#cobra after dark

[fycobra12]

Alarm für Cobra 11 - Die Autobahnpolizei, S36E01 Die dunkle Seite (2014)

[embryoed]

Same bitches different universe

[luci3skydi]

It’s HIS season 2 villain betrayal song!

(Terry’s villain song is of course Toxic Love (Jonathan Young’s version) but that’s more KK than Cobra Kai.)

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: In The Serpent's Den.

Pairing: Yandere!Suguru x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 4.7k.

TW: Non/Con, Hybrid AU, AFAB!Reader, Cobra!Suguru, Rabbit!Reader, Biting, Aphrodisiacs, Heat Cycles, Oviposition, Manipulation, Biting, Breeding Kinks, and Predator/Prey Dynamics.

“It’s time to come out, little rabbit.”

 His tone was sickly sweet, lulled into something saccharine and tempting, only slightly distorted by the uncommon shape of his tongue. Despite his melodic coaxing, you curled further into yourself – pulling your thighs flush to your chest and burying your knees in your face, doing your best not to breathe, not to cry, not to make a sound. The temptation to uncurl yourself entirely and run, run, run until you found somewhere small and dark and safe gnawed on the back of your mind, but it never would’ve worked. You were in Suguru’s enclosure, Suguru’s territory, and there was nowhere to run where he wouldn’t be able to follow.

“I’m losing my patience, little rabbit. If you come out now, I promise I’ll try to hold myself back.”

Why was he even looking for you? It’d been weeks since his eccentric, white-haired owner forced you into the sprawling greenhouse that made up Suguru’s enclosure, and he’d never paid you a second glance. You did your best to avoid him, to make sure you never crossed his path while he was prowling for a meal. You could count the number of times he’d acknowledged you on a single hand, and he’d never so much as lunged at you. You couldn’t imagine why he’d decided you’d make a good meal now, after weeks of relatively peaceful cohabitation. Maybe he’d gotten tired of keeping you around, of having to share his territory with another hybrid – one so far below him on the food chain. Maybe, this was just the first time he’d gotten hungry enough to hunt you down.

You heard branches shift, twigs break, and instantly, all of your thoughts (rational and otherwise) were replaced with a frantic, buzzing static. “You’re only making this worse for yourself,” Suguru went on, and his voice was too loud, too close. You’d tucked yourself into the densest patch of foliage you could find, but your white ears and cottony tail stood out like blood on snow against the vivid greens and blacks of the flora. Suddenly, trying to hide at all felt stupid. Rabbits weren’t supposed to hide. Rabbits were supposed to die and get eaten by the big, mean snakes who preyed on them. “I’m going to find you, and when I do, you’re only going to be sorry you made me wait as long as I have.”

You could hear the dull drag of scales moving over rough stone, the ebbing ‘hiss’ that formed a slight lisp at the end of each sentence. You raised your head just far enough to see a large, black shape move in front of you, and something buried deep inside of you cracked and spilled open.

Running wasn’t a choice – it was the only option. You were on your feet in a second, sprinting deeper into the greenhouse in another. The direction didn’t matter. As long as you got away from him, nothing else mattered.

Blindly, you vaulted over fallen branches and overgrown roots, rotting leaf litter threatening to steal your balance as you veered away from the beaten path and threw yourself into the tangled wilderness. If Suguru was chasing you, you couldn’t hear him – the world little more than a blur of color and your own racing pulse. You just needed to find somewhere better to hide, somewhere he’d forgotten. A tunnel, or a tree hollow, or a cave dark enough to hide your snowy pelt from prying eyes. You just needed to—

 Your trek came to an abrupt end as your collided with a pane of thick, emerald-tinted glass and were sent crashing to the ground. It took you a second to process what you’d run into – the wall of the greenhouse, the edge of Suguru’s enclosure – and another to remember that you weren’t in the wilderness, anymore, that you wouldn’t find a tunnel or a cave or anywhere else to hide that hadn’t been created deliberately to trick animals like you into to think they were safe. You might’ve cried, if you hadn’t been so desperate. You might’ve gone looking for Suguru yourself, if you hadn’t been too scared to remember what it meant to be caged.

Fighting back tears, you started to scramble onto your feet, but it was already too late. There was no sound, no warning, just a sudden pressure against your back and an agonizing pain burrowed into the side of your throat. His fangs were planted in your neck before you could so much as scream, his strong tail wrapped around your legs and his arms crossed over your midriff, keeping your body locked against his as he pinned you to the ground. You expected his venom to burn, to be able to feel death as it flooded into your veins, but instead, there was only a slight numbing sensation around the point of insertion, a distant fog over your senses that might’ve just been your own fading adrenaline. If anything, you felt…

You felt warm.

Suguru took his time pulling away, his ribbon-like tongue flickering over the skin of your throat before he lifted his head. You weren’t facing him, one of your cheeks pressed into the dirt, but you could just barely see him out of the corner of your eye, make out the dark hair tucked behind his shoulders, the pitch-black scales littered over his face, his chest. You knew he was a snake, but you thought you might’ve heard his owner call him something else, once or twice. A ‘cobra’, maybe, but you’d never met a cobra before. You felt safer thinking of him as a snake.

He opened his mouth, but you were already babbling. Trying not to cry had been useless. Tears poured down your cheeks unabashedly, blurring your vision and making it that much harder to spit something coherent out. “P-please don’t eat me – I’m really small for a rabbit, and I promise I won’t taste very good, and I—”

“Quiet, little rabbit.” You’d been wrong, before. You didn’t feel warm, no, you felt hot – something deep inside of you beginning to smolder at the sound of his voice. Immediately, you shut your mouth, and he rewarded you with a raspy chuckle. “You thought I was going to… to eat you?” You nodded stiltedly, and he went on. “Ah, no wonder you were so afraid. And here I thought my timid little bunny just didn’t like me very much.”

“…’m sorry.” You must’ve run farther than you realized. A few minutes of sprinting shouldn’t have left you this breathless, this dazed. “You… You aren’t going to eat me?”

“No, bunny. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“But, you bit—”

“I gave you a present.” Another dry chuckle, his tongue flitting over the back of your neck. “Just a little something to make sure you wouldn’t be so shy. You should already be feeling better.”

You weren’t sure that you felt better, but you didn’t feel scared, either. A different feeling had taken the place of your fear – the sensation viscous and churning and prone sending pangs of dull, burning pain to the pit of your stomach. You had to make a conscious effort to move your lips, and even then, it was hard to get any sound past your suddenly dry throat. Suguru waited patiently, seemingly more than happy to watch you stumble over your own tongue. “It’s really warm,” you managed, eventually. “I think I might be… tired?”

“Oh, of course. I forgot how easy it is for prey animals to wear themselves out. I’ll take you back to my nest, where you’ll be able to rest safely.” It wasn’t a question, but you nodded eagerly. Safe. You wanted to be safe. You couldn’t remember what you needed to be safe from anymore, though.

He uncurled, but didn’t pull away from you. Rather, your smaller body was pulled against his broad chest as he took you in his arms and carried you through the greenhouse. His destination was a raised loft – set above the wild foliage of his enclosure, accessible only by a sparsely wrung ladder you never would’ve had a hope of climbing on your own. His nest wasn’t at all like a rabbit’s nest, either. Rather than a deep, dark tunnel padded with fur and leaves, he’d taken you to a mess of tangled roots and woven blankets, all piled onto one another to form a box-like bed. Your form, limper than you would’ve liked it to be, was laid on a relatively soft patch, and Suguru positioned himself above you; upper body supported by his forearms, his never-ending tail taking up whatever space you left unoccupied. You wanted to sleep, to do what he said you should, but he was still touching you – dragging a single, clawed finger down your chest and over your midriff, only pausing at your waist to draw slow, swirling patterns into your hip. “My venom has a unique side-effect, you know,” he muttered, his voice low and soothing, the tapered tip of his tail lashing from side to side as he spoke. “A full dose would be fatal. It’d be fast, too – a few seconds of screaming, a few seconds of twitching, and then—” He paused, clicked his tongue. “—dead, just like that. It’s a little anti-climactic, to be honest.”

Something deep inside of you began to throb. You shrunk into yourself, trying to relieve the pulsing ache, but Suguru mistook your agony for fear. “In controlled portions,” he continued, splaying his open palm over your hip. “The symptoms are much more pronounced. Humans tend to get all feverish and clumsy, but hybrids—”

Again, he paused. His hand drifted lower – first to your thigh, then your cunt. You didn’t realize you were dripping until his cold fingertips skirted over your slit, gathering up the slick already staining the inside of your thighs.

“Hybrids go into heat.”

A cold wave of dread washed over you, and Suguru’s smile widened.

“…heat?”

“Heat, little rabbit.”

His hand lingered on your pussy, two of his massive fingers splitting apart your lips and making room for his tongue to lap gingerly over your entrance. The sensation was strange – not good and not bad, a little ticklish – but your hips bucked as it flickered over your clit. You knew better than to get so close to a snake’s mouth, but you couldn’t seem to move, to think about anything but getting closer, closer to anything that could touch and poke and lick you. “Is heat—” You started, only to be cut off by a cracked whimper as the throbbing in your core intensified. “Is it supposed to hurt?”

“Only for a while.” His deep voice reverberated against your cunt, and you couldn’t stop yourself; attempting to rock your hips against his mouth with a high-pitched whine. It was embarrassing to be so needy, so desperate, but Suguru didn’t seem to mind, only ghosting his lips over the inside of your thigh as he pushed you back down. “But, you’ll need a mate to help you through it. Do you want a mate?”

“Y-Yes! Mate!” You’d never felt this empty, before. It was a little like hunger, but not as jagged, not as desolate. It was more of an absence than anything more tangible; a total and complete vacancy that had to be filled. You tried to roll onto your stomach, to scramble onto your hands and knees and present yourself, but Suguru held you in place with minimal effort. Your protest came in the form of a drawn-out whine, a waving sound Suguru mocked with a low coo and an airy laugh. “Please, please, it hurts, Suguru, I can’t— I need—”

“You need cock,” he finished, his tone one of pure, undeniable satisfaction. With a sigh, he picked himself up, straightening his back and towering above you. You felt saliva pool at the bottom of your mouth as the junction between his upper body and his tail came into view – pale skin slowly giving way to ebony scales, the sculpted muscle of his chest meeting the plated armor below his hips. His hand fell away from you, but you couldn’t mourn the loss of contact, not when your attention was so fixated on the thin, almost invisible slit just below his pubic bone. His fingertips slipped shallowly inside of it, and his gaze shifted back to you. “Come, little bunny. I think you’ve earned another treat.”

The encouragement was appreciated, but unnecessary. You were already crawling towards him, your limbs uncooperative and your movements jolting but your resolve absolute. There was still a throbbing emptiness inside of you, getting worse and more demanding with each neglectful second, but all you could think about was settling onto your knees in front of Suguru and drooling at the sight of his fluttering slit. You weren’t sure what to do, whether to use your hands or your mouth, but Suguru didn’t leave much time for indecision. His free hand found its way to the back of your head, nudging you forward until your mouth was pressed against his slit, just starting to leak thick trails of translucent slick over his dark scales. Your tongue darted past your lips hesitantly, at first, but your trepidation didn’t last very long. It couldn’t, not when you had a hollow pit inside of you still begging to be filled.

Suguru’s fingers carded through your hair as you lapped and sucked at his slit. The taste was mildly acidic, but surprisingly sweet – your eyes quickly falling shut as you sank into a pattern of wet sounds and strange textures and point claws grazing over your scalp, scratching at your ears. Throaty moans (the loudest noise you would ever hear Suguru make, in hindsight) and mumbled praise trickled past his lips as you worked, letting you know that he liked the way you were curling your tongue, that the spongy spot you could just barely reach inside of him was particularly sensitive. It wasn’t long before a mix of your saliva and his arousal dripped past the corners of your mouth, before the end of his tail was lashing violently within the confines of his nest. Maybe Suguru was in heat, too. You hoped he was. You didn’t want to be the only one in so much pain.

You felt the tapered tip of something smooth and stiff against your tongue, and Suguru buckled forward, a ragged gasp tearing past his lips as he took your head in both hands and pressed you flush against his abdomen. Confused and panicked, you tried to pull away, but his grip was iron-clad and it was all you could do to whimper, to sit there helplessly while something filled your mouth – hard and ridged and hot enough to burn. Cock, the pulsing in your core filled in, but it couldn’t be. Suguru had made it sound like something you needed, something you were supposed to want, but you didn’t like the way the blunt head prodded at the back of your throat, the way the ridged underside ground against your tongue. For the first time since he’d caught you, your instincts agreed with your better judgement, both urging you to get away, to run, to put distance between yourself and this newfound threat.

Your pussy, though, couldn’t seem to do anything but chant mate, mate, mate.

You could feel something else, too – not in your mouth, but pressing into your chin, your throat. Reflexively, your hands shot up, wrapping around the thick intruder, and this time, Suguru let go of you entirely, biting back a half-choked groan as he pushed you away, leaving you sprawled out and alone in the center of his nest. The hollowness inside of you was nearly unbearable, and rubbing your thighs together only seemed to make it worse. You tried to look to Suguru, to ask him to do something, but instead, your eyes caught on the long, pale appendage pressed into his lower stomach. His cock. Or, his cocks, you guessed.

You hadn’t expected there to be two of them.

You hadn’t expected them to be so big, either. Even at a distance, it was clear they weren’t meant for a rabbit. Just one would’ve been more than you could handle – as long as your forearm, as thick as your wrist, the end tapered to a steep point but the base absolutely massive before they disappeared into his slit. The color was strange, too – the tip flushed a dull pink while the base was nearly as dark as his scales, creating an ombre that might’ve been pretty, if you weren’t so terrified. You couldn’t see any veins, but both were sculpted with pronounced, perfectly spaced ridges. You couldn’t imagine having something like that inside of you, but you couldn’t imagine not having anything inside of you, either.

You couldn’t be sure how long you spent staring up at him, trying to wrap your head around his size, trying to decide if you’d rather be torn apart by his cock or your own increasingly demanding needs. In the end, it wasn’t really your choice to make. His eyes darted from your clenched thighs to your heaving chest to yours, wide and watery, and a grin found its way back to his lips. For some reason, his smile wasn’t as comforting as it’d been, the first time you saw it. “I’m sorry, little rabbit. Did I startle you?” The tenderness in his voice was almost cloying. You didn’t move, didn’t respond, but he didn’t seem to need you to. “I didn’t mean to. Why don’t you spread your legs nice n’ wide for me, and I’ll make it up to you?”

Your gaze fell back to his cocks. One of his fists had wrapped around both, pumping idly while he stood above you. “Are those supposed to…?” You trailed off, shrinking into yourself. Suguru hummed, and you took it as confirmation. “But you’ll only use one, right? I don’t think I can— I mean, it won’t fit if you—”

“Really? I could’ve sworn you were begging to be fucked properly just a few minutes ago.” You stiffened, but he only laughed. “Fine, fine. If that’s what you think you want, I’ll only use one.”

You didn’t think you could trust him, but you could feel yourself getting hot, again, a haze forming over your mind. You could leave when he was finished, you figured, even if you weren’t entirely sure how to get out of his nest, or where to go once you’d escaped back into the greenhouse. After you got over your— your heat.

Hesitantly, you started to listen to the negging mantra still playing in the back of your mind, to obey the near-deafening voice in the back of your head urging you to get on your hands and knees and make him fuck you, but Suguru must’ve decided you weren’t moving fast enough. His tail shifted underneath you, a thick coil catching your side and leaving you bent over one of the thicker lengths, your stomach pressed into his cool scales and your feet barely able to reach the tangled roots of his nest. You scrambled for purchase, but Suguru was there to steady you – his hands finding your hips, his cocks pressing into your ass. The calloused pads of his fingertips pressed into your waist as he aligned one of his cocks – the upper one, you thought, just a little thicker than its twin – with your entrance. He was kind enough to give you a long, slow second to breathe before his hips rutted forward and he inside of you.

Immediately, it felt wrong.

You’d been right when you decided he was too big for you. He was only half-sheathed, and yet, the tip of his cock pressed into the floor of your cervix, the head of his cock alone enough to stretch your pussy as far as it could go. Thankfully, he didn’t try to force himself deeper, but feeling the smooth ridges of rub against the walls of your pussy as he pulled back wasn’t much better. Still, your cunt clenched around him eagerly, doing its best to suck him in despite your physical limitations. Suguru, of course, seemed more than happy to indulge you. His thrusts were slow and lethargic, as gentle as they could’ve been but still forceful enough to leave you pinned to the curve of his tail. You weren’t in control of your body, anymore. As he rolled his hips against your ass, you ground back against him, your greedy cunt never warm enough, never wet enough, never full enough. You tried to dig your blunt claws into his tail, to ground yourself, but it was a futile effort; a limping dear attempting to evade a wolf who’d already tasted its blood. Suguru’s only response was a stifled groan, a new roughness to the way he fucked into you. You felt his chest against your back as he bent at the waist, draping himself over you, his dark hair falling from his shoulder and replacing chunks of your vision with a curtain of thick, endless black. It didn’t matter. A fresh wave of tears would’ve left you just as helpless, not that Suguru seemed to mind the way you sniffled and sobbed between moans.

“They say— fuck, you know what they say about rabbits, don’t you, bunny?” His voice was barely audible, but it seemed to echo on and on and on in your overly sensitive ears. His cock ground against something softened and vulnerable inside of you and your back arched, your pussy clenching impossibly tighter around him. “That’s it,” Suguru encouraged, as you tried to pry yourself away from his freezing tail and chase the gentle warmth of his chest. “They say bunnies make the best sluts. Knock them up once, and they’ll never stop begging for it.”

