#he is fully aware of how he comes across and uses it to get away with whatever he wants

[bouquet-of-flow3rs]

Blood Lust

Chapter I

!Pairings: Vampire!Ot8!Straykids x Reader

Genre: Supernatural AU, Slow Burn, Angst, Future fluff, MDNI!

!TW!: Violence, thoughts of suicide, sexual assault, being chased, MC is cut by a knife, mentions of legs being broken, blackmail, non-consented pictures and videos. mentions of being choked, bruises, blood, toxic relationships, whipping, degrading names, MDNI. [Let me know if I missed anything!]

[A/n: Please read the prologue first it will make more sense lol]

Waking up the next morning feels like hell. Everything hurts from the bruises on your neck to the throbbing pain coming from your core, you’re not even sure if you can get up, your lower half especially hurting, and the feeling in your legs is numb but the ache that is settled in your bones reminds you of the pain you endured last night, all of this makes you think how you may need to call out of work but you know you can’t because you need the money if you’re ever going to even get close to escaping this hell hole.

You know that even if you do manage to get the money to leave Sungwoo would come up with some outrageous reason why you can’t, like the time he threatened to kill himself if you left just as he’s done many times before, and if he doesn’t try to guilt you then you know that he may try to hurt you or blackmail. You still remember what he did to you one of the last few times you've told him you were going to leave, he blackmailed you with nudes and videos he'd taken while he took advantage of you, you’re aware he has many of both your least favorite pictures he has of you are the ones where he's written degrading words across your body and the ones where he has you tied up in rough, scratchy ropes, but you hated the videos he has more than any photos he may have, many of said videos are close-ups on where he shoved his dick into you or where you’re sobbing and he believed your tears were ones of pleasure. When you told him you didn’t care and that he could go ahead and post them he stormed off to his room before returning and swinging a metal bat at your legs fracturing them, you vividly remember the guttural cries that left your throat as he repeatedly brought the bat down on you, you remember trying to crawl away from him using your forearms to drag yourself away and you recall the evil grin on his face when he dragged you back by the ankles turning you over so you were on your back and gripping onto the roots of your hair making your scalp burn in pain, “Sorry but you aren’t going anywhere.” You remember him spitting out at you before he quite literally spat on your face, tearing off your clothes unbuckling his belt and pulling down his jeans. You remember how after he was done he left you there in the entryway leaking his unwanted cum, legs broken, and bruises littered all over your body. Even just thinking back on that memory makes you feel ghost pains of what happened that day, you also remember how he never even bothered to bring you to the hospital so you ended up healing incorrectly. 

After finally getting off of your bed you slowly make your way to your dresser to pull out some clothes for work, you want to make sure you cover your bruises well enough, you struggle getting dressed thanks to the bruises on your ribs and the persistent ache of your body,  you carefully sift through your dresser and pull out a cream turtle-neck sweater, you slip your arms through the sleeves and pull it over your head albeit slowly and painfully, afterwards you open another drawer and grab out a black pencil skirt, this time you struggle much more to slip it on you can’t bend without feeling immense pressure all over your body but after a few moments you manage to slip it on, lastly you grab a pair of black tights and you have to sit down before you can put those on, once you’ve managed to fully cloth yourself you walk out of your room as quietly as possible so you don’t catch the attention Sungwoo, unfortunately for you he was waiting outside your room for you when you opened the door. You stand there stiff as you can praying he ignores you but that is far from what happens because he looks up from scrolling on his phone and stares at your stiff figure, he smiles at you in an unsettling way, slipping his phone into his pocket and approaching you, you stay perfectly still as he stands in front of you, “Good morning [Y/n].” He says his hand moving up towards your hair and stroking it, “Good morning Sungwoo.” You reply holding your breath as he threads his fingers through your hair, “You look nice.” He says a bite to his tone as he eyes you up and down, his tone and stare make you stiffen up even more, “I-it’s just my outfit for work.” You stutter out, he hums his fingers moving to the top of your head before tangling them into a tight grip making you wince, “Do me a favor [Y/n],” He drawls out, “Make sure to stay out late tonight, I’ll be bringing my girlfriend over tonight and I don’t need you here to ruin it.” He glares at you, his grip out your hair lifting your head and forcing you to look into his eyes, “Okay, I’ll ask to work overtime tonight.” You whisper, dropping your gaze to the ground. “Good girl.” He says finally letting go of your hair, you both stand there staring at the ground and he looks at you with a glint in his eyes, “Don’t you need to finish getting ready, wouldn’t want to be late again.” He says condescendingly, “Now go on.” He says smacking your check lightly but hard enough to sting before walking off. You stay there for a few more seconds trying to get yourself to move and when you finally feel like you can you dart towards the bathroom.

When you finally get there you make sure to lock the door and lean against it trying to stop yourself from hyperventilating, you screw your eyes tightly closed and clench and unclench your fists all while doing breathing exercises to try and calm yourself down, you can feel warm, salty tears escaping from your eyes and traveling down your cheeks, once you’ve calmed down enough you turn towards the mirror and gaze into your reflection. You take notice of your tangled hair,  bloodshot eyes, and the bruises that peek through the top of your turtle-neck. You sigh at your reflection and begin to heat up your curling iron and pull out your make-up bag, you begin with color correcting the bruising on your skin using various products to cover it up, you cover them all from your forehead to your neck making sure none of them are too visible, you know there is no way you’ll be able to perfectly cover them but you'll at least be satisfied if you can make them less noticeable. Once you’ve completed your makeup look you begin to separate your hair in two layers before curling the bottom layer and then moving on to the top layer.

You once again stare at your reflection, you can see how visibly tired you are, and the eyebags are still rather noticeable as well as your sunken face but at the very least you couldn’t see the bruises. After you’re finished getting ready you make your way to the front door continuing to try and avoid any more run-ins with Sungwoo for the morning but of course, you see him sitting at the dining room table in the dark staring intently at his bright phone, you try to sneak past him and to the door but h speaks up before you can grab your shoes from the rack, “Don’t forget what I said [Y/n] and don’t even think about trying to run away since you’ll be out late, you know what will happen if you do.” He says lifting his head to you with a sadistic grin on his face that makes you feel sick, “I won’t..” You manage to choke out trying your best to avoid looking at him, “Good girl.” He purrs out making you feel nauseous.

Finally being out of that apartment feels like a breath of fresh air, Sungwoo has made it very clear that you are not allowed out unless it’s for work or he’s with you, but that routine feels incredibly suffocating as if you are chained to him but you’re too afraid to free yourself so you can’t help but be a caged bird. 

You don’t have a car, so you usually take the train to get to work, but the walk to the station isn’t a short one. You look up to the sky and see it’s cloudy, you didn’t check the weather for the day but seeing as how it's beginning to approach winter that means there is a good chance it will be cold today, you feel the breeze push past you blowing your hair in different directions, you sigh and you can see your breathe as if it were smoke float up. Continuing on your walk you pass by many people, you see families walking with their young kids probably on their way to drop them off at school, you also see an older couple who are sitting on a wooden bench close to some shops as they are bundled up holding each other's hands, your heart clenches and you can’t help but wish that was you, and the one that tugs at your heart the most a girl around your age who is holding on tightly to who you can only assume is her boyfriend based on the way she is clinging to him as they giggle together at some private joke, god how you want that, to be genuinely treasured by someone, but you’re happy for all of those people because it means they won’t end up like you, a bird in a cage who longs to be set free. Finally reaching the train station you scan your travel pass and the gates open for you to pass through, you walk towards the train you take and wait for it to arrive as it’s running a bit behind today, while you wait you pull out your phone checking your notifications but as always there are none, ever since moving in with Sungwoo he made you delete everyone from your contact except for him and there was no number spared you weren’t even allowed to keep you family’s contacts or keep in touch with any friends that weren’t him, the only number allowed other than his was the floral shop you worked at but even that he monitors, he’s completely isolated you from everyone even going as far as to make it so your phones were connected and if you ever wanted to download any apps he would have to give permission. Boarding your train with many other passengers you quickly try and snag a seat but you are unsuccessful, you decide to hang onto the ceiling rails but you immediately sense the feeling of a pair of eyes on you making you uncomfortable, you carefully shift your eyes around the train cart trying to figure out who it is but you can’t seem to find this person until you hear the sound of a shuttering camera coming from behind you and you instantly spin around to find that sitting behind you is an old man who is staring very intently at his phone, “Excuse me sir-” You try to confront him and he glares up at you grunting “What.”, “Uhm, did you take a picture of me?” You attempt to ask but he cuts you off with a scoff, “Why would I do that, I can’t believe you’d say that!” he outrages, “I-I’m very sorry sir but I thought I heard your phone go off.” You try and reason but he begins yelling again catching the attention of other passengers on board, “Please, all you sluts are the same, you’re so desperate for male attention you go around accusing people of peeping on you when you’re a whore!” He shouts at you standing up from his seat, he’s a short, skinny old man whose hair is bald at the top, everyone on board is staring at the two of you and you begin to shrink in on yourself, “I’m very sorry sir that wasn’t what I was implying at all I was just-” You again try to apologize but he shouts once more, “No, I won’t hear your excuses you just want attention that you don’t care who it's from you slut!” He shames you, you aren’t sure how you should even react right now so you bow your head to the man before moving far away from him towards the back of the cart. 

As the train finally comes to a stop you can still feel people's eyes on you even after the incident that took place earlier has ended and you can hear the murmurs and whispers directed at you as people begin to stand up and pass you to get to the doors, you keep your head facing the floor as they all walk past you, you finally exit after everyone has left, simply because you couldn’t deal with everyone’s eyes on you as you walked past them. After exiting the station it was another 15 minutes to the Flower shop. You moved in with Sungwoo after high school and he didn’t want you to go to college back then you listened because you believed he liked you back and just didn’t know how to show it but now you know better and that he couldn’t care less about you and he only keeps you for his own entertainment, so when you decided you wanted to get a job just so you’d be able to leave the house more often it took you many failed interviews to finally land this job and you’ve been working here for many years lasting longer than most of the other employees since once they got better education they chose to leave while you stayed, you’ve never made friends with any of the people you’ve worked with, much to scared of what would happen if you did. You thought about this the entire way to the store and when you reached it you began to unlock the doors and turn on the neon ‘Open’ sign and do all of your other usual opening routines. The store’s name is ‘Velvet Petal’, not your idea but the owner is a sweet old lady who opened this store as a family business originally but when all her children moved away she began hiring and kept the original charm of when she first opened it. Today it’s only you and a few of your male coworkers you aren’t fond of because they aren’t good with flowers or customers especially if they’re women because they always try and flirt with them so you eventually have to step in to assist them having to do all the work.

Currently, there are no customers in the store and you’re working on some floral arrangement orders that were placed earlier this week, you’ve been working so hard that you begin to sweat a bit and wipe at your neck not realizing that the make-up you used to cover the bruises and hickeys had smudged and revealed the reddish-purple skin underneath, “Damn [Y/n], I didn’t realize you were into this kinda thing.” One of your male coworkers Minjun purrs trailing a cold finger up your neck making you tense up, “What are you talking about Minjun…” You mutter out still focusing on the flowers in front of you, “Oh you know, just the fact you’re a whore who enjoys being marked up.” He says as if it were the most casual thing in the world, at this you stop what you were doing to spin around and face the smirking boy who is looking at you with lidded eyes, you make sure to keep as much distance as you can from him but it's hard to do when he’s pressing himself up against you, “Minjun please move away from me.” You plead incredibly uncomfortable with the position you’re in. That feeling becomes even worse when your two other coworkers enter the room and grin wildly at the sight in front of them, “Wow, [Y/n] such a dirty girl doing this kinda thing with Junnie in the store where a customer could walk in.” Dowon says a filthy smirk on his face as he eyes you up and down, “Nah man, I think she’s hoping a customer will walk in and see her being a slut for us.” The other boy, Seongho says as he approaches you and Minjun, “No I don’t want that, and I don’t want this!” You begin to panic trying to think of a way you can get away from the three men who are closing in on you, you try and squish yourself further back against the table slowly moving your hand around it to try and feel for anything you can use to help defend yourself with, but you’re saved when the store bell rings and you quickly squeeze yourself from the unsafe moment and over to the customer to try and get away from them, “Hello ma’am how can I help you,” You say trying to keep your heart rate steady and keep yourself from shaking, “Oh I’m just looking for a little something to help brighten my house, I was thinking some roses would look great in my kitchen.” She explains, “I see, well we have a vast selection here at ‘Velvet Petal’ so I’m sure we can find you something you’ll love.” You spout trying to keep your voice steady and put on your best ‘customer service’ face and voice. After helping the woman you tell Minjun, Dowon, and Seongho that they can clock out for the day this seems to satisfy them and they quickly leave you alone at the store much to your relief, once they’ve left you feel you can breathe again and your heartbeat slowly returns to normal knowing you won’t be put in a situation like that for the rest of work. Since Sungwoo told you to work late tonight you decided to catch up on a few custom orders you’ve gotten this week and lock up before heading to the back area where you keep the floral arranging area, you work on one of your favorite orders of this week which is for a brides bouquet. After finishing a few more arrangements you check the time and groan when you discover it’s only 6 pm, you decide to clean up around the store hoping it will help pass more time. Luckily for you, it seems to work as the time is currently 8 pm, so you close the door of the shop and start making your way down the dark streets that are only illuminated by the moon’s shine. 

There is nobody down the street except for you.

An unsettling feelings begin to pool at the bottom of your stomach. You feel as if there are many pairs of eyes on you.

You pick up the pace beginning to speed walk,

You hear the sound of footsteps coming from somewhere behind you, you try and subtly turn your head but you are unable to see anything down the pitch-black street, you try to pull your phone from out of your pockets but find that it's not there, you begin to panic even more looking ahead of you to try and find anyone there who might be able to help you but you find nothing, the familiar street shops are now closed and there is no light in sight.

Your breathing becomes heavier as you begin to hear even more pairs of footsteps begin to follow you.

You think that you may be able to lose them if you swerve through different alleyways so that's what you do you make your way down different turns and cuts to try and lose the people following you but it doesn't work so when you pass the next alley you quickly turn into it to hide.

You duck down behind a dumpster and pray whoever it is that is following you won’t look there.

The sound of footsteps echo through the dingy alleyway.

You cover your nose and mouth with your hand doing your best to stay quiet, your eyes are beginning to blur with tears, and you are shaking, you make sure you stay silent as many pairs of feet pass your hiding spot.

Things are being thrown around, there are loud thuds and the sound of metal crashing against the concrete echoes off the brick walls of the dark and filthy alleyway.

You flinch at the loud sounds pressing your hand harshly against your mouth to muffle your yelp.

A gruff voice yells, “Fuck where’d she go!” And is followed by the sound of a can being kicked,

The can rolls towards you and your eyes widen “No, no, no…” You whimper to yourself trying to scoot away from it deeper into the middle of the large dumpster.

The alleyway goes silent.

You are breathing heavier and your eyes burn at the feeling of your unshed tears.

The three men nod to each other, one of them making their way to the dumpster covered in filth, as another makes their way to the other side of it. 

You hear their footsteps echoing off the walls as they get closer and closer to where you’re hiding. 

“Come out, Come out wherever ya are~” 

You hear the deep voice of a man say from the left of the dumpster, you whimper trying to keep your voice down, on the other side someone bangs on the side making you jump, you hear a raspy chuckle coming from your left and you can see the man's worn down shoes.

“Don’t worry doll, we ain't gonna hurt ya.” 

You hear the same voice speak up.

“Yeah, we jus’ wanna play with ya!”

You can hear the man to your left side say in a croaky, dry voice, you curl into yourself covering your ears and squeezing your eyes shut tightly, “Please, leave me alone..” You whisper to yourself in a shaky voice. But the dumpster is moved away from you revealing your hiding spot.

“There ya are pretty.”

One of the men says quickly grabbing onto your forearm, you yelp at the sudden movement and try to pry his hands off of you, “Please leave me alone!” You scream at the three men but they simply chuckle at your outrage.

 “Don't worry sweet thing we ain’t gonna hurt ya, we’re jus’ gonna make ya feel real good~” 

The man in the center speaks up as he approaches you, He gets closer and closer to you until he’s standing inches from you and you can smell the alcohol on his breath.

You rack your brain trying to figure out an escape route and as hard as you can you swing your leg up between his legs and nail him right in the balls, the man shrivels up and groans as he grips between his legs, you next turn your body and pry the man's hands off of you before dashing out of the alleyway.

“Don’t just stand there like a bunch a idiots go catch her!” You hear the man you kicked yell at the other two.

You sprint as fast as you can past the run-down apartment buildings, you can hear the two other men running after you their footsteps heavy and echoing, you manage to make it to an open convenience store and quickly make your way into it, “Please sir I need your help!” Your words are rushed and you’re wheezing from the run, the man looks panicked and confused, “Miss are you alright?” He asks, “No, please there are three men who dragged me down an alley I managed to escape, please help me!” You beg the man, tears streaming down your face, “Okay come this way I’ll help you.” He makes his way from behind the counter and brings you over to an employees-only break room, “You can hide in here for now and I’ll call you a cab okay miss?” “Yes sir, thank you so much for your help!” You hiccup wiping your tears away roughly, the old man pats your back before he makes his way back to the front of the store.

You hear the door to the store beep and some muffled voices but you’re sure it’s the men who are after you, you can hear some loud shouting before the store bell rings again and you pray that they’ve left.

The old man comes back in and informs you that the cab is here for you and that the men left. “Thank you so much, sir.” You bow deeply to the man but he simply waves you off, “Don’t worry about it, I only did the right thing to do.” You smile at the man's generosity before bowing once more as he walks you out of the store to see you off.

The ride back to your apartment is a long and silent one, you find your phone buried in your bag, you check it and begin to panic when you see the time is nearing midnight, you had no clue those men had been chasing you for so long but you don’t care since you’re safe from them, but you know you won’t be safe when you return to the apartment, you dread what Sungwoo’s may think happened, ‘Does he think I ran away?’, 

‘Will he worry when he knows what happened, will he even care?’, ‘Will he hurt me because I’m coming home late?’ 

You begin to overthink what may happen upon your return home.

When you finally make it back to the apartment building you take your time choosing to climb the stairs even if your body screams at you for doing so simply because it means you can put off the inevitable.

