#dees face in the corner
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dol-dee · 1 year ago
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I wonder, does Avery actually react when you get back from Remys farm/ does she chew you out about where you've been or does she not care at all?
I think I saw Whitney reacting to it in game? But who else? (cause I feel like I missed out. Nobody seemed to care not even Robin 😔)
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season1mac · 2 years ago
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i just don't understand why dee didn't try to get into dennis' head too? she knows exactly what buttons and comments to make. like why are they not letting dee DO ANYTHING ????!!!!!!!?????
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heard it’s good luck 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚
Summary: y/n planned to eat twelve grapes under the table. she was in for a surprise.
♡ ln x reader ⋆˙⟡
♡ fluff ⋆˙⟡
masterlist ☾☼
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the music pulsed, a rhythmic thump-thump-thump against y/n’s ribs. the party was in full swing, the air thick with laughter and the scent of slightly burnt popcorn (someone had attempted microwave popcorn and failed spectacularly). y/n, however, was on a mission of a different kind. she’d heard whispers of a new year’s eve tradition, something about eating twelve grapes under the table at midnight for good luck in the coming year, and she was determined to try it.
carefully, she’d procured twelve perfect grapes from the snack table, dodging a rogue elbow and a spilled punch in the process. as the clock ticked closer to midnight, she made her way to a large, sturdy table tucked in a quieter corner of the room. she ducked underneath, finding herself in a surprisingly spacious alcove of tablecloth and chair legs. she sat cross-legged, grapes at the ready, a small smile playing on her lips. this was going to be interesting.
just as she was about to pop the first grape into her mouth, a shadow fell across her. she looked up, startled, and saw another person sliding under the table, a bowl of grapes in their hands. and not just *any* person. it was lando.
y/n’s brain short-circuited. lando norris was under the table with her, about to partake in the same slightly ridiculous, undeniably charming tradition. she stared at him, speechless, her carefully planned opening line (“is this thing on?”) dying in her throat.
lando blinked, his eyes widening slightly as he registered who was sharing his grape-eating space. a slow smile spread across his face. “twelve grapes, huh?” he asked, his voice warm and amused.
y/n finally found her voice, though it came out a little breathier than she intended. “yeah,” she said, nodding. “heard it’s good luck.”
lando chuckled. “me too. though i’m not sure how much luck i need now that i’ve already got one wish done,” he joked, wiggling his fingers, a playful glint in his eyes.
y/n laughed, the tension melting away. “you never know,” she said. “maybe it’ll bring you even more.”
“maybe,” he agreed, popping a grape into his mouth. “ready?”
y/n nodded, mirroring his action. as the countdown began, they ate their grapes in unison, a shared smile passing between them with each grape. it was a strange, surreal, and utterly delightful way to start the new year’s eve countdown. under a table, with lando norris, sharing grapes and laughter. y/n couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this year was going to be pretty lucky after all.
⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅
dee, this is for you. i hope you enjoy this! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)
taglist: @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @anamiad00msday ; @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @peterholland04 ; @justaf1girl ; @greantii ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @phobiccneel ; @winkev1 ; @alexxavicry ; @hiireadstuff ; @opastries81
i'd love your support! https://ko-fi.com/kavi2305
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writingoddess1125 · 2 years ago
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The old men of One Piece finding out they have a child with you. Final Part
Shanks, Buggy, Mihawk X FemReader
Healthy mix of Angst and Fluff.
Support me on Ko-Fi
Author Note at End!-
Buggy
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Dee woke up first, feeling the scratching of wood on his face. Sitting up quickly he saw they were in a cell- more accurately the brig of a ship. Sitting up quickly he felt his head throbbing in discomfort, he saw Bee also knocked out and shook him hard.
"Get up-" He hissed, smacking Bee across the cheek which snapped him away.
"What the h-" Dee slammed his hand against his brothers lips quickly. Bee noticing were they were and rubbing the side of his head. Dee carefully removing his hand-
"We have to be quiet..."
"Do you remeber what happened?" Bee questioned, Dee shaking his head. It was all too fuzzy for him to remeber.
"Doesnt matter.. we just gotta get out of here" Bee nodded at this and both kids stood up, Dee deciding to climb to the top of the cell greatful he had been in the crowsnest for a while and learned how to climb the mast.
"Hey this ship is old enough, I think if we push in this plank will pop up and we can try and shimmy our way up"
Bee followed his twins lead and climbed up next to him- Both beginning to push on the plank and pry it from its position. Dee greatful they were both skinny kids slipped his way through the open planking the dim space before pulling Bee up behind him. Once in they looked around.
They stared in awe- realizing this is must have been were they were stashing the treasure- it was small just big enough for the twins to stand with an inch of head space above them.
Bee grabbed some gold coins and shoved them into his pocket with a greedy smile. However Dee eyes went to a series of 3 boxes nearly stuck in a corner, kneeling down as he grabbed one and cracked it open seeing some odd looking fruit.
"Did you find food?" Bee said appearing like the Imp he was and peering down at it- it was boxes of fruit. Both boys groaned at the sight, You forced them to eat fruit most the time since they didn't really have a taste for healthy. Bee picked up the first one he saw and held it with one hand and frowned-
"That's it? Just some old fruit? They don't even have chocolate?" He grumbled figuring better tasting stuff was more valuable.
"Just shut up and eat it- We don't know if we will get food again" Dee argued back, Grabbing one from the box as well. Insync the two took a bite of their respective fruits and shivered in disgust as they tasted it. Bee barely able to swallow the first bite and quickly chucked it at a wall-
"What the hell was that!?" He yelled, Dee chewing his own in disgust before his eyes widened as he covered his brothers mouth. But it was far too late. Heavy footsteps quickly marched above them and both boys hit as the secret hatch above them opened- they saw a large pale man frowning as he looked at his secret treasures, he had a big purple fur coat, a wide brim hat that matched, way too small of eyes that made him look squashed like a pug. As he looked around clearly keeping an eye on his treasure Dee unfortunately was not keeping an eye on Bee who had grabbed a gold Dagger from the collection of goods and stabbed the captians hand. The large man yelled and jumped back-
Just like with all things- It seemed improve was Bee's go to!
Like two little rabbits both boys rushed out of the hiding hole and rushed out the Captian's Quarters while the blinged out Captian yelled and yanked the knife from his hand.
Dee and Bee ran through the halls of the ship, This wasn't like their dad's so it was difficult to navigate. However as if luck was on their side they rushed to the Main Deck- there they saw the ship and crew-
It was like they got flash banged by glitter- All the crew mates were wearing sequence in some way while the ship looked like someone had dunked it in cheap glitter and rhinestones.
"Did we get kidnapped by literally the lamest pirates?-" Bee questioned as the crew looked at the twins in shock.
"The hostages are escaping!!!" A crewmate yelled as all hell broke loose, The boys scrambled and darted in different directions. Dodging and lacing through the grown men at best they could- the boys were quite literally running laps around these idiots and having them knock into each other-
"Enough!!" What was assumed was the first mate held a gun up and fired directly at Dee clearly not caring about keeping a hostage for ransom anymore.
Dee stood in shock as the bullet came right at him- Before silence. Bee stood there in shock as Dee slowly looked down, There sat the bullet perfectly stuck to his chest. Carefully he pulled it off him and dropped it to the ground. Shocked just as much as the Crew members.
"THEY MUST HAVE EATEN A DEVIL FRUIT! THROW THEM OVERBOARD!!"
The Crew yelled before the grown men all charged at the boys- Dee picking up an oar and ready to defend himself. Till the oar didn't come off his hands- he started to wave it around wildly to get it off, Hitting the men in the process of doing so.
"Sorry!!" He yelled as he tried to kick off the oar from his hands but it smacked a guy in his teeth and landed perfectly back in his grasp sticking once again. His feet sticking to the ground as he bent backwards as a guy jumped at him and jumped into the sea around them.
"I-Im sorry!-" Dee cried as he spun around and the oar stuck to him swung and smacked another pirate inbetween the legs.
The oar finally unsticking from his hands and falling to the floor with a unflattering thud.
He looked to hear cackling as he watched Bee have the damn time of his life- He bounced like a spring everywhere, going incredibly fast as he punched different crewmates with the force of the abilities.
It seemed everytime Bee swung a wave of force would come out of him sending men flying at kicks and punches. He laughed loudly at this and looked on at the destruction he was causing.
Once all the crew mates were knocked out the hard steps and laughter from the Lower Deck caught their attention. The massive Captian clapping in praise as he walked up to the Main Deck.
"The Tack Tack fruit and the Bam Bam Fruit- Fitting you two would stumble upon it! One makes you Just sticky enough that nothing on the outside can harm you just stick, while the Bam Bam fruit lets you double your natural abilties every time you hit it twice"
The Captian bellowed as he stared down at the two boys- Pulling off his coat with a laugh revealing the many gold chains on his body and heavy rings on his fingers.
"Behold a true devil fruit! The Bling Bling Fruit!" He yelled as he clapped his hands and his whole body turned into glittering gold before punching the ground hard shattering thay part of the deck, The boys jumped out of the way of the impact.
"Too bad it won't keep you from being crusted to death!!" He yelled as he began to jump and use himself as a human Canonball- The boys barely dodging the attacks, the few times Bee tried to make a hit the mental just hurt his hands and made him jump away.
The Blinged out Captian continue to terrorize the boys, as well as landing blows on them that they barely were able to escape.
The Captian laughed loudly as the two boys were just trying a means to escape at this point, The older man hitting Dee who flung overboard barely able to stick to the side of the ship to keep from hitting the water.
"DANNY!" Bee called out as he rushed to pull his brother up. As he did so he saw the Captian power up and jump ready to crush to two under his weight.
"BLING BLING CRUSSH- OOF!-" He cried out as a Special Muggy Ball suddently smacked into his back exploding and propelled him into the ocean past the two kids. Both boys frozen as they saw The Big Top ship came into View, Buggy at the front as massive hooks came to the side of the blinged out ship and pulled it close.
"DAD!!!" Both boys cried out, Buggy and You rushing from the Big Top to the smaller pirate ship quickly and towards the twins. Buggy using his Chop Chop abilities to grab both twins from so close to the rails and pull them close.
"Oh thank Heavens you're alright!!" You cried out as you kissed their faces, tears rushing down your cheeks as you held them both close.
"How did you find us?" Bee fried out, As you smoothed your hand over his and Dee's face.
"You don't make your ship shiny cause you turn into a sailing Lighthouse thay anyone can track-" Buggy pointed out as he gestured to the glittery ship.
"Are you two hurt? Oh my goodness is that a busted lip!?" You cried as you looked at Dee's face.
"We are okay, we did most of the damage anyway! And the bullets didn't hurt me!"
"Yeah We were beating them all up too! And fought the whole crew with our awesome abilties!!" Bee yelled excitedly.
Buggy froze at this like a record scratch, staring at his sons with the most deadpan stare he could possibly muster as his eye twitched.
"Boys- Please elaborate on what the hell you mean by that?-" He asked as he put one of each hand on his shoulder and kneeled down to their eyelevel.
Bee grinned widely at this as he giggled excitedly, before snacking Dee and his hand sticking to his brothers face. Dee glared at this and yanked him off him aggressively before kicking his brother in the shin- making Bee cry out and hop on one leg, of course after that second jump he shot through the air.
Buggy giving his signature scream in shock before his hands flew out and grabbed Bee quickly before he flew into the ocean.
"YOU TWO ATE DEVIL FRUITS?!" He screamed out as he brought back bee carefully and proceeded to grill them on finding out how and why-
"Yeah the Tack Tack fruit and the Bam Bam fruit!!" Boy boys said in unison.
They ate a devil fruit- both ate a devil fruit... you turned away and felt your body stagger a bit as the words that Buggy was screaming in panic about to the twins was mumbled on you-
Both of them... Cursed to never swim... while you're out on sea... and both of them are pre-teen boys that don't listen...
You didn't remeber your face smashing into the main deck due to you fainting- However you sure as hell felt it when next thing you know Buggy is fanning your face and holding you in his lap in panic. Your boys standing around you as well and a few crewmates with a wet rag for you and a first aid kit.
"Buggy... please tell me your genes did not win and have not one...but both our twins eat a devil fruit"
You whimper out, Buggy wincing at your words a little and nodding that unfortunately it was true-
"Oh dear Gods..." You sigh- almost ready to faint again.
"Mommy I promise we won't cause any trouble" You heard Bee said, his voice softer then normal as he was clearly worried. Dee nodding in agreement as he too looked worried that you were mad at them.
"I know my loves- I... it's just very dangerous"
You say softly, Sitting up with the help of Biggy who rubs your back in comfort. Dee and Bee stand there nervous for a moment, before Dee whispers to his brother who grins and reach into his baggy pants pockets.
"Here Mommy! I have just the thing to show we will be okay- TAHA!" He yelled out as he pulled out two large handfuls of treasure.
Both you and Buggy's jaw drops at the sight. "Where did you get that!?" You yell and Dee smiles at this.
"On that ship we escaped" He said proudly, Buggy started in saying to bring it to the treasure room but the boys refused. Saying it was theirs and they would hide it in the best spot! Running from the both of you laughing as they plotted their treasure spot.
"I suppose a Pirates life is for them" You said with a tired chuckle, staring at the two as they ran away to the lower deck. Buggy helped you stand fully this time, not bothering to chase the kids for their nice lump of treasure.
"They will be amazing pirates for sure- and great men"
Feeling a arm around your waist, glancing up with a raised brow to see Buggy wide grin.
"You know, I haven't gotten that much time with the boys especially in those important younger years. I did miss so much and wish I got to experience those baby years as a Dad"
You slowly raised your brow as your eyes narrowed at the man who continued to grin with mischief in his eyes.
"What if we-"
You sent him a glare that made him smile nervously.
"Hell Fucking No-"
Shanks
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It had been about 6 months since Shanks had returned into Vivians life. It had been slow going but getting there. The two had days were it was just them together and you could see that spark in Vivian's eye slowly coming back as her and Shanks hung out more-
Today was one of those days, Both having returned from a day out boating and having a picnic.
"Hey Mommy! We're home!" Vivian yelled put holding the empty picnic basket in her arms as Shanks smiled at you.
"Hey you two, How was today's boating adventure?" You ask, Smirking at the proud smile on Shanks face as Vivian began to mindlessly chatter about how much fun she had with Shanks. The man was clearly doing everything in his power to make it up to Vivian.
"I'm glad you two had fun"
As you speak this a wash off a odd feeling it you- You lean against the countertop, feeling lighthearted and dizzy. Assuming you had first thought you may have over worked yourself or not had enough water.
"(Y/N)?.." You hear Shanks call out to you as you felt odd. Closing your eyes as you staggered and fell being barely caught by a panic Shanks who called your name but the words warping before you feel unconscious.
When the doctor had arrived he had done every test imaginable and came out with grim results. An illness that couldn't be cursed and only be drawn out- he did everything he could in terms of medication however you all knew it was grim. Vivian took the news worse then anyone, insisting that you could improve if she did more. You and Shanks both having to slow her down and keep her from having a breakdown at that.
It had been a month since your diagnosis and you knew you were rapidly falling apart. Your legs being the first thing that went- you lips starting to get a sickly shade of blue and pain coursing through your form at all times. Vivian having decided to try and become a sort of care taker for you despite Shanks being there who helped you daily, she was desperate in wanting you to get better and it broke your heart to see-
"It's okay Mommy, you'll get better. Just takes time"
Laying in bed you watch Vivican fuss with your blankets talking about keeping you warm so you could get better. However you knew you wouldn't... your time was approaching and there wasn't anything to be done.
"Vi.. could you do me a favor and run to the market to get my favorite icecream?" You ask softly, watching her nod and run downstairs to do as you asked. Leaving you and Shanks alone, there was a few moments of silence before you sighed.
"Shanks... when I'm gone please take Vivian with you... she can't be alone" Shanks opened his mouth, most likely yo protest you dying but you held a hand up calmly.
"I know what will be happening to me... and in truth, I don't want to suffer either.. which is the second thing I need to ask of you-"
You saw his eyes water at this, bowing his head at the words. You knew you were asking too much of him- But he was the only one you trusted now and needed his help.
"What do you want done?..." He asked softly, his voice barely over a whisper.
"First... I want to have a nice dinner with all of you- And I want to tuck Vivian in... after she goes to bed.. me and you share one final drink together"
You say calmly, reaching over to grab the bottle of pain pills the doctor had given you. Holding the bottle out to him, his resolve cracking at this as tears rolled down his cheeks. Clutching the bottle hard and nodding.
"Okay... I can do that... And after?" He spoke between tears and trying to control his emotions. Tears running down your own cheeks at this point.
"Cremation.. and my ashes spread in the sea... the most beautiful place you can think of"
Shanks nodded at this tears running down his cheeks as he slipped the bottle into his jacket pocket for later.
When Vivian got back she was met with a surprising display, both her parents in the kitchen cooking. You seated on one of the chairs slowly and carefully cutting up ingredients while her father was stood adding it to different pots and mixing it with a spoon.
"Ah Vi, Thank you for the ice cream love. Wanna help us make dinner?"
Vivian smiled widely at this and nodded. It turned into a wonderful time together, the family making a wonderful curry dinner that was filled with laughter and nice stories- You and Shanks talking about your guys dating in the past, Vivian felt like she was in cloud nine. You were smiling and cheerful while Shanks was attentive and kind.