Kits. A strong mate. A safe nest. The thought alone had you crying out for nothing, your convulsions growing that much more erratic, and Suguru chuckled in-turn. “Like that? Want me to make you into my little mate-whore?”

“Want it, please, w-want it so bad.” It was all you could do to force yourself to speak, to spit something out through the daze of lust and exhaustion and total, unrelenting fullness. You’d never been more sure of anything than you were in that moment, never knew something as deeply as you knew that you wanted Suguru’s kits inside of you. “Please, wanna be you mate, wanna—Suguru—!”

One more thrust, one more scape of his sleek scales against your clit, and you were coming undone around his cock in jolting, erratic convulsions. Suguru let out a ragged grunt and straightened his back, but the distance was short-lived. Strong arms snaked under your knees, spreading your legs and hauling you up to his height. Your back remained pressed against his chest as he pulled out of you entirely and slammed back in. Even through the overstimulation, the wrongness hit you immediately. His cock was too big, too thick, and—

And he was inside of you.

Completely inside of you.

You forced yourself to open your eyes, letting your head fall forward limply. The shock was minimal, but still devastating – both of Suguru’s cocks buried inside of you to their pitch-black bases, their outlines just barely visible against the plush flesh of your lower stomach. “You—You promised you wouldn’t—”

His face was buried in the dip of your shoulder, his lips parted as panted against you. You felt his teeth catch on your skin before sinking into you, had time to process the pure heat of his venom seeping into your veins. Instantly, anything you might’ve said died on your tongue, your mind going utterly, entirely blank save for a single thought: mate.

Your mouth fell open, your thighs spreading that much farther. Suguru pressed a lingering, open-mouthed kiss into the injection site, then pulled away, grinning wildly. “A few drops, and you’ll want everything I have to give you,” he muttered. “That’s better, isn’t it, bunny?”

Much better. You could feel something swelling at the base of his cock, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge anything other than the utter bliss as a small, round shape was milked up the length of his cock and emptied into your core. Kits, you thought, and did your best to settle onto his twin cocks, to hold still as another egg was forced through your tight pussy. You stopped trying to count after the fourth – giving in completely to the shuddering, splintering euphoria every new member of your little family brought you. By the time the final egg was safe and snug inside of you, you were limp, twitching, and so full, it was hard to imagine ever feeling empty again.

As the last aftershocks started to fade, Suguru sucked in a stilted gasp and pulled you flush against his chest. You felt his second cock twitch once, then twice inside of you before something warm and thick flooded into your pussy. You whined miserably as he pulled out of you, but he didn’t stay gone for very long. Your pliable body was turned around in his arms, his cocks slid back into your leaking cunt as he carefully lowered himself onto the floor of his nest – your body laid on top of his. You strung your arms around his neck and pressed yourself against his chest, closing your eyes and giving in to your well-earned exhaustion.

You lasted just long enough to hear him mutter something about mates and clutches before your consciousness faded entirely and your mind went mercifully, blissfully silent.

~

Hours later, you woke up to the sound of a low, long whistle. “Really did a number on the poor thing, huh, Suguru?”

It took you a second to blink your eyes open, to raise your head and glance toward the man standing at the top of the ladder that led to Suguru’s nest, and another to recognize him as Suguru’s owner. His white hair was in a state of disarray, his eyes hidden behind circles of tinted glass, and for some reason, he was looking at you. You shrunk further into Suguru, but he only laughed – the noise loud and piercing to your foggy senses.

Suguru’s cocks were no longer inside of you, the flushed tips just barely visible at the base of his slit. You were still on his chest, and his arms were wrapped around your waist, his hold loose but possessive. There was a small bump over your lower stomach, and you weren’t sure whether to grimace or beam at the feeling of Suguru’s eggs shifting inside of you with every little movement. He was already awake – had been for some time, judging by the unimpressed scowl pressed into his lips. Something sharp and icy lodged itself into your chest, but his glare was directed towards his owner, not you, and the very tip of his tail curled around your ankle protectively as his owner stepped into his nest.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to walk into a serpent’s den?”

“I don’t think it counts if I own the den.” He straddled the bulk of Suguru’s tail, then gestured to you. “Turn the pretty baby around. I wanna see the damage.”

You shook your head vehemently, clinging to Suguru’s neck, but his own response was an exasperated sigh, a fleeting hiss to your cheek as he flipped you over; leaving you slayed across his chest and exposed to his owner’s prying gaze. “Five minutes,” he said, as his owner shrugged the waistband of his pants down just far enough to free his cock, already half-hard, already enough to send a bolt of pure dread from your heart to the pit of your stomach. “I don’t want your scent on my mate.”

You opened your mouth, ready to whine that you were sore, that you were tired, that you didn’t want anyone but Suguru and your kits inside of you, but the words withered into nothing on your tongue as his owner eased himself into your dripping pussy, as Suguru caught you by the chin and pulled you into a shallow, lingering kiss – the points of his fangs just barely scraping over your bottom lip. Looking back on it, it had been silly to ever worry that he’d eat you.

You should’ve been worried that he wouldn’t.

[mamasfavourite]

queen cobra

pairing: axel kovaćevic x reader

summary: the captain of cobra kai catches the eye of the captain of the iron dragons and manages to deal with her teammates and her crush on axel!

warnings: mentions of abuse, some swearing, kissing, fluff, little bit of angst and a little implication of smut at the end, kwon is alive, axel is a sweetheart, kreese is rotting in jail !

cobra kai was never your preferred environment, but you fought to survive there, even when the others tried to influence you. you were a good person and you stood by that. you just had to mask it when in the dojo. it’s not like you would be there long, the dojo was just a way to the sekai takai for you.

and you fought like fucking hell for your spot as captain.

you even dealt with the endless bullshit literally everyone except kwon and tory threw your way. before karate, you had trained boxing and taekwondo, mastering both of them. so, it was easy to say you had the highest kick of everyone your team.

which really did come in handy in moments like this! like when kwon started a stupid bet with miyagi-do over whose kicks were highest. the highest anyone had gone was some kid from the russian team named vlad.

169cm.

kwon hid you for the time being, as the miyagi-do male captain and him faced off in front of the crowd of sekai takai contestants. when they shook hands, you watched as he put chalk to his shoe and swung his leg as high as he could.

175cm.

the crowd cheered, surprised by the height he had managed. you and kwon only laughed. he stepped to the side to let you foward. “show them, captain.”

you grabbed the chalk from the ground and locked eyes with robby as you rubbed it on your shoe. you kicked as high as you could, marking an almost inhumanely high point on the wooden whale statue.

you had to admit you couldn’t eyeball the measurements on that one, but you had won by far.

there was a mixture of gasps and applause as your cobras immediately crowded around you, celebrating your easy victory. you stepped foward to the miyagi-do’s, and stuck out your hand to accept your prize.

a whole room to yourself!

you and the cobras were walking back to the hotel. you all had met up with sensei kim at a karate gym on the other side of the city, and were only now getting back. you walked ahead of the others, not really wanting to speak to them right now.

as you entered the hotel reception, you noticed a few familiar people your age, they were most likely from the same dojo. you were walking quite slow so you had time to observe.

on the couches were, a dark skinned girl, who was chewing loudly and texting on her phone and an asian boy, who seemed to be staring into nothing at all.

as you turned your attention back straight, you saw an incredibly cute boy, he looked european to you in some way, maybe scandinavian.. or slavic? you didn’t care! he towered over you, and you took a second to appreciate his features, his messy brown hair and dark green eyes, his sculpted face and built arms.

you shot him a flirty smile as you kept walking, which almost made him drop the plates he was carrying.

“axel! what the fuck? can’t you hold a plate?” the girl from the couch called out. ‘oh so she was a bitch!’ you thought, but dismissed it as you continued walking, the cobras following closely behind, chuckling at the scene.

how could he! he was such a fucking prick. yoon was already getting on your nerves but you lost your shit when he was bitching at you just because you were chosen captain over him.

you unknowingly stomped past your locker room, and accidentally pushed into the wrong one. but you heard something and quieted down. you heard loud, echoing grunts, hits and yells of “ais!”

you snuck to the doorframe, sneakily peering inside and seeing the cute boy from the lobby the day before. he was training with his sensei, delivering strike after strike to the punching mitts ahead of him.

he was insanely focused, and incredibly strong. even through the gi, you could tell he was built. the force behind his punches were insane, but his sensei withdrew from him immediately.

“what are you doing wrong?” his sensei yelled firmly and all of a sudden the incredibly powerful demeanour axel had just flaked away. he flinched as the older man threw the mitts to the floor.

you watched as his sensei struck the poor boy, you had almost grown attached to. not once, not twice. you could tell he had to hold himself back after the third time. he picked up the mitts and commanded axel to continue.

but before he even landed a second punch, the mitts were on the floor again and axel was being hit. you heart hurt to watch it. you let out a soft gasp.

axel turned his head at the sound and saw you, you shot him a sad smile and walked through the hallway, hearing his sensei yell at him as you kept walking forward.

the cobras wanted to go somewhere and get drunk, and as their captain, you had to go. plus you had secretly hoped you might bump into the guy you had been crushing on for the last two days.

kwon was slumped against the counter, trying to maintain a conversation with you, but miserably failing. yoon and the others were standing around tory, trying to make their lazy advances that seemed to go completely unnoticed.

“씨발, 나 산책하러 가야 돼.. 안전하게 지내라, 얘들아 (fuck this, i’m going on a walk, get home safe boys.)” tory practically growled at you, still insulted by the fact she couldn’t speak your language but the remainder of the team telling you goodnight or to stay safe.

you left your half empty bottle of beer on the counter as you walked out, heading straight for the beach. it was calm, and quiet, and for a second you thought you heard the same sounds as earlier.

“ais! ais!” you heard and you recognised the voice, turning to watch as axel stood a couple metres away from you, shirtless, practising his kata. you watched for a couple moments before you spoke up.

“that’s a really cool kata, what’s it called?” he immediately turned around. he smiled at the sight of you and answered softly, “it’s called enpi.”

you nodded and were about to answer before he spoke again, “i don’t mean to be rude, but it’s a pretty common kata, and you’re an incredible fighter, i’m shocked you don’t know it.”

you looked at the floor for a second, before meeting his eyes, as they watched you. “it’s okay! i’m originally a kick-boxer and i studied taekwondo, so that’s my more proficient area.. i can apply a lot of it to karate though so it’s perfect!”

he nodded and gave you a small smile as he continued the conversation with you. “you’re incredibly strong in karate, i wouldn’t have noticed!” he spoke to you.

you stepped closer to him and brushed his arm. “thank you, you’re very strong, i mean clearly.” you said, trying to make it clear you were flirting with him. “i-thank you.” his smile turned bashful and he felt his cheeks heat up.

“you’re amazing.” he said, and immediately paused to reformulate his statement. “i-mean your dojo’s amazing!” you beamed at him. he was honestly so cute you wanted to squeal sometimes.

you smiled, about to speak but he beat you to it once more. “can i join?” he asked you, and you immediately felt yourself get kind of excited at the idea.

“the cobras? i mean, the boys are stupid but kwon’s okay, he just tries to overcompensate when he’s around others but he’s such a sweetheart i promise-“ you began to ramble.

“i meant your walk..” he replied, almost annoyed with himself that he interrupted you once more. you smiled at him once more and accepted. “of course!” you watched as he turned around to grab his jacket.

your eyes fixed on his back, and the scars covering it. you touched them experimentally and felt his body tense under your hand. “i-i’m sorry.. are you okay?” you asked him, empathy laced in your voice.

he quickly grabbed his jacket and put it on, hiding his back from you. “i’m okay.” he quickly dismissed you. you slid your hand into his and nodded somberly. the pair of you started to walk towards the footpath.

you responded to him. “you don’t have to talk to me about it, but i know what it’s like to have an abusive sensei and it’s always okay to not be okay.” you turned your head to face him as he did the same for you.

“thank you. it means a lot.” he smiled softly as you both stood still and he stared at your face. you asked him to lean down a little bit, claiming you had a “secret” to whisper to him.

once he was close enough to your height, you reached onto your tippy toes and gave him a soft peck on the cheek. you let out a soft giggle as you did and he could’ve sworn he felt his heart beat out of his chest.

you had stumbled upon the cobras, well not all of them, but yoon and a few others. they were clearly drunk and yoon smirked as he saw you. “y/nnn, who’s the guy?” yoon asked, cockily as he dragged out the last letter.

axel’s hand tightened protectively against yours.

“who would’ve thought our captain’s with the enemy..” another boy pressed behind him, and you couldn’t quite make out who it was but it enraged you. you replied to them sharply, with authority.

“you know, i’m sure sensei kim would love to hear that her star fighter was being preyed on by a bunch of drunk losers on her team.” that’s when the remainder of the cobras scattered, but yoon stood in place. you were loosing your patience, and so was axel.

“and i’m sure sensei kim would love to hear that her star fighter is fucking around with some pussy off the hong kong team.” yoon cockily challenged you, but axel stepped forward instantly.

you put a hand on his chest and pushed him back, reassuring him you’d handle it but he kept his fists clenched in preparation.

you stepped towards yoon and spoke to him loudly. “지난번에 팀원 중에 나한테 엉뚱한 짓을 한 사람이 있었던 걸 기억나? (remember what happened the last time someone on the team fucked with me?)” he swallowed and waited for you to continue.

“그러니 그런 일이 일어나기 전에 빨리 호텔로 돌아가세요. (so get your pussy ass back to the hotel before it happens to you).” and with that, he sprinted in the opposite direction, following after his teammates.

you turned back to axel and smiled, “i’m so sorry, you had to be there for that.” you spoke softly to axel and you felt his rough hands envelope yours. “it’s okay, i’m sorry you have to put up with that.” he answered. gazing into your eyes.

“it’s okay, it’s not your fault. it’s all you expect from egotistical teenage boys.” you smiled a little, trying to lighten the mood a little bit.

“i’m not like that, am i?” he asked you, worried that he was like them. you instantly shook your head. “nonono, axel, not at all.” your gaze flicked between his lips and his eyes and he noticed it.

he held himself back, with the worry that you may have only done it as a mistake, or a way to make sure he was comfortable. he released one of your hands and the pair of you kept light conversation as you walked.

outside your hotel, he stopped. “we’re in the same hotel, axel, we don’t need to split up.” you turned to face him and watched as his brow furrowed slightly, in thought. he brushed a strand of hair away from your face.

you leant into his touch and looked up at him, knowing it was his way of making a move. you reached as high as you could to put a hand on the back of his neck, and the other rested on his chest as you pulled him into you.

his lips met yours. they were soft and you couldn’t help yourself. his hands reached down to your waist before he pulled away.

“we should probably go to our rooms now.” he said, and you giggled softly, once again, still excited from your kiss. you nodded in agreement, as you held hands again and walked to the elevator.

as soon as the doors shut, he couldn’t help himself any more and pressed you softly against the wall as you continued what you had done just a few minute prior, outside the hotel.

except this time, it was deeper, and it was hungry. his hands wandered over your body, tapping under your thighs, telling you to jump, and as you did, his strong arms held you, kneading at the flesh there as he continued to attack your lips.

at some point, when the pair of you were so wrapped up in eachother, the elevator doors opened. he frowned as you pulled away from him and commanded him jokingly to “put you down!”

he did, and just as you were about to leave, he spoke up once more. “let me walk you back.” and you accepted, still giddy from your stolen kisses.

once you reached your door you smiled and leant up to peck him on the cheek. “goodnight, axel!” and just as you turned around he grabbed your wrist and pulled you to him once more.

he kissed you one last time before you went inside. “goodnight beautiful.” he smiled as he started walking away. it took you too seconds before you called after him, dragging him back once more.

“axel, i do have a room to myself… if you wanted to put it to good use?”

[lowkeyrobin]

Hawk x sensitive!reader where even after he becomes all "tough" and "badass" he's still gentle with reader. I just need fluff and everything is so sickly sweet like I want my teeth to rot.

- ♠️

(again i forgot which one it was)

YES OMG ☹️☹️☹️☹️ ; I'm screaming and crying were gonna fight wtf ; thank u for requesting some cobra kai stuff love u bae ; also sorry ab this cause I had no idea what to do here

HAWK MOSKOWITZ ; the one i love

summary ; while hawk is off becoming mean and badass, he's still nice to you, knowing you're kind of sensitive, and he doesn't want to lose his s/o

warnings ; language, talk of physical violence

track ; dedicated to the one i love, the mamas & the papas

word count ; 849

masterlist

Eli, these past few months, had changed. A lot. You didn't know whether you liked it or not either. He wasn't even Eli anymore, he was Hawk.

He'd taken on karate, got a new haircut, and completely changed his demeanor and personality. You couldn't lie, he looked cool, especially while showing off his moves, but what wasn't cool was him getting into unnecessary drama.

You'd seen some things online, though you tend not to stick around for any of it. You were caught up by Eli himself, considering you did online school. The bullying from Sam LaRusso and her friends had gotten too bad long ago, forcing you to hide away for the rest of your high school career.

You considered this transition good for Eli, as he was turning a new page in his story. He was able to defend himself, he was confident, and he wasn't being bullied anymore. But, at the same time, he was unrecognizable.

It wasn't in a bad way, not yet, at least. But this "Hawk" guy, wasn't your boyfriend, Eli. You fell into the arms of Eli Moskowitz, not Hawk.

Thankfully, he knew how to retain his relationship. Thank God his standards didn't raise, nor did his ego, as he changed.

You were slightly sensitive, you'd say, kind of emotional, mentally thin, maybe.

You had a bad day, though. That's all that mattered in this second.

You were trying to deep clean your room because it was nasty, and you were already mad. Nothing was working how you wanted it to. Your grades were dropping because you were becoming depressed and unmotivated, and you just wanted to see your boyfriend again. But of course, he'd been busy with karate and working out.

