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silantryoo · 2 months ago

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ENCHANTED [ WRITTEN ] — a nice day

the first meeting

WARNINGS: implications of stalking, mild self-objectification, implied trauma (2.4k)

y/n knew what she was doing was incredibly stupid.

she wasn't born with the cautiousness that alluded her mom. she was just as reckless, if not more. y/n could've changed her last name when her mom gave her the chance to, but she chose to wear it like a badge instead. she could've moved to the states with her uncle like he wanted, but she chose to stay right here with her mom.

she knew she was reckless, she knew she was stupid.

y/n had to be, considering she wanted to be in the industry that stole her mom away.

"what am i doing...?"

y/n looked at herself in the mirror. her eyes, dark and dull, swirled with their usual anxiety and fear as if anticipating the worst. she felt it all over her body - her head and chest heavy.

there were only two outcomes to this: kazuha was actually an idol that looked like moomin, or kazuha was a thirty-year-old man trying to catch a scoop on her mother.

(y/n didn't know why, but the possibility of kazuha being kazuha made it worth the risk.)

"mom is gonna kill me."

she was pathetic.

it was funny actually. being stood up by a stranger shouldn't have hurt as much as being stood up by her mom, but y/n could feel her lungs closing in on themselves as she waited.

each moment she waited, she felt like she was wilting. like a cold, harsh winter had taken refuge inside her, never settling down. the air she breathed was frost, and her delicate lungs were always on the verge of collapsing.

y/n looked at her phone. kazuha (or whoever it was) was twenty minutes late.

"i'm gonna kick minji's ass."

maybe it was a sign from the universe, that she needed to haul her ass out of there that instant. perhaps the adorably bright-eyed idol she thought was real was actually just a loser reporter with a microphone shoved up their ass and a notebook in hand.

y/n fiddled with her mask, the hot air hitting her eyes.

she's not upset that kazuha probably ditched her. no, of course not. kazuha was an idol, and if she knew anything about them, they were always in it for money and fame. granted, her friends were almost all idols and weren't like that but still.

she wasn't upset, really.

the breeze blew a bit too hard, the trees rustling in the wind as leaves tumbled pathetically onto the ground. y/n could hear the soft chirping of a bird around her, drowned out by the cars. the sun hid like everything in her life did, yet today, it still gave her the comfort she needed.

it was a nice day to be disappointed.

"y/n?" the voice was pretty, soft like snow, but warm like a fireplace. "you're y/n, right?"

a strong grip, one from trained hands.

y/n opened her eyes, her head tilting up to look at the woman in front of her.

the woman had a smile drawn like the cartoons, big and expressive and apologetic. she seemed out of breath, her hair tousled and cheeks flushed like she had been running. and her eyes...

she does look like moomin.

"kazuha?"

kazuha perked up at the sound of her name. she felt a cold shiver run along her spine, like a chilly gust of wind during fall.

"yeah, uh, sorry i'm so late!" kazuha cleared her throat as best as she could, trying not to sound too out of breath. "my unnie was helping me get dressed, then my other members came in and started using me as a barbie doll. i actually almost came with this really weird hat that looked like an angry bird."

plain dark eyes stared back into kazuha's. the idol could barely see them, hidden behind the shadow of her baseball cap.

actually, kazuha waited to approach her for a couple minutes, unsure that this random girl dressed in all black with a cap and mask on was actually the one she was supposed to meet.

the idol looked her over once more, ignoring the inkling of disappointment at not being able to see her entire face.

(she'd still brag to the rest of le sserafim - mostly chaewon - that y/n did exist.)

silence took over the two still strangers(?), the sound of the wind and the singular bird in the distance filling the empty space. the sun begins to shine a bit brighter, the sound of cars approaching in the distance.

kazuha takes another look at the shorter girl in front of her.

"why are you dressed as batman?"

"huh?"

kazuha froze, not meaning to say the words she just said.

sakura had told her to not let yunjin be near her before her meet-up with y/n. she had a tendency to copy their mannerisms when she was nervous, and the more she was exposed to it...

the wind blew harder.

"nothing." her ears rang as her cheeks burned. "never mind."

kazuha was definitely gonna explode once she got back to her dorms. she'd probably get chaewon to use a fire extinguisher on her, or maybe eunchae to dump a bag of ice on her head. hopefully, they wouldn't make too much fun of her for mentioning something nerdy on her date.

wait, this isn't even a date.

the idol looked at the sky, the rays blinding her. in that moment, she wished to be a leaf, blown away to (hopefully) a different continent. somewhere like japan would be nice, that way she could run to her parents and talk about the atrocious not-date she had that lasted five minutes. her dad would probably make her onigiri with too much rice in it like usual. speaking of rice, she needed to remind chaewon to stop eating all of her-

"were you talking about...?" y/n pointed to her mask, kazuha's eyes snapping back onto the girl in front of her. "oh, this is just a precaution."

it was the least y/n could do, considering she put her mom's career in danger again.

"oh." thoughts swirled inside kazuha's head, a long list of possibilities, both out of reach and self-deprecating. "for what?"

the two stared at each other, waiting for an answer to be spoken. yet, as reckless as the young kwon was, she wasn't stupid. sure, she met up with a random person on the internet that she met three weeks ago. maybe she did it because she thought the random girl claiming to be an idol was cute. and yeah, she did meet this stranger in a secluded park but regardless.

a secret was something you'd take to the grave.

y/n cleared her throat, a twisted sort of guilt stirring in her chest.

"let's go get food."

she walked off, the clouds following her every step along with the idol beside her. her legs moved as if they had a purpose, yet the only thing on her mind was who her blood belonged to.

it belonged to the kwon's, for one. her grandparents, her uncles, her mom. she was their little flower, their princess. the prized possession hidden from sight, enough to be valued but never to be spoken of. she wasn't the black sheep by any means, but more like a dog in a wolf pack.

then, there was the media. dispatch and sbs and whatever news outlet was out there with her description. to them, kwon y/n was a rumor, the headline of the biggest scandal of the kpop industry. her blood was ivory to them - a rare, heafty bounty with fame to spare.

y/n wondered what it would be like to belong to herself, or at least to someone who wouldn't hide her.

"you're prettier in real life." kazuha spoke, looking at the ground with her lips pursed.

this was awkward. the last ten minutes were filled with the sounds of daytime seoul - honking cars and mindless chatter around them. it gave kazuha ample time to check out look at the younger girl beside her, like one of yunjin's creepy dates from the stories she told.

"you can barely see me."

"i mean, yeah, but like..." kazuha hoped she wasn't being creepy. "y'know?"

y/n nodded, going back to whatever she was thinking before.

kazuha knew she should've brought her '100 jokes in korean' book. she didn't get half of the jokes in them - granted, she didn't get half the jokes she knew in her mother tongue - but as long as y/n was having a good time, kazuha knew she would too.

if only chaewon didn't confiscate it...

"so, uh..." kazuha cleared her throat. "you go to hanlim?"

the shorter girl stopped in her tracks, looking at the idol. her blood froze in her veins like a cold tundra had washed over her being.

"...how do you know that?"

her tone was thin and sharp, a blade ready to cut into the nearest enemy. y/n's eyes now gleamed with hostility, her plain irises now alert like a cat.

"in the photo." kazuha didn't know what was going on, but she was sure she messed up just now. "the photo you sent to me? your blazer. uh, the crest?"

the idol's hands moved around flimsily, drawing a square-like shape near her chest.

oh.

y/n was an idiot.

"i thought i covered that."

but then again, y/n was too busy trying to find a good-looking picture of her. considering that jinsol and hana kept taking photos of her annoying the shit out of jungwon, it was safe to say that her options were limited.

"you didn't."

the two continued to walk, the air feeling light through y/n's chest. her fingers buzzed with the knowledge that kazuha knew more than y/n wanted her to, running up her arm and sitting on her throat like poorly tightened tie.

her mom was going to ground her for the rest of eternity, if she found out, of course.

"are you okay?" kazuha's voice stumbled in her ears, clumsy yet caring. "uh, you look like you're gonna pass out."

"yeah, i'm fine." the younger girl took a breath, the light breeze carrying the smell of freshly grown petals.

y/n's head snapped towards the scent, her eyes zeroing in on the stand. mismatched bouquets littered the wooden shelves, mostly pastels, yet all eye-catching.

"you like flowers?"

"yeah." y/n didn't realize she was walking towards the stand until she was face to face with a pretty pink flower. "my mom, she would give me the ones she got all the time."

her hand moved on its own, gripping an out-of-place flower from the rest of the tulips. it looked weirdly valuable, its stem delicately wrapped in parchment paper and its petals free of dust. on the front, a sticker of '₩80000' was pinned neatly.

y/n took a sniff, the soft alluring scent nothing like she smelt before.

it was different from the roses and tulips and carnations, like a lone blackbird in a sea of swans.

"what does it smell like?"

kazuha leaned over slightly, her shadow blocking the bright sun just enough to shield y/n.

y/n hummed, rubbing the petals between the pads of her fingers.

"peaches."

the younger girl held the flower up for kazuha to take in, the idol's eyes wide with hesitation. the leaves and debris tumbled beneath them, the wind blowing strong for a moment before calming down.

kazuha leaned her head lower.

peaches.

"you two better not wreck that flower!" the two jolted up, y/n rushing to it back. "do you know how expensive that is?!"

kazuha stared wide-eyed, suddenly stiff like a tree.

a couple months after she debuted, she had already gotten in trouble? surely, this would be a scandal, and all the hard work she and the rest of the girls did would be overturned.

beside her, y/n stared at the broken stem.

"oh shit."

the old woman walked closer, her eyes burning as her precious (and overpriced, y/n thought) flower was no longer its usual pristine self. it had snapped under the pressure y/n had given it.

but she wasn't gonna pay more eighty thousand won for a single flower.

y/n grabbed kazuha's wrist.

"run."

the woman got closer, grabbing what seemed to be a rolled-up wad of newspaper.

"maybe we should apologiz–"

it wasn't the first time y/n got an ajumma mad.

"run!"

kazuha prided herself on being athletic. aside from being an idol, the japanese girl had a strict regimen that she had perfected during her years of ballet. it took blood, sweat, and tears to perfect, and not once did she doubt her abilities, not even next to the almost equally versed huh yunjin.

still, she had never needed to outrun the media.

the taller girl could feel herself being dragged along as the loud cussing of the older woman faded behind them. she could barely keep up, if not the wind pushing them along.

was this how birds felt like? she thought.

the two stopped minutes after, nowhere near where the area they agreed to meet up on, and even further from the ajumma then they had realized.

as she stared at the idol, y/n could feel hot air radiating around her.

"i'm gonna get in trouble with management." kazuha managed to puff out, her chest heaving and her hair tousled like before.