Once having your fill and eating the ice cream together Vivian watched you and Shanks together. After the family time Shanks carried you upstairs to Vivian's room were you read to her, kissing her forehead and tucking her in to the best of your abilities.
That evening once Vivian was put to bed Shanks laid you back in your own, careful in his task as he tucked you in with his hand and added several pillows to make you comforble.
Once laid out he grabbed two bottles of Rum. With shaking hands he added the crushed up pain pills in one and mixed it calmly before handing it to you.
Tears rolling down both of your guys cheeks as you both sat there together. Shanks leaned over and gently kisses your lips, sniffling as tears rushed down his cheek.
"I want to say I love you (Y/N)... and you have blessed me with not only your presence but our beautiful daughter.."
You smile at his kind words, returning the kiss and caressing his cheek.
"I love you too Shanks, you are a wonderful man who made me a Mother to a beautiful daughter.. I know you'll take wonderful care of her"
Holding your bottle up you both cheers and take the first sip of many, At this you two drink that night and for the final time.
When day rose, you were gone. Vivian had been woken up by the sound of the doctor talking, rushing out to see him and Shanks talking calmly his face red from crying. She rushed to him and peered into your room were a white sheet covered your form. Her eyes widening and her body running cold at the sight- She didn't even hear the words from Shanks as he laid a hand on her shoulder.
She stepped forward and he followed silently behind as she took a seat on the bed and touched the outline of your hand. Tears running down her cheeks as she looked on at your covered form, her hand hesitating in wanting to lift the shroud but stopped herself. Instead looking at Shanks who was silently crying while standing there.
"W-Was she in pain?" She asked, Shanks shook his head no at this. Vi nodded softly at this, before standing up from her seat and stepping towards Shanks and pressed her face against him- slowly her sobs began to fill the room as she wrapped her arms around his leg and cried. Shanks placing a hand on her head as he let her, she needed to cry.
The next few days had been a blur, Vivian had said her final goodbyes to you, crying by your side before the doctor took your body to he cremated. Shanks took control, he had organized the memorial, picked up the ashes to bring with him on his journey to sea and been with Vivian every step of the way. Vivian keeping the rights to the house and bakery when she wished to return, as well as packing up her room to be set onto his ship.
It was so much going on and all too quickly, yet it seemed like he was watching it in slow motion. Watching how Vivian looked out at sea or held the apron you always wore, it was hard for her yet she seemed to understand and accept it as well.
"Vivian.. are you ready?" Shanks called out, Stepping into her empty room as he crew took the last few boxes to his ship. She was standing there looking out the window holding your apron. Snapping from her thoughts she looked at him and nodded, folding the apron and putting it in her suitcase before following Shanks silently.
Once to the ship Vivian hesitated for a while, standing there as she watched the ship bustle to set sail as quickly as possible. She turned to look at the island, holding her suitcase still as the wind picked up through her red hair.
Vivian stood there, tears running down her cheeks as she looked out at what had once been her home with you.. her life that she knew with you was gone.
Feeling a hand on her back she looked up to see Shanks, looking as glum as her as he looked down at her. No words would be a comfort to her, they both knew that... but ironically they would only have each other from now on and the memories of you to keep them floating.
Mihawk
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It was like clash of the titans in your home- Ever since you and Mihawk's tumble on the couch.
Mihawk and Alucare seemed to be constantly and silently fighting with each other. While they claimed it was training you were pretty sure Alucare taking a razor to the back of Mihawk's head was not apart of training or the need for Mihawk to quite literally toss his son to the other side of the island as punishment.
However it seemed in some way they were getting along- mainly when the two did real training in the orchard by your home. Since Alucare had a interest in blades Mihaek had taken up to training him- even procuring a curved sword he called a kilij to train him with. Alucare had taken up to this training well and had been getting better everyday. It had genuinely turned into a rather picturesque family envirment for the past few months much to your delight.
Today was just the same, Alucare and Mihawk up at dawn to train- Then silently fighting with each other, you cleaned up from breakfast and right on cue Mihawk walked in having let Alucare leave for school taking a seat at the dining room table.
You two shared a small conversation with each other as Mihawk unwined, you pausing however to take a break.
You rubbed your lower back in mild discomfort, you didn't notice Mihawk's gaze on you. How his eyes lingered on your form as you moved through the house.
"Dinner? Sure we can have dinner together next week, sounds like fun- Oh before I forget let me get you some tea-"
"Let me" You heard him say, and stand up quickly. Gesturing for you to take a seat quickly as he went to make the tea.
"It's okay Mih-"
"You're back hurts. It's more then acceptable to make my own tea and for you to rest.. You shouldn't work yourself so hard" Mihawk says calmly and surprises you by how he just took over the kitchen and sets down a cup of lavender tea, you raised a brow at this since he normally drank black.
"It's just mild back pain-" You pointed out, narrowing your eyes at him. Something was clearly up.
"Let's go to the doctors... if you are uncomfortable it's safer" He insisted as he took a seat and sipped his own tea ignoring your hard stares.
"...You know something don't you?-" You point out adding some honey to the lavender tea. But he stays quiet and continued to sip his tea.
At first you refuses to go to the doctors, hoping to prybit out of Mihawk what he was hiding- However the man just kept pestering you to go. It only took a few hours of his nagging for you to decide to go.
A few hours passing and Alucare returned, Clearly having decided to skip classes again to just return home. Walking in cautiously to see Mihawk in the kitchen and you nowhere to be found.
"Where is mom?" Alucare asked as he saw Mihawk quickly chopping vegetables-
"She will be returning shortly-" was all he said, but Alucare knew that tone. The old man was up to something.
The door slammed open and both men turned in surprise looking like two startled black cats with their fur raised- You were never one to flare your temper but oh boy did you look pissed. Holding a paper in your hand and glaring hard at Mihawk.
"You knew!!" You yelled pointing at him, Alucare stepping to the side out of the line of fire. Mihawk lowered the cooking knife and turned to look at you as you stomped forward.
"What did the doctor say?" He asked calmly, a almost playful tone on his face as you tossed the paper directly to his chest which he caught and began reading through carefully.
"You knew you got me pregnant again! You knew this whole damn time didn't you!!" You yelled, Alucare jaw dropping at the news and clearly now wanting to leave the room.
"I have no idea what you're talking about" He said calmly as he read through the paper, a smirk on his face as he read through it. You snatch the doctors paper from his hands that indicated you were in the early stages of pregnancy.
"You knew!- You ass!" You blush flustered as you hold the papers. Mihawk staring at you blankly and shrugging slightly like he didn't know what you were talking about- You placed your hand on your hips and narrowed your gaze.
"Damn it Mihawk we are both too old for a baby! Besides I can't fit a newborn in this house its-"
"Come move in with me" Mihawk said, this surprised you and Alucare together over how serious Mihawk seemed about this.
"I have missed the birth of one of my children already.. as well as you being forced to raise him on his own- I will not allow it a second time... I want both of you to move in with me" He explained, Gesturing to both of you with his hands. An air of silence followed.
"Mihawk- I couldn't just mooch off of you, I mean what would they think if just a random person moved into your home? I-I wou-" You were cut off again with a raised hand.
"You wouldnt be mooching off of me, you will be my wife and if anyone who dares come to my island has an issue with you as my wife they will learn quickly not to-"
Pause. Wife? Your eyebrows raised at hearing this, your cheeks feeling far too warm and chest fluttering.
Alucare looking slightly surprised by this as well.
"Wife? Since when have you married my mother?-" Alucare demanded as he crossed his arms over his chest.
"I planned on asking next week, however things have changed with the arrival of your sibling. So I'm asking now" He said bluntly.
That's when it clicked, thay dinner that Mihawk had asked you to join him at- That ment he was most likely going to propose then to you and ask you anyway to be his wife-
You covered your mouth in shock at this revolution. Mihawk smiled calmly at this, as he stepped closer to you. Alucare scrunched his face up in disgust at being caught in this sort of emotional situation.
"...If you're still interested I'd prefer to ask now. The ring order won't be ready till tommorow however..." Mihawk admitted as he placed his hands on your hips. Tears welling up in your eyes and you nodded.
"Yes, I will marry you-" You whisper out, Hugging the man you were so close to castrating just moments ago. Mihawk returning the gesture calmly as his hand settled on your waist.
"We will be moved out by the end of this week, it will be a bit of a sail to my Island so I will make sure everything is safe for the journey" He stated calmly, Alucare looking ready to barf at this point.
"I get no say in this do I-" Alucare asked as he stared at both of you.
"No."
"No-"
And that was that.
It seemed Mihawk really did manage to do as said, by the weeks end he had purchased a larger ship since he didn't think the Hitsugibune sea craft he usually used would carry you all comforbly and keep you safe. So he purchased a larger sea vessel, hiring also some local men to pack up the house and load everything onto the ship- Since your house was tiny it didn't take long.
Mihawk hadn't let you lift a finger- when you offered to help move things or even to cook lunch to bring on the journey he had refused and took the task himself. Alucare had also been weirdly okay with this all, he hadn't made a lot of friends in school so he wasnt attached to that- He'd explored all of the island and neighboring islands as well so he didn't care about the area-
Just like Mihawk had said, by the end of the week the small family was ready to depart- everything had been packed, enough food for up to 6 people to last a year instead of 3 as well as every supply imaginable.
You held Mihawk's had as he escorted you on the ship- still helicopering you. One hand on your lower back as he lead you on board.
"Mihawk Dear I'm not made of glass" You giggle softly, seeing the rather focused look on his eyes as he made sure you were fine while on board.
"I'm aware, but I wish for your safety only Darling" He says softly, Making you blush deeply and turn away in surprise. Alucare followed behind and rolled his eyed at the flirting between his parents.
Alucare looked at the island he had called home for the last time, feeling the tug of the small ship as it pulled from the docks ready to set sail.
This was the start of a new life.. and while he would never say it- he was excited for whatever was to come.
Author Note:
WOW! This sure has been one hell of a journey! I'm so glad that all of you have enjoyed these stories and have given me the chance to write for so many of you! These series has gifted me my first 800+ followers to my page and I couldn't be happier!
As a way to celebrate and yelp organize these stories I have organized them and put them on AO3! That and with some extra stories to go with them! They are also separated into individual stories as well!
Twice as Difficult Buggy x Reader and Twins
Memories that Wait Shanks x Reader and Vivian
Copy and Paste Mihawk x Reader and Alucare
Thank you all again and I hope to see you all soon!
Tag List-
@lunanight1021 @lolavegas20 @cuteastrash @thatcharmingmushroom @marsilis @thesadvampire @amecchii @zaphira-san @matronofthevoid @mothmans-left-nipple @hoe4fiction @manyimaginativemuses @alyholmes02 @arianyo @chaoticpercy-jacksonkid @lansy-4 @skeetyeetyote @untoldshortsofthefandoms @dank-memes19 @peachycuptea @kenqki @psycheflame @commanderfreethatdust
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velouriaris · 1 month ago
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━━━ 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 ℂ𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖 ━━━
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CONTENT WARNING: This story contains extremely dark themes including psychological horror, obsessive love, graphic violence, non-consensual captivity, physical punishment (past), emotional abuse, and threats of bodily harm. Sebastian being a cruel demon but he's soft in this ep.
Taglist: @gumboug
Part 1: Silk Chains & Crimson Bones
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You woke up to pain.
Not the kind that faded with time or dulled with sleep, but the kind that sank its teeth into you, bone-deep and searing. The kind that clawed up your spine and made it impossible to breathe.
Your eyes fluttered open slowly, lashes sticky with dried tears. The room was dim—gray dawn filtering weakly through the cabin’s frost-bitten window. Shadows stretched long and silent across the wooden walls, and the fire… it had burned to embers. Cold crept in like a phantom, curling around your fragile frame.
You tried to move.
The pain answered before your limbs did.
A sick, splitting agony surged through your body—raw and hot, radiating from your arms and legs. Your breath hitched, caught in your throat. A strangled sob escaped your lips before you could swallow it.
Your arms… bound in linen. Not tightly, but decisively. You could feel the hard pressure of wooden splints beneath layers of stiff cloth. Your ankles too—wrapped, elevated slightly by folded blankets. 
Everything was aching. Bruised. Fractured. Dismantled.
Bandages held you together, but just barely.
You laid there, completely still, the stale scent of blood and antiseptic hanging heavy in the air. The mattress felt damp beneath you, cold from your own sweat. Every beat of your heart seemed to rattle your broken bones.
You didn’t need to move to remember.
You didn’t need to look to know.
He had broken you.
He had kept his word.
And worst of all…
You deserved it.
Tears welled in your eyes again, spilling over the corners, sliding hot and helpless into your hair. The salt stung the cuts on your cheeks—small, angry reminders of the struggle you’d lost.
You cried, not just from the pain…
But from everything.
From what you’d done.
From who had paid the price.
Your thoughts drifted to him.
The hunter.
You hadn’t even learned his name.
But his face—
That rough, worn kindness in his eyes when he’d knelt beside you, wrapping you in his coat like a child—
That memory burned.
His voice had been gentle.
“Easy now… You’re safe.”
He had believed you.
He had tried to protect you.
And now?
Now he was—
You sobbed, a raw, trembling sound that tore itself from your throat before you could muffle it. You turned your face into the pillow, trying to stifle the noise. Trying not to scream.
Because you could still see it.
His body, limp and bloodied.
The way Sebastian had lifted him like he weighed nothing, the way his throat had cracked under that gloved hand. The sound—oh God, the sound—of his ribs being crushed open, the wet tearing of muscle and bone.
Your stomach turned.
You wanted to vomit.
But your body wouldn’t let you move.
And so you lay there, in your broken shell, sobbing like a child.
“I’m sorry…” you whispered between gasps, though no one was there to hear it. “I’m so sorry…
The bindings were too tight.
The pain too deep.
You tried not to think about how he’d looked at you—Sebastian—when he dropped that body at your feet like it was your doing.
Like you had twisted the hunter’s spine and you had painted the earth red.
But… hadn’t you?
Hadn’t you known what Sebastian was?
Hadn’t you felt the warning in your bones every time he smiled?
Hadn’t you run anyway, knowing he would follow?
And now… someone’s father was dead.
Someone’s husband.
Someone who only wanted to help.
You imagined his wife's  screaming when she learned her husband's brutal death. 
You imagined the child’s silent confusion.
You imagined the casket. The burial. The empty space at the dinner table that would never be filled again.
Because of you.
It's all because of you.
A dry, broken sob cracked your chest. You buried your face deeper into the bedding, as if you could hide from the guilt clawing at your insides.
“I’m sorry…”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“I just wanted to be free…”
The words meant nothing.
They dissolved into air.
No one could hear you.
No one was coming.
You cried until your throat was raw, until your lungs burned from the effort. Until the sobs quieted into little hiccups and your breath came in shallow, uneven drags.
And then you just laid there.
Tears cooling on your skin, bandages stiffening as they dried, chest rising and falling in numb surrender.
You wished you could disappear.
You wished your body had broken completely.
That your heart had stopped.
That you had never been found at all.
The ache wasn’t just in your limbs now.
It had taken root deeper—in your soul, if anything of it was left.
A hollow thing. A cracked doll with nothing inside but pain.
You shut your eyes tight, as if the darkness would offer silence.
But all you could hear was the hunter’s voice.
His last gasp.
And Sebastian’s, too.
Whispering like a shadow through the back of your mind:
This is what defiance brings…
You didn’t notice when more tears came.
You didn’t notice the light shift outside.
You just lay there—shattered, silent, sobbing into a pillow that smelled like blood and lilies.
And you wished, more than anything, that you’d never tried to run.
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The door opened quietly.
Too quietly—like a whisper brushing against your skin, like silk grazing raw nerves. Even before you saw him, you felt him. Felt the room’s temperature shift subtly, the air becoming heavier, thicker, darker.
Your breath halted involuntarily. You didn’t even dare turn your head; not that you could’ve easily managed it with your limbs bound and splinted, immobile and throbbing with a persistent, unbearable ache.
Tears still stained your cheeks, drying in streaks down to your jawline, warm and sticky reminders of your grief. You desperately wished you could hide the evidence, wipe them away, pretend even briefly you were stronger. But you couldn’t move. You could only lie helplessly, your back partially turned to the door, forced to endure whatever came next.
His footsteps echoed softly behind you, measured and deliberate. Every quiet tap of his heels on the wooden floorboards sent chills crawling up your spine, amplified by your heightened senses, sharpened by fear. Your heartbeat quickened, wild and uneven beneath your chest.
You bit your trembling lip, fresh tears welling in your eyes, silently praying that perhaps he would leave, perhaps he’d spare you his presence, his scrutiny, his impossible expectations.
There was the gentle, precise clinking of porcelain. The faint sound of something—a tray, perhaps—being carefully placed on the bedside table. Then silence, dreadful silence. You felt him watching you. Your vulnerability made your stomach churn, nausea rising bitterly to your throat.
Then, at last, he spoke. His voice was a caress of velvet over iron.
“My, my…” he said softly, the words dripping with practiced calmness, flavored with a hint of mocking amusement. “You’re quite emotional today, aren’t you?”
Your breath caught painfully in your chest. You didn’t respond. You couldn’t.
He sighed gently, the sound tender and almost sympathetic, yet beneath it lay a subtle, sharp cruelty, unmistakably Sebastian. He moved closer, his presence looming behind you, towering effortlessly above your fragile, bandaged form.