You yell out of pure frustration as you throw a pillow across the room toward your door before crashing onto your bed.

"Ow"

You quickly look up to see Eli standing in your doorway, having been hit by that pillow.

"Fuck, sorry" You mumble, proceeding to hide your face in another pillow that lays on your bed.

He slowly and cautiously steps in your room, picking up the thrown cushion. "What's wrong?"

"...Bad day"

He frowns, "What's wrong?"

You look up at him, spiky hair immediately catching your attention. "Can you wash out the gel before talking to me? You're intimidating looking like a badass"

He chuckles with a nod, "Yeah, I'll be right back"

You couldn't stand the mohawk. It intimidated you, like you were gonna be the next victim of his karate moves. He understood as you'd been honest about it long ago, and would often wash out his hair in the sink and use a towel to then dry his hair.

Now, his roots were dark brown, while the midsection to ends were bright blue. You'd helped him dye it, the reasoning why the bathroom sink was just barely stained with blue in the bowl.

He re-enters the room, his hair now damp, but un-styled. He sits on the bed beside you, allowing you to sit in silence with a pillow pressed against your face.

You slowly pull it away, looking up at him. You flop your back onto your mattress, staring at the ceiling.

"What's up?" He asks, his eyes gazing upon your tired and stressed expression.

You shrug, sitting up. "I hate online school, I have essentially no friends or hobbies, my proctors are shoving thirty assignments on me while I'm depressed and I need to do a million fucking other things-"

He quickly pulls you into a hug, silencing you. You accept his hug, arms draped around his shoulders as you rest your head on one of his shoulders. He does the same for you, his arms slung around your torso instead.

You groan, hiding your face from the light.

He lightly rubs your back, just trying to show you some comfort.

He speaks up after a solid minute of silence, letting you calm yourself down. "Do you want to get into karate? Or at least meet my friends? A lot of them would really like to meet you"

You shrug, unsure.

"It's okay if you don't want to"

You shrug again, your words mumbled from between his shoulder. "What if they don't like me cause I'm not like them?"

He smiles, a light chuckle escaping his lips. "Trust me, they're not gonna make fun of you or not like you in any way unless you give them a reason. And that in itself is pretty much impossible"

You nod, "Thanks"

"Is there any way I can help with your school stuff? What needs done? What can I do for you?"

"Calm down, Eli. I'll be fine. It's just when there's a lot on my mind, I stress out for no reason I guess. Like, I know everything'll be okay but... I dunno" You shrug, pulling away from his arms. "But thank you"

He nods, laying down on the bed beside you. "You tired? I am"

You nod with a smile, pulling him close to cuddle with him.

"Agh- your grip is insane!"

"Sorry"

[allthesmutl0vers]

Dating Fred and George Weasley Headcanons

MDNI, 18+, NSFW

Masterlist Requests/Asks: OPEN (please read) Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader x George Weasley Request: Not a request just wanted to write to fight writer's block. TW: Sexual Situations, Kinks, Some Fluff, Pseudo-Twincest A/N: I feel like I ate with this, tbh. Been working on it for two mf days. 😮‍💨💞 I hope you enjoy! Comment here if you want to be added to the tag list for any/all HP content.

Please feel free to let me know how you feel about this. Comments and reblogs are always appreciated. ✨💞

How you got together:

You had been friends with them forever, but you never expected them to have the same feelings towards you as you did for them. None of you were willing to admit it until it was called out by Ginny and her loud ass mouth when she told you guys to 'just fucking kiss already, for Merlin's sake.'

They had just finished a match against Slytherin and won, of course, so their adrenaline was already flooding. You had opened your mouth to fire back at Ginny with some sarcastic ass comment when Fred grabbed your face and smashed his lips to yours, stealing the breath right out of your lungs.

When Fred finally pulled back, your head was in a daze, and before you could suck in a breath, George grabbed you by your waist, dipped you, and kissed you with the same passionate intensity.

After that, everything else was history, and the only thought any of you could form was, 'Why didn't we do this sooner?'

Fred

Song that best describes your relationship with Fred:

Good Girls Go Bad - Cobra Starship (Iykyk)

Nicknames he has for you:

Darling: His go-to nickname, he uses it all of the time.

Love: Uses this one when he is being extra lovey, or giving you presents.

Sweetheart: (this one is for when you're in trouble and he wants you to know it)

Kinks:

Biting: Fred loves to bite you while he's fucking you. Leaving trails of bite marks all over your neck and going down your collarbones and, especially, between your thighs when he's eating you out. Though he never breaks the skin, he does bite hard enough to bruise. Fred's biggest turn-on is the sounds that leave your lips when he bites down hard and then licks and kisses the same spot, melting pain with pleasure until you can't tell the difference.

Bit of an exhibitionist: Nothing revs Fred up more than the risk of getting caught, especially if it's George walking in when he has you bent over, face down, ass up. He knows you're with George, too, but it's not necessarily about who catches you two in the act. It's about simply being caught.

"Looks like we've been caught, darling," he taunts with a dark chuckle and pulls your head back by your hair to make you look at George while he pile drives into you from behind. "Show Georgie how good I make you feel. Come on, let him hear how I make you scream."

Begging: Hearing you beg, 'Just fuck me already,' almost makes him break and do it. His response? Shoving his cock down your throat, all the while taunting you with little phrases like, 'What was that, darling? Didn't quite catch that,' or 'But you look so good, down on your knees begging for me.' He will definitely give you what you want, but only after tears are running down your cheeks as your need becomes almost too much to bear. Almost. He's not a complete sadist, after all.

Honorable Mentions:

Hair Pulling I mean, need I say more?

Teasing at the MOST inappropriate times, family dinner? Ha, his fingers are right at the apex of your thighs, silently challenging you to keep your facial expressions schooled.

Breeding Kink: You think he doesn't fantasize about filling you up so fucking full with cum, that it's only thanks to your birth control you haven't gotten pregnant yet? That's fucking adorable.

Favorite Positions:

Face down, ass up: What's not to love? It's the perfect position for Fred to slam into you at the brutal pace that leaves you cock-drunk. Perfect for him to either hold your hips still or slam you back onto his cock to match his pace, all the while leaving perfect little fingertip bruises on your hips. Even better is when he pulls you back, flush to his chest, a large hand holding just under your chin, supporting your weight while he leaves a trail of bite marks down your neck and shoulders while you whimper and plead for mercy, not that you actually want it, he just loves to hear you beg.

Against a wall: Being the exhibitionist he is, Fred will fuck you any and everywhere. An empty classroom, a broom closet, the locker room after an intense quidditch match, win or lose, he doesn't care. So long as he gets you. But there is just something about holding you up with your legs wrapped around him, back pinned to the wall (or a locker), that makes Fred fucking feral. The way he can watch your pupils blow with arousal, your lips part and quiver as your orgasm crashes into you like a fucking freight train, the way you tug on his hair as if you're trying to keep some semblance of grounding as you feel your soul leave your body. Fuck, he's sure he's never seen a more beautiful sight in his entire life.

Spit roasting: When you're on all fours on the bed (or anywhere, really), and he pounds into you while you suck off George. Fucking you so hard it forces you to take more of George down your throat. What are brothers for? He's not sexually attracted to George, but there's nothing like watching you take his other half while he slams into you. Both of them work in a delicious and synchronized rhythm, filling you up so full that you might just burst, will burst. Body trembling while George offers you sweet praise and Fred reaches around your body, rubbing tight and fast circles over your clit; all the while, they drag you further and further down to hell or up to heaven. Is there even a difference anymore?

Random Head Canons:

Fred is more possessive, not so much that you're not allowed to have friends of the opposite sex. He knows full well he can trust you to tell him if someone makes you uncomfortable. He knows damn well you're not going to be fucking around with anyone else, given how fucking incredible he and George make you feel. Possessive in the aspect that he will brutally, if not mercilessly, prank anyone who so much as looks at you in any way that isn't platonic.

When you chastise him for these methods, he stops because you are bloody terrifying when you're truly angry. He switches to pulling you onto his lap or brushing your hair over your shoulder in front of them to reveal the litter of bite marks he made or the hickies that George made all over your neck, all with the cockiest fucking smirk on his face.

Fred's Ideal Date: While he loves being buried deep inside of you, he loves treating you to an adventure. His favorite? Walking into the forbidden forest, finding the perfect place to swim (he found the best swimming hole with a ledge to jump off of.) In the warmer months, he'll pack a lunch and take you here, loving the adrenaline rush of jumping and diving off of the small cliff ledge. Swimming behind the waterfall and exploring the caves inside with you. In the colder months, he will challenge you to a snowball fight in the courtyard, George is allowed, too, of course, but one of them will always be on your side against the other. Otherwise it's not really fair, is it?

George

Song that best describes your relationship with George:

Ride - SoMo

Nicknames he has for you:

Baby/Baby girl: Uses this as a placement for your name.

Little One: Uses this when he's teasing you; typically whispers it in your ear when his hands are around your waist. Or when he is watching Fred fuck you before he steps in and joins.

Mine/Ours: Uses this one the most in the bedroom when either he or both of them are fucking you.

Kinks:

Hickies: While Fred loves biting, George is a little more gentle. Note that I said a little. He'll fuck you like a whore in church, but he prefers to drag out the pleasure by sucking the soft skin right behind your ear all the way down your body down to your clit, right to his favorite part on your body, which brings me to my next point-

Eating you out: Holy. Fucking. Shit. If this was an Olympic sport, George would take the gold every single fucking time. Sure, Fred knows how to send you over the edge, but George takes his time. Licking and sucking your clit with slow, purposeful movements, drawing out sounds from your throat that sound inhuman. The way his fingers curl just fucking right inside of you, thrusting against that spongy spot inside of you, scissoring them to spread your walls and thrust his tongue in and out. Seriously, this man would live between your thighs if he could. Sending you over the edge again and again with just his devilish fucking tongue and fingers, he gets off on that shit, literally. This man has cum simply from eating you out before.

Edging: Remember how I said George is 'a little more gentle'? This is what I meant by that. George's favorite hobby when he's buried deep inside of you is bringing you right up to the edge, then pulling out, leaving you feeling empty as your walls clamp around nothing. You whine, and you whimper, and suddenly, he thrusts into you with a snap of his hips. Only to do it all over again.

"You want me to fill you up, baby? Is that what you want?" He teases as he only pushes his tip inside. You try to rock against him, to take him in deeper to satisfy the craving inside of you. "Hmm, I'm not sure you deserve it," he taunts as his thumb lands on your clit. Just as you open your mouth to beg, his hand grips your throat, and he slams into you so hard you see stars, his cock buried so deep that you swear you can feel him in your guts as he finally lets you cum with an Earth-shattering cry around him.

Honorable Mentions:

Choking: Because you know what would make you even more beautiful? A hand necklace. His, to be specific.

Bit of a voyeur: He loves watching you get pounded hard and fast when he typically fucks you hard and slow. The way your face contorts slightly differently when Fred is fucking you amuses him like no other.

Breeding Kink to the fucking MAX: He wants your pussy flooded with cum, if some spills out? No big deal, he'll fuck it right back into you. And after you finish school? Yeah, that shit is going into the fucking trash. (But you have no arguments, tbh.)

Favorite Positions:

Riding him: Guiding your hips, thrusting up into you as your hands rest on his chest to hold yourself up. Sure, George is dominant. But that doesn't love to see the look on your face above him as you come apart, over and over again, until you're a sweaty, shaky mess. George doesn't mind reverse- cowgirl, but he'd much rather see your face as his hand wraps around your throat just hard enough to make you dizzy as he tosses you over the edge, following right behind you.

Missionary (hear me out): Who says missionary is boring? Not you. Sure, nothing beats a bed, but George prefers you laid out across his desk. Or with your legs thrown over his shoulders, ass hanging over the bed as he stands and pounds into you. His thrusts are slow and firm, sliding into the hilt and then grinding against your core, making damned sure to draw out every last moan your body can produce.

Between him and Fred: George is not biased when it comes to fucking you in your ass or your pussy, if he's honest. So long as you're on your knees on the bed, while he's in either hole while Fred is in the other, both slamming into you with an animalistic ferocity. Filling you up so full with their cum that it'll be dripping out of you for days.

Random Head Canons:

George LOVES it when people stare/flirt with you. It drives Fred up the fucking wall when George doesn't try to brutally prank or show off just how much you're theirs. But it gets George off when guys try to flirt with you only to have a drink thrown at them, or you simply laugh at them before pointing out him and Fred. While Fred's anger is palpable, George just winks at you with a shit-eating grin on his face. Maybe it's the voyeur in him, but he loves watching you interact with people, male or female, because he knows you're not going anywhere except right back to him and Fred.

George's Ideal Date: George loves to fly with you on his broom, you in front of him as he grips the broom between your thighs. His favorite time to do it is at night, flying up so high you swear you can almost touch the stars as you soar over the clouds. You know this is what you two are doing when he bundles you up in one or maybe two of his sweaters. Because Merlin forbid you get cold. If it's too cold to fly or it's snowing, he loves to take a walk to Hogsmeade and share a butterbeer. So long as he's spending time with you, he couldn't be happier.

I hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I loved writing it. Please don't forget to reblog and comment! ✨✨🤞🏻😇

[extinctlesspains]

Your Kwin fics are amazing! Can I request one where he and the reader and both part of Cobra Kai and have been dating for years and one of the guys from Miyagi-Do develops a crush on the reader at the Sekai Taikai and tries to hit on her making Kwon mad and he fights him?

𝑂𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒: 𝐾𝑤𝑜𝑛 𝐽𝑎𝑒-𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑔

𝐵𝑦 𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠

»»——⍟——««

»»——⍟——««

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝐾𝑤𝑜𝑛 𝐽𝑎𝑒-𝑆𝑢𝑛𝑔 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐾𝑤𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑜𝑔𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑎 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑆𝑒𝑘𝑎𝑖 𝑇𝑎𝑖𝑘𝑎𝑖 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑏𝑦 𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒. 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑠 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑎 𝑏𝑜𝑦 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑀𝑖𝑦𝑎𝑔𝑖 𝑑𝑜 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠 𝑓𝑙𝑖𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑦𝑜𝑢?

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠:𝑓𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑝𝑒𝑡 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑠, 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑌/𝑛, 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔.

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

You and Kwon had been through everything together—years of training, fighting side by side, and, most importantly, building something lasting. There was no denying that you both came from different worlds. You were raised on the values of Cobra Kai: strength, discipline, and an unyielding sense of competition. Kwon, though, was different. He embodied Cobra Kai's fierce loyalty, but there was something more about him—something that made him a perfect fit for you. You’d both been through the toughest of times, and yet, here you were, together, stronger than ever.

The Sekai Taikai tournament was upon you, the stakes higher than they’d ever been before. Cobra Kai was going to represent South Korea on the global stage, and you were determined to show the world what true Cobra Kai strength looked like. Kwon was by your side, as always, but there was something about this tournament that felt different. With all the rivalries brewing, you could feel the tension in the air.

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・

The competition was fierce, and you were in the middle of preparing for your next round when you caught sight of him. It was one of the Miyagi-Do guys—Demetri. He had always been quiet and reserved, like most of the Miyagi-Do students, but there was something different about him now. He was hanging around the dojo area, his eyes constantly flicking over to you.

You tried to ignore it at first, chalking it up to nerves before a big match. But then, the more you saw him, the more you noticed how often he lingered near you during practice. You’d catch his gaze more than once, and every time you looked back at him, his eyes seemed to brighten.

"Hey, Y/N," Demetri said one evening, pulling you out of your thoughts as you were stretching by the sidelines. "I wanted to ask you something."

You glanced up, surprised by his sudden approach. "Yeah? What’s up?"

He scratched the back of his neck nervously, clearly not as confident as his words suggested. "I... I think you're incredible. You’ve been killing it in the tournament, and... well, I’ve been watching you for a while now." He hesitated. "I wanted to know if you wanted to grab a drink or something after the match. You know, just to talk. I think we could really get along."

You blinked, unsure of how to respond. You hadn’t expected this at all—especially not from someone from Miyagi-Do. You opened your mouth to say something, but then, you felt it—a presence behind you.

Kwon had appeared without a sound, his eyes dark and intense as he looked from you to Demetri. His jaw tightened.

“You should be careful who you talk to,” Kwon said, his voice cool but edged with something that made Demetri stiffen.

Demetri blinked, caught off guard. “I was just—”

“I heard you,” Kwon interrupted. His gaze never left Demetri. “My girlfriend’s not interested. And if you’re looking to get a drink, maybe you should try one of your own Miyagi-Do buddies.”

You felt the tension between them instantly. Demetri took a step back, clearly rattled by Kwon's cold, controlled demeanor. But Kwon wasn’t finished. He looked at you with that protective intensity you knew so well. “You good?” he asked, his voice softer now, but the possessiveness in his tone was unmistakable.

You nodded, feeling a little uncomfortable with the sudden tension. “I’m fine, Kwon.”

But Demetri wasn’t backing down so easily. “I don’t think you have to act like that,” he said to Kwon, his voice rising with a hint of challenge. “It’s just a drink. I don’t think your girlfriend needs to be controlled like that.”

Kwon’s eyes narrowed, his fists clenching at his sides. "You’re making a mistake," he said in a low growl. "Keep it up, and we’ll see how well your Miyagi-Do values hold up in a fight."

Demetri’s eyes widened, but there was no turning back now. He stepped forward, chest puffed out. "I’m not scared of you."

Kwon’s lips curled into a tight, dangerous smile. “You should be."

