hallway. “Car’s waiting outside.” He takes his coat off and drapes it over your shoulders, not paying much attention to your hand on Viktor’s arm.

The three of you pile in the back of the limousine. You sit sandwiched between the two men, relishing in the warmth radiating from their bodies after the few steps outside in the cold night. Viktor stretches his leg outward in the spacious backseat while Jayce leans back and groans. Clearly you aren’t the only one exhausted from the antics of the night.

“Where will I be taking you three?” The driver asks, his eyes visible in the rearview mirror.

“Two stops, if possible,” Jayce speaks up, leaning forward once more to be heard better. “The laboratory block of the academy and the East Dormitories.”

“You guys are going to the lab? It’s almost midnight.” You ask, turning to Jayce before realizing how the proximity of the backseat brings your face so close to his.

“Always work to be done,” Jayce says, glancing over your face before giving you a little more space. “But don’t worry, you’ve had a long night. You don’t need to do any assisting again until tomorrow morning.”

You look over at Viktor momentarily, to see him staring out the window as the car begins to move.

“If it’s alright, I think I’d like to go to the lab, too,” you say, softly. You can’t help but feel as though you’re inviting yourself to some clandestine meeting, as if you don’t have as much of a reason to be at the lab as they do.

Jayce looks over at Viktor, not for confirmation but for something else. Humor, maybe?

“Of course,” Jayce smiles softly. He shifts his attention to the driver again. “On second thought, just take us to the labs, please.”

The driver nods as he picks up speed and peels out of the driveway. For some reason, your heart pounds. It isn’t abnormal for you and the two men to stay ridiculously late at the lab. In fact, it’s more common than leaving before midnight.

You become suddenly aware of the long slit that opens your deep red dress, and you cross your legs.

“Jayce I wanted to ask you something,” you say, mustering up the courage to recall the slip-up from earlier. “What did you mean when you said you glossed over my resume?”

“Well…” Jayce looks over at Viktor, which makes you do the same. Now he’s definitely paying attention, his eyebrows two firm lines scrunched above his angular nose.

Viktor finally decides to chime in, and you know exactly why: Jayce isn’t a good liar.

“We had lots of applications,” Viktor said. “You know that.”

“Yeah, but…then why did you hire me?”

“You had a very promising interview,” Viktor says, now avoiding eye contact.

“You’re lying to me,” you say, more accusatory than you meant it to be.

“We should just tell her, Vik,” Jayce mutters, almost under his breath. In response, Viktor’s hard expression softens. Perhaps out of relief?

“Tell me what?”

“Fine,” Viktor says, finally, with an exhausted sigh. “I’m too tired to persuade you against it.”

Jayce puts a hand so low on your thigh that it’s almost on your knee. “First, it’s important that you know that we would have hired you regardless. You’re so incredibly talented and you’ve been such a good assistant; we have no doubt in our minds that you’re the perfect person for this job.”

“Regardless of what, Jayce?”

“A little help, Vik?” Jayce asks after a sigh of helpless frustration.

“We sent everyone else home after your interview,” Viktor said, still looking out of the window, his arm resting on the ledge of the door, fidgeting with the handle. “When we saw you for the first time, we decided we wanted to see you more often.”

“What?” You feel your face growing hot. Anger? Something else entirely?

“The first note I wrote during your interview just said ‘beautiful,’ and I don’t think I wrote anything down after that,” Jayce admitted.

“You can’t be serious,” you say at a volume so low it might be a whisper. Anger. Definitely anger. “All night…all night I was swatting away guys who were objectifying me…accusing me of just being your pretty little assistant. I thought it was just misogyny. I thought they just couldn’t believe a girl was capable of keeping up with you two…but apparently they were right.”

“That’s not the case, at all,” Viktor said, louder than you’d ever heard him. “It couldn’t be further from the truth. We weren’t objectifying you. You deserve respect for your accomplishments, and those accomplishments are numerous.”

“He’s right, it’s not like we just hired you to look at,” Jayce said, trying to reconcile the situation. “And it’s not like I didn’t write notes during your interview because there wasn’t anything to write. I stopped writing because I was captivated by you.”

Suddenly the weight of the situation falls onto you, all at once. These men, your bosses, your best friends, the two smartest, most accomplished scientists in Piltover…they were attracted to you.

“For three months?” You ask, softly, more to yourself than to them.

“Yes,” Viktor answered. “We understand if you’re upset with us.”

The car slowed to a stop against the curb of the laboratory building of the academy.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to go into the lab anymore,” Jayce said, beginning to lean forward and opening his mouth to address the driver. “Hey, sorry, could you–”

“No,” you say, your words final. “I’m going into the lab with you.”

Your lips are a deep red firm line. Your eyes are unreadable, and neither of the boys can tell what you’re thinking. Even you hardly know, but one thing is certain: you find yourself in an auspicious position. You didn’t need the two boys to validate you for everything listed on your resume. They knew you were intelligent, and more importantly, you knew. What you didn’t know is that they found you beautiful. So much so that they hired you just to see you more often.

You’d spent the whole night trying to defend your own honor, being shaken by men with accusatory, wandering hands. More than that, you’d spent the night wandering awkwardly for the benefit of your bosses. Now, it was time to return the favor.

“If you’re sure,” Jayce said, pushing open the car door and stepping out onto the curb, holding it open for you as Viktor exited through the other door. As you brushed past Jayce, you let his coat fall delicately down your shoulders, revealing the deep backline of the dress.

You turn over your right shoulder, just enough for your face to be past profile, and narrow your eyes at him. “I’m sure.”

Once Viktor is out of the car, the three of you walk toward the large glass doors that lead to the lobby of the laboratory building. You stop in front of the keycard sensor and watch as Viktor pats down his pant pockets in search of his key card.

“Sorry, one second,” he says.

You approach him, with no sound but the clicking of your heels on the cold pavement below, and slide your hand into his coat pocket. You watch his jaw clench, never taking your eyes off his face as you pinch the plastic card between your pointer and middle finger. You pull it out like a cigarette before waving it in front the boys’ faces and tapping it against the small metal sensor. It beeps with a green flash and you hand the card back to Viktor. Neither of them says a word.

You enter through the glass doors, but at the lack of footsteps behind you, you turn around. The men still stand, staring at you, mouths slightly agape.

“What?” You ask. “Aren’t you coming?”

Jayce coughs, as if fighting something in his throat, then takes a few steps forward and follows you.

You press the call button on the elevator and wait as the boys stand on either side of you.

“If you’re upset with us, please say so,” Viktor said, his voice bordering pleading.

“Upset?” You tilt your head to look up at the man beside you. Even in heels they were both taller than you. “Do I look upset?”

“I–uh well, I am not sure. You look…focused.”

You were definitely focused. Yes, you were playing with them. Wasn’t it only fair that you return a bit of the awkwardness provided by their sudden confession in the car? This was you getting even for that embarrassment, and you’d soon be getting even for the long-kept secret, as well.

“Strange,” you say as the elevator door opens before you. You step in and turn to face the door. “Jayce, press four.”

He does as you say.

“And how do you think I look, Jayce?” You ask, your eyes shifting toward him in the confined space of the elevator. He repeats that same little choked cough from before, except now it sounds closer to him clearing his throat.

“I think you look very good.”

You smile at him. Not a kind one, but the sort of condescending smile one gives a child who gave the wrong answer. A cute answer, though.

“Thanks,” you say, your eyes returning back to the door. “But I was asking if you thought I looked angry.”

The door beeps open and you are the first to leave. As you walk down the long hallway, you hear the boys walking a yard behind you. They’re nervous, that much you can sense on the cold bare skin of your back.

You stop at the lab door at the end of the hall and wait for the boys to catch up. It’s the biggest lab on the fourth floor.

Viktor now has his keys at the ready and unlocks the large wooden door, then holds it open for you to enter before the two boys. How spoiled you are.

You saunter into the lab, letting Jayce’s coat fall all the way down your shoulders before draping it on a stool next to the counter. They attempt to ignore you, bee-lining toward their desks in the lab but you catch each time their eye wanders to you on the opposite side of the room. Often they alternate, glancing over while the other is talking about the equations they're working through or the tools they need to assemble something. Every so often, they look over at you at the exact same time, following whispers you can’t quite make out, and when they do it is absolutely silent.

Meanwhile, you’re pouring the wine that you’ve been stashing in the cabinet meant for volatile chemical solutions. You’ve laid out three glasses, but you only fill the one in the middle. You sip from it slowly, your eyes peeking out from above the glass rim so you can catch them every time they look over at you.

“What are you doing?” Jayce asks, exasperatedly, finally.

“What do you mean?” You ask, and continue to sip your wine.

“We said we were sorry–”

“No, actually you didn’t.” You finish your glass and set it back down between the two empty glasses. “You said you understood if I was mad. And you tried to explain yourselves.”

“We are sorry,” Viktor said. “Terribly sorry. For lying, and for…objectifying you.”

“I thought you said it wasn’t objectification?” You said, still bitter despite the joy you extracted from teasing these poor boys.

“It doesn’t matter what we think we did or did not do,” Viktor said, the thickness of his accent swallowing his nervous words. “What matters is that you are hurt, and that we are terribly sorry.”

“I’m not hurt.”

“Eh…you’re not?” It wasn’t often that Viktor sounded confused, so you relished the question.

“No.”

“Then what’s wrong?” Jayce asked.

You poured wine into the two glasses on either side of your own and smiled as you looked down at the liquid filling them. You pushed the glasses toward them and raised your eyebrows expectantly. As if well trained, they walked over to you at the counter and picked up their glasses, taking small sips each.

“You could call it disbelief,” you said. “Or plain shock.”

“I understand that we sprung a lot on you all at once–” Viktor started to say, but you raised your hand.

“I’m not in disbelief because you’re attracted to me, Viktor, I’m far too self-assured for that.”

Jayce stifles a laugh.

“I’m in disbelief because I’ve wasted three months pretending not to be attracted to either of you,” you say, coming out from behind the counter and going to sit on the couch in the center of the room. You’d done an excellent job decorating their lab and had managed to make it feel like a home rather than a detention room.

“What are you saying?” Jayce asks, setting his glass down and stepping toward you. Viktor follows his example.

“I’m saying that if you had just told me ages ago that you two felt that way, I’d be laughing at the men who asked to dance with me tonight instead of clenching my fists. I’ve spent three months pushing aside any thought of you two outside of professional settings because I didn’t want to be the naive little lab assistant fawning over her bosses.”

A strap of your dress slips off of your left shoulder, and you let it.

“What a waste,” you scoff as you lean back into the cushions of the couch. You pick your hair up so that it falls over the cushions and cascades like a waterfall.

“So…” you watch as the gears in Jayce’s genius brain turn, “if we had told you sooner then–”

“Then you could have had me sooner.”

NSFW PART TWO????

[ceilidho]

'still wakes the deep' au

prompt: You're an environmental scientist conducting research on an off-shore oil rig with only a few days left before you're slated to leave. The eldritch creature they accidentally awaken throws a wrench in the works. First Meeting masterlist

-

Choppy waters like Neptune’s eye meet your gaze when you look back at where you came from, the land on the other side but a beige striation on the horizon. 

“Afraid of heights, doctor?” your escort asks, his amusement borderline distasteful. It must stroke their ego to watch newcomers come aboard and flounder, gawking at the swells and waves crashing against the oil rig, each wave so cataclysmic that it’s a wonder the structure stays upright. A wonder of engineering, that is. 

The rig manager stands closer to the railing, staring without fear out into the ocean surrounding you. His sea legs are likelier studier than the ones that wash up ashore every fourteen days when he’s due for his OSHA mandated break. His knees don’t even buckle at the sight of the barnacles clinging nerve-wrackingly high up on the rig legs. Far too high up for comfort. 

“No, sir,” you reply, shaking your head. “Just water.”

He barks a laugh at that. “Plenny o’ that around here. Wouldn’y go leaning my head over the rail then, if I was you.”

You take another look down, balking at the frothy white streaking the latticework barrier around the jacket legs. No worries there; there isn’t a chance in hell you’ll be going anywhere near the rails. You’re too high up to know for sure, but you wonder if there are sharks plumbing the depths beneath the rig, excited by the noise and activity on board. 

You’d be shark chum if you went overboard. Beyond that, you’d be fish food; no sympathy from the sea to be found this far from land. 

“Where should I set up?” you ask instead. 

Sensing your eagerness to get started—and to get away from the edge of the rig—he gestures for you to follow him and sets off towards the door closest to you, leading you into the interior of the rig. “This way, doc—got a room already set up for ye. Cozier in there than out here.”

The first few days aren’t so bad after that. You spend the first day getting unpacked, your suitcase already waiting for you in your quarters, which doubles as your office, and then turn in early after prepping for the next day. 

As anticipated, you spend the next day hunched over the toilet bowl, stomach roiling from spending too long staring at the turbulent waters below. You’ve done this before but it never gets any easier. Despite your chosen field of research, you’re suited for dry land, not the sea. It’s the price you have to pay though. 

No coffee that first morning. Just tea to help settle your stomach. And it does for a bit—lets you get through your first day worth of tests without you upchucking while collecting water samples from the discharge point. You’ll save your indoor work for the days when the crests of the waves are high enough to spray the working deck. By dinner, your stomach is a little more settled, but still you elect to eat in your quarters instead of with the workers in the mess. 

You haven’t been on the rig long enough to have made any enemies, nor do you think that’s something that’ll happen during your brief time on board, but you definitely haven’t made any friends. It comes with the territory. The men that work on these rigs out in the middle of the ocean—even the ones on land, for that matter—tend to view your kind with distrust at the very least, if not outright hostility. 

It’s hard to blame them. The purpose of your visit isn’t to shower them with praises. You’re stationed on the rig for the next few days to collect data and samples to assess the environmental impact of the rig’s operations. It puts you somewhat at odds with them, the outcome of your work being potentially to the detriment of theirs. 

Some whisper the word like blasphemy. Government worker. They say it like you’re the Baba Yaga or a witch living in a cottage at the edge of the village, like uttering the word too loudly will summon you. There’s too much work to do around the rig for them to cluck their tongues like gossipy hens, but the men find time for it anyway. You’d roll your eyes if you were any greener. 

The truth is though, you’re used to it, and at this point in your career, you don’t have it in you to act like it’s such a shock that they wouldn’t give you the red carpet treatment. All you need is a hot cup of coffee, an office (or even just a desk) to write your reports, and some space to conduct your research without being badgered with questions.

Most of the men tend to blur together, a medley of fluorescent yellow hard hats and navy coveralls, respirators strung around their necks and goggles covering their eyes. It’s easy enough to mistake them for one another. 

Only one of them has managed to catch your eye so far, though you can’t say it’s for a particularly good reason. Of the lot of them, he’s the loudest. Which is saying something, considering that the crew tend to speak in shouts and hollers to make up for the crashing waves beneath them and the howling winds above them. He’s also among the tallest, broad shouldered and muscled—a former first responder or military, if you had to guess, though you keep your assumptions to yourself. 

You know better than to ask questions around him because you’ve learned in the short time that you’ve spent on the rig not to give him—Soap, they call him, or MacTavish when the rig manager is particularly pissed off—even an inch. 

It’s another crew member that gives you that heads up. “Din’y pay him any mind.”

“Who?” you ask, looking up from your work.

The crew member nods to the man posted on the other side of the main deck. “Soap. Bit of a showboat, that one. Always stirrin’ up the boys, gettin’ ‘em all riled up. Din’y let him distract ye too much.”

“Oh. Thanks.” You look back down at the data sheets in front of you. “I’m not worried though. He hasn’t been too much trouble.”

Famous last words. 