“Whatever is the matter, my dear?” he continued, voice smooth and controlled, as if he truly couldn’t fathom why you might be in tears. “Did I bind your limbs too tightly?”
His fingertips—gloved, gentle, deceptively soft—grazed lightly across the exposed skin just above your wrist, tracing the careful edges of the linen wrappings. The contact made you shiver, not just from fear but from a physical pain that radiated deeply into your bones.
“You see,” he murmured, leaning closer until his breath brushed warmly over the side of your neck, “I made certain to apply the bandages exactly as needed. I stabilized the bones with wooden splints—pine, sturdy enough to hold your fragile limbs straight. Then linen wraps—tight enough to hold firm, yet loose enough for circulation. Elevation and pressure precisely balanced. Just as a skilled surgeon would perform.”
He spoke as though he were describing a work of fine craftsmanship, and perhaps to him, it was. Your limbs, your body—mere materials, objects carefully repaired after he himself had broken them.
“But,” he added softly, tone sharpening just enough to be noticed, “no matter how precisely I bind you, how carefully I monitor swelling and infection, all my efforts become meaningless if your body lacks the proper nourishment.”
You still didn’t move, didn’t speak. Your body trembled with repressed sobs, barely contained terror, and quiet, helpless anger at your own pathetic fragility.
Sebastian straightened slightly, though he didn’t move away. You felt him pick up something from the tray—a bowl, judging by the porcelain’s slight ring—and soon a delicious, warm aroma drifted gently into your senses.
“I brought you breakfast,” he stated simply, matter-of-factly. “Consommé of pheasant—clear, nourishing broth to replenish lost fluids and salts, precisely what you need. There’s a touch of wild herbs to soothe inflammation. Warm bread, freshly baked, soaked in clarified butter to bolster your strength. A tart of ripe pears for sweetness, to lift your spirits.”
He paused, allowing you a moment to process. Your empty stomach twisted at the descriptions, hunger gnawing at your insides. Yet your mind stubbornly rebelled. You didn’t deserve food, didn’t deserve nourishment, not after what your foolish escape had cost.
“Your body needs nutrients,” he explained patiently, calmly, as if lecturing a disobedient child. “Bones are living things. They require calcium, protein, vitamins. Without them, they won’t mend properly. They’ll set crooked, twisted, warped. You wouldn’t want that, would you? You wouldn’t wish to cripple yourself permanently simply out of stubborn pride?”
His voice was gentle, soothing, almost caring—but beneath his words lurked a cold, implicit threat. You knew all too well that Sebastian never asked rhetorical questions. Every word he spoke carried calculated intention.
“Now,” he continued softly, “I need you to eat. If you resist, I’ll have no choice but to feed you myself again. And we both remember how unpleasant that was the last time.”
You closed your eyes tightly, the memory flashing vividly. How his elegant hands had roughly forced your jaw open, the spoon pushed deep until you gagged, coughing, choking on broth that dripped messily onto your skin, your clothes, staining the pristine sheets. His quiet tsk of disappointment, his murmured reprimands—Such waste, my dear. Such unnecessary mess.
You shuddered openly, your tears flowing once more, silent and hot down your already damp cheeks.
He noticed immediately.
“You’re trembling,” Sebastian observed quietly. His tone remained gentle, yet it darkened subtly. “Do I truly frighten you so?”
You couldn’t answer. Your throat was raw, constricted with grief and fear. Your silence was confirmation enough.
He sighed once more, a gentle exhale that tickled your skin.
“Very well,” he murmured, a patient threat, “we’ll do this slowly, then.”
He settled himself beside you on the bed, carefully positioning himself so that you remained trapped, immobilized not just by broken bones but by his very presence. His gloved hand took the silver spoon, scooped the rich broth, and brought it to your lips.
“Open,” he commanded softly.
You hesitated, your lips quivering, eyes clenched shut.
Sebastian’s voice grew colder, quieter, infinitely more dangerous.
“Do not test my patience. You will eat—by your choice or mine.”
Tears slipped from beneath your eyelids, betraying your helplessness. Your mouth opened weakly, resignedly. The broth slipped warmly past your lips, comforting yet hateful, delicious yet repugnant.
“See?” he whispered approvingly, coaxingly. “Good girl.”
The phrase felt like acid, burning humiliation into your mind.
Each spoonful came slowly, methodically. He paused after each swallow, carefully wiping your mouth, inspecting you closely. His care was meticulous, unnerving, clinical. The atmosphere thickened with tension, fear, dread of inevitable cruelty.
After a long silence, broken only by the soft sounds of your swallowing, he spoke again, his voice dropping into a velvet threat:
“If you ever again attempt to escape… let me assure you, what I’ve done now—merely breaking your limbs—will seem merciful in comparison.”
Your breath hitched painfully in your chest. He placed the spoon back into the bowl, setting it down gently, then leaned closer, voice low, hushed, precise:
"Next time, I will tear your limbs from your body entirely.”
He touched your arm gently, almost tenderly, tracing invisible patterns over your bandaged limb.
“I’ll carefully slice the skin and peel it back—slowly, layer by layer, exposing muscle beneath. I’ll sever each tendon neatly, individually, taking care to avoid major arteries. You’ll remain conscious, awake to every sensation.”
His breath brushed softly against your ear.
“Next, the joints. I’ll carefully, deliberately separate each one, breaking cartilage away from bone, listening for that satisfying pop as the joint dislocates. Only after I’ve disconnected every muscle, every ligament, will I tear the limb completely free. Both your arms and legs from their sockets”
You whimpered, your eyes widened in fear.
He cupped your cheek, thumb stroking away a tear you didn’t even know had fallen.
“Once it’s done… once your lovely arms or legs are gone… you’ll be so much easier to manage. So light. So docile. Just a soft, helpless little creature for me to cradle. Like a kitten with no claws.”
His smile widened—not cruel, but possessive.
“And you’d still be beautiful, you know. Even limbless. So small, so delicate. Mine.”
He tilted his head, as if considering the idea sincerely.
“In fact… you’d be quite perfect. No more running. No more bruising your sweet skin on the forest floor. Just you, warm and silent in my arms, where you belong.”
Your body trembled violently. He felt it.
And he laughed softly.
“But… I won’t do that,” he murmured. “Not if you behave. Not if you remain my good girl.”
He leaned in, breath brushing your lips, his voice a velvet purr.
“I love your little hands. Your trembling legs. The way they curl when I touch you. I would hate to ruin them…”
His hand slid down your thigh, lingering at the edge of the splint, gentle but heavy.
“…But I will. If you make me. So… let’s not test me again, hm?”
Sebastian pulled back slightly, grabbed the bow again, calmly resuming feeding as though nothing had happened, as though he hadn’t just meticulously detailed your mutilation.
He offered another spoonful, his expression serene, his voice gently admonishing:
“Now, please, my dear. Let’s not let your food get cold.”
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The porcelain spoon gently scraped the bottom of the bowl, collecting the last few precious droplets of broth. Sebastian lifted it gracefully to your lips once more, patient, composed, and completely unhurried. Your trembling mouth obediently accepted it, though your eyes remained fixed downward, gaze filled with uncertainty and lingering fear.
"That's my good girl," Sebastian praised softly, voice smooth as velvet and just as dark, carefully setting the spoon down upon the tray beside the empty bowl. "I knew you could be obedient if you truly wished to."
You shivered slightly at the soft edge of his voice, unsure whether it brought comfort or only deeper dread. Yet you remained still, trapped by your injuries, completely at his mercy.
Gently, Sebastian lifted a silk napkin, meticulously folding one corner around his gloved finger. He leaned forward, the bed dipping slightly beneath his precise movements. You instinctively flinched, but his touch was gentle as he softly wiped away the small droplets of broth that clung to your lips. Each swipe was slow, measured, undeniably tender—a stark contrast to the violence he’d inflicted mere days before.
“There now,” he murmured, the silk brushing gently over your sensitive skin. “Clean and perfect, just as you should be.”
He pulled back slightly, red eyes focused intently on your flushed, tear-streaked face. A faint smile curved his lips—not mocking, but somehow satisfied.
“Now, I think it’s time we addressed your hygiene, my dear,” Sebastian said, rising smoothly to his feet. “Even confined to this bed, a lady must remain presentable. We wouldn’t want your skin to become irritated or infected.”
Your heart quickened with immediate anxiety. The thought of being even more vulnerable, of his hands on your bare skin, filled you with panic and embarrassment. Your lips parted to object, but he silenced your hesitation with a gentle shake of his head.
“Relax,” he soothed softly, voice reassuring yet undeniably commanding. “You are in no position to argue. You must trust that I will be nothing but gentle.”
You bit your lip nervously, nodding weakly in submission. Sebastian smiled approvingly and moved gracefully to a small basin placed on a side table. You watched helplessly as he dipped a pristine cloth into warm, steaming water, wringing it out carefully. He turned back towards you, eyes calm, movements precise as he slowly approached once more.
Gently, he sat beside you, placing the basin carefully at his side. With meticulous care, he reached forward and unbuttoned the thin, sweat-dampened nightgown that clung uncomfortably to your body. You immediately flushed with humiliation, painfully aware of your exposed vulnerability.
Your injured limbs were bound and immobilized; there was no chance of shielding yourself, no possibility of modesty. You turned your face away, heat burning across your cheeks. Sebastian paused, noticing your shameful discomfort.
“My dear,” he said quietly, his tone tender yet firm. “There’s no need for such embarrassment. You have nothing I have not already seen. Your fragility is precisely what makes you beautiful.”
Your breath caught sharply in your throat. His words—softly delivered, strangely sincere. You didn’t want his praise, didn’t want his twisted affection.
Carefully, Sebastian drew the damp, warm cloth across your collarbone, wiping away the dried remnants of sweat and tears. His movements were painstakingly gentle, almost reverent, as though cleansing a priceless artifact. The soothing warmth seeped into your tired muscles, involuntarily drawing a soft sigh from your lips.
“You see?” Sebastian whispered, eyes never leaving your face as he slowly, methodically cleaned your neck and shoulders. “This isn’t so unpleasant, is it?”
You shook your head weakly, overwhelmed by conflicting emotions—fear, confusion, relief. His tenderness felt simultaneously terrifying and comforting, tearing at your already battered defenses.
Sebastian continued in silence, taking his time as he moved to cleanse your chest, carefully wiping around the bandages, ensuring not to disturb the delicate alignment of your broken limbs. He was gentle, thorough, and oddly clinical in his care, yet each motion seemed infused with an intense intimacy you could not deny.
After a long moment, Sebastian spoke again, his voice unusually quiet, as though confessing something deeply personal.
“Do you know, my dear, how incredibly rare it is for one such as myself to feel anything resembling affection? Especially towards a human. A human as fragile and delicate as you.”
You looked up at him, startled by his sudden confession. His crimson eyes locked with yours, filled with an intensity so deep it left you breathless.
“It should be impossible,” he continued softly, almost to himself, gently sliding the warm cloth down your side, his touch never faltering in its care. “Demons are creatures of darkness, beings designed purely for destruction, manipulation, and cruelty. Love—true, genuine affection—is foreign to our very nature.”
His eyes softened, tracing your features with visible fascination. The quiet confession sent a fresh wave of heat through your chest.
“And yet,” Sebastian murmured quietly, leaning closer, his voice like velvet against your skin, “I find myself inexplicably drawn to you. A human so painfully fragile, so impossibly delicate, it defies logic and reason. To love you is to challenge the very essence of my being. It is miraculous—a profound aberration of nature.”
Your heart raced uncontrollably, your face burning even hotter as Sebastian’s candid, almost reverent confession lingered between you. He continued his gentle cleansing, moving down your trembling stomach, around your hips, maintaining a quiet dignity even as you trembled beneath him in vulnerable embarrassment.
“The very first moment I saw you… I thought you were nothing more than a fragile curiosity. A delicate human, trembling on the edge of this cruel world. I had seen thousands like you—small, afraid, breakable. Yet you are different than the other humans I'd ever seen”
Sebastian paused momentarily, eyes thoughtful, expression strangely gentle.
“Your innocence was intoxicating. The softness in your voice... I could not stop watching you. You haunted me in ways no human ever had.”
He gazed intently into your eyes, sincerity unmistakable.
You watched him, speechless, emotions battling fiercely within your chest. He reached to gently stroke your cheek, eyes warm and compelling.
“This is why I took you, my dear. I watched you from the shadows—day after day, night after night. At first, I tried to keep my distance, convincing myself that you were simply another fleeting curiosity in a sea of mortal souls. But the longer I lingered, the more I realized… you had infected me with something I could not name. Fascination. Desire. Hunger—yes, but something softer, too. Something almost human.”
He leaned closer still, his lips brushing softly over your forehead, an almost reverent kiss.
“It is a miracle,” he repeated softly against your skin, “that a demon could love something so breakable without utterly destroying it. And yet here I am, fighting my very nature for the sake of your continued existence.”
You lay frozen beneath him, heart pounding furiously, overwhelmed by his twisted yet profound confession.
Sebastian straightened slightly, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he resumed cleansing you, his voice returning to its usual composed elegance.
He met your eyes once more, gaze intense and possessive, yet oddly reassuring.
“And I intend to cherish and protect that miracle for as long as I exist. Even if it means breaking you again, piece by piece, to keep you safely by my side. I think this called love.”
You shivered beneath him, uncertain whether his words terrified or comforted you, but undeniably drawn to the dangerous sincerity within his crimson gaze.
With quiet reverence, Sebastian finished cleansing your body, and gently began buttoning a fresh, delicate nightgown around your trembling frame.
“Now,” he whispered softly, a slight smile returning to his lips, “let’s see about ensuring you remain comfortable, shall we, my dear?”
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mattsundaes · 3 months ago
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dee… what do i have to do for more jva employee kuroo 🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️
jva employee kuroo tetsurou who's pioneering a program to get more young kids interested in volleyball. who drags msby around to visit local grade schools to hold assemblies where they teach kids how to play.
who hasn't played himself in years, but sometimes bokuto and atsumu cajole him well enough to loosen his tie and roll up the sleeves of his white button down shirt to join in on the demonstrations.
(who's still in shape, but his knees aren't as forgiving about meeting hard gymnasium floors anymore.)
kuroo, who's sweating and laughing and trying to catch his breath after a rally that had every eight-year-old in the room cheering as he accidentally spiked the ball right into atsumu's face. bokuto takes over as the kids excitedly line up for a receiving drill after.
and at the sound of a pair of footsteps approaching, kuroo looks up from the set of bleachers he's sitting on, fingers already reaching for the ice pack beside him as he anticipates atsumu's indignation. but it's not him—
"kuroo-san, right?"
kuroo stares up at you, heart suddenly jumping to life behind his ribcage with a renewed vigor, eyes roving from the teacher's nametag clipped to your dress to the soft, friendly smile that you're giving him.
he nods, wholly aware that he's probably coming off rude because he's just sitting there staring up at you dumbly. but for a man whose job it is to chat up strangers on the daily, his tight throat feels like it's at an impasse, tongue lost with no viable route to reconcile this instant attraction. there's no other word for it.
"it was really nice of you to come do this," you comment, sitting down next to him to watch bokuto play ringleader to a gaggle of laughing children.
kuroo almost closes his eyes on his first inhale of your perfume, tongue hitting the back of his teeth at the gentle, summery scent.
you're smiling at him again when he turns to look at you, and kuroo forgets every smooth line he's ever used in that moment, brain coming up woefully empty, hypnotized in a kaleidoscope painted in the floral pattern of your dress. the corner edges of his business card are sharp as he thumbs over the one in the pocket of the suit jacket sitting beside him, as he runs the tip of his finger over the raised edges of his cell number—
(as he wonders how inappropriate it would be to—)
"i always wanted to learn how to play," you sigh wistfully, your elbow on a knee of your crossed legs, chin in hand.
"it's never too late to learn." kuroo puts his chin in one of his hands as well, fingers meeting the hint of stubble making its way along his jaw. "i might know a guy, if you're interested."
you don't look away from him as you ask with amusement in your voice, "is it one of those two loud ones down there?"
he hears the sound of atsumu's voice, followed by a shrill whistle, and kuroo regrets letting him swipe the one from his office.
"do you want it to be?' he asks.
you tilt your head slightly, the corner of your mouth twitching. "is there a third option?"
kuroo acts like he's thinking it over for a moment before he sticks out his hand.
(and when you take his hand and shake it, kuroo can't be bothered to feel embarrassed about the stupidly boyish grin that spreads across his face.)
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alastor-x-reader-stories · 9 months ago
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Radio Dream - Alastor x Reader (platonic or romantic)
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"Do you think I can go into that Radio Tower?" you said
"Not unless you want to die again." Husk responded with a grunt.
"Why would you wanna go into dat thing anyway?" Angel said, leaning his cheek on one hand while the other held his drink.
You were sitting at the bar with Angel and Husk, just chatting about random insignificant drunk topics. Then your curiosity of the radio tower mounted on the hotel caught up to you. Leading to the conversation read not too long ago.
Alastor stood around the corner, just out of sight of the bar patrons. His ear flicked and his grin strained when you asked your foolish question, but Angel Dust's question had him pause before he could flay you.
Why did you? Sabotage? Vandalism? Just to be annoying-?
"I was just remembering how much I wanted to be radio show host when I was a little kid." You said in a sigh.