You stand outside the door trying to calm yourself down before finally pulling out your keys and unlocking the door, low and behold Sungwoo is waiting for you at the kitchen island his fingers interlaced as he glares at you, “Where were you?” He interrogates, “Y-you told me to work late tonight so I did.” You stutter, he hums before standing up and taking slow and heavy steps toward where you stand in the foyer, he stands a few inches away from you now, his gaze is cold and you can feel the rage roll off of him in waves, “You smell like alcohol and trash.” He states and you gulp, “I-I was being chased on my way home from work by three drunken men.” You say truthfully but Sungwoo simply scoffs at you, “Oh yea, 'cause I totally believe that,” He rolls his eyes, “I bet you were whoring yourself out.” He accuses you, a hand making its way to your face as his fingers dig into your skin while he strokes you, “You’re such a slut that you’d go around offering yourself to men on the street huh?” He muses, “N-no that's not what happened I promise.” You plead but he ignores you, so you switch tactics, “Besides why would I do that when I have you?” You make your best puppy eyes at him trying to play innocent hoping it’ll work, “Awe you’re so cute,” You feel a sting on the left side of your cheek, “To think that would work on me, it might’ve if you’d been home sooner but its past midnight [Y/n] so don’t play dumb with me.” He glares his hand digging into your scalp as he pulls on your hair, “Not to mention the state you’re in, you’re covered in filth and your hair is a mess.” he sneers at you, he begins pulling you deeper into the house by your hair, you can feel the itching pain of it and the sting of your cheek as he drags you into your room.

He throws you onto the floor making you drop down with a thud, you watch in horror as he begins to unbuckle his belt but instead of taking off his pants he folds the belt in half, “Take off your clothes.” He glares down at you as if you were dirt on his shoe, you quickly do as he says and strip yourself naked, you know what’s about to happen so you close your eyes tightly and position yourself onto your hands and knees like you know he wants you. “Good girl.” He says before he swings the leather belt down onto your back making you scream out in pain, after only the first swing your eyes well up with tears and your throat stings after the sharp yell,

“This.” Slap “ Is.” Slap ”What.” Slap ”You.” Slap “Deserve.” Slap “For.”  Slap ”Being.” Slap “A.” Slap “Slut” 

He whips the belt down onto you after each word he speaks, you scream and cry as you begin to feel welts and cuts appearing on the red, irritated skin. “I think you need a harsher punishment to remind you who you belong to.” He speaks his face twisted into a sadistic grin, he drops the belt to the floor and walks away you know not to move and just let yourself sob, you have no idea what he plans to do but you know it can’t be good if he’s left the room.

When he returns he kneels behind you, “Be a good girl and stay still, this will hurt less if you do.” He says in a sadistic voice and it scares you because you have no idea what he’s planning to do. 

Your resounding screams are blood-curdling.

You feel the sharp blade of a knife dig into your skin making weird turns that deepen as the knife twists and turns in your back.

The blade only lifts for a second before it starts carving into you again, you can feel warm blood drip from your open wounds, he’s digging it in deep and you know it will eventually lead to a gnarly scar once it's healed.

Your screams of “Stop!” and “No!” bounce off the wall of your room as you sob into your arms as he continues carving into you. “Shut up and stop squirming or I’ll have to redo it.” He says gritting his teeth as he makes more jagged cuts into your back as you scream in pain. Once he’s finally finished he closes his blade and dips his finger into your pooling blood and writes on your back with it. You’re full-on sobbing after he’s done taking shallow breaths in and out, you can’t seem to stop hyperventilating and your vision begins to blur as you lose consciousness.

When you wake next it’s 4 in the morning and your back is burning at the open wounds and welts that litter your skin, you carefully lift yourself off of the cold, wooden ground grateful that no substances are leaking from your legs proving Sungwoo didn’t do anything to you while you were unconscious so you can make your way to the bathroom, you don’t bother putting on clothes but you do grab a fresh pair of pajamas so you can clean yourself of the dried blood and grim that covers your entire body. You slowly make your way to the bathroom, every step feeling like agony you feel the stinging of your cheek and the burn of the welts and cuts not to mention the headache that was caused by your hair being pulled. You finally reach the bathroom quickly flicking the lights on and locking the door behind you, you stare into the mirror seeing your hair is once again a tangled rat's nest and that your cheek is a burning red where the shape of a hand-print takes place. You eventually get the courage to turn around and see the damage on your back and you’re horrified at what you see.

In crooked, jagged letters the word ‘SUNGWOO’ Is etched into your skin.

Your eyes begin to tear up at the condition your back is in, not only do you have his name in horrific letters carved onto you but you are covered in cuts and welts left from the belt as well as a bruise in the shape of the buckle on you, you can see that written in your dried blood are the words ‘This slut belongs to’ as they lead down the carved out name of Sungwoo.

You begin to gag at the state of your back and quickly make your way to the toilet to throw up, your eyes sting with tears and you slump down to the ground and begin to cry shaking violently not being able to erase the image from your mind. You eventually manage to pull yourself off the floor and turn on the shower to a luke-warm temperature since you don’t want to irritate your skin even more than it is, you step into the shower and gently wash your body, scrubbing harder at areas that need it, you also wash your filthy, knotted hair and leave the conditioner in to soak while you focus on washing away the blood on you back being careful not to irritate it, you make sure not to use soap on that area and only wash it with water, you’ll make sure to take the time to disinfect in once you get out. 

After you’re clean you slip on your pajamas making sure they’re loose fitting so they won’t rub onto you, you quietly make your way to your room and pull out a first aid kit and some rubbing alcohol to help clean yourself up more, you slowly slip off your shirt and put some of the rubbing alcohol onto a cotton ball before delicately swiping it over some of the smaller cuts before moving onto the words writing on you, it was difficult to maneuver your arms to your back but you managed to do a decent job at disinfecting yourself.

You decide to go out for a walk to try and keep your head straight so you slip on a hoodie and as quietly as you can you tiptoe your way out of the apartment, it’s still dark out and there are no stars out due to the cloudy night sky, you make your way to a playground near the apartment and stare blankly up at the sky, you feel void of any emotions and your head is finally clear of all your dreadful thoughts, there’s no more thoughts of Sungwoo, no more pain, no more wishing for everything to end, you feels as if you’re just a drift in the night sky. You’re sat on one of the swings, but you aren’t swinging through the air, no, you’re just sitting there the wind blowing through your hair occasionally causing you to rock a bit but for the most part you sit there staring at the sky. Everything is silent, you don’t hear anything, and even the sound of crickets chirping is absent. 

“You shouldn’t be out alone at night.”

You whip your head around behind you to where you hear a voice but no one is there.

“It’s dangerous for you to be out this late.”

You hear the voice once more but this time in front of you and you spin around once more only to see no one once again, “Who’s there!” You shout into the darkness but the only answer you receive is the whisper of wind blowing past you, “I’m losing my mind.” You whisper to yourself, but you swear you hear a deep chuckle coming from the playground so you turn your head to strain your eyes to see if anyone is there, in the shadows of the night is the silhouette of a man.

You stiffen up in your position and clench your hands ignoring the pinch of the swing chains as they dig into your palms uncomfortably, “Who are you?” You demand, “What do you want from me!” Once again the figure chuckles, “I give you good advice and this is the thanks I get?” The man asks in a teasing voice, and when he receives no answer he hums, “You can think of me as a friend, and as for what I want from you it's easy,” He says, “We want to help you.” The man states casually, you can see his silhouette’s shoulders shrug, “We?” You narrow your eyes at the man, you slowly stand up from the swing and begin to back up in case he tries to approach you but you end up backing into something making you go stiff once more, you quickly realize you’ve run into a person as their cold hands wrap around your shoulders.

“That's right, we only want to help.” 

The person behind you whispers into your ear, his voice is deep and has an accent to it, the heat of their breath on the shell of your ear making you shiver. 

You keep your eyes on the person by the playground when you see 6 more figures manifest from out of the shadows.

“I don’t know what you mean by helping me, but I don’t want your help, please leave me alone..” You choke out praying they don’t try to do anything to you.

“Don’t worry we won’t hurt you or try anything funny.” A different voice speaks up and you can only assume it’s the figure on the top of the playground's roof, “H-how do I know I can trust you not to do anything?” You stutter in response, The figure behind you hums “I suppose you can’t, but we want to help you with getting rid of that pesky parasite.” You flinch as his deep voice penetrates your ears “P-parasite? What are you talking about?” You whimper out, 

“I think you know what we’re talking about.” 

One of the shadows speaks up.

“You reek of the smell of blood, and you look terrified.” Another voice speaks up, “I smell like what?” You ask confused, but the group ignores your question “Not to mention you’ve got bruises all over and you look tired but not the sleep-deprived kind of tired, your face is sunken in and you look like you cry a lot.” but this observation makes you even more confused, “How do you know about my bruises?” You breathe out, “We can see the hand-shaped ones across your throat, you’re clearly a victim of such a nasty parasite.” The man behind you speaks up, and out of reflex, you move your hand up to brush your fingers over the dark bruise “A-are you talking about Sungwoo?” You whisper out, You see their silhouettes nod.

“We can help you if you’d like. We can kill Park Sungwoo.”

_________________________________________

<---Prev Master List Next---->

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[yaoiadderall]

this is stiles and isaac. to me

[pucksandpower]

Critics and Lovers

Max Verstappen x journalist!Reader

Summary: how would the paddock react if they knew that the woman writing scathing critiques about the reigning world champion weekend after weekend was the same woman who whispers sweet nothings in his ear at night?

“Did you really go to school for half a decade to get your journalism degree just to ask if I think I’ll win?”

Max’s voice cuts through the bustle of the press room, drawing the attention of a few journalists milling around with their notebooks and recorders. He leans back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, his smirk more amused than annoyed. His blue eyes — always so intense under the brim of his cap — lock onto yours, daring you to respond.

You raise an eyebrow, fighting the urge to roll your eyes at him. “I’m asking the questions the people want answers to, Max. It’s my job, remember?”

“Your job is to provoke me, apparently,” he counters, leaning forward slightly, his smirk widening. “But you know, you could at least pretend to be creative. Ask something that might surprise me for once.”

“I wasn’t aware you had the capacity to be surprised,” you quip, your pen hovering over your notepad as if ready to jot down his response.

Max lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Touché. But if you’re expecting me to give you a soundbite for your next article, you’ll have to do better than that.”

The exchange draws a few chuckles from the nearby journalists, but they quickly refocus on their own tasks, used to the banter between the two of you. After all, it’s no secret that you’re Max Verstappen’s biggest critic.

Week after week, your articles dissect his performances with surgical precision, never shying away from pointing out his flaws, his temper, his moments of questionable judgment. To everyone else, you’re just doing your job, holding one of the sport’s biggest stars accountable. But to Max — well, he seems to take it in stride, brushing off your critiques with the same ease he shows on track.

What no one else knows, though, is that this verbal sparring is just another part of the complicated dance you and Max have been perfecting for years. A dance that begins in front of cameras and microphones, and ends in private, where the lines between your professional rivalry and personal relationship blur into something neither of you can fully define.

“Okay, fine,” you say, pretending to think hard about your next question. “How about this: what’s your plan for today? Any new strategies to surprise us with?”

Max raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “That’s almost worse than your first question. Did you really think that would get me talking?”

You sigh, exasperated. “Maybe if you gave me a straight answer for once, I wouldn’t have to keep asking.”

He leans in closer, lowering his voice just enough so only you can hear. “Maybe if you asked me something off the record, I’d actually consider it.”

“Off the record doesn’t sell papers, Max,” you reply, your tone equally low but tinged with something more affectionate, something that would be impossible to miss for anyone paying close attention.

Max’s smirk softens into something more sincere, his eyes flickering with the warmth that you’ve come to associate with the quiet moments you share away from the track, away from the scrutiny of the world.

It’s a look that says he knows you’re playing a role, just like he is. That despite the biting comments and the professional jabs, there’s a mutual understanding between you. A connection that runs deeper than anything either of you would ever admit in public.

But here, in this crowded room filled with reporters who’d kill for the kind of scoop only you could provide, that connection has to stay hidden. Because if anyone ever found out the truth — if they knew that you, the woman who writes those scathing critiques of Max Verstappen, were the same woman who shares his bed at night — it would be the end of both your careers.

And so, the game continues, with both of you playing your parts to perfection.

“Next time, try asking me something interesting,” Max says, his voice returning to its usual volume as he straightens in his chair, signaling the end of your private moment. “Otherwise, I’ll start thinking you’re getting lazy.”

You give him a look that’s meant to be stern but can’t quite hide the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Lazy? I think you’re confusing me with your performance last weekend.”

The jab earns you a mock glare from Max, but he doesn’t take the bait, instead giving a noncommittal shrug. “We’ll see who’s lazy when I’m on top of the podium later.”

“Confident as ever, I see,” you remark, jotting down a few notes that you know you’ll never actually use.

“Just stating facts,” he says, and for a moment, you can’t help but admire the way he carries himself, the ease with which he navigates this world of high stakes and even higher expectations. It’s one of the things that drew you to him in the first place, back when neither of you had any idea where this relationship was heading.

“Well, good luck out there,” you say, finally stepping back to let the next reporter have their turn. But as you move away, you catch the briefest flash of something in his eyes — something that tells you he’s not just thinking about the race ahead, but about the conversation you’ll have later, away from prying eyes.

As you find a spot at the back of the room, your phone buzzes in your pocket. A quick glance tells you it’s a message from Max, sent under the guise of a work-related email, as usual.

You know I’m going to make you pay for that lazy comment later, right?

You bite back a smile, typing out a quick response.

Promises, promises.

The rest of the press conference goes by in a blur of questions and answers, none of which capture your attention the way Max does. You’re barely listening when the moderator finally wraps things up, and the drivers start to file out.

But before Max can make his exit, he pauses just long enough to catch your eye, giving you a look that’s all too familiar. It’s the same look he gave you the first time you met, back when he was just another driver on the grid and you were the new journalist determined to make a name for yourself. A look that says he’s already planning what he’s going to say to you later, when the cameras are off and the real conversations can begin.

You follow the crowd out of the room, blending in with the other journalists as you make your way toward the paddock. But your thoughts are already drifting to the end of the day, to the moment when you’ll finally be alone with Max, free to drop the pretense and just be yourselves.

Because despite the roles you play in public — the critical journalist and the cocky driver — in private, you’re something else entirely. Something that neither of you can fully explain, but neither of you wants to give up.

“Heading back to the media center?” One of your colleagues asks as you step outside, the midday sun beating down on the paddock.

“Yeah, I’ve got a deadline to meet,” you reply, forcing your mind back to the task at hand. But even as you say it, you know that your thoughts will be elsewhere for the rest of the day. On Max, and the secret you both share. A secret that, for now, is safe.

But how long can it stay that way?

The question lingers in your mind as you head back to your desk, the usual chatter of the paddock fading into the background. You’ve always known that this arrangement couldn’t last forever, that eventually, something would give.

The world of Formula 1 is too small, too tightly knit, for secrets like this to stay buried forever. And when the truth finally comes out — because it’s not a matter of if, but when — you know that everything will change.

But for now, you push those thoughts aside, focusing on the article you need to write. It’s what you’re good at, after all — crafting narratives, shaping stories. And today, the story is about Max, the driver who never fails to surprise you, both on and off the track.

The press room is quieter now, most of the other journalists having moved on to other tasks. You sit down at your laptop, the screen reflecting your determined expression. The cursor blinks at you, waiting. And as you begin to type, the words flow easily, the story taking shape with each keystroke.

It’s a story the world has seen before — another race, another analysis of Max Verstappen’s performance. But underneath it all, there’s a subtext that only you can see, a hidden layer that tells the real story. The one that will never make it to print.

The one that belongs to just you and Max.

Hours pass in a blur, your fingers flying over the keyboard as you lose yourself in the work. It’s almost too easy to write about Max, to analyze his every move, his every decision. You know him better than anyone, after all — better than any other journalist in this room, better than most of the people in his life. It’s a knowledge that comes with a price, though, a price you’re all too aware of.

But as the final paragraph falls into place, you sit back, satisfied. The article is done, the narrative complete. And with it, the day’s work is finally over. You stretch, glancing around the empty press room, and for a moment, you allow yourself to relax. To let go of the role you’ve been playing all day, and just be yourself.

Your phone buzzes again, pulling you back to reality. Another message from Max.

Meet me in the usual place?

You don’t hesitate before typing out a reply.

On my way.

The media center is almost deserted as you make your way out, the soft hum of electronics the only sound filling the room. You slip your laptop into your bag and sling it over your shoulder, feeling the weight of the day lift slightly as you step into the paddock. The evening air is cooler now, a welcome relief after the day’s heat, and the sky is streaked with shades of orange and pink as the sun dips below the horizon.

You walk with purpose, navigating the familiar maze of trailers and motorhomes, heading toward the secluded spot where you and Max often meet. It’s tucked away from the main pathways, a place where no one would think to look for you, and that’s exactly why it works. You reach the spot and pause, taking a deep breath before stepping around the corner.

Max is already there, leaning against the side of a trailer, his cap pulled low over his eyes, hands shoved in his pockets. He looks up as you approach, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“Took you long enough,” he says, his tone teasing.

“Had to finish that article you’re so eager to read,” you reply, stopping a few feet away from him, just outside the reach of his hands.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s a glowing review of my abilities,” he says, pushing off the trailer and closing the distance between you in two strides. He reaches for your hand, pulling you closer, and you don’t resist. Here, in this quiet corner of the paddock, the walls come down, and the roles you play for the cameras melt away.

“Glowing might be a stretch,” you say, allowing yourself a small smile as his hand lingers on your waist. “But it’s fair.”

“Fair is good,” he murmurs, leaning in so his forehead rests against yours. “But if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re going easy on me.”

���Maybe I am,” you admit, your voice softening. “Or maybe I just think you deserve a break every now and then.”

“From the criticism? Or from you?” He asks, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Both,” you say, giving him a playful shove, but he doesn’t budge, his grip on you firm yet gentle.

“You know I’d never take a break from you,” he says, his voice low, serious now. His thumb strokes your side, sending a shiver up your spine.

You close your eyes for a moment, letting the sensation wash over you. It’s these moments you treasure the most, the ones where it’s just the two of you, no expectations, no pressure. Just Max and you, stripped down to the simplest version of yourselves.

“I know,” you whisper, opening your eyes to meet his gaze. “I’d never let you.”

His smile turns tender, and he cups your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin in a way that makes your heart skip a beat. “Good,” he says simply, before closing the small gap between you and pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss is soft, unhurried, a stark contrast to the fast-paced world you both live in. It’s a reminder of what you have, what you’ve built together despite the odds. And as you kiss him back, you feel a warmth spread through you, one that has nothing to do with the lingering heat of the day.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead resting against yours again, he lets out a small sigh, as if he’s been holding his breath all day and can finally relax. “I hate this,” he admits quietly.

“Hate what?” You ask, your fingers playing with the edge of his shirt, needing the physical connection to anchor you.