"yeah," y/n dropped her mask down to her chin, taking in the air. "you are."

pretty...

the leaves around them rustled, breeze picking up to cool the two off. kazuha could feel her skin losing heat, but her thoughts ran like a hamster on a wheel, thinking about all the possible outcomes from that encounter.

it was probably fine, the general public had no clue who le sserafim was, much less kazuha, that other japanese girl next to the miyawaki sakura.

she was fine, she was-

y/n laughed.

"sorry, sorry!" she couldn't help it. the way kazuha's face twisted in worry was so animated that it made her imagine the older girl as moomin. "just give me a sec."

kazuha broke out into a grin as the pretty girl in front of her laughed and laughed, the ice-cold tension melting off of her in the rays of the sun. the birds chirped in the distance, the lack of honking near them making it loud enough to register in her ears.

it was a nice day today.

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taglist (CLOSED)!

@sewiouslyz @gfriendsapple @zhivaxo @forever-in-the-sky2 @perfectsunlight @txtbrainrot @hopeworld45 @jisooftme @nkahydnxo @uzumakioden @hyp3boy @sweet-dhrafts @marimo-anura @awkwardtoafault @kyaitosz @eggomi @cine-cult @mits-vi @bzeus28 @woonie57 @lcv3lies @vvyuqi @sofakingwoso @pandafuriosa60 @444yizhuo @blue4hour @junoswrlld @jihyostolemyheart @isanggayfrog

#nakamura kazuha x reader #kazuha x reader #kazuha imagines #nakamura kazuha #le sserafim x reader #lesserafim x reader #lesserafim imagines #le sserafim imagines #idol imagines #idol x reader #kpop x reader #kpop imagines

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pxuvalentinx · 9 months ago

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Atta girl ✧ High Noon Yone x fem!reader tw: degradation, creampie, abuse (i think??), spanking, forced breeding, dub con (if theres anything else let me know<3) an: i wrote this a while ago when hn yone got first leaked, so if any new lore dropped - i wouldn't know. ✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . You swore to yourself that you’d kill every single one of those damn devils — without a single exception. You promised to avenge all the poor souls that got killed by those who made a pact with a devil. Not only that, but you’d give your life to free the west from its curse. It was the least you could do after failing so miserably to save others. So why were you bent over the saloon counter while a man rutted into you? Why were you moaning and whining his name? The name of a man who had made a pact with a devil. Bounty hunter Yone. Such an ironic title when you consider that there’s a high bounty on him as well. He hated devils, too — more than anything. His hatred took him so far that he became one of them. And god, you were thankful for it. Your thoughts were clearly getting manipulated by your tight cunt that was squeezing around his girth so deliciously that it made him growl into your ear. He wasn’t even trying to be quiet — the saloon might’ve been empty, but he wanted everyone to hear that walked by, how he was fucking this once so proud and snobbery woman into his little bitch. How she slowly became his dumb slut. Yone’s hands were on your hips as he thrusted into you from behind, pressing his pelvis against your ass while he leaned forward to whisper sweet nothings into your ear. One hand wandered up your throat, grabbing your chin with it and pulling your head back. His lips were barely two inches away from yours — “Aren’t ya just so pathetic?” He purred. “Just half an hour ago ya were soooo confident about killin’ me, tellin’ me how much ya hated ‘my kind’, how selfish I am, and now… You’re soakin’ and suckin’ in my cock like it’s ya’s life purpose.” The low growl in his voice was making your walls flutter around his dick. You hated to admit how good this felt. His hands were cold, freezing even. They sent shivers down your spine with every touch. He had this frightening and overwhelming aura that seemed to become more distinct with every thrust. His hand let go of your face after he saw the tears roll down your cheeks, proud of his work. From the corner of your eye, you could see his cocky grin.

squeeze

“Oh, fuck…!” He cursed. “Makes you this horny? Nasty bitch. Gon’ teach ya a lesson… Make…Ah~ ya regret facin’ me.” Your walls kept pulsating around his cock, massaging all of it like your cunt was made for him. It was driving him crazy, low grunts escaping his throat.

He spread your ass cheeks with his two broad hands - one gloved. Groans of satisfaction as he looked at the sight. Letting go of one and giving it a hard smack right after, leaving a stinging pain which made you whine out. Music to his ears. Another smack.

And another.

“That ass already looked good in those tight ass jeans ya were wearin’ - but I didn’t expect it to look this good without ‘em” He could feel himself getting harder at the sight, growing even bigger inside of you. “Gon’ make you ride me next time. Want to see that pretty ass bounce on my fat cock. Better show me how much of a cowgirl ya truly are.”

You turned your face to him, where he was already looking at you with the same cocky smile he had before. The pale skin in combination with his flaming orange eyes made your heart skip a beat. You never thought you’d think of a devil as handsome. Tears were streaming down your face as he continued to abuse your cunt to the best of his abilities.

Yasuo warned you of him — No, everyone warned you of him, but you didn’t want to listen. You were so confident in being able to defeat him, in being able to get one step closer to peace in the west. And here you were, squirming underneath him, sobbing because his cock just hits all the right spots too damn good, begging him to fuck you harder, to abuse your cunt just a little more because in reality you were a pathetic masochist, who loved that he treated you like a piece of fuck meat. You were begging him to fill you up with his hot seed, to make a mess out of you and your cunt - to mark it as his.

You didn’t care about the peace of the west anymore. All you could think about was Yone’s cock buried deep inside your pussy while his hands were kneading your ass in such a nice but rough manner. You wanted to cum all over his dick again and again and again.

“Oh shit, darlin’ - gonna cum. Gon’ fill your tiny little pussy with my seed, ya want that? Fuck~ Tell me how badly ya want it, sweetheart. Tell me how badly ya want to get bred by me.” Yone commanded, the same low husky tone as before.

Oh, how much this man turned you on, with his stupid low voice and his stupid grunts. “Yo- Ah~ Fuck… Please…fill me up…”

“Atta girl!”

His sloppy thrusts eventually ended up in him burying himself deep inside you, filling you up with all he has. The twitching feeling of his cock and the noises he made really hit you hard, making you squirt around him, ruining his chaps. Soft whines and pants leaving your lips. Yone threw his head back at the feeling, his hat almost falling off his head. A split second before he pulled his cock out, looking at his cum oozing out of your cunt. Yours and his fluids were mixing together on the floor. He slurred out some quiet words, while spreading your pussy to really take in the view. "Think ya can take another round?"

#yone x reader #high noon yone #high noon yone x reader #league of legends #league of legends smut #again english is not my first language #x reader #high noon league of legends #high noon skinline #smut #i need therapy

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niccolites · 9 days ago

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i don't wanna break the heart of any other man (but you)

johnny (soap) mactavish x fem!reader, brother's best friend au. cw dub-con

read on ao3 here, originally based off of @ceilidho 's ask here

It starts with a ribbon in your hair, neat and pink, ripped out by Johnny’s hand. He laughs in your face, all gummy smile at the age of eight, grinning as you cry and try to get it back.

You are seven-years-old, and you don’t know why your brother hangs out with this bully. Even worse, the inaction. Your perfect big brother, reduced to a faceless bystander.

Lungs catch and then stutter, devastation as you learn and relearn the same lesson until it sticks. A boy can treat you how he wants, as long as he minds his ps and qs about it.

The world around you is defined in the short-term - the sky is blue, your mary-janes have a scuff on them that your mother is worried people are going to notice, and you hate Johnny Mactavish.

He becomes friends with your brother and steals him away from you. Best friends once, you and your brother. Now you've been replaced by some snotty little boy who is constantly yanking on your pigtails. In your own living room, your brother is silent when you run from the room crying.

He's your bully, a twist in your stomach when no one seems to understand this. You sit on the back step, hiccuping tears as you listen to Johnny and your brother have fun in the living room. Only Johnny seems to notice your tears when you come back in and sit, sullen, in the corner. His gaze is a living thing that crawls over you, something alive that shudders like a second skin over yours.

The defining story of your childhood is told like this, after the fact: Johnny keeps picking on you, one day he steals your ribbon and you cry. He keeps the ribbon to this day. Cue the hand on the heart and the coos from the audience. A hit every time, an instant classic.

(One part of the story that is always missed out when this is told and retold again and again is how you actually swing at him. The last time you’re on an even playing field because he unwillingly takes it on the chin.)

Respective parents swoop in, fussing and pulling the two of you apart. Injustice doled out swiftly as Johnny clings to that ribbon, as no one takes it off of him.

“Oh, honey, boys do that when they like you,” your mum coos at you. It's a pathetic attempt to comfort you, leaving you confused more than anything. Here is the sharp reality, your perfect hair undone and mussed. Here is the crack that distorts the image, smoothing over the edges and makes it more palatable.

Johnny catches this, mouth agape as he takes it in. There’s a red mark on his chin from your hand, blue eyes wide and watery.

You wonder if Johnny remembers this. You can see the exact moment that this registers with him, as if he had never considered the ‘why’ of what he was doing to you. And here was the reason, delivered to him from the woman who always gives him an extra cookie when he comes over to play. A click, the universe has righted itself. Something slotting into place according to some higher power. Path set, direction coordinated. Your ribbon clenched in his fist. Meaning applied, after the fact.

It matters to you, you suppose. A politically incorrect statement that alters the start of your life, for all intents and purposes. Here is the centre of it, tattered ribbon and throbbing knuckles, and a lie that is swallowed and turned into truth. Johnny probably doesn’t care. The centre of his entire infatuation does not matter as much as the gulf of the rest of it. Who cares about him snapping your training bra, what matters is the image of his fingers as they wriggle under the strap, the warmth of skin before the snap of plastic. Johnny’s vision of you seems to be half-eclipsed by what he does to you.

It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but Johnny is a lesson that the bitterness is quickly forgotten once the pill hits the bottom of your stomach. Well, then there’s just the acceptance of how things are meant to be, right?

What starts off as the play fighting of a rough child in puppy love becomes the earnest approaches of a lovesick teenager. Supposedly.

Before, maybe someone would have eventually stepped in. Maybe there is a finite number of times that a girl can come home crying after having her hair pulled before someone does start to get concerned. Maybe you were a few hundred short when puberty hits and Johnny makes a sharp pivot.

Gone are the shoves, Johnny sticking his foot out to trip you up. Pulling your hair and dashing away, as if unable to stand being near you. His attention is an ugly thing that sits between you. Even he doesn't seem equipped to handle it, breath always coming a little bit too sharp when he steals your teddy, eyes on your reaction even as he tries to dart away.

Now, Johnny is always near. He doesn’t shove anymore, just stands, always too close. You start wearing a training bra and he is a bit too focused about it. Asks you how it feels, gaze hot on your face, like he wants you to say something hot. (You know it doesn’t matter what you say, he’ll likely think that anyway). Petty at the age of 13, you spit into his drink to try and gross him out and he downs it like he had been waiting for it.

Years are not defined by time passing, but rather Johnny and his relationship to you. Years pass with the deterioration of the two of you, scratches in the wall to track the history of how bad everything spirals out of control.