...Ooh?
"Oh? Really? Aren't ya... y'know, not ancient?" Angel said. He took a sip so you could respond. Husk was paying attention to you now as well, giving you a side-eye as he cleaned whatever glassware needed to be cleaned.
You sighed again, long and drawn out. There was a bit of dreaminess to your tone, a bit of longing. "Yeah, that's why I never really pursued it. My folks were like 'that's nice and all but that's going out of style and you can't make a living off of it, be more realistic.'" You snorted a bit in agitation at that, taking another slow sip of your drink. After a moment you continued.
"I used to have such a good time playing radio host. I'd sit in the living room or dining room, wherever people were, and make like a box fort or something with my cd player with me. I'd talk into a stick or spoon or whisk or something and talk about random topics or play music. Sometimes I'd 'take phone calls', which were mostly just me pretending to give myself a phone call." You chuckled "I would start a lot of 'drama' like that. Sometimes my family members would give suggestions and I'd play it up and play whatever song they asked. Assuming it was on one of the three CDs I was allowed to use."
"That's cute." Angel hummed "Other than the CDs and stuff, your show doesn't sound that much different from Alastor's."
Husk snorted "Nah, they're show sounds MUCH less annoying."
You barked out a laugh- clearly intoxicated "How dare you! I'm sure I could be a LOT more annoying!" You devolved into a hysterical giggle fit, your face hitting the bar counter in front of you.
"All right, I think you've had enough." Husk grunted, taking what was left of your drink from you.
"fair." You said into the counter.
The conversation carried on from there, and Alastor slinked away to his tower. He stood there a moment, his arms crossed behind his back as his eyes did a brief scan over the room.
When he was young, he did something similar. Granted it was a record player, not a see-dee or whatever you were rambling about. His mother would play along and encourage him, pretending to send letters in or be a guest on his show.
Hearing your story gave him a bit of a warm feeling in his chest. It was good knowing someone out there still appreciated the medium, even if it was likely unrealistic.
Well... Alastor supposed there was really no harm in it, assuming he was there to supervise...
A couple days later and Alastor trotted up to you, offering a tour of the radio tower.
For a brief moment, your eyes practically lit up - shining in delight. The expression did something to his chest, as it suddenly felt far too tight. But not in an...unpleasant way.
However, the next moment you looked downright terrified.
Not as pleasant. Not even funny. He had no idea why.
"Are you going to kill me or whatever?" You said, slowly taking a step back.
Alastor laughed "Not at all, my dear! I simply overheard your drunken conversation the other night and decided to indulge your childhood fantasy."
You snorted "Yeah I'm not selling you my soul for that."
Alastor waved you off, scoffing "Oh heavens, I wasn't asking for your soul." He gave you a bright grin- one that seemed less like a grin and more like a soft smile. "I simply ask you don't, how do people say now a days... 'wreck my shit'."
You giggled a bit into your palm. Apparently Alastor had said something funny.
"...Really? You'll just...let me look?"
"Certainly!" He put an arm across your shoulders, guiding you down the halls in the direction of his station. "Why it's been- unfortunately- quite some time since I heard such a passionate speech for the radio!"
Your face flushed a bright red "Well, hold on, it wasn't a 'speech'-"
"Nope! More like a couple sentences. But you know how it is," He used his free hand to do a jazzy motion "In show-business!"
You snorted "Mmm.... I guess so. Though, really, i've never been a very 'show business' kind of person."
"Nonsense! Once you have it, my dear, you never truly lose it. It just needs a little spark and then you'll have the flames all over again!"
"Are we talking about showmanship or arson?"
"Why not both!"
You laughed. His chest did that pleasant squeeze again. Maybe he'll allow you to sit in on a broadcast one of these days....Well, that was a future question.
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Hi it's me the writer. I actually did the things that the reader talked about in this. It was a lot of fun for me and my attention-hungry existence. My parents didn't really dissuade me from it though. But. Uh. I think it was more like a 'entertain the child's whims' kind of thought. Which was fair, because I didn't exactly pursue that long. Though I still had fun playing it and figured i'd write something short about it. The three CDs I used were "Wicked", "Pokemon", and "The Shrek Soundtrack". Favorite songs to play from them, in order "No Good Deed", "The Pokemon Rap", and "Accidentally in Love" That info isn't important to anyone but me so i shared it anyway lol.
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seoulzie · 1 year ago
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morning desire
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WHEREIN: what was supposed to be a nice sleep-in with yeonjun turns into something more MDNI
彡 pairing: yeonjun x f!reader 彡 genre: suggestive borderline smut 彡 warnings: pet names (pretty) making out, breast groping?? mature themes
SEUL SPEAKS! i start writing smut and suddenly i cant stop
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yeonjun woke with the soft light of morning filtering through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over your sleeping form beside him. the rise and fall of your chest in peaceful slumber drew his attention, and he couldn’t help but admire every detail of your face.
his gaze lingered on your plump, slightly chapped lips, remembering the taste of them from last night’s goodnight kiss. your long lashes cast delicate shadows on your cheeks, and your skin, even in the soft light, looked so smooth and inviting.
as he traced the curve of your jaw with his eyes, thoughts of you began to stir something deeper within him. his admiration turned into a quiet desire, a hunger that grew as he imagined waking you up in the most intimate of ways. the dream he had before waking up only fueled his longing.
just as he was lost in these thoughts, you began to stir, your eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze. there was a moment of shared silence, the air thick with unspoken desires and the intimacy of being so close.
"good morning, pretty," yeonjun whispered, his voice husky with morning warmth. his fingers brushed lightly over your cheek, a gentle caress that sent shivers down your spine.
you smiled sleepily, the corners of your lips turning up as you leaned into his touch. "morning," you murmured back, your voice still heavy with sleep but tinged with a playful edge.
yeonjun's gaze softened as he looked at you, his thumb tracing your lower lip slowly. "you know, you look even more beautiful when you're sleeping," he admitted, his tone low.
a blush crept up your cheeks at his words, but there was a playful glint in your eyes as you responded, "flattery early in the morning? what do you want, yeonjun?"
"i dreamt of your legs wrapped around my waist."
you met his gaze boldly. "did you now?" you teased, your voice laced with anticipation.
his hand trailed up your side, fingers dancing lightly over the fabric of your shirt. "maybe i just want to kiss my beautiful partner good morning," he replied, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.
the air between you thickened with unspoken longing, the anticipation building as you both leaned in simultaneously. your lips met in a tender kiss that spoke of lazy mornings and shared affection, the sweetness of it lingering between you. yeonjun’s lips were warm and inviting, his breath mingling with yours as you deepened the kiss, tongues dancing in a sensual rhythm.
but as the kiss deepened, so did the hunger that simmered beneath the surface. yeonjun’s hands moved with purpose now, trailing down your back in slow, deliberate strokes that sent tingles down your spine. his touch was electrifying.
you straddled him, feeling the warmth of his body beneath you, hips rocking gently against his as you sought more of the closeness you craved. yeonjun groaned softly into the kiss, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss further. his lips moved hungrily against yours, a silent plea for more, as he explored every inch of your mouth that left you breathless.
your hands roamed over his shoulders and chest, fingers tracing the contours of his muscles, memorizing the feel of his skin against yours. the soft sounds of your combined breaths filled the room, mingling with whispered sighs of pleasure and the rustle of fabric as clothes were discarded in a hurried frenzy.
naked skin met naked skin, the heat between you rising with each touch. yeonjun’s lips left yours to explore the sensitive skin of your neck, trailing kisses down to your collarbone and back up again, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. his teeth grazed lightly against your sensitive spot, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from deep within your throat.
when his lips finally met the sensitive skin of your breasts, you gasped and arched your back, fingers threading through his hair as he suckled gently, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. your breath caught in your throat as he worshipped you with his mouth, tongue flicking over hardened peaks, alternating between gentle teasing and firm suckling that left you aching for more.
you moaned softly, arching into him, feeling the urgency in his touch. his kisses trailed lower, down to your chest and stomach, leaving a trail of wet heat that made you tremble with anticipation.
time seemed to melt away as you lost yourselves in each other, the room filled with the heady scent of desire and the soft sounds of your combined moans and sighs. yeonjun’s hands roamed over your body, memorizing every curve and dip, his touch setting your skin ablaze with need.
© 2024 seoulzie
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weirdgenetic-fuckup · 5 months ago
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Hiya 👋👋👋 can you do current James (I’m such a slut for him) x younger reader, where she mockingly calls him old man. She means no harm just joke but he is offended so in the evening he puts her into doggy and rails her till morning? Pretty please with the daddy kink and dirty talk???
A/n: I lost motivation for this at so many points but just kept writing and it's kinda short it was a good idea and I tried writing it so many times I NEED HIM TO FUCKING BREED ME PLEASE sorry that was freaky
Warnings: Smut, degrading, brat taming, daddy kink, spanking, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!
THE TITTIES
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There was a bathroom connected to yours and James's shared bedroom, it was big and fancy with all the finishing touches. Two sinks right next to each other, one for you and the other belonged to James.
James was already in their brushing his teeth, still in his day clothes. You came in, wearing only a shirt of his that covered you well enough.
You were already tired, you hadn't done much all day but it was getting late, you liked staying up and waiting for James to get home, eating together and then doing whatever.
James held up better than you with long days, you missed being a teenager and staying up until four. You were lucky to make it to one now.
James eyed you through the mirror as you stood beside him, hand moving slow as you began brushing your teeth. He chuckled softly and pulled his toothbrush out briefly to speak. "Tired?" He asked, mouth full. You gave a small nod and leaned your head on his shoulder.
Obviously this wasn't the first time you brushed your teeth with him, this wasn't your first time you heard him gagging on his toothbrush. You giggled softly and he glanced down at you, giving you a gentle nudge. "What's so funny?"
You shook your head and pulled away from him, letting him spit in the sink. "You do that thing." You said through garbles.
He raised a brow at you cartoonishly, his stupid little faces always made you smile. "What thing?"
"The dad thing." You said, spitting in your sink. "Where you, like, choke on your toothbrush every few seconds." He blinked at you, hating himself for not realizing sooner.
"That's terrible." He muttered, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He continued brushing his teeth and paused when he made the noise again, his shoulders bouncing as he silently chuckled at himself.
It got worse every time, he did his best to not do it but it wasn't intentional in the first place so he just kept laughing and so did you until you finally managed to finish brushing your teeth and rinse your mouth.
"I hate you." James mumbled, shaking his head at you. "Had to point it out, did you?" You nodded smiling widely as he wrapped himself around you, resting his head on your shoulder while walking back to the bedroom.
"You're getting old." You teased.
He stopped immediately in his tracks, stopping you with him. "Old?" He asked, turning you to face him.
You chuckled and nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck. "You're gagging on your toothbrush, James." You said, still giggling. "And you make dad noises when you stand up or sit down... you're an old man."
He stared down at you, eyes flickering over your face almost offendedly. "Old man my ass." He huffed, pulling away from you and heading to the closet to get some clothes for the night.
You watched him go, raising a brow at him but shrugging it off as nothing and crawling into bed. You got all nice and cozy and watched as James stared into the mass of clothes, his hands on his hips, thinking about something.
He pulled his shirt off and you whistled, making him look at you with a less than amused expression. "What? Can't compliment my old man?"
James grimaced and looked back to the closet. "That makes me sound like your dad."
You chewed your cheek, he wasn't wrong. "Fine, I'll just call you my silver fox~" He scoffed, clearly upset. “Oh, come on, it’s not that deep.” You groaned.
“Somethings gonna be fucking deep soon.” He barked, shooting a glare at you. You paused, knowing if you pressed further he’d punish you… but you wanted to be punished.
“Not too fast, now, don’t want to pull a muscle.” In an instant he was on you, taking your legs in his hands and folding you in half. You loved when he manhandled you, forcing you into positions that strained you just a little but it made everything feel so much better. Not to mention how fucking hot he looked on top of you, tattoos and muscles, the lustful glare in his eyes.
You were already so wet and ready for him.
His lips travelled down your neck, biting and sucking on the sensitive skin. James pulled away a moment and look down at you before pulling away completely.
“Take them off.” He ordered, gesturing to his jeans. You sat up and reached for the zipper but he smacked your hand away. “With your teeth, you wanna act like a bitch I’ll treat you like one.”
A new wave of arousal washed over you and adjusted, getting on your hands and knees to pull the zipper down with your teeth. It was hard but you managed, as soon as they were open James grabbed the back of your head and pushed you into his pubes, forcing you to inhale him, which you did happily.
You looked up at him with lust filled eyes, begging for more. James stared down at you for a minute before letting go of your hair. "Turn around." He ordered.
You did just as he asked, spreading your legs and burying your face in a pillow, knowing the position he was trying to get you into. James's hand found your ass, rubbing it and spreading your plush cheeks. "So wet already, and I haven't even done anything yet." He mused, pushing his jeans down along with his boxers and kicking them off the bed.
You felt his already leaking tip rub against your wet folds, gathering your juices to use as lube so he could fuck you. Without warning he pushed into you, bottoming out with a low groan while you moaned under him.
While he was mad and wanted to punish you he had mercy and gave you a second to adjust to his girth. "Fucking bitch." He muttered, holding your hips, one hand rubbing circles into your skin. "Look where insults got you, bent over and begging for dick, but that's where you always end up, isn't it?" He raised the hand that was rubbing you and it came down hard on your ass. "Answer me, slut!"
"Yes! Love it here, love being daddy's little cocksleeve!" You moaned, wiggling your hips and pushing back against him.
James let out a low chuckled and leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear. "What an obedient little thing you are, why can't you be good all the time? Just have to go an be a brat, don't you?" He asked, his hand coming down again, making your ass sting.
"M'sorry, daddy." You didn't really mean it, you loved being a brat and you loved being punished, and of course James knew this.
"Liar." He muttered, hips snapping into yours. It started harsh but slow, gradually picking up the pace until he found a rhythm he liked, one that had you crying and begging for him to slow down, your body bouncing up and down on the mattress with each thrust.
Your head was sideways on the pillow so you could breathe and look back at James, the dark glint in his eyes as he watched you sucking him in for more, how eager your body was for him.
"Say it again." He demanded. "Apologize, and do it right this time."
You did your best to speak up between moans and whines. "I-m'sorry, daddy, m'so- ngh-! Fuck-ing sorry, m'sorry I called you old." James thought for a moment before deciding he didn't need any more apologies from you, you were pretty enough right here in front of him, giving in to his ever will, it wasn't needed.
His hand moved up from your hip to your back, pressing down on it and forcing you to arch into the mattress. It gave him the chance to adjust his position, forcing his dick impossibly deeper. Your eyes rolled back, already feeling yourself getting closer.
"Be a good slut and cum for daddy." He encouraged. You didn't fully trust it, not that you had a choice, his thrusts had you seeing stars, your gut tightening. He edged you for hours on end when he was pissy, but was never opposed to a little overstimulation. Maybe a lot.
It didn't take long for you get pushed over the edge, moaning out for him as you came. James didn't stop, he didn't slow, he kept the same mind numbing rhythm while you crumbled under him.
You looked back at him and saw a need in his eyes, a yearning. "Calls me an old man and... what did you expect I'd do?" He asked, smacking your ass again. "Gonna show you how an old man fucks you stupid, not gonna be walking for a month." He said through gritted teeth, emphasizing his words with each thrust.
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sp00kymulderr · 8 months ago
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it might be nice
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Dieter Bravo x f!reader
Warnings/Tags/Notes: 18+. FEELINGS. Angst. love. just...feelings. Mention of f receiving oral, reader is a not a us-citizen (visa stuff), commitment and intimacy issues all round, did I mentioned feelings? This just kinda started writing itself, i appreciate there isn't enough Dieter in it but it is what it is. Unedited, unbeta'd.
Words: 1.1k
Summary: It's more than enough. Having what you have with him now.
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"We could get married"
You look up from your book, drawn back from your far away to the sound of his voice. Dieter is looking at you expectantly.
Your eyes widen as you process the four words that just left his mouth.
"Dee, we…why would we…" You trail off, drawing your legs up and out of his lap, his thumb presses down on the arch of your foot once more before he lets it go.
The conversation had moved on hours ago. Over takeout you'd mentioned trepidation over being able to stay in the country, struggling with your visa and having no sponsorship since you couldn't seem to get a fucking job right now.
Dieter had listened, sympathised, and then eaten you out for dessert just to make you feel better about your situation.
It helped. He'd been pretty mediocre but extremely enthusiastic when you'd met, but now you'd taught him some tricks he knew just how to turn your mind off for a moment.
The conversation was finished the moment he put his mouth on you, or so you thought. He could help you pay for an extension but he wasn't influential or wealthy enough to sway the embassy into letting you stay longer.
"I'd bribe the fuck out of them if I could, you know that"
You did know that. You knew he'd do anything for you. He'd been saying it since the day he met you, once famous (more like infamous) movie star turned rehabilitated recluse with no one willing to be by his side until that day.
He'd met you in a Dennys, of all places. 3am waffles served to his lonely little corner booth because he found it hard to sleep these days, and he got hungry at random times. You took the late shifts because they paid the best, and you could be available in the day for calls from your agent that never came.
It hadn't been sexual at first. It hadn't been anything but a displaced, alone man and an exhausted, untethered waitress sitting in a booth and sharing free fries because chef made too many and they'd only go to waste. It had been whispered giggles, and sharing ridiculous Hollywood horror stories, and 'same time tomorrow' over and over again.