He isn’t too much trouble until he suddenly is; until he’s suddenly everywhere, always in your way somehow. Not so much underfoot as just always around the corner waiting with his stupid smug smirk that you’ve grown to despise and half-lidded electric blue eyes roving up and down the length of you. Aggravating you at every turn. 

Your first meeting is an accident. At least, it seems that way, and likely is—he seems too blunt for coincidences or chance meetings, happy to tell you to your face that he manipulated the situation in order to get you on your own. 

You’re wandering down one of the many circulatory hallways and slightly lost when a door suddenly opens, blocking your way. A jumpsuit-clad man twice your size walks out, his hair just brushing the top of the doorframe. Though you recognize him instantly, you’d never gotten close enough for the details to cement in your mental image of him. Up close, you get a better look.

The faint lines around his eyes and mouth betray either his age or the life he’s lived. Weathered; bronzed from days at a time spent under the sun. You’d noticed the mohawk earlier, but staring at the side of his head now, you can see the faint puckering of a healed wound splintering out from his temple into his hairline. Though the sides of his head are freshly shorn, the scar looks old—maybe a year, maybe more. 

When he notices that he’s not alone in the hall, his head turns in your direction and he stops, one foot still in the other room. Two thick brows go up at the sight of you standing there with your tablet clutched to your chest. 

“Hullo gorgeous,” Soap purrs, pupils suddenly pinpricks and your stomach drops. 

Because of course he would. You’d long figured he might be an arrogant piece of work from what little you’ve observed of him from across the rig, but you should’ve known he’d also be a flirt. He’s too good-looking not to be one. Tall and broad, with biceps the size of your head. You’re sure he rolls his shirt sleeves up just to feel them strain against the muscles of his arms. You certainly can’t help the way your eyes are drawn there. 

“Ah ken who ye are,” he says, taking a step towards you until the tips of his boots nearly touch yours. The door is still wide open behind him, swinging slowly towards the wall behind it. Soap towers over you easily, tipping his head to stare down at you. Your lips press into a tight line when his eyes drop to your chest, staring at the outline of your tits through your cardigan. 

“Okay,” you say through stiff lips.

“Yer that lass from the government. Ah thought ye'd be auld,” he jokes, shit-eating grin on his face. 

You nearly groan. It’s too early for this shit and you’re too tired from being up all night working on your report on the rig’s discharge water quality. 

“Well, I’m not,” you reply woodenly instead, altogether unimpressed with him. 

For as fit as he is, you’re not here to flirt or hookup, and you’re good at separating work and your personal life. If anyone manages to get under your skin enough to tempt you, it won’t be the man undressing you with his eyes while covered in a thin layer of grime and sweat. 

“Nae, yer no’,” he agrees, voice a low burr. His eyes flick up to meet yours. “I’m John, by the way.”

“I know.”

“…It’s polite tae give yer name when someone introduces thersel's tae ye.”

“I’d rather you just call me doctor.”

“Doctor, eh?” Soap purrs, running his tongue over his bottom lip. “Dae ye dae house calls, doc? Hae been feelin’ a wee bit feverish lately.”

You can’t help the way your cheeks heat at his comment. “Not that kind of doctor. Do you mind getting out of the way?”

“Jesus, I din’y ken ye’d be so fuckin’ prickly. Thought ye government workers were cheery a' the time.”

“Not when we have work to do,” you bite out, decidedly uncomfortable with his shameless perusal and eager just to get on with your day. “Can you move please? I have somewhere to be.”

All that does is force him to take another step closer, toe-to-toe with you now. You should’ve known he’d take that as an invitation. He reeks of grease and brine, the smell pungent and clinging to his skin and clothes. Almost like he sleeps and works in the same pair of coveralls instead of bringing his dirty clothes down to the laundry facility like everyone else at the end of the week. 

You tell yourself to stop staring at where his coveralls open to a sweat-slicked chest, dark hair poking up over the neckline, but your eyes don’t comply. A small cross dangles from a chain around his neck, nestled in the hair just above his pecs. 

“Good Catholic lass, are ye?” Soap asks, noticing the focal point of your gaze.

You scrunch up your nose at that. “No. I didn’t—it’s none of your business anyway.”

The stutter is where his eyes light up, a little gleam in the blue that lets you know you’ve caught his interest. Like seeing a storm well off in the distance and bracing for it anyway, knowing that you’re in its path no matter what you do. 

“A’right, doc, Ah'll leave ye tae it. Gotta get back myself anyway,” he says, rolling his shoulders back and standing up taller, and it’s only in that moment that you realize how low his neck had been bent in order to get closer to you. “Wait. I can’y let ye go lookin’ like that.”

You’re about to ask him what he means when he suddenly grabs you by the front of your cardigan and pulls you towards him, getting the grease on his hands all over the fabric. Your eyes nearly bug out of your skull as he pops the topmost button into its corresponding hole, the only one you’d left purposefully loose. 

The only reason you don’t snap at him to take his hands off you is because your tongue is a knot in your throat. 

“There we go,” Soap coos when the button is in, looking down at his handiwork all over the front of your shirt. “Lookin’ like part o’ the crew already.”

Your heart pounds in your chest long after he lets you go. When he steps to the side, the door flush with the wall by now, you dart around him, walking away as fast as your legs can carry you without sprinting. You ignore the way he belts out a laugh at your swift departure. Ignore the way your stomach cramps at the sound as well. 

He might end up being more trouble than you thought.

[smileysuh]

ride night

🌙 starring. Lee Donghyuck x afab!Reader I ft. Johnny

🔮 preview. “You always told me you had a thing for older men. Said I wasn’t your usual type- not daddy enough for you, well, here you go, baby. Let daddy hear you moan for my cock.” You seriously can’t believe this is happening. All you can do is try to relax while Hyuck fucks you stupid in some dive bar bathroom stall, your core still throbbing and desperate after six orgasms from a vibrator while on his bike. The fingers on your oversensitive bud are unrelenting, just like your boyfriend, and at this point, you can’t even bring yourself to care that his ride night dad is listening in, only a few feet away. 

tw/cw. Exhibitionism, riding a Harley with a vibrator inside of you, multiple orgasms, fucking in a bar bathroom while someone (John) listens in, overstimulation, unprotected sex, vibrator as a ball gag, voyeurism, dirty talk, praise, choking, brief pussy eating, Hyuck has tattoos, etc… I pet names: (hers) princess.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 4.9k

🍭 aus. Established relationship au, motorcycle au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. The I love Harleys saga continues but this time with NCT

You met Lee Donghyuck in the winter of your life. It was all cold weather, windy days and rain streaks against your apartment window. When you bumped into him at a bar, and he’d pulled you over to tell you that you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, things began to get brighter.

It’s been five months now, and the warmth of spring turning into summer matches the heat Donghyuck has brought into your existence. He’s enthusiastic, and so so good at making your day sparkle. 

A self-proclaimed ‘motorcycle skid man’ with tattoos and a generally bad attitude toward others to match, Hyuck has been raving about how excited he is to finally have a girl to take on his Harley night rides, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t just as stoked to be joining him in this aspect of his life.

You’ve been on his bike a handful of times since the riding season started, and while you’re getting used to the loud, vibrating engine, you’ve never been a backpack for more than fifteen or so minutes with the speed he goes at. This will be your first time on a longer trip, as his friends usually take a scenic route two or so towns over to get drinks at one-off dive bars.

He pulls infront of your apartment, and your entire body is thrumming with an excited energy you can’t even put into words. When he takes off his helmet, and shakes out his shaggy dark hair, you swear he looks almost godlike. The tattoos on his hands and neck are visible, but the rest of his intricate inkings are covered in a hoodie and ride gear. 

“Hey, princess,” he grins, pulling out one of his bluetooth earbuds to hand to you. “Are you ready for this?”

“Uh huh.” You accept the earbud, slotting it into place.

“We’re going to stop at my bike dad’s place to get you proper gear,” Hyuck explains. “He called me earlier and gave me a talking to about not being too much of a dick head with you on the back.”

Your Harley lover has found a family within his motorcycle fanatic friends, one of which, is a man named John who you’ve met twice. He’s always preaching about safety, as he’s been in the motorcycle scene for much longer than your baby rider boyfriend, who’s only been riding for two or so years.

There’s always a risk involved with motorcycles, and John has had too many friends who’ve gotten into accidents, too many close calls for comfort. 

The first time you’d met John, Hyuck had darted off to get drinks, and in the loud seclusion of a corner in the bar, John had warned you not to let Hyuck take risks with you. “He’s only brought a girl around once,” the twenty-nine year old had explained, “and even with that, he’s the only guy I know who goes faster with a backpack.”

You’re not surprised that John would insist on proper gear for a ride of this caliber. When you and Hyuck pull up to his townhouse, he’s standing in the garage with three different jackets laid across the hood of his new black ram truck. 

“Hey, Speedy Racer, hi, Princess,” John smiles, pulling you into a hug that lingers before assessing Hyuck as he’s taking off his helmet. “You excited for this?”

“So excited,” you respond, grinning from ear to ear.

“Hold onto this one,” John says, addressing your boyfriend, “she’s not a scardey cat like the last girl.”

“Trust me, I’m planning on holding on,” Hyuck promises, coming up behind you to wrap you in his arms. 

“So… is this the gear?” you ask, assessing the jackets on the car.

“Yeah, I bought these for my ex.” John runs a hand through his dark hair. “Figure they need a new home now.”

“Why don’t you get your own girlfriend?” Hyuck teases, squeezing you roughly.

John only sighs at your boyfriend’s antics. “Anyways, try them all on, see which one you like best.”

You shrug off your own wind breaker, picking up the first black leather jacket. It looks nice, but it’s a little large, and John explains that it’s usually meant for a hoodie underneath, which he can grab for you if you’d like. 

The second one fits a little better, but it’s still not as snug as you’d enjoy. 

When you pick up the third jacket, a white leather piece with black detailing, you can already tell from the feel of the material that it will be your favourite. As you put it on, you note the small amount of padding, the way it hugs your body. 

“That’s the one, princess,” Hyuck muses, looking you up and down.

“It looks good,” John offers you a smile. He turns, heading for a drawer, where he pulls out a pair of black riding gloves. “One last touch,” he explains, passing them to you.

When you put on the leather gloves, you finally feel like an actual motorcycle girlfriend.

“Are we good to go?” John asks.

“I just need to go piss first,” Hyuck says. “Princess, come with.”

John cocks his eye brow, but doesn’t say anything as Hyuck pulls you into the townhome, leading you down a hall to the first floor bathroom.

“What are you doing?” you laugh when he closes the door behind you, locking it securely.

“Got you something,” Hyuck tells you, reaching into his jacket.

Your heart thumps at what this present could be, and it lurches into your throat when he takes out a pink, egg vibrator.

“Hyuck, this isn’t a good idea-”

“Are you kidding?” he grins. “It’s the best idea I’ve ever had, come here”

You don’t fight him when he reaches for your hand, tugging you closer. His lips meet yours, and you eagerly kiss him back, his tongue swiping against your own. His mouth quickly moves to your throat, and his breath tickles when he whispers, “You’re going to love this.”

He gets down onto his knees, quickly pulling your pants and underwear down. The cool air of the bathroom makes your skin tingle, and your boyfriend leans forward, pressing a kiss to the patch of skin just under your belly button.

“Hyuck-” you whisper, threading your fingers through his hair.

“Be good for me,” he tells you, spreading your thighs as much as the pants by your feet can allow. It’s an odd angle, but your boyfriend somehow gets his skilled tongue licking at your folds, his lips wrapping around your clit. 

One finger enters you, then two. He pushes at the spongy spot that has your toes curling in your shoes, your legs shaky. Then, to your disappointment, he pulls away.

Hyuck looks up at you, watching your reactions as he brings the internal vibrator to your pussy, gently pushing it inside.

“How’s that feel?” he asks, breath hot along your sensitive inner thighs.

“Good,” you respond, swallowing thickly.

“Perfect.” He kisses your stomach, then pulls up your jeans. “This is going to be the best ride you’ve ever been on.”

The three of you had arrived at the dealership with ten minutes before the kickstands-up start time. Hyuck had introduced you to friends you’ve not yet had the chance to meet, and he hadn’t turned the vibrator on yet.

But when everyone gets on their bikes in preparation for the hour ride ahead of you, Hyuck reaches into his pocket, at first, you think it’s just to turn on music for your Bluetooth earbuds, but that’s when the low setting of the toy kicks into gear.

Your thighs immediately squeeze around him at the stimulus, your grip on his hips tightening.

Hyuck tosses you a look over his shoulder, then flips his visor down, turning to face the road and revving his engine.

The vibrations from the Harley and the toy have your entire body tingling with delight, and you realize that while this might be the best ride of your life, it’s definitely going to be the longest, in more ways than one.

You do your best to focus on the sight in front of you rather than the vibrations. There must be over twenty Harleys on this ride, and it feels momentous in some odd way to be a part of this. 

Your group comes up to the turn light outside the dealership, after this, you’ll be on the highway. The riders are in two columns, taking up one stretch of lane. When you turn your head, you realize Johnny is pulled up beside you. He pushes his tinted visor up, flashing you a wink while you all wait.

Hyuck turns to stare at John, and as the light shifts, they both begin to rev their engines. You can’t help the giggle of delight that bubbles within you, it’s as if the two are caught up in some type of pissing match, and others soon join in.

The first two riders take off as the turn light switches on. Hyuck shifts into gear, and the motorcycle pulls forward, your knees digging against his thighs for grip as you prepare for the speed that’s about to come now that you’re on the highway.

You’ve heard John and others call Hyuck ‘Speedy Racer,’ and you know your boyfriend has a reputation for breaking limits, but in your short experience backpacking, nothing could have prepared you for how fast all the bikes are moving the moment you’re all clear of the turn.

You can see the way the men are feeding off of each other. They’re respectful of those in front of them… to a point, but everyone looks like they have something to prove, or maybe it’s just a love for the extreme.

Either way, you can only hold on as the outskirts of the city flash by you faster than they ever have before. 

The music playing through your earbud shifts, and as ‘Or Nah’ by Ty Dolla $ign comes on, you realize Hyuck’s making you listen to his sex playlist. 

Fuck- Your pussy clenches around the vibrator, your fingers digging into his hips.

You watch Hyuck’s grip tighten on his handlebars, his veins flexing under numerous dark hand tattoos that always turn you on way more than they should.

His engine revs aggressively, prompting the rider in front of him to go even faster and close the gap between the person two bikes up. 

John matches Hyuck’s speed on your left, turning to look at you both. 

It feels suddenly very dirty - and exhilarating - at the same time, to be doing this.

If only John knew what sinful music is ringing through your head, what dizzying vibrations are coursing through your pussy-

There are small district type suburbs outside of the city, and you somehow make the fifteen to thirty minute stretch to the next closest one in what must be only five minutes. You’re breathless by the time you get to the next light, one of two on the highway in this zone, and even though you think you’ll be able to catch a moment of reprieve, you’re wrong.

Hyuck reaches into his pocket, dialing up the intensity of the vibrator.

Your legs shake around him, your breaths coming out in hot pants inside your helmet.

John is looking at you again, and he motions for you to lift your visor.

Sure, any rider watching you practically hyperventilate at a red light would suggest lifting the piece of plastic keeping your face contained in your helmet- but that’s the last thing you want to do right now.

Hyuck lifts his own visor, looking over his shoulder at you then back at John. He leans a little to the left to get closer to his friend, and John’s the one to ask “Is she good?”

“She’s perfect,” Hyuck shouts over the sound of engines. His hand finds yours on his hip, rubbing you gently. “Aren’t you, princess?”

Taking a deep breath, you lift your visor, managing a small smile at your boyfriends ‘bike dad.’

“I’m okay,” you try to reassure John, but your voice is shaky.