You’re thirteen, and Johnny is pinging your bra strap. He's fourteen, and now he's a few inches taller which he starts using to his advantage, leaning over you when you try to get by him.

You're fourteen, and Johnny is telling you that he jerked off to the thought of you last night before smiling at your mother while you scoff in disgust. He's fifteen, and deciding he wants to start heavy-lifting, wanting to get in shape for you.

You're fifteen, and Johnny is begging you to come swimming with them, hands smoothing over your hips while you try to shove him off. He's sixteen, and he’s holding an enlistment pamphlet and asking how much you would miss him if he went.

You’re sixteen, and Johnny is yanking up your jumper and his breath comes out as a wheeze when he sees the light blue cups that he is convinced match his eyes. He’s seventeen, and trying to get you to drink with him, pupils blown as he tilts the bottle to your mouth and some of it spills over your bottom lip.

You’re seventeen, and Johnny is shoving his hand down the front of your panties, won’t you let him see his favourite girl before he leaves? You don’t know if he’s even really referring to you anymore. He’s eighteen, and he’s almost gone. The weight on your shoulders is heavier, the way it must be before it’s lifted. Almost out, the crack of light in a tomb, mouth watering for it.

He’s trying to be gentle with you, he explains, nights before he leaves. Your nipples are raw under your shirt from where he had yanked your shirt up and ducked down to bite them with a groan. You scowl.

Sitting in your room, your family downstairs. He had asked for a moment with you, for the third time that day and your mother had been charmed. She had been blubbering since she found out that he enlisted, back bowing as you seem to lift higher with each hour that passes.

He needs to make you understand what is going on between the two of you. Needs to make it clear to you before he goes. “We’re meant to be,” he says, patient, even as his hands flex, smoothing over your knees. A creak of bone against muscle, seconds away from wrenching your thighs open and taking what he believes he is owed.

It seems like some kind of stupid honour code. You’re too wriggly. He can have his pound of flesh but he wants the full slab. Maybe he thinks he has to earn it, wants you to spread your legs and let him in.

Fat chance. You tell him as much, delighting for a moment at the way that dopey smile drops off his face. You imagine punching him now, wonder if you could break his nose this time, you think you have enough anger built up to really manage it.

Before you get a chance to really think it over, he grabs you, hands hard on your hips. Yanking your leggings down, and you think that you were wrong, if you didn’t bring over the full cow he was just going to and wrangle that fucker himself.

Minutes later and he’s puffing hot breath into the crook of your neck, the head of his cock between the gusset of your underwear and your pussy. He had gripped your hand and guided it around his dick, up and down. You would stop, but his hand is manacled around your wrist, palm hot against the pulse of your veins. Two layers of skin between your respective flesh, nothing really.

He whines when pre-cum aids the way, huffs a laugh when he nudges against your clit and you tremble. Barely any slick between your folds but he hones in on it like he does with everything to do with you. Dips the head of his cock further down to catch it, forehead thumping against your shoulder to watch as his cock shines with the slightest bit of your juices.

Here is the body’s natural reaction to stimulation. And here is Johnny taking the explanation that he has been waiting for.

“A knew it,” he mutters, feverish as his hips stutter, your hand tightening for a second as he nudges against your clit again. “Knew you were wantin’ it, lovey. But you had tae act like a right cow, eh?” He chuckles, dark before he yanks your chin up (you had been staring as well, you realise with a flush of shame), slants his mouth over yours.

He’s still angry, thumb digging into the soft flesh beneath your skin as he drags his tongue over yours, sucking it into his mouth until you hiccup.

He’s big like this, eighteen, and the puppy fat had shrank off years ago. Shoulders hunches to reach you, hand cradling your jaw in place, almost ear to ear.

He pulls back and you loll forward, pressure that had been holding you in place suddenly gone. You reel with it, almost falling forward before he nudges you back again. He huffs, a mean thing into your temple, hand sliding to the back of your neck. “Ye wantin’ it?” he asks. You wonder if he actually wants an answer, know that he already has his confirmation between your thighs.

His hand squeezes your wrist, and you clumsily twist your palm when you reach the top of his shaft, morbidly curious. He told you how he liked to jerk off two New Years ago, did it how he thought you would do it for him. Prophesied.

His shoulders shake, moaning wantonly as if you aren’t in your bedroom with your parents watching TV just downstairs. “Fuck,” he hisses, eyes on how your hand barely covers half of his cock as you stroke him. His hand thumps into the wall beside your shoulder, other hand flexing with his thumb on your wrist bone.

“Ah, fuck, dae that again,” he huffs until you do, again and again until he whines, head back into the crook of your neck as he drools into the collar of your shirt.

Both his hands are on your arse now, squeezing and kneading as he humps like a misbehaved dog into your hand. “I know you didnae mean it,” he mutters, pulling the spit soaked collar of your shirt down to kiss and lick and bite your collarbone. “You were jus’ missin’ me already, eh? A know, lovey, a know, there we are, just havtae show you the way sometimes, my poor wee angel, a forgive ye, a dae, a swear.”

He grips the backs of your thighs and squeezes when he comes, pushing until the head of his cocks kicks up near the entrance of your cunt, whining and shuddering through it. He pants as he comes back down, cock jerking idly in your now loose grasp, red hot against where you are now wet. Probably, mostly with Johnny’s cum.

He gives a heaving sigh, pushes his palms against the wall to look down at you. He likes what he sees - spit slick mouth, red neck, bare pussy with his cum staining you and your underwear.

“A willnae be gone long,” he says, as if you had been mid conversation. “A will come back f’ you, angel,” he promises, gaze hot on the crux of your legs.

You stare up at him, hand still loose around his shaft before you let go. A curdled desire settles in your stomach. Always for Johnny, and always half ruined at inception because it’s for Johnny.

Hours later and he’s gone. You sit at the breakfast table, your mother fussing in her upset about him being gone. Your brother is quiet as always, gives you a strange look. Johnny’s cum is dried out in your favourite pair of panties upstairs. You bite into a piece of toast, feel each crumb as it digs into your gums and dirties you.

It gets worse again after he officially enlists in the army. Before Johnny is the cute teenager that trails after your every move, intent and so so sweet.

Now he is Johnny, the childhood sweetheart. Before both of your parents had viewed you as scorning a poor lovesick puppy. Now you are a couple, constantly bickering about something or other. You insist that he is not your boyfriend, and are met with rolled eyes and knowing looks.

Johnny’s mother confesses that half of his calls to her are asking for you. You briefly consider moving to another country.

He sends pictures of his cock while he is away, the head red and you hate that you know how hot it would be to the touch. You reply and tell him to cut it off and he tells you that you’re the one.

Your mum doesn’t understand when you complain so heavily about him. Every complaint is met with a rebuttal, as if Johnny’s hand is at the back of everyone’s throat, puppeting everything that they say.

He’s too touchy. Because he loves you sweetheart, my god, I wish someone would want me that much.

He’s too close. God forbid someone enjoy your company.

Don’t you think he’s a little bit strange? He’s in the army, you dick, don’t you think you could be just a little bit nicer about it?

You feel half insane, the only one protesting the way that he treats you, the way he has always treated you. The capacity for cruelty has just shifted. Johnny has always worked within the parameters that were available to him. Sure, he can’t get away with yanking on your pigtails anymore, but biting a bit too hard at your neck has the same result. Tears in your eyes, and everyone tells you that this is how Johnny shows you he likes you.

After his first deployment, he gets so close to fucking you that you get spooked. Eighteen now, and suddenly ten years younger, Johnny taking something that doesn’t belong to him. You let him fuck up the length of your cunt, let him lick his cum off of you. He keeps his head between your thighs, eats you out like a man starved until you shake, tears in the corners of your eyes. Shame again, at how sloppy he is, spit and slick and cum everywhere. He likes it, likes how shameful you get about it. Laps that up too, tongue buried in you like he wants to get to the back of your throat. He always wants more of you than you think you have to begin with.

He lies back, barely sated but will at least lie still now and pulls you over to drape over his chest. He’s getting bigger, you think. Maybe he’s taking parts of you, squirreling them away in himself, until you don’t know you unless you find it in him.

You curve one hand over his barrel chest, barely any give in the muscle. He hums, a booming noise beneath your ear. “Tha’s all it took,” he murmurs, hand smoothing over your head like you’re a cat. “A bit ae missin’ me and yer as sweet as a kitten.”

You’re too tired to give a snarky response, though you briefly wonder if you can get away with pinching his side a bit too hard in retribution.

You know he’s going to be even more pent up the next time he gets back, that he’s going to think he’s owed your virginity. You refuse to give him another reason to tie the two of you together indefinitely. You think he’ll propose if he does, he has already been messaging you about it, asking when the two of you were finally going to walk down that aisle that he’s been building around you for years.

You go to a pub the next time he leaves, ignore his messages to call because he misses you so much. Sit at the counter until some sleazy guy who looks double your age saunters up and offers to buy you a drink. You shouldn’t, it is so dangerous. You barely have to cut your eyes towards him before he’s taking this as forwardness. Offers to take you home and immediately starts pawing at you in his truck.

You let him bend you over, the clink of a belt and its all over. You rock with each thrust, hating yourself for catching sight of the man’s hand on yours and knowing that Johnny’s is bigger.

You bring a hand down to rub along your clit, but the first whine that leaves your mouth brings the entire show to a close and you stand up, furious. The man wheezes in the seat as you barely say goodbye, wrenching your panties up and storming home.

Johnny’s been calling you, must be on whatever type of break he gets wherever he is, and you answer after the third missed call. Low timber floods your ear and warms your bones.

He’s so excited he caught you, been missing you so much, baby. Thinking about you all the time, he got in trouble for not being able to focus. Asks if you’ve been taking care of his pretty girl for him?

You let him yap in your ear the whole way home, wanting desperately for your vibrator. “You missin’ me too, baby?” Johnny huffs in your ear. You hum, absentmindedly in response. He’s on it, scenting blood.”Aye? Tell me, how much, eh? You been petting yourself thinking of me?”

You’re home, Johnny still trying to goad you on over the phone, the connection is bad but he seems to overcome it. Hulking, even over a wire to get to you. Maybe you could get him to talk through getting yourself off. It’s disgusting, but maybe you could give yourself a pass this one time. He’s allowed to do whatever he wants, where are your allowances? Johnny gets to hop back and forth over the line of propriety, you’re allowed one slip up before you return to your factory settings.

Your vibrator, hidden in the back of your bedside table, gone. You know it was him, know he binned it. Know he probably didn’t want anything getting you off except him.

You stare at the empty space in the back of your drawer, cold water down your spine that douses any flames of arousal you think you have ever felt and maybe will ever feel again. Anger is back, and so beautifully familiar. Johnny is still droning on, something about letting him see a picture of how much you’re missing him.

“I fucked someone else,” you say, voice gritty.