No one in LA had made you laugh. Not until you met him.
Dieter hadn't heard genuine laughter in years. Now he got to hear it every night.
Back in the now, you shake your head. He's being silly. He's trying to make you laugh again.
"Don't be stupid" You playfully shove his shoulder with your foot, but his face falls into a frown, and you feel a little crack in your heart at the sight. You watch as he stands, rubbing fingers across his forearm and muttering a little 'Stupid, yeah'. The tremor you feel inside you is nameless, and you will it to remain that way.
In the last six months of your knowing each other, there have been times when you've felt this same feeling. An ache at the thought that he could be anything other than happy. You'd long since left Dennys for the upward trajectory of the Cheesecake Factory but still when the late shift rolls around you feel a tug at your lips and a name on them, even when you'd seen him only hours before.
You're not an item, that's the thing. You're not a couple. Neither of you have ever said the words outright, no 'I want to be with you', 'I want to be yours'. Not to each other, at least.
It's more than enough. Having what you have with him now. It's enough, it's enough, it's enough. Enough that he will sit up all night long and read lines with you again and again and again. Enough that he tells you not to come over on his bad days but you do anyway, and hold him while he cries.
It's enough to be just this. Because more would only make it hurt more when he relapses, when you have to leave.
When you have to leave…
You close your book, set it down on the table that's strewn with pages for your latest audition. Last night he'd coached you through every single line, and then told you with passion just how perfect you were. You can hear him in the kitchen, and you know he's making himself a decaf latte with way too much caramel syrup and a dash of the kitkat sprinkles because that's what he always makes when he might be starting to crave something else.
That's how you know he wasn't making a joke. That's how you know your hurt his feelings. That and every look he's ever given you, every smile that lights up his eyes that's only been for you. That and the way his hands never stray far from you, always grounding himself with the touch of your skin to his.
"Dee…" You pad up to him slowly, watch as he tenses at your presence. Another prickle in your chest, you can't let him think you don't feel...what it is that you feel.
"Would it be so bad?" He asks without turning, the tinge of dejection in his tone making you reach out. "I'd treat you good, you know. We wouldn't even have to live together or anything…it can just be a way for you to stay. That's all. I didn't think it would be so bad for you"
God, you've had him right in your grasp this whole time. The two of you dancing around your feelings all because of fears you didn't even fully realise you had til now.
"I'd- I wouldn't even tell anyone you were my wife, if you didn't want me to. I wouldn't expect anything from it. I just…fuck,"
You turn him around with a pull to his arm, shake your head and bite back something hopeful and beautiful that inches up your throat,
"I don't want you to go"
Your arms are around his middle, a stifled sob as you bury your face against the soft, worn fabric of his favourite t-shirt - your favourite by extension because everything he loves you love too. He smells like him.
You breathe him in.
He smells like home.
You look up at him and smile. Not the pretty smile you give to casting agents - the one that makes you look perfect - but the big, happy, loving one he saw the very first night you two met in that Dennys at three in the morning on a random Tuesday. The one he gives you back is the same; he's smiled a thousand times on camera, in films and press appearances and award shows. No one else but you has ever seen this smile.
You take a deep breath. The crack in your heart starts in fusing back together.
"We could get married"
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sanshinely · 2 months ago
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LIPS | ATEEZ CHOI SAN
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LIPS
ateez choi san x fem!reader
trope »  established relationship fic, non-idol husband!san
genre »  angst, bittersweet romance, slice of life, slight smut
word count;  4,465 words estimated reading time » ~ 16-18  minutes (normal reading speed)
warnings » toxic relationship dynamics, emotional manipulation, mature themes, cheating, unprotected sex, possible triggers: heartbreak, anxiety, sadness.
The house was beautiful. Not too big, not too small. Clean white walls, wooden floors, a soft gray couch in the living room. Everything looks perfect from the outside. But inside, there was distance. You stood by the window in the kitchen, holding a mug of warm tea. Morning light painted your face, but your eyes looked far away.
Upstairs, footsteps echoed. Choi San came down, wearing a crisp white shirt. His hair was still a little wet from the shower. He walked past you without a word and opened the fridge.
“Good morning,” you said, your voice calm.
San grabbed a bottle of water before answering. “Morning.”
You watched him twist the cap off and drink slowly. “Do you want some toast?” you offered. He shook his head. “No. I have to go early today. There’s a meeting at nine.”
You nodded and took a sip of your tea. “You came home late last night.”
“I had work.”
“You didn’t text me.”
“I forgot. I was busy.”
You stared at the window again. The silence between you stretched. “San...” you started, but he was already putting on his coat. “Can we talk later?” you added quickly. San paused. “About what?”
“About us.”
He looked tired. “Is something wrong?” You gave a small laugh. Not happy—just tired. “I don’t know. It feels like... something is missing.” San didn’t respond at first. He stood by the door, adjusting his watch.
“I’m just tired these days,” he finally said. “It’s work. Life. Stress. We’ll be fine.”
“But we don’t talk anymore,” you said softly. “We sleep in the same bed, but I feel alone next to you.” “I’m doing my best, Y/N,” he said, not looking at you. “I’m trying to hold things together.”
“So am I,” you whispered. “But it feels like I’m the only one trying.” He opened the door. “Let’s talk later. I really have to go.”
Then he was gone.
You stood alone in the kitchen, the mug still warm in your hands. Outside, birds sang, and the sun rose higher. Inside, the house was still—and the silence felt louder than ever.
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The apartment was quiet. Dim light from the hallway touched the edge of the living room. The space was simple—just a sofa, a table, a small kitchen in the corner—but it felt safe, hidden, far from the real world.
Choi San sat on the edge of the sofa, checking his phone. No new messages from Y/N. He put it down with a sigh just as the door opened.
Soojin stepped inside, removing her coat slowly. “You’re early,” she said with a soft smile.
San looked up, and something in his expression softened. “I wanted to see you.” She walked over and sat beside him, close enough for their knees to touch. “Rough morning?” she asked.
He nodded. “It’s always rough when I leave home feeling... empty.” Soojin tilted her head. “You’re still sleeping in the same bed?” “Yes,” he said. “But we barely speak. I don’t even know what she’s thinking anymore.”
There was silence for a moment.
Soojin reached out and placed her hand over his. “You don’t have to explain, San. I understand.” He looked at her, really looked. Her eyes were warm, her presence familiar in a way that comforted him. “I don’t want to lie to her,” he whispered. “But when I’m with you, it’s the only time I feel... alive.”
Soojin’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Then don’t say anything. Just be here. With me.” San leaned closer, his hand brushing her cheek.
And then, slowly, their lips met.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t wild. It was quiet, intentional, full of things they couldn’t say out loud. San’s hand moved gently to her waist, and Soojin let her fingers slide behind his neck. The kiss deepened, slow and warm, the world outside fading until nothing else mattered but the space between them.
When they pulled away, they stayed close—foreheads touching, breathing the same air. “I wish things were different,” San murmured. “Me too,” Soojin whispered.
But neither of them moved.
Soojin gently reached out for San, her touch soft and careful. San flinched slightly, his breath catching. Her fingers felt different—more deliberate, more electrifying than anything he’d felt before. “Soojin…” San whispered, his voice caught in his throat. She smiled faintly at his reaction and began moving her hand with a slow to his cock, steady rhythm. There was warmth, a rising tension between them that made the moment feel heavy with anticipation.
“Ahh…” San sighed, his head tilting back. “That feels… really good…” Her movements became more intense, the rhythm more purposeful. San couldn’t hold back a deeper groan, overwhelmed by the sensation.
“Ugh… Soojin… don’t stop…” he bit his lip, trying to stifle the sounds threatening to escape. “Does this make you happy, San?” she whispered close to his ear, her voice dripping with playful charm. “Oh God, yes… So much…” he gasped. “Please, don’t stop…”
Soojin kept going, watching his expression carefully—every gasp, every tremble feeding her motivation.
“Ahh… Soojin… I’m… I’m almost—” San’s body was overwhelmed, every nerve lit up with sensation. “Let go, San,” she whispered. “Just let it all go.”
And he did—letting go of everything, giving in to the wave that crashed over him. A final, drawn-out sigh escaped his lips as his body tensed, then relaxed completely. “Soojin…” he murmured, still trying to catch his breath.
Soojin smiled, kissing him gently. “You were amazing, San.”
The weight of unspoken words hung heavy in the air as San lowered himself beside Soojin. The hotel room, once a temporary haven, now felt like a stage for a drama he couldn't control. He looked at her, her eyes shimmering with a mixture of vulnerability and desire. The guilt still lingered, a shadow in the corner of his mind, but the longing in his heart was undeniable..
He stared at her shoulder, pressing soft kisses along the smooth expanse of her skin. Each kiss was a silent apology, a desperate attempt to reconcile his actions with his conscience. He moved down her neck, his breath warm against her skin, the scent of her perfume filling his senses. He moved lower, his kisses tracing a path down her chest, lingering on the gentle curve of her breasts. He could feel her breath catch in her throat, her body arching slightly towards him.
He knew this was wrong. He knew he was betraying Y/N, breaking the promises he had made. But in that moment, surrounded by the warmth of Soojin’s skin and the intensity of his own desire, the guilt seemed to fade away. He continued his exploration, his kisses growing bolder, his hands tracing the contours of her body. He could feel her responding, her body surrendering to his touch, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
In that moment, he was lost in the sensation, lost in the warmth of her body, lost in the illusion of freedom and escape. He tried to push away the guilt, to silence the voice of his conscience, to convince himself that this was right, that this was what he wanted. But deep down, he knew the truth. He knew he was running away from his problems, seeking solace in the arms of another woman, only to return to the same mess, the same guilt, the same broken promises.
"San..." Soojin whispered, her voice barely audible, laced with a mixture of pleasure and a hint of desperation. He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. "Soojin," he murmured back, his voice thick with emotion. "Are you sure?" The question hung in the air, heavy with the weight of their situation. He needed to hear her say it, to have her confirm that this was what she wanted, that she was willing to cross this line with him.
Soojin tightened her grip on his back, her nails digging into his skin. She didn't answer verbally, but her body spoke volumes. Her hips arched against his, her breath coming faster, her eyes locking onto his with an intensity that burned away any remaining doubts. "Don't stop," she finally managed to say, her voice a strained whisper. "Please, San, don't stop."
Her words were like a release, a permission he had been desperately seeking. He moved faster, harder, driven by the shared urgency. He could feel her reaching the edge with him, her body trembling, her breath hitching in a sob. "Soojin..." he groaned, his voice raw with passion. He was on the brink himself, his senses overwhelmed by the feel of her, the scent of her, the sound of her voice.
He pushed harder, driven by the shared intensity. He felt her body convulse, her breath coming in a ragged gasp. He heard her cry out his name, a sound that resonates deep within his soul.
And then, released. They reached their climax They clung to each other, their bodies slick with sweat, their breathing ragged. The world seemed to spin, the sounds around them fading into a distant hum. They had reached the peak, crossed the line, and there was no turning back.
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You started to feel it. The change. It was small at first.
San used to text you all the time. Little updates about his day, a funny thing someone said, a photo of his lunch with a silly caption. But now, his messages came slower, shorter. Sometimes, he didn’t reply for hours. When he did, it was just: “Busy right now. Ttyl.” Or “Sorry, practice.”
You didn’t want to overthink. You told yourself he was just tired. Work was getting harder. Maybe he just needed space. But the little things added up. One night, you saw his phone light up. It was past midnight. He didn’t touch it right away—he waited until he thought you weren’t looking. Then he opened the message quickly, read it, and turned the screen off without replying.
You asked, softly, “Who was that?” He looked at you, then smiled too easily. “Just someone from the team. Nothing important.”
You nodded. But something inside you didn’t believe it.
He began coming home late. Sometimes he wouldn’t even text until after 10 PM. You stayed up waiting, eyes fixed on the door, stomach tight with worry. When he finally arrived, he would kiss your cheek and say, “Sorry, baby. Today was crazy.”
But his eyes… They didn’t look tired. They looked guilty.
Once, you hugged him and noticed a faint scent—one you didn’t recognize. It wasn’t yours. It wasn’t his usual cologne either. “You smell different,” you said, trying to sound casual.
“Do I?” he laughed. “Maybe it’s from the dance studio. We were all sweating like crazy.” You smiled back, but your heart felt heavy. You began noticing how he avoided certain topics. When you asked about his day, he only told you part of it. When you made plans for the weekend, he said, “I’ll check my schedule,” but never got back to you.
You remembered the way he used to touch you—soft, playful, full of love. But now, his touches felt distant. As if his body was there, but his mind wasn’t.
At night, you would lie beside him, listening to his breathing. And you wondered…
Was he really asleep? Or was he thinking about someone else? 
The fear started to grow inside you. Quiet, soft, like a whisper in the dark. But it was there. And you couldn’t ignore it anymore.
It was late again. You sat at the edge of the bed, your fingers nervously playing with the hem of your shirt.
The clock showed 12:47 AM. San had just come home—quiet, tired, distant. He didn't even kiss you this time. Just walked past you, mumbled a soft “I’ll shower,” and disappeared into the bathroom.
You waited.
When he came out, his hair was wet, his shirt clung slightly to his chest. He didn’t look at you. He just got into bed, pulled the blanket up to his chest, and turned his back.
You stared at him for a long time before finally whispering, “San?”
He didn’t answer. But you knew he was awake.
You tried again, voice shaking slightly. “Is there… something wrong between us?”
He stayed silent. Not even a breath out of place.
“I mean… if there’s something bothering you, you can tell me. Please,” you continued, trying your best to sound calm, even though your heart was breaking. “I’m your wife, San. I want to understand.”
Still no answer. Just silence. Cold, heavy, unbearable silence.
You blinked, eyes starting to sting.
“I miss you,” you said quietly. “Even when you’re right here beside me… it feels like you’re somewhere else.”
Somewhere else. Or maybe… with someone else.
You didn’t know where he went every night. You didn’t know who he texted. But deep down, your heart already guessed.
And that night, while you curled up beside a man who wouldn’t even hold you anymore… He closed his eyes.
Not because he was tired. But because his mind was full of Soojin. Her touch. Her skin. Her voice in his ear when he whispered lies to you.
And you? You laid there in silence, slowly drowning in the truth you didn’t want to admit.
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The restaurant was cozy, with soft lights and quiet music playing in the background. You chose this place because it felt special—a little escape from all the cold silence at home. San arrived on time, dressed sharp and smiling just like the husband you remembered once.
“Hey, babe,” he said, pulling out your chair. “You look beautiful.” You felt a small flutter in your chest. Maybe, just maybe, things could still be okay. “Thanks,” you smiled, sitting down. “You look nice too.” He reached across the table and took your hand. His touch was warm, familiar, but something in his eyes made you pause. “So... how’s work?” he asked, voice soft.
“It’s been busy. But I’m managing. You?” San nodded, but his eyes flickered away. “Same here. Lots of meetings. You know how it is.” You squeezed his hand, trying to hold onto this moment. “I miss this... us.” San looked at you, his smile flickering for a moment before settling back into place.
“Me too,” he said. “I’m sorry for... everything. I want to do better.” Your heart wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that this lunch was a fresh start. The waiter brought the food. You both ate quietly for a while, the soft clinking of cutlery filling the space. Then San leaned closer. “Remember that trip last year? When we got lost and ended up at that little beach?”
You laughed softly. “Yeah, you kept blaming the GPS.” He chuckled. “Yeah, but it was fun, right? Just us.” “Yeah,” you said, feeling the warmth grow inside you. “I wish we could go back to those days.” San’s smile faded just a bit. “Maybe we can. I’ll make it up to you.”
You wanted to ask more, to dig deeper, but the words got stuck in your throat. Instead, you nodded and smiled. For now, you’d hold on to this moment—even if you knew deep down, something was still wrong.
After finishing the grocery shopping, you were tired but relieved to finally head home. You unlocked the car and slid into the driver’s seat, sighing as you settled in. The bags were piled up on the passenger seat and the floor, the scent of fresh fruits and vegetables filling the car.
You glanced over at the dashboard — and that’s when you saw it.
A bright red lipstick lying right there, where San usually kept small things. You picked it up, turning it around in your hand. The color was bold, glossy. It wasn’t yours. “Whose is this?” you muttered, your voice low but sharp. You bit your lip, suddenly feeling the weight of the growing suspicion. “I’m pretty sure I don’t have this one,” you whispered, staring hard at the lipstick.
The door opened, and San stepped in, dropping his bags beside you. You looked at him, the lipstick still in your hand. “San... this isn’t mine, right?” He paused for a moment, avoiding your eyes. “Uh… maybe you forgot it before?” You shook your head slowly, heart pounding. “No, San. I don’t have this. Whose is it?”
San silenced for a moment. Dang, that belongs to Soojin. The woman he had an affair with.
You looked at San, waiting for him to explain. He finally spoke quietly, “It’s my mom’s lipstick. She left it in the car last time.”
You narrowed your eyes, heart racing. “THAT’S A LIE.” San’s face hardened. “No, I’m serious! Why would I lie about something like that?” You shook your head, voice trembling but loud. “BECAUSE I FOUND IT! IT’S NOT YOUR MOM’S LIPSTICK! YOU’RE HIDING SOMETHING FROM ME!” San clenched his fists. “WHY DO YOU ALWAYS ASSUME THE WORST? I CAN’T EVEN TALK TO YOU!”