“Hiding,” he says, the word heavy with the weight of months, years of secrecy. “I hate that we have to keep doing this, sneaking around like we’re doing something wrong.”

You feel a pang in your chest, because you hate it too. Hate the way you have to pretend to be something you’re not in front of everyone else. Hate the way you have to watch your words, your actions, every time you’re in the same room as him. But more than that, you hate the idea of what would happen if the truth came out. The scrutiny, the backlash, the way it would change everything.

“I know,” you say softly, your fingers stilling on his shirt. “But it’s the only way right now. We both knew that going into this.”

“I know we did,” he replies, his voice tinged with frustration. “But it doesn’t make it any easier.”

“No,” you agree, resting your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “It doesn’t.”

He wraps his arms around you, holding you close, and for a while, neither of you says anything. The silence is comforting, a shared understanding that words can’t always convey. It’s moments like these that make the rest of it bearable — the stolen kisses, the secret glances, the knowledge that, no matter what happens, you’ll always have each other.

Eventually, Max pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression softer now, the frustration replaced with something gentler, more resigned. “I just wish it could be different,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Me too,” you admit, your heart aching with the truth of it. “But we’ll get through this, Max. We always do.”

He nods, though you can see the doubt lingering in his eyes. “Yeah, we will,” he says, as if trying to convince himself as much as you. “And when we do, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

“Together,” you echo, holding onto the word like a lifeline.

He leans in to kiss you again, and this time, it’s slower, more deliberate, as if he’s trying to memorize every detail, every sensation. And you let him, because you’re doing the same, savoring the feel of him, the taste of him, the way his hand cradles the back of your head like you’re something precious.

When you finally break apart, both of you are breathless, and the world feels a little less heavy, a little less overwhelming. Max rests his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, his breath warm against your skin.

“I love you,” he says, the words so simple, yet so profound in the way they ground you, remind you of what’s important.

“I love you too,” you reply, your voice steady, certain.

He smiles then, that slow, genuine smile that’s just for you, the one that makes your heart skip a beat every time. And in that moment, everything else fades away — the doubts, the fears, the uncertainty of what the future holds. Because right now, in this quiet corner of the paddock, it’s just the two of you, and that’s enough.

For now, it’s enough.

“Come on,” Max says after a moment, his hand finding yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Let’s get out of here before someone comes looking for us.”

You nod, and together, you slip out of the shadows, making your way back through the maze of trailers and motorhomes, hand in hand. The paddock is quieter now, most of the crew having called it a day, and the sky is a deep, dusky blue as night settles in.

As you walk, you can’t help but glance at Max, the way his profile is lit by the dim lights of the paddock, the way his grip on your hand never wavers. It’s moments like these that make it all worth it — the sacrifices, the secrecy, the constant balancing act between your public and private lives.

Because at the end of the day, it’s not the criticism or the articles or even the races that matter. It’s this — being with him, knowing that no matter what, you’ll always have each other.

And as you slip out of the paddock together, unnoticed by anyone, you hold onto that thought, letting it carry you through the darkness, through the uncertainty of what tomorrow might bring.

Because for now, it’s enough.

And that’s all you need.

***

The Hidden Truth: Why I Kept My Marriage a Secret

By: Y/N Y/L/N

For as long as I’ve been a journalist, I’ve prided myself on one thing: honesty. I’ve built a career on asking the tough questions, on digging for the truth even when it’s uncomfortable, and on holding the powerful accountable. That’s why, as I sit down to write this, I find myself in an unfamiliar position — one where I’m the subject of my own scrutiny.

Over the past few years, I’ve become known as Max Verstappen’s biggest critic. I’ve questioned his decisions on track, his attitude off it, and his approach to the sport we both love. I’ve written article after article dissecting his every move, never once pulling my punches. And, in doing so, I’ve created a persona that many have come to recognize — a journalist who isn’t afraid to speak her mind, no matter who she’s writing about.

But there’s something I’ve kept hidden. Something I’ve chosen not to share, not because I’m ashamed of it, but because it’s deeply personal. And now, it’s time to tell the truth.

Max Verstappen is my husband.

Yes, you read that correctly. The man I’ve spent years publicly scrutinizing is the same man I wake up next to every morning, the same man who knows me better than anyone else in this world. We’ve been married for two years, together for even longer, and our relationship is something I hold incredibly dear.

I can already hear the questions — how could I, a journalist dedicated to transparency, keep such a monumental secret? How could I write so critically about the man I love, knowing the impact my words would have? The answers are complex, but I’ll do my best to explain.

When Max and I first started dating, it was easy to keep our relationship private. We were just two people trying to navigate the chaotic world of Formula 1, and neither of us wanted the added pressure of public scrutiny. But as our relationship grew more serious, we both knew that revealing it would come with consequences — not just for us, but for our careers, our reputations, and our personal lives.

So we made a choice. We decided that our relationship was something we wanted to protect, something we wanted to keep just for ourselves. And yes, that meant keeping it a secret from the public, from our colleagues, even from some of our closest friends.

But the secrecy wasn’t about hiding. It was about creating a space where we could be ourselves, away from the cameras, the interviews, the constant analysis of every move we made. It was about having something that was ours and ours alone, in a world where so much is shared, dissected, and often distorted.

Now, as for the criticism — many of you will likely wonder how I could write so harshly about the man I love. The truth is, when I put on my journalist hat, I’m not Max Verstappen’s wife. I’m not Y/N, the woman who loves him. I’m Y/N Y/L/N, the journalist who has a job to do. And that job is to report on the sport objectively, to ask the tough questions, and to hold everyone — including my husband — accountable.

Max knew this from the beginning, and he respected it. In fact, he encouraged it. He didn’t want me to go easy on him just because of our relationship. He wanted me to be true to myself and to my profession, even if that meant writing things that were difficult for both of us. And yes, there were times when it was hard — when I wrote something that hurt him, when we had to have difficult conversations about where to draw the line between my role as a journalist and my role as his partner.

But through it all, we’ve managed to keep our relationship strong, because we both understand that what happens on the track, what’s written in the press, isn’t the full story. The full story is what happens behind closed doors, away from the public eye, in the quiet moments we share when it’s just the two of us.

And now, the secret’s out. I know this revelation will come as a shock to many, and I’m prepared for the questions, the speculation, and yes, the criticism that will inevitably follow. But I want to make one thing clear — I’m not sorry.

I’m not sorry for keeping our relationship private. I’m not sorry for protecting something that means the world to me. And I’m not sorry for continuing to do my job with integrity, even when it meant writing things that were difficult for both of us.

This is our truth. It’s messy, it’s complicated, but it’s ours. And now, it’s out there for the world to see. I’m not asking for understanding or approval, because I know this will be a difficult pill for some to swallow. But I am asking for respect — for my choices, for our relationship, and for the fact that, at the end of the day, we’re just two people who fell in love in a world that’s anything but ordinary.

Max and I are still the same people we were before you knew about us. He’s still the incredible driver you’ve come to admire, and I’m still the journalist who will continue to ask the tough questions, no matter who’s on the other side of them.

The only difference now is that you know the full story.

And I’m okay with that.

***

The Other Side: Why We Chose to Keep Our Love Private

By: Max Verstappen

I’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge, whether on the track or off. Racing is in my blood — it’s what I’ve known and loved my entire life. But writing? That’s a whole different race, one where I’m definitely out of my comfort zone. So, when Y/N suggested I write this article, I wasn’t sure if it was such a great idea. But she convinced me — like she always does — so here I am, trying to find the words to explain what’s been one of the most significant parts of my life, one that I’ve kept hidden from the world until now.

As you’ve probably read by now, Y/N Y/L/N, the journalist who has been my harshest critic, is also my wife. Let that sink in for a moment — I know it took me a while to get used to the idea too. Not the fact that she’s my wife, but that the world now knows something we’ve kept private for so long.

When Y/N and I started dating, we had no idea where it would lead. We were just two people who happened to find something special in each other, despite the chaos of our worlds. But as our relationship deepened, so did the challenges. How do you navigate a relationship when one of you is in the spotlight 24/7, and the other’s job is to shine that light as brightly as possible, even when it’s uncomfortable?

We quickly realized that what we had was too important to let the world dictate how we lived it. So, we made a choice — a choice to keep our relationship private, not because we were ashamed, but because we wanted something for ourselves, something that wasn’t up for public debate or scrutiny.

People will ask why we did it, why we went to such lengths to keep it a secret, and the answer is simple: because we had to. Being a Formula 1 driver means living your life under a microscope. Every move you make, every word you say, is analyzed, criticized, and often misunderstood. It’s a pressure cooker, and adding a public relationship into that mix was something we weren’t willing to do.

It wasn’t an easy decision. There were times when I wanted to scream from the rooftops about how much I love this woman, how much she means to me, and how proud I am of her. But I knew that doing so would open us up to a level of scrutiny neither of us wanted or needed. And so, we kept it quiet, we kept it private, and we built something strong and real away from the cameras.

That’s not to say it was without its challenges. Y/N’s articles about me — some of which were less than flattering — were hard to swallow at times. But I respected her too much to ask her to change the way she does her job. She’s a journalist, and a damn good one at that. She has a responsibility to her readers, to the sport, and to herself to be honest, even if that honesty stings.

Did it hurt when she wrote something critical about me? Of course, it did. But I also understood that what she wrote came from a place of integrity, not malice. It was her job to ask the tough questions, to hold me accountable, and to do so without bias. And I loved her even more for it.

You might wonder how we managed to keep our relationship strong despite the secrecy and the criticism. The truth is, we did it by being honest with each other in ways we couldn’t be with anyone else. We talked — about everything. About the articles, about the pressures we were both under, about our fears and our hopes for the future. We made sure that, no matter what happened on the track or in the press, we were solid in our relationship. And we were.

But now that the secret’s out, I know things will change. People will have opinions, and they’ll want to know every detail of how we made this work. They’ll want to dissect our relationship just like they dissect my races. And that’s fine — we knew this day would come eventually.

What I want people to understand, though, is that our decision to keep our relationship private wasn’t about deception. It was about protection. We wanted to protect what we had, to give ourselves the space to grow as a couple without the pressures of the outside world bearing down on us.

I’ve always been a private person, and that’s not going to change just because the truth is out. But I’m also incredibly proud of what Y/N and I have built together. She’s my toughest critic, yes, but she’s also my biggest supporter, my partner, and the person I trust more than anyone else in this world.

So, why write this now? Because I want to set the record straight. I want people to understand that our relationship is real, that it’s built on love, respect, and a shared understanding of what it means to live in this crazy world of Formula 1. We didn’t hide it because we were ashamed — we hid it because we wanted to protect it, to keep it safe from the chaos that surrounds us every day.

And now that the secret’s out, I’m not afraid of what’s to come. I know there will be challenges, but I also know that we’ll face them together, just like we’ve faced everything else.

This is our story. It’s not perfect, and it’s far from simple, but it’s ours. And now, the world knows it too.

***

The sun hangs low over the paddock as you walk beside Max, your hand nestled comfortably in his. The usually bustling environment feels different today, like the air has thickened with anticipation. You can feel the eyes on you — hundreds of them, some curious, some incredulous, all hungry for the next piece of the puzzle that is you and Max Verstappen.

You’ve written about this very paddock more times than you can count. You’ve captured its energy, its chaos, its unpredictability. But today, for the first time, you’re the story.

Max squeezes your hand, a silent reassurance, and you glance up at him. He’s calm, or at least he appears to be. You know him well enough to see the subtle signs of tension — the set of his jaw, the way his eyes scan the crowd with a little more intensity than usual. He’s ready for whatever comes next. So are you, or at least that’s what you tell yourself.

“Ready?” He asks, his voice low, meant only for you.

“As I’ll ever be,” you reply, managing a small smile.

The first few steps into the paddock are deceptively quiet, almost serene. But then, as if someone has flipped a switch, the cameras flash, the microphones extend, and the questions start flying at you from every direction.

“Max! Is it true you’ve been married for two years?”

“Y/N, why did you keep it a secret?”

“How does this change your dynamic on the grid?”

“Will you be writing about Max differently now?”

You and Max exchange a glance, a wordless conversation in the middle of the media frenzy. His hand tightens around yours, a steady anchor in the chaos. You can feel the eyes of your colleagues, the other journalists who are now looking at you not as one of them but as a subject. It’s a disorienting feeling, like the world has suddenly shifted and you’re standing in a place you no longer recognize.

Max leans in close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “Welcome to my world.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up, a sound that cuts through the tension like a knife. It’s absurd, this whole situation. You’ve spent years writing about him, criticizing him, analyzing his every move, and now you’re on the other side of that scrutiny.

You straighten your shoulders, drawing on every ounce of professionalism you have. This is what you signed up for. You’ve spent years dissecting the lives of others, and now it’s your turn to be under the microscope. It’s only fair.

But Max isn’t letting you go it alone. He steps forward, his presence commanding as he addresses the swarm of reporters. “We’ll take questions, but let’s keep it civil,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The first question comes from a reporter you recognize, someone you’ve shared more than a few press rooms with. “Max, how does it feel to have your relationship with Y/N out in the open?”

Max glances at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. “It feels good. We’ve wanted to keep this part of our lives private, but now that it’s out, we’re ready to move forward.”

Another reporter jumps in, this one more aggressive. “Y/N, how do you expect to remain unbiased in your reporting now that everyone knows you’re married to Max?”

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay calm. “I’ve always strived for objectivity in my work, and that won’t change. My relationship with Max is separate from my role as a journalist. I’ll continue to ask the tough questions, just as I always have.”

It’s a carefully crafted answer, one you rehearsed in your head a dozen times before stepping into the paddock. But you can see the skepticism in their eyes, the doubt that you can truly keep your professional and personal lives separate. It stings, but you knew it was coming.

Max’s voice cuts through the murmurs. “Y/N has always been one of the best in the business, and that’s not going to change just because we’re married. If anything, she’ll probably be even harder on me now.”

There’s a ripple of laughter, a brief moment of levity in the tension-filled space. But it’s short-lived. The questions keep coming, each one sharper than the last.

“Max, do you think your performance on the track will be affected now that your marriage is public?”

“Y/N, do you regret keeping this a secret for so long?”

“What about the other drivers? How do they feel about this?”

You’re starting to feel the weight of it all, the relentless pressure of the cameras, the voices, the questions that seem to dig deeper and deeper. But Max is by your side, unwavering, and that gives you strength.

“I don’t regret anything,” you say firmly, your voice cutting through the noise. “Max and I made the decision to keep our relationship private because it was what was best for us. We wanted to protect something that mattered to us, and I don’t think anyone can fault us for that.”

Max nods, his hand still wrapped around yours. “We knew this would come with challenges, but we’re ready to face them together.”

There’s a moment of silence, a pause as the reporters digest your words. But you know this isn’t the end of it. The scrutiny, the questions, they’re not going to stop anytime soon. You’ve become the story, and that’s something you’ll have to live with.

But as you stand there, side by side with Max, you realize that you’re okay with it. You’ve spent years writing about other people’s lives, their triumphs and failures, their relationships and rivalries. Now, it’s your turn to be in the spotlight, and you’re ready for it.

“Max, Y/N,” a voice calls out, one of the more seasoned journalists you’ve always respected. “What’s next for you two? How do you plan to navigate this new chapter?”

Max looks at you, his eyes softening. “We’re going to keep doing what we’ve always done. I’ll keep racing, Y/N will keep writing, and we’ll keep supporting each other every step of the way. This is just another challenge, and we’re more than ready to face it.”

You nod, feeling a surge of confidence. “We’re not going to let this change who we are or what we do. We’ve always been a team, and that’s not going to change now.”

There’s a finality to your words, a sense that you’ve said all there is to say. The reporters sense it too, the questions starting to taper off as they realize they’re not going to get anything more out of you today.

Max squeezes your hand one last time before turning to the crowd. “Thanks, everyone. We’ll see you in the media pen.”

With that, he starts to lead you away, but not before you catch the eyes of a few of your colleagues. There’s a mix of emotions there — some understanding, some curiosity, and yes, some judgment. But you don’t let it get to you. You’ve spent your career building a reputation, and one revelation isn’t going to tear that down.

As you walk away from the crowd, Max’s arm slips around your waist, pulling you close. “Not so bad, huh?” He murmurs.

You laugh softly, leaning into him. “Speak for yourself. I think I’ll stick to writing the articles, not being the subject of them.”

Max chuckles, his breath warm against your temple. “Now you know why I’m not a fan of the media. Present company excluded, of course.”

“Of course,” you echo, smiling up at him.

The paddock is still buzzing with energy, the usual pre-race preparations in full swing. But you and Max walk through it with a new sense of purpose, a newfound clarity. The secret is out, and while it comes with challenges, it also comes with freedom — a freedom to be yourselves, to love each other openly, without the burden of secrecy.

You know the road ahead won’t be easy. There will be more questions, more scrutiny, more judgment. But as long as you have Max by your side, you know you can handle whatever comes your way.

[sixx-sixx-sixx]

LADY BRIDGERTON - Anthony Bridgerton x wife!reader (smut)

Summary: Reader has been married to Anthony Bridgerton for too long, it feels, although it has only been a few years. In that short time, not only has he only touched her naked body once, but he comes home most nights smelling of sweat and another woman’s perfume. Lady Whistledown has caught wind of this, and the gossip sends Lady Bridgerton over the edge. Anthony takes the time to give his wife exactly what she’s asking for.

Warnings: smut; badly written smut lol; infidelity; arguments about infidelity; possibly out of character anthony; I’ve only watched season 1 of Bridgerton; breeding kink; unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it but this is a married couple); female reader/use of she/her pronouns; as always, proofread to the best of my ability

“Do you wish to make a fool of me?” Anthony leaned down to whisper in his young wife’s ear, a firm hand grabbing her elbow as he interrupted her conversation with a young man from Russia, or Hungary. He didn’t pay much mind to the boy so much as the woman who bore his last name, fully aware of the way she had been subtly flirting with many men that night. Taking count of the glasses of bubbles she had — she was nursing her fourth flute, Anthony had decided it was enough.

Don’t make a scene.

Lady Bridgerton felt an intense urge to strike her husband across his cheek, how dare he accuse her of making a fool out of him. All evening she had overheard whispers of Anthony’s name from nasty gossipers. The young Bridgertons had been the central characters in the latest edition of Lady Whistledown. Rumor has it that Lord Bridgerton had continued an affair with a certain singer, without bothering to hide it from his young wife. Even worse? Lady Bridgerton knew, as they all knew, and never seemed to let the truth affect how she presented herself to those around her.

“Would you like me to answer that truthfully, my dear husband?” She turned her gaze towards him, her eyes alight with a burning fury towards the unfaithful man she had devoted her life to. She jerked her arm away from his grip and started to lift the glass to her painted lips. Anthony grabbed the dainty piece of glass and shook his head, “I think you’ve had enough. It’s time for you to go home.”