Before John can say anything else, engines catch your attention and all three of you look forward, where the light has turned green.

“Visors down,” Hyuck warns you, knocking his own back into place before booting his kickstand back up. The bike lurches forward not two seconds later, and you’re left scrambling to adjust your helmet before latching back onto your boyfriends waist.

There’s a sissybar at your back, and you know logically that it will keep you from sliding off the end of the Harley, but you’re still not used to this type of speed. You can’t help but hold on like Hyuck is your life line, and with your mischievous speedy racer of a lover in control of the vibrator wedged between your sensitive walls, he kind of is. 

Lucky for everyone taking part in ride night, the second light in this small town is green, and your group flies through, the signs noting the speed increase back to normal highway regulations- although, you’re sure everyone here is going way over what’s posted.

You can’t see Hyuck’s speedometer with his body in front of yours, and part of you doesn’t want to see it.

You close your eyes, giving in to the onslaught of sensations. 

The air ripping at your tight riding jacket, gravel buffering your knees ever so often, music ringing through your helmet, the powerful vibrator in your pussy, and the even more powerful machine that Hyuck maneuvers like a God-

If you focus too hard, if you allow yourself to enjoy all of this, you might just cum, and part of you wants to resist that, so you open your eyes, looking over at John on the bike next to you.

Hyuck might be the notorious dare devil, but John’s not all that angelic either. The man is standing straight up on his foot pegs, his butt raised completely off his seat. The wind is tearing at his leather jacket, and you can’t even imagine the pressure of the air he’s cutting through, battering at his body-

Even so, he looks as free as you’ve ever seen a man look.

Your pussy pulses pathetically around the toy and you grip Hyuck’s hips, legs shaking around his own.

His hand lands on your thigh, squeezing, as if to say ‘cum for me,’ and your body can’t help itself this time. You release all the pressure, your muscles going slack for a moment of peace before contracting from the power of your orgasm.

Your core throbs desperately around the vibrator, your eyes closing to enjoy the sensation.

Hyuck takes his hand away from your thigh, revving the engine and kicking into an even higher gear. The bike purs below you, as if she - like her master - is amped up from the energy of your release.

John sits back down on his bike to match Hyuck’s acceleration, and you can feel his eyes on you. Another pang of pleasure erupts through your form, your visor fogging up from how hard you’re panting.

Hyuck makes a motion at John, and with your vision obscured, it’s hard to tell exactly what he’s saying. However, when he forms his hand into a fist and shakes it aggressively to emulate a vibrator, you can almost picture the look of recognition behind John’s tinted visor.

You can’t bring yourself to think about it too hard right now, your orgasm still throbbing through you like white hot summer rays.

It’s hard to gauge time on the back of a bike. With the world going past you at what feels like a hundred miles a minute, it could be an orgasm that lasts five minutes, or five seconds, you’re not sure.

All you can do is hold on, allowing the pleasure to overtake you until it subsides, your muscles slowing the contractions around the vibrator. 

You don’t know it yet, but this will be your first of six orgasms on the back of Hyuck’s bike during the hour and a half ride to the bar.

Hyuck had turned off the vibrator at the first red light you’d reached after entering the town that will be your final destination. You’d slumped like a limp rag doll behind him, trying to catch your breath the rest of the way.

When the group of Harleys pulls into the bar parkinglot, you’re honestly not sure you’ll even be able to stand, and your legs are wobbly as you nearly stumble off the back of Hyuck’s bike.

You fumble with the straps of your helmet, tearing it off and taking a big gasp of air.

Hyuck’s much more graceful with his movements, bending down to pick up the earbud that’s fallen to the ground with the force of the removal of your helmet. “You good, princess?”

You narrow your eyes at him, knowing your cheeks are flushed and you probably look like a mess.

“I’ll make it better,” Hyuck promises, standing and pulling you into a breathtaking kiss. You can’t help the way you react to him, leaning against his chest and completely melting. It feels so good to be touched, finally, after over and hour of what feels like torture. You can almost forget about the gang of bikers whistling and howling at the sight. 

Hyuck pulls away too quickly, putting his helmet on his bike before grabbing yours to do the same. Then, he latches onto your hand. “Come on,” he says gruffly.

You want to ask if you should wait for the rest of the riders to park properly, but when Hyuck begins to tug you toward the bar, your words get caught in your throat.

The dive bar hostess’s eyes widen when you and Hyuck approach. “Hey, I’m with the group that just pulled up, my girlfriend’s been needing to piss since the last town, can we just use your bathroom real quick?”

The girl stammers, but Hyuck’s already pushing through with a gruff, “Thanks.”

It’s clear Hyuck’s been here before, because he knows exactly where he’s going. As he pushes you into the men’s bathroom, doing a quick look around to make sure it’s empty, your heart begins to thunder in your chest.

“Hyuck-”

“Come on, princess,” he shakes his head at you, tugging you into a stall, “I didn’t toy with you for over an hour just to leave you high and dry. You want to be filled, properly, don’t you?”

His breath is hot against your skin as he corners you into the small stall, pinning you against the black plastic wall. 

You don’t have it in you to wait for him to fuck you till you get home, but you don’t have it in you to speak much either, all you can do is whimper and nod, clutching at his hoodie to pull him into a kiss.

He groans against you, and the sound goes straight to your core. Hyuck’s lips quickly move to your throat, teasing by your sweet spot while you moan and thread your fingers through his soft hair.

When his teeth graze past the collar of your jacket, you push your hips forward, silently begging for more friction. He rewards you by pushing his thigh between your own, allowing you to grind down on him while his nimble fingers tug down the zipper.

For a moment, a scene flashes through your mind's eye. You envision John in a very similar position to where you are now, some faceless lover, adorned in the jacket that’s now keeping you from Hyuck-

 Your boyfriend buries his face in your exposed tits now, holding the leather open so he can access the cleavage pushed up by your bra.

“Hyuck, please-” you whimper, acutely aware that you’re in a public restroom.

“So needy,” he chuffs, nipping at your collarbone.

His hand slips to your pants, undoing them before roughly tugging the fabric down.

“Can you push the vibe out for me baby?” he prompts, thumb circling your clit.

The mere graze of his digit against your throbbing bud has your core clenching, following through with his command. Hyuck catches the vibrator as it falls, grinning at you. “Now say ah.”

“What?”

“It’s to keep you quiet, plus, I need this shit clean so I can put it back in my pocket.”

He’s such a fuck, but you dutifully open your mouth for him, accepting the toy.

The taste of your own pussy on your tongue has you mewling for Hyuck, reaching down to fumble with his belt.

You can feel his cock pressing against his jeans, and you’re practically drooling around the makeshift gag ball by the time you get him free of the denim.

Hyuck grabs the back of your head, pulling you in for a haphazardly sinful kiss. He licks at the toy, groaning from your slick that coats the plastic vibrator. 

“You taste so fucking good,” he growls, staring you in the eyes for a moment full of tension.

Then he flips you around, pushing at your back so your chest is pressed to the wall of the stall.

“Spread your legs for me, princess,” he instructs.

You do as you’re told, and he rubs the tip of his cock along your pussy lips a moment later. You moan around the vibrator, closing your eyes. 

God, you need to be filled so fucking bad-

“Always so wet for me,” Hyuck murmurs by your ear, his mouth teasing past your throat. “You came what? Five times on my bike? Six? You’re gonna give me one more.”

He pushes his cock into your wet hole, bottoming out immediately while your toes curl in your shoes, your nails clawing against the plastic wall of the stall.

“So fucking tight,” he groans, digging his fingers into your hips. 

“So fucking big,” you retort, and it’s true. Hyuck is around 5’9, maybe 5’10 or 5’11 on a good day in his work boots- but where he’s lacking - arguably - in height, he makes up for in cock. He’s probably around seven, seven and a half inches. And he’s girthy too, stretching out your tight pussy in a way a vibrator only wishes it could.

This is what you’ve been needing for over an hour.

All the toys in the world, but nothing, nothing, is like Hyuck’s cock. He sure as hell knows how to use it.  

Hyuck begins to rut into you, lips hot against your throat. The layers of leather covering your form are making you sweat, but then again, you’ve been sweating since that first orgasm. You can’t even bring yourself to care about the uncomfortable nature of this, because you’ve been desperate for Hyuck, and nothing is going to tear you away from this experience.

Nothing-

Except the sound of the bathroom door opening.

Hyuck freezes momentarily, then he slaps his hand over your mouth, muffling the sounds that have been escaping past the vibrator.

He picks up where he left off, railing into you even harder while your eyes roll back into your head.

Fuck, at this point, you feel like you’re possessed, spiritually, and physically.

No other man in your life has ever tempted you to be in a situation like this one, but Hyuck’s nothing if not a guy who broadens your horizons.

“You two are such animals.”

John’s voice makes your skin tingle, your eyes opening. You turn your head, meeting Hyuck’s gaze behind you. He only laughs. “Easy for you to say old man,” he calls.

“A vibrator in your girl’s pussy during ride night,” you can practically hear John shaking his head, “funny, I never thought of that.”

“Do you have something to say to me, or did you come just to chat and listen to my girl get railed?” Hyuck asks, irritation and amusement laced in his words.

“I got to watch her cum on your bike a couple of times, she wasn’t exactly subtle about it, I figure, might as well have some audio to burn into my memory too.”

Fucking hell.

Your pussy clenches desperately around Hyuck, and he laughs, kissing your throat.

“Oddly enough, John, I think my princess is into that. Open your mouth baby, let’s give John the vibrator to hold onto for now.”

You do as you’re told, spitting the toy into Hyuck’s hand and staring at him with a question in your eyes.

“You stay right here,” Hyuck instructs, pressing his hand to the back of your head to force your face against the wall. His motions have stopped, and he reaches behind himself to open the door. From the angle of where you are against the stall, John can’t see you, all he can do is reach in and accept the vibrator from your boyfriend. “Clean that off for me, will ya?”

You hear Johnny chuckle to himself, and then Hyuck’s locking the door again.

“Okay, baby, no need to hold back now. Put on a show for John, I know you want to.”

The first whimper that escapes you makes you claw at the wall, pressing your forehead against the cold plastic. Your eyes close, your teeth gnawing at your lip.

“Are you…” you swallow thickly, stifling a moan. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“Why wouldn’t I be, princess? It’s only John.”

“Fuck-” you whine as Hyuck reaches around your front, his fingers toying with your clit. 

“You always told me you had a thing for older men. Said I wasn’t your usual type- not daddy enough for you, well, here you go, baby. Let daddy hear you moan for my cock.” 

You seriously can’t believe this is happening. All you can do is try to relax while Hyuck fucks you stupid in some dive bar bathroom stall, your core still throbbing and desperate after six orgasms from a vibrator while on his bike. The fingers on your oversensitive bud are unrelenting, just like your boyfriend, and at this point, you can’t even bring yourself to care that his ride night dad is listening in, only a few feet away. 

“You sound so pretty, princess, show John how pretty you sound, stop holding back.”

Hyuck begins to suck on your sweet spot, and you gasp loudly, eyes closing. Each thrust of his hips has his cock hitting a place deep inside of you, making your toes curl. Then he pinches your clit, and you suck in a strangled breath.

“Want you to cum for me, baby, show us that you’re a good girl.”

“Hyuck-”

“Now’s not the time to talk.” His free hand wraps around your throat, and you shiver with anticipation. “Good girls listen to their boyfriends, don’t they princess?”

When he squeezes your neck, your core throbs, and a few more circles of your aching clit has you seeing stars. You let out a strangled gasp, grabbing at Hyuck’s tattooed wrist, keeping his hand around your throat while your pussy clenches tight on his cock, your orgasm washing over you like a waterfall.

“That’s it, princess,” Hyuck coos. “And you’re going to take every drop of my cum too, right? I know how much you love being full.”

“Please-” you whimper.

“Fuck.” You hear John groan just outside the stall, and another wave of pleasure erupts through you, goosebumps fleckling along your flesh. You’re delirious at this point, overcome by the high that’s tearing through every fiber of your being.

“Okay, princess, I’m there- take it, take it-” Hyuck squeezes your throat even tighter, and you gasp when you feel his cock twitch inside of you, filling you up with warmth while his hips stutter with effort.

“Hyuck-” you whimper, beginning to struggle in his grasp.

He releases your neck, tilting your head so he can lean over your shoulder and press his hot lips against your own, tongue invading your mouth while he finishes.

You’re both gasping by the time he stills inside of you. He rests his forehead against your own, breathing deeply and looking at you under heavy lids.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he whispers, pressing a shockingly chaste kiss to your lips.

Hyuck pulls away, helping you sit down onto the toilet so his cum doesn’t get on your clothes. He quickly wipes his cock. “We’ll give you some privacy,” he winks, exiting the stall. “Come on, John.”

Both men leave, and you’re free to pee in peace, trying to catch your breath.

When you’re finished up in the bathroom, you find Hyuck waiting right outside. His arm slings around your shoulder and he leads you onto the covered patio where everyone is already seated and enjoying drinks.

John waves the two of you over to a table, and you find it difficult to meet his gaze when you sit down.

It’s clear from the way John and Hyuck dive into a conversation with one of their friends that neither of them intend to discuss what just happened, and that’s fine by you. There’s always another time, and there’s always another ride night. 

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! He's never going to see this, but I just wanted to gush for a moment about how much I appreciate my significant other. For years, being a fanfic writer has been a touchy subject with prospective partners, but my boyfriend right now is so stupidly supportive of what I do here on Tumblr. I'm so blessed at all the ideas he's given me since we started dating, and this fic is just one of the many ways I've been able to creatively interpret aspects of our relationship into fiction so we can all enjoy even a slice of the joy that he gives me every day.

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🔮 preview. “You’ve been good, cum for your boyfriend, bet he’ll love it when you make a mess on his tongue.” John is so suave- he knows exactly what to say, exactly how to be respectful but still an active verbal participant while Hyuck takes you to the edge. The combination of dirty talk and Hyuck’s motions on your pussy have you clamping down with a whine, your muscles clenching hard around Hyuck’s fingers while you cum.

cw/ tw. Vibrating anal plug while on a Harley, exhibitionism, voyeurism, threesome, unprotected sex, protected sex, double penetration (cock & fingers), anal, dirty talk, praise, spitting, pussy eating, multiple reader orgasms, dom/sub dynamic, hand job,  etc…   I petnames. (hers) Princess, baby. (Hyuck’s)  master. (John’s) daddy.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.9k I teaser wc. 240

🌙 starring. Hyuck & Johnny x afab!Reader

bonus

Riding with a toy inside your pussy is one thing, but riding with a butt plug is an entirely other arena of sensation. It’s been two months since your first ride night, and in those months, you and Hyuck have discussed allowing Johnny to join you for some fun. Hyuck had only agreed if he would have complete control, and part of that control, is stretching you out like this.

The worst part is they’re not even going to fuck you at the bar. No, you’re going to be wearing this plug for hours, and only after everything is finished, will you be heading to John’s for the final pleasure of the night.

Hyuck had also chosen to give you a vibrating plug, and for the ride there, he’d kept control of it, but at the bar, that had all changed. Sat between Johnny and Hyuck the two had passed the remote back and forth discreetly, and whenever the plug would jump inside of you, your head would be whipping to figure out who had decided to tease you.

You’re accepting a glass of beer from the waitress when the plug begins to vibrate, and you nearly spill your drink all over yourself. First, your eyes shift to Hyuck, only to find his hands on the table, which means the culprit is John.

He flashes you a wink, and you think you might just die here and now.

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[speaknow-sw]

𝑺𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑺𝒊𝒍𝒌

Summary : When your car broke down in the middle of 1950s Texas, you welcome with pleasure the help of a handsome cowboy.