Before you could even step in to calm things down, Kwon lunged forward, pushing Demetri back into the side of the ring, knocking over a few of the training dummies in the process. The noise was deafening as Kwon's fists landed with precision. Demetri tried to counter, but Kwon was relentless—moving with an ease that only years of Cobra Kai training could give.

"Kwon, stop!" you shouted, rushing to intervene, but Kwon wasn’t listening. Demetri was on the ground now, trying to catch his breath.

"You don’t talk to my girl," Kwon said, his voice cold and filled with fury as he stood over Demetri. "Got it?"

Demetri nodded, his face pale as he struggled to stand up. Kwon didn’t let him. “I said, got it?”

"Yeah, yeah. Got it," Demetri stammered, looking terrified.

Kwon stepped back, his body tense and ready for anything. “Good,” he muttered, turning to you with an unreadable expression on his face.

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・

Later that evening, you found Kwon in the corner of the Cobra Kai dojo, wiping his hands with a towel. His face was hard, but you could see the remnants of anger still burning in his eyes. You walked up to him, placing a hand on his arm.

“Kwon...” you started, unsure of how to even begin the conversation. “You didn’t have to do that. I could’ve handled it.”

Kwon’s gaze softened, just a little. He turned to face you, his eyes still intense but now filled with concern. “I know you could’ve handled it. But I don’t want anyone thinking they can come near you. Especially not him.”

You sighed, stepping closer. "He’s from Miyagi-Do. He didn’t know better."

“I don’t care,” Kwon muttered. "When it comes to you, no one gets to disrespect you like that. Not even him."

You placed a hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat under your palm. "I’m not going anywhere, Kwon. I’m with you."

He looked down at you, his gaze softening, though there was still a protective fire in his eyes. “I don’t care if it's Miyagi-Do, Cobra Kai, or whoever. As long as you’re mine, no one else gets a chance.”

You smiled up at him, your heart swelling with affection. "I’m yours, Kwon. Always."

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・

The next day, as you both prepared for the next round of the Sekai Taikai tournament, you couldn’t help but feel the shift. Kwon’s protective instincts had always been there, but now you knew just how far he’d go to keep you safe.

You shared a moment before the match, standing side by side, preparing yourself mentally for the challenge ahead. "You ready?" Kwon asked, his eyes locking with yours.

You nodded, confidence surging through you. "With you by my side? Always."

The tournament raged on, but no matter what happened next, you knew one thing for sure—nothing could break the bond you had with Kwon. Not a Miyagi-Do crush, not any competition. The fire between you two was unbreakable.

And that, you knew, was the ultimate strength.

The Sekai Taikai tournament would eventually come to a close, but the fire between you and Kwon would never extinguish. You had your ups and downs, but through every fight—whether on the mat or in your relationship—you knew you’d always have each other’s backs. And in the world of Cobra Kai, that was the only thing that truly mattered.

[momolady]

Kirilka the Orc

𝔉𝔢𝔪𝔞𝔩𝔢 ℜ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔵 𝔐𝔞𝔩𝔢 𝔒𝔯𝔠

ℜ𝔬𝔶𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔶 - 𝔄𝔭𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔶 - ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔳𝔶 𝔅𝔦𝔠𝔨𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 - 𝔉𝔬𝔯𝔠𝔢𝔡 𝔓𝔯𝔬𝔵𝔦𝔪𝔦𝔱𝔶 - 𝔄𝔫𝔫𝔬𝔶𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔱𝔬 ℜ𝔬𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔢

When your brother married Tashka, the whole kingdom thought he was insane. What was the future king doing marrying an orc woman? But you knew exactly why he did, because Tashka was exactly what your brother always wanted. Sure, she wasn’t the frail princess everyone imagines for someone like your brother, but he never wanted frail.

“Hurry, the baby!” Your brother was fretting while you were doing the best you could to hobble down the hallway. Since you were little you needed leg braces, now you hold a cane to keep steady.

“Pasha! I am doing the best I can!” You tried to comfort him, after all his first baby was just born a few short days ago. The birth had been hard, but you had studied and trained for all that, helping Tashka through the difficult birth. Now, Pasha was worried about the state of his daughter and wife.

“Is he fussing at you?” Tashka asked softly as you went into the room. “I told him not to worry! I just had a simple question.” She tsked while gazing back down at the baby.

“You said-” Before Pasha could finish, both Tashka and you quietly shushed him.

“What’s the matter Tashka?” You set your cane aside and took your bag from Pasha. “Is she feeding okay?”

“Oh yes,” she said proudly, if not a bit sleepily. “But she’s getting these little bumps around her mouth.” She showed off the baby, pale soft green and already plump. Around her mouth was a bit of small red bumps and dried skin. 

You smiled, gently brushing the soft, fawny hair on her head. “Nothing to worry about. Just a bit of drool rash.” You reached back for your bag. “Nothing a little ointment won’t fix.”

Paha had tears in his eyes already.

“I knew it wasn’t anything too bad.” Tashka’s gentle smile was so beautiful, you could tell why Pasha fell for her. “But Pasha and my brother,” she scoffed.

Ah yes! Tashka’s brother, Kirilka. You had run afoul of him since coming home. He didn’t seem quite trusting of your medical background, despite the years of training you had taken. He seemed assured only orc knowledge would be good enough for his sister and brand new niece.

“Firstborns have the ability to make panic occur with the slightest sound,” you say while applying some of the specialty made ointment to the baby’s mouth, making sure to wipe away excess.

“I’ll say,” Tashka chuckled, glancing towards her husband.

Pasha pouted but then broke into a smile as he took his wife into his arms, hugging her while gazing lovingly at their child.

“I’ll go make you a little kit.” You take your cane back in hand. “So you can be better prepared for rashes and the like.”

Tashka sighed, exhausted and relaxed in the same breath. “Thank you. I’m very relieved knowing this little one is getting the best care..”

You puffed up with pride.

“This little one also still needs a name,” Pasha remarked.

“It’ll come to us,” Tashka mused. “I didn’t get my name until I was a month old.”

You rather liked the orc tradition of letting the baby’s name come naturally. You found it much more personable. “Well, I’ll come back later. You three should rest.” 

“Thank you again,” Pasha sighed.

You nodded, leaving the royal bedchamber and heading back out into the hall. Pasha had made you private work quarters down the hall, but it was still quite the long hall. You were nearly down it when Kirilka started walking up it.

“Dammit,” you grumbled to yourself.

“And what were you called for?” Kirilka grumbled. This beast of a man towered over you, casting a dark shadow wherever he went. Growing up on one of the largest farms in the kingdom, probably on this side of the Cobra Strait, he’d grown up a farm boy, rearing animals, tending to fields and working day in and day out. He was built for it, built for a lot of things probably. His long hair was always tied up into a thick, ropelike braid that he kept coiled up into a bun.

“The baby had a little drool rash, nothing awful, nothing even too concerning. I'm going to make a kit of ointments and the like for them now.” You said sternly, if not a little brusk. 

His amber eyes looked you over, taking in the cane then focusing on your own eyes. You knew you weren’t his version of a healer. You dressed prettily, wearing fancy but comfortable dresses you had collected from your travels for education. Compared to him you were a dumpling beside a steak, that probably also irked him.

“What sort of ointments?” He sounded like he was ready to discourage all your ideas.

You sighed. “Look, Kirilka, I know I’m not the healer you want for your sister. But I’m using my education for what it is for and it is taking care of her and that baby. And you, if you should walk into a doorway.”

He sneered, his upper lip curling ever so slightly. “All I asked was what ointments you were planning on using. Orc skin isn’t like human skin.”

“Oh?” you feigned ignorance. “Is it not?”

He scowled.

You stomped your cane in lieu of your foot. “I’ve been trained in such things, you know! And if you must be so nosy, I am making a comfrey mixture.”

His brow raised slightly. “Comfrey?”

“I did train with orcs at the university,” you scoffed. “We shared our knowledge, rather than test one another.” You continued to try and walk ahead, but to your dismay, Kirilka kept following.

“Kirilka, please,” you huffed. “I’m just doing my job.”

“No,” he snarled, stopping you from continuing forward.

Dammit, you thought. This wasn’t what you wanted today. You knew the tension between you and Kirilka had been building, but you didn’t realize he was willing to throw down over it. Maybe you could get in a few good jabs with your cane. You knew you should have accepted your uncle’s offer of a sword cane. 

“I know how people look at my sister here! I know how we are treated amongst your circle. I also know how I look, and if I can use it to protect my sister and niece I-”

Your mouth hung open. “Protect them? From me?” You slapped your hand against your chest. “I adore Tashka! I brought that baby into the world with my own hands, I would die for that child!” Your voice was raising, your blood was boiling. “Even if I didn't, I took an oath to care for people and see after their health. How dare you?” You stomped towards him, clomping down your cane like you were going to take one of his toes. “I love my family, which now includes you unfortunately! I helped convince my father to accept Tashka! Did you know that? I was almost thrown out of the castle! Protect them?”

Kirilka was backing down now, looking frightened.

“Let me work, farm boy!” You snapped and stormed past him, getting to your office and slamming the door shut. You huffed, glaring into the room. “Who does he think he is?”  

After working for a few hours to distract yourself, you came out of your office, a new baby kit prepared and placed into a beautiful tin. You knew how Tashka liked roses, so you had painted the tin with them just for her. 

You knocked on the bedroom door and waited, admiring your handy work on the tin when the door opened. You smiled to greet your brother, but it was Kirilka. Your smile vanished.

“Quiet,” he whispered. “They’re finally asleep.”

“I’ll just leave this with you then,” you grumbled, offering out the tin.

Kirilka took it. “Wait,” he set the tin inside the door then stepped out himself. “I want to apologize.”

You furrowed your brow. “Really?”

He returned the frown as he gently closed the door behind him. “I didn’t realize all you had done for Tashka.”

“You’ve treated me like scum since I got here. Don’t mind me saying I feel the apology comes a little late.” You then rolled your hand in the air. “But go on.”

Kirilka walked you a little further down the hall, away from the bedchamber. “Ever since Tashka became queen, I have heard the most vile things spoken about her. The past two years my head has been full of them, and being in this castle makes them sound like cannons in my head.”

You sighed. “The moment I met Tashka I liked her. Pasha doesn’t fall in love easily, you know. Surrounded by dancers all his life, I never saw his eyes turn once. Not until Tashka.”

Kirilka looked away, pouting.

 You moved to stand in his line of sight. “I stood up for your Tashka against my father. I stood beside her when she was crowned. And I am going to fight for that little girl to be heir. She’ll be queen one day.” You watched him, waiting. “Now what do you say?”

“I’m sorry,” he growled under his breath.

You cupped your hand around your ear. “What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

“I. Am. Sorry,” he said through gritted teeth. He turned those amber eyes back upon you and huffed. “I misjudged you.”

You nodded in agreement. “That’s right, you did!” A smirk crossed your face. “I’ll forgive you. But that may take time.”

His lip curled and he clicked his teeth. “I get it.”

This was such a good feeling! All this time you wanted to smack him around, now it felt like you’d gotten in the first whack. “But maybe now we can be friends! After all, we’re both the eldest sibling, we should have a lot in common.”

He looked distrustful, eyeing you up and down wondering where the rest of you was.

“That’s right! I came out of the womb first,” you announced proudly, puffing out your chest. “But for health reasons I abdicated my spot to my brother.”

Kirilka’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t even know you were twins.”

“Yes , well, Pasha went on to train in ballet while I read in bed with several illnesses. That can change figures.” You patted your belly. “And hobbling around isn’t the exercise I make it look to be.”

You saw it! He was suppressing a smile!

“I blame it on Pasha sitting on my head in the womb.” You peeked at him again, seeing the corner of his lip curl ever so slightly upwards. “I’ve delivered orc twins, you know?”

“Those are quite rare for us,” he muttered, wiping away any semblance of his previous smile. “How did that go?”

“Very well, my teacher and I together came up with a new method that made the birth easy for the mother and safer for the babies.” You then offered your hand to him. “Since our siblings are asleep, why don’t you and I have tea together?”

He looked unsure, eyes darting away. “I don’t like tea.”

“Then you can eat scones the entire time. Come now, we have a lifetime to deal with one another. The first foot was awful, like mine, but the second foot can be a strong one, like mine.”

He was forcing that smile down hard again, but he took your offered hand, shaking it heartily rather than be delicate. His fingers flexed after touching you. Perhaps he was more used to rougher palms?

He was silent for most of tea, taking sweets and cookies eagerly while you went on and on about your schooling. Afterwards, he made an excuse to leave while you finished the teapot by yourself. 

Over the next few days you passed him in the hall, attempting to make small talk. It took a while, but after a while he began offering more than monosyllabic responses. He was also joining you for tea more often, actually offering you bits and pieces of his life. He had prize cows he loved, bison he raised from birth, and sheep he spent summer nights sleeping beside.

“Where do you harvest your comfrey?” He asked one day, having come into your office with a rather large cut on his palm.

You were cleaning it, using a cloth and a strong alcohol, watching to make sure there was no debris in the cut itself. “I was gifted a plant by a friend of mine at university. I came home and planted it in the garden a few years ago. It’s spread out quite a bit, I have decades worth now.” You were even surprised he came to you with such a wound, but you were glad he did.

“We have large patches of it all around the farm. Our mother loved it,” he murmured.

“Tashka told me she was quite the gardener,” you murmured. You dabbed away some blood and remarked on an old fairytale from your youth. Something about a field mouse and a lion. 

“She loved flowers. Her roses were used during your parents’ wedding. So it’s funny how this all worked out.”

You stilled and looked into his face. The way the light from your small lantern hit his face made him look much handsomer than you were used to seeing. “I didn’t know that.”

He nodded, long lashes falling to his cheek. “They bought every single one she had. I had never seen the farm look so…empty I guess is the word. She worked hard all year to make sure there was enough.”

“Wow.” You were more remarking on how differently he looked, how long his lashes were, how full his lips appeared. You swallowed, trying to hide your blush. “I’ll just put some of said comfrey on here,” you laughed nervously.

“Thanks,” He muttered. 

You bandaged him up, flexing his fingers to make sure nothing was wrong. “There. Should be good as new eventually.” His hand then captured yours, locking his fingers around your own. You looked unsure up at him. “Arm wrestle?” You chuckled.

“Let me thank you.” He pulled you close, closing the gap between you and placing a soft kiss on your lips. Oh, it was heaven! You leaned in, closing your eyes and melting. You then came to your senses and hurriedly pulled back.

“What was that?” You snapped.

Kirilka chuckled. “What do you think?” He focused upon your eyes, freezing you in place with how intense his gaze was. “You impress me. I like a woman who frightens me a little.”

Your stomach flopped. “Oh.”

“You remind me of the ram who guards my sheep. Small, soft, but very ferocious. I’ve seen him take down a mountain lion. I want you to do that to me.”

What was this? Your mind was racing, your heart was trying to keep up with it. Your mouth hung open but you closed it back quickly. “Th-that’s enough out of you!” You stood up quickly. “You should go check on your sister.” Turning around, you tried to ignore him while cleaning up your desk.

“If you’re at all curious, meet me in the garden tonight. Right near your comfrey.” Kirilka got up and left.

You huffed, clutching your chest as the door shut. “Fucking hells! I’ve not been turned on like that before,” you whispered to yourself. You glanced back at the door. “Who the hell does he think he is?”

𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖙𝖜𝖔 𝖓𝖔𝖜 𝖆𝖘 𝖆 𝖋𝖗𝖊𝖊 𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖓 𝖕𝖆𝖙𝖗𝖊𝖔𝖓!

[anemoiashifts]

100 places to shift to.

♡ 100 places to shift to from tv & movie (some of these you could consider books too). organized into categories to the best of my ability.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.

fantasy.

✦ harry potter.

✦ merlin.

✦ his dark materials.

✦ narnia.

✦ good omens.

✦ percy jackson.

apocalyptic.

✦ hunger games.

✦ divergent.

✦ the walking dead.

supernatural.

✦ sabrina the teenage witch.

✦ the chilling adventures of sabrina.

✦ stranger things.

✦ supernatural.

✦ lucifer.

✦ ghostbusters.

✦ buffy the vampire slayer.

✦ angel the series.

✦ teen wolf.

✦ wolf pack.

sci-fy.

✦ doctor who.

✦ star wars.

✦ star trek.

✦ roswell.

✦ avatar.

cartoon.

✦ barbie life in the dream house.

✦ gravity falls.

✦ amphibia.

✦ the owl house.

✦ hazbin hotel.

✦ monster high.

✦ ever after high.

✦ miraculous ladybug.

✦ phineas & ferb.

✦ rick & morty.

✦ my little pony.

✦ care bears.

✦ strawberry shortcake.

✦ adventure time.

✦ star vs the forces of evil.

✦ total drama island.

✦ scooby doo.

✦ bojack horseman.

✦ fairly odd parents.

anime.

✦ hunter x hunter.

✦ sailor moon.

✦ the legend of kora.

✦ saiki k.

✦ naruto.

✦ demon slayer.

✦ cowboy beebop.

✦ little witch academia.

✦ my hero academia.

✦ pokemon.

✦ death note.

crime / mystery.

✦ bones.

✦ criminal minds.

✦ only murders in the building.

✦ sherlock.

thriller / horror.

✦ american horror story.

✦ scream.

✦ scream queens.

✦ locke & key.

drama

✦ euphoria.

✦ shadow hunters.

✦ k12.

✦ the vampire diaries.

✦ the originals.

✦ twilight.

✦ never have i ever.

✦ h2o.

✦ wednesday.

✦ glee.

✦ gossip girl.

✦ pretty little liars.

✦ grey’s anatomy.

✦ skins.

✦ riverdale.

✦ once upon a time.

✦ emily in paris.

✦ victorious.

✦ the umbrella academy.

✦ mean girls.

✦ clueless.