You took a deep breath, trying to keep your anger in check — but it broke through. “YOU’RE NOT EVEN HERE ANYMORE, SAN! YOU COME HOME LATE, IGNORE ME, AND NOW THIS LIPSTICK? WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO THINK?”
San’s eyes darkened. “FINE! I CHEATED. WITH SOOJIN.”
Your body froze for a moment. Then rage exploded inside you like a storm. “YOU CHEATED? YOU BETRAYED ME? YOU SLEPT WITH ANOTHER WOMAN WHILE I WAS HERE WAITING FOR YOU, YOUR WIFE?! HOW DARE YOU!”
San tried to reach out, but you jerked your hand away. “DON’T TOUCH ME!”
You threw the car door open and slammed it shut with all your strength. The loud bang echoed through the parking lot. Your hands shook on the steering wheel. “I WANT TO GO HOME. ALONE.”
San said nothing, just watched you. You started the engine, your heart pounding so loud you thought it might burst. The cold wind hit your face as you drove away, leaving San behind with his secrets exposed.
--------------------------------------------------------
You couldn’t keep it inside anymore. The doubt, the hurt, the anger—it was all burning like a fire you had to put out.
So you called San. “We need to talk. Now.”
He didn’t answer at first, but then his voice came through, tired and quiet. “Okay. Where?” You picked a quiet café, somewhere you could be alone, somewhere you could face him without distractions.
When San arrived, you looked him straight in the eyes. “San, I want the truth. No more lies.” He swallowed hard, running a hand through his hair. “I know... I’m sorry.” You took a deep breath. “Why, San? Why did you do it?” His voice was low. “It’s complicated. I felt lost. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
You shook your head, tears pricking your eyes. “You didn’t mean to hurt me, but you did. Every time you come home late. Every time you lie.” He looked at you, pain clear on his face. “I was scared. Scared of losing you, but also scared of myself.” You wanted to scream. “Then why didn’t you talk to me? Why did you run away with her?”
San’s eyes filled with tears. “Because I didn’t know how to face the truth. I thought... maybe it was easier this way.” You sat back, heart breaking. The man you loved was right in front of you, but it felt like a stranger.
“San, I don’t know if I can forgive this. But I need to know one thing—do you want us? Or do you want her?” He reached for your hand, trembling. “I want you. Always you.”
You didn’t know what the future held, but this moment was everything. The truth was out, and now it was time to decide what to do next.
One week has passed since your deep talk with San. Things between you two were slowly getting better. He seemed more present, and you almost believed things could work out.
But today, when you were tidying up, something caught your eye inside San’s wardrobe — a small envelope tucked behind his clothes.
Curious, you pulled it out and opened it. Inside was an ultrasound result.
Your heart stopped.
“Huh… whose is this?” you whispered, voice shaking. You looked down at the paper again. You and San had talked about trying for a baby, but you weren’t ready yet. You definitely hadn’t done any tests.
Could it be Soojin’s? Your mind raced.
“This can’t be real… Could she be pregnant?” you muttered, disbelief and fear rising fast. Your hands trembled as you held the paper tighter. You felt like everything was crashing again.
San just came home from work, tired and unaware of the storm waiting for him. You stood by the door, holding the ultrasound result tightly, your heart pounding. As soon as San stepped inside, you couldn’t hold back anymore. You raised your hand and slapped him hard across the face.
“SAN! WHAT AM I NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU? AM I NOT GOOD ENOUGH? NOT ENOUGH LOVE? NOT ENOUGH CARE?!”
San staggered, shocked by your words and the slap. 
“YOU ARE A MAN WHO BETRAYED ME, DESTROYED OUR MARRIAGE WITH YOUR OWN HANDS!”
San looked at you with pain and anger. “I NEVER WANTED THIS TO HAPPEN, OKAY?! I DIDN’T PLAN ANY OF THIS!”
You stared at him, voice shaking but loud. “THEN TELL ME! WHOSE BABY IS THIS? IS IT SOOJIN’S?”
San clenched his fists, shouting back, “I’M SORRY! I WAS LOST! I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT TO DO!”
“LOST? I’M THE ONE WHO’S LOST NOW! I’M THE ONE WHO GOT LIED TO! I’M THE ONE WHO’S HURTING!” you screamed, tears falling down.
Your voices filled the room, anger and pain crashing like thunder.
“I THOUGHT WE COULD FIX THIS, BUT YOU CHOSE HER!” you yelled.
San’s face twisted with guilt. “IT’S NOT ABOUT CHOOSING! I WAS CONFUSED!”
You stood there, chest tight, heart breaking. The hope you had was crashing down like broken glass.
------------------------------------------------------
The house was quiet after the storm. You sat alone on the couch, still feeling the weight of what happened. San was in the other room, somewhere between regret and confusion. You didn’t know what to say.
“San...” you finally said, your voice soft.
He looked up, tired eyes meeting yours. 
“We need to decide. Can we fix this? Or is it over?”
San sighed, running his hand through his hair.
“I don’t want to lose you. But I don’t know how to make this right.”
You nodded slowly. “I want to try... but it’s not easy.” Tears welled in your eyes. “Trust is broken. And the pain is deep.” He reached for your hand. “I’ll do whatever it takes. I’m sorry.” You looked at him, feeling the love and the hurt in the same breath.
“Maybe we need time. To heal. To think.” San squeezed your hand gently. “I’m here. Whenever you’re ready.” You both knew the road ahead would be hard. But for now, you chose to hold on—to hope, to love, or maybe to goodbye.
The courtroom was quiet and cold. You sat across from San, the judge reading the final papers. “Do you both agree to the divorce?” the judge asked. You looked at San, feeling a mix of sadness and relief.
“Yes,” you said softly.
San nodded, voice low, “Yes.”
After the judge signed the papers, reality hit hard. You turned to San. “I never thought it would end like this.” San looked down, pain in his eyes. “Me too. I’m sorry for everything.”
You took a deep breath. “I loved you. But sometimes love isn’t enough.” San reached out his hand, hesitated, then let it fall. “We both made mistakes. But I hope you find happiness.”
Tears filled your eyes. “I hope you do too.” You stood up, ready to leave. San whispered, “Goodbye, Y/N.” You paused, then said, “Goodbye, San.”
Outside, the world felt bigger, emptier. You both walked separate ways, carrying memories and wounds.
Years passed.
You became a famous painter. Your art showed your pain, your hope, your strength. San was alone too. He left Soojin long ago and lived a quiet life. One night, by chance, you met again at a small gallery.
Neither planned it.
You talked, memories flooding back. The night was calm. Suddenly, San looked at you and leaned in. Your lips met in a soft, unexpected kiss.
For a moment, everything stopped.
No past, no pain — just that one kiss.
You pulled away, smiling sadly. “Maybe some stories don’t end,” you said.
San nodded, eyes full of meaning.
And then, you walked away — two souls forever linked by love and loss.
It was a Crazier Lips.
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thank u for ur time & for reading this fic!
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robolvrr · 8 months ago
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Tf1 D-16 and Tf1 Megatron with a femme cybertronian reader that was his idol (and crush) in Iacon? Readers like let’s just say a queen in Iacon👍 Thank you!
phoenix, sing your song! ✧⁠*๑ 🎤
d-16/megatron x femme!cybertronian idol.
gladly! took some liberties. mild suggestive under the cut.
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d-16
"heh heh. does dee have a crush?"
"wh— you know what pax. i'm not even gonna entertain that question with a response."
"lotta words for 'yes i wanna smooch on phoenix's tailpipes' -- whoof, OW!"
you know how d-16 worships his idols. which there aren't many but entertainment culture is actually very encouraged in iacon. except for the cogged, this is simply as it's stated -- enrichment. for the cogless? it's escapism and a source of motivation.
there's sentinel prime, of course. and megatronus, though the whole mining barracks knows that. however... there is also you. phoenix, sweetest vocals this side of the planet.
jazz was actually the one who got him into your music. orion isn't the only mech that frequently sneaks up to indulge in city life. he's just the one that usually gets caught and brags about it.
jazz managed to drag him to the farthest, farthest corner of an open venue for one of your shows. had to climb buildings and balance on a ledge just to view from above the concert space and the thousand of mechs crowded below. you're cogged and while he really doesn't pay too much mind to them outside of when the race occurs, he thinks you're... very, very pleasant to look like.
you got ruby plating and your chrome is sparkling.
there's lightning gold accents trim at your door-panel wings and your eyes look a lot like his. hazy, orange and bright with an energy he wants to cup in his servos.
entire time you sing your spark out he's sitting still. (actually, he's vibrating.) jazz has a lazy smile on his dermas and asks him if he wants to score some merch once the guards clear out.
after that evening? he shuffles his megatronus posters and stickers around his humble locker and plasters your face there in the space near his mirror. almost looks like you're smiling at him.
at first he tried his best to learn more about you. jazz jokes that he's accidentally created some superfan monster.
like, did you know that you were actually originally an bellhop? he can't imagine you fluttering after mechs with their luggage, but once upon a time you did.
there was a club in the hotel you worked in - angellite.
past bio and autobiodatas tell about how you worked your way up through the ranks before finally scoring a spot to getting to a microphone.
the rest? history.
so you're pretty, talented, pretty, hardworking -- did he mention pretty too?
jazz doesn't always accompany but d-16 starts to sneak out frequently when he isn't buried in work to any and every event he can.
meet and greet? you can bet he used all his rations to bribe a mech to bribe another mech to bribe the announcer to get his questions up to you.
there isn't an action, though he takes the "prime gossip" catalogues not as seriously, he isn't aware of regarding you.
"this one's out to the brave miners who keep this city living. half proceeds will be going to better recharge and work conditions and equipment. i love you iacon!"
that show had caused a lot of drama. he thought your unmoving support and genuine want to connect with all of your fans for the better of the city to be super inspiring.
there's rumors of you visiting the mines, shortly before the iacon 5000. he will call a million cycles off if it meant getting to see you, not yearning through pictures and recordings and miles of distance.
hums your songs under his breath when he works.
orion does not shut up about it. he enjoys your music too but mostly is happy d-16 is happy. though he does joke that he clearly has a type.
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megatron
"no more hiding. no more deceit. stand with me, or fall with everything!"
you recall the fall of iacon with stunned melancholy. there isn't the time of forever to process what went down that fatal day.
the support meet in the mining sectors had been cancelled after the race. you were just as inspired by the rowdy pair that had flung themselves into the danger of an event that was never built for them to participate.
it hurt, to hear they had passed away. sentinel had given a grand speech and his condolences even while on the surface.
he had his loyal femme reach out personally. airachnid coldly informed that the death of the miners had momentarily halted the energon collection.
you were rigid when she suggested you perform. a modest showing of mourning, personally scribed to the miners and their fellow workers.
"this should motivate them", she had whispered. ""it's what they would have wanted."
what a nuke in your lap to find out quickly that had been a lie. all of it had. and you felt sick.
had any of your income, any of your efforts, even gone to your largest supporters? had you just been showboated around to be a. shiny little dream? keep the common mech in wanting?
before you could even figure out how to react, a silver mech towered over many and ripped the very thorn from your side clean in half.
his coolant sprayed all over. you had never seen a mech... die before. and sentinel was far from just that. he may have been a false one, but he was a prime.
you fixed your optics and zoomed in. megatron, the beast has yelled. megatron is my name.
then the buildings started to crash. the city crumbled as chaos threatened to envelop it. you had damaged your pedes and tangled your legs in rubble but even your own pain is not loud enough to pierce through the frightened masses. you're scared and angry and confused.
when the dust settles, you can't even vent yourself to comfort. larger arms yank your mangled chassis free and suddenly you're flying, shrieking as dozens follow. you watch iacon get smaller and smaller and when you finally stop twitching, weakly gaze at the head of formation.
a oiled tank, bursting through rock like pit on wheels.
your processors offline after that. you just recall floating, smoky oil and rage.
d-16
"the queen of iacon. that sounds nice."
i like to think that miners in particular rarely have the time to blow off too much steam. seriously. the captains and proctors make sure they work every klik of their shifts.
during recharge? well, that's a different story. the barracks are intimate but most don't actually worry about being a prude.
d-16 is constantly stressed. orion is on his hip nearly all the time so he enjoys slipping away to the shower stalls in his lonesome after grueling mining and just.. sit.
when he sits, his processors wander.
lately? they like to circle around you. you're not like sentinel prime or megatronus. you are tangible. he gets closer and closer to your radiance the more bold he gets.
his crush is wholesome and if not somewhat obsessive. like a hyperfixation. he doesn't mean to stare at your figures but you're just so cute.
your voice is a powerhouse too. he has wondered after quiet, whiny moments if your praise is just as poetic.
loves, loves your frame. it's flawless. jealousy doesn't grip his spark like it occasionally does weaving through the crowded city during daylight. he has to dunk his head in hot oil when he thinks about that lethargic grin and your helm speckled in rock and dust at his side.
has made one, deleted ahem... tribute video to you.
megatron
"go on. sing, songbird."
you were taken insurrection day by one of the seekers nearly torn apart.
much of your memory bank was corrupted. at least, that is what the doctor told you.
you aren't very trusting of his words. his attention is an extension of his master's, which leaves little time for you to plan escapes or hide from the inevitable.
megatron has been emptied, carved up and resurrected as a troubled, stubborn force of nature. he clearly is able to sift positive bonds aside as the sticky, hot upset he's toiled with overpowers them all.
however, you and him? never ended in bad terms. and that is the problem.
you're alarmed to learn he was the very miner that was pronounced dead to all of iacon. he speaks low and measured and you try your best to read him, because he's on the precipice of snapping what seems to be all the time.
the base of the newly birthed decepticons is quiet. you don't belong. the brand on your chassis doesn't belong.
he's still clinging to you. behind the heavy-duty doors of his berth, he tosses and turns in his rest, plagued with his actions.
his servos barely pleasure. though you sit heavy on his glossa as he lets those weapons of destruction give him a moments peace.
megatron isn't as manipulative and conniving as he comes to be later down the road. he still visits you though and you begin to feel guilty.
if you plan on being affectionate to gain your freedom it's a mistake.
suddenly, you're thrust into his arms. he scratches your paint. he's saying nasty, awful prayers in your audials and squeezing every saccharine lilt hungry.
"keep going... keep. hn. singing."
robolvrr 2024.
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elliezlils11utt · 1 year ago
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Sorority girl!reader x dealer!ellie
Summary: your crush Ellie walks in on you reapplying lipstick. Alcohol makes u a bit bold & you’ve been at a party drinking. What could go wrong?
Contents: nsfw !! Dom fem!Reader, reader is a sorority girl, marking kink kinda, oral (e receiving !)
Tw: uh weed mention, smut, reader is buzzed.
proofread?: take a guess (please hmu if you wanna proofread my fics bc I need someone to desperately 🙏🏽)
A/n: this sucks fucking ass, and probably is super inaccurate to how actual frat parters r but that’s irrelevant. PLEASE SEND ME REQUESTS.😔
Your arms were thrown up into the air, your hips swaying with the motion of the music. The room was hazy and the lights were flashing while your heart pounded with the base of the song.
One of your frat boy friends (Jesse) invited you to a party his fraternity was hosting this weekend. You and your girlfriends rolled up decked head to toe in glitter & Mini skirts.
“Her dee!” You call into the crowd, hoping your friend Dina could hear you over the loud ass speakers. She seems too busy eating jesses face off next to you. You call her name again and finally grab her attention. “I’m going to fix my makeup!” You scream over the music. Dina seems to buzzed to even understand so she just mumbled Somthing and nods before returning to suck her boyfriends face off. You roll your eyes and giggle a little. You make your way through the crowd bumping into people with sleared apologizes along the way.
You take a swig out of the red solo cup in hand before spotting a familiar face in the corner. It was Ellie. Ellie fucking Williams. Your hallway crush ever since you got into college. She was Dinas friend so you saw her around time to time, you just never got the courage to talk to her. She was the known drug dealer around campus so you curated a plan to speak to her today and maybe get her number. (If you were feeling brave) but your makeup came first. You had sweat it all off due to all the dancing and prancing around. You fumbled around the hall looking for the guest room in the overly huge frat house.
The door swings open and you stumble into the room, heading straight to the full body mirror in the corner of the room you sit directly in front of it. Crossing your legs and pulling your lipstick from inside your pocket. You smear the makeup onto your lips, touching up any spots you had missed. The door flys open again & you turn to see who it was. And lo and behold it was Ellie.
“Oh shit, uh sorry. I didn’t now you were in here” her eyes half lidded were shot red.
“It’s chill! I was actually jus about to go looking for you.”
“Oh really? What’s up?”
You stand up and make your way over to Ellie your eyes locking with hers.
“You’re cute” you mumble just a step away from her.
“Oh am I?” She teases & gets closer to you. Shutting the door behind her.
“Mhm.” You hum, an innocent smile tugging at your mouth.
“You’re not so bad yourself, sorority girl” she says, knowing damn well that you are the most gorgeous thing she’s ever laid eyes on. Her bottom lip is pulled in between her mouth. Her teeth tugging the plump skin that you wished was in your own. The tension builds when you could hear your own heartbeat in your throat. Waiting for her to make the first move.