The line goes quiet. Small buzzes that make up the distance between the two of you, the call dropping and reconnecting. Universe bringing you back together again.

“That’s not fucking funny,” Johnny says, voice low in a way that you don’t think that you’ve heard before.

“Good thing I’m not joking,” you snap back. You feel frightened, eyes darting to the window as if he is about to start running in your direction, all the way across the globe. You wouldn’t put it past him. But never let it be said that you wouldn’t put your hand to the snapping teeth of a rabid dog.

He’s silent, breath heaving before the line goes dead.

You drop your phone to the floor and stand in the quiet of your room. A bird chirps in the distance, life reinstating itself even in the absence of Johnny. You crawl into bed and refuse to get off tonight. A competition where you are the only participant and the only loser too. Fitting.

You don’t see Johnny for months after that. Which makes sense, because he is across the globe. But the silence feels eerie, the way you imagine it might be for him. The thunder of a gun and the shutter after. Silence ringing, not due to quiet but because of the absence of sound.

He doesn’t message you at all during this period. Clearly he says something to his mother, because she gives you a frown at church that Sunday. “You must’ve done something,” your mum hisses at you, embarrassed that the story of childhood sweethearts that she gave birth to has become a story of a surly woman who cannot appreciate the man who loves her as he risks his life for his country.

You don’t bother replying. There’s no point, really. Everything has been set in motion and everyone had climbed on board. You were the one that derailed the track and upset everything.

You refuse to admit that you miss Johnny. That your phone buzzes and there is a moment where you think it could be him. For months, it isn’t. You feel like you’re floating out in orbit and your lifeline has gone silent on you. Drifting, the cold slowly creeping in, nothing around to propel yourself off of. Gain some momentum, do something.

You sit and wait for Johnny’s judgement day.

He gets back on a Friday, and he doesn’t come to see you. You know he’s back, because you can hear your brother on the phone to him, asking if he got back alright. You skulk around the corner, waiting for any mention of your name. If there is any, you don’t hear it.

You sit in your room, uncertain. The thing that you hadn’t considered is that while you had been complaining about how you and Johnny had been set up in the direction that you were going in, you hadn’t thought about what you would do if you weren’t doing this. You have derailed the train now, but you don’t remember when you got on, or how to get back there.

You mull this over, legs tucked to the side as you lean into the large bear on your bed. Won for you, by Johnny of course, at some fair when you were kids. Maybe you could leave. Nothing as drastic as another country, but another town maybe, escape the suffocation that comes with being here and everyone knowing you as Johnny’s girl.

Daydreaming, imagining yourself in a place where no one knows who you are, you are startled out of your thoughts when your window slams open. Soap hoists himself up and into your room, with an ease you imagine he must not have had before.

You blink at him as he stands next to your open window, gaze hot on you without saying a word. You shuffle a little, uncertain, refusing to speak first. You feel bizarrely guilty, as if you have done something wrong. Even though you know you haven’t. Just because a man decides he is owed your virginity, doesn’t mean you’re in the wrong for not giving it to him.

Still, you swallow an apology on the back of your tongue and it tastes like ash.

Johnny quietly reaches over and slams your window shut, making you jump.

“Y’know, a went around town and tried to figure out who ye cheated on me wae,” he says, at last, face darker than you have ever seen it. His hair is slightly grown out along the sides, mohawk less stark like this. Hair like he had when he was ten, almost.

“I didn’t cheat on you -” You try to interject, remembering your indignation more than anything.

Johnny lunges for you, hand hot around your ankle as he yanks you down the bed. “Who fuckin’ was it, huh? Y’ know, ave been tryin’ so hard wae you, thinkin’ that you’ve been missin’ me just as much as a have you, but instead you’ve been tryin’ tae hurt me, whorin yourself fae anyone -”

You reel your arm back to punch him in the face, and he catches your wrist just before you can make contact with his jaw. “I didn’t fucking whore myself out, I’m sorry that you’re fucking delusional -”

A hand in the length of your hair and he wrenches your head back, slamming his mouth against yours. It’s sore, all teeth as you both hiss and spit at each other. It feels like an even playing field again, even though you feel swallowed up in his bulk. His hand leaves your hair and grips you everywhere he can, like everything belongs to him already.

You feel white hot, letting him lick across the back of your teeth like he doesn’t want any part of you untouched by him. You hold onto his shoulders, letting him pull you all over, leans back and hooks a finger over your jaw. Pulls your mouth open. You realise what he’s going to do a moment before he does it, spit landing on your tongue. Instinctive to swallow it.

He moans wantonly at the sight, a sound that flushes you in embarrassment. For god’s sake, you’re in your mother’s house. He’s licking into your mouth, spit everywhere and making you feel sticky.

His hand slides between your thighs and you feel the moment that he finds out how wet you are, his hips stuttering a quick grind against your hip. “Jus’ for me, huh?” he asks, feverishly hot. He pulls back as he yanks your shorts off, panties dragged along with. Groans at the sight of you, wet and swollen between your legs. “Eh? Is this what ye did wae that fuckin’ boy?”

Your thighs shake, hands trying to catch his wrist as he slides two fingers into you, thumb mean against your clit. “What?” you croak, blinking up at him.

“Whatever loser you took home with you,” Johnny asks, hawk-like focus on your face. Strange for him, when your pussy is on show. “You take him back here and did ye let him dae this tae y’? Ye think aboot me when he brought his small dick oot?”

You don’t respond and he pinches your clit until you squeak, trying to buck away from him.

“I’m sorry, angel,” he coos suddenly, eyes no longer on your face but between your legs. “My pretty girl, you just need someone to show you, right?”

He fingers you, thumb intent on your clit until you start to shake, voice getting higher, Then he stops, fingers slipping out of you (when did it become three?), with a wet noise that if you were more in your mind, you would flush about.

You start to whine, and he flips you over onto your front, hikes your ass in the air and coos of the sight of your cunt throbbing at the injustice of it all. “A know, angel, A know. A want to give ye what yer wantin, but a don’t know if you deserve it,” he hums. Fucking liar, if the clink of his belt is anything to go by, then the hot stroke of his cock between your sticky folds that has you arching your back like a cat in heat. He’s trying to be teasing, but his voice shakes, restraint held together by a thin chain and he is a big man.

He holds you still with a hand on your hip, the heat of it sinking into your skin. You can hear him beating off, using your slick to aide the way as he stares at your holes. You feel like you want to cry, sitting on display for him to get off on. You do, but it also makes you feel piping hot all over. There’s a sickness in him and he’s been dosing you up on it for years. Viral disease, his spit in your mouth until it clogs the back of your throat and finally takes root in your bloodstream.

“Was thinking about this so much,” he murmurs, as if caught up in a dream. “Wanted tae be the one to make y’ a woman - “

“It was bad,” you manage, throat dry, gaze on the opposite wall. The slick noise behind you stops and you can only hear the sound of his breathing. His scrutiny of you on the back of your skull pulling you down. You don’t know why you’re saying this. There is a cliff edge and you want to say you stepped off of it with your next words, but you’re already freefalling, and you’re hoping for the crash into him rather than the cold dirt. “I didn’t know him, I didn’t get off, and I thought about you and how good that you would have made me - “

Half a sentence in and he sinks in, cock splitting you open. He groans, loud and shameful as you whine, thigh kicking until he stills it, pushing down to get further into you, It may as well have been your first time, it takes a few shallow thrusts and Johnny reaching down to rub at your clit to ease the way before he manages to get balls deep into you.

“Oh fuck,” you wheeze, full. At capacity. You can’t think beyond the stretch of yourself around Johnny, air knocked out as he pushes more weight onto you.

“Fuck, this fuckin’ cunt,” he groans. Hands smooth over your arse, spreading your cheeks to better view what he’s doing to you. “Knew ye would be so good, dreamed ae this - ah - you just wanted tae deny yerself. Don’t worry, angel, I’ll give ye what ye need.”

Then it starts, the pulling out just bottom out again, fast and hard and any air you manage to suck in is immediately shot out.

Your head lolls to the side, you think you might be drooling onto your sheets, but can barely find it in you to care. His balls slap against your swollen clit, so loud and yet you cannot remember why you should care about that beyond getting him to keep doing that. You realise that your muttering please, over and over again, not even aware of it.

He shifts to the side, and suddenly his thrusts are deliberate, and you tense up even more. No pause, no grinding out, you come and he keeps going, grunts as you tighten up and spasm, sobbing into your sheets.

It’s like a point is being hammered into you. You suspect if you hadn’t admitted that you didn’t come with the other guy, then Johnny wouldn’t have given a shit. But this is purposeful, a lesson being taught until only the whites of your eyes are showing. It always did so many times for you to take a telling, Johnny coos in your ear. Thank god he’s here, he’s got you.

He comes with a groan, mouth hot against the back of your neck as he mouths at your nape, teeth a little bit too sharp for your liking. Damning, feeling his cum in you. No part of you, untouched.

You want to say it gets worse from this point again. You think that it has actually just always been the same level of awful, the scale has just broadened.

Johnny tells everyone that you’re engaged after you let him cum in you again. There’s not even an engagement ring. Spitting in anger at your future being decided for you again, Johnny interprets this as you being upset he didn’t take you ring shopping. Drags you to the bathroom and fucks you on the sink with your ankles over his shoulders.

It’s relentless. There is a hairline fracture along the tender tissue of your brain and Johnny has pried it open to fit himself, crawled in and made himself at home.

He tells you that you were made for him. That he had came first, that he had wished for you and you were delivered to him. Guides your hand to his ribcage, tells you there is one missing. “Would give that an’ mare,” he vows, hands swallowing up the arch of your torso, a perfect ring made with the circle of his hands.

He’ll probably marry you the next time he’s back. He can barely be held back from it just now, that leash he places in your hand even if he yanks so hard that the control is all just for show. Just another link between the two of you, his neck yanked back to you up at you.

He sleeps in your childhood bed, muscular arm a band around your waist. There’s a version of you in the corner. She’s still weeping and now only you know. A tear against Johnny’s shoulder and he shuffles closer, tucking you under his chin. “Ave got ye, angel,” he slurs, half-asleep.

You feel restricted, unable to move. And it soothes you to sleep.

(Johnny begs you to suck him off just before he leaves for his next deployment. His come tastes bitter as you swallow. Go figure.)

#johnny mactavish x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #cod x reader #nic writes #johnny mactavish #cw dub con #definitely could have been more catholic. an improvement for next time haah #let me know ur thoughts !

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caratheewriter · 9 months ago

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"I'll follow you down 'til the sound of my voice will haunt you" - Aegon Targaryen II x Cousin! reader

Synopsis: After the events of the disagreement of Driftmark's succession, such as the "unfortunate" death of Vaemond Valeryon, the family indulges in a nice dinner where you give your cousin an offer he shouldn't refuse.

Rating: PG-13

Warning(s): attempted manipulation (my girl almost had him fr).