✦ shameless.

✦ the guilded age.

✦ bridgeton.

✦ castle.

✦ law & order.

✦ my babysitters a vampire.

action

✦ maze runner.

✦ spiderverse.

✦ cobra kai.

✦ outer banks.

✦ jurassic park.

slice of life.

✦ gilmore girls.

✦ friends.

✦ that 70’s show.

✦ boy meets world.

✦ full house.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.

♡ whew this took forever to format & find shows considering im not a big tv / movie person at all. hope this helped a few people find some new dr’s !! bye bye :)

[acapelladitty]

the man who would be king

Summary: Working his usual magic at the Iceberg Lounge, Oz slips to the defence of one of his girls after an incident in the club.

Fic Masterlist ☆ AO3

Every king needed a throne to rule from.

Falcone had his office, the set-up of the place so dark and sparse that it was difficult to navigate in the evenings. Hell, even Maroni had designed a special business room which featured a steel table that had been bolted into the ground and bleached regularly to keep the stains from business deals gone wrong from rusting the metal.

But Oz was no king and he needed no throne. His power came from boots on the ground action and a constant flow of motion to ensure that his presence was felt in every corner of the space he claimed as his own. He didn't want to hide away. He wanted people to know his face. To know his name.

Besides, sitting for too long made his foot ache like a whore.

The Iceberg Lounge was his throne and he wove among the crowds like a true man of the people - carefully calculating his patrons, their influence and how many dollars they were going to drink into his pocket after he'd skimmed his cut from the profits.

His little birds were out in full force today and he surveyed the swell of scantily-clad employees as they danced around the floor of the club before heading over to sell marked-up bottles and shots to the pricks who possessed too much money and had ponied up for a seated booth. Sweeping his eyes around, he sought out his favourite little bird of the moment - her choice to wear a vivid reg wig making her an easy target to spot among the clubbers.

His eyes settled on her quickly and his lips instantly snatched back into a snarl as he watched her interact with the table she was serving. From here, he could see that something not great was up. From the clearly guarded way that she stood back from the booth, to the smug look of anger which coated the face of the dark-haired guy who was talking to her.

Sensing blood in the water, Oz picked up pace as he pulled himself over to the unhappy table - weaving his way through the throng of drunken clubgoers with a practised ease despite his troubled gait. Three men, each of them suited to the nines and holding that pompous look that only came from guys who had been born with a silver spoon rammed up their ass, sat around the booth and, as he quickly approached, Oz could hear that two of them seemed content to quietly egg on their friend as he berated his little bird.

"Come sit with us, baby. My friend here has a stiff drink and an even stiffer problem you could maybe help us with," slurring the words loudly, the dark-haired man grasped at her wrist with curled fingers even as she skillfully avoided his touch. "You look like you know what you're doing. Come sit- sit on our laps."

"I'm not a whore." His little bird countered dryly, "You want a fuck? Go out onto the streets like all the other johns. This here's a classy joint."

Only just able to hear her raised words as he approached from behind, Oz smirked at the easy defense of his club and how she stood her ground without fear.

"You think I pay for it? You think I rent whores? Who the fuck do you think i am?"

Pissed off by her words, the man's immediate cut to anger was clear and Oz only just made it to the side of the table as the final question flew from his curled lips. He was not quick enough though as the skinny prick, who was now visibly shaking his fist at his little bird, lifted his hand further and smacked her across the jaw in a vicious, ringing slap.

Without hesitation as his vision bloomed red for a moment, Oz moved with the merciless strike of a cobra as he thrust his hand into the hair of the fucking idiot and slammed his head into the table, ensuring that his face was tilted towards him as it collided with the solid wood.

The guys friends, immediately scared shitless by the sudden appearance of the infamous Penguin in his own club, all remained quiet outside of their muted yells and panicked expressions.

"You put a fucking hand on one of my girls again and I'll cut it off? You hear me, prick?" Oz growled, his grip of the man's hair so tight that he was surprised it wasn't ripping free into his fingers. "You touch any girl in this club and I'll rip your fucking fingers out and feed 'em to your mother!"

His face smushed into the table with so much pressure that his lips were visibly squished and his jaw pressed painfully to the side, the suited idiot spluttered an incomprehensible apology with wide, panicked eyes as his body flailed against the booth.

"I'm- 'm sorry, Mr Penguin. I didn't- I won't do it again."

"Get him the fuck outta here." Oz spat, slamming his other hand on the table - his thick fingers splashing some spilled drink into the eyes of the fucking idiot. He released him at the same time and the man pulled his head up and swiftly stumbled free of the booth. His friends instantly took the warning in stride, collectively standing to their feet and shuffling off towards the exit with sheepish expressions that were reeking with fear.

"You okay, sweetheart?"

Turning to his little bird, he could see that she was shaken up - both by the mild assault and also by his sudden appearance - and he didn't miss the small, almost shy smile that she sent his way as he open watched and fussed over her.

"I'm fine, Oz." She confirmed, her trembling fingers adjusting the edges of the wig that clung to her scalp, "But thanks for that. Those guys have been a pain in the ass all night."

His hand slipped up to rest on her chin, pulling her jaw gently to the side so that he could get a better look at the red mark that was developing at the side of her full mouth.

"All shift, huh? Then go and take an early finish. Your numbers are covered for the night."

"Oz, I'm fine." She protested, her hand coming up to cover his own as she glanced at him with soft eyes, "Besides I haven't made rent yet an-"

Ah.

Dipping his fingers into his inner pocket, Oz snatched free a stack of bills. Visibly marking out an appropriate amount with a practised eye, he stuffed the bills into the small black hip bag she used to hold her cash.

"Landlords." Oz scoffed. "And they say I'm the fucking criminal."

Her gentle hand dropped to follow his and she squeezed his fingers with a grateful expression, "Thank you."

He had always liked her. Even among his other favourites. She was beautiful like them all but she was smart enough to know when to stand her ground and when to play the part she needed to with the punters. Some of the little whispers she had overheard and dropped to him over time had secured him some big deals that cemented his worth in the eyes of Carmine and the family and he wasn't a man to forget his assets.

Plus, she was a hell of a lay. They didn't fuck that much, but the odd night had seen them both hiding out in his office as she spread herself across his desk and gave him something to smile about. He didn't like to mix business and pleasure, the danger of it all the more clear in how Carmine liked to treat his own special ladies after they'd discovered more than he would have liked, but Oz was better than him and he knew how to protect himself.

"Don't mention it, doll." Oz grinned, lips pulling back to show his slightly off-white teeth. "You just keep that kid of yours at school and don't be worrying about this bullshit. How is the boy?"

"Finding it tough." She sighed. "His teacher says there's something up with him, his brain ain't working like it should. Wants him to do some tests about his attention and stuff."

"He's a smart kid. Like his ma."

"Sweet man. Always looking our for us girls." She purred, her hand stroking along the fine silk of his shirt as he straightened to his full height at her obvious attentions.

"You do your bit, sweetheart. All those little bits of information you pick up and feed back to me like little songbirds? Worth your weight in gold."

"You alone tonight, Oz?" Batting her eyelashes at him with obvious intent, Oz couldn't help the flush of arousal that stirred his cock as she continued to rub circles on his stomach.

"Always alone, baby."

"Then show me to the back office and I'll show you something you'll like. Since I've got the night off and all and my sitter ain't expecting me back for another few hours."

Glancing around the pulsing atmosphere of the club as the world continued to spin around him, Oz laced his thick arm around her waist and muttered something so filthy into her ear that even in the flashing, neon lights of the club, he could still see the flush of her cheeks as he led her back to his office.

[jezebelblues]

saturn bound | h.s

summary: in which the world ends in your point of view, alongside your husband.

cw: death, angsty-ish i guess? unedited, grammatically correct in upper case if that tickles ur fancy.

word count: approx 1.4k. she’s a shortie

| this is in first person! (perspective of you, as reader) i was iffy about a 1st perspective so i edited in both 2nd and 3rd, but 1st person felt right. sorry if u hate, ladies.

masterlist

No one would remember me as YN, no one would remember my husband as Harry.

As the world crumbled into its final moments, you’d think that chaos would envelope everyone whole. That people would be running, screaming, fighting, as if they could somehow wrestle with the jaws of fate. Mothers clutching their children, fathers desperately barking orders to no one, families collapsing under the weight of hopelessness. Dogs howling into the wind after their selfish owners sped off, children sobbing as the air itself seemed to shudder with terror. A cacophony of fear.

You’d imagine fear cause these people knew their life was going to end.

And it was there undeniably, fear. Not the frantic kind, though. A different one—a quiet terror that settled deep in the bones, cold and ancient, like the Earth itself had finally whispered its last breath into our ears. It didn’t matter what was ending us—whether the dead were clawing from their graves, or if the sky had split apart and let loose the fires of heaven, or some disease had snatched us, unseen, from within. It didn’t matter. Not really. Because the truth was simple, inevitable: today, all life on Earth would be snuffed out, and we would become nothing—a floating spec of a forgotten afterthought.

There would be no future, no one left to carry the stories of humankind forward. No history books filled with our triumphs and tragedies. There would be no mourning of our extinction, the things we took for granted. Earth would be a blank—unknown, just one of countless casualties of time. If there was anyone out there in the universe with us, the children of this planet, would be memories swept away like dust, if even that. There would be no tears shed for us. The universe, so vast, would hardly notice our passing.

Some prayed. Desperation forced them down to their knees, begging for salvation, for some kind of afterlife, something more beautiful than their end. The thought of death so terrifying that they’d hope and pray they’ll end up in heaven—hell, even. Anything other than nothing, than eternal darkness. I understood, in a way, because nothing is scary—we’re alive, we’ve never experienced it—it’s impossible to wrap your mind around nothing.

Others drank. I joined them, a bottle of tequila in hand, the burn numbing me just enough to make peace with the fact that I would die today. And my Harry, the man that gave me his last name, would die beside me.

Harry Styles, the man the world adored, the man I called my husband—sat next to me, his head resting softly against my shoulder. We watched as Saturn, impossibly close now, loomed over us, over our home, like an executioner asking for our final words. Its rings shimmered, casting a glow that drowned out the stars. The air was thick with sobs, with whispered prayers. People clung to each other like lifelines, as if the touch of another human might hold them here, in this world that was no longer theirs. Some screamed, but most just stood and stared, watching death arrive with a strange, defeated calm—a cobra swaying in dance before striking its prey.

Harry’s hand found mine, gripping it tightly as if to stay grounded. He tried to pray, the fingers on his left hand trembling with the grasp of his cross pendant, but his voice cracked, breaking on the words. Tears ran down his face, but I couldn’t cry. There was nothing left in me to give to hope or fear. Once, faith could’ve been my anchor, but now it felt like a lie I might tell myself to feel safe. There was no safety here. There was no escaping this.

And so I watched, as those I had once called neighbors, friends, fought against the inevitable. They ran, though there was nowhere to go. They screamed, though no one could hear. They prayed, though no god would answer. It was almost pathetic, the way they clung to the last shreds of life. But maybe it gave them some comfort. Maybe that was all anyone wanted in the end—their last conjured thought to be at least I tried.

"You know-” he trailed off softly, his voice breaking the stillness between us, "I always thought we'd have more time. That mayb-” He sighed. “Maybe we'd get old together."

His words struck me like a blow. "I thought so too." I whispered, feeling the ache in my chest grow heavier. It felt so cruel, to have found this love, this overwhelming, all-consuming love, only to have it ripped away after two years of marriage. "We deserved more, H.”

My husband’s thumbs ran circles upon the back of my hand, his tears glistening in the glow of Saturn. His lip quivered, voice shaky. “We can be old now.” He sent me a sad smile, pressing a kiss into my temple. “Happy fiftieth anniversary.” He murmured, playing with the ring on my finger.

I couldn’t stifle the whimper that fell from my grin, nodding to his words. I stared at his wedding band that shimmered in the light before passing the bottle of tequila between us—a toast. To fifty years of marriage. That would’ve something to drink to.

One swig turned into three, three turned into five. It had helped stopped the tears eventually.

Harry turned to me, his face inches from mine, and I could see the weight of the world in his eyes—a humorous irony, really, now that we really are practically weightless as we pull into Saturn’s gravity. He raised a hand, cupping my face so gently, as though I were something precious that he didn't want to break.

"If I could choose how it all ends," he whispered, his breath warm against my lips, "I'd choose this—here with you. If this is the last thing I feel, the last thing I see, then maybe it's not so bad."

Alcohol couldn't stop the tears then. They spilled over, warm and unrelenting, because what else could I do? I pressed my forehead against his, our breaths mingling as the world began to fall apart around us. The rumble of the Earth cracking, the low roar of Saturn's tug—it all seemed so distant, so unimportant.

"I don't want to lose you." I choked out, my voice barely a whisper.

"You won't, YN." His voice was unwavering, as if he had the book of answers hidden in his pocket. His thumb brushed over my cheek while his lips parted once more. "You'll always have me. Always."

And then he kissed me. It wasn't desperate or rushed. It wasn't the kiss of two people saying goodbye, just an I’ll see you later. It was slow, soft, full of everything we had been to each other. His lips were warm, delicate, and for a moment I could pretend the world wasn't ending. I could pretend that all we had was time.

Saturn’s light bathed the earth in colors that had never seemed so tragically gorgeous—deep purples, blues, and grays, all spinning around the our dying planet. The rings twisted and churned in the sky, pulling our world apart piece by piece, and the wind howled as if it cried for us. The stars dimmed, one by one, turning away from the spectacle of our destruction, unable to bear witness. Maybe they chose to die along side us, not letting Earth go through it alone.—like they were the only ones who’d mourn our death. I silently thanked them, though inanimate, I swear I could feel their empathy.

Harry gripped my hand tighter, his skin warm against the cold air. I brought his hand to my lips and kissed his knuckles. Our foreheads met again, a united front. His green eyes met mine, full of sorrow, of love, of things unsaid. I wanted every one of the five senses to envelope only him. Our last moment to be together, not watching the world collapse, but here, in this space we had carved out between us.

I kissed him. One last time. The taste of salt from his tears mingled with the liquor on my lips. “I love you.” We whispered together, our voices lost in the roar of the sky falling apart.

And then it was gone.

The cold sank into my bones, but it no longer mattered. My heart slowed, and the world around me faded. No more breath in my lungs, no more blood in my veins. Just the void. And as we drifted into that nothingness, I held onto one final hope—that there is some sort of afterlife, so I could find my Harry again.

Yet, the Earth was gone. It dissolved into the void like dust. The stars, too, blinked out one by one, and the universe spun on, indifferent. We were forgotten, nothing left to even decompose in our boundless grave. Perhaps the dead stars that’ll become something more will be our headstones—an indication we were once here.

But for now, it was as if we never existed in the first place.

btw if you feel like you’ve seen this before, i originally wrote this on wattpad in 2017. it was horrible :D but i liked the concept, so this is it readjusted. hope u enjoyed even just a lil <3

[imagine-darksiders]

Transformers Prime: Optimus X Reader. Chapter 2.

The Letdown.

Part 1

Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Family, Optimus is a big, overprotective worry-wort with a soft spot for humans, Reader has more issues than Vogue.

Let me know if you'd be interested in a part 3 :]

------------------

Optimus has always been an honest mech. Even before he was bestowed with the Matrix of Leadership, Orion-wet-behind-the-audials-Pax was about as good at carrying a lie as Miko is at keeping herself out of trouble.

Not much changed after Orion became a Prime.

Deception never came easily to him. Frank and truthful in all he does, there are times when even the principled leader of the Autobots has to concede that sometimes, deceit is a regrettable, but unavoidable necessity.

That doesn’t mean he’s grown better at it though.

Lying, in any capacity, makes the stoic and unflinching mech feel as if his glossa has been dipped in a coat of lead. To his own audial receptors, the insubstantial white-lie he’d coaxed you with sounded clumsy, even stilted – just two more things unbefitting of a Prime.

The Matrix had bucked inside his chassis when he fabricated the story that convinced you to accept his assistance. It had, however, quickly settled down after Optimus reminded himself that this was a lie borne from the best of intentions.

He may be the most fastidious in following his own self-set rule to remain incognito on Earth, but even a stickler like him could hardly ignore a human in need.

And you were in need, he reflects as he tentatively adjusts his rear-view mirror, angling it towards your face as surreptitiously as he can.

The memory of your desolate, beaten expression is bruised right into the forefront of his processor, where it’s sure to remain for some time to come. Bathed in the dim glow of his headlights, you’d stared up at his grill with the same frightened trepidity of a doe peering down the barrel of a hunter’s gun. You’d approached his open door with such caution, your tiny yet vital pulse rabbiting inside the veins and vessels that pump precious blood through your fragile, little body.

You were afraid of him, and it would be remiss of the great Prime to deny that the realisation had plucked at a tender node running through his spark-chamber.

It felt like a rejection.

‘Really, Optimus?’ He can almost hear Arcee’s cool, bemused ribbing now. ‘One human doesn’t like you, and suddenly your self-esteem takes a hit?’

She’d be right to tease him, of course. A Prime ought to be above such concerns.

Yet still…

A human had needed help, and Optimus’s very presence – once described as a comfort by Jack when the boy thought he couldn’t hear – was enough to almost instil a fear in you so profound, you’d have sooner braved the cold emptiness of a desert and your own exhaustion than accept his aid.

Optimus eases his engine to a constant, steady hum as he drives down Highway 49, his weary passenger secured inside his alt mode. Distantly, he notes how some of his custodial protocols have settled back to lay dormant amongst his codes once again, the same protocols that rear their heads like spitting cobras whenever he sees one of the children in danger.

But for now, there is no danger, and so, contented, the Prime allows himself to cruise at a lax pace towards the distant, twinkling lights appearing on the dark horizon.