A bitter laugh escaped her mouth before she could stop it, as a few heads turned to observe the titular couple. “If that is your wish, Mr. Bridgerton.” She turned on her heel and started to make her way out to the cold air, cursing herself for leaving her coat in the carriage. She didn’t even bother to wait for her husband to catch up as she informed the valet they would be leaving.

The carriage ride to the estate wasn’t anything special. She would sit and seethe in silence during the ride, her eyes burning a hole through Anthony’s forehead as he sat across from her. The argument began once the couple was behind the safety of their bedroom door, standing in front of each other with defenses up. “We have been married for two years, Anthony! Two years and the only time you have touched me was on our wedding night. Yet every night you come home, to OUR bed, smelling like some whore’s perfume! I am left to listen to the ton gossip about MY empty bed!” She nearly hissed the words to punctuate her accusations. Anthony had never seen such an outburst from the young woman, she had never spoken to him like that before. She was standing before him, the drinks she had at the ball fueling her anger and simultaneously allowing the anger to sober her head.

“I know that I wasn’t who you wanted to marry, I understand that this was just a beneficial arrangement for you. But I expect that as the woman who now holds your family name, who will one day bear your children, that you could at the very least respect me!” She was angry that he had just stood there and watched her yell, but at the same time, she wouldn’t let him get a word in.

“You cannot expect me to be a dutiful wife and lady if you refuse to grant me at least the tiniest shred of dignity. You, sir, make a fool of yourself, I am merely seeking that same kind of attention you seek from Siena.” Her voice dripped with sickly sweet venom as she spat the woman’s name.

Anthony allowed the woman to speak her mind on his infidelity, finally admitting to himself that he had been unfair to her. He frequently came into their room in the middle of the night when he expected the woman to be asleep. In the beginning of the marriage, he had at least tried to hide the evidence, changing his clothes before he climbed under the blankets next to her. Now, she was accustomed to him laying down beside her without even taking off the shirt that was stained with Siena’s stage makeup and that reeked of her pungent perfume.

“I do not understand, Anthony. I can come to terms with a loveless marriage, but I am so exhausted by knowing you’re giving her that kind of attention, and I have remained loyal to you despite the obvious signs of your affair-“ her rant was abruptly cut short when Anthony floated over to her, his hands gripping her cheeks with fervor as he crashed his lips to hers. Taking only a moment to stand in shock, she pressed her lips back against his, her hand reaching to grip onto the front of his overcoat. Desperately reaching for more, trying to edge him closer to their bed but ultimately allowing him full control over her mind, body and soul. She let out a disappointed whimper when his lips parted from hers, his face inches from her own.

“What is it that you want from me, woman? You wish for me to touch you the way I touch her? Or do you believe my hands to be too stained?” She hated how close his lips were, desperately trying to reach forward as he spoke his mind. She didn’t really care how improper the words sounded as they came from his mouth, because she DID want him to touch her- not just touch, she wanted him to fuck her the way he fucked his mistress.

She took a moment to find her words, not expecting her confrontation to lead to this moment. “Anthony, I am your wife. All I want is for you to- to fuck me the way a husband fucks his wife.”

Understanding that he had a year’s worth of missing passion to make up for, and seeing that deep down he had no other choice than to obey the woman before him, he easily obliged. In this moment, Siena didn’t exist to him. He was purely focused on making sure his duties as a husband were thoroughly taken care of. Tonight, he would go to sleep smelling of his wife’s soft scent, making sure to cover the woman in marks of his affection.

Little time was wasted in getting their clothes off. A mess of hands clashing together to try and undo buttons and layers and loops, the couple grasping at each other as though they were desperate for the other as a life source.

Anthony paused for a moment to admire his lady’s body in the soft candlelight, letting his hands first run over the delectable curve of her hips, trailing up her sides before settling on her supple breasts.

“I’m sorry that I have spent so long torturing you, making you only imagine my hands touching you like this. I promise, my lady, I will do a much better job at attending to whatever it is you wish from me.” Anthony promised as his eyes stayed locked with hers. Her pupils were blown wide, and he realized he didn’t even know what color her irises were meant to be. He told himself he’d be a better husband to her after this, wanting to ensure her place in society as his wife. He’d fuck her full of his seed tonight, and every night after that, to make sure that Lady Whistledown could never accuse him of neglecting his wife’s desires again.

“Please, my lord, please--“ Lady Bridgerton sounded deliciously desperate, and it excited Anthony in a way that he had never experienced in his years-long affairs with Siena. It spurred him to plunge his cock deeper into his wife, his hand pushing her thigh down to her shoulder as he positioned her to angle himself deeper. She would probably think about the pressure against her cervix for the rest of her life, praying to God that she’d be able to experience this side of her husband for the rest of their lives together.

“What is it that you want, Lady Bridgerton? Tell me with words, my love, I want to hear you say it.” In this close position he could make sure she could look into his eyes to see he was genuine in this moment.

She was surprised at his stamina and determination tonight, focused more on her body than chasing his own release. A complete contrast to their wedding night, she felt like he treated the consummation as a chore. This was a much, much better experience. She had lost count of the times he had made her cum tonight, and the ways he had coaxed her orgasms from her.

“Anthony- Christ! Please don’t stop, want you to fuck me full til i’m round with your child-“ her voice was ragged and on the verge of giving out after not holding back a single sound. She didn’t care how pathetic she sounded begging for what seemed like the bare minimum from her husband.

Anthony leaned down to capture her lips in a messy kiss, reaching down to grab her hand that was tangled in the sheets beneath her. He caught any noises that escaped her, the sounds muffled against his own mouth, moving to hold her hand above her head. She clutched at his hand and whimpered his name as his hips stilled after a few sloppy thrusts, thick ropes coating her walls.

Anthony stayed put for a moment so as to not waste a drop, pulling his lips from hers before ghosting them over the hammering pulse in her neck. He gently maneuvered her pliable body into a resting position, slowly pulling himself from her and getting up from the bed.

After he had gently cleaned up the mess he had made of the woman, Anthony peppered soft kisses over her stomach as he made his way up to lay down next to her. She instantly curled into his chest and closed her eyes, taking her time in coming down from the cloud she was on. She could feel his fingers gently combing through her mussed hair, the sensation slowly bringing her back to earth.

“Are you alright, Lady Bridgerton?” Anthony spoke softly to not spook her, his arms locked safely around her keeping her pressed to his body. Her lips quirked into a smile and he took notice of the way her cheek dimpled, his thumb moving to stroke over the small impression.

“I am absolutely content, Lord Bridgerton.” She opened her eyes to look up at her husband’s face. Anthony smiled as he kissed her again, a kiss so tender that nearly brought tears to her eyes.

“I may not be the perfect husband, but I vow to do better by you. I will end things with Siena and tend to the parts of you that I’ve been neglectful of.” Anthony made a promise to her after he had pulled away. His wife reached up to grab his hand in hers, moving it to press a gentle kiss to his knuckles before she spoke.

“You can use all of the sweet words that you want, you’ll still have to prove yourself with actions.” She squeezed his hand gently, “But I think this has been good start.”

[predestinatos]

SENSITIVE — MV1 (18+)

pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader

summary: you wanted to see for yourself if the rumour was true. or i am obsessed with the idea of max having nipple piercings.

tags: smut, needy max, equally needy reader, they love teasing each other that's all i can say.

word count: 1.5k

minors dni!! warnings underneath ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

warnings: p in v, unprotected sex, cumming inside, dirty talk, not public sex but definetly risky

“I can’t believe I’m doing this” Max’s voice sounded both worried and excited as he locked the restroom door. You leaned against the washstand, propping yourself in a way you were almost sitting, but not quite; a teasing smile spread across your lips upon seeing his hands reach for his white shirt and unbutton it.

Pulling it out the inside of his pants, he made sure to undo all of the buttons until he fully opened the shirt, exposing his bare skin and – what you were most excited to see – his nipple piercings. Eyebrows raised, you nodded, biting your lower lip in admiration of both the visuals he was providing and the daring attitude he possessed.

“Believe me now?” he asked, tongue pushing against the inside of his cheek tauntingly. You ran a hair through your hair while answering his question, watching him getting closer to you with a grin on his lips and a fervent look in his eyes. Reaching you, he placed his hands on either side of you, his frame caging you as he looked down into your eyes.

“Is it true they make you more sensitive?” you asked with a giggle, not moving the rest of your body now, aware of the intense atmosphere you were now sharing. He chuckled with you, looking to the side as if confirming the door was indeed locked and you were safe, at least for a few minutes. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

His face was so close to yours, literally hovering above you, and you could see his chest rising and falling with every breath, glistening with slight sweat. “Are you daring me?” you raised an eyebrow at him as you saw him licking his lips at the question and lowering his gaze to your body – your dress highlighted some of your best features and left the others bare for him to explore with his hungry eyes.

Max leaned back, exposing himself to you more, an open invitation to test your theory – and one he wasn’t fully sure you’d dare to. He knew you were both being careless, that people would definitely notice your absence or eventually want to come to the bathroom themselves. He knew this, and yet he decided to pretend not to know the risks, at least for a while, at least while he could look at you, be alone with his own desire.

You stared at his body before deciding to place your palm on his chest first, noticing how his heart pulsed rapidly with the strength he was using to control himself. Looking up at him through your eyelashes, you leaned in, tongue out, before placing it on his right nipple. He shivered with the sudden touch, the warmth of your tongue exploring him, a groan escaping his lips shyly. You pulled away while giggling, the excitement of teasing him making your own body ache.

“Well, theory confirmed!” you said, patting his chest almost mockingly, watching him run a hand through his dirty blonde hair. “Don’t do this to me” he said, half serious, half smiling himself, pushing himself against you so you could feel his erection against your core. You brought your mouth close to his ear, “and why not, Max?”

Almost in defeat, he leaned his head on your shoulder. Part of you was sure he was going to beg for it, and you pulled his shirt as if in preparation for it, pulling him closer. Yet, that wasn’t what came out of his mouth. “Because you want it as much as I do” his head raising again and staring deep into your eyes.

One of his hands had now been placed on your thigh, thumb caressing it softly while the pressure he was applying on it was hard and needy. Your body vibrated with the sensations that spread across your skin, and Max crumbled completely.

Losing his control entirely, he brought his lips to yours, kissing you roughly and feverishly, as if he had been containing an urge for too long. Your body melted as you reciprocated his kiss, his tongue grazing your lips before biting you, a whimper escaping your lips as he did so.

“You like that?” he mumbled, his hips grinding against you already, anticipation travelling throughout his body. You could only murmur in affirmation as he stood back to look at you, still holding you in place by the thigh, using his other hand to lower his pants. He was aware of the fact that you both had to be quick, the shortness of your dress helping tremendously with it, his head moving to the side as if in preparation.

Working on himself, he let his hand explore your body upwards and upwards, reaching your underwear. Through it, he could already feel how wet you were, and he let his fingers softly caress your clit with a triumphant smile. “Theory confirmed” he used your previous words against you, and you threw your head back with pleasure. “Screw you” you managed to say between breaths, holding his arm in place as he sped his movements.

“If you build it, I’ll come” he replied, and the way he managed to be so cocky even in moments such as these, even though just minutes later he was groaning as you had his nipple in your mouth, just intensified your need for him. As if guessing this just from your blissed expression, Max teased your entrance with his cock, letting it rub against your clit, your underwear pushed to the side hurriedly.

“Fuck” you cursed, your body aching for him. He was feeling almost desperate himself, giving up on his attempts to steady his breath completely. However, he did not want to stop teasing you, looking at your flushed cheeks and open mouth being worth the self control he had to possess. He brough his tip to your wet pussy, sliding so well he almost crumbled completely. Your gasp of pleasure made it all worth it, and your cry of frustration as he pulled himself out drove him absolutely insane.

The way you craved him made him dizzy, intoxicated with your drunkenness of him, having you all for himself the way you were in that moment being almost a dream. You stared at his bare chest, at the metal on his nipples that made him look so sensual, made you hungry for him in all of the meanings the word could have. Max noticed you staring, and dared you to fulfill your desire once more. “You want it” he whispered, head cocked to the side in defiance.

You would do anything for him at this point, needing his body in such a carnal desire you couldn’t form a coherent though anymore. His throbbing erection was already coated in your wetness and his precum, yet he waited for your mouth before entering you.

You loved feeling the reaction his body had inside yours, how he began to completely lose himself as soon as your tongue teased his nipple, playing with it unconsciously. Your movements were frantic, yet his were rough and thrilling, having little to no rhythm in his thrusts. The unexpectedness of it had you both feverish, climax being so close.

Max’s previously closed eyes opened and were met with your reflection, his hands on your hair as he buried himself inside you, the sight driving him insane. “Fuck you feel so fucking amazing” he growled, his pace quicker. All you could do was moan his name as he now held your head against his chest, your cries filling his ears.

“You want to walk outside with my cum inside you?” he asked, the fear of the question being too much or too risky not in his head anymore, nothing else possessing him except for the pleasure of being inside you. You could only nod against his skin, but that seemed to not be enough. Pulling you by the hair with just enough strength, his thrusts not stopping despite his closeness to climax, he asked once again “you need to be clearer than that.”

“Yes, yes” you said, the words coming out beggingly and louder than you expected, his hand coming to cover your mouth in sudden consciousness of being heard. “Fuck, you want… want everyone to know… you’re mine?” Max asked, sure that your answer would drive him to his release.

Staring at your teary eyes that could barely remain open due to sheer fulfilment, he felt himself convulsing inside you. The feeling of his warm cum inside you was your tipping point, your own body shuddering against his, loud moans muffled by his hand which you kissed in gratification.

Both of you breathed heavily, him still inside you as he tried to gain the strength to pull himself out. You both knew how you looked: flushed cheeks, messy hair and swollen lips – none of it indicated anything other than We Just Had Sex. Somehow, maybe due to how lightheaded you both felt, you laughed together, but that happiness would soon disappear.

A knock sounded and both your heads shot to the door. “Hello? Is this taken?”

“Fuck” you said in unison.

[alisonsfics]

back in chicago - part 1

pairing: ex-boyfriend! carmy berzatto x reader

summary: after years in germany, you return to chicago and immediately run into your ex-boyfriend. if you thought it’d be easy jumping back into your old life, you were wrong. new people had entered carmy’s life, including a new woman, but you were still everything to him.

word count: 1.8k

part 2 / part 3 / part 4

You threw the final box into the trash pile and admired your finished room. You had just moved back to Chicago and as of five minutes ago, you were officially moved in. Your best friend, Maria, let you live with her since her roommate had just moved out.

“Last box done?” She called, from the living room. You walked down the hallway and into the living room. “I am officially unpacked,” you cheered as she applauded you.

You plopped down next to her on the couch. “You ready to celebrate your first night back in Chicago?” She asked you, raising her eyebrows.

After living in Germany for five years and teaching at a university there, you were ready to be home. You had gotten fired from your professor job and then dumped by your boyfriend, who was a German guy that you worked with at the university.

“How are we celebrating?” You asked, very intrigued. She used her hands to do a drumroll on the couch. “We are having a girls night out at a fancy restaurant and then wherever the evening takes us.” She told you.

“Oooo a fancy restaurant? How luxurious,” already mentally picking out an outfit, “what is it called?” You asked.

She pulled out a flier from behind her back and handed it to you. You ran your fingers over the glossy cover. The food in the photos looked delicious. There was a large bear logo in the middle of the flier.

You opened the flier and the giant words across the top read: “Head Chef Carmen Berzatto Presents…”

You felt your heart skip a beat. “Maria? What the fuck is this?” You asked, seeing your ex-boyfriend’s picture staring at you.

“Your old flame just opened a restaurant a few weeks ago, and I got us on the list.” She told you, excitedly. She expected you to be a lot more excited than you were. The emotions she was seeing on your face were more aligned with dread.

“We cannot go there, Maria. No way,” you protested.

“But come on, it’s Carmy,” she argued. Those words shouldn’t have been enough to convince you, but they did. Carmy was your one that got away, right guy wrong time, soulmate, whatever you wanted to call him.

You and Carmy hadn’t even been in the same room since you left for Germany and he broke things off, fearing how hard long distance would be.

“What the fuck do I wear?” You mumbled, half talking to yourself. Maria jumped up from the couch and pulled you towards your closet. “I will find you the perfect outfit.” She promised.

You sat on your bed as she sorted through your closet. “Oh, girl,” she said, freezing as she looked at a dress.

“What is it?” You asked, curiously. She spun around with the dress in her hand. “It has to be this one. It’s beautiful.” She said, in awe. You smiled to yourself as you looked at the dress. You did love the dress, and it looked fantastic on you.

It was a long maroon dress with a slit up the side. It had puff sleeves and a sweetheart neckline that fit in all the best ways.

You both spent the next few hours getting ready and singing along to your favorite songs in the process. You both knew you had to look perfect to see Carmy for the first time in five years. Maria helped you make sure your makeup was perfect, and then it was time to go.

As you walked up to the restaurant, you felt all the butterflies in your stomach. Maria took her phone out, and you both took some pictures in front of the building.

“You ready?” She asked you, fully aware of how brave you needed to be to go in there. You gave her a quick nod before you could change your mind. You both walked up to the host station, and you were face to face with Richie.

“Richie?” You asked, in shock as you noticed his suit. That was the complete opposite of the Richie you grew up with.

“You guys made it? Welcome welcome,” he said, walking over to give you both hugs. You realized that you’d probably be seeing more familiar faces than just Richie and Carmy.

“Right this way, ladies,” Richie said, guiding you both to your table. You noticed the back wall had windows into the kitchen. You quickly scanned for Carmy, but didn’t see him.

After Richie left the table, Maria noticed how nervous you looked. “Just take a deep breath. Nothing is going to happen. It’s just dinner and talking to some old friends afterwards. And it’s Carmy we’re talking about.” She reassured you. You knew she was right, but you couldn’t help the stress that maybe Carmy didn’t want to see you or was mad at you for leaving.

Richie was giddy as he headed back to the kitchen. He had been waiting all week for tonight. Maria had texted him ahead of time that you both were coming to dinner. Carmy had no idea, and Richie had been waiting to see his reaction.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sydney asked, seeing the giant smile on Richie’s face that wasn’t exactly on brand for him.

He grabbed Sydney’s hand and pulled her to the side of the kitchen. “You see that girl in the corner booth with the red dress?” He asked her. Sydney scanned the crowd for a second before finding you. She quickly nodded her head. “That’s Carmy’s ex-girlfriend.” Richie said, watching Sydney’s eyes go wide.