Word Count: 809

You are seated at your father's left side, patiently waiting. You and your father, Daemon, glance at each other. He looks at you in discontent and you give him a look, he knows you won't let up.

King Viserys stands, well more like leans on the table, and speaks, "How good it is... to see you all tonight... together."

"Prayer before we begin?"

"Yes."

The Queen Alicent begins to pray, "May the Mother smile down on this gathering with love. May the Smith mend the bonds that have been broken for far too long."

You rolled your eyes. What does she thinks she's doing?

"And to Vaemond Velaryon, may the gods give him rest."

You snicker at the last remark, may the gods give him hell. Vaemond was out of his mind.

"This is an occasion for celebration, it seems. My grandsons, Jace and Luke, will marry their cousins, Baela and Rhaena, further strengthening the bond between our houses. A toast to the young Princes... and their betrothed."

You smile, proud of your sisters and how they've grown. "Hear, hear!"

Aegon leans over to whisper to Jace, "Well done, Jace. You'll finally get to lie with a woman."

Baela takes a drink and looks at him in annoyance. She then turns to look at you. You make eye contact. Do not worry, dear sister. He'll get his due.

You take a look at your cousin. How pathetic? Your women will chew him up and spit him out. Not before you have your turn, of course.

"Let us toast as well to Prince Lucerys... the future Lord of the Tides.

"Hear, hear."

Aegon leans over to Jace, once again.

"You do know how the act is done, I assume? At least in principle? Where to put your cock and all that."

"Let it be, cousin."

"You can play the jester if you wish, but hold your tongue before my betrothed."

Aegon hums in fake agreeance. You zone out halfway, coming back seeing Jace take Helaena to dance. You see your father nod in your peripheral. You move to Jace's seat and lean to whisper in Aegon's ear.

"Dearest cousin, I heard of the little situation with a servant girl this morning."

Aegon looks at you. Why the hell are you talking to him?

"What of it, cousin."

"I- It must feel so restricting. Not being able to do what you truly want, having to marry someone you feel no love for."

"Well, I don't see a man at your side, cousin. Did you scare them off."

"Quite the contrary, Aegon. Unlike all these other ladies of the court, I don't need a man at my side to have power. I'm free to bed whoever I want, whenever I want."

Aegon grits his teeth at your clear mocking, "How lucky you are, Y/n."

You smirk internally. Hook, Line, and Sinker. "I could help you, of course. The women of Dorne love men like you, cousin. Princely, Silver-haired, Targaryen. Personally, I like my men: pathetic... and good for one thing."

You lean closer. Your lips grazing his ear, "I could take you away from here. To Dorne. You'd be away from all of this. Away from your mother, who seems to only care about image. You'd be free, Aegon."

He looks at you, his eyes growing desperate. He's actually considering it.

Just then, a servant sets a roasted pig down. Lucerys chuckles. Aemond hits the table, anger evident. He stands, goblet in hand.

"Final tribute. To the health of my nephews: Jace... Luke... and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise... hm.... strong."

"Aemond."

"Come... let us drain our cups to these three... Strong boys."

Jace gets in Aemond's face, "I dare you say that again."

"Why? Was only a compliment. Do you not think yourself Strong?"

Jace punches Aemond as Luke gets up and Aegon slams his head on the table. You look the boys in disgust. One normal night. Just one, please?

"Why would you say such a thing before these people?"

"I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family, Mother. Mm, though it seems my nephews aren't quite as proud of theirs."

Rhaenyra turns to Jace, Luke, and your sisters, "Go to your quarters. All of you go, now."

Your father looks at you expectantly. You whisper in Aegon's ear one last time, "Seems as though you are happy here, cousin. Being a nuisance. Forever at the beck and call of your mother and grandsire."

You leave him, walking over to your father and Rhaenyra, "Goodnight, Father, Rhaenyra." You retreat to your chambers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Aegon stands in front of the people, having been crowned King, he thinks back to your words. The offer sounding so convincing. If only he hadn't acted out, then maybe the sound of your voice and your sweet words wouldn't haunt him.

fin.

Oh. My. God. I don't know if I love or hate this because I straight pulled this out of my ass.

Also for further context, you are Daemon's oldest daughter. Your mother is one of the eldest children of Qoren Martell and the reason why you aren't married is because you really don't need a husband. Your mother has a twin brother and so you will rule alongside your cousin as it is not known which one of them came first.

#house of the dragon #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #team black #gaslight gatekeep girlboss

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year ago

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Three for One 9

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As a customer service associate, you’re used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what’s on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: No more work but we gonna werk.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me 💞

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Ransom pushes you back, slipping free from between your tits. He catches you by the back of the neck as he grabs his dick, pumping himself as he groans. You brace yourself, squeezing your eyes shut as his voice gets louder.

He finishes in hot spurts string across your face that make your skin crawl. You scrunch your nose as the chlorine-like smell tinges your nose. Your entire body threatens to revolt. It’s more than the act itself, it’s the humiliation.

He sighs and lets you go. You want to wipe your face off but you can’t bear to touch it. You lean back on your heels and hover your hand in front of you, trying to breath through the swell of nausea. A hand clasps around your wrist, tugging it away as you’re dragged back towards the tree. You stumble on your knees, flicking your lashes as the sticky glaze cools on your skin.

“Next,” Lloyd insists as a growl rises from behind you.

“Be nice,” Andy girds. His words mean nothing. He could stop this but he won’t. He won’t because he’s just like them. He wants this.

“Please, I don’t want–”

“I didn’t want a face full of Gucci garbage,” Lloyd bends over you with a snicker, “too fucking bad, isn’t it?”

You wince and lean away from him. Your first meeting flashes in your mind. You recall a similar state, being sprayed in the face unceremoniously. You shudder as he lets you go, a small shove on the back of your head.

You extend your arm as Ransom’s soft groans continue between mellowing breaths. This is deranged. These men are twisted and, as pathetic as they are, terrifying. You grab a small box from the pile and shakily lean back.

Lloyd hovers behind you as you sense the gazes of the others. You have no hope. Whoever it is doesn’t matter. You slide the bow off and tear the paper away. Your hands work on instinct as you try to prepare yourself, try to shut down any emotion.

You shake as you reveal a strangely curved piece of pink silicone visible through the transparent window of the box. Lloyd chuckles and bends to take the disposed bow from beside you. He looks at the tag.

“Well, well, well, looks like I’m up, but you know what, pussy cat,” he looms over you, “that one’s for you. I got it fully charged so why don’t you pop that in?”

You turn and look at him from the corner of your eye, not straight on. You consider the box again and the toy. It’s one of those hands free vibrators designed for couples. The woman wears it as the man controls it. The box buzzes and you drop it. It stops when it hits the floor.

You gasp and look above you as Lloyd has his phone in hand, “you’re getting off easy. Literally.” He smirks down at you, “what’s the matter, you need help?”

You gulp and shake your head, “n-no.”

You swipe up the box, picking open the cardboard box and slides out the plastic insert. The little instruction pamphlet is missing, confirming that he’s already gone in and opened it. You roll the toy in your hand, the flimsier part wobbling back and forth.

You lower your head and raise yourself on your knees. You pull the elastic of your panties as you angle the toy down the front. You bite down as you widen your legs, pushing your ass out as you lean forward slightly. It’s awkward as the men elicit snarling noises in response.

You find yourself wet. That startles you. It eases the insertion as the full part glides into you and settles snugly inside. You fix the curved stem and rest the little round nub against your clit. With your hand still down your panties, the toy vibes, just once and makes you squeak.

“Works,” Lloyd snorts.

You quiver and inhale, tenderly sitting back on your heels as you grip your thighs. Your eyes sting. You won’t cry.

“Next,” Lloyd demands before the silence can sink in.

He nudges you with his velvet loafer and you flinch. You shuffle on your knees again and grab a gift bag. The men behind you shift eagerly. You don’t even open the present and just read the tag. Fuck.

“Lloyd,” you croak.

“Ha,” Lloyd claps, “luck’s on my side,” he taunts, “looks like fate wants me to fuck that throat.”

“The present…” Andy suggests.

“Yeah, whatever,” Lloyd spins on his heel and struts away, sitting at the edge of the couch, “open it then get your butt over here, sweet stuff.”

You shake your head and reach into the gift bag. You pull out a medallion necklace set into the red box. It has diamonds encrusted around the edge. You know it’s not cheap.

“You can put that on too,” Lloyd sneers as you hear his zipper slice through the tension.

You pull free the necklace and hook it around your neck. You push the packaging away and fall forward onto your hands. You can barely keep yourself moving as your mind hazes. The surrealness threatens to paralyse you.

You turn and crawl across the carpet.

“Mmm, yeah, pussy cat, come to me,” Lloyd teases.

You ignore the scalding wave that flows over you. You try to block out the room, the watching eyes, and the man who orders you around like an animal. The animal you crawl around like.

You approach him as he pulls his dick out above his parents, knees wide as he gives a crooked grin. He lets his hard length flop back against his stomach as he sits back and bends his arm behind his head. He winks and looks down as he bites his lip.

“I think I owe you a taste, pussy cat,” he says, “Merry Christmas to me.”

You lift yourself up. Ransom’s silhouette moves in your peripheral as the armchair creaks out of your sight. The twitch of Lloyd’s dick makes your stomach curdle as he proudly repeats the trick. You put your hand around him and close your eyes, inching closer.

Your lips stop just over the tip of his dick. His hard, thick length bulges in your grip. You press your mouth to him and swallow back another tide of revulsion. You want it over with but given the amount of presents waiting under the tree, it might never end.

You open up to him slowly, coaxing yourself through the act. The salty trick that smears on your tongue threatens to flip your insides. You squeeze him and he groans, slapping the cushion beside him.

“Fuck, the grip on her,” he rasps and your eyes flick open.

His hand slides down as you urge your mouth down halfway, then back again. You’re not sure you can take all of him. He retrieves his phone from beside him. A sudden rumble awakens inside of you. The toy rattles you completely as you nearly choke.

Your teeth graze him and you still, trying to set yourself straight, dangling on your worst intentions. You could sink right in and listen to him scream. He swats the side of your head and ramps up the vibe.

“You fucking bite me and I promise you’ll be sorry,” he growls. You believe him. You’re not just being good for yourself but in that moment, you have to focus on you.

You push back down, your reflex threatening to trigger. Back up and you take a breath. The vibrator shakes you, adding to the torment, splitting you between pleasure and disgust. You slide back down and a weight spreads across your skull. Lloyd pushes you until you gag around him. He groans as your throat constricts.

“Mmm, you’re getting close, aren’t you?” He purrs, guiding your rhythm as he fists your hair. “I’m not feeding you ‘til you cum.”

Your eyes round and you let them roll back and close as they wet. You focus on your breath, not what you’re doing, not what you’re feeling. His hand slows your motion on him as you squeeze your legs together. The pulse intensifies, the small nub against your clit stirring your nerves. Come on, come on, almost there.