Word count : 2.4k

Ｃｏｎｔｅｎｔ: mdni, 1950s AU, Cowboy! Anakin, Ditzy!, Wealthy! Reader, surnames (doll, peach, dollie,), kissing, vaginal fingering, brief pussy-eating, PiV, breeding kink, wife kink, mentions of grooming, pregnancy kink ?

AN : Okay so I got that AU in my head since FOREVER. That damn picture of Hayden with the Stetson got me ruining so many panties. Here’s a tribute to all the Cowboy delulu wifeys. Hope you’ll enjoy !!!

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the vast Texas plains. The air was thick with the scent of wild grass and the distant hum of cicadas. You, a city girl from New York, had never seen anything like it. The endless stretch of land, so different from the concrete jungle you were used to, was both beautiful and intimidating.

You had been on your way to visit a distant relative’s ranch, a place you’d never been before, when your car—an elegant, shiny Cadillac that was far too fancy for these dusty roads—had sputtered and died in the middle of nowhere. Now, here you were, miles from the nearest town, with no idea what to do.

Your pretty summer dress, all ruffles and soft pastels, was completely out of place here, with the silk scarf wrapped around your head to protect your hair from the burning sun. Your designer heels were sinking into the dirt with every step you took around the car, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. You were lost, both literally and figuratively, your usual confidence shaken by the vastness of this wild, untamed place.

As you leaned against the car, biting your lip in frustration, the sound of hooves reached your ears. You looked up, shielding your eyes from the sun, and saw a figure on horseback approaching from the distance.

As the rider drew closer, you could make out more details—tall, broad-shouldered, with a wide-brimmed Stetson casting a shadow over his face. His horse was a magnificent creature, all muscle and grace, moving with the kind of power that took your breath away.

When he finally stopped a few feet away from you, you got your first real look at him. The man was strikingly handsome, with sandy blonde hair that curled under his hat and deep blue eyes that seemed to see right through you. He was dressed in a simple white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal strong, tanned forearms, and worn jeans that clung to his legs in a way that made your heart race.

“Well, now, what’s a pretty little thing like you doin’ all the way out here ?” he drawled, his voice low and smooth, with just the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

You blinked up at him, momentarily lost for words. He was so different from the men you were used to—polished, city types in sharp suits and shiny shoes. This man was raw and rugged, with a presence that seemed to command the very air around him.

“My car…” you started, feeling a little foolish under his steady gaze. “It just… stopped. I don’t know what to do.”

He dismounted with an easy grace, the muscles in his arms flexing as he swung down from the saddle. As he approached, you could feel the heat radiating from his body, mixing with the warmth of the sun. He looked over the car, his expression thoughtful, before turning back to you.

“Well, I ain’t no mechanic, but I can take a look, dollie,” he offered, his tone kind but with an undercurrent of amusement, as if he found your predicament both endearing and a little amusing.

“Thank you,” you murmured, stepping aside to let him take a look under the hood. As he worked, you couldn’t help but watch him, the way his fingers deftly moved over the engine, the way his shirt clung to the muscles of his back as he leaned over.

After a few minutes, he straightened up, wiping his hands on a rag he’d pulled from his back pocket. “Looks like you’ve got a busted radiator, peach. You won’t be goin’ anywhere until it’s fixed.”

Your heart sank at his words. “Oh no, what am I going to do ?”

He glanced up at the sky, which was beginning to turn shades of pink and orange as the sun dipped lower. “It’s gettin’ late. Best thing would be to come back to my place. It ain’t too far, and you can stay the night. I’ll take a look at your car in the morning, doll, see what can be done.”

You hesitated for a moment, the idea of staying with a stranger making you nervous, but there was something about him—something solid and trustworthy—that made you nod in agreement. “Alright, thank you, cowboy. I really appreciate it.”

He gave you a nod and helped you up onto his horse, his hands firm and steady as they gripped your waist. You settled into the saddle, feeling a bit awkward, but his presence behind you was reassuring.

As you rode through the fields, the wind gently tugging at your hair, you couldn’t help but lean back against him, the warmth of his body seeping into yours. His arm was wrapped around you, holding the reins, and you could feel the strength in him, the quiet confidence that seemed to radiate from every part of him. 

Suddenly your silk scarf escaped from your head and you gasped. A strong hand latched backwards and caught the fabric. The cowboy winked at you and pocketed your scarf not without smelling it beforehand, leaving you speechless.

When you finally arrived at his ranch, the sky was a deep indigo, the stars just beginning to twinkle above. The house was a charming, rustic place, with a wide porch and warm, inviting lights glowing from the windows.

He helped you down from the horse, his hands lingering on your waist for just a moment longer than necessary, sending a thrill through you. As you stepped inside, you were greeted by the cozy warmth of the living room, the scent of wood and leather filling the air.

“You can make yourself at home,” he said, his voice softer now, almost intimate. “I’ll get you somethin’ to drink.”

You nodded, wandering over to the fireplace, your fingers lightly brushing over the mantel as you took in the room. When he returned, he handed you a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid glinting in the firelight.

As you took a sip, the warmth of the alcohol spread through you, mixing with the heat that had been steadily building inside you since the moment he’d appeared on that dusty road. You coughed your lungs out at the burn.

“I never did catch your name,” you said, looking up at him over the rim of your glass.

“Name’s Anakin,” he replied, his eyes locked onto yours. “Anakin Skywalker.”

You smiled, the name fitting him perfectly. “Thank you again, Anakin. For helping me.”

He took a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “It’s my pleasure, darlin’. Can’t leave a lady in distress.”

There was a charged silence between you, the air thick with something unspoken. You could feel the tension building, a magnetic pull that drew you closer to him, your heart pounding in your chest.

Before you knew it, he was right in front of you, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. His touch was warm, his thumb brushing over your skin in a way that made your breath catch.

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low and rough, filled with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine.

You could only nod, your voice failing you as you lost yourself in the intensity of his gaze.

And then he was kissing you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and demanding. It was like nothing you’d ever experienced before—raw, passionate, and filled with a desire that made your head spin.

You melted into him, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the solid muscles beneath his shirt. He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you, holding you against him as the kiss deepened.

His hands moved to the small of your back, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between you. You could feel the hard lines of his body against yours, the heat of his skin seeping through his shirt, igniting a fire in you that you hadn’t even realized was there.

You gasped as his lips moved to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made your knees weak, his stubble scratching deliciously against your throat. His hands were everywhere, sliding down your back, over your hips, exploring every inch of you with a hunger that matched your own.

“Anakin…” you breathed, your fingers tangling in his hair as he pressed you against the wall, his body pinning you there with a strength that made your pulse race.

“Shh,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low growl. “I’ve gotcha’, darlin’. Jus’ let me take care of ya’.”

And take care of you he did. He lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bedroom, where he laid you down on the soft, inviting bed. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, casting everything in a warm, golden light.

He stood above you for a moment, his eyes dark and intense as he took in the sight of you, his chest rising and falling with deep, steady breaths. And then he was on you, his hands and lips exploring every inch of your body, igniting a fire in you that burned hotter with every touch, every kiss.

Anakin's kisses trailed down your neck, his hands sliding over your dress, finding the zipper at the back. With a smooth motion, he pulled it down, the fabric slipping off your shoulders, exposing the delicate lace of your lingerie. His breath hitched at the sight, his eyes darkening with desire.

"Pretty, lil’ angel," he whispered, his voice husky as his fingers traced the outline of your bra, making your skin tingle. His lips followed the path of his hands, pressing hot kisses along your collarbone, down to the swell of your breasts, until you were arching into him, desperate for more.

You tugged at his shirt, your fingers fumbling with the buttons in your eagerness to feel his skin against yours. He chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine, before he helped you, shrugging out of the shirt and tossing it aside.

The sight of him, all hard muscles and golden skin, took your breath away. His chest was broad, his abs defined, and you couldn’t resist running your hands over his torso, feeling the heat and power of him beneath your fingertips.

He groaned at your touch, his hands slipping under your bra, pushing it up to free your breasts. His mouth was on you in an instant, his tongue teasing your nipple, sending jolts of pleasure through you that had you gasping his name.

His hands were everywhere, sliding down your sides, over your hips, pushing your dress the rest of the way off until you were lying there in nothing but your panties. He paused for a moment, just looking at you, his eyes roaming over your body with a hunger that made your skin flush with heat.

Then he was kissing you again, his mouth claiming yours in a kiss that was all-consuming, his hands sliding down to your thighs, spreading them apart as he settled between them. You could feel the hardness of him pressing against you, the evidence of his desire making you ache with need.

"Anakin," you breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation as he kissed his way down your body, his hands hooking into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down with a slow, deliberate motion that left you trembling with anticipation.

He kissed the inside of your thighs, his stubble grazing your sensitive skin, making you shiver. And then his mouth was on you, his tongue stroking over your most sensitive spot, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you that made you cry out, your fingers gripping the sheets beneath you.

He didn’t stop, his tongue and fingers working together to drive you higher and higher, until you were teetering on the edge, your body strung tight with need. And then he was inside you, filling you completely, his hips moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm that had you moaning his name, your nails digging into his back. « Gonna make you a mommy, » he grunted, biting your throat. His hands gripped your waist tightly probably letting bruises. He swallowed the sweet skin of your cleavage in his mouth, suckling hickeys and pressing hot, tongue kisses on your chair. « My sweet little wife, gonna drag you on the aisle, » he pounded harder in you, his large cock reducing you at a doll-like state, your cock drunk face driving his crazy. « You’ll gimme babies, huh ? As much babies as I want. Gonna keep you round and full of me. Mine. My wife, the mother of my children. » his thrusts got sloppy and his face contorted in a mask of need.

The pleasure built and built, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until it snapped, sending you spiraling into an orgasm so intense it left you shaking, your body clinging to his as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. You screamed your release, arching your back and curling your toes.

Anakin followed you over the edge, his own release spilling deep into you as he groaned your name, his body tensing above you before he collapsed, pulling you into his arms as you both lay there, breathing hard, your bodies tangled together in the aftermath. 

The night was a blur of passion and desire, a heady mix of pleasure and sensation that left you breathless and yearning for more. Anakin moved with a confidence that only came from someone who knew exactly what he wanted, and he made sure you knew it too. He took his time with you, savoring every moment, every gasp and moan that fell from your lips. He pushed you to the edge again and again, his touch driving you wild, until you finally tumbled over, your body arching into his as you were consumed by the pleasure that only he could give you. You couldn’t count how much time he made you cum and came himself but you sure knew your belly wasn’t this bloated when you started.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the only sound in the room the crackling of the fire and the soft rustle of the sheets as you settled into the warmth of each other’s embrace. Then he kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there as he murmured, "I knew you were somethin’ special, doll."

You smiled, a lazy, satisfied smile as you snuggled closer to him, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest. "I guess I’ll have to find more reasons to get stranded in Texas," you teased, your voice soft and content, the Stetson since forgotten on the floor.

The End…

[bunny-jpeg]

the cost of what is to come, max v.- you felt anxious, beyond anxious. the type of anxiety that seemed to tighten your throat and made every nerve feel hyper active. especially knelt there on the bed, waiting.

"you've been quite the bad girl." max's voice was honey in your head. you watched him reach for you, his hand on your jaw ever so delicately, "but that's good for you. because i quite enjoy breaking stubborn girls." and you watched him lick his top lip, something shuddered inside of you.

there were boys, and there were men. and then there was max verstappen.

the kisses trailed from your shoulder to your jaw to your mouth. his lips captured yourself and you reached out to touch him. but before you should hold onto his shoulders. he snatched you by the wrists and broke the kiss.

"tsk, tsk, tsk." he said lowly, "i own you, you don't own me." his blue eyes gleamed with something that made your stomach twist. he gave a smile at you, "i get to touch what it mine. you signed over that a long time ago."

a series of bets and a mounting metaphorical debt. max pushed you to be the best mechanic and you pushed him to make your services worth it. and as he racked up points and trophies, he only became more and more a part of your life. redbull's plucky little mechanic, turned a stress toy for the four time world champion. you whined and he shut you up with another kiss.

already nude, he laid you out on the bed. his t-shirt off over his head. his gaze hungry on you. he never considered himself a gambling man except when it came to risky moves on the track. but you were the best gamble he ever made. he could only let out a small groan as you undid his expensive belt. as he got his jeans off, he captured your lips once more. he pinned you down onto the plush bed further. he pressed his weight against you and rubbed his barely clothed cock up against you. the kisses were feverish, he wanted you. he wanted you badly.

you had been on his mind for hours now, the post-race press conference went by so slowly when he knew you were tending to his car. your baby as you called it. well maybe it was time to give you an actual baby. his baby. he peeled off his briefs. you got a good look at his cock and you swallowed at the sight of him. so powerful on top of you, his expression was near unreadable. but you felt a slight bit of fear in your soul. max could be scary. a lion had two sides after all. the relaxed creature and the hunter, both with their own aura of dominating power. he took you by the hips and brushed his cock up against you. you swallowed and arched your back a little.

"be loud." he said, "no one can hear you. i don't think anyone would care to hear you. but not me, i love hearing those noises you make." he said as he sank his cock into you. you let out a squeak-like moan and it just shook max to his core.

he loved the sight of your soft breasts slightly bounce with each of his his thrusts. he eyed your form up and down, admired every inch of skin. he wanted to mark you up. he wanted to cover every inch of skin in his affection, his devotion.

he wanted to scare off every son of a bitch on the grid, from team principals to engineers to the drivers. max might have to get a little creative over the holidays to figure out how to keep you from slipping between his fingers. he felt the hunger in his jaw, down to the bone. in his teeth, he wanted to leave heavy hickies on your skin. he wanted to make your neck a masterpiece of his design. he held onto you hips tighter, lifted your hips a little to get a better angle. he let out a heavy groan at the sensation of you. you felt like a dream, he fucked you the way he drove cars. with a certain level of skill that had you quivering. needy for more.

that was how he was able to interweave himself into your life so tightly. become a fabric of your reality and leave you panting for more. he exhaled deeply, his cheeks grew slightly pink from the feeling of it all, "you feel amazing. you always feel amazing. you have no idea what you do to me. you've changed me, and i think it's only fair that i get to change you." cryptic were his words, but they left you moaning, pathetic little pants as he fucked you roughly.

you made him a champion, now he was going to make you a bride.

trade the coveralls for a white dress, and the grime under your nails for a shiny diamond ring. he was sickeningly obsessed with you, he wanted to be entrenched in your world that he could never leave or fear that everything would collapse. he worked his hips against yours and took in the sight of your beauty as he fucked you with heavy strokes.

"please, max." you said pathetically as he continued to fuck you. his movements quick and hit in all the right places. you held onto the hotel sheets under you and let him have his wicked way with you. you couldn't help yourself. you knew were so past the line of professionalism and there was no turning back. even if you wanted to, you knew deep down there was zero chance in hell that max would ever let you slip away. not when your entire being pulled him in. he wanted you often, he wanted you in ways that would scare most. it was a deep throb in you that left you yearning for him. it was why you worked on his cars so well and why you let him strip you down and take you apart after every race.

why his words seem to float in your head as he worked your achy cunt to a full hot bliss. he groaned and you whimpered. he leaned forward and you grasped his shoulders, this time he let you touch him. your lips collided and max continued to fuck you. he continued to stretch your cunt perfectly for him. you gave him everything and he in turn would give you everything. the luxury, the wealth, the baby and the last name.