“Is she crazy or something?” Sydney asked, causing Richie to quickly shake his head. “No, not that kind of ex-girlfriend. She’s perfect. Her and Carmy were madly in love and shit. She got a job offer in Germany, and Carmy couldn’t handle the long distance. Her friend Maria told me they were coming, and Carmy has no idea.” Richie said, failing miserably at hiding his excitement.

“You’re so evil for this,” Sydney said, laughing. She quickly grabbed a bottle of wine and brought it out to your table. She knew Richie was meddling, but it’d be a shame if she didn’t use her front row seat to watch the chaos.

“Why are we so stuck on me and Carmy? What about you and Richie? You think I forgot about that? Him and Tiff have been divorced for a while, she’s marrying some new guy. Why haven’t you shot your shot?” You asked Maria, flipping the situation.

Back when you and Carmy were dating, you both had set Richie and Maria up on a double date. Neither of them were looking for something serious, but they were friends with benefits for a while, until Richie met Tiffany. You’d always suspected that they cared more about each other than they let on. “That is not why we’re here.” She corrected you.

Sydney walked up to your table, getting both of you to shut up immediately. “Hi, I’m Chef Sydney. Richie told me you both were family friends, so I wanted to bring out some wine for you on the house.” She said, pouring some wine into your glasses. You both introduced yourselves to her and chatted for a minute or two before she left.

“I’m going to the bathroom really quick. I’ll be right back.” You told Maria. You walked across the restaurant and went to the bathroom. On your way back to the table, you saw Carmy through the window as he called out orders around the kitchen.

You felt yourself freeze where you were. It felt like time was moving in slow motion. You memorized every single detail of how he looked. He looked the same as the last time you saw him, but also completely different. He lightly pulled on his curls, and you recognized his nervous habit. It reminded you of when Carmy asked you to be his girlfriend.

You rushed back to your table, paranoid that he would see you staring.

“You saw him, didn’t you?” Maria asked, recognizing the blush on your cheeks.

After you both had finished eating, Richie encouraged you to wait for the one last table to leave and then you could talk to everybody.

Despite trying to bail four times, Maria had made sure that you stayed. All while your pleas for Maria to talk to Richie were met with protest.

You watched the last guests leave the restaurant, and Richie walked over to your table. “Would you ladies like to follow me?” He asked, holding out his arm for Maria. You smirked at her as you noticed how flustered she got.

Richie opened the door to the kitchen and led you both inside. You didn’t see Carmy anywhere, but noticed Sydney, who looked just as excited as Richie.

Natalie rounded the corner, and you saw her eyes light up when she saw you. She ran over and pulled you into a hug. You both always assumed you’d end up as sister-in-laws and loved each other like best friends.

“Richie told me you were back in town. It’s so good to see you.” She said, smiling. Nat was one of the few people from Chicago who had gone to visit you in Germany.

“Yo, cousin. I have some people who want to talk to you.” Richie called out.

“Who is it?” You heard Carmy respond, and then he appeared in the doorway to what looked like an office.

“Holy shit,” he mumbled under his breath. He was stunned and almost paralyzed. The whole team watched as he ogled you. You were the last person he thought he’d see. He was almost convinced he’d never see you again.

“But you were…Germany and t-the university…and, you’re here?” He rambled, trying to process what was happening. His eyes raked some your body, admiring you. His gaze went back up and met yours. He never thought he’d look into your eyes again.

“She’s back in Chicago, baby,” Richie cheered, causing the whole team to laugh.

You walked towards him and held out your arms for a hug. He quickly pulled you into a tight hug. His arms wrapped around your waist just like they had a million times before. You wrapped your arms around his neck.

You both pulled away, and you could still see the shock in Carmy’s eyes. “Are you good? I-I mean, how are you?” He mumbled over his words, nervously.

“I’m really good. How are you? The restaurant is amazing.” You complimented him. Carmy’s two lives were crashing together. He had two sections of his life. He had his life before you and his life after you, and now they were blending together.

“Thank you. That means a lot. You always knew I could do it.” He said, smiling as a slideshow of your relationship played through his head.

“So, we going clubbing tonight to celebrate?” Richie asked, being met with cheers from everyone. As you turned your focus away from Richie and looked back at Carmy, you caught him checking you out again. You knew it was going to be a long night, but there was still lots you didn’t know.

Like the fact that Carmy wasn’t single anymore.

taglist: @laurakirsten0502 @miraclesoflove @nathaliabakes @millipop18 @lillyssh-tposts @shyinadarkplace @vanteguccir @missroro @guacam011y @sw33t-cupid @ice-dtae @leyannrae @sia2raw @nyx2021 @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @shyconversationalbookworm @shadowhuntyi @visenyaverse @ruzannetheseahorse @superdeath @wandaswifeyforlifey @spookyqueen @mcuswhore @princess-evans-addict @n3ssm0nique @peakascum @cjand10 @namsey1987 @supernaturalstilinski @stephv213 @warriormirkwood @one-sweet-gubler @narliesstuff @bibissparkles @stupiidfrogs @navs-bhat @mattsfavbigtitties @the-sylver-dragon

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist for all my imagines or for a specific character/fandom!!

[frenziedfireworks]

Bad Decisions

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary : You get a bit tipsy and seek out the company of the infamous fuckboy, Draco Malfoy.

CW : SMUT, 18+ Characters, Praise/Degrading kink, spitting in mouth, creampie/breeding kink, a few slaps, drunk!draco & reader, it's smut with a tiny bit of plot LMFAO, typical draco ego as well

masterlist

The lights blared as you chugged another drink. Your face felt hot and your blurry vision skimmed the crowd for white hair. You knew it was wrong and yet you had still came in hopes of seducing him. You knew his reputation and yet you really could care less.

Your eyes landed upon the infamous Slytherin and you practically drooled. His suit clung to his form and his grin made your heart flutter. He had to be yours tonight and you would stop at nothing to make that come true. Your feet walked over to him before your mind could even process.

“Draco..” You whispered and his cool eyes met yours. His friends seemed to have an amused smile as they pushed him away and continued the conversation by themselves.

“Y/N, I didn’t take you for a party-goer.” Draco’s speech slurred and you just shrugged. “Maybe I had a reason.” Draco’s eyebrow raised at the comment and his fingers came to trace your arm.

“Care to enlighten me?” His face was desperately close to yours now and you could smell the fire whiskey.

“How about I show you instead?” You gripped at his wrist and leaned in for a kiss. Draco was quick to respond, his hands yanking at your waist and the other trailing the bottom of your shirt. 

“You know I won’t be able to stop.” His grunts filled your ears as you grinded up against his erection. Your hips were sure to be bruised tomorrow with the pressure of his grip. 

“Then don’t stop.” You whispered and Draco all but groaned. He pulled you along through the crowd and out of the party. Before you knew it you were being thrown against his dorm bed.

You watched in awe as he whipped the door locked and slowly took off his shirt. His eyes never left yours as his hand messed with the zipper of his pants and he smirked.

“Tell me what you want.” You all but moaned as his trousers hit the floor and your mind fluttered with even more sinful thoughts. “I don’t have all day princess. Use your words.” Draco’s hand trailer across the bottom of your leg and you bit your lip. This is what you wanted after all.

“You.” 

Your simple words seemed to work because Draco was everywhere at once. His lips trailed down your neck as he frantically rid you of your clothes. Your hands gripped at his hair as his tongue circled your pert nipples and he smirked.

“You like that? You want more?” He bit at the flesh of your breasts as his fingers traced the hem of your panties. You were well aware of the wet spot growing and how bad you needed him in you. You bucked your hips into him and pleas started to leave your mouth.

“Draco.. Draco please. I need you so bad.” Your hands clawed at his boxers and he all but shook his head.

“So desperate. I knew you’d come to me sooner or later.” Usually his egotistical comments would rub you the wrong way but you couldn’t even care in the moment. The only thing your fuzzy brain could think about was getting railed by the man on top of you.

“J-just fuck me!” You rasped and his chuckles filled the air. He didn’t need to say anything because he actions spoke louder than any words. You felt your panties being ripped off you and watched as his cock slapped against his stomach. His eyes devoured your nude form before leaning closer. His shaft rubbed through your folds and your head flew back. You couldn’t take his teasing.

“Dray-“

“Be quiet before I shove my cock down your throat.” Draco’s hand slapped at your thigh and his tip prodded into your entrance. You felt your eyes widen as he pushed fully in, bottoming out in a delicious fashion. Your walls clenched and Draco moaned.

“Keep that up and I won’t last five minutes.” His voice was hoarse as he slowly began to pull in and out. Your body jolted as his pace got more rough and desperate and you felt any thoughts you had slipping away.

“Fuckkk.. Take it. Take it like a good girl. Knew you’d love my cock.” Draco’s hand gripped at your jaw, opening your mouth. You watched as he spat and forcibly closed your lips. “Swallow.” You did as he said, moaning as he slapped your hip and smirked. “Good fucking whore.” 

You felt the string in your stomach get tighter and tighter with each thrust. Draco’s pace became more sloppy and you knew both of you were on the verge.

“Fuck darling. C-can I cum in you?” Draco all but whispered as he chased his own high. You nodded quickly and clung to his body as his fingers rubbed at your sensitive nub. “F-fuck. I’m cumming. Take it..” Draco’s pace faltered and you felt his warm ropes of white fill you, your body finally reaching its euphoria. 

Your body relaxed against the bed and you turned to get comfortable in the sheets. Draco slid in next to you and pulled the curtains around the bed for your privacy. 

“Thanks darling. We should do that more often.” Draco’s voice cut through the silence. You rolled your eyes as you yawned. Tonight was not your best decision but you weren’t exactly denying the thought of another round. 

“I’ll think about it Malfoy.”

“I’m sure you will.”

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

oh hi big sis hru just wanted to ask for bucky making out w reader and "choking" reader? ((not really choking, just his hand on readers neck 🧜🧜 need that metal hand inside me

big sis?! AW GET OUT THATS SO CUTE!! salivating bc it’s such a delicious idea. thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

VIBRANIUM NECKLACE.

bucky barnes x fem!reader — smut/ very suggestive

word count. 592

warnings. 18+ bit of a hand kink (self indulgent? no😏don’t be silly) light ‘choking’ (basically just throat holding) mdni

Picking up on hints is something Bucky does best - his prior life as a weapon coming in handy when it came to connecting dots. 

But he didn't need his training when it came to you. Your clues were far from decreet.

He had noticed the recent liking you had taken to his vibranium arm - the longing glances, the touches, that look in your eye when he skims you with his metal fingers. 

There was something so lewd and erotic about it: the coldness of the metal when it touched your skin or just the thought of the sheer strength he could wield with it - just knowing the amount of power he could muster and still be so gentle with it around you.

He noticed it more prominently now. Standing together in the kitchen as you prepped dinner, you on Bucky's side as he chopped the ingredients. His right hand skillfully gripping the knife, his left metal hand holding a potato, keeping it still.

You were supposed to be on peeling duty, but every time you caught a glimpse of his hands, all work got delayed, consequentially leading to him having nothing to chop. So you pass him another peeled potato, watching how he brushes your fingers in the process - his hands purposefully lingering longer than they're supposed to.

Bucky's not an idiot. He could see it clear as day: the way your ears pull back, the delayed exhale in your chest, even the dilation in your pupils. He could see it all. 

You continue watching the smooth, fluid-like motion of his hands - practically ogling him as he drops the cubed produce into the saucepan. You're utterly captivated as you gawk at him, following his every move as he effortlessly glides around the kitchen - watching him place the pan onto the heat to boil.

He gives the potatoes a stir —fully aware of your stares— and turns to face you, noticing that same glimmer in your eye. He takes a step closer and presses a momentary kiss onto your lips, then pulls back, picking up on that hint of desperation across your face. 

So he leans back in, kissing you again and again until it evolves into much more than a few chaste, casual kisses. All of it progressing into something hungrier, eager - heavily making out as his lower half cages you against the counter. His cock chubbing up against your lower tummy.

He tests the waters and decides to use the one thing you've been eyeing up all evening. So he teases his left hand over your shoulder, fingers steadily skimming along until he reaches that part between your collarbone and the base of your throat - a faint, whiney moan leaving your lips in the process. The soft dulcet noise muffling into his mouth.

With your silent agreement, he snakes his palm higher - fingers itching up the sides of your throat until they settled in a light, comfortable grip just below your jaw. His grasp is faint, just merely holding your throat as he deepens the kiss, groin pushing you up against the edge of the counter.

He nips on your bottom lip before pulling away slightly, both of your chests practically heaving from the desperate makeout. He grazes his thumb over your chin, itching higher to run over your bottom lip, the pad outing it slowly - his eyes following attentively. 

"Don't you go anywhere," he whispers, pressing another kiss to your lips - moving away to attend to the bubbling pot.

[scourgeofmyownbrain]

Good fucking day, Robot enjoyers! Gaze upon the updated semi-accurate height comparison of Bumblebee across the multiverse.

This is an updated version of a chart I made a few months ago. I had gotten some feedback and then TFOne came out and I kinda had to update it. I also added a Gen 1 Optimus Prime for scale, for fun... no other reason... (edit: slight adjustment made, just corrected a slight mistake in the order)

I am also working on at least two more character charts and one universe chart, so hopefully I can finish those soon (for some fucking genius reason I decided to do the characters that show up EVERY FUCKING UNIVERSE so I'm s u f f e r i n g)

*PST! Optimus, Megatron, Shockwave, and Soundwave ones are done now*

Listed Heights, Explanations, and Justifications below the cut, bc you couldn't shut me up if you tried and I had shit to say.

Gen 1 - ~10 feet (TFwiki says greater than 3 meters so I rounded up to the first whole number because round)

Netflix Cybertron Trilogy - ~10 feet (He looks identical to Gen 1 so... the reason his photo looks weird is because I couldn't find a good full body photo with him standing straight up facing the camera so I put two images together to make the worst looking photoshop job you have ever seen)

Earth Spark - ~10 feet (There is no confirmed height yet, but using this screen shot (see below) of him standing in front of a barn door, I was able to make a reasonable guess, bc I'm so smart.)

One V1 - ~13 feet (I am well aware of what the TFWiki says: 26.429 feet. And I fully reject that number. A: These numbers are sourced from the Walmart Promotional AR Experience that came out before the movie. B: There are three decimal points, and that number does not convert into a whole number in meters (which is originally what I thought was weird about it). C: The director has said that this movie is both canon to the LA movies and its own separate canon, and Bumblebee in both sets of LA movies does not exceed 20 feet tall. Ever. So, for sanity's sake, I have used the KCV numbers as my baseline. Bee grows when he gets his t-cog so shrink this one down a few feet. Look, I'm working on the Optimus chart rn, and one of the numbers from Beast Wars on the wiki was very observably wrong, and if I can dispute numbers older than me, I can dispute numbers 2 decades younger than me from fucking Walmart. Also, yes, his picture is 3 images sandwiched together)

Animated - 13 feet 3 Inches (There is no actual given heights, but in the comments of the previous version, @phoenix-inanis told me that they had done their own analysis of TFA heights and, gonna be real with you, I am blown away by all of their work and how detailed it is. Go marvel at how much work they put in -> https://phoenix-inanis.notion.site/TFA-Height-Chart-f6ad2960ca8c4c5b859ee4958723aaa4?pvs=4 )

One V2 - ~15 Feet (Please see reasoning above. Since this is as tall as we see Bee get, he's the same height as KCV Bee. Sweet fuck, I have put way too much effort into this shit)

Knight/Capel-Verse - 15 feet (No actual numbers, but Mirage is stated to be 15 feet tall (TFWiki), and he and Bee are like the same height, so... Capel directed the ROTB movie if you're wondering why his name is there)

Bayverse V1 - 16 feet (TFWiki. This is like the first 3 movies minimum, I don't remember when he hits his growth spurt. Also mr bay is king, we have numbers for nearly every character in BV)

Cyberverse - 18 feet (I'm gonna be honest, the only info we have is from a really shitty screen shot of a magazine. SO if any one has a copy of this book from the video below, a high quality scan would be greatly appreciated and I will kiss the ground you walk upon. Yes I found the video where the screen shot comes from leave me alone)

Bayverse V2 - 18 feet (TFWiki. Movie 4-5 I can't remember which one, I'm not re-looking this up. I fucking love the bayverse tho, this is the only universe with concrete and consistent this-character-is-this-height info)

Aligned Cont. WF/FOC - 20 feet (TFWiki/Fandom. Video game info screens you godsend, kiss me sweetly)

Aligned Cont. TFP/RID15 - 21 feet (These two designs are canonically identical, like in ALC canon, Bee has not changed visually at all...Ok, yes I got this number from fandom and they give literally no source for where they got these numbers. But, I can fully believe these are accurate. Just by looking at these characters on the show I can verify these numbers in my mind. Here, let's Compare.

This is Sam compared to Bee from one of the BV movies, I'm too lazy to check which one. Sam is average size for a human and we know Bee is 16 feet tall in the first three movies. Checks out. Let's now look at a TFP Character who is also 16 feet tall.

Jack is average size for a human, and the size difference is about the same. Can you see why I can't question the Aligned heights, even if they don't have a source??!?! They specifically made this universe to be full of freakishly tall robots for some fucking reason.)

Not Pictured: Aligned Cont. Rescue Bots and Rescue Bots Academy Bumblebee - 21 Feet tall. Look, did you want to see all 5 versions of ALC Bee? No, you don't. They're all the same height anyway; the back row would have just been a wall of redundant yellow. 5 different fucking art styles in one universe, why is that one my favourite.

Here's the front row and the back row separated into their own jpgs. I know it's kind of hard to tell which Bumblebee is which when they're all together.

[disneyprincemuke]

in the name of friendly racing * fem!driver

a simple race on their scooters flips the entire paddocks upside down

pairings: liam lawson x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver, mick schumacher x fem!driver, oscar piastri x fem!driver

notes: hello everyone i know i haven't posted a vr piece and it's all because i couldn't fully grasp the fact that femdriver and logan are not together in this universe but i took a break from them and yes i'm coping well, but no i will not stop tearing up about their love story k? anyway, i think this is MID compared to other crack fics i've written but i'm trying i promise

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

she holds up the scooter in one hand, the other on her hip as she leans into the tablet in liam's hands. "what's the route again?"

"are you stupid?" logan asks.

"no, do you want to not join us?" she asks quickly, lifting her head to glare at the american across her. she darts her arm out and shoves logan back. "i'll disqualify you right here, right now. you wanna spend your afternoon in your driver's room like a loser like the rest of them?"

"he sent it to the group chat, how can you still not know the route?" logan scoffs, narrowing his eyes down into a glare.