“Fuck it” she murmured before pulling your lips onto her own. Smudging your lipstick all over her face as your so desperately assaulted her lips. Her hands cupped your cheeks, hungrily pulling you closer to you. A soft moan escapes your lips and into hers. You leave your mark down her neck, smearing your red lipstick throughout her collarbones. Your head lands right in front of her clothed cunt. That’s no good. Her jeans are pulled down to her ankles and your eyes find hers. Looking up at her with those doe eyes of yours. Those “innocent” eyes, face to face with her exposed pussy on display. That auburn bush so pretty for you. You kitten lick her pussy, finding her clit almost instantly. A little whimper escapes Ellie’s mouth. The music from the party just outside blaring through the thin walls. “Quiet baby” you coo before pushing your face into her auburn hair. Her hand finds your head when you tongue fuck into her clenching pussy. she tries to suppress her moans as your tongue works at her cunt. you watch as her head flings back, hitting the door behind her with a thud. you giggle before continuing your assault on her pretty little pussy. her hands tangle in your, once tied up, hair. she grinds against your face, completely covering ur face in her juices.
“fuckkkkk- just like that”
her breath starts to get frantic and uneven. her hand shoots up to her mouth quickly covering her moans as she screams into her palm. your arms wrap around her thighs pulling her onto u while she cums. you smirk into her pussy, drinking up her slick. you pull away, and look into her once auburn bush. um, your lipstick dyed it a deep red. actually everywhere your lips went were stained with your makeup. Ellie’s eyes flutter open, finally coming down from her high. you slide her pants back up after placing a final kiss on her clit. you rise meeting Ellie’s eyes. Her face & neck covered in marks of you. Lipstick smeared over her entire face, courtesy of u of course.
“I’d clean up before heading back out. call me.” you say with a wink before leaving her in the room alone.
A/n: this is so sloppy, I need a proofreader. ughbdjsnbdbPKEASE PLEASE PLEASE SEND ME REQUESTS, I WANNA WRITE BUT ION KNOW WHAT TO WRITEEEE. 😔🙏🏽
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fake-mouthstatic · 5 months ago
Text
valentine's day
@bucktommyfluffebruary, day 14. rated G.
💕
"Uh, hi, excuse me?"
Tommy pokes his head around the door of the chopper he's cleaning to see a delivery driver standing just inside the hangar door, holding the biggest bunch of roses Tommy has ever seen.
He smiles, wondering who'd lucked out with such a beautiful Valentine's bouquet.
"Someone's a lucky lady," he says, wiping his hands on a rag before heading over.
The guy looks down at the card.
"Tommy is, apparently. Tommy Kinard?"
read the rest under the cut or on ao3 // other days here
Tommy just stares at him, surprise freezing him to the spot.
"That's me," he says after a moment, voice thick with emotion.
The delivery guy grins at him.
"Someone's a lucky man."
Tommy laughs, feeling the tips of his ears turning pink.
"Yeah," he says, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, I really am."
He takes the flowers, inhaling the sharp, sweet scent as he thanks the driver and heads to the kitchen to find a vase.
"Wowza," Dee says, a smirk on her freckled face as Tim lets out an impressed whistle.
"Who's the lucky lady, huh?" he asks, gaze flitting between Dee and Captain Clarke before looking back at Tommy expectantly.
"I am," Tommy says, a bright grin breaking across his face. "They're from Evan."
"Damn, Kinard," Dee says, smiling as she punches him playfully on the shoulder. "You must be doing something right for him to send that many roses."
Tommy blushes again; no one had ever sent him flowers before and it makes him feel pleasantly warm all over, makes him feel cherished in a way that he hadn't felt in an awfully long time.
"Oh ho, you've got it baaaad," Tim says, smirking at him over his coffee mug. "That's a got it bad smile."
Tommy shrugs, still grinning as he brings the roses to his nose, smelling them again.
"Yeah, maybe."
"So when do we get to meet him?" Captain Clarke asks as she rummages in a cupboard, apparently looking for something. "You live together right, I feel like it's been long enough to introduce us all."
"You've already met him, haven't you?" Tommy asks, frowning. "When he came for the tour after the cruise ship thing?"
Captain Clarke turns so quickly she smacks her head on the cupboard door.
"Wait- ow, shit - it's the same Evan?" she asks, rubbing her forehead as she stares at him. "The human ball of sunshine that bounced around the place asking questions at a million miles an hour?"
"Do you know a lot of Evans?" Dee asks, smirking as Tim laughs.
"No, I just-" She shakes her head, smiles. "I'd kinda put him down as straight."
Tommy laughs as she turns back to the cupboard, carefully this time.
"Honestly, me too for a start-"
"Aha!" the captain cries triumphantly, turning with a vase in hand. "I knew we had one somewhere."
She passes it over.
"It's nice to see you so happy," she says, smiling sincerely.
Tommy smiles shyly back.
"Happy doesn't begin to cover it."
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siolixz · 8 months ago
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⋆。°✩ Of Love and Loyalty⋆。°✩
+18
Part 1
<Part 2><Part 3: final>
Pairings: Oz "The Penguin" Cobb x Reader
Reader takes Victor's place in this story. She and Oz have a difficult relationship- he clearly likes her and she is conflicted in her feelings towards him (Eve doesn't have a sexual relationship with Oz in this). While I am between chapters, I decided to write this. Life has been so busy lately- so I apologize. Everyone in this story is 18+ and consenting. I've listened to Lana while writing this sooooo
Enjoy and give feedback If you want :)
Warnings: mentions of violence, smut , gunplay (¬‿¬)
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After the death of your parents you were in a bad place, evidently. In a bad place, with the wrong type of people- stealing rims; trying to get by and scraping for food every day, life was miserable in Crown Point and it seemed like there was no way out.
 Not until he found you; shots firing by your head- he cornered you in the street- with a gun in your face. 
“P-please, please do-don’t.” all the words your stupid mouth could pronounce, he looked at you and he decided you were going to live- for the time being. 
This man, he was like a force of nature- so different, so strange. He was the most terrifying person you ever met in your life, from the way he carried himself to the way he dressed- you knew he was a mobster. Someone that the boys on the block, the ones that thought they were ‘tough’ and bullied people like you- people that needed help- could only ever dream of being like. 
Only in small glimpses could you see the man that was underneath; he was lonely, that much you knew- he was a man who dreamed of being respected, of being feared and loved, by all- maybe by you too, by the way you would catch him staring at you, the way he touched you sometimes- on your shoulder, on your hips- one time he brushed the hair out of your face, small acts of domestic kindness gave you glimpses into his desires, his wants and needs.  
“Where you from, kid?” He asked you about your life, he listened and he showed how kind he was, regarding your father and mother and your sister, for the first time since the traumatic event someone listened- everything, everything was taken from you.
He told you, “You have to be hard as nails, think on your feet.” He was right, people like you had to fight for the things they needed, the things they had to get in order to survive. He was like a mentor, you looked up to him, really- you did, but you were also scared, scared that one day you’re gonna do something wrong- say something wrong and he will put a bullet between your eyes before you know it. You couldn’t leave, if you did he was going to find you- the thought of that sent shivers down your spine.
As Robert told you about him leaving for California, you felt a rug being pulled from underneath you- he was the only thing tying you to your old life, the old you. The one who used to sneak into abandoned buildings with your friends; the one who ran home from school to meet up with him and your other friends to hang outside together- to enjoy life. 
“Why-why would you do that? Your whole life is here” you asked him. You and Robert enjoyed each other’s company, he kissed you a few times but that was all, he wasn’t your boyfriend, though you cared for each other.
“Not anymore” he told you “Our families are dead…we gotta care for ourselves now. Look at you, living in this nice apartment- it’s crazy he lets you stay here.” He looked around, almost not believing HE was here, let alone you. You told him that you do some paperwork for this club owner and he lets you stay in one of his spare apartments as payment, a good enough lie, he didn’t probe further. 
“Wh-when are you leaving?” you asked and as he told you that tomorrow night- you wanted to cry, beg him to stay.
“You could come with me” he grabbed your hands and leaned down to look at you “we could start over.” 
You looked at him and nodded “Robert, I-i’m not sure he…he will let me leave.” You took a deep breath. 
“Who? Your boss?” he asked.” Why would he care if you left? Does he-“ Robert took a pause, debating if he was going to ask you this or not “-does he ask for other things too?” You knew exactly what he was referring to. 
“N-no, nothing like that. Robert... this guy, he’s not just like a-a club owner.” you looked him in the eyes, trying to find a way to break this to him “He-he’s like…like a gangster.”
Robert’s eyes went wide “Then you definitely shouldn’t work for this guy. You need to leave.” He’s right, you did need to leave.
How is he gonna know? He’s too busy with Sofia to care for the moment, too concentrated on the new drug- this could be a way out- to get out of this city- for good this time. Leave all the pain in Gotham, start a new life.
 “The bus is leaving tomorrow night, 11pm, promise i’ll see you there?”
“Yes, promise.’ He gave you a quick kiss and left. 
After he came back home, he told you every detail he could think about. He seemed excited, that’s good. He told you he’s gonna need you tomorrow, he had a meeting with the Triads, apparently he forged an alliance with Sofia. Good, good for him, you were happy. Way too happy to see HIM happy, he was your captor- you shouldn't be happy for him.
Too bad you’re not gonna stick around to find out how the deal ends.
 While you were thinking of ways you could tell him about you disappearing while you waited in the Maserati- you were interrupted by a cop and you followed your ‘mentor’s’ words, “think on your feet”---he told you that evening that he was proud of you; as he smiled and grabbed your hand at the lunch you had to observe Luca’s wife at. 
This ‘intimacy’ he placed on you, he was going further and further every day. You didn’t want this, did you? Your stomach did a flip whenever he touched you or looked at you, maybe you wanted to be loved too, protected. 
Oz was also a charismatic man and pretty funny too, so what's not to like? Besides all the killing, he joked around with you and it seemed he enjoyed when you would give him a remark back, when you showed him you had it in you. 
You were leaving tomorrow, when he was gonna be busy at the club- his club. As he was talking to Sofia, he instructed you to be the supplier to the hookers giving the people in the club ‘Bliss’ that’s how he called it. 
His idea, you were sure.  You had to be dressed the part, in a tight white dress so short you couldn’t bend over at all in, your breasts barely covered by the material. 
Between trying to calm your nerves and trying to ignore the way Oz was looking you up and down like a starving man looking at a 3 course meal- this night was going to be hard to get through. 
But you already made a plan, when everyone was distracted, the girls with the customers and Oz with the Triads- you were going to escape. Out the back door and into the night- for a chance at a better life. 
As the evening went on the girls were becoming more and more demanding, people loved ‘Bliss’ and they sure loved you, when you came by- with the product in your purse they cheered for you; they knew your name, some even hit on you- but that’s not important.  
You had to “get your head in the game” like he would say, Oz, it felt so wrong to think like this but you felt bad, a part of you felt like you were gonna let him down- break his heart.
You weren’t ambitious like he taught you to be, you were a coward, afraid of a life like this, afraid of a life with him. 
He was always so full of confidence, of pride- you wanted him to be proud of you too.  Maybe he was going to be so happy he was gonna take the next step and kiss you, you didn’t want this, did you? This dangerous man, he killed people, he murdered them in cold blood and he liked it too.
He was also kind and funny and lonely, so lonely; you were lonely too, you could have a better life here in Gotham, as well- under his wing. 
You checked your phone “Bus is leaving in one hr, u coming?” Robert texted you.
Yes, yes of course you were coming, you had to get to the staff bathroom- upstairs, so you could leave his cash there; change into your old clothes- jeans and a t-shirt- blend into the crowd and leave. 
As Roxy called out your name and pulled you into the crowd, ‘to dance’ she yelled. You couldn’t look suspicious, play the part- play the part, you repeated in your head. 
“You two look like a match.” She yelled in your ear and smirked at you.
“Wh-who?” 
“You and the big boss” she grabbed your waist almost embracing you “Did you fuck him yet? Or are you saving yourself for marriage?” She giggled in your ear as she told you that.
“No.” You answered, clear as day. You saw the way they looked at you- back at Oz’s apartment, you just thought you looked different from them, they were all dressed so nice and you looked like you’ve been to hell and back, because you did- so that’s why they were whispering and giggling to themselves about. 
You told Roxy you had to go, said your goodbyes and you left immediately after. 
In the bathroom, you looked another time at your phone- “Bus is leaving in 30 min. Pls come.” Ok, you had to leav-
“Doll, we fucking did it! Triads are in.” The sound of the door being opened hard enough it almost fell off its hinges, made you immediately drop your phone near the sink ”Oh, it was sweet, you should’ve seen it. We gotta play it safe I mean I still got the Maronis on my ass.” he smiled at you, flashing his gold teeth and started to point his finger towards you.
“But you! Look at you, you fucking did it. I’m proud of you, so fucking proud of you!” He came closer to you and grabbed your face- cradling it, “I told Roxy to order some of that red wine you like- the good stuff, cmon!” He grabbed your upper arm and in the worst timing possible-your phone started ringing near the sink- you quickly turned around and closed it. 
“Give it to me-” He’s going to kill you. 
“Oz-”
“Now, GODDAMIT!” he yelled and you jumped. Your heart beating a thousand miles per hour, he couldn’t see what the texts were, he was going to go crazy. Now for sure, he was going to kill you. Great. You unlocked your phone and gave it to him, your knees felt like play doh.  
As he blinked and looked down at your phone, you could see him scroll through the messages. He looked up at you and you could swear you could see him think about what he was gonna say to you. This man- who was never quiet-was reduced to silence, for the first time since you met him.  God, this was a mistake, why did you want to leave, you didn’t want to leave him.
“We’re this fucking close and you wanna bail on me like that, for what? Some fucking guy who doesn’t care about you.” he said, brows furrowed. He didn’t know Robert, didn’t know if he cared about you or not, yet he is pretty sure he doesn’t- maybe he cares more than him. “With my fucking money, huh?” he asked, after looking at your purse and you. 
“N-no, I swear, it’s not-not about that.” You pleaded, hopefully he was gonna listen, please listen, you thought. 
“What did you have huh? Before I found you? Nothing.” He was right, you did have nothing “I gave you food, shelter, a job and I’m still not good enough for you-”
“Oz, n-no this isn't about that.” you pleaded.
“It sure as shit looks like it. You think you’re too good for this life. You wanna go? Whadya waitin’ for?” he moved his much larger body out of the way, so you could have a clear path towards the door “Fucking go.” He looked almost sad- desperate in a way.
“I-i can’t.” You couldn’t leave, he was going to kill you; he told you that- multiple times.
“The fuck, you think I’m holding you hostage or something? Like you’re my prisoner” Yes, you are. Maybe you liked it, maybe this whole ‘im gonna escape' thing was all a bluff, you wanted a life like this, it excited you, it made your heart race- like he did. 
He moved his hand beneath his jacket and before you knew it- he pointed his gun at you.
“Oz-oz, hey-“ you started
“What did you have, huh? Before I found you?” He slowly started to move towards you, gun shoved near your face. “Fucking nothing. You were nothing. I would kill for you- I gave you so much of what I had, you have all the opportunity in the fucking world.” He came close enough you could smell his cologne and the whiskey on his breath “But this” he pressed the gun next to your head “this is all you feel!” His voice was breaking. 
“N-no-“ you tried to find the words to change his demeanor. You almost started to cry, your heart fell to your ass and you wanted the ground to swallow you whole right now
“This is all you feel, huh? Being with me?”  He looked into your eyes, his own brown eyes were being illuminated by the bathroom you were in, almost reddish- showing the anger and disappointment he probably felt- you let him down. 
“What else did you tell him, huh?” He asked, once he removed the gun from your temple, as he trailed it down your body, from your neck to your belly. “That I’m in the mob... that I kill people, that you helped hide a fucking dead body?” 
He was so close to you, the way he pressed you against the wall- reminding you of the first time you met him. “That I wanna fuck you?” He whispered.
His question made your ears and cheeks flush with blood and your heartbeat start pounding even more- if that was even possible. His gun trailed even lower and you thought he stopped pointing it at you, until you felt the cold barrel of it on your leg- goosebumps appeared on your skin, he trailed it up and up until it gripped your tight dress from underneath. 
His pupils were blown wide and his breath was getting heavier. “Truth is, you always had a choice.” He moved the gun even higher and with the help of his hand your thongs were on full display in front of him, your dress on your waist.  
He moved his gun to the front of your panties, pressing against your pubic bone- you didn't want to look down and stare at the shameful display.  
“And you choose to stay.” As he moved the gun near the part of the thong that was covering your clit and moved it down there, you couldn’t help the moan that escaped you and you looked down, partially because this was so shameful and partly because you didn’t want him to see how turned on you were. 
As you opened your eyes when you looked down- you saw his boner in his pants and the gun he had pointed towards you and the way he held it- like he actually was going to shoot you. 
“I’m-I’m sorry.” You whispered, hoping this would be enough. Maybe you could move on- you didn’t mean it. 
“Look at me.” you reluctantly raised your head “This is what you want, this life- doing this...Don’t fucking lie to yourself. You want to be more than your parents, be someone.” He looked at your lips and then back up into your eyes, as you remained quiet he pressed the gun even harder against your clothed clit. 
“M-my parents would be ash-ashamed of me.” He pressed it even harder “please.”