"you sound beautiful when you say my name. it sounds right on your mouth." he licked his lips as he continued to bully his cock inside of you. he felt your cunt clench around him as he worked against you. he made a nice mess of your pretty pussy. not that anyone else was going to be touching it, not while he was still upright and breathing. he went in for another searing kiss. his pace started to stagger.

his thrusts became erratic and his mind only focused on one thing. filling you until there was no room left. you were perfect, the mechanic who could save redbull. too bad you wouldn't have a lengthy career. max doesn't want you out of his grasp, at most an arm's length. you didn't need to worry about money or anything, max had enough for you, him and your growing family. and that lingering through made him fuck you faster and harder.

the bed hit against the wall as he hit against the right spots, as he watched you shudder and arch your back. his pants were heavy as he eyed the sharp rise and fall of your chest. it was a heated affair, one that max would add to the long list of other times he fucked you into a total submission.

"you drive me crazy."

"please, max." you tried not to be too loud. he captured your lips once more and you clenched around him. your nails dug into his shoulders as he worked you slick cunt. the thrum of pleasure in your core went to your brain. and soon enough you finished. you moaned into his mouth as he just shuddered against you.

his movements only got faster and he tensed up around you. he pressed into you further and with a few more heavy, heated thrusts he finished inside of you. he looked you in the eyes as he finished, his expression shifted as he came. his eyes closed for a moment as he rode out his climax.

"fuck... there we go." he groaned as he relaxed a little bit. he looked at you once more and kissed you deeply. worth it, it was all worth it. he held you face for a moment.

you looked at him with a blissed out expression. and like a good girl (that max knew you were) you nodded, "yes, max."

afterwards he held you, his grip on you was a little tighter. he kissed you neck softly and watched you breathe heavily. he wasn't done with you yet, not quite. he whispered in your ear as he held you from behind.

"it's the end of the season, my dear. why don't you come home with me? i'll show you all that monaco has to offer, and maybe we'll make another deal. if i don't get you pregnant by the new year, you can stay with the team. but if you do, you become my wife." <3

[v-o-i-d-e-d]

Spock x reader

Could you please do. 5 times Spock caught the reader from falling +1 time he didn't. Reader gets really hurt but no death. Just hurt/comfort please✨

Of course I will do this for you! I hope you don't mind I shortened it a little for the sake of my word count. (It's already too long) But the premise is the same!

Warnings: reader is very clumsy, blood, brief description of a burn, language and I think that's it!

Word Count: 3,351 (buckle up)

Let me know if you guys want a part 2 to this one, I feel like it has tha kind of potential 👀

Allow the Ground to Find its Brutal Way to Me - Spock x Reader

1.

               The first time Ensign (Y/N) met Spock was an accident. She was supposed to be in the engine room – as per her engineering status – but instead, she was hiding away in the lounge. Most of her daily work was finished anyway, she could stand to take a break and catch up on her reading. However, just as she had reached a particularly exciting part of her book, her communicator crackled to life and Scotty’s voice filled the once peaceful silence.

               “(L/N), I need you to return to the engine room. I need your help repairing a minor issue with the hyperdrive.”

               The thought of ignoring the call crossed her mind but then so did the thought of losing her job,

               “On my way.”

               With a defeated sigh, (Y/N) marked her page and left the lounge. As the door hissed open, she stepped out without looking and bumped harshly into someone. (Y/N) and the stranger tottered for a moment before they both stabilized.

               “Sorry-“

               “Apologies-“

               Commander Spock was admittedly distracted by his datapad when he heard the lounge door open. He had looked up a bit too late and walked straight into the woman walking out of the room. After their quick apologies, the young ensign left without introduction. Spock had never seen her before and upon noting her red dress surmised that she worked primarily in the engine room. He let out a short hum as he continued on his path toward the bridge, this time making sure to keep his eyes on the hallway.

2.

               Over the next few months, (Y/N) and Spock saw a lot more of each other. Whether it was a coincidence or fate (Y/N) did not care she was just glad it happened. The two have many things in common such as a love for reading, art, and history. (Y/N) had become quite fond of her commanding officer and upon that realization, the thought of losing her job crossed her mind once again. The door to the Bridge hissed open and she walked as gracefully as she could beside Scotty as they entered for their weekly report. Supposedly, this ritual was so that Captain Kirk could be kept in the loop about any problems we may be having down in the engine room but (Y/N) was starting to think that it was simply a way for Kirk and Scotty to chat. For about five minutes the two men had a serious conversation, and then it transitioned into a more friendly and less important one that (Y/N) tuned out of. 

Spock noticed her as soon as she stepped onto the Bridge. Her hair was pulled away from her face today - she must have been doing mechanical work. He recalled her mentioning that she doesn’t like pulling her hair up because it gives her a headache. 

“...so I only pull it up when I have to. Don’t want it to get in the way while I’m neck deep in a turbine of something.”

The Vulcan huffed a breath through his nose that almost resembled a chuckle at the memory. Spock looked back toward (Y/N) at the sound of her laughter. Her lips curled in a lopsided grin and her cheeks flushed a pretty pink color as she waved off whatever it was Kirk had said to make her laugh. Spock’s brown eyes stared intently at (Y/N)’s face. She was a very beautiful woman - it would be illogical for him to deny that - but it was not practical to dwell on those thoughts so he begrudgingly looked back down at his work. 

(Y/N) had sneaked what she thought were subtle glances toward the Vulcan. How could she not? But apparently, the glances were not subtle enough to go undetected by Captain Kirk who had connected her gaze with his second in command. 

“Spock? Really? Come on, of all the men on board,” Kirk scoffed. 

(Y/N) looked down at her shoes feeling a bit caught and murmured, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Scotty and Kirk exchanged knowing glances and Kirk reached out and tapped (Y/N) on the shoulder, “Hey, do you think Vulcans get jealous? I think we should test it out and call it a science experiment.”

(Y/N) couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up at the notion. She waved off the suggestion and shook her head in disbelief. “You are unbelievable. Can I be dismissed? I do have a job to complete.” 

Kirk nodded and sent her away with a smile. She was relieved to be out of that situation and made her way back toward the elevator which just so happened to lead her right past a certain Vulcan. He looked up as she walked past and she waved and smiled. He nodded back. Unfortunately for (Y/N)’s confidence, she happened to walk a bit too close to the control table Spock was standing behind and managed to knock her hip into it hard enough for her to stumble. Spock quickly reached out and grabbed her bicep so she wouldn’t fall and (Y/N) gave him a sheepish grin. 

“Whoops,” she chuckled as she straightened herself up. “My clumsiness strikes again.” She chuckled to herself as she left the room. 

3.

(Y/N)’s palms were sweaty as she quickly swiped them against her uniform. Her eyes flicked between the aliens in front of her and Kirk. She had been part of a group that was meant to explore a newly found planet, however, the locals were not as accepting as the captain had anticipated. Normally, (Y/N) would not be involved in such missions but much to her annoyance the people on this planet spoke a dialect close enough to a language she knew to make her a valuable translator. The mood was quite tense as she stood in between the two groups. The aliens had just told Kirk that if they did not leave the planet soon, they would be punished.

“Punished how?” Kirk asked her. She cringed.

“I’d rather not repeat that one. Just know the description was very graphic and I think we should follow their direction.”

Kirk rolled his shoulders back and narrowed his eyes. “How about a bargain?” 

(Y/N) hesitated before relaying the question to the lead alien. The alien paused before allowing Kirk to elaborate. 

“You keep a member of our crew until we’re done with analysis and then we will come back for them when we leave. No more than 24 hours.”

Spock, who had remained silent by Kirk’s side grabbed the captain’s shoulder, “This is not a good idea. We don’t know how they treat prisoners here. You could be putting one of the crew members in danger.” 

“Relax. We’ll send one of the officers with them. They have training to withstand or escape if necessary. I know what I’m doing, Spock.

(Y/N) had relayed the proposition and the aliens turned to each other to deliberate. (Y/N) shifted on her feet and looked over at Spock with a wary expression. She said nothing but Spock understood: Whatever the aliens were saying wasn’t good. After a few moments, the aliens gave their response. As they spoke, (Y/N)’s eyes widened. When the aliens finished, she turned to Kirk and cleared her throat. 

“They say that they accept your bargain as long as they get to choose who stays.”

“Fine. Who do they want?”

“Me.”

A long pause. Kirk could feel Spock’s glare burning into the back of his head and chose not to cast a glance in his direction. “No.”

“It does make the most sense. I’m the only one who can speak to them and it’s only for a day. Who knows, maybe they’ll tell me stuff about their people.” (Y/N) could not believe she was advocating for herself to be a prisoner of some strange race but she just didn’t want shooting to start. 

Kirk finally cast a sidelong glance to his second in command who was already looking at him with an unreadable expression. Spock simply nodded. He couldn’t deny the logic. While she was there she could act as an ambassador on behalf of Star Fleet. 

“Fine” Kirk nodded and immediately (Y/N) was taken by the arms in a firm grip. She yelped in surprise and forced her legs to cooperate as she was led away from her group. 

“I guess the 24 hours starts now!” She said over her shoulder as she was led back toward the little village the aliens came from. 

Data gathering and analysis had never gone quicker. Everyone on the ground crew worked overtime through the night to gather as much as they could in the short time they were given. To say Spock was nervous would be a bit of an understatement. Anytime his hands were not occupied by work he would be picking his cuticles raw at the thought of (Y/N) stuck in that village. He was not optimistic, but Kirk reminded him that the aliens may not be hostile toward her. Spock often forgot that possibility. The group stood at the edge of the village just as the 24 hours were up. Much to Spock’s relief, (Y/N) was being led over to them unharmed. She was held firmly by the arm just as she had been yesterday but she seemed much less nervous today. 

“You okay?” Kirk asked when she was standing across from him 

“Yeah, I’m fine. They want to know if you have what you came for.”

Kirk nodded and, as if on cue, the alien holding (Y/N) pushed her forward. It wasn’t a particularly hard push, however, (Y/N) was not expecting the sudden forward momentum and tripped over her own feet. Spock, who stood once again at Kirk’s side, stepped forward and allowed (Y/N) to fall into him so she wouldn't hit the ground. The Ensign’s fingers softly gripped into Spock’s forearms and she straightened herself, murmuring a thanks under her breath. 

“Let’s head back to the ship.” She said grabbing both Spock and Kirk by the arm and leading the group away from the watching aliens. 

1. 

The only lights in the engine room were the red flashing emergency lights. The zap of electricity was heard from frayed or snapped wires and steam blew from busted pipes. (Y/N) had her hair messily pulled from her face and sweat dripping down the back of her neck as she gritted her teeth. She was clinging tightly to a pipe close to the hyperdrive with a tool in hand attempting to fix the catastrophic problem that had come from a too close encounter with the Klingons. The Enterprise groaned and tilted causing (Y/N) to hold tighter to her only anchor. The tool fell from her hand as she squeezed her eyes shut. When she didn’t hear the clang of the metal tool hitting the floor for several seconds she suddenly realized how far off the ground she really was. She had already climbed several feet up the scaffolding before the ship tilted, but now even if she tried to drop to the floor she would begin falling toward the wall. The ship was almost completely on its side and there was no way she would survive a fall from where she was. 

“Shit, shit, shit!” (Y/N) whined as she willed her aching arms and legs to stay wrapped around the pipe. The metal beneath her hands quivered and clicked as pressure built up in the pipe. (Y/N) looked around for something, anything, that she could grab to move away from this pipe which felt like it was going to burst at any time. 

“Ensign (Y/N)?” Someone shouted her name but she couldn’t see where they were standing. 

“Help! I’m definitely stuck!” She shouted at the top of her lungs, hoping the person could pinpoint her location. There was a pause and then the sound of something exploding and crackling with electricity. 

“I can’t use the walkway, the ship has tilted too far and the alternative route has just been…obstructed.”

It was Spock! (Y/N) could have cried from relief even though he was telling her he couldn’t get to her. Something about knowing he was there with her made her a little less afraid. She took a deep breath and looked around again. This time for a way for Spock. She saw one on the North side of the room. It was just level enough that if He came through that door, he could carefully walk toward where she was. There was just one problem. 

“I see another way but,” (Y/N) let out a breathy, humorless chuckle, “You’re going to have to come in from the North hallway.”

Spock blinked in his spot against the wall. The ship shuddered and he stabilized himself with his hands. He heard (Y/N) gasp but didn’t hear anything else. The North Hall was all the way on the other side. He would have to backtrack and go around and who knows the state of that side of the ship. 

“That- that may not work.” 

“I know but there’s no other good way in.” (Y/N) could feel her arms tiring. If something didn’t change soon, she was going to fall. She felt her stomach sink at the thought. 

Spock didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t see (Y/N) so he had no idea what kind of state she was in. He swore under his breath. It didn’t matter. The only way to possibly help her was to go to the other side. If she sounded that calm, she must believe she’ll be okay long enough for him to make it. 

“I’m going around. I swear I will come to get you just stay where you are.” Before she could answer he was gone.

(Y/N) sighed and briefly rested her forehead on the warmed metal. “God, you have no idea how difficult that’s going to be.” 

She didn’t know how long she had been hanging there, but it felt like forever. Every few moments the ship would groan and shift and it was getting increasingly hard to stay on the pipe. (Y/N) felt her eyes sting with unwanted tears as her limbs grew numb. She grunted as she tried to adjust her grip. She bit back a sob. The metal was getting warmer. Air was compressing on the inside and pressure was building. At any moment it would- another awful groan, then a hiss and a loud crack as the metal in front of her chest broke open. (Y/N) screamed as hot steam hit her. Her arms and legs finally lost grip as the shock of the pain ran through her body. Another blood-curdling scream ripped itself from her throat as she fell from the pipe, quickly plummeting toward the far wall below her. When the hard material met her back, the air left her lungs as she gurgled on the fluid bubbling up in her throat, and just as the sensation of the pain of her fall crept in, the darkness in the corner of her vision overcame her. 

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)!” 

The sound was very faint but it was unmistakable. It was Spock calling her name. Her eyes were stubbornly refusing to open and the rest of her body felt numb but she could hear him getting closer. She noted through hazy sensation that she was lying on her side. The ship must have shifted again. Hands were on her. She couldn’t tell where but she knew the familiar pressure of Spock’s grip on her. A gurgling sound came from her as she was carefully turned over. 

Blood lazily drooled from her lips and her head flopped lazily to the side. She looked dead, Spock thought as he searched for a pulse. His eyes burned with unshed tears but he couldn't let himself feel at that moment. He had to focus on getting (Y/N) out. Like he promised. However weak it was, the pulse he felt beneath his fingers overwhelmed him. 

“(Y/N), can you hear me?” 

Yes. 

He got no response. Spock looked her over once again before gently scooping her up into his arms. It was as he walked toward the - now clear - exit of the engine room that he let his eyes roam the large burn on her upper chest. Parts of her uniform had been melted against her skin and some of the skin had started to blister. Spock tore his eyes away. He couldn’t stand to look. “I am going to get you out of here.” He said to her, but it was him who needed the reassurance. 

Burning. That’s the first thing (Y/N) smelled. As if someone were burning meat. It was to her horror as she opened her eyes and focused on her surroundings that the smell was coming from her own body. Despite her panic, she didn’t have the energy to move but, as she looked around at the infirmary she was in, her body decided that she had the energy to cry. Silent tears streamed down her face as she tried to make some kind of noise. To her left, the heart monitor began to rapidly beep in accordance to her rising heart rate which caused two people to come rushing into the room: Dr. Bones and Spock. Their presence told (Y/N) that she must be in a Star Fleet infirmary, maybe even still on the ship. Bones began to fuss over her, checking her vitals and talking to her in a soft but stern tone, 

“What the hell were you thinkin’ staying in the engine room? You were supposed to evacuate with everyone else.”

Obviously, Bones didn’t expect a response from the girl who still had tears rolling down her cheeks. He glanced at Spock who was awkwardly standing at the foot of the hospital bed, watching. When he looked back (Y/N), her wide, wet eyes were pleading up at him. 