"i'm just making sure!"

"relax," liam mutters, holding a hand up in an attempt to break up the fight that he's sure would happen if he doesn't interfere. "i'll disqualify you both."

"just tell me the route," mick sighs, shaking his head. he steps forward and tilts his head to try and get a look at the screen under the scorching sun above them. "no cheating, okay?"

logan huffs. "tell that to her."

she throws her head back and rolls her eyes. "god, logan!" she winds her arm back and darts an arm out to grab logan's sweatshirt. she bundles it up into her hands and tries to yank logan towards her.

"okay!" mick cries out, grabbing her wrist and pulling her away from logan. he carefully, finger by finger, removes her hand from grasping his sweatshirt and pushes her back. he then guides logan two steps away. "the race hasn't even started yet!"

oscar pops his head between the girl and liam. "are you sure you should be doing this?"

"of course," liam mutters, glancing at oscar. "why are you here? i thought you didn't want anything to do with us if we went through with this?"

"yeah, but i'm curious. so i know which places to avoid - i wouldn't want to get run over by road rager over here," he gestures to her and then at logan, "and mr. beating-(y/n)-is-my-life's-mission over there."

"she can't possibly be beating me at every single thing!" logan cries, throwing his arms in the air, and pointing over at her.

"sore loser!"

"okay, so we're starting here," liam points at where they're standing. "we start at williams."

"are you guys going to the pitlane?" oscar questions.

"no, are you crazy? do you want somebody to kill us?" mick scoffs. "i'd get my scooter rights taken away from me!"

"yeah," liam agrees with a nod. he throws oscar a judgemental stare, absolutely bewildered at the thought that they would be racing at the area where literal cars could be driving out. he looks back down at the ipad. "anyway."

"we zip between the racing homes," logan mutters, tracing the map of the paddocks that they'd pulled up from the internet. "and then we make a round around the interview table and the finish line is back here. don't forget to zip through the racing homes again."

"exactly," liam nods. "everyone aware of the rules?"

"you guys had the time to come up with rules?" oscar laughs. "seriously?"

"no shortcuts," mick says, turning his head to look at the younger girl. he grabs her wrist. "have you got your watch on so we can track the route everyone takes for the race?"

"yes. i'm a fair racer, above all," she scowls, retracting her arm from mick. "and we stop for everyone who calls us, yes? especially the fans."

"easy," logan nods, a smirk stretching his lips. "suddenly i'm kind of thankful nobody really likes me."

"what? don't say that," she grunts. "i like you. we like you."

"break it up, lovebirds. we are not friends, we're competitors," liam mutters. "you guys got the glasses (y/n) stole from seb's office?"

"i didn't steal them. we're borrowing them!" she rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. "don't break them - seb doesn't know i took them from his office."

"oh, i'm pretty sure charles would have let you borrow his if you asked," oscar whispers. when she turns her head to glare at him, oscar lifts his arms up to surrender. "but, you know. what do i know?"

"well i'm not sponsored by rayban - my glasses aren't here yet. i get when everybody else gets them," she frowns. "and, i don't wanna bother charles. it's okay."

"so you snuck into seb's office instead."

"it's not sneaking in if the door was wide open," she laughs, rolling her eyes. "duh?"

"ah, is that why you needed me to keep a lookout in the hallway?" logan says.

"shut up. i'm going to beat you," she mutters, pointing at logan with a threatening finger.

"okay, so are we clear about the rules?" liam puts the ipad down and looks around. "we've literally tried to make it as foolproof as possible. there's no way you guys can find ways to cheat, right?" he turns to her. "right?"

"i don't know why you keep looking at me - i'm a fair racer! you should be asking mick if he's going to be honest about this one!"

"why me? isn't logan desperate to keep the paper mache cup that we made three nights ago?"

"in my defence, i still believe i should keep it even if i lose because i worked on it the entire night. all you fuckers did was play overcooked and scream at each other in mick's hotel room."

"okay, shut up and race," oscar mutters, flailing his arms in the air to dismiss their huddle. "are you guys ready? can i start the race for you?"

"for someone who doesn't want to be a part of this, you sure are pushy," she mutters, turning on her heel to hop onto her scooter. "are we ready? apple watches and rayban glasses on?"

she takes the sunglasses that have been resting on the collar of her blouse and puts it on. she turns to her left and points at logan. "i'm gonna crush you."

logan pushes the sunglasses up his nose, looking ahead and doesn't spare her another glance. "sure."

"okay, okay," oscar cheers, clapping his hands. he reaches into his back pocket and reveals a red handkerchief. "turned your scooters on? everybody got their smart watches and smart glasses on?"

"start the race, cunt!"

oscar's lip twitches. "anyway. be safe, you guys. we have a race this weekend."

"i don't," mick smiles. "stay safe, though."

"start the race before i do it myself, bitch!"

"liam, shut the fuck up!" she shrieks, stepping off her scooter momentarily to whack him on the arm.

"god!" liam screams, his arm darting out to whack her as a response. "the race is going to start and you're not going to-"

"go!" oscar shouts, waving the handkerchief into the air. he darts to the side to get out of their way with a giggle.

almost immediately, logan and mick have already pulled back their handles, darting away from the williams racing home. she shrieks and shoves liam, causing him to lose his balance slightly, hops onto her scooter and drives away.

"oh, liam!" a deep voice calls. "i've been looking for you everywhere!"

"fuck's sake," liam sighs, shaking his head as he turns to see christian walking up to him. but he smiles as he is approached by the team principal. "yeah, christian?"

up ahead, she frowns to herself as she watches mick and logan racing head to head. there's no way to catch up to them on these scooters - it's simply not like an f1 car. she can only bank on the fact that someone, somehow, will stop them to give her some sort of window to pass them.

with the little number of people in the paddocks on a wednesday for the weekend proves that they should have done this early in the afternoon on friday. there could have been more obstacles and distractions for them.

if only the boys had listened to her.

she shrieks when she sees george flagging mick down ahead of the alpine racing home, forcing mick to come to slow stop. she screeches loudly when she passes mick, her hair being blown back by the wind and speed she's going at.

"thanks, george!" she screams, momentarily waving at the brit as she passes the mercedes pair. she can see logan ahead of her, speeding and manoeuvring around the crowd flawlessly by the ferrari home.

surely, somebody will recognise him and pull him to a stop, right? if nobody does, she can only hope that alex is somewhere in the paddocks wondering where his rookie has gone.

the race, objectively, is going fine for her. logan was momentarily stopped by a williams engineer. she passes them screeching, also thanking the nameless woman and waving at logan smugly as she accelerates her scooter.

when she does that, her eyes widen when she sees mick also passing logan. she has no idea where liam has gone, or if christian has even let him go from their conversation at the back of the paddocks.

she does get stopped, once, by susie who stops her to ask her a question. it was a simple question that she easily had the answer to and susie let her off in seconds. she excitedly presses a kiss on the older woman's cheek and quickly accelerates away, shocked that mick is suddenly riding next to her.

behind them is logan trailing shortly, and liam's conversation with christian is actually short. so behind logan is liam, held back by a couple of seconds only.

it's just that christian had overheard them whispering earlier that day about their race and he had lurked by the williams racing home to mess with his driver.

she, unfortunately, does get stopped another time, by a fan that was being brought around for a tour of the paddocks ahead of the race weekend. she grumbled under her breath when the three boys passed her: mick mimicking her shrill screech, logan passing her with his fingers in an 'L' shape, then liam simply ignoring her.

the race is short. suddenly they're all at the final stretch, now circled back at the ferrari racing home as they aim to make it to the finish line where oscar sits in a plastic chair, hunched over as he texts his girlfriend.

she screeches when she sees mick come to a stop right by the aston martin home. it's then questionable when she sees logan stop, and then liam. and suddenly she's getting flagged down by liam.

she rolls her eyes and ignores them, clearly being sore losers that she is now destined to win their little race. she goes right past them, slowing down slightly since it seems that she is the only competitor left in the race.

"(y/n)!" she hears a familiar accent. her eyes widen as she looks back, seeing sebastian with his hands on his hips, surrounded by her friends with the guiltiest expressions on their faces.

it all happens very fast. she had all intentions to slow down and go back to where they were, but she hadn't seen the rock up ahead.

if only she'd been looking ahead.

the front wheel of her scooter is caught against the stone, sending both her and the vehicle flying forward. "fuck!" she screams, her arms stretching out to try and break the fall.

"oh, my god!"

"that's going to hurt."

"are you stupid?"

"are you okay?"

she stays in her spot for a couple of seconds as she tries to digest the events of what just happened to her. one second, she had been on her scooter, the next she's knelt on the ground with her hands planted into the ground.

then it hits her: all of the pain from her fall.

she removes her hands from the ground and blinks rapidly, allowing the blood to seep from her now wounded palms. she feels it in her knees, surely scraping her favourite pair of pants when she had skidded against the floor. one of sebastian's pair of raybans is strewn not too far from her on the ground.

her scooter is ahead of her, which oscar is now bent over and pushing it upright.

she looks up, meeting logan's eyes with a hand over his mouth.

"it's not funny!"

"it's a little funny," logan shrugs before he bends down to meet her. "are you okay?"

tears immediately well in her eyes. she stretches out her hands and shows logan her injured palms. "i hurt my hands!"

"we can see that." mick is the next to kneel next to her, taking her hands into his. he moves her hands about and tries to assess her wounds. "we should get you back to your room and treat these."

"where are my glasses, you fucking- seriously, (y/n)?" she hears sebastian mutter. she lifts her head and watches sebastian pick up the pair from the ground and turn to her. "seriously? a race on the scooter i had to beg to get you?"

"it was liam's idea!" she cries, wiping her eye on the sleeve of her blouse. "he challenged me!"

"it was premeditated!" liam screams in an attempt to defend himself. "she said we would race once you got her scooter approved!"

"shut the fuck up!" she screeches, reaching out to push liam. "i told you not to tell on me!"

"okay, enough fighting," oscar sighs. he bends over and is the only one to think that she should not let her wounds be against the dirty ground for too long. "come on, let's get you all patched up."

"but my knees!" she cries, sniffling as she looks down at her scraped jeans. there's a small hole on both of her knees, the edges seeped with blood and small matching wounds on either. "i can't-"

"enough crying, drama queen," logan mutters, already hunched over and tapping his shoulders. "i'll carry you back. stop crying."

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @vellicore @leilanixx @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @cashtons-wife @sadg3 @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts @inejismywife @meadhgbcavanagh @2bormaybenot @love4lando

[ash-says]

Things to be aware of as a Hopeless Romantic:

We all have been there daydreaming about the perfect man, the perfect life, the perfect whatever,etc. Still life is not full of roses and thorns are inevitable.

So here are some aspects to look out for according to me so that you won't fall in the delulu is the only solulu trap.

Remember if you follow me, we don't do regrets here. We accept, take accountability and move on. We don't soak ourselves in problems. We solve them effectively.

1) Drop those rose-colored glasses. Crush them under your feet and now look at the world again. Learn to accept reality. It is what it is. Not what you make it out to be. Learn to become an observer of your life from time to time. It will give you the real picture.

2) Potential is useless if you are not leveraging it. It's a trap both for yourself and others. You see potential in him of changing and being a good guy?? Girl, he *IS* not a good guy. It's not your job to raise a man. It's embarrassing. Stop babysitting grown men.

3) Standards are important but ensure they are not rooted in fantasy. Let's be honest finding a man who is rich, dark, tall, sexy and talks in the way you read in your romance novels is difficult. I am not saying it's impossible but don't be too rigid. All I will say is make sure you are also on the level where if you come across such a man he should be ready to date you.

4) Men view sex differently than us women. I know many of you will get triggered after reading this but the majority of men really view women as sex dolls. Blame the porn industry maybe. Good men exist but not every other man who talks sweetly is good.

5) A person in your life treats you nicely. Always talk sweetly, tells you that you matter to them but their actions don't match it. Chances are you are being breadcrumbed. Plans being cancelled? Messages being unseen? But when confronted all you get is,"Sorry love, I was busy. I was going to do it. You matter a lot,etc etc." Breadcrumbing. Be smart it can happen even in friendships too. I understand people get busier with time and things do happen. Use your discernment to see who really is busy and who is faking to be busy.

6) That uncle was so kind to me. He talked to me sweetly and always tried to help me out. Now, that's really sweet of him. Next he calls you home to help out with the household chores and he is alone at home because his wife is out of town for some work. Would you go and help? Yes. Will you go alone? No. That's unsafe.

No matter how much a gentleman a man appears to be you are not allowed to be in a situation where he could potentially take advantage of you. You always bring along a friend or deny it. I know it's wrong to not help someone but at your own risk. No. Never. It's common knowledge in our society.

7) Dreaming of a Prince Charming to whisk you away from all your troubles??? Dream on. The idea that a soulmate or one person will magically solve all our issues is dumb. We as human beings add to each other's happiness rather than becoming the core of it.

8) One of the biggest mistakes I have seen girls around me make is of being fully invested in a relationship to the point one small fight makes them depressed. That's codependency. It's unhealthy.

9) Never make your relationship your identity. You should always have a separate identity out of it. Stop curating yourself for your partners. Morphing yourself according to their likes and dislikes. That's one way ticket to an identity crisis after breakup. Compromises are essential but changing your core self??? Crazy shit.

10) Your relationship should not be the reason for your downfall. It happens especially with my intense girlies we invest so much of ourselves in the relationship to the point it becomes our focal point and when it faces upheavals we are devastated. The mental distress starts flowing in other areas of your life and suddenly your grades are falling, your career seems unstable, etc. Develop the emotional strength to compartmentalize your emotions and not allow them to overflow in other areas and affect them.

Imagination is fertile but being delusional is being stuck in a swamp.

That's all for today's show on ash-says. Stay tuned for more illegal tricks and explosive opinions.

[astraystayyh]

seungmin taking off his mask brainrot. allusion to sex but no smut. still mdni.

honestly i struggled with tagging this, because it's not smut but also not fluff either hshshs enemies to fwb??? anyways i hope this reaches its target audience,, enjoy <33 (lowercase intended)

seungmin is an asshole.

you don't like him. he's always around, nagging you, throwing unnecessary comments your way about every little thing you do or say. if it were solely up to you, you wouldn't talk to him ever again. but he's jeongin's best friend, who also happens to be your best friend, so seeing him is inevitable.

he's there sipping on his iced americano, wispy bangs falling in front of his brown eyes, fixated on you. he's there sitting across of you in the campus garden, hitting your leg repeatedly with his foot. he's there at jeongin's dorm, who also happens to be his roommate, strolling around shirtless with no care in the world.

he's infuriating, everything about him makes you mad. from the way he smiles proudly when he sees that he's getting on your nerves, to the way he leans his face onto yours, faking interest in whatever you are saying.

seungmin is an asshole, and to your surprise, he's here to pick you up.

you know it's him, from the red converse he is wearing, and his familiar black leather jacket. you can also tell from the hands gripping the handles of the motorcycle. they aren't clad with rings, so it can't be jeongin. the friend who was actually supposed to pick you up.

you half debate staying home, cursing jeongin in your brain for forcing you to spend more time with seungmin. but you really wanted to go to that party chan is hosting. you needed the free alcohol, badly.

so you huff, as seungmin takes his sweet time parking, mentally preparing to curse him too. but the words die in your throat as soon as he removes his helmet.

he has caramel colored hair now.

he slides off the motorcycle, running an easy hand through his hair. it looks soft, and you wonder what it smells like. citrus, maybe, or pinewood. he then leans onto his engine, smirking at you slightly. you roll your eyes, taking one step forward towards him.

"i think you're obsessed with me."

"yeah? why is that?" he smiles, tilting his head to the side, his arms now crossed in front of his chest.

"you just had to pick me up right. couldn't stand being away from me that badly?"

"correct." he doesn't deny and you huff, grabbing the second helmet and putting it on.

"let's make this as short as possible."

"my pleasure," he bows slightly and you bite your lip, trying to suppress the tiniest smile from coming out. you really liked his hair, it made his honeyed eyes stand out more.

he gets on first, and you follow suit. you were used to riding with jeongin but this is your first time doing it with seungmin. you hesitate for a couple of seconds, before wrapping your arms loosely around his waist.

"hold tight," he tells you, adding a soft "please" after a few silent beats. you oblige, and then he takes off with no further warning.

the drive is short, and you can't seem to focus on anything but the warmth emanating from seungmin's body. you are hyper aware of your thighs pressing against his, and his broad back snug against your chest. it feels intimate, for some odd reason, and you almost close your eyes to fully savor it. almost.

when you arrive, you're quick to hop off, handing your helmet to seungmin. he takes it from you silently, before removing his own too.

strands of his hair stay upwards and you debate internally for a second, before reaching to smooth them down.

you were right, his hair is incredibly soft to the touch.

"you look pretty," he says. and he sounds sincere- different from how he usually speaks to you.

"thank you," you reply quietly, " i like your new hair."

"really? I'm not sure if it suits me," he admits, running a hand through it self-consciously. it felt weird, to see him anything but confident and boastful.

"it does. what shampoo do you use?"

"i don't know. something citrusy, i think."

"figured."

....

your naked chest is pressed to seungmin's, limbs so tangled you can no longer tell where your body ends and his begins.

you didn't exactly plan on ending up here tonight, you weren't even sure how this happened. you just couldn't take your eyes off seungmin's hair, and then his eyes landed on your lips and suddenly he was leading you to the nearest bedroom.

but you don't mind, not when seungmin looks this way. the light is dim and dark shadows reflect on his face. there is a sheen layer of perspiration on his upperbrow, and you imagine you must look the same. sweaty and slightly dazed, a pink hue adorning your cheeks.

seungmin traces your lips with his thumb, going over your cupid bow ever so slowly. it makes shivers run down your spine, and you huddle closer to him. as close as you physically could anyways, since you were practically glued to him.

"had i known this would happen i would've died my hair sooner," he smirks cheekily and that brings you to his hair again. you run your hand through its soft locks gently. a stark contrast to how hard you were tugging them moments ago.

"mm, it's all because of this caramel color," you smile back, its citrusy scent wafting to your nose. "i really like your shampoo."

"are you turned on by scents?" he jokes and you swat his arm, leaning a bit away from him.

"it just smells nice. sue me."

"it's okay, you smell nice too," he chuckles, burying his nose in the crook of your neck. you appreciate it. it makes you feel less weird about how affected you are by him.

"i... i told jeongin that i wanted to pick you up," he mumbles onto your skin and you feel yourself tense slightly. "why?"

"wanted to see you first," he says quietly, pressing a soft kiss to your collarbone. it makes you dizzy. you don't find him infuriating any more.

"let's talk about this later," you finally reply, pulling him away from you.