“Please what? You have to use your words doll.” He gave you a glinted smile- he enjoyed this immensely, what a sick man. “Maybe I can give your little boyfriend a call, have my men go after him and put a bullet in his fucking head. “ 
“You wanna be nothing, great, you already are.” He moved his gun from the right hand to the left and replaced the cold barrel of the pistol with his fingers; the warmth of them was warmly greeted with your involuntary moan. He moved the gun right under your chin- you wanted to cry again, your eyes were closed. He was capable of anything. Don’t cry in front of him, don’t do it.  
He started tracing circles on your clit and as you opened your mouth to breath out a moan, he pressed his lips to yours- tongue touching your upper lip. You were scared, so fucking scared, all you felt since meeting him was this- attraction and fear. All of it led to this moment, a breaking point he reached once he thought you were gonna leave him.
“Open your mouth” he was mere inches away from your lips, he moved the gun next to your body again, pressing into you “open.”- you obeyed. The size of him alone pressing into you was almost suffocating. 
You tried to kiss back- in all your shocked state, truly, you tried. His touches on the most sensitive part of your body were becoming erratic, too busy with the fact he was kissing you. He left your clit and started groping your breasts, almost painfully, you gave him a groan of pleasure mixed with the uncomfortable feeling of having a man his size shove himself over you, touching you anywhere he could get his hands on. 
“You talk about leaving me but you’re so fucking wet.” a trail of saliva connected your mouths “You wanted this.” This wasn’t how you thought the night would end, with your boss on top of you. “Still think I’m wrong?” He removed himself from on top of you and grabbed your arm- putting you in front of the mirror, with him behind you; gun still in his hand.
You saw him pull himself out of his pants and shuddered, maybe in fear and maybe in lust too, this big scary man. Almost crying just because you wanted to leave him, you’ve only known him for a few weeks. 
You were holding yourself up on your hands and as he pulled your panties to the side and slowly entered you, you saw him close his eyes in pleasure and then look back down at the way you took him.
He pressed the palm of his hand on your back; so you leaned forward even more, giving him an eyeful of you and him.
You almost felt like screaming when he buried himself so deep into you the next second, you’re pretty sure you did. What if one of the girls came in? You’re pretty sure Oz wouldn’t give less of a fuck about that right now. 
“Ow fucckk..” he looked up and back down again before setting a pace that made your knees almost give out, thank God you were holding yourself up. He grabbed one of your legs and put them on the sink so he could bury himself even deeper. 
When you felt something cold once again on your head you knew he had the gun pointed again at you; your blood ran cold. “You wanted to leave me..I own you.. I fucking own you” He smacked your bum so hard you knew it would leave a mark; with his eyebrows furrowed and a slight smile he asked you “Tell me, who owns you?” he wants to humiliate you, you thought you had a choice; that you could leave, you never had a choice; never will.
You felt like your cheeks would light on fire by the embarrassment you felt, either way, you had to obey him.
“Y-you” you shamefully lowered your head; closing your eyes, God it felt good to be fucked like this, minus the gun, on second thought, maybe with the gun was better. This was sick.
“Didn’t fucking hear you!” he roughly grabbed your hair and pulled you flush against him, with one hand he held the gun under your chin, with the other he grabbed your breast and fucked you against the sink. You didn’t know what to grab- so one of your hands instinctively grabbed the one he had against your boob- to pull him away if he grabbed you as hard as he did before and with the other-you held the one that had the gun. 
He pressed his nose against your cheek, “Who owns this pussy too, huh?” he kissed the side of your face, he wasn’t going to stop, was he?
Not only were you getting fucked by a man decades older, he practically could do whatever he wanted with you; kill you, fuck you, make you beg for him.
 “You do.” You hated saying this and loved it at the same time- the way he felt inside you, his big hands on you, the same hands that killed so many people without so much as a second thought- this was too much.
“Jesus…you’re fucking drenched.” He wasn’t lying, besides the muffled sounds of music from outside- the only sound in the room was the one your bodies made and the occasional groan from him and your moans, only you two could hear them- at least you hoped. 
“I’m gonna cum…tell me you want me to cum.. tell me you want it inside.” Goosebumps appeared on your skin and your thighs started shaking a little, either by the size of him or in anticipation, you didn’t know.
“I want it, please.” you told him, at this point his face was buried in your neck and his pace was losing momentum so you pushed yourself up against him; again and again.
 “Please what? Please what?!” he asked while fucking you
 “I want you to cum in-inside.” This whole ordeal, it got you so spent up you felt tears in your eyes; he shoved himself as deep as he could inside of you, pushing your body next to the sink until it was painful and you felt the way his cock was pulsing inside of you. 
“You’re not going anywhere.” he kissed you on your cheek. “You’re not going anywhere.” he whispered again. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's note: Dude you fucked your own criminal kingpin boss?
Hope you liked the story, have a good day xoxomxxoxoxo
204 notes · View notes
goodlucktai · 2 months ago
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hold the world to its best (6/?)
rottmnt word count: 2k pairing: raph & OC title borrowed from light by sleeping at last part of the archer au
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The storm rolls in later than the forecast called for, starting in earnest the next afternoon. 
The first crack of thunder is so loud, even underground, that it makes everyone jump and Mikey almost fumbles the huge mixing bowl of eggs he’s whisking. It even startles SHELLDON awake from the nap he was taking in the charging dock in the corner. The string of beeps he lets out must be something pretty foul in binary, because Donnie whips around as quick as a snake. 
“Watch your language in front of the impressionable youth!” he yells after his kid, who makes a quick escape down the hall. 
Raph’s about to step into the line of fire for his robot nephew’s sake and point out the obvious—that none of them have half an idea what SHELLDON said, let alone the four-year-old among them—but Leo beats him to the punch.
“Uhhhhh speaking of the impressionable youth,” the slider says, “where’s George?”
“He’s right—oh,” Mikey stops short. His tiny spotted helper has vanished from where he had been parked on the stool pushed up to the counter. 
Mikey puts his bowl down and joins Leo in looking around, a frown tugging at his mouth. While he’s distracted, Leo swipes a chunk of bell pepper from his cutting board, which may or may not have been his endgame all along. 
“That’s so weird, he was here two seconds ago,” Mikey says.
Raph pushes back from the table and gets up to check the living room. A Jupiter Jim movie is playing on the projector, and Gio has revealed himself to be as much of a fan as the rest of his siblings are, but there are no little turtles sitting transfixed in front of the screen. 
“Not in here,” he reports back. 
“Stay calm, people, we have protocols in place for this,” Donnie says, tapping his bracer until it projects a holographic screen of color-coded GPS location pins. 
“Donald, you did not microchip that baby,” Mikey intones ominously. 
“Of course I didn’t. That would be unethical,” Donnie replies. He even rolls his eyes, because he has no sense of danger. “I implanted the chip in his nineteen-year-old self two days after he first moved in, like a reasonable person.”
Raph pinches the bridge of his beak and reminds himself to revisit this conversation later. For the hundredth time in their lives. 
“Can you find the kid or not, Dee?”
“Please, name literally one time my Genius Built methods have ever failed us in any capacity. Of course I can find him,” Donnie scoffs, only to frown at the big error symbol that pops up on the holoscreen a second later. “Ah. Update, due to certain magical interference, the tracker currently does not exist. I can’t find him.” 
“Great contribution, Tello,” Leo says, sounding like he’s fighting for his life to keep a straight face. “Maybe now we can just look for him with our eyes.”
Another rumble of thunder bullies into the conversation. The new lair is a repurposed subway station, closer to the surface than the old one had been, and this is the first time it’s stormed this hard since they moved in, so none of them were prepared for the magnitude of the sound. It reverberates through the tunnels and pipes, amplified by the metal and cement and hollow spaces. 
“He probably went after SHELLDON,” Raph reasons. “I’ll go find him. You two bozos stay put and help Mike finish making lunch.”
“Are you punishing them or me?” Mikey demands. Behind him Leo steals a cherry tomato off the cutting board, because he also has no sense of danger. Raph gets while the getting is good. 
Gio isn’t in the lab, where SHELLDON is buzzing around singing Speed Drive by Charli xcx to himself, or the bathroom. 
Anxiety begins to stir in the back of his heart, where it’s lived for as long as he can remember. It sleeps some of the time, but not as much as it used to. 
The steps leading up to the front door have been baby-gated to lengths of absurdity, part of Donnie’s manic lair-wide Georgie-proofing—so the odds of Gio making it past the stairs and into the dark maze-like tunnels in the handful of seconds someone wasn’t actively watching him are slim to none. 
It doesn’t stop Raph from worrying. He doesn’t want to shout Gio’s name, because he doesn’t want to do anything on purpose that would make that little boy’s eyes get big and fearful, but he can feel his steps getting more frantic with every room that he checks that comes up empty. 
The door to Gio’s room is ajar—it’s rarely ever closed—and Raph pokes his head in without expecting much. Baby Gio got an eyeful of it on the whirlwind tour Mikey took him on but didn’t seem particularly interested in exploring the space. 
It’s a comfortable room. Cozy, even, which is a style that a total stranger might be surprised to find out that Gio subscribes to, but absolutely no one who knows him needed longer than one second to conceptualize before they realized it made perfect sense. 
There are string lights draped across the ceiling, and a huge felt board that takes up half the length and height of the back wall, where photos and drawings and little mementos are pinned. A downy polka-dotted duvet swallows up the bed, and the curtains strung across the front-facing window, to block some of the light that beams in from the living areas, are polka-dotted for good measure—because if there’s one thing this family loves, it’s leaning into a bit. 
And it would be tidy if not for Gio’s little siblings leaving evidence behind of their constant comings and goings. Donnie’s Switch and wireless headphones have been tossed on the bed, and Leo’s guitar is balanced crookedly on the chair by the desk, and the desk itself is covered in the half-inked pages of a graphic novel Mikey is brainstorming. Even one of April’s college textbooks has ended up in here. 
Growing up, Raph never understood why all three little gremlins wanted to be in his room all the time—sprawled on his floor bickering over snacks, or cramming into his bed to make him watch two hour long video essays about any obscure topic under the sun—and then Raph got a big brother, and it all clicked. The huge pink beanbag that used to live in Raph’s room gravitated to the corner of Gio’s, where it ended up staying as a permanent fixture. Half the time Raph just lets himself in and flops into his designated seat, in the exact same way that Donnie and Mikey and Leo consistently get on his last nerve for doing. 
Gio, who thinks everything his siblings do is silly or charming or both, complains about it a lot less than Raph does. 
“Georgie?” he says, just in case there are any turtle toddlers lurking.
Of course no one answers, and he’s turning to leave and find another place to look, when he hears two separate sounds. A vicious growling bark of thunder that echoes down the tunnel, and a muffled whimper from much closer. 
Raph stops dead in his tracks. Now he’s listening for that second sound again specifically, straining to hear it, all his ninja senses and supersoldier senses and—most of all—biggest brother senses on high alert. 
He hears it, and follows it down onto his hands and knees to peer under the bed at where a tiny spotted turtle is hiding. 
Gio’s face is streaked with tears and he’s shuddering from head to toe, hands clamped over his ears, limbs all curled up like every frightened instinct in his body is urging him to go inside his shell. 
Feeling his heart break clean down the middle, Raph trips over himself to soothe, “Hey, hey, kiddo, it’s okay! Gio, what—”
Thunder rolls, and Gio flinches and makes another quiet sound of fear, and Raph realizes immediately what the situation is. He is also about two seconds from bodily lifting the bedframe and flinging it out of the way to better scoop Giorgio up. He has always, historically, hated any potential barrier between himself and his siblings with a single-minded fervor. He can’t even function when someone he loves is crying and he can’t reach them. 
He reigns in the impulse to charge forward. It takes both hands and considerable willpower. 
Running in recklessly always worked out when he was a child, because stakes were low and his brothers would follow him anywhere even if they fully believed his plan would fall apart as early as step one. 
But as he got older, and had to force the leadership reins into Leo’s unwilling hands, and that charming and reliable guy who was forever on Raph’s right hand side with a clever idea or an exit strategy suddenly became someone willing to let them all fail just to prove a point, Raphael learned the value of thinking things through. 
And he can’t just throw the bed out of the way, he reminds himself with gritted teeth, because that would scare the baby. 
So instead he settles on his plastron right there on the floor, cheek pressed to the rug, and starts to rumble deep and low in his chest. April calls it his car engine sound, and Donnie has correlated it with the healing frequency of a cat’s purr more than once. Guaranteed to comfort frightened little turtles or your money back. 
Sure enough, after a moment, Gio’s eyes peek open. He’s crying so hard he’s hiccupping, but other than that he’s barely made a peep. Until he manages to focus on Raph’s face, and then his sobs have a little voice behind them. 
“Hey, big man,” Raph soothes. “Raphie’s right here. Nothing bad is gonna happen while Raphie’s right here.” 
Gio doesn’t budge from where he’s wedged against the wall but he’s listening. He’s such a good kid, always listening. His limbs are curled so tight they must hurt, it would probably feel better for him to just pull inside his shell at this point, but for whatever reason he stays in a miserable little ball. 
“That storm is pretty loud, huh? Raph doesn’t like it either.” He reaches an arm under the bed, offering a hand. “But you know something? The best thing about being part of such a big family is that we keep each other safe. Even when it gets loud and scary and makes you wanna hide, you’ve got all of us here on your team.” Then, with a silly frown, he adds, “I’ll go wrestle that storm right out of the sky and make it say sorry for being such a bully and making my Georgie cry. How ‘bout that?”
Thunder rumbles again, and Gio jumps and shivers at the sound, but when he starts to squirm it’s forward, towards Raph’s open hand. He holds it with both of his much smaller ones, tears dripping from his chin, grip white-knuckled. 
Mouth wobbling, he bravely shakes his head. 
“No?” Raph says, playful and gentle in equal parts. “Okay, I’ll stay in here with you instead. Do you think I could fit under there? Scooch over a bit.”
Something that might one day grow up into a smile touches just the corners of Gio’s mouth. He shakes his head again. 
“Raphie’s too big,” he whispers. Raph scoffs in fake-offense and the almost smile on Gio’s face inches closer to the real thing. “We can go under the table,” he adds very earnestly. 
“That’s the best idea I’ve ever heard,” Raph says, down for literally anything that will make his babyfied older brother stop crying. “Come on over here, spots. We’ll go together.”
Some jangling, dislocated thing in Raph’s heart only settles when he’s got Gio in his arms, tiny, insubstantial thing that he is. He sits on the floor for an extra minute, rumbling extra loud, until Gio’s pulse slows its frantic leaping into something closer to its normal resting rate. The next time the storm tries to speak up where it isn’t wanted, Gio’s tucked safely under Raph’s chin absorbing his car engine sound and only shivers. 
Red catches Raph’s eye, a familiar hoodie hanging from the handle of the closet door. He’d given it to Gio months ago, when a cooking incident led to Gio’s jacket getting tossed into the wash, and Raph had said, “Here, you can borrow one of mine.”
He’d fished the old hoodie out of a basket of clean laundry and passed it over. It wasn’t anything to write home about, weathered and faded over the years, the hem stretched out and a corner of the hoodie pocket peeling away thanks to a loose string. 
But Gio looked stunned when he saw it. He took it from Raph’s hands robotically and pulled it over his head with a mumbled thank you. It was laughably big on Raph’s big brother, who would probably only have a few inches on the twins for a few more years.
Raph grinned and helped Gio roll up the sleeves, saying, “All my siblings steal this one from me constantly. Right of passage. Look, see? Perfect fit!”
“Yeah,” Gio said hoarsely, thumbing carefully at the frayed hem as if it was spun with gold. “Perfect fit.”
Since he seemed to like it so much, Raph let it keep mysteriously ending up in his room. And Raph reaches over for it now, tucking it in with his armful of Georgie as a makeshift toddler blanket before he finally pushes to his feet. 
“Sorry,” Gio says very quietly as they make their way back toward the light and laughter pouring out of the kitchen. “For hiding.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Raph says, startled. “Georgie, you got scared, that’s not your fault. Of course you hid, that’s what any smart little turtle would do. Mikey hides when the toaster pops too loud. And I get scared all the time.”
Gio clearly doesn’t believe him, frowning deeply. That stubborn face is one-hundred-percent their Gio.
“Raph’s too big and strong to be scared,” the spotted turtle retorts, as close as he’s likely to ever come to a more age-appropriate “nuh-uh!” 
“Hah,” Raph says, “I wish that was true.” He looks down at Gio and tells him, “The thing that always makes me feel brave is remembering that I have all of you guys with me. I have a thing I say that helps. Maybe you can try it next time you get scared. Just say I’m not alone.”
“I’m not alone,” Gio repeats obediently.
One day, Raph thinks, it’ll stick. 
Until then, they’ll keep reminding him. They’ll drag him out of the dark a hundred thousand times and lead him to a warmer, well-lit place, where his siblings will trip over themselves to put a smile on his face, even if that means eating frittatas on the floor under the kitchen table. 
Leo keeps stealing food from Mikey’s plate until finally Mikey snaps and goes in for the kill, and Donnie shrieks when they kick over the pitcher of lemonade because now he’s sticky and someone will be paying for it, and Splinter comes in to investigate the noise and takes in the scene playing out under the table and says, “Why are you like this? Who raised you?”
The rest of the storm passes the way storms always do. The next time thunder rumbles through the lair, Gio is too busy giggling to hear it. 
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