“Now don’t worry, sweetheart. You’re on some pretty strong meds right now so you shouldn’t be feelin’ any pain. Once you’re more physically stable we can start your burn treatments and the physical therapy for your back.”

The heart monitor picked up speed once again as (Y/N)’s eyes seemed to get impossibly wide. Spock chose that moment to gently rest a hand on her leg in comfort. Bones shook his head softly. 

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about all that right now. Just get some rest and you’ll be right as rain soon.” The doctor patted her head gently and with one final scan of the machinery in the room, he left the two alone. 

“I-” Spock started then stopped. His brown eyes found (Y/N)’s and he hesitated. He looked down at her hand before continuing, “I am sorry I did not get to you sooner.”

(Y/N) wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault. To grab his hand or shake her head no but she couldn’t. All she could do was look at him and listen as the man before her pleaded for her forgiveness. 

Luckily, she didn’t have to wait very long for Spock to take her hand himself. His skin was cold compared to hers and he felt her fingers twitch against his palm. His eyes snapped to meet hers. Her eyes were still watery but she was no longer crying. She sniffled softly and her cheek twitched, the corner of her mouth barely perking up into a small, lopsided smile. 

I forgive you.

Spock scoffed as a small smile of his own made its way to his face. He stood up and gently rested (Y/N)’s hand against the scratchy hospital blanket. Spock leaned down, pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, and sighed. He could still smell your shampoo in your hair. 

“Get some rest.”

[ditzydoe444]

I'd love to read again about best friends dad Jason! And reader like he would be so confused at first because it was the new college friend of her daughter, but just imagine like Jason going to pick up his daughter and the reader from a colleague party and the reader crying about another boy and seeking Jason's presence

-🐎

MDNI 18+

best friend’s dad! jason x reader

—ㅤ꒰ྀིㅤ jason todd x reader ಿৎ

mentions of: age gap, reader is 20 and jason is in his 40’s, vaginal sex , brief mention of handjobs

──────────•~❉✿❉~•──────────

jason slowly pulled up to the house party to pick his daughter and her new college friend up. he wasn’t the biggest fan of college parties, let alone having his own daughter attend and possibly make a range of bad decisions, but what can he do? he’s seen you a couple of times, his daughter talking about you on the phone and he’s glad that she has a friend to rely on, it eases his worries as a parent about his daughter off in college.

instead of seeing you and his daughter waiting outside on the porch like he had hoped, he saw you sitting on the curb crying, his daughter no where in sight, and not picking up his calls or responding to his texts. jason looked at you, then back at the house. “fuck it,” he groaned as he turned the engine off, and walked towards you. “hey,” he called out, his voice low and gruff, “are you ok? where’s my daughter?”

you sniffled, rubbing your eyes before looking up. god he was attractive, tall and buff with enough muscles to you up with one hand. “she’s in the party with some guy, she’s fine don’t worry.” you mumbled trying to keep your voice from cracking.

jason’s brows furrowed, “and you? what are you doing out here when you should be inside partying?” you rolled your eyes, “not interested, college boys suck,” you spat out harshly after finding out that your now ex boyfriend had his tongue in some random girl’s mouth.

jason chuckled, he liked your attitude it was refreshing after being surrounded by rowdy old men like himself. “can i?” he hesitated gesturing to the spot next to you. “sure,” you responded as you fidgeted with your shorts.

as he sat next to you, you cursed at your outfit choices. a thin tank and the tiniest shorts that barely covered anything. and you swore you felt his gaze on your legs. “aren’t ya a little chilly with that outfit of yours?”

you felt your cheeks heating up, “no, i’m fine,” you responded defensively, trying to ignore the fact that you were chilly. within a second jason took off his jacket, placing it on your shoulders. “right right, can’t have you getting sick and missing class.”

you were pretty damn sure it is unethical to be attracted to your best friend’s dad, but right now you currently couldn’t help it. “i found the guy i was talking too making out with this random girl,” you spoke softly, your voice shivering. jason frowned, you were a pretty girl, though it probably wasn’t the right thing to be thinking of about his daughters best friend. a pretty girl like you shouldn’t be crying over a man who probably had nothing to offer for you.

“don’t go crying over a stupid boy like him, you’ll find a man later, a real man that won’t make you cry, well maybe for other reasons but not like this.” you laughed, “make me cry for other reasons?” you couldn’t help but to grin at the small suggestive comment. jason shrugged, slightly glad it was night time so you wouldn’t see the tip of his ears turning pink. “that’s the only time a real man would make you cry,” he shrugged trying to act nonchalant.

“crying in the bedroom?” you teased, forgetting that you were currently talking to your best friends dad. jason chuckled, “yeah something like that,” slightly relieved that your tears turned into laughter. “just saying, the right man will treat you like a princess, especially for a pretty girl like you.”

before jason could even correct it it slipped, “i didn’t mean-”, you shook your head “no it’s alright, i get what you were saying.” trying to ignore the blush creeping onto your cheeks.

“we can go back to my truck to warm up, can’t have you freezing.” the idea of being inside his truck with just the two of you was enough to make you hot and bothered, your mind going to the most lewd thoughts.

before you could even think of a response, your mouth had a mind of its own. “sure.”

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

oh how jason made you cry, and not from heartbreak. after getting a text from his daughter saying that she’ll have a ride home with friends he offered to drive you back first. the tension was palpable, nothing but the soft sound of the engine as his truck drove on the road. you knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t help but to slide your hand over, gently grazing just where the zipper of his pants were, toying with it.

one thing led to another, where a handjob now resulted in him folding you in half at the back seat of his truck on the side of the road, his thick cock abusing your tight cunt.

“thought you could just tease me like that huh?” jason groaned as your gummy walls clenched around him, the back of your heel digging into his back. “didnt know you liked getting fucked by someone double your age,” he added as he watched your mascara run down your cheeks, your lipgloss smeared and hair all messy but yet you were probably the prettiest sight he’s ever seen.

“fuck, please sweetheart let me come inside you, please,” he groaned as you clenched around him, almost milking him dry. you nodded, your mind cloudy from his dick, “i’m on birth control jay,” you moaned, within seconds after you came you felt him filling you up with his hot sticky come, your eyes rolling back from how full you felt.

and god, you had no regrets walking back to your dorm with his cum almost leaking down your thighs.

[athletictaipan]

[aventurineswife]

Okay skibidi hear me out, Penacony men with a s/o who was originally in a planet similar to alien stage.

I’ve been imaging random scenarios in my head and it WONT LEAVE ME ALONEEEEEE. How would the react learning that their s/o was artificially made with a older sibling? Or how they were actually naive as a child because how shielding they were by their older sibling only to find out the truth after preforming agaisnt them?

Reader joins the rebellion is just… hhshshshshdjdc I NEEDDDDD

The Cost of Freedom

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Gallagher x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Dystopian Themes, Found Family, Betrayal, Loss, Post-Rebellion, Grief, Existentialism, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Political Intrigue, Introspection, Trauma Recovery, Redemption Arc, Ambiguous Morality.

Warnings: Death of a Family Member (sibling), Themes of Guilt and Self-blame, Descriptions of Emotional Turmoil and Grief, Systemic Oppression and Rebellion, Brief Mentions of Violence and War, Ethical Dilemmas involving Loyalty and Survival, Existential Crises related to Purpose and Creation.

Aventurine’s eyes narrowed as you recounted your origins—a distant planet where you and your sibling were engineered to be perfect instruments of a system you barely understood. Your older sibling had shielded you from the harsh truth, ensuring your life felt whole and untainted. They had been your protector, your guide, until you uncovered their compliance with the oppressive regime you eventually came to hate.

When you told Aventurine how you performed against your sibling during the rebellion, how their face had twisted in a mixture of heartbreak and betrayal as you dealt the final blow, his constant smile faltered for the briefest moment.

“I see,” he said, voice smooth but quieter than usual. “So, you won the bet, didn’t you? Sacrificed the thing you loved for the chance to topple the system.”

He knew the cost of winning far too well.

You nodded, the weight of that victory still pressing against your chest. "But it didn’t bring me peace. It broke me. I killed the only family I ever had."

Aventurine stepped closer, his fingers brushing against your trembling hand. "Family," he murmured, "is a luxury for people who play safe. You and I? We take risks. We burn bridges because standing still is a death sentence."

Though his words carried a glimmer of understanding, you could see it in his eyes: the gamble of loving you was one even he might not win.

And yet, in the quiet moments when you were plagued by memories of your sibling’s dying expression, Aventurine stayed by your side, speaking of strategies and victories you’d never dare chase. Because Aventurine, for all his charm and cunning, understood what it meant to run from the ghosts of the past.

Even if neither of you could outrun them forever.

Ratio gazed at you, his expression unreadable as you revealed the truth of your existence: you were a creation, not born but made, shaped to fit a purpose beyond your control. Your sibling had shielded you, nurturing your innocence and curiosity while silently shouldering the burden of knowing the truth.

“I learned,” you said, voice trembling, “the truth during the rebellion. I had to… to confront them. To stop them from silencing me—us.”

The rebellion had been chaos, a crucible of innovation and destruction, and in the end, your sibling had fallen at your hands. They had looked at you, not with anger, but with pride and a heartbreaking sorrow.

Ratio leaned forward, his hair falling over his eyes. "You see it as a betrayal. But tell me—did they have a choice? They protected you because they believed you deserved better, even if it cost them everything. Including you."

His words stung because they rang true.

“Is that supposed to help me?” you snapped, tears threatening to spill.

“No,” he admitted, his tone unapologetic. "But it should make you see the brilliance in their actions. They didn’t protect you out of weakness but out of brilliance, out of love."

He reached out, his hand hesitating before brushing against your cheek. "Knowledge is cruel, my dear. It’s a weapon, and it cuts us as deeply as it cuts others. But you—" His gaze softened. "You must decide whether their sacrifice will shackle you or set you free."

Ratio would never admit it, but he saw echoes of himself in your story—an intellect burdened by loss, trying desperately to find meaning in a world that seemed too cruel to deserve it.

The dim lighting of Gallagher's bar cast long shadows over his scarred face as you finally shared your story. You told him of your artificial origin, of how your sibling had raised you in a cocoon of safety, only for you to shatter it when you learned the truth.

“I didn’t mean to fight them,” you whispered, fingers tracing the rim of your glass. “But they wouldn’t stop. They believed in the system, even when it was killing us.”

Gallagher’s eyes flickered with a rare hint of emotion. "And so, you ended it. You chose freedom over them."

"I didn’t choose," you said, voice cracking. “I survived. That’s all it was. I survived, and they didn’t.”

He said nothing for a moment, only pouring another drink. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and rough. "Surviving doesn’t feel like winning, does it?"

You looked up at him, surprised.

"I’ve been there," he continued, his hand unconsciously brushing the scar on his face. "Fighting for something you believe in, only to lose the people you care about most. The world doesn’t stop turning, but you carry them with you. Every step, every breath, they’re there."

“Does it ever stop hurting?” you asked, the weight of your grief pressing down on your chest.

Gallagher shook his head. "No. But you learn to live with it. And maybe… you find someone who makes the weight a little easier to bear."

For the first time, you saw the man beneath the stoic facade—a kindred spirit who knew the ache of loss and the struggle of moving forward.

Sunday listened in silence as you recounted your origins, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your breath hitch. When you spoke of your sibling’s betrayal—how they shielded you from the truth of your existence and the oppressive system that controlled your lives—his gaze softened, though his expression remained inscrutable.

“You killed them,” he said, his voice quiet. “The one who protected you. Loved you.”

“I had no choice,” you said, guilt choking your words. "They stood in my way. I—"

Sunday raised a hand, silencing you. "You don’t need to explain. I understand."

You stared at him, disbelief flickering in your eyes. "How could you possibly understand? They were my family, and I destroyed them."

He stood, his regal presence imposing yet strangely comforting. "Do you think I haven’t made sacrifices? That I haven’t hurt the ones I loved in the name of peace?"

You faltered, unsure of how to respond.

“My Sweetdream Paradise,” he continued, his tone heavy with conviction, "was born from the same pain you carry now. A dream of mercy, built on the ruins of lives I once cherished."

“But at what cost?” you asked, tears streaming down your face.

Sunday stepped closer, his gloved hand resting lightly on your shoulder. "That is the question we must all face, isn’t it? The cost of peace. The cost of freedom. It’s a burden you and I will carry for the rest of our lives."

His words resonated with a truth you couldn’t deny. Sunday, for all his composure and grace, was a man shaped by loss—just like you. And though his dream of a perfect world seemed impossible, you couldn’t help but wonder if, in his own way, he was trying to atone for the same sins that haunted you.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Break Up with Your Toxic Boyfriend (2 of 4)

John "Soap" MacTavish x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: brief discussion of verbal and emotional injury, briefly implied future physical injury, protective / possessive Soap, hand job, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl)

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

You and Soap might no longer be together, but he is your "safe space", and you need to vent. While raging over the phone about your boyfriend, Soap arrives at your door.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // break up with your toxic boyfriend masterlist

The anger and hurt in your voice are the only fuel John needs.

You have no idea that he is already on his way to you, that he hooked your phone call up to his helmet. That, even now, John is on his sportbike zooming down roads and weaving around cars in an effort to get to you.

There is a fire under his skin. It burns away all other concerns. Every word you speak is a blown furnace, the destruction mounting until each utterance infuriates him further. This “boyfriend” of yours, the one you started seeing after the two of you broke up, deserves a fucking sharp punch to the jaw. He deserves missing teeth and broken bones.

Men like him aren’t men at all. They’re rubbish, only valuing women as objects, seeing them as their housekeeper and not their partner.

In his ear, you’re hardly taking a breath. Your words are a stream of consciousness, each word angrily pushing into the other until it’s a jumbled mess. John listens to it all, using that as motivation to get to you. It’s doesn’t fucking matter that you’re not his anymore.

John still cares. He still loves you. The need to protect and defend you is innate. One teary-laced word was enough for him to drop everything and head in your direction. Doesn’t matter that you and he ended things a bit messy. It was simply complicated. The two of you needed to work a few things out but broke it off because that was the easy thing to do.

He regrets that. He regrets not fighting. Not getting his shit together.

The engine revs, and John turns onto your street, almost throwing himself off his bike to get to your front door. In one hand he’s holding his helmet. In the other, he’s holding his phone, the device pressed to his ear as you keep talking. Reaching out, he pounds on the door.

You immediately pause on the other side of the phone. “There’s someone at my door,” you murmur, voice slightly distant.

“I know,” he replies. “It’s me.”

Silence on the other end. But then he hears it—the familiar click of a lock. Following that is your front door opening, revealing you.

The two of you stand there, staring at each other. Your momentary shock slips, dipping into confusion.

“What are you—” you begin but promptly stop as John pushes past you and into the flat.

“Is that fucker here?” John strides into the kitchen, placing his helmet down on the counter before ending the phone call and slipping the device into his back pocket.

“John.”

He glances down the hallway and then turns to you. “Is he here?”

You shake your head. “No. He’s not here.”

John’s chest heaves with relief, some of the tension receding.

“John,” you repeat, the concern in your voice enough to smother some of that fire burning beneath his ribcage.

“Did he hurt you?” he asks softly, approaching.

His gaze roams up and down your body, searching for signs of injury. There is none, at least not that he can see. That doesn’t mean there aren’t marks somewhere hiding beneath the clothes. The very thought fans the flames, charging John’s nerves until they crackle like lightening.

“No, Johnny. I’m fine.”

Johnny.

Only two people are allowed to call him that and one of them is standing right in front of him. The use of it, the way it falls from your lips, is enough to slightly quiet the anger. He sighs, expelling some of that smoky frustration. But then his gaze flicks to a spot just over your shoulder, and a new feeling emerges.

There are fist-sized holes in the wall. Four of them. Much too large to be your hands.