You moan, once, twice, again. Your body starts to quiver, you can’t help it. Even as he laughs, even as he rams you back down on his dick and nearly suffocates you. You’re swept up in the swirl of sensations.

Your body spasms as your orgasm flows over. You drool down his dick as he pulls you back then forces you back down. Fuck, it shouldn’t feel good. You hate it but the release is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. The release of pressure leaks out of your, soaking your thighs as you keep them taut.

“Oh fuck, you like tasting me,” he purrs, “hm, you want more? Huh?’

You’re weak as he uses you, rocking your head as he grips it between his large hands. The wet noises of your mouth deafen you as you taste his anticipation. Feel it throbbing in him.

He grunts and slips a hand down to cradle his sack. You groan as he stills you, thrusting from below again as he leans his shoulders back into the couch. He fucks your mouth as he lets out a long rumble, cumming down your throat as he quakes.

He keeps going until your mouth is sloppy and your saliva mingles with his cum as it smears around your lips. He pulls you off him and you cough, covering your mouth as you spit up into it. He purrs and sways his leg in bliss as he rubs his chest.

“Fuck,” he growls as he looks down at himself and you blink away the haze, “these are designer.”

The fabric around the open fly of his pants is wet with your excess. You wipe your mouth, the filth across your face and pasty in your throat once more sickening you. Reality seeps back in as your head lolls and the tree lights blur in your vision.

“Next…” Andy prompts in a hoarse mutter.

You lean back until you fall onto your ass. You’re dizzy. You don’t know how much more you can take. Ransom gets up and you watch him snatch up two presents from under the tree. He drops them into your lap.

“Let’s turn things up,” Ransom declares as he stands over you, pants hanging slack from his hips.

You can hardly think. You just look down and set to opening the presents; another pair of earrings; rose gold hoops, and a bracelet with pearls. The tags tangle together and you read the names in a shaky squeak; Lloyd, Ransom. A long sigh from the armchair.

“Let’s start with these,” Lloyd pushes your shoulder so you fall onto your hands. He grabs your hips and lifts them, tearing your panties down your thighs. “I didn’t get to finish my breakfast.”

You’re guided around senselessly by the pair. Lloyd gets down on his back, a couch pillow under his head as he brings you down to straddle him. He moves the stem of the toy to the crease of your leg and slides his tongue between your folds. The vibrator continues to buzz as he adds to the overwhelming thrum.

Ransom pulls off his woolly sweater, tossing it onto the couch before he nears. He grabs your chin and forces your head up. His dick hangs out of his pants, limp but subtly twitching.

“Tell you what, you don’t even have to get me off,” he snickers, “just get me going.”

He mashes your face into his crotch. You open your mouth and your spit leaks out onto his soft dick. You reach for him, moving his tip between your lips. Your tongue works thoughtlessly, mimicking the one on your clit, swirling and flicking as weak moans escape you.

Ransom hardens in your grip, little by little until you can get a firm grasp. You suck on his tip until he purrs. Lloyd wiggles his head under you, pulling your down by his hips as he laps and a suckles.

Your hips buck as your climax takes over. You cum again, heart racing, breath hitching as your head spins. Every muscle aches as your lungs burn. You don’t know if you can keep up. The thought that this is only the beginning is enough to exhaust you.

There’s a rustle beyond your purview. Your eyes search but you can’t see past Ransom. A shadow appears at your side. Andy stands over you and rips wrapping paper away from a box. He shows you the Coach gift set, the same one you sold him.

“Me,” he proclaims, voice edged with frustration.

“That’s cheating,” Ransom puffs out as he frames your head between his hands.

“I don’t fucking care,” Andy snarls and snatches your hand, bringing it up to the front of his pants. Lloyd chuckles into your cunt from below.

Another zipper descends and your hand encircles thick flesh. Hard veins press into your palm as your arm is pumped, a tight grip on your wrist. You shut your eyes and dissolve into the madness of the moment.

The heat of their bodies storms around you, roiling with that radiating off of you. Your throat turns raw from the rampant intrusion, your cunt pulses with overstimulation, and your hand chafes on the hard dry flesh. All control slips beyond you as the men take over, each guiding you to their whim.

Your gulping, gagging moans rise into the air, lost amid their groans and grunts. Hands pawing at you, hips rocking, mouths moving. Bodies tangle together in the throes of depravity, dissembling the last of your reticence, trapping you in a helpless apathy.

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totowlff · 1 year ago

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chapter one — initial orientation

➝ toto wolff is a skeptic about love. after several failed dates, he definitely doesn't want to know anything about relationships anymore. however, when a friend bridges the gap between him and one of his more mysterious employees, he decides to try again. little does he know that woman is taking him back to the classroom.

➝ word count: 4,2k

➝ warnings: mentions of smut, bdsm dynamics and bondage

➝ author’s note: an experimental project, without a defined number of chapters and working from another point of view. it will probably be the dirtiest thing i will write on this blog. enjoy.

As he drove through the narrow streets of South Kensington, Toto felt butterflies in his stomach. It was almost childish, he thought, to feel that way at his age at the prospect of a date, but he couldn’t help it.

The initial idea had not been his, quite the opposite. He had reached a point of complete skepticism towards love and that must have been visible that night in Porto Cervo. Sitting at a table facing the Mediterranean, he couldn't care less about the stunning sunset that painted the sky pink and orange. His eyes were fixed on the couple who were next to him, holding hands, enjoying the scenery.

— Are you okay, Toto? — someone asked next to him.He turned his head and saw Stefano Domenicali setting down his gin and tonic.

— Yes, yes, I’m fine.

— You seem distant.

— I'm just thinking.

The man smiled.

— Would you mind sharing your thoughts?

Toto snorted, running a hand through his hair.

— It's not important.

— I think it is, considering I was talking for five minutes about next year's calendar issues and you just completely ignored me.

— What do you want me to say, Stefano? — Toto said, watching the pieces of lemon and ice floating in his glass of Coca-Cola — I can't make you or Mohamed change your minds about the 23 races.

—But you weren't thinking about that, were you?

— No.

— So, what was it?

Toto stared at his friend for long seconds before letting out another sigh.

— I was thinking about love.

— Are you in love, Toto? — Stefano asked, with a suggestive smile on his face.

— No, no — he replied, shaking his head — Actually, that’s the problem. It’s frustrating.

The man in front of him raised an eyebrow.

— Frustrated? How can a guy like you be frustrated?

— Let's say that my current prospects are dim.

— I thought you were a hit with women after Netflix came along — Stefano said — At least that's what it seems like on social media.

Toto chuckled dejectedly, picking up his glass.

— Don't believe everything you see on the internet, Stefano — he said, before taking a sip — Actually, things have been downright pathetic lately.

— Pathetic?

— On the last date I went to, the woman spent half an hour discussing how she knew that the belonging to the woman a table over wasn't a real Birkin. All I had asked was if she liked the place I had chosen for our dinner.

Stefano laughed, his hand on the base of his gin and tonic glass.

— And because of one bad date, you think your love life is pathetic?

— Well, almost every date I've had since the divorce has been pathetic. If they're not busy judging bags, they're talking about their latest purchases at the Duomo in Milan or how their ex-husbands left them for younger girls.

— On the first date? — Stefano asked — Jesus, Toto...

— And with work, it became even more complicated to fit everything together. Let's face it, no woman wants a partner who spends so much time away from home. They want a guy who stays by their side, who supports them, who pays attention to them, and I can’t always be that person.

— It's clear that you're a supportive and caring guy. If not, you wouldn't have stayed until the end of those horrible encounters of yours.

— But… That’s not what I want out of a relationship, you know?

— And what do you want?

Toto pursed his lips.

—That's a difficult question...

— Only if you don't know what you're looking for. And, in these cases, you need one of those women who are — he hesitated for a few seconds, thoughtfully — Viola says that all the time, what is it called?

— Cultured? Intelligent? Sincere?

— A girlboss, I think that's how they say it in English.

— But what the hell does that mean?

— An independent woman, who has her own career and her own success. A woman who won't need your name or her money for anything, because she has it all due to her effort. Someone who doesn’t need you to take care of her all the time. A powerful, confident woman. Just like you’re a powerful, confident man.

— I'm not powerful, Stefano.

— Toto, let's face it, things only happen inside the paddock if you want them to. You have three client teams, influence over which drivers get seats, who gets in and who gets out of the grid. You helped put Vowles in charge at Williams...

— He did that on his own merit, I didn’t…

— It doesn't matter, working with you made it so that he stood out. Everything you touch turns to gold and you need someone just like you.

Toto rolled his eyes.

— And where do you think I’ll find this person?

— At my office in London — his friend said, as he took his phone out of his pocket. After a few taps on the screen, he turned the screen towards him, with a small smile on his face.

The image of a woman illuminated the screen. She had short black hair with straight bangs, as well as greenish eyes marked by makeup and full lips. Wearing a black blazer, the only point of color in the image were the red nails on the hand holding the phone, revealing that it was a photo taken in a mirror.

— Who is this? — Toto asked softly, his skin suddenly feeling very hot.

— Ava Randall, part of the Formula One Management’s board of directors.

He blinked, somewhat incredulously. How had he not noticed that woman walking through the paddock before?

— She — Toto stammered, without looking away from the woman's serious, almost seductive expression. He couldn't stop thinking about what her voice would be like, what her smile would be like, what her touch would be like.

— Single, no children, a successful career established in the same field as you. She's what you need, Toto.

— Stefano…

— I can talk to her and give her your contact details so you can talk and arrange a date — he said — What do you think?

Toto pressed his lips into a thin line.

— Do you think she would go out with me?

— You'll only know if you let me give her her number.

“Well, it doesn't hurt to try”, he thought that night.

It was surprising when he got a message from an unknown number. The brunette woman smiling in the profile photo made Toto's heart sped up while his mind searched for the right response.

A seemingly innocent conversation soon turned into an invitation to dinner at a quiet restaurant when he was back in London. She was dressed very elegantly, and Toto couldn't take his eyes off her for even a second. He wanted to find out everything he could about her.

Ava was a lawyer, graduated from University of Cambridge, and worked for some time in an office in London until she was hired to join McLaren's defense team during the investigation of Ferrari documents being leaked to McLaren team personnel. Getting closer to the world of Formula 1 made her decide to move into the sports field, getting a position on the legal team at Formula One Management.

— And, as soon as he was appointed as CEO of F1, Stefano asked me to join the board of directors. He said that even though we were on opposite sides during Spygate, he had been impressed with my work.

— And, if I may say so, I am too, Ava — Toto said, smiling.

The night ended with the promise of another date, which took place in Abu Dhabi, on the last weekend of the race. At that point, he knew that Ava was completely different from the other women. She had a powerful aura, almost as if she made time stop every time in every room she walked into. The serious look and the restrained smile seemed like an invitation to delve even deeper into that woman, to discover even more about her and, in a way, to allow himself to be discovered.