Jasper.

You mentioned that your journey ends at the dairy pastures out towards the East of town, where well-watered fields of grass are nestled beneath the shadows cast by enormous, twisting rock spires.

But why are you heading there in the first place?

The silence inside his cab starts to grow stifling. And although the quiet doesn’t bother him in the least, Optimus is conscious of your bouncing leg, and the small, quivering fingers kneading anxiously around the straps of the bag you’ve yet to remove.

It doesn’t look heavy… The note you left on the window of your truck claimed that the vehicle is all you have, and he has no doubt that what little else you might call yours is tucked safely within the leather rucksack that’s currently pinned between your spine and Optimus’s seat.

It may not look heavy, but neither does it look particularly comfortable.

Beneath the shell of armour and metal parts concealing his face, Optimus feels his brow plates twitch in their attempt to furrow gently towards one another.

“Perhaps you’d-“ he starts, only to hurriedly cut the feedback to his voice box when you promptly go rigid against his seat, your drooping, crimson-tinted eyes flying open to roll around his cabin like a spooked equine mammal. “My apologies,” he amends contritely, letting his voice drop to such an unobtrusive pitch, it almost mingles with the purr of his engine, “I only meant to tell you, there is ample room in the footwell for your belongings…”

Leaving an indicative silence in his wake, Optimus regards you curiously as you tighten your grip on the tattered, leather straps slung over your shoulders, though your gaze does flick down to survey the space around your shoes.

You may have traded your name for his, but it’s clear you’re still wound up tighter than a coiled spring.

“Oh,” you eventually murmur, and he’s pleased to see your white-knuckle grasp go slack.

As you begin to slowly slide the bag from your shoulders, every movement stiff and uncertain, Optimus nonetheless lets out an approving hum and returns his senses to the road ahead, though his focus remains almost entirely on the soft speck of warmth shifting around in his passenger seat.

Not for the first time, Optimus is struck by how much larger cybertronians are than humans. Even when you lean forwards and lower your rucksack down towards his footwell, his sensors barely register your presence.

At least your weight is more substantial than Rafael’s, he muses.

Once, during a rare but pleasant occurrence in which he was the only bot available to shuttle their tiniest member from school to the Base, Optimus had tried – and failed – to refrain from checking that the boy was still safely strapped in his passenger seat every ten nanoclicks.

Giving his engine a rev to shake himself from the memory, Optimus speaks again, mindful to keep his volume low this time. “May I ask you something, Y/n?”

He watches as you finally relinquish your hold on the bag, letting it drop with the utmost care into the space by your feet. “Of course,” you say genially, turning less and less guarded as the warmth of his cab envelopes you, beckoning you towards a much-needed rest.

“What brings you to Jasper?”

Small talk is hardly Optimus’s forte, but the nature of your unfortunate circumstances had shifted something deep within his spark and left it murmuring unhappily behind his colossal chassis.

Oblivious to the Prime’s concern, you cast another doleful glance towards the driver’s side, leaning back until your shoulders just barely ghost the fabric of your seat. “Only business, I’m afraid,” you offer, vaguely, “Nothing exciting. What about you? Are you based out here?”

“I am,” your mysterious driver responds just as concisely before he swings the topic back around to you, much to your dismay, “But this… Terry-“ He says the name as if it’s entirely foreign to him, like a word in another language that he isn’t sure how to pronounce. “-Is he a friend of yours?”

Puffing out your cheeks, you raise a hand, pivoting it lazily from side to side. “Not exactly…” you eke out. After a moment mulling it over further, you let your hand flop down into your lap again with a sigh. “Actually, no, not at all. He’s barely an acquaintance. I’ve only spoken to him once over the phone when he called to offer me a job.”

Optimus is too slow to mute the heavy hum that rolls through him, reverberating across his cabin and up through your seat.

You must pick up on his apprehension because you quirk one corner of your lips and exhale through a humourless chuckle. “I know… Ironic, isn’t it? I didn’t want to hop in a stranger’s truck, but I’ll travel all the way to Nevada to work for a guy I’ve spoken to once.”

Inwardly, Optimus fights back a frown. Soon enough, his cab is once again filled by his rich, mellow tone, just a few iotas shy of admonishing. “I assume you must have had a good reason for coming here.”

At that, you bark out a slightly louder harrumph. “I have a reason,” you admit before dropping your voice and tugging your brows together until they pucker at the middle of your forehead, gazing solemnly out through the windscreen, “Still haven’t figured out if it’s a good one or not…”

Frowning at the distant lights of Jasper, you miss the way the semi’s rearview mirror twitches microscopically to bring you into centre-frame.

The Prime casts his hidden optics discreetly over your strained expression.

Jaw cinched tight… Hands curled rigidly over your knees. Your whole frame is hunched in on itself, shoulders lifting towards your ears as if you mean to hide between them…

He doesn’t need to scan your vitals to know that your amygdala has just kicked itself up a gear.

You’re scared. And this time, something tells him that he isn’t the cause.

“Perhaps,” he starts slowly, waiting for you to unclench your jaw in response to his voice, “I could offer a third-party perspective.”

Snorting quietly, you reply, “To help me work out if I’m doing the wrong thing?”

“It may ease your troubles to share them,” he offers considerately, having to override the urge to send a soothing stroke through your EM field – or lack thereof.

Sometimes, Optimus finds himself stumped for how to connect with humans on the same level as he can Cybertronians. It’s through no fault of their own, nor his. It simply comes down to a difference in biology.

With the latter, he can so clearly convey a feeling or notion through the electrical impulses cast out by his matrix, and the spark housing it.

Oftentimes, he’ll have to brush his field against Ratchet’s when the agitated medic starts kicking out frustration and, so often, despair. He more frequently does the same to Bumblebee if ever the youngling grows despondent from Rafael’s absence. Arcee’s bouts of fury at the Decpticons, and Bulkhead’s ferocious protectiveness over Miko… Prime has felt it all, brought them into his field, and countered with a presence intended to calm and reassure without having to offer a single word.

But humans… They’re more difficult to soothe.

He has to go by tone and expression alone. The children are easier to read, but adults are a different story; masters at hiding their truest and most vulnerable thoughts behind facades they’ve had years to perfect.

How often has he caught himself trying to wrap Jack, Miko and Raf up inside his solicitous EM field before he remembers they’re human children, not sparklings? They can’t feel his energies like a Cybertronian would.

But regardless, he hopes they know that despite maintaining a poised and collected exterior, Optimus has a spark that’s familiarised itself well with their own, precious heartbeats.

He’s pulled from his musings by your soft, sardonic laugh. “What’re you gonna charge me the going rate of a therapist?” you joke, giving the empty driver’s seat a wry smile.

“I would never dream of charging you for anything,” he insists at once, so sincere that you think he either missed the joke entirely or he’s trying to bulldoze through your defences simply by being nice.

“Good,” you hum, “Because I couldn’t afford a minute of time with a therapist, let alone a whole session. Spent the last of what I had on fuel just to get here.”

“If you require financial aid,” Optimus tells you resolutely, “I would be happy to provide it.”

There are responses you’d expect to hear, and then there are those that make you choke on your own spit.

Lurching upright in your seat, your brows shoot up towards your hairline and you whip your torso around to gawk at the invisible driver. “What!?” you all but blurt, throwing an arm out to steady yourself against the dashboard. “What the- What!?”

The vehicle around you seems to churr apologetically.

“Ah… forgive me,” Optimus hedges, sounding uncharacteristically contrite, “Have I offended you?”

Blinking in rapid succession, you flap your mouth open and closed wordlessly for a few seconds, reeling your heat back up from the bottom of your shoes. “Wh-I… No,” you stammer at last, shaking your head, “No, no. I’m not offended, I’m just..”

Cutting yourself off to huff out an incredulous laugh, you press a few fingers to your temple, rubbing at it tenderly. “Christ, you’re a hoot, Optimus.”

A quick search on the internet only serves to baffle Optimus further. And as he attempts to make the connection between himself and a nocturnal bird of prey, you drag a hand down your face and let out another disbelieving little chuckle.

“Scooping me up in the dead of night, and now you’re offering me money… People will talk.”

Flicking the information on Strigiformes from his HUD, Optimus politely returns his attention to you and asks, “Is it unusual to offer money to those in need?”

“Not if that they’re a charity,” you clarify, the smile on your face turning limp as you shoot his seat a glare that lacks any kind of heat, “I’m not a charity, Optimus. I’m just an idiot who can’t keep a job.”

The truck’s engine suddenly kicks out a guttural growl just as it’s driver firmly states, “You are far from an idiot, Y/n. And… my offer still stands.”

“An offer I’m afraid I’ll have to respectfully decline,” you counter, though the frown on your face is slowly being replaced by a tentative smile, “Look, I appreciate the offer. I do. But you’re already going above and beyond to help someone you don’t know. If you keep being so nice to me, I’ll start thinking you came from the sky!”

All of a sudden, the semi’s brakes dip, only a little, barely enough to jostle you from your seat, but enough that you hastily glance out the windscreen to see if he had to slow for an obstruction in the road.

In the background, Optimus’s speakers give a burst of static before he forces out, “I don’t… The sky?”

“Yeah,” you answer blithely, “You know, like an angel.”

A hush falls over the cab as Optimus processes your words. After a time, the only think of any substance he can come up with is a soft, considering, “Oh…”

The same quiet settles itself over your shoulders, weighing them down, and you start to wonder if you’ve inadvertently insulted your mysterious driver by rejecting his offer too harshly. Before you can open your mouth to try and salvage your standing with him however, he clears his throat and utters, “You flatter me.”

“Do I?” you ask, sinking back into the seat and turning to peer out of the window, glad he doesn’t sound affronted, “Sorry if I seem out of practice, you’re the first person I’ve spoken to in… in a while.”

Optimus goes silent again, leaving you to listen to the rumble of his semi’s tyres travelling over the tarmac for several, lonely moments until he speaks again.

“You’re lonely,” he deduces, so gently and so condolingly that something in your chest gives a squeeze. Then, once again, just as you take a breath to protest his assumption, he asks, “Y/n? Why did you leave your home to come here?”

“… Ah…” Sucking a breath through your teeth, you sit up, lifting your back off the comfortable seat, much to Optimus’s private dismay, “Well, that’s… that’s a long and boring story,” you try to laugh.

As if in response, the truck slows down a few notches until the needle hovers over the forty mark. “I’ll wager it isn’t boring at all,” he prompts, “And I’m not going anywhere.”

The tension in your brows starts to cause an ache, and you stuff your teeth into your bottom lip to distract yourself. “It really is a classic,” you chuckle, wholly intent on brushing his concern aside, “You’ve probably heard it a hundred times before. Straight from the runaway’s handbook.”

Softly, the strange but kind man chides you. “Y/n…”

A lump starts to form in your throat but you force another laugh through it, pulling your chin from your knuckles to aim a look over your shoulder, hoping that his cameras don’t pick up your quivering lip. “Wait… Are you actually a therapist?” you joke, “Is that your day job?”

“Please?”

With a single word, your mouth snaps shut.

Swallowing, you try to bristle defensively, wishing you weren’t so hatefully tired and vulnerable that a simple ‘please’ could knock down a wall of indifference. “Come on, Optimus,” you scoff weakly, “I’m not about to offload my baggage onto a stranger. And we both know you’re not really interested.”

Unheard by you, a strong puff of hot air blasts from the semi’s smokestacks.

“I am loathe to contradict you, youngling,” he retorts, briefly throwing you off with the unusual word, “But I am interested. If you are in some sort of trouble-?“

At once, your spine turns stiff and you cut him off with a scowl, snapping waspishly, “-Who says I’m in trouble?”

Somehow, when he falls silent this time, he manages to exude an air of mild objurgation, and you can’t help but feel like a teenager again, slinking home well after midnight to find your parents still up and waiting for your return.

The comparison humbles you, takes some of the wind out of your ruffled sails.

Optimus’s pointed silence sinks over the cab like a thick, cumbersome blanket, too itchy. You want to throw it off.

Sullen, you swivel yourself back to face the window and lean your forehead against the cool glass, frowning out at the silver-soaked desert drifting by. Your mysterious stranger’s semi drives so smoothly, you can’t even feel the bumps.

But you can feel Optimus’s eyes upon you… somehow, as though he’s just waiting for you to make the next move.

Shifting in your seat, you stubbornly ignore the awkward silence, but it isn’t long before that awkwardness evolves into a kernel of guilt that embeds itself under your ribcage.

Here’s a man who so far, has been nothing but cordial and helpful to you. Hell, even downright generous. All he’s asked of you in return is to hear your reason for being here.

And what did you do?

You threw his – likely genuine – interest back in his proverbial face.

But to tell him…-

‘-Oh, don’t be so melodramatic,’ you scold yourself, ‘You’re not that exciting. You could have been through far worse, after all.’

Resisting the impulse to groan aloud, you knock your forehead gently against the window, considering.

For his part, Optimus doesn’t press you, he doesn’t clear his throat or try to change the subject, he just… waits.

And finally, alongside a great heave of your chest and a woebegone sigh, his patience is rewarded.

“You ever feel… like…” Squinting, you work the sentence over in your mouth before pushing it past reluctant teeth, “Like you’re not living up to everyone’s expectations?”

If you had any idea who you’d just asked that question of, you might have realised what the sudden lurch of his engine means.

Chalking it up to the truck changing gears, you peel yourself away from the window and stare down at your lap, fingers absently fiddling with one another. “It’s like… Okay, so, you know how people around you always say, ‘just try your best, that’s all you can do?”

When it becomes clear that you’re actually poised, expecting an answer, Optimus ventures a careful, “I have heard that many a time, yes.”

“And you want to try your best for them, right? You want to be a better person?”

“Of course,” he says far more easily, only to hesitate when you go still and your face crumples.

“But… you don’t want it badly enough...” you eke out slowly.

“…I’m sorry?”

“You don’t want it badly enough to actually put any effort into being that person, you know?”

This time, Optimus doesn’t offer a response.

You almost want to smile. Of course he doesn’t know. Look at him. Picking up a random stranger in the night to drive you where you need to go, offering a sympathetic ear to listen to your troubles, offering money when you tell him you lost your job… If he put effort into being better, they’d have to make him a Saint.

“I wasn’t… giving my best,” you finally sigh at the centre console, “At my job, at home… I knew I wasn’t giving my best, and I didn’t try to. I had everyone fooled into thinking that what I was giving them was all I had…. But it wasn’t…”

Suddenly, your eyes blur over with stinging, salty tears, and you duck your head at once, frowning angrily at yourself, “Not even close.”

Optimus murmurs your name, but you can’t bear to let him try and say anything kind to you now, not when you’ve just plucked at such a tender wound, and kindness would only rip the scab off sooner than you’re ready to let it bleed.

“I was, um… I was late to work one morning at my old job,” you clear your throat, sweeping a finger roughly under your eyelid, “Overslept. That was grounds for firing me. Lost my apartment because I couldn’t make the rent anymore… When I eventually bit the bullet and went home to tell dad, he…”

Your voice fades out, clogged by the memory of that day so many weeks ago, another in a long line of disappointments you’d walked over your parents’ welcome mat.

But Optimus is still waiting, still reserving his judgement until you finish, so you take a breath, remind yourself that all of this is nobody’s fault but your own, and continue. “I think… it was slowly killing my father to see his kid wasting a perfectly good life instead of being the person he thought I’d become.”

You try so hard to remain aloof, but the late hour, the solitary journey, this stranger’s amicable nature… Something akin to a shard of glass wedges its point under the soft tissue of your heart.

And jabs.

Suppressing a wince, you plaster nonchalance into a shrug and sniff, “So, I figured if he couldn’t see me, like at all, he might… be happier.” It’s hard to admit, just as it was when you made the decision to leave your house that night and set out to find your own way in the great, wide world.

Finally, just as the semi drives past a large, green sign that reads ‘Jasper city limits,’ Optimus’s voice rumbles through the speakers.

“You left your home,” he begins slowly, “Because you thought you might disappoint your father?”

Close.

You left because you knew you already had.

Not just him either.

Partnerless, childless, you’ve been drifting through life by yourself on the path of least resistance, and every year, you grow older, and you watched your mother and father grow older too.

Leaning your head back against the seat, you nearly let your eyes slip shut before remembering you’re supposed to be staying awake, pinning them open to peer up at the blue light reflected off a dark ceiling.

“… Does he at least know where you are?”

You smile sadly, rolling your neck around to your other shoulder and giving the empty driver’s seat a heavy-lidded blink. “He knows I’ll be okay.”

Just then, the seatbelt seems to grow ever so slightly tauter around you, just enough that you can feel it press against your abdomen, but so briefly that you can’t be sure it isn’t your chest hitching.

“He must be worried about you,” Optimus prompts.

Shrugging, you turn back to face the window. “Like I said, he knows I’ll bounce back. I… usually do. I mean I have done so far.”

Another disquieted hum trickles out of the speakers.

“That’s why I had to get to the dairy tonight,” you sniffle, blinking hard as the truck passes beneath the first street-light, bringing you safely within the city outskirts, “I have to make sure Terry thinks I’m worth keeping on as a farm-hand. If I’m late on my first day and he decides I’m not worth it…”  Your hands ball into clenched fists in your lap and you grit your teeth, determined not to let your misty eyes spill all over Optimus’s seats.

“I need this job,” you croak, more to yourself now than your invisible listener, “Not sure how many bounces I’ve got left in me.”

This time, you’re certain the seatbelt tightens. You even spare it a glance when it doesn’t slacken again, and you force your fists apart to slide your fingers beneath the fabric, gently working it loose.

Optimus is barely aware of your touch. “You should try to contact your father,” he says at last, “I’m certain that if he hears of your circumstances, and learns why you left and where you are, he’ll be able to help you.”