"mm. what do you want to do now?" he smiles, grazing your naked arm with the back of his hand.

you straddle his lap, swiping his bangs away from his forehead. that damned hair of his.

"you."

[chaosandmarigolds]

Coco!! Stop talking about old-

I LOVE HIM

Anyway..

Sorry but John Price, who is undoubtedly the most father coded person, would also be the coolest uncle ever to your nieces and nephews

It would be just a normal dinner with your sisters family, you going on the late summer night with your fiancé. Course you were ready for the ‘isn’t he like…dads age?’ From your sister and a few off the handle remarks from your brother in law, even the kids- Nora, 8, and Coby, 5 - would find a way to a remark. Of that you would have no doubt

And unsurprisingly the air was a bit tense right off the bat, John would press a kiss to the top of your head before Adam would whisk him away to the grill outback

You would get a few smart words from you sister as you helped her set the table

‘He’s really nice, Joan.’ Your words would fail on deaf ears.

‘Course he’s nice! He grew up in the fifties.’

…‘80’s.’

‘THATS BETTER HOW???’

Meanwhile Adam would be making small talk about military things he knew nothing about, and John would nod and smile, correcting him only if he said something utterly absurd

Nora would come over with her ball, trying to get Adam to play and he would said he couldn’t after all he’s talking to ‘Uncle John’

So she would turn to John-

“Wanna play?”

“What’s the game?”

“…run away from Coby and don’t let him have the ball.” Nora replied with a little shrug.

John looks to Adam and then back to the little girl, only to then see Coby right behind her- who promptly snatched the red plastic ball and took off running across the yard.

To that the little girl gasps and looks back up at John, figuring it a loss cause before taking off after her little brother.

‘Adam!’ You open the sliding door to step onto the patio, eyes narrowing against the summer sun and you look to him, “Joan said she’s ready-where’s John?”

Adam gave you a look, “Playing fortress with the kids.”

After wandering around for a few minutes you found the treehouse a few hundred feet away and you find him hoisting the five year old into the dumbwaiter-esk lift, Nora in the little cabin peering out the window.

“You gotta-uncle John you gotta make me go SUUUUPER high.”

“Super high? Can’t think I can lad, but I’ll get ya up to your sister.”

You watch for a minute, fully aware John knew you were there, before speaking, “Dinners ready.”

“NOOOO.”

“Auntie-Auntie can you,” Nora says from her spot, “Can you tell my mom later?”

“Aw, Nor,” you say as you catch the little boy as he jumps down from the ledge, “Your mom wants everyone to come eat.”

“But-but I’m playing.”

“Nora-“

“Lassie cmon down, we’ll finish up after yeah?” John would call out from the bottom of the ladder and somehow the stubborn little girl would relent, climbing down before happily being carried via piggy back.

All in all, for the few remarks your sister made during dinner and then the small talk that followed you would consider that a win.

Until weekend babysitting became a thing because Nora and Cody wouldn’t accept anyone else.

“We might as just have have kids, save us time on driving.” You laugh to your joke after you drop the two kids off back home. However after the long moment of silence you look to him.

“We could.”

“Yeah…yeah we could.”

“Mm, we should.”

“Agreed.”

(….idk yall I’m just yapping. Anyyyyway lemme know if you want more John price stuff)

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

A Night Forgotten

Part Three

It’s getting more intense 😈

On top of her earlier worries, now Emoni had an even bigger dilemma to contend with: her boss/secret crush was fully awake...and back to his usual mocking self.

Joy.

What was she going to do now? Her options seemed limited to throwing on her clothes lickety-split and pulling a runner or grabbing the sheet, wrapping it around herself, and demanding he—

The toilet flushed, the tap ran for a moment, and then Erik was standing in the open doorway, drying his hands on a towel. With a quick up and down glance, he took her in from head to toe, and a slow, devastating smile crawled up his cheek. "Well, well. It seems I finally got something right between us, my precious Emoni. It's about fucking time."

Emoni dashed across the room and tore the bedding from the mattress, wrapping the soft, cool satin around her naked body.

“A-ha! So, you don't remember what you did to me last night!" she stated, somewhat miffed by the thought.

Surely it hadn't been that bad a lay...had it?

She tossed him a baleful eye.

“Months of trying to get me on a date, months of both our friends hammering away at me to give you a chance, months of putting up with that humiliating interdepartmental betting pool regarding you and my panties...and you can't even remember fucking me, can you?" She made a pftttt sound and crossed her arms in righteous indignation. "Wow, Erik!"

He laughed. "What a little hypocrite you are, Princess, since it appears you're in the same boat I am...figuratively and literally speaking," he countered, crossing his bulging arms and leaning against the bathroom doorpost. "You can't recall a damn thing about last night, either, can you? Can you?"

Her whole body flushed with sexual awareness and her nipples went instantly hard as Erik challenged her.

How was it that this same defiant behaviour during their formative school days had made her itch to cut his balls off and feed it to him back then, but a dozen years later, now it only made her want to lick him all over instead?

It had to have something to do with the long, attractive package currently swinging between his legs, because as he moved, lounging so sexily in the bathroom doorway, she suddenly found herself staring at it with an eager and lusty appreciation. Gahdamn! it was beautiful! And long…and thick…and—Whatever.

She blinked and forcibly turned away, her cheeks burning. "Will you please put some clothes on so we can talk?" she requested. "You're...distracting."

The Prince actually chuckled at that. "Am I really? Well, then I'll have to politely decline, baby girl. I'm enjoying redirecting your attention towards other more profitable thoughts."

She clucked her tongue in annoyance. "You're arrogance is through the roof about all of this."

"This isn't conceit, Emoni. This is contentment."

"It certainly sounds to me as if your ego is doing all the talking today."

"Well, it's not."

She turned back and cast a cynical expression in his direction. "Then, you’re telling me you’re not happy to swagger and strut around because you finally had sex with me after all these years of trying every line in your playbook to stick your dick in me?!”

He stared hard at her. "No, I'm not. I am, however, feeling a sudden urge to spank that ass. Care to step up and volunteer?" He actually growled then. "And for your information, baby girl, I don’t need a playbook, it comes natural. Who's the arrogant one again?"

“How am I the arrogant one!?” She shouted defensively.

“Well,” Erik started counting off on his fingers, “You find every moment to announce how I’ve been chasing after you all this time. You do it as if you’ve been playing this game of making me wait—

She huffed, he sniffed.

"So, we’re gonna stand here and act like you haven’t been wanting a nigga for a while now? Come on, ma. I can see right through you. It sucks you gotta play games when I could have shown you some things.”

He sounded a bit sulky at that.

Emoni glanced at him sideways. Erik truly looked upset by her accusations, which told her more than his words ever could. Perhaps whatever had happened between them the night before hadn't been pre-planned by him, and he hadn't been responsible for her memory gaps, after all.

“Okay…so…nothing?” She questioned.

“Nothing—well…I can remember us dancing. I remember how I dragged you to the dance floor and we Had a ball,” Erik smirked at the fuzzy memory, “You were….all over me. It was definitely the drinks because you would never do no shit like that sober, but…your ex was PISSED. We shared a drink…”

Erik blinked rapidly a few times then his thick, unruly brows snapped together. He drew a blank.

“That’s…wow—that’s exactly what I remember last as well…what the fuck?”

“Weird, right?” Erik said.

Which left Emoni wondering how in hell it was she could ever have forgotten making love to him, because that had been an event she'd ached for and dreamed of for years. That she couldn't remember anything significant at all in the aftermath was not just a maddening mystery, but also terribly disappointing to her as well. With his own memory of the night apparently lost, too, now she'd never be able to know how it had been between them. Had they connected body-to-body, soul-to-soul as she'd always fantasized, or had it been merely about sating sexual hungers and agreeing to move on? That knowledge was lost forever, it seemed, and that made her heavyhearted.

Clearing her throat, she figured she might as well attempt some civility, since he didn't appear to be at fault, if she was properly reading the signs.

“Right. So...what now?"

He shrugged. "We go back to bed."

She tightened the sheets around her with a twist of her hand, unsure if that idea wasn't the worst one in the history of co-worker one-offs and deserved an argument or if she should just give into the temptation and make a whole new set of epic mistakes today with Erik—this time, memorable ones. Decisions, decisions...

"And why would we do that?" she asked, trying to buy herself some time to come up with a third alternative.

Erik frowned at that. "To sleep. Maybe to fuck again later, once we're both more rested... Why are you so skittish all of the sudden?”

Because you're gloriously naked and suck-able, she thought, and I really want to run my mouth all over you this instant.

"Because I'm understandably nervous right now," she said instead, feeling her palms grow slick with a feverish need to touch him.

As if he'd discarded her words in favour of listening in on her more honest thoughts and impulses instead, he rewarded her with a slow, wicked smile. "Is that so?" he asked, his voice thick with lusty insinuation.

He shifted then, and it took all of Emoni’s willpower to keep her eyes from drifting downwards to seek out the slight movement between his legs again. No way was she getting caught in that mesmerizing action twice.

“Yes, I just said," she reiterated, fanning herself with a hand and wondering if it were possible to spontaneously combust.

Noting her distress, Erik’s teasing waned. "Why?

A third alternative suddenly presented itself: rationally discussing the matter to death. That's what Emoni did best, after all. "Because regardless of the fact that we've each experienced a disturbing loss of memories of the last twelve or so hours, we're both cognizant that some level of physical intimacy passed between us last night," she pointed out, switching into 'professional mode'. "Our relationship, therefore, has evolved and requires us to come to some form of an agreement and an arrangement as to its future."

"Agreement? Arrangement?" He almost sounded offended, “You're starting to sound like a wife looking for a pre-nup, Moni." He jerked his chin towards her bellybutton, and the piercing that lay just beneath the sheets that covered it. "Was that diamond chandelier in your navel not enough for you? Or do you need a bigger declaration of my intentions? I suppose I can get you a ring for your finger to match, if you want.”

She tsked at him for joking at a time like this. "I'm talking about our working relationship, you asshole! What we did here last night...this is going to alter that dynamic, like it or not."

He raised an eyebrow at that. "Why does it have to, though?”

Unbelievable! Could he not see that everything had changed?

Pushing off from the wall, he approached her, "It was about time it did, too! All this time trying to get your attention the old-fashioned way was getting me nowhere with you. Derek and Natalie were right—you needed me to act, not attempt to manipulate you into making the first move,” Reaching out, he tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "I needed to change, my Emoni, or we were never getting here."

She rubbed at her achy temple. "Do you realise you always refer to me so possessively? Why do you do that? We're not even officially dating, but you talk about me as if I'm your significant other.” She argued.

The idea irritated her, because in truth, she'd wanted him to think of her in such a manner—had for a long time now—but Erik had always been impossible to pin down. Like a male butterfly, he'd always liked his freedom...and his women. Not that she'd been totally celibate over the years, but she couldn't boast near the number of partners he'd put to bed. And all along, even when he was with those other women, he'd shamelessly flirted with her, tossing out provocative innuendo or joking propositions that always ended in her scolding or itching to slap him, and invariably nursing a sore heart. It bothered her now that he would continue to play this game with her, especially as they'd obviously crossed a line last night.

"Where's my damn phone?" she asked, too tired to attempt looking for it.

Erik tore his eyes away from her and he scanned the room until he found her hand bag tossed on the floor beneath a lounge chair in his room. He took long strides to grab her bag and then he crossed over to her. He handed it to her and watched her open it, a relieved sigh escaping her mouth as she pulled it out. She checked the time and it was very late in the afternoon. No one had called her or texted. She went to her photos and there were over fifty pictures she’d taken.

She frowned at that. This could help.

"You're welcome," he said, looking at her.

"Oh, uh, thanks," she stammered after the fact, staring at her photo gallery, “But, um...I have a bunch of photos of us…do you?" She asked, "Is that karaoke?! Wait—a tattoo parlor?!!! Little White Chapel?!!! What the fuck?!"

Erik was silent for a long while in the face of that revelation, so she glanced up at him to find out why.

He was staring...no, glaring at her chest. The sheet had fallen and her titties were exposed. Deep brown areolas and thick, pointed nipples against tawny skin.

"Take that sheet off, Emoni," he demanded with a primal look in his eye, "Do it right now."

[tojirights]

tags: 18+ SMUT, MDNI, drug use, unprotected sex, creampie, choking, casual hookup

toji had been your dealer consistently for quite a while now, and you were well aware of his reputation. you always did your best to not go visit him alone, knowing damn well you'd let him persuade you into falling into bed with him.

but you were insanely bored and had the weekend off so you were in need of some more bud. unfortunately, everyone and their mother seemed to be busy so you suck it up and plan to meet with toji alone. when you pull up to his door, which you also knew was a bad idea, he opens the door with a smirk. “hey sweet thing.” he speaks, already making you feel weak in the knees. “by yourself tonight?” toji raises an eyebrow, seeing just you and your purse. with a sigh, you nod. "yeah everyone bailed on me this weekend. just me, some takeout and shitty movies." you say with a small laugh.

the way toji's eyes scan your body makes a pit form in your stomach. he clicks his tongue and shakes his head. "mh, can't let that happen. come in, why dontcha?" he steps aside, gesturing for you to enter. you hesistate, pulling your lip between your teeth. "i uhh... i shouldn't. not really looking to end up on the news tonight." you tease, watching as toji's eyes falter before he laughs. "i like you, kid. c'mon, i got some bud rolled and ready. on me tonight."

free weed? now you may be dumb but you're not an idiot.

against your better judgement, you accept his invite in. his place was... cleaner than expected... but the smell of the freshly ground weed hit your nose immediately and you let yourself relax. what's the worst that could happen, huh? toji wouldn't kill you or anything, right?

right?

sitting down on his rather comfortable couch, you look at the rolling tray with three blunts ready to be smoked. "as my guest, you have first dibs." toji says, placing himself next to you on the cushion. there's enough space where you aren't feeling suffocated by his presence, but you're fully aware of his body heat.

with a shaky hand, you make your choice and make no hesitation to spark up. your nerves start to settle after a few minutes, smoke flowing around you after your first hit. toji watches diligently, a smirk growing on his face as he watches your muscles stop tensing. "good shit huh?" he asks, taking his first hit. you sit back with your eyes closed, taking in the effects.

you supress a cough as the second hit burns your throat, and that shit hurt but you won't let toji think you can't take a hit so you do your best to suck up the pain. "fuck." you cough, unable to hold it and toji just chuckles. you didn't even see him light up the other joint, but he's already somehow burned through more than you. as the pain resides, you're overwhelmed with the euphoric feeling that you've come to rely on.

toji's still respecting your space, but it somehow feels like the room has shrunk and all you can think about is how close his knee is to yours. your body heat starts to spike, a telltale sign of arousal starting to burn in your gut and you beg it not to show. you're no stranger to bud putting you in the mood, but now is not the time.

"holdin' up alright doll?" toji hums, breaking you from your trance. "h-hm? oh yeah." you fumble your words as you turn to face him. your brain chemisty must be fucked, because the moment your eyes meet his, your self restraint all but snaps. "fuck... toji, i-i..." you sound like an idiot, and your cheeks burn with embarrassment. you try to hide it with an awkward laugh, but it gets lost in your throat when toji's hand rests on your cheek and captures your lips in his.

you would like to say you pulled away and slapped him right across the face, but you instead immediately crawl into his lap. strong hands wrap around your waist to grip the fat of your ass, earning a groan from toji. "y'been dreamin' of this, haven't you baby girl?" toji uses his grip to basically force you to grind on his quickly hardening cock, making you whimper against his lips.

'never fuck your dealer'

your number one rule is quickly disappearing as your hands desperately tug at the hem of toji's shirt, the sudden need to see him unclothed, taking over your senses. he does the same to you, removing your top and expertly unhooking your bra from behind your back. "you clean?" toji pants between kisses, lifting his hips so he can free his cock. you nod, doing the same just a little clumsier. "and on the pill." your response almost makes toji laugh, but he can't help but to find those simple little words so sexy.

there wasn't much more hesitation after you both cleared eachother, your leggings barely making it off your ankles before you feel the head of toji's cock slipping into your needy pussy. you brace for the push in, knowing damn well that toji's cock is bigger than any you've taken in the past. you whine with every hard inch of cock that spreads you open, hearing the squelching sound your pussy only makes after months of not getting fucked properly.

"fuckin' hell kid..." toji groans as his cock forces its way in, all the way until your ass hits his thighs. you're shaking as you try to accommodate not only the length, but the girth of toji's cock. reaching behind you, you grab the last joint off the table and light up, taking as big of an inhale as you can. before you can exhale, toji's grabbing your jaw and pulling your face to his so that you have no choice but to blow the smoke right into his mouth.

you pause now, sitting in toji's lap with his cock pressing snugly against your cervix. it's almost too much, your head spinning as the weed takes over your senses once more. toji takes the still lit joint and takes his own hit before doing the same and blowing it down your throat this time.

and when toji senses your hesitation to keep moving on his cock, he doesn't waste another moment in reaching around to grab a handful of ass, slowly bouncing you up and down on his shaft. "w-wait toji-" you gasp, hands on his chest to brace yourself but toji only gives you a second to breathe before he's lifting you higher and fucking up into you with a harsh pace.

"see? y'didn't need me to wait, sweetheart." toji coos, his grip tightening to keep you lifted so his cock meets no resistance. "your pussy was made for taking cock." he grunts, taking the still burning joint from your hands to blow more smoke in your face. your thighs shake as you keep yourself balanced, each deep stroke of his cock has you seeing stars as intoxication takes over. every nerve in your body screams with pleasure as toji fucks into you relentlessly.

"o-oh fuck toji." you whine, eyes screwed shut as the coil in your gut threatens to snap at any moment. toji's quick to flip your position, flinging you onto your back as he now looms on top of you. "wanna feel y'cum on my cock." he breathes in your ear, hitching one of your legs up around his waist. "s-so close." you mewl, back arching off the leather couch as toji's cock hits you just right. your cunt clenches around his length, waves of pleasure just about to crash over you and-

your eyes widen as toji's hand wraps around your throat, just enough pressure to make your head dizzier than it already was. "ooh yes that's a pretty baby." toji moans, hips stuttering as his own orgasm quickly approaches. you gasp for air as toji's hand tightens just a bit, and that's enough to push you over the edge. your legs spasm as you cunt squeezes toji's cock. wave after wave crashes into you, and toji doesn't relent his brutal pace.

if anything, he quickens his thrusts. "good fuckin' girl." he sighs, letting your pussy milk the cum from his balls. as toji cums, you feel it fill you from within, so much that it starts to leak down his length and onto the couch as he pulls out. you try your best to hold it in, not make a mess on his furniture, but his seed slides right down your inner thigh and mixes with your own juices to make quite a mess.