And it was with that intention he’d ended up in front of an elegant red brick building in Chelsea. Taking a last look at his hair, Toto parked his car and started walking indirection of the building's entrance before paging her apartment on the intercom.

As he stared at his reflection in the elevator’s polished metal interior, he thought about how Ava would have been dressed and whether she had cooked for them. “Maybe she ordered something, it's easier”, Toto thought, as he entered the corridor that led to her sixth floor apartment. It didn’t matter what they would be eating. What mattered was being with her, listening to her stories and becoming more and more enchanted by her.

Few seconds passed between the moment he pressed the doorbell and the moment the door opened, revealing Ava and her charming smile.

— Good evening, Toto — she greeted him, leaning against the doorframe. Wearing a white cashmere dress that left her shoulders exposed and a delicate necklace with a yin-yang-like symbol around her neck, she looked completely at ease — How are you?

— I’m well, and you?

— Everything is perfect.

Opening the door wider, she nodded for him to come in, which he did with a shy smile on his face. After taking off his shoes and the coat he was wearing, placing them on one of the hooks hanging on the white wall, he followed her through the flat, trying not to seem too dazzled by the place.

However, the reality was that the apartment was gorgeous, with elegant and cozy decor in light wood. She led him down the hallway, past the living room until they reached the kitchen, also decorated in the same way. It didn't take long for his eyes to find the pots on the stove, as well as the wine and the two glasses carefully positioned on the dining table.

— Cooking, huh? — Toto asked, with a smile.

— I thought it would be nice to show you that I can cook — Ava replied.

— And what's on the menu for this evening?

— Spaghetti with Chicken Alfredo — she said, walking over to the stove — I know you’re selective with what you eat.

— You know I don't mind eating something different on special occasions.

Ava looked up at him, the corners of her lips turning up.

— This is a special occasion?

— Of course.

— Why?

— It's not every day I have dinner with someone like you.

— Like me? — she raised an eyebrow.

— You know… Special — Toto replied, in a low voice, feeling particularly proud of himself when she looked back at the pan in front of her, her cheeks slightly red. It was almost as if she was shy and not the incredibly confident woman who had caught his attention in their first phone messages.

After breaking the silence with a little joke, he offered to open the wine. While he poured the glasses, she drained the spaghetti and set it aside for when the sauce was ready. When Toto handed the wine to his hostess, she smiled.

— Thank you — Ava said, sipping the liquid with a curious gleam in her eyes.

Dinner was leisurely, the delicious food pairing well with the good win and their shared laughter over a few anecdotes from the days when the seat in front of him on the private jet was occupied by the same person on every flight. Niki had always been his main encourager in his search for a new love, or at least for a casual fuck, after all, "he had needs that couldn't be solved with punches on the table". Toto always tried to get him to change the subject, but it was almost impossible, especially when the former driver started talking about his adventures after Marlene's divorce.

“Niki would like her”, he thought to himself, watching as Ava took another bite of chicken, smiling a little as she realized Toto was looking at her.

— Everything’s good? — she asked, after swallowing.

— Yeah. I was just thinking about something a friend of mine said...

— About me?

— About relationships.

She placed the cutlery on the plate, curiosity making her eyes sparkle.

— Would you mind sharing?

Toto smiled.

— Well, like I told you, I've been single for a while. And this friend of mine said that I was only like this because I didn't use his approach.

— And what would that be?

— Don't talk too much, focus on the goal and achieve it — Toto said, making Ava laugh.

— Very pragmatic, isn’t he?

— It’s a very… Austrian way of looking at things.

— And you, as a good Austrian, share this vision?

He took a sip of wine.

— I prefer to take life a little slower. Besides, I think it's obvious that I talk too much.

Ava laughed again, throwing her head back, her neck with the golden necklace completely exposed. Something about that vision made him feel something warm run over his skin, while imagination made a less than innocent scene unfold in his mind. It was as if his own body was asking him to give in to his own desire and experience the taste of the soft and delicate skin of the woman in front of him.

And he was tempted to give in, his mouth suddenly dry and his face warm.

However, Toto just smiled.

After they finished eating, Ava invited him into the living room to continue their conversation. With the bottle of wine on the light wooden coffee table, they were sitting in front of the fireplace, which was crackling softly. Sipping the contents of the glasses slowly, the two chatted about trivialities, such as their plans for winter break.

Until all the wine he had consumed started to manifest itself in his bladder.

— Ava, where is the bathroom?

— In the hallway, on the left — she replied, extending her hand to take his glass — Feel free.

He got up and followed the direction Ava had pointed out. As he passed by the mirror in the apartment's hall and saw his messy hair, Toto couldn't help but think about what it would be like to feel her fingers sinking through his hair, pulling his head against her in a kiss filled with desire. “I definitely need to kiss this woman”, he thought to himself, grabbing the handle and opening the door.

However, after patting the wall for the switch and turning on the lights, Toto realized that it wasn't the bathroom.

Unlike the rest of the apartment, that room was not bright or light. The walls were painted in a mysterious shade of gray, which matched the tones of the blanket and pillows on the bed, which was large and had a particularly reinforced metal structure, with four columns forming a kind of frame over the mattress.

Walking slowly towards the bed, Toto knew he shouldn't be there, but at the same time, he wanted to stay there and try to figure out what the room was for.

It was as if he was discovering a secret side of Ava; a very different side from what she had presented until then. After a few seconds of wondering what the metal half-moons welded to the structure were for, he found the answer hanging on the wall, just above a black velvet chaise that was placed in the corner of the room.

It definitely wasn't what he expected from a woman like Ava.

On the hooks, there were ropes of different thicknesses, whips, paddles, what looked like a swing, and a feather duster.

“A fetish room?”, he asked himself, as he removed one of the ropes from the wall. Running his thumb along the fibers, Toto found that they were firm but soft, clearly made to bind a person. Giving it a tug to test its resistance, he felt somewhat perplexed by his own discovery, after all, Ava didn't seem like a woman who liked that kind of thing.

When Toto imagined himself with her in his arms, he saw an almost romantic scene. The bodies intertwined, the low moans, the lips parted, as if searching for each other in the haze of pleasure. He could feel her contract around him as her orgasm took over her, her green eyes rolling back as her muscles trembled.

— I think this is a little advanced for you — someone said behind him. With a start, Toto looked back, meeting the serious gaze of Ava, who was standing near the door.

— Yeah... Well — he stammered, a bit startled, as she dug something out of the closet behind her. After a few seconds, Ava walked towards him and took the ropes from his hands, placing two pieces of black satin in place.

— I think this is more of your speed.

Staring at the soft fabric, Toto felt his stomach turn with embarrassment. He definitely shouldn't be there, snooping around Ava's things. However, his natural curiosity had overcome any sense of common sense, which had already been diminished by the wine.

— What are they?

— Those are satin sashes. They’re softer, better for beginners.

— I mean — he hesitated — These things, this place...

Ava smiled a little.

— I think you already know, don't you?

Toto looked up at her, almost shyly.

— Uh… Do you like being tied up?

The suggestion made Ava laugh, shaking her head.

— No, Toto — she replied, in a low voice — I like doing the tying.

Toto stared at her in silence, his heart beating heavily. He knew that many people liked to tie up and even do other things with their partners during sex, even as a way to spice up the relationship. But he had never been in a relationship with someone who lived that lifestyle to the fullest.

Even Ava.

He thought about how innocent he had been to imagine that a woman like her would have a different posture in bed. Ava was intelligent, determined, powerful and, above all, she was aware of her own power, as shown by the way she walked around the paddock with well-fitted blazers in sober colors. And, by God, that was sexy.

— I know what you're thinking, Toto — she said, taking the hand that held the satin sash — How is it possible for a woman to dominate a man? Honestly, it’s one of my favorite questions to answer.

With his eyes fixed on her, Toto watched as Ava gently opened his hands, her fingers sliding across his skin and igniting a flame inside his chest.

— The fun of the game of domination and submission is precisely the possibility of assuming different roles in the sexual dynamics. It's not limiting yourself to the vision others have of you and expressing your most intimate desires in a safe and controlled context — she continued, removing the satin sash from his hand — And that's why I entered this world.

— Do you… Um, spank? — Toto asked softly, feeling his mouth dry.

— Yes, when it is necessary to bring my partner to submission — Ava replied, as she walked past him, still holding his hand — And if it's within my partner's limits. In the end, what matters inside this room is not pain or power. It's trust. The trust my partner has to surrender to my control.

Looking at their hands, Toto felt his entire body tingle.

— Control…

— Yes. Control. I control the scenario, the scenes, the objects that will be used, everything to bring pleasure to my partner — she said, somewhere behind him — That's what being a domme is, Toto.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he could feel his own pulse roaring in his ears as Ava's fingers slid across his shoulders.

— Do you know… Men that… Like that? — Toto finally managed to ask, his eyes searching Ava's face, whose lips were curved in a deliciously suggestive smile.

— Submissive men? Yes — Ava replied softly — In fact, you'd be surprised to know how many rich, powerful men find pleasure in not having any power in the bedroom.

The last sentence made Toto think of Stefano's words during dinner in Porto Cervo, about him being a powerful man. Although he ignored that rosy view of his own work, there was a grain of truth in that statement; he actually had power within that world, even if he hadn't worked for it but only for the team in which he had shares. It was precisely what made his role not just a job, but a burden.

It was difficult to deal with the attention, the spotlight, the fans, the demands. Despite being intoxicating, the power he held was stressful, not to mention toxic. And there were days when what Toto wanted most was fresh air.

With his eyes locked on Ava's, he was sure that, finally, he could breathe.

Bringing one of her hands to his face, she slowly approached him. The touch between their lips was careful, almost as if it could break them into thousands of pieces inside that room. Ava's perfume, with its floral and musky notes, enveloped him like a hug that Toto never wanted to leave. However, when he tried to reciprocate, his arms didn't respond, something soft holding his wrists together.

The discovery made him move his face away from hers, scared.

— I'm tied up — Toto said, as he moved his wrists, making Ava smile.

— No, you're not — she said — It's a simple knot, just push your wrists outward at the same time, and it will come loose.

As he repeated her instructions, the satin band gave way, freeing his wrists. As he brought them forward, he rubbed his skin with his hands, a little embarrassed at having reacted so abruptly to what she had done. But, it wasn’t like he could say he didn’t enjoy the adrenaline rush.

— Ava? — Toto said softly, looking up tentatively at her.

— Yes?

Something in the back of his mind asked him to give in to his own desire, which tingled across his skin in a stubborn, not to say insistent, way. Toto wanted that woman no matter what, even on her terms.

— Can you tell me where the bathroom is?