He watches you blink, frowning suddenly and sitting up to give his side of the cab a baffled look. Slowly, your expression opens up as a realisation dawns on you, one not yet privy to the mech.

“Oh,” you say, mildly surprised, “You think it was only my decision to leave.”

-----------------------------------------

Optimus doesn’t know which is worse.

That you could feel like such a burden to your family, you thought leaving would make them happy.

Or the fact that your family had done nothing to stop you from walking out the door.

--------------------------------------

There aren’t a great many things that a Prime is permitted to regret.

That does not, however, make them incapable of regret. Only the admission of it.

By the time Optimus’s gargantuan tyres turn onto the long, sandy driveway of Terry’s Dairy, he realises he’s added one more contrition to his ever-growing list. He’s gone behind your back, turned a blind optic to your wishes and invaded your privacy in a way that made the matrix in his chassis squirm and howl.

But it’s all he could think to do for you at short notice, he laments, short of carting you back to the silo and ensuring you get some proper rest. Ratchet would probably take one look at your vitals and order a week of inactivity. Then he’d likely tear Optimus a new finial for bringing yet another human into their fold.

It would be counterproductive, he supposes. After all, the Decepticons aren’t aware of your existence, and affiliating yourself with the Autobots will only paint a target on your back.

No, leaving you here is for the best, he reasons, though he resolves to avoid going behind your back again in the future.

He also resolves to make the drive up to the pastures part of his weekly patrol… Not for any particular reason – it’s possible the Decepticons also prowl along these old roads… And if, on his way by, he happens to cast a glance over and see you, well… All the better.

“Are you certain you’ll be alright?” he asks for the umpteenth time as he trundles to a stop in front of a modest, wooden farmhouse, his headlights bathing the little white porch in their dazzling glow.

Giving a jovial roll of your eyes, you haul your rucksack out of the footwell and reach down to press the seatbelt release, having to jab at it with your thumb a few times before it eventually relents and lets go of the metal buckle.

“Don’t you worry about me,” you tell him stoutly as you reach for the door handle. That too, you struggle to open, tugging at it with no success until the lock promptly goes ‘click’ and the door swings open of its own accord.

Clicking your tongue at the temperamental tech, you arduously slide yourself from the seat and swing the rucksack over a shoulder, climbing backwards down the steps. “You just worry about getting this truck in tip-top shape. Sounded like the engine had a mind of its own.”

Dropping the last foot to the ground, your knees threaten to buckle, but you manage to remain upright, stepping back to smile up into the cab before the door tugs itself shut.

Right on cue, the semi’s idling engine lets out a noisy rev, instantly drawing a laugh out of you.

“Ha!” you grin, “Yeah, just like-”

You’re promptly interrupted by an unexpected commotion from the house.

Whipping your head towards the porch, you let out a yelp as the screen door suddenly bursts open, and from the darkness comes barrelling a short, stocky man wearing nothing but a pair of pyjama shorts, a single shoe, and a ferocious snarl.

But most alarmingly of all, is the shiny, side-by-side shotgun held aloft in his arms, the stock braced against his shoulder and one, keen eye staring straight down the sights.

All the moisture in your mouth dries up when you realise those long, glinting barrels are aimed directly at you.

“What the-!?” is all you can bleat out.

Without a moment’s warning, the truck beside you roars to life and suddenly lurches forwards on its wheels, thrusting itself like a wall of metal into the space between you and the gun-toting farmer.

“Wh- Optimus!” you exclaim, trying to stand on your toes to fruitlessly see over the semi’s grill. “Terry!? Is that you!?”

“I told you sons of bitches,” the incensed man hollers, “F’I ever caught you tryn’a mess with my cows again, I’d-!”

“Terry!” Stepping sideways, you attempt to move around Optimus’s semi, only for the truck to roll forwards, keeping you hidden safely behind its bumper.

“Optimus, stop it,” you hiss, planting a palm on the warm, thundering hood and darting around the front of his truck, too quickly for him to move forwards again lest he squash you beneath his radiator.

Lifting your voice, you hurriedly call out, “Terry, i-it’s me! Y/n? We spoke on the phone! About the job!”

You’re met with a stunned silence as you manage to skirt around to the other side of the semi’s bumper, keeping your hand on the metal as if that alone could keep the ten-tonne machine at bay.

Finally, ‘Terry’ comes into view, and for a brief, terrifying moment, you meet his steely glare through the sights.

Then, just as swiftly, he blinks, and the gun drops almost at once, his face bursting open in surprise. “Y/n? That you, kid?” he calls.

The palpable relief almost brings you to your knees. Taking your hand off the truck’s grill, you step forwards, eyeing the gun warily as it dangles at the farmer’s side. “Yeah, it’s me… Sorry.”

“Goddammit, Kid! You about gave me a damn heart attack!”

“I gave you a heart attack!?” Expelling a shaky breath, you card your fingers through your messy hair and add, “Jesus, Terry. Was the gun really necessary?”  

There’s a line of sweat beading on the farmer’s wispy brow as he flicks his gaze between you and the revved-up truck lurking behind you. After a moment of squinting, he returns his eyes to you. “Can’t be too careful,” he grunts, “This old thing ain’t even loaded. Just use it to scare away some damn kids who’ve been comin’ round here and spookin’ up my herds.”

True to his word, Terry breaks the shotgun’s barrels, flipping the gun around in his hands to show you the empty chambers.

At that moment, as if he’d been waiting to determine that the danger had passed, Optimus puts his semi in reverse, rolling it backwards over the sand as you turn to watch him leave, absently raising a hand to wave farewell as he turns the truck around.

Just before he does, the semi’s headlights blink once, then twice, on and off, a farewell in his own right, before its wheels carry it around in the spacious yard and it begins to drive, leaving the way it had come, back up the lonely, sand-choked track.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Terry breathes, draping a wrist over his forehead and letting out an incredulous chuckle, “The Angel…” Tearing his eyes off the truck’s retreating taillights, he stares over at you, mouth crooked into a lopsided grin. “How the Hell’d you get a ride with the goddamn Angel?”

“I’m sorry,” you sputter, eyelashes flickering in disbelief, “Angel?”  

Terry’s expression morphs from giddy excitement to a wistful, faraway gaze. “The Angel of Highway Forty-Nine,” he says breathlessly, his eyes sharpening once again as he turns them back onto you, “He’s a legend. Just showed up one day in that big ol’ truck of his. Noone knows who he is or where he came from! A ghost, that’s what folks say, who drives his rig up and down the roads around Jasper. Never stoppin’ for gas. Never gettin’ to where he’s goin.”

Suddenly, his demeanour shifts again, and he closes the distance between you, lowering his voice conspiratorially and lifting his hand up to his mouth as if to shield the words from prying ears. Though the only ears you can see are those of the cows watching sleepily from their barn, no doubt awoken by the ruckus. “I know folks who swear, when they drive past him on the road, they look, but not one of ‘em has ever seen a person behind that windscreen!”

“Oh my,” you return, feigning intrigue with a tired expertise, “That’s spooky. But… maybe the glass is just tinted?”

Terry leans backwards out of your bubble, spreading his arms wide and pursing his lips. “Maybe,” he concedes, only to immediately drop his arms again, and you watch in mild concern as his face splits into a wide, borderline-manic grin, “Or maybe… He’s an alien, and that big rig there?” He points the barrel of his shotgun down the farm track at the spot where Optimus had disappeared. “That’s his craft.”

…. Ah.

Paying dutiful attention, you follow his line of sight, eyebrows high on your head and a carefully pensive gaze laid bare for Terry to see.

“His craft?” you echo, “You mean like a spaceship?”

The old farmer’s face lights up and his eyes zero in on you like a car salesman who’s just spotted a clueless customer stumbling into his showroom.

It took twenty minutes for Terry to show you to the little annex you’d be living in from now on. And only another five for you to thank him profusely for giving you this chance, bid him goodnight, shuck off your shoes and rucksack and finally, finally flop face-first onto the bed. A real bed. With pillows and sheets and a blanket. Not the bed of an old pickup truck and a coat tossed over your legs for warmth.

Rolling onto your back, you splay your arms out on either side of you, sending a tiny smile up at the ceiling.

“Alien… Ha,” you laugh softly. Terry’s a character. Decent enough, but the scent of stale beer and hops lingering on his breath when he leaned in close stole some of the credence from his theory.

Now, Angel… you can get behind. Optimus had shown up right when you needed him, after all, even if you couldn’t see it for yourself at the time.

Ah, but Optimus is the good sort. And good sorts tend to drift to where they’re needed, helping out wherever they can. You’re not the good sort. You just muddle on through and go wherever you can, helping out where your help is invited.

You resolve to bite the bullet and just check how much is in your current account. See if you’ve got enough in there to hire a tow, or a friendly farmer with a tractor and a rope…

The passcode screen flicks away, and you’re left blinking tiredly at the figure on top of the page.

You blink once.

Then again, harder.

Then you promptly drop the phone onto the bed with a soft ‘whump.’

Snatching it back up, you gape at the screen, drop it again, then throw your hands over your mouth in abject horror.

There must be some mistake. You’re dreaming, you fell asleep, and this is a dream, surely to god!?

A third check yields the same results, and once again, you toss the phone away from you to the foot of the bed, staring after it as if it might come alive at any moment.

No matter how hard you squeeze your fingernails into your scalp, you can’t wake up from whatever twisted fantasy you’ve stumbled into.

The numbers and words are burned into your retinas, flashing dimly every time you blink.

‘$10,000 has been added to your account.’

[skeletonapricationday]

Collaboration

Dead dove do not eat

I do not condone any of these actions and neither should you. This is purely fantasy. Do not forget that.

Warnings: blood kink, choking (gone a little far), bondage bench, face fucking, knotted genitals (fox pp), dark web streaming, recorded sex, and too many more to count.

Minors dni

You move around your messy warehouse excitedly and nervously. All the cameras placed perfectly, even a few mics placed caustiously as to not be in view. You walk over to your computer screens, their bright lights the only lights in the room. They shine on your face as you slip the mask on. Securing it tight. The familiar feeling of power surging through you.

1...2...3...Action!

"Hey my little degenerates! Cobra here today with a very exciting stream." You see the chats and views roll in quickly. The followers you've gained over the years quick to join.

'A new exciting stream! We've missed you Cobra' one writes. 'I've been so lonely without my favorite whore.' Another chimes in. All types of messages on your screens.

"Awee you've missed me. That's so cute." You say, your lips curling into a foul smile. The mask covered the top half of your face, leaving your plump round mouth as the only thing in view. "I missed yall too, but you won't regret why I've been gone for so long...today we have a very exciting guest. Can yall guess who it is?" You ask sickly sweet.

'A guest? Is it a new toy?' A chatter asks. 'No, she never introduces her toys this way.' Another correctly assumes. 'Could it be another streamer?'

"Oh my. You've gone from cold to burning hot chat. You're close~" You purr. Waiting for them to catch on. "C'mon yall begged for this. You should know!" You say fake pouting. Setting up a silent hype for your viewers.

Suddenly the door opens behind you, setting your nerves ablaze. You've never met him before, but you've seen his streams. Always quick to jump in and even tip him. You look over as he stands out of the cameras view, slowly putting on his mask. He's so quick you didn't get to see his face. "Guys! Your surprise is here." You giggle standing. Walking over to him, flaunting your hips as you walk for the camera.

The man barks out a laugh. "My, you seem more excited than your chat." He says in that usual mechanical tone you've come to love.

"Can't help it, I'm also a fan yknow." You giggle nervously.

You can hear the chat going wild. Some already catching on from his voice alone, and others left in utter confusion. You toy with the stockings on your lingire nervously. Wondering what to say or do, but you quickly go back to being professional.

He walks slowly into the frame, walking straight up to a camera. "Hey chat- did you miss me too?" He asks expertly, his reveal making the fans go nuts.

'No way! Cobra did it!' 'I wanna be her, I've always wanted to meet Fox.' 'Shut up and just enjoy this!' The chat goes wild, sending in tips before the show even starts.

You walk over and playfully grab Fox's arm, pulling it close to your barely clothed chest. "Isn't this just exciting! Who knew you'd ever respond to little ol' me." You tease, looking into his cold eyes.

"I'm not dumb enough to reject such an offer! I'm sure plenty would kill to be in my place." He teases back, quick on his feet. "Though I'm sorry for the time crunch, I wish we could've met behind the scenes first." He says earnestly, like he's also excited for this show.

"It's no problem. We're both busy people." You purr out like honey. Voice more animalistic than the fox being in front of you. Excited merely at the thought of this shoot.

He wrenches his arm out of your grasp, grabbing your waist with it. His sharp nails caressing your bare side. "I hate making pretty woman wait, especially when they're famous. Should we get to it?" He asks, then looks back the screen. Fans biting their nails eagerly for this.

This was it. You're a famous gore streamer yourself, frequently buying from Fox's underground trade. Breaking toy after toy. You even did a few streams of just yourself, a nice toy, and a knife, those seem to be the fans favorites. They want to see you in a reversed position. Used the same way you use others. You're pulled out of your thoughts by a harsh grip.

His nails now digging into your side, small spots of blood pouring down from the small puncture wounds. You hiss and groan, receiving a small chuckle in return. "Now now- we haven't even started. Can't have you zoning out...yet." He says, a dark looming foreshadow. You blush under your mask and look at him.

"Sorry I'm a tad nervous. I'm not exactly used to handing over my reigns." You say like an announcer, trying to keep the act up for the fans. He simply looks humored as he pulls his hand away. When he does you quickly show off to the camera the small cresant shaped injuries. Nothing major, not even worse than what you've done to yourself. Simply telling of what's to come.

"So I've brought something special, since I'm being gifted such a special toy." He purrs, walking over and opening a suitcase. Inside is a choke chain you've seen on stream before. "Don't worry doll, that's just the beginning." He hums out. Pulling out the chain and placing it aside. Underneath is a peculiar looking stick. You don't know what it is until he pulls it out, it's a cane. Long, hard, and sturdy. The perfect tool to get yelps out of someone. You gulp nervously, unsure of this, but also entirely sure.

He walks over and grabs your bandage bench, setting it up to fit you. Hooking the choke chain into the ceiling above it. If he wasn't wearing a mask you could swear he was smirking. "Do you understand the plan now doll?" He asks darkly with a honeyed undertone. You nod slowly and understanding. Seeing that the play has already begun.

You look at the camera and pretend to fan your face. "Geez chat it feels like it's already gotten hot in here!" You beam. Feeling Fox come behind you, running his hands up and down your sides.

"I think it's just you." He says into your ear, gripping onto your breast in front of the camera. Pushing them together for the viewers pleasure before teasing your nipples through the lace. Getting a small moan from you. "Afterall, what a cute little outfit. Is this all for me?" He barks out curiously, running his hands down to your thighs. Wiggling and playing with them like a cat.

"Of course it's for you silly. Gotta put on my best wear right?" You respond right back, trying to keep your confidence.

He whispers low into your ear, so quiet the microphones can't pick it up. He's speaking just for you. "Perfect darling. Perfect. Because I'm going to destroy you." He then looks at the camera and crinkles his eyes innocently. He grabs your throat, squeezing lightly.

You gasp as your airflow is weakened, not completely restricted. "Now where do we start with a little inexperienced thing like you?" He quips to the camera. Reading off chat requests till one catches his eye.

'Just strip her already and put her in that chair. I wanna see a Dom squeal.' He laughs at the chatter. Turning your head so you can see the message too. "You hear that doll? Your cute little fans wanna see you turned into a mess. Normally we'd do some kind of light play before getting into the meat of the show but...I can see you're too tantalizing for that." His grip on your throat tightens. Completely cutting off your ability to breathe.

You struggle a bit, surprised by his harsh grip. He only lets out a huff through his nose and squeezes tighter. Causing you to feel a small ring like bruise form on your precious skin. He lets go.

You fall to the floors coughing, holding the concrete floor as a life line. He picks up a camera and zooms it in on your face. "We've only just started and she's already sputtering. Are you sure you aren't just a bottom in disguise?' He asks curiously, running his boot up your thigh, pressing painfully into it.

"Nope, I'm a switch, Fox. Never claimed to be a dom." You giggle out cockily. Looking through the holes of your mask defiantly. Rubbing your throat to ease the pain of the mark, feeling wetness pool at your thighs. His harsh and unloving gaze already turning you on.

"Doesn't mean anything if you're still pathetic." He says, barking out another laugh. Taking his boot off your thigh he notions towards the bdsm bench. Telling you to get ready to be strapped in.

You slowly stand and walk to it. The bandage bench forcing you into a downward dog position. He straps you in carefully, till you can only move your head back and forth, and mildly rock your hips. "You look better positioned like the bitch you are." He says looking down at you. Putting the choke chain around your neck, forcing you to keep your head up. One wrong move and the nails would pierce through your throat, rendering you dead.

"I'm not a dog." You say in a bratty tone. Smirking at him like 'what are you gonna do about it.'

"Sure you are." He smiles, running a cold gloved hand down your back all the way to your ass. Goosebumps forming whereever he touches. He quickly brings a hand down to your ass causing you to yelp. "See? You just barked." He giggles out. Entertained by your shattering ego.

"I don't bark, I moan get it right." You huff in response, rolling your eyes. He can't see it since he's behind you, but you're sure he catches it in one of the several viewfinders. Your kinky play broadcasted to thousands. It makes you grow wetter at the thought, and distracts you enough for Fox to surprise you

A sudden blinding pain vibrates through your body. Starting at your ass and zapping all the way up your spine. You whimper when it subsides. "What is-?" You shout confused.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten? I even showed you." He purrs behind you. Rubbing over the mark on your ass, soothing it with his cold palm. "That's one."