"o-oh god i'm so sorry-" you're immediately embarrassed and try to pull your panties back on to stop it from leaking but toji pulls you onto his lap and reaches for the end of the blunt. you whine as you feel the sticky seed leaking onto toji's pants. "sorry?" he cocks a brow, hands finding their way back to your ass again. "the only thing you should be sorry for is that now i need to keep givin' you free weed." he says with a chuckle. "i keep good pussy well taken care of." he whispers in your ear, earning a shudder that runs down your spine.

fuck...

never sleep with your deal. unless maybe he's hot.

[candy69gurl]

Bound by Ropes Love

Sub Gojo Satoru x dom f!reader

Warnings- 18+, dark, reverse consensual (m!sub+f!dom), mentions of breakup, bondage, m!nipple biting & playing, dick squeezing, blow job, cum play, m!teasing & begging, m!harassment, use of threats, clit rubbing, cum squirt on face (male), use of nicknames, mutliple orgasms, raw sex (cumming inside), face sitting, cum eating wc - 4k requested by anon ART NOT MINE !

Satoru saunters up to Utahime, smirking mischievously as she rolls her eyes at his approach. She leans back against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest. "What do you want, Satoru? I'm busy."

Undeterred, Satoru props himself up against the opposite wall, leaning closer to her until their faces are mere inches apart. His eyes sparkle with playful intent. "Oh, come on, Utahime," Satoru drawls, that same devilish grin never leaving his face. "I wasn't expecting such a cold welcome from someone as warm and lovely as you. Can't a guy just say hi without getting the icy treatment?"

Satoru chuckles softly, shaking his head at her protest, before continuing his flirtatious banter. "Alright, alright, no need to be so defensive. But look at me, Utahime. You know you enjoy these little interactions between us. Admit it."

He leans even closer, their lips almost touching, and whispers, "You'd miss it if I stopped, wouldn't you?" His eyes locked on hers, daring her to object. Utahime scoffs, trying to hide her discomfort behind a forced laugh. "Like I would ever miss your constant flirting, Gojo. You're relentless."

But even as she speaks, her cheeks flush a light pink, a clear indication that Satoru's words have affected her. Her gaze flickers away from his, unable to meet those vibrant blue eyes directly.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TWO DOING !", you yell, your voice echoing in the hallway.

Gojo Satoru and you have been dating for about six months, and everyone is aware of this. Yet, Gojo has a terrible inclination of flirting with others. It upsets you greatly.

You walk into the hallway, startling both Satoru and Utahime, who are engaged in a heated flirtation. They separate immediately, catching you off guard. What the hell are they doing? Your voice rings out sharply, revealing your emotions.

Utahime meets your gaze, guilt flashing across her face for a brief moment. Satoru, though, remains nonchalant. Pushing his sunglasses up his nose, he offers you a casual wave.

As you step closer, Utahime seems to sense danger and quickly excuses herself, slipping away from the scene before you can react. You turn your attention fully to Satoru, who now stands alone in the hallway with you.

"Well, well, what brings you here?" He asks, still maintaining his cool demeanor. His eyes gleam with a hint of defiance, challenging you to say something. You clench your fists, anger bubbling inside.

"I could ask you the same thing," you snap back, taking a step closer to him.

Before you can react, Satoru attempts to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you close. His proximity makes your heart race, but you stiffen in resistance.

"Don't you dare," you hiss through gritted teeth, pushing against his chest to keep some distance between you two. For a moment, the tension between you is palpable. Your eyes lock, his vibrant blue irises meeting your own. In them, you see a mixture of defiance and challenge, daring you to push further. The tension in the air is thick enough to cut with a knife. His attempt to pull you close stirs a whirlwind of emotions within you. You feel conflicted - between anger at his blatant disregard for your feelings and attraction to this man who continues to toy with your heartstrings.

For a moment, it seems like neither of you will back down. But then, finally, Satoru releases a sigh and takes a step back. "I apologize if I went too far," he says, his voice a low rumble that sends chills down your spine. "But you know how I am." There's a hint of playfulness in his voice, as if he's trying to lighten the mood after such a tense encounter.

"We are breaking up", you hear yourself saying the words, feeling every ounce of them ring true. A heaviness settles in the pit of your stomach, causing your knees to shake slightly. Seeing the shock wash over Satoru's face, you notice the smile fading away from his face. His eyes widen, and for a moment, he seems genuinely taken aback.

"Breaking up?" he repeats, disbelief tinging his voice. "Baby, please I am sorry"

"I mean it," you say firmly, standing your ground. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over. You swallow hard, trying to regain control of your emotions. "I can't do this anymore, Satoru. You don't love me, you fucking don't"

His eyes soften, and for a split second, he looks pained. But thenhe shakes his head, a determined glint entering his eyes. "No, no, you're wrong. I do love you, more than you know."

"Love me?!" you scoff, almost laughing at the absurdity of the statement. "How can you love me when you are flirting around with others. I've seen you doing the same with Mei Mei last week."

Satoru's lips thin into a tight line, his expression hardening. "It was just a friendly conversation," he insists, defensive undertones creeping into his voice. "You know that wasn't anything more than that."

"And I'm supposed to believe you? When I fucking saw you with my own eyes" you say incredulously, shaking your head. "I can't do this anymore, Satoru. You need to learn to control your urges if you want to be in a real relationship."

"Fine, fine please I am sorry, it won't happen again."He sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair, seeming frustrated with himself and the situation. "I know, babygirl, you're right. I was stupid," he admits, meeting your gaze earnestly. "I never meant for this to end up like this. I never wanted to hurt you, I swear," he pleads, reaching for your hand.

You withdraw your hand. "No we are done", you already forgave him but you want to make him suffer for what he did.

The sting of rejection flashes across Satoru's features, and he watches as you pull your hand away, the warmth of his grasp replaced by cold air. Tension coils between them, thick enough to cut with a knife. The realization hits him that he has lost you, and it stings worse than any curse ever could - because unlike those, this loss is permanent.

"Please? I'll do anything.. Please babygirl?" he murmurs softly, his voice a mix of desperation andpleading.

You try to hide an upcoming smirk on your face, "Oh really anything?"

Satoru notes the smirk on your face and his eyes narrow slightly, suspicion flickering in their depths. "Anything," he confirms, crossing his arms over his chest. "Name it."

You watch him, enjoying the game you've started. He's so used to being in control and having the upper hand, and seeing him on edge, unsure, is oddly satisfying. It feels good to finally hold some power over him.

"You mean anything physically too?", your mind racing with the evil ideas.

Satoru raises an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across his face. "What do you have in mind, my little butterfly? You know I'm always up for a challenge." His voice drips with playfulness, but there's no mistaking the heat beneath the surface, the promise of pleasure and pain mingling temptingly.

"Tonight at my place , I'll test my dearest boyfriend's love for me", you chuckle darkly.

"Test me, huh?" Satoru chuckles, the sound low and husky. "I'm intrigued, darling. I accept the challenge. Tonight, then." He winks, the mischief in his eyes undeniable as he leans closer, brushing a feather-light kiss against your temple before sauntering away, confidence oozing from every pore. The kiss sends shivers down your spine, leaving your body tingling in its wake. As Satoru walks away, you can feel the heat rise inside you, anticipation building.

You nod, feeling a strange sense of power over the situation. Tonight will be different, and you're excited to see how far he's willing to go for you.

You wait for Satoru, your nerves a jumbled mess of excitement and anxiety. Anticipation bubbles in your chest as you hear the doorbell ring. Taking a deep breath, you answer the door, and Satoru stands before you, looking every inch the charming playboy you fell for.

"Hello, darling," he greets, a devilish glint.

"Go straight to my bedroom", as soon as you gesture for him to follow, Satoru's eyes light up with understanding. He doesn't question your request, simply going to your bedroom, while you follow him.

The tension in the room is palpable, electric even. He takes in the preparations you've made, raising an eyebrow, but he says nothing, waiting for you to lead the way. The air is heavy with unspoken words, both of you aware that things are different tonight.

"Take off your clothes," you command, your voice steadier than you expected. Satoru's eyes widening slightly at your directness, slowly, he undresses, his muscles rippling under his pale skin. When he's finally standing before you, with only his boxers on, your heart skips a beat at the sight of him. His eyes never leave yours, a challenge burning in their depths. You swallow hard, trying to keep your composure.

"Now what, love?" he asks, his voice a sultry.

"On the bed, Satoru," you instruct, your voice steady despite the tremors in your knees. Surprisingly, he doesn't argue. Moving to the bed, he lies down obediently, eyes locked on you as you begin to strip down. Nerves threaten to consume you, but you push them aside. One by one, you remove your clothes until you're left in just your underwear.

Your heart races, but you force yourself to maintain eye contact with him as you walk towards the bed. "Spread your legs," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. There's a newfound power in these words, in this moment, and it thrills you. Satoru complies without hesitation, his eyes never leaving you as you move closer. Your hands shake slightly as you reach for the ropes you prepared earlier.

"Do you think you can handle me, Satoru?" you ask, your voice rough with desire and nervousness. "Or will you beg me to stop?"

Satoru's eyes gleam at your question, his chest rising and falling rapidly with the exertion of restraint. "Never," he growls, his tone determined and full of promise. "I trust you, my butterfly. Show me what you've got."

The warmth in his eyes fuels your courage, and you waste no time in binding his hands above his head, securing them firmly to the bed frame. His breathing quickens, and the satisfaction you feel at his submission is heady. You run your fingers through his hair, enjoying the softness of it, the contrast between his silken strands and his rock-hard body.

"Now," you say, a boldness creeping into your voice. With a wolfish smile, you straddle his hips, grinding your hips slowly against his erection. The sensation is exhilarating, the power dynamic shifting in a way that makes your blood rush. You moan softly at the feel of him against you, your panties dampening with your arousal. Leaning down, you trail kisses along his collarbone, his skin warm and smooth under your lips.

His breath hitches, and you can hear the rapid beating of his heart, pounding in sync with your own. As you reach his nipple, you gently bite it, drawing a gasp from him. He arches beneath you, and you feel a rush of triumph. The taste of his skin is salty, the sensation electrifying. Switching sides, you repeat the process, leaving no part of his chest untouched. His skin is perfect against your mouth, and your senses are on fire.

As you finish with his second nipple, you lean back, gazing into his eyes as you watch his reaction to your every move. They're filled with lust and desire, a testament to your growing confidence. A sly grin tugs at the corner of your lips as you take his nipple between your teeth once more, eliciting a sharp intake of air from him. You tease him, sucking lightly and releasing, repeating the process until he's squirming beneath you.

"S-stop doing that with my nipples", he rasps, his voice thick with need. You hum in approval, leaning down to nibble on the sensitive bud again.

"Is that a plea, Satoru? Or a demand?" you ask, your voice low and seductive. You trace a finger down his flat abdomen, feeling theplayful. "You know, I could keep doing this all night if I wanted to. Would you like that?"

His struggles become more pronounced, his hips bucking in need of friction. "No, please... Stop..." he groans, the word sounding more like a plea than a command. You chuckle darkly, loving the effect you're having on him.

"Such contradictions from you, Satoru. Such need." You pinch his nipple gently, twisting it slightly, and he cries out, his hips bucking wildly. "Oh, the strongest man mewling like crazy," you bite your lip, seductively.

His cock brushing against your wet panties, the friction driving him wild. His chest rises and falls rapidly, his skin flushed with passion.

"What do you want, Satoru?" you ask, your voice sultry and demanding. "Do you want me to release you and ravish you like my dear little pet, or should I continue torturing you with my mouth?" His eyes flicker between desperation and defiance, the struggle clear in his gaze.

"Take.. me, please," he finally concedes, the words rushed and desperate. You smirk at his surrender, leaning down to kiss him passionately. Your tongues dance, your hands roaming over his body, exploring every inch of his muscles. Your heart is pounding, the scent of his skin intoxicating.

Slowly, you take out his rock like dick, from his boxers, yanking it off. You pull away from the passionate kiss, reaching down to grasp his cock firmly. He winces at the abrupt change, his eyes widening in anticipation. A wicked glint appears in yours, enjoying the power dynamic that's shifted. Gently, you squeeze his shaft, eliciting a choked gasp from him. His body trembles under your grip, his breath hitching in surprise.

"Aww" you taunt, your voice dripping with mockery. His eyes lock onto yours, pleading for mercy.

"Just... Just stop, please," he whispers hoarsely, his body tense with discomfort. You chuckle darkly, tightening your grip further.

"Already begging me to stop? Didn't you tell me you will be able to take this?" You question mockingly, your gaze intense.

His breath hitches, his gaze darting to the ceiling as he tries to find some semblance of control.

"You love how much I push the limits, Satoru. Admit it," you challenge, squeezing his shaft again, the tension between you palpable.

"Please let me cum, Y/N, I beg of you", he begs. Your grip tightens, his breath hitching in pain.

"Only when I say so, mister," you respond coldly, your voice holding no remorse.

He writhes beneath you, his muscles clenching with each squeeze. His eyes plead for mercy, but you remain relentless. Your thumb rubs over the head of his cock, teasing him mercilessly.

You lean down, your lips brushing against the tip of his cock, letting the precum coat your lower lip before pulling back. You give his cock a few firm pumps, letting him savor the pleasure before you engulf his length in your mouth. Your tongue swirls over the head, your lips working up and down his shaft. His breath hitches, his head tossing back as you suck him off. He bucks his hips upward, seeking more contact, but you hold him down firmly.

As you tease him, you hear his ragged breaths echo in the room. The tip of your tongue flicks over his sensitive spot, drawing a groan from him. His hips jerk erratically, trying to push deeper into your mouth. You slow down, taking him completely in your mouth, sucking him gently. His breathing becomes more labored, his hands gripping the sheets tightly.

Slowly, you pick up the pace, bobbing your head rhythmically. You feel him growing more rigid under your touch, his moans filling the air. As he nears his climax, you pull back, leaving just the tip of his cock in your mouth.

With a strangled cry, he comes in your mouth, his release pouring forth. You take his cum in your mouth and force his mouth open with your two fingers, letting the cum spill onto his tongue. He gasps, his eyes wide with shock and lust. Your hand cups his jaw, forcing him to swallows hastily, his gaze locked with yours.

"That's for pushing me too far," you murmur, a smirk playing on your lips. "Now, we'll see if you learn your lesson."

With a wicked smile, you peel off your panties, revealing your wetness to him. He watches hungrily, his eyes never leaving your pussy. You start grinding on him, rubbing against his spent cock. His hands tugging against the ropes. He moans softly, his voice indicating his need to be inside you.

His cock responds to your movements, hardening once more. You continue your slow, sensuous dance.

You increase the intensity of your thrusts, your clit grinding against his cock. His hips buck wildly, struggling against the restraints, but he remains trapped. You watch as his expression twists between pain and pleasure, his cheeks flushed. Sensing that he's about to climax again, you lean forward, hovering above him.

With a final press of your clit against his cock, you send him over the edge. Cum arcs upwards, splattering across his cheek, staining his handsome face. A low growl escapes his throat as he glares up at you, a mix of frustration and lust burning in his eyes. You laugh softly, leaning in to kiss him gently.

"I wonder how Utahime and Mei-Mei will react after seeing the strongest man so vulnerable under my feet," smirking, you lift one leg, placing your foot on his chest before bringing it down hard on his still-softening cock. He winces, but you can tell he enjoys the sensation. It brings his cock back to half-mast, and your eyes gleam with victory.

"Getting hard again? Insatiable" You tease, your toes lightly tracing the underside of his shaft. He grunts, nodding weakly.

"Shall I sent them a photo of you like this ?"

He shakes his head, a hint of fear in his eyes. "Don't...please," he whispers, his voice hoarse. You chuckle and climb off him, sitting beside him.

"Beg me", you grin evily.

He swallows hard, his eyes pleading. "Please, don't send it. Please, don't humiliate me like that."

You lean closer, his manly scent enveloping you. "Do you want me to stop here?"

His eyes flicker to your feet, then back to your face. "No, please, don't stop. I want to be inside you," he begs, desperation clear in his voice. You run your finger along his jaw

With a satisfied hum, you climb back on top of him, positioning yourself over his hardened cock.

As you slide down, you feel his cock stretch you, filling you completely. He lets out a low groan, his body trembling. Your nails dig into his chest, your movement deliberate and unhurried.

"Please, untie me..." he begs, his voice raspy.

You smirk, "no not till I cum."

He grits his teeth, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard. "Please, they hurt," he whispers, his voice filled with longing. You lean down, brushing your lips against his ear.

"Take the pain if you love me."

His breathing hitches, his eyes locked on yours. With a nod, he agrees. You pick up your pace, your body slamming against his. He strains against the ropes, his muscles bulging. You could see the effort in his face, feeling his need for release.

His thrusts become frantic, his cock hitting your g-spot with every movement. You cry out, your orgasm building rapidly. But just as you're about to reach the peak, he releases inside you. His cock pulses, spilling hot liquid deep within you. The feeling sends shockwaves through you, but you don't cum.

He pants heavily, his eyes watering, back arching and finally falling on the bed. "Sorry, I couldn't hold back..."

"I didn't get to cum, thanks to you asshole", you pout angrily at him.

His drool dripping down his chin; he calms himself down.

"Ride my face, sugar," he commands, his eyes begging for forgiveness.

You straddle his face, his tongue sliding through your folds, his eyes fixated on your pussy. He tastes himself mixed with your sweet nectar. You gasp, your hand tangling in his hair, guiding his tongue deeper.

"Swallow everything you find," you command, your hips rocking. He obeys, his tongue darting in and out, his nose taking in your scent. His eyes lock onto your slickened entrance, his gaze intense. You groan, your core tightening as he flicks his tongue against your clit. Suddenly, you explode, your orgasm washing over you. Wave after wave crashes through you, your body quivering. He sucks harder, swallowing every drop of your release.

Once you've calmed down, you slide off his face, collapsing next to him. You trace your fingers over his ropes, slowly undoing them. As he rubs his wrists, you wrap your arms around him.

"Thank you" he murmurs, his voice muffled against your chest.

"For what?" you question, your arms tightening.

"For driving me insane, for making me realize my feelings for you..."

You smile, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

"Love you"

He returns the gesture, hugging you tighter.

"I love you too, sweetheart," he whispers, his breath warm against your skin.

Slowly, his breathing evens out, his muscles relaxing. A sense of peace washes over you, and soon, you drift off to sleep, too.

Together, secure in each other's arms, your bond strengthened, knowing that you both found something precious in each other - genuine love, affection, and connection. In the warmth of his embrace, you understand that sometimes, the most unexpected events can bring forth the most meaningful relationships.