“What the fuck are those?” John’s voice drops as he nods toward them.

The sadness that forms on your features nearly rips his lungs from his body. John has never seen you like this. Never this defeated.

“They happened after,” you answer.

“After what?”

“The argument.”

You and John have had your fair share of arguments, but he’s never punched a wall. He’s never thrown anything or threatened you.

Never. Fucking never.

No. Fuck this guy.

“You’re breaking up with him.”

“What?” you ask, flustered by his sudden outburst.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” he murmurs. “Doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you. To kiss your lips. To be in your presence.”

You deserve so much more than whatever this fucker is providing. Which is apparently nothing served alongside fist-sized gapping wounds in the plaster.

Your mouth opens like you’re about to reject the idea, but it’s not a suggestion. You are breaking up with him. You will leave him even if that means John doesn’t get to have you. That’s fine. That’s okay. He can live with that. What he can’t live with is knowing you’re with someone who treats you like rubbish.

He needs to get this off his chest, to make you understand that you are entitled to more.

“I listened the whole way here and you know what I heard?” He pauses and notices the slight quiver in your bottom lip. “That you’re unhappy. Have been for some time.”

You blink and fresh tears form there. John has to bite back the instinct to kiss them away. It’s what he would do if you were still his.

He licks his lips, a large sigh leaving him as he points over your shoulder. “He treats you poorly.” John’s hand slices through the air. “Walks all over you. Doesn’t answer you for hours and then gets angry with you when he finally makes contact.”

As John talks, even he can hear his voice thickening. This always happens when he gets worked up, and you’ve always playfully teased him about it.

“He’s a fucking waste of space.”

“John—”

“Break it off. And—fuck. If you can’t face him, then let me do it.” He places his hand on his chest. “Allow me to defend you.”

Your features soften and John wants to drink it in, to remember the way you’re currently looking at him. He remembers this side of you, the one that easily pierces him like a needle breaks skin. A look like this will put John on his knees if you ask him to.

“Johnny.”

He’s done. Gone. There is no coming back from this. Whenever you say his name like that, you’re either annoyed with him, wanting him to listen, or you’re just about ready to kiss him. It momentarily rips away all the thoughts in his head, leaving him temporarily mute before his brain can catch up again.

“Listen to me,” he says, gripping the sides of your face. “Get rid of him. I—I know you don’t want me but fucking hell. Don’t pick him. Don’t—”

John is silenced.

Not by your words leaving your mouth but from your lips pressing to his. It startles him—shocks him that you’re kissing him. Leaning into him. John responds, kisses you back, his tongue exploding with the remembrance of your taste.

But you’re still not his. You belong to someone else still and this isn’t right, no matter how much he fucking hates it.

“Stop, love,” he murmurs, pushing on your shoulders.

John loathes telling you to stop. To move away from him. Doing so is like fish hooks caught in the skin. He wants to reel you right back in, to taste your lips again, and fall into memory.

“I ended it,” you reply softly. “It’s over. That’s why there are holes in the wall.”

John pauses, his gaze growing serious. “What?”

You shake your head. “He didn’t like that I wanted him to leave. That I didn’t want to see him anymore.”

Your fingers dig into the back of John’s neck and that one touch is enough to dissolve his resolve about not kissing you into dust.

He closes the distance, and you welcome him in, opening beautifully.

“Am I your rebound?” he teasingly asks between kisses.

You laugh against his lips and kiss him again. “Why did I ever leave you?” Your question is a sad murmur tinged with a regret that leaches off your words and floods into his heart.

“Because I was an asshole.” He believes these words completely but you’re shaking your head.

“No,” you reply. “You weren’t. Never that.”

The kisses between you, which at first were soft, quickly develop into deeper passion, twining like a spool of thread around a bobbin. John drags you against him, tasting over and over until you are imprinted on his memory.

Your arms drape over the back of his neck to pull him even closer, and John snaps. That gentle resolve is gone. He needs you.

Reaching down to cup your ass, John lifts you off the ground until your legs naturally wrap around his waist. He knows where the bedroom is but that’s too fucking far. The desire writhing between and around his bones is a blood-beast. A feral thing that calls out for your skin against his.

Setting you down on the counter, John shoves his helmet out of the way. You’re already reaching for him, undoing the front of his pants, slipping in to palm him. The inhale you make when your fingers wrap around his cock is sweet and John breathes it in as if that one sound makes up his entire lifeblood.

Fuck. Fuck.

He’s going to taste you everywhere. His lips and teeth will mark your skin. His tongue will find a home between your legs. You’ll forget this fuckers name. He just needs a few hours and it’ll be his name you’re screaming.

You stroke him again, and John drags you right to the edge of the counter, intending to sink to his knees to worship between your spread thighs.

Your knees lock at his hips and with another stroke of your hand, you tell him what you want. “I need you inside me. I want to feel you.”

You ask so sweetly. He can’t say no. He doesn’t want to.

John helps you ease his pants down to his thighs. When he goes to undress you, he only finds underwear under that large, oversized shirt.

“Fuck, love.” John’s finger drags that fabric aside and he groans at the sight.

You’re already wet. Aching. Ready for him. Begging him to bury himself inside.

This one will be quick. It’ll be rough and he’ll probably fucking spill within a minute, but he has the whole night to take you over every surface in this flat, to make you writhe and moan beneath him.

Placing one hand on the counter and one on your thigh, John starts to ease in. Inch by inch, slowly, he disappears until there is nothing left for him to give. He has a perfect view of how you stretch around him. How you slightly clench and unclench, the pleasure of it shooting to the base of his spine.

“Don’t leave me,” you murmur as Soap begins to thrust into you.

“Never,” he replies, nuzzling the side of your face as you pepper him with kisses.

John anchors himself, snapping his hips, chasing the end just so he can get you back into that bedroom to do so much more.

“You’re mine,” he groans as your fingers dig into his skin, pulling him closer. “Always have been.”

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @keiva1000 @miss-mistinguett @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @jade1605 @miaraei @contractedcriteria @lovely-ateez @gingergirl06 @kidd3ath @leed-bbg

[fandom-lover2]

Actions Speak Louder Than Words

Miko has a bad day, and Optimus learns what body language is.

Word Count - 3040

-image not mine-

Today was… normal.

As normal as one could get when their guardian is a 20 foot tall metal warrior from another planet, but today hadn’t been any different than the others.

Woke up, got ready for Saturday (Ratchet’s favourite day because we were at the base all day) and hitched a ride with Bee and Raf to base.

We were the first humans here. Ratchet and Optimus were already hard at work at the monitors, scanning for energon and logging reports and doing whatever it was that they continuously did at those computers.

After exchanging greetings and brief conversation, Raf and I settled down while Bee waited for Bulk so patrol routes could be run.

It didn’t take long for the roar of a motorbike’s engine to fill the tunnel and Jack was rolling in on Arcee, Miko and Bulk close behind.

“Thought you had work today?” I called down to Jack, not moving from my spot at the desk with the human monitors where I was preparing to start my history essay on the similarities between Ancient Greek mythology and Shakespear (don’t judge, I find it interesting).

“Schedules got moved around. Apparently I’m ‘Working too much’ and they don’t want to pay me.” Jack replied, beginning up the stairs.

What followed was the sound of two Autobots transforming, and then silence.

I glanced over my shoulder, making sure Bulkhead had actually brought Miko. There she was, walking up the stairs behind Jack. I frowned, but turned back to my papers.

“Where to today, boss?” Bulkhead questioned.

“Once you have restocked your energon, we are going to northern Alaska. Our scanners have sensed an energon signal.”

“If it’s black, fight back.  If it’s brown, lie down. If it’s white, goodnight.” I warned jokingly to Jack and Miko, not looking up from my textbook.

For mid-April, Alaska would be warm enough now that they could go along and maybe not freeze. That also meant the bears would be out and about.

Me personally, as much as I wanted to tag along, this essay would take a while and with spring break around the corner, I didn’t have time to go off on excursions.

That’s why I came here to work on it, Ratchet would keep me from getting too distracted. I’d texted last night asking as much.

“Eh, I have some homework to catch up on.” Jack answered, and I heard him pull out the chair at the desk near the couch and get settled. Beside me, Raf was already lost to the world of coding and typing away on his laptop with ferocity.

I waited for three breaths, and then frowned when there wasn’t a reply. I spun in my wheelie chair, and watched as Miko sat down on the couch.

Ok, what was up?

Firstly, she didn’t sit anywhere, she flopped. And secondly, she never took up only one end of the couch. Usually, she dramatically lounged across it while whining that it was taking forever for Bulkhead to get ready so they could head out. And also, what was with the silence. Not even a sarcastic greeting to Ratchet.

Something was up with her. It wasn’t her birthday, wasn’t a Japanese traditional holiday she was missing, wasn’t school related cause yesterday she had a good day.

I glanced over at Jack and he was turned in his seat too, looking just as confused.

He caught my gaze and gave the ‘you see it too?’ look.

‘Yeah. What’s up with her?’ I shrugged subtly.

Jack raised his brows slightly, ‘I don’t know. She didn’t say anything to me.’

 I rubbed my lips together, my go to for thinking.

‘You should talk to her.’ Jack prompted, jerking his chin just a bit.

‘Me? Why me?’ I frowned.

‘Well I can’t. I’m a guy.’ Jack answered, looking down at his chest and then back up to me.

‘Fine.’ I agreed, rolling my eyes. Men are such weirdos.

With a sigh that didn’t need to be that dramatic, I got off my chair and made my way to Miko. On my journey, I happened to glance over and found Optimus watching me with an intense stare.

It was almost enough to make me stumble over my own feet.

I had long since given up trying to understand Optimus, mostly because there wasn’t much to understand. He was a simple guy, someone who carried a lot of weight on his shoulders and had only made it so far in life by concealing his emotions.

If he was pissed, you’d know it in the way he spoke. If he was at ease, he’d hang around a little longer in the common area before heading off to wherever it was he went. If he was stressed, he’d assign himself the longest patrol route so he’d have more time to get away. Easy as that.

This, open and intense studying, was a new one. A part of me wanted to ask, but I was on a mission already. Sky and ocean blue would have to wait.

As I got closer, it was obvious something was wrong. She sat hunched, eyes glued to the floor and hands folded in her lap. Her eyes were puffy and a little red, and she sniffed when I got close.

Crying, hunched over, hands in good posture… oh god. She was going back to Japan.

“Hey Meeks.” I greeted, sitting on the sofa beside her.

There was the long approach, of asking how she was, and then going through all the small talk. Or, I could ask it upfront and get this going. Knowing her, the only way to get it out was to hit her hard.

“What’s wrong?” She looked up at me, and as it always happens when someone asked ‘Are you ok?’ when you already aren’t, the water works started.

“They won’t let me dye my hair.”

Between the beginning to cry breaking her voice and the fact that she lunged at me, I only got some of the words before she was burying herself into my chest and sobbing. My arms wrapped around her, shuffling forward so I could pull her into my chest and cradle her closer.

“What?” I asked, needing to hear that again.

“My host parents.” I could faintly make out. “They won’t let me dye my hair.”

Her outburst had caused everyone to look at us, and Bulkhead was rushing over from the supply station, an adorably confused face that suited a toddler better than all 18 feet of him looking to me for the answers.

Either he didn’t know how to start this conversation, or he’d not seen something was wrong on the ride over. Either way, I was now being watched like the one with the answers.

Miko sobbed into my shirt again and I realized I was supposed to be doing something.

Ok, let’s back up to what she said. Her host parents wouldn’t let her dye her hair. Well, the pink was starting to wash out a little, leaving only the bleach behind. And, her hair had grown out a bit since our first meeting. And, based on what she’d told me about her host family, they did seem very ‘stick up the ass’ about this kinda thing.

Still, not letting her dye her hair. Come on, assholes. It’s part of who she was, her personality. It was just hair dye.

Miko sobbed again, and I continued to hold her close.

It was just hair dye, and yes it made her seem like a delinquent, but in the land of Freedom, let her live. No one was getting hurt.

“So fuck them.” I spoke, plain and simple.

“Kristin!” Jack chastised.

“What?” I demanded.

Miko had released me in her shock and was now sitting upright, wiping her tears.

I turned to Optimus. “Mind if I pull Bulk for a couple hours?”

He didn’t take long to consider it. “You may.���

I smiled back at him in thanks, standing and heading for my bag, which was left by my books. I paused just briefly, but then slammed my textbook closed and slung my bag onto my shoulder. I could do it later.

“Coming?” I asked Miko, making my way to the stairs and skipping down them.

“Where?” Miko asked, hesitant to follow.

“To buy hair dye.” I called over my shoulder.

I heard her gasp, then scramble to rush down behind me. Bulkhead transformed, opening his front doors for us.

Miko reached me as we got to the bottom of the stairs, slamming into me from behind and encasing me in a hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she repeated over and over.

“Yeah, yeah. Get in.” I redirected, shrugging her off.

“Bulk, play something awesome!” Miko instructed, rushing to get into his passenger seat. A moment later, something metal and ear assaulting blasted from his speakers.

I regretted this already.

---

I, thankfully, got to choose the music on the ride back, so Elle King announced our arrival back to the base.

Bulk pulled to a stop and we jumped out his cab, me pulling the two plastic bags with us.

Miko took off into the base, not a glance back as she shouted “Come on!”

I had one pit stop to make before we commandeered the bathrooms.

“Jack!” I called, jerking my head for him to meet me halfway as I started up the stairs.

He did, and I handed over the second bag.

“What’s this?” he asked, glancing inside to find soda, candy and some bags of chips.

“Do not disturb tax. We’re having a girl’s day.”

Spinning on my heels, I marched back down the stairs and made my way into the base.

---

I flopped onto the old chair with a groan, my back protesting. Three hours of standing was not easy.

But hey, Miko has bright pink ends and was currently kicking Raf’s ass at Mario Cart, so it was worth it. Kinda.

This shirt had been one of my favorites and now it was bleached to all hell.  And my ears were still ringing from the speaker we’d used.

But hey, karaoke was the bomb. Totally worth it.

I moved my hands to rest on my back, using them to lean backwards and stretch my spine.

Primus, what time was it anyway?

Jack had left a couple hours ago for his shift and said his mom had made us stuff for dinner that’d he bring back. Miko and Raf would be getting ready to head home soon.

Jack and I would probably spend the night. June had nightshift and my parents were out of town again so there wasn’t a reason for either of us to make the trip back.

Spinning the chair around, I opened my textbook again. Interlacing my fingers and giving them a crack, I started up my laptop and got busy.

At first I struggled to find a point to start on, but once finding a cool quote online, the words started flowing and flowing.

I apparently missed Raf and Miko’s goodbye and Jack’s arrival because the next thing I knew, Ratchet was using a digit to cover my screen.

“Oi!’ I turned to glare up at him.

“I understand all the well putting your health aside for a project, but you need food and sleep.”

I glanced down at my phone and tapped the screen, 11:34pm shining back at me.

Oh scrap, I had been here for almost 4 hours. How was that even possible?

I looked around the base. Optimus was watching with just as much concern as the medic, Jack asleep on the couch already. Well that explained why my eyes were burning and why my stomach ached so fiercely.

“Yeah, ok.” I conceded, rubbing my eyes. “Lemme just save this quick.”

Ratchet relented, moving his digit so I could quickly save the document before gently closing my laptop.

Standing, almost every bone and joint in my body cracked. Ratchet cringed, having verbally stated his hate when I did that many times before.

Barely having enough energy to shuffle, I made my way to where ‘dinner’ sat cold. Eh, lasagna was better cold anyway.

Grabbing a plastic fork, I ate straight from the glass dish, barely able to keep my eyes open. Ratchet wished me a goodnight and I returned the sentiment between yawns.