"On-one?" You stutter. Keeping your head painfully up despite the urge to hang your head in pain. "How many are you gonna do Fox." Suddently you scream in pain again.

"Wrong." He states coldly. "Whats my name?" He asks.

You bite your bottom lip in thought but come up blank."Fox-its Fox- AAA." Another slap of the cane.

"Fox is only when you're human." He coos. "And right now you're a toy. What do toys say?" He hums, tapping his nails on your back expectantly.

"Daddy..." You hush out quietly.

"Say it proudly or you've earned another." He grabs the back of your hair, forcing your head even further upward. "Say it, slut."

"Daddy!" You shout, tears pricking your eyes under your mask. You hear a laugh behind you and he lets your head go. Leaving you to hold yourself up.

"Good girl!" He says proudly, a lustful tone underneath. "See it wasn't that hard...but I am." He jokes to the camera. Looking right into the lens like a famous actor.

"You're hard?" You ask excitedly. Your ego lighting aflame in your chest. You made Fox hard. You've won. You did it.

"You don't believe me?" He says with a fake pout. Rubbing his cock against your ass. "Do you believe me now?" He says, rutting his hips a tad, groaning at the clothed contact.

"Yes daddy." You purr. Feeling it twitch in his pants, his tip probably already soaking wet just like you. "I'm wet~" You respond.

You yelp when the cane comes back down on you, this time hitting your thigh. It's difficult to keep your head up on your own through the fire but you manage. "I don't need a naughty girl stating the obvious. Do I?" He ask retortically, not looking for a real answer. He's looking for submission.

"No daddy. You don't." You whine, biting your bottom lip.

"Behave and you'll get rewarded, so will your fans." He hums, a smile in his voice. He walks in front of you and removes the choke chain. Letting you finally hang your head limply, giving your neck a rest. He tsks his tongue "No, no baby. That isn't why I freed you. You got a show to put on!" He says micheviously, like he's reprimanding a toddler.

"What do I do daddy?" You say trying to convince yourself to look up, no matter how limp you felt.

You hear the pop of buttons and that gets your attention. Looking up at him through blurry eyes, blinking rapidly. "So that catches your attention huh?" He teases. He rubs his claw against your bottom lip, smearing your blood from earlier on it. "Open. Do a good job and you won't get the cane for the rest of the night."

'That's right, treat her like the whore she is!' 'This is the best show yet!' 'I'm so glad I paid for this.' Echos of chats and tips come in, but they simply bounce off your blurry mind.

You open your lips slowly, feeling his knotted tip entering your mouth. Jaw being stretched impossibly wide. You hiss at the angle but open your mouth further, allowing him to push in the rest. "Remember, no teeth doll. I feel a single tooth and I'll pull them out of your skull." He beams cheerily. Throwing his head back with a groan as he slides in and out of your wet tight mouth. "It's like you were made for this." He says with a smirk in his wavering tone. His voice gravely, but his groans higher pitched.

You can't properly respond so you hum around him. Sending pleasurable vibrations through his dick. "Oh yea that's it doll. Fuck." He curses and looks back down at you. Making direct eye contact through your mask.

You whine around him, feeling your throat painfully restrict on every thrust. His tail swishing from side to side behind him, betraying his cold gaze and revealing his excitement. You move your tongue around rapidly, hoping it'll make him cum. Wanting nothing more than to feel his salty seed pour down your throat. He starts to thrust faster. Holding you by your hair to angle himself better. "That's it. Take it. Fucking take it." He repeats his words as you feel his cock twitch in your mouth. The veins pulsing more and more, tipping you off that he'll cum soon. You suck harder, desperate. "I'm going cum- that's it. Imma' pour my cum right down your throat. You want that baby?" He urges. Almost like you could say yes. You can't speak so you hum again and that sends him over the edge. Cum painting the inside of your neck. The thick liquid clinging to the walls, almost gagging you. He pulls out slowly with a relieved sigh. You cough and sputter, drool and a little bit of cum leaking down your chin.

"My, my don't you just look pretty. Let's see how wet you've become huh?" You look at him blushed, not wanting him to see the mess you've made. He walks behind you and laughs, gently slapping the side of your ass. "Wow, you really enjoyed that didn't you. Do you often dream of being a cocksleeve?"

You think of lying, but his cold sharp gaze can be felt behind you. You decide against it, clearing your throat. "Yes daddy. I do." He barks out another laugh.

"I made her suck me so hard I made her an honest woman." He teases cockily. Proud of everything. He rubs a hand against your still clothed folds. Collecting slick even through the fabric. You hear lick and slurping behind you, he was cleaning it off his hand. He was tasting you, and he moaned while doing it. "Geez, wish we could bottle this taste."

"That wouldn't sell well daddy." You joke back, he chuckles.

"On the contrary, I think it would be top teir on the sales chart." He giggle and rips your panties in half. Leaving your aching hole in the open, the cold air making you clench around nothing. "I don't even wanna bother preparing you, I mean you're already so wet. What's the point."

"You can just enter daddy...please." You whine, rocking your hips purposefully. Begging to finally get your rocks off after all this pain.

"Whatever you say, don't complain if it's a tight fit." He says proudly, stroking his own ego.

You feel the tip of his cock slip through your folds, teasing and collecting wetness. He even slaps the tip against your clit a few times, earning hefty short moans from your lips. "Daddy please!" You shout and as soon as you do he enters. Painfully stretching you open, filling up your aching cunt all too quickly. You cry and sob out a moan. A mixture of pain and pleasure as his hips meet your abused ass. His balls slapping against your clit.

"This is one tight cunt." He growls approvingly, like he was rating it. Slowly slipping in and out again. Actually giving you a few thrusts to adjust. You moan out babbles of thank you and daddy. "Oh baby I'm not gonna be nice, it just feels like I'm going to break in half. You got one beast of a pussy baby." He chuckles out.

He starts slamming back into you at an impossible speed, each thrust earning a yelp and moan. You whine as his tip kisses your cervix with each aching movement. Your thighs already shaking like you're going to cum. "Not so soon~" He purrs between his own moan. "Daddy has gotta get close first." He says cockily. Leaning down and sniffing your neck. "God you smell so fucking arousing!"

You moan and press your hips back against him, begging nonverbally for more. "Daddy please m' needa cum. Gotta cum daddy please-" You pant out. Bucking and trashing in the bondage bench desperately. More drool dripping down your already coated jaw. Each inahle you can taste his cum again, it only heightens your senses. "Daddy-daddy!" You shout.

"Just a little longer baby mm." He responses softly despite his animalistic pace. "You're gonna take it, and take it, and take it till I tell you otherwise." He punctuates every word with a sharp thrust. Fucking you deep and fast, not even pulling out completely. Every slap of his balls on your clit causing you to scream, tears falling down your face.

" 'mma cum 'mma cum I can't I can't-" You sob out, your cunt clenching impossibly tight around him. You hear a deep gravely sound pull out of him. He leans down into your shoulder and you hear his mask unclip. He bites harshly into your shoulder, blood dripping down onto the floor in front of you. You scream loudly, clenching again. He licks and laps at the wound, hiding his face from the public in your skin.

"Look into the fucking camera when you cum." You hear him put his mask back on. A strong hand gripping the base of your jaw, forcing you to look up. "Cum slut, now." He hisses between clenched teeth.

You do, the whole world turning white. Your walls spasming like crazy on his dick. Squirting onto the floor, his pants, and cock. Clear liquid streaming out of you. The world feels blurry and unreal as all the pleasure hits you. You don't even know if you're moaning, maybe you're talking but you don't know. It all feels too good, it's feels too too good.

"That's it. That's fucking it doll. Cum on daddy." He growls. Shooting hot ropes of seed inside you, burying himself in your cunt. Each pulse is another round of cum slipping out of him and into you. If you weren't on the pill you'd be pregnant for sure. "God I could fucking breed you. Whore." He hisses as he pulls out. Cum dripping down your abused folds.

You chuckle cockdrunk, drool leaking out of your mouth uncontrollably. "Hehe daddy~" You purr.

The lights of all the cameras shut off as you see the room grow darker. He had ended the stream. You're unhooked from the bench and fall right into his arms. He pulls your mask off and his too, bringing you in and kissing you deep. Your blood on his tongue and the taste of his cum of yours. It was like lightning.

"Let's see how good you preform off stream." You hear the dark voice as you fade out of consciousness. Passing out.

[jyoongim]

Price to pay pt. 2

Anon request:

Alastor X human!reader where she is desperate to make a deal for fame and glory.

She tries to summon a demon, accidentally conjuring Alastor. Beside her feisty facade she’s quite innocent and naive. He’s intrigued by her and toys with her, like a prey,tricking her into him, she signs the deal. He’ll  come back after 1yr to collect his pretty little prize…her body and soul.

Part one

part 3

————————————————————————

Songs: primadonna (marina), Judas(lady Gaga ), i have nothing (Whitney !!!), cobra (Megan thee stallion), dark horse (Katy Perry ), sex therapy, material girl (madonna)

You sighed as you walked off stage. Your managers and assistants quickly surrounded you as you walked into the dressing room.

”You were amazing!”

”You’re trending already!”

”what an amazing performance!”

”What a great tour!”

You sipped on some water as you were undressed and sat on the couch as everyone buzzed around.

So much had happened in the span of a year. It honestly felt like a dream.

But it wasn’t a dream.

The necklace around your neck was your reminder of that.

You were the hottest sensation. You have signed multiple record deals and within weeks you were in a recording studio giving a demo.

It was all a blur after that.

You quickly gained popularity and before you knew what was happening, you were on tours. You had been to so many places and performed in front of thousands of people. 

It was a dream come true.

Your latest album was your last gift you would leave behind.

It told of all of your love for the spotlight, the burdens you held, and your dark secret.

But of course no one knew that.

No one knew that the famous singer had sold her soul to have a taste of her dream.

No one knew that as quick as she lit up the stage, that she would never grace it again.

It was the last night of your tour; the last night of freedom.

You wanted to scream and cry, beg that you never gave up this feeling.

But a deal’s a deal, and you always kept your word.

You had smiled at all the wonderful people you had grown to appreciate and thanked them.

You sat on the floor of an empty hotel room, two bottles of alcohol empty,  a third in your hand as you stared at yourself in the floor-length mirror.

You closed your eyes, the last thing you wanted to remember was how happy you’ve been for the past year.

—————————————————————————

It was too quiet. 

You had waited for the moment when the floor split open and swallowed you up.

For the red demon to pop up out of nowhere and kill you, take your soul and can it in a jar.

Your body buzzed at the thought.

Alastor.

The demon wasn’t as scary as you had thought bitch you fucking lie .

He wasn’t what you had expected of a demon…yes he was scary as shit and probably would kill you.

But he didn’t.

He wouldn’t.

Your panties grew damp at the thought of those red glowing eyes, cunt clenching around nothing at the memory of his fingers working your smoldering heat.

Your eyes drunkenly casted onto the necklace that Alastor had given you.

Ill always keep close watch Alastor’s voice rung in your head.

In your drunken state, you must have thought of it as some sort of rebellion. You parted your thighs, hand slipping between your thighs and rubbing at the heated mound.

Eyes watching yourself in the mirror, a soft moan passed your lips as your fingers flicked and pressed down on your aching clit. 

“Haaaa fuuuccck” you hissed, bringing your other hand to palm at your heavy tit, pinching at your perky nipple.

Your administrations had you panting as you rapidly thrusted your fingers inside you, hips wiggling as your approaching orgasm warmed your body. Your toes curled and you threw your head back “A-Alastor” you whispered, teeth clenching as you clenched around your fingers.

so close. You were so close.

But something was missing.

Your orgasm was trying to wane,  no matter how much you rubbed at your clit.

Nononononononononono!

A large warm body manifested behind you, long arms wrapping around you, hands replacing yours, as sharp teeth nipped at your shoulder.

”Hello my dear” 

——————————————————————————-

Hahahaha i know you guys hate me lol! Stay tune for the last part, it will be posted soon!!!!!

@thewinchestah @catherine1206 @stygianoir @jellibean2018 @markster666 @strawberrypimp666 @3verlark @alastor-simp @alastorsaries @alastwhore666 @gojosaturos-wife @tojirights @polytheatrix @dennsfz @horrorartsworld @prosciuttosblog @yourdoorisunlocked @dievia3 @alastorsdarling @t0byisher3 @mneferta @purplecatsandhearts @alishii @okay-babe @danveration @absurd-ash @peachedtv @simphornies @fatnug @alastorsdear @alastwhore666 @stawberrypimpsimp @altruisticalastor @queenariesofnarnia @scaramoochiie @rradio-static @someonethatsnotimportantplshelp @squeekycheesecurd @squixythebee @catmunist @lbcreations-blog @coleisyn @bratty2bunny @v0xsw1fe @alstorloml @fizzled-phoenix @siiv3r @k1y0yo @yunimimii @wisteria-seal @kassa-stardust

[glitterfairy-21225]

Honestly, I like that we’re only now seeing Demetri feed into anger and make decisions he’ll probably regret later. Now, after Hawk has already had his redemption arc and rejected Cobra Kai’s ideology. I don’t think any sane viewer would have blamed him for going a little dark after Hawk broke his arm, but he didn’t. In fact, Demetri forgave Hawk extremely easily. He’s better than me, I don’t think most people would be willing to look past that so quickly.

So why now? Why does MIT hurt more than all the far worse stuff Eli did when he was in Cobra Kai?

Demetri has been learning Miyagi Do since s2. Before that, he disliked Cobra Kai’s way of doing things and only really clicked with karate when he was taught balance and self defense. Demetri is probably behind Sam and Anthony as the teen character with the least amount of experience in Cobra Kai.

But there’s a reason all the adult characters keep talking about balance. It can’t just be either all rage or all forgiveness. I can imagine Demetri harboring some pent up resentment over Hawk’s actions, buried so deep he doesn’t even realize it’s there until they have another fight.

And this time, it’s not Kreese’s brainwashing. It’s not that his best friend was angry about their lots in life and lashed out to extreme extents. There’s not a greater bad guy to point at behind Hawk, there’s not even really a bad guy. They’ve just been through a lot and they’re different people than they were when they first picked a college. Eli is telling him, “You’re my best friend but we’re never going back to how we used to be. We cannot go back and I’m not sure I want the same future as you.”

And this is after Demetri gets his best friend back. Apart from everything with Silver and Kreese, his life is going relatively uphill; Eli is good again, they have plenty of other friends, he’s dating Yasmine, and he’s learnt karate. Other than his friends’ success, he really isn’t looking for more than to preserve what he’s already gained. Losing MIT with Eli is a curveball he didn’t expect, just another thing he’s supposed to accept and move on from, and it happens when Demetri thinks he’s found security.

And then there Demetri’s motivation for wanting to compete in the Sekai Taikai. It’s not ambition. Demetri already got what he wanted out of Miyagi Do, he knows how to defend himself. In past seasons, he stayed because there was safety in numbers and of course he was against Cobra Kai. But now that Kreese is out of the valley, Demetri is still with the dojo because all his friends are there and he has developed a genuine enjoyment of martial arts. He doesn’t really want more. He says multiple times that he’s okay if where he’s at is the farthest he’ll go in terms of karate.

Demetri is comfortable being a side character. He doesn’t think he’ll ever outdo the core four or Hawk so he doesn’t see a point in trying. He wants to ride out the rest of his senior year with the dojo and then go to MIT, where he’ll do what he’s always been good at, where he might actually excel.

And Yasmine calls him out on this. They bonded when they were both at their lowest and she dated him while Demetri was helping the fight against Cobra Kai. She does not want him to throw in the towel too early and grow stagnant.

So, at first, Demetri really trains and tries his best to get picked for the Sekai Taikai to please her. But then Hawk tells him he’s unsure about MIT, and, “You chose my path?!” There was such genuine hurt in his voice, but Demetri could never hurt Hawk as much as Hawk hurt him. And Barnes said you have to be ruthless to get into the Sekai Taikai, yet Hawk showed him mercy, which Demetri exploits.

Demetri is clearly unsure of his actions when he takes the flag and runs. He seriously considers helping his best friend up. But when Eli decided to be selfish, he did so much damage, so why can’t Demetri be selfish this one time? Why can’t he lash out and take the victory he wants at the other’s expense? It’s not like he does anything worse than what Hawk’s done to him?

Sometimes you just need to hash it out and make up. It’s why Sam and Tory couldn’t spar properly after becoming friends; they realized they liked each other so they didn’t address their baggage. But because they didn’t, they felt at risk of falling into bad habits whenever the past finally did catch up to them. But they talked it out, they apologized for the things they regret, they brought up lingering resentments. Demetri wanted his best friend back so he forgave too easily, and now that they’re fighting again, so much past hurt is being brought to the surface.

Now that Cobra Kai is out of the valley, Demetri has started falling back to old habits. It’s been noted that he does most of the talking on Eli’s behalf in the early episodes of s6, his resignation about the Sekai Taikai reminds me a lot about his apathy towards high school in s1, and he assumes they’ll still go through with the college plans they made before their falling out. I do think Demetri genuinely wanted to be a part of the tournament but resigned himself after the team number was announced. When Hawk came clean about applying to MIT, Demetri finally decided to take more.

The show is about balance, it’s about finding a middle ground between defense and offense, Daniel and Johnny. I don’t think Demetri is gonna have a full blown villain arc or join Kreese or anything overly dramatic (we’re already getting that with Tory). He’s been loyal to Miyagi Do for too long. But that’s kind of the issue, he never fully let himself get angry at Hawk, and this is the result. Like Johnny said about Tory, if it takes a fight to process all your emotions, then fight, because holding it in will only make everything uglier.