I had just finished all I was going to eat and was preparing to get settled on the smaller sofa when Optimus walked over and held out his servo for me. No need to tell me twice.

I climbed abord and let him carry me to his room. When we got there, he sat on his berth, and then swung his legs over and got settled on his back while I situated myself on his chestplates.

The pillow and blanket that were left in his room for occasions like this were brought up for me and I thanked him, curling in onto him.

Yeah, I slept on his chest when I slept over. And yes, it was extremely dangerous but he was yet to roll over in his sleep and kill me so we’d keep doing it.

“Y/n,” he started.

I hummed in the form of a reply for him to continue, fluffing my pillow.

“You planned to do your school work earlier, but then when Miko confessed her distress, you abandoned your work to help her. Why?”

What kinda question was that?

“She needed me.” I answered simply, shifting slightly so I could look him in the optics. “I could always do the work later. She needed me then.”

Optimus seemed to accept that answer. “How did you know she was in trouble?” I went to answer, but he continued. “And those actions you and Jack exchanged, almost as if you were having a conversation, but without words. How was that possible?”

I huffed a laugh, getting settled once again and closing my eyes. “Body language. We could read each other through our actions, and those translated into words. Same thing with how Miko was acting. She wasn’t talking, sitting by herself, hunched into herself. She was sad. Jack shrugged, meaning he didn’t know why.”

I paused, thinking of how I could possibly explain it any further and found there really wasn’t much more I could say. Body language just was.

Thinking back on it, the bots never really did speak through body language. All conversations were verbal, and I’d never seen them silently gesture to one another before.

There wasn’t really a way to explain it to someone. You could explain some of the actions, but it was so ingrained in human culture, it was never a need explain. It was the universal language, though now I guess it was only the human language.

“I’ll teach you sometime.” I said through a yawn, settling down further into his warm metal.

“Rest well, My Spark.” Optimus agreed, bringing up his servo to settle over me.

I drifted off to sleep moments later, the sound of his spark beating steadily in my ear.  

----

“You are… cold.” Optimus finally settled on his answer, which was so far from the correct answer Miko and Raf dissolved into giggles.

Jack looked wounded. “Am I that bad at acting?” he lamented, giving up and walking away.

The intended action was bored, or uninterested, but to the Cybertronian warrior, somehow sitting with a sigh and resting your head on your fist meant being cold.

These lessons were taking a lot longer than I thought they would, and apparently more coaching than I’d imagined.

Body language was seriously something none of the bots knew. In fact, Ratchet had laughed at the concept until I’d explained to him some of the common actions we did.

He then grumbled about how these pointers would have been helpful when dealing with Agent Fowler, like it was our fault no one debriefed him on human mannerisms.

“Bored. He was bored.” I answered, standing too. This was not going well.

“He is not the only one.” Arcee mumbled.

I turned to glare over at her. “No one asked you to join in.” I muttered even softer than her quip.

“You don’t like Arcee.” Optimus blurted out.

Jack barked out a laugh so hard he missed the chair he was aiming for and hit the floor. Miko and Raf dissolved into more giggles.

“Well that only took 6 months.” I sighed. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea anymore.

The blue and pink stabby stabby femme turned to look at me, her optics narrowed. I looked away to avoid her gaze.

No doubt this would come back to bite me in the ass later on.

“You are embarrassed.” Optimus helpfully decided to test his knowledge.

He wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t too embarrassed. I wasn’t trying to hide my dislike for her. But being called out in front of her by him was a little harsh.

“Good work, Optimus.” I rewarded his observation. The proud little smile he awarded himself was too adorable.

All jokes aside, we were making some progress. And once I’d see the bots use some of our gestures when they’d been sneaking up on ‘Cons and couldn’t talk.

In some ways, us humans were actually helping out there. And teaching these ancient bots something new.

And Optimus was like a little puppy, so excited to learn more and prove his skills, which were still in development but he was getting there.

We still had to work on his ability to read the room, and when to keep his observations to himself.

But we’d get there.

To save everyone from the embarrassment, the tones sounded for energon signals being picked up.

“Time to roll!” Miko cheered, like she going to go anywhere.

“Sit down.”

“You are authoritative.”

“Optimus, just go out… there, somewhere!” I snapped, gesturing to the opening portal.

This was seriously turning into something I regretted.

The Prime walked over to his screen, and made a plan with his team, and then just before slipping through the groundbridge, he turned to me and said, “You are annoyed.”

“Optimus!” I picked up an empty soda can and yeeted it towards him.

I seriously needed to rethink this decision.

[agendabymooner]

SOMETHING SPOILED !!! FERNANDO A. X FEM!READER (18+)

summary: she could easily get away with things and when she couldn’t, he always made sure to put her back in her place

content warning: smut (minors dni!), pwp(ish?), what is context, explicit language, themes of jealousy and sugar daddy/baby relationship, degradation, dumbification, spitting, dacryphilia, impact play, brief mention of oral sex (m receiving), brat taming (dom!fernando), brief lance stroll x reader interaction, shitty smut, what’s beta reading we just rawdog our writing in here

note: i will be making a separate masterlist for this i think… lmk what you think and enjoy xx

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

send your 💌re:moony’s planner requests here!

she can get away from a lot of things. she knew that. fernando knew that. 

in fact, fernando would even reward her for it. after all, she never demanded too much and all he wanted was to give her the world.

she wanted a new pair of shoes? he’d buy her the sneakers AND a pair of red bottoms. she wanted something from macy’s? fuck that; he’d have his assistant book the whole floor of harrods just so she can pick out new clothes for her closet. 

he would give her everything. even if she tends to be very playful and hilarious, he’d give her everything just to see it.

her cheekiness was a welcome distraction from his busy life as a professional racer. she’d often tease him in different ways but not once did she ever cross the lines and tested his patience and limits. she wasn’t really a brat, to say the least— she’d often give up by the time fernando would wrap his arms around her and press kisses all over her face.

and if she didn’t give up her act, he’d put her back to her place. it rarely happened, and when it did— they were rough. she would continue to act up just so he could punish her. she welcomed the pain with no hesitation and allowed him to control her like she was nothing but a body to be tossed around. 

she could get away from a lot. whenever she couldn’t, her excitement would soak through her knickers while thinking about his next move.

but right now, she wasn’t really at fault for being so bratty. her petulant attitude toward him wasn’t something that she expected from herself, but when her partner continued to ignore her throughout the party after arriving separately— the least she could do was throw his attitude right back at him. more petulantly, if you were to compare her actions to his.

she sat by the bar counter and quietly sipped on her drink, her ears ringing at the sound of his laughter from the distance alongside other men while they spoke about the happenings during the race earlier today.

she looked so pathetic like this; dressed up in the prettiest slip dress that turned to be a fabric of despair. she was the prettiest woman to have ever existed, and even the rest of the grid thought so, yet she looked so alone. she blamed fernando for this. 

all she wanted was him. she only wanted him right now. nothing more, nothing less. 

yet, in a world where he’d give her everything, he wouldn’t hand himself over to her. instead, he was laughing with lewis and carlos as they chatted about whatever the fuck it was. 

“you’d make a good renaissance painting,” her head shot up at the sound as she found lance stroll sitting next to her. the canadian beamed at her teasingly before sipping on his whiskey on the rocks. 

she scoffed, “if you want to see me naked, just say that.” 

lance laughed over the club music that continued to bust everyone’s eardrums. he then continued, “i would say that but do i really want to get my engines busted by a certain teammate before the next race?” 

her thoughts drifted back to fernando, who, from afar, had gone quiet (not that she knew that), before she rolled her eyes. “don’t be stupid,” she said, “i don’t think he’d care enough to ruin your car.” 

“you’re underestimating the man,” lance chuckled, “way too much, if anything. he could kill with just a look if anyone’s made a passing comment about you.” 

“i really should stop showing up at these stupid races,” she muttered quietly, “it’ll get worse as soon as people find out i hang out in the garages or paddock.”

“why?” lance asked, his frown an evident of concern as he said, “are you two not a…” 

“no, we’re not,” she interrupted with a huff, downing the rest of her drink as she continued, “it’s still the same arrangement. i could just stay at home and still get an allowance— i dunno why i said i’d come with him. look where i am now. he’s doing the same shit he does whenever he’s arriving at the paddock— i have to go after him so nobody knows who i am.” 

it was so obvious that she and fernando should be more than a mutually beneficial arrangement. he showed her something more than financial support and casual intimacy— yet he kept it on the down low as if she’s just a pastime. 

“damn,” lance muttered, offering her a sympathetic smile as he said, “is the money that good?”

“i don’t even care about the money anymore,” she laughed quietly, her eyes pausing from their track as she saw the obvious glare from her partner. he certainly wasn’t happy with what he was seeing.

yet she ignored his heavy scowl as she beamed, “i’m sure you’d be able to provide more if it was about it.” 

lance smirked lazily, now realizing what she was implying as he replied, “i’m sure i would’ve given it to you already if you weren’t as attached to fernando as you are now.” 

looking away from fernando, she covered her excitement and petulance with a giggle before she shoved lance lightly. “shut up.” 

sure, she could get away from a lot of things. but the way fernando stared at her coldly while she was acting all playful towards lance told her enough about the kind of treatment a spoiled brat like her would get from him. 

all she could do was squirm at the thought. 

her mouth let out a shrill cry as fernando pulled her mouth away from his cock, saliva dribbling down her chin to her chest as she felt a sharp pain on the roots of her head. he continued to grab a handful of her hair as he looked down at her. 

his eyes showed nothing of affection. his face offered nothing but mockery and anger. not towards her— but her bratty attitude that she showed tonight. 

he never felt so jealous until he saw lance talking to her up close. and he’s never been angrier than what he felt when she let his teammate get close like that. like she could just move on after talking to the man with a flirtatious smile and get away from her crimes that easily. 

her petulance and constant refusal on the way back to the hotel led to where she was now. her thighs rubbed against each other while tears trickled down her reddening cheeks.

she was desperate for his cock and his touch. both of which she didn’t even deserve despite being his spoiled girlfriend.

she tried to be prideful and strong as she refused to listen to his orders. 

it was too bad for her because while she thought that her pride was big, fernando alonso’s pride was bigger. his ego and his desire to control were what she enjoyed most about this— and these were his tools to tame her. 

“did you think that you can get away from that, hermosa?” he spewed out, watching her as she shut her eyes tightly and shook her head. “not listening to me and letting those men get near you— you’re not very smart, are you?”

“m- fer—“ she babbled, only to be interrupted by the clicking of his tongue as his other hand gripped her chin tightly. finally letting go of her hair, he tilted her chin up to his direction without a word. 

he growled quietly, “you’re such a disobedient girl. a very ungrateful and disobedient girl. you don’t deserve my cock after all of this, hermosa.”

“n- no! please-“ she exclaimed, squirming against the hold on her chin as she pleaded with him, “‘ll be good! i’ll be a good girl, i pr- promise. jus’ wan’ your cock- please nando!” 

his breath fanned on her face as he chuckled quietly, “you don’t listen to me unless you want it, hm?”

his hand let go of the grip for a moment, only for his palm to strike her cheek as he gripped her face once more. “open.” 

her brain, feeling hazy from the impact of his slapping and being deprived of his touch and his cock, short circuited. fernando tsked, tapping her reddening cheek once more as he crooned, “look at you, amor. you’re so dumb for my cock, eh? such a stupid bratty girl— wanting my cock when she doesn’t deserve it— open your mouth, hermosa.” 

she obliged, not wanting to disobey him anymore as he grinned. his grin eventually turned into a frown before spitting in her mouth as he demanded, “you know what to do.”

closing her mouth, she swallowed without a hesitation while her glistening eyes looked up at him.

“so you listen then,” he laughed mockingly, “i thought i’ve already fucked your mouth until you turned stupid.” 

she rubbed her thighs against each other, hoping for some sort of relief as a whine escaped her throat. “what’s wrong, hermosa?” tears escaped her eyes as she continued to plead with him wordlessly. “that’s not going to get you anywhere right now— not after you pulled that shit earlier just so you can piss me off.”

she couldn’t find a way to speak, humiliation and pleasure mixed with her adrenaline as she babbled, “i- i wan’- ‘m…” 

“speak up,” he laughed once more. “you’re way too mouthy earlier— what is stopping you now?” 

she whimpered, feeling too frustrated and already feeling too fucked out. she really wasn’t going to get away with all of those things that she did just to catch his attention earlier.

she just wanted him, but she couldn’t seem to get it all out because of the immense pleasure that she received from being disciplined. 

he chuckled quietly, “you want my cock?” 

she nodded frantically, a series of murmurs escaped her mouth as she meekly cried out, “want you to fuck me, please, please, please nando~ ‘m a good girl.”

“no, you’re really not, hermosa,” he grinned wickedly, “if you were you would’ve known not to flirt with those people. but i guess it was my fault that i’ve left you hanging and horny before we went, no? otherwise you wouldn’t have been that stupid to tease them like you would with me.”

she squirmed again, whimpering at his words as fernando continued, “but i’ve given you so much that you always find a way to get some more. i think that my little slut should be thankful for what she’s getting instead of acting like a spoiled brat.”

she couldn’t even find herself to protest. she was so drunk in lust and his dominance that she couldn’t find herself to fight back against his words. 

her love for him would have to wait. she was in too deep right now and if it meant that she’ll get an orgasm and maybe more then she’d do whatever it takes to please him. 

after all, she was spoiled already. working hard didn’t sound too bad. 

[smileysuh]

ride night TEASER

🌙 starring. Lee Donghyuck x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “You always told me you had a thing for older men. Said I wasn’t your usual type- not daddy enough for you, well, here you go, baby. Let daddy hear you moan for my cock.” You seriously can’t believe this is happening. All you can do is try to relax while Hyuck fucks you stupid in some dive bar bathroom stall, your core still throbbing and desperate after six orgasms from a vibrator while on his bike. The fingers on your oversensitive bud are unrelenting, just like your boyfriend, and at this point, you can’t even bring yourself to care that his ride night dad is listening in, only a few feet away. 

tw/cw. Exhibitionism, riding a Harley with a vibrator inside of you, multiple orgasms, fucking in a bar bathroom while someone (John) listens in, overstimulation, unprotected sex, vibrator as a ball gag, voyeurism, dirty talk, praise, choking, brief pussy eating, Hyuck has tattoos, etc… I pet names: (hers) princess.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 4.9k

🍭 aus. Established relationship au, motorcycle au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. The I love Harleys saga continues but this time with NCT

You close your eyes, giving in to the onslaught of sensations. 

The air ripping at your tight riding jacket, gravel buffering your knees ever so often, music ringing through your helmet, the powerful vibrator in your pussy, and the even more powerful machine that Hyuck maneuvers like a God-

If you focus too hard, if you allow yourself to enjoy all of this, you might just cum, and part of you wants to resist that, so you open your eyes, looking over at John on the bike next to you.

Hyuck might be the notorious dare devil, but John’s not all that angelic either. The man is standing straight up on his foot pegs, his butt raised completely off his seat. The wind is tearing at his leather jacket, and you can’t even imagine the pressure of the air he’s cutting through, battering at his body-

Even so, he looks as free as you’ve ever seen a man look.

Your pussy pulses pathetically around the toy and you grip Hyuck’s hips, legs shaking around his own.

His hand lands on your thigh, squeezing, as if to say ‘cum for me,’ and your body can’t help itself this time. You release all the pressure, your muscles going slack for a moment of peace before contracting from the power of your orgasm.

Your core throbs desperately around the vibrator, your eyes closing to enjoy the sensation.

Hyuck takes his hand away from your thigh, revving the engine and kicking into an even higher gear. The bike purs below you, as if she - like her master - is amped up from the energy of your release.

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