Ava smiled, before leading him out of the room and directing him to the right door inside the apartment. As he closed himself inside the cubicle, Toto let out a heavy sigh, staring at his own reflection in the mirror. His face was red and his breathing was heavy. His pants felt too tight and his shirt rubbed uncomfortably against his skin.

He didn't expect to react like this to his discovery about Ava. Not that she didn't provoke desire in him, quite the opposite. But there was something about the idea of allowing her to take control of his pleasure that made something below his belly button tingle and his heart beat faster.

What if he liked it?

What if he got hurt?

What if she made him feel good?

What if she scared him?

What if it was the best experience of his life?

What if it was the most traumatic experience of his life?

Shaking his head, Toto looked back at the sink, trying to focus on his own breathing and not the heat he was feeling. Ava hadn't extended any invitation to dominate him, but the knot with the satin sash had been enough for a seed to be planted in his mind. And, incredible as it seemed, it was already sprouting.

After washing his hands and face, he returned to the living room in silence, finding Ava sitting on the couch, staring at her own glass of wine. Trying to hide the strange silence, he looked at his watch to find the time.

— Well, I think it's time for me to go home.

She got up from the sofa with the glass still in her hand, a shy smile on her face.

— Are you sure? We haven't finished the wine yet.

Toto looked at his glass, which still had some of the golden liquid in the bottom. He was tempted to stay and finish the bottle with Ava, but something told him it was time to stop. He needed to process that night with a clear head.

— Yeah. Oxford is a bit far and I don't want to get home too late.

As he said that, Ava's expression seemed to lose its shine, even though there was still a cordial smile on her lips. Leaving the glass on the coffee table, she walked him to the door, one hand resting on his lower back, the touch sending a warm wave through Toto's body.

— Well, I thank you for accepting my invitation. It was a great dinner — she said, opening the apartment door while he put on his coat and shoes.

— I need to thank you, you are a great cook.

They stared at each other for a few seconds in silence. “Do I talk about that?”, Toto wondered.

— So, I'll see you in the paddock?

— Oh, yeah. Absolutely — he replied, forcing a smile — See you later, Ava.

— See you — she said softly, as Toto walked past her and left the apartment, his heart beating heavy in his chest. When he heard the door close behind him, he let out a long sigh, as if he was finally reaching the surface after a deep dive into some wreck area, as he liked to do when he was in Porto Cervo.

However, contrary to what he imagined, he didn't want to get on the boat and go back to the hotel, quite the opposite. Toto has never wanted so much to dive back in to explore Ava's depths, to uncover what was behind those well-cut blazers and flawless makeup.

He just didn't know if he had the breath for it.

#toto wolff #formula 1 fic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #toto wolff x oc #formula 1 x oc #formula one x oc #f1 x oc #toto wolff smut #liowlff

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bananadrinkxxx · 1 year ago

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The BLOOD CROWN

[Aemond Fanfiction ] reposted on wattpad

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC female!

Warning: Dark Romance / Enemies to Lovers.

Summary

"𝗜𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗞𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘀𝗲𝗲𝗸 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗲, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗤𝘂𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹."

Queen Alicent had spoken the truth when these words had left her mouth, the moment the King decided not to punish Princess Rhaenyra's son for taking the eye of her child. In the night, in the safe place of her chambers, she gave the order to have Lucery's Velaryon taken and sold into slavery. But a regrettable misunderstanding causes Larys Strong's men to take, not the culprit, but Aemma Velaryon, Rhaenyra's youngest child, and banish her to a life of suffering and loneliness.

Aemma Velaryon had not been seen since then but the gods do not forget and sometimes fate strikes back harder than you would have expected.

- PART 1 -

Then they say every end (...) ...

PRESENT - KING'S LANDING. RED KEEP.

"How does it feel, brother?"

Aemond looked up. He hadn' noticed how Aegon had entered his chambers.

He had been so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn't even heard his brother approach him. A shame, considering his years of training with Ser Criston Cole.

The smell of alcohol hit him.

A wine bag in his hand and eye rings as dark as night and eyes as red as fire. He looked pathetic, but Aemond was sure he looked more pathetic. He smelled his own stench and he knew that his condition was unsightly. Greasy hair that fell into his face. Silver hair that had lost its luster and an unshaven face that could not hide his pale skin.

"...knowing you've killed the woman you loved?"

Aegon had always been very direct.

That was probably the only good quality about him.

Otherwise, he was just a boozy, sickly looking man, plagued by his injuries, who by the luck of his birth, had become king. Aemond wondered if Aegon was the most pathetic king the seven kingdoms had ever had. He was definitely a candidate for it.

"And how does it feel to you?" rasped Aemond. His voice was rough. He hadn't spoken in days, and hadn't intended to, but Aegon had always known how to make him do things he didn't want to do.

"Me?" Aegon asked mockingly with a raised eyebrow as he dropped into the vacant chair next to Aemond.

Aemond looked at Aegon snidely. "Who gave the order to attack King's Landing?"

"Since when do you follow my orders, brother?"

Good question. Never, actually.

"That was your own decision, wasn't it?"

"She wasn't supposed to be there." Aemond didn't know why he was defending himself.

But she was there. Right where he had burned everything to the ground. Right there where she wasn't supposed to be.

"To be precise, I got the information from you, Aegon, which is why I wonder-," he turned directly to his brother for the first time. He leaned forward a bit, and he watched Aegon's eyes grow wide, almost fearful. "-was it you? Did you want me to kill her? That I would be the one and not you?"

Aegon made a pained, indignant sound. Anger came into his eyes.

"I would never have killed her."

"No? She would never have accepted you as king. Never bent the knee. After everything our family did to her. She would have been always an danger to you, to us, to this reign."

"I would have exiled her. Somewhere, Pentos or some other place where she would have been safe and she couldn't have been a threat."

"Ridiculous. She was the threat. Do you really think she would have stayed there?"

"I would have made sure of it."

"You couldn't even make sure she wasn't there when I attacked. "

For a moment, her eyes appeared in front of his inner eye. Her beautiful eyes filled with love and hate.

A painful twinge made him wince.

The memory of her had tormented him for days.

"It's not my fault. I would rather have seen her locked up than in ashes."

"And her freedom?"

"That is something she lost the moment she decided to help our sister."

"I am surprised, Aegon. You're even crueler than I thought."

Aegon jumped to his feet.

The alcohol wafted up and his chair fell over backwards. His whole body shook with anger and the veins in his eyes stood out. It was an unsightly sight.

"I didn't want her dead. I gave her a way out."

"Well now she is dead, so in the end you really gave her a way out."

"It wasn't my dragon who burned her alive."

Arrogant Bastard.

Now Aemond stood up as well. His brother's arrogance and self-promotion pissed him off.

He stepped toward Aegon and reached for his shirt.

"It was your order, Aegon. Your fucking order, you pathetic excuse of a king. Don't play the victim when it was your words that sealed her death."

Aegon made a sound filled with pain. Anger gave way to pain and pain gave way to sorrow. Tears came to his eyes and it was not long before the first tear ran down his cheek. He collapsed and it was only Aemond who held him up. He had never reacted like this when his son or Helaena had died.

Never had his brother seemed so pathetic.

Aemond let go of him and watched as his brother slumped.

"I didn't want it," he affirmed, crying bitterly. He propped his elbows on his shaking knees while supporting his head with his hands. "I loved her."

"Well, your love will be remembered forever."

"They told me to order it."

They? Who was 'they'?

"Who did what?" Aemond's voice was hard.

Silence.

"Damn, Aegon. Who is 'they'? Talk to me, you miserable bastard!" He grabbed Aegon's hair and pulled his brother's head back so that he had to face him.

Aegon looked at him in irritation. "You don't know? They said she was at dragonstone when I gave the order."

"I wouldn't ask if I knew. I swear to you, if you don't tell me right now who-"

"Mother. The council."

For a second, everything felt numb. A static went through his ears and Aegon's words rang out over and over. It suddenly felt hard to breathe.

"You're lying," Aemond pressed out. This could not be the truth. "You're lying," he repeated. Never. No way. No fucking way.

They wouldn't.

She wouldn't.

Aegon smiled. It was a tired, exhausted smile. It was completely out of place, and yet it couldn't have been more fitting.

"If it makes you sleep better, little brother."

"Mother would never have lied to you."

"Of course not."

"She would never have lied to me."

"Probably."

Aemond let go of his brother. Aegon sank back, while Aemond stumbled backward and held on convulsively to the table beside him. His knuckles stood out white.

He knew that look Aegon gave him.

He had looked at him like that before.

Back when he had begged him not to force him to become king.

Aemond wondered if she would still be alive if he hadn't followed his cursed sense of honor then. If he had resisted and let his brother escape.

Perhaps then many things would have been different.

Yes, they had won this battle.

But they lost the most valuable thing.

... (...) had an beginning.

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bohemian-nights · 1 year ago

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I can't believe I saw a Tumblr post DEFENDING Rhaenyra for pursuing and wanting to sleep with Daemon at Laena's funeral, they basically said it was because she was a victim of his grooming (which is true she was groomed by him) and she couldn't help herself which is.... Rhaenyra is a grown ass woman, the heir to the iron throne, and is expected to take over and rule once her father passes she knew exactly what she was doing, in the scene with Laena she wasn't a victim she genuinely did not give a fuck about Laena's death or even Harwin for that matter and got with Daemon, now you can say that yeah, Daemon had Rhaenyra believe that they were "soul mates" and that they were meant to be but that is no excuse for her to jump on him the moment his wife's casket hits the bottom on the ocean, and this isn't taking blame of Daemon but.... it's Daemon, expecting Daemon to be a decent human being is almost impossible to hope for. He's the rogue prince who hosted a celebration after his sister-in-law/cousin and nephew's death, who murdered his wife and neglected his own children. And here you have Rhaenyra, who the show tries but fails to put on this progressive feminist pedestal. Rhaenyra is the equivalent of those women who don't care for equality and instead want to power and privilege men all to herself so she can hold power over others, there's no defence for why Rhaenyra chooses YES chooses to sleep with Daemon the night of Laena's funeral, she did it cause she could care less about Laena and because she wanted to, she didn't need to rush to get with Daemon but she did it anyways because SHE DID NOT CARE ABOUT LAENA AND ONLY CARES ABOUT WHAT SHE WANTS! Sorry for the lengthy rant, but seeing how far people will go to defend Rhaenyra's actions and try to infantilze her in order to justify her actions piss me off and it's only going to get worst when Nettles steps onto the scene. They're already finding bullshit excuses to justify her degradation towards Nettles, which means it's just going to get worse. Laena's Character (and people need to shut the hell up about the books and stop using that as a pathetic excuse) did not deserve to be treated that way, Rhaenyra never liked her, she was all to happy to see 12 year old Laena married off the Viserys, she was glaring daggers at her while she danced with Daemon during the wedding feast and of course she could care less seeing Laena's casket dropped to the bottom on the ocean once that means she can get a chance to get with Daemon.

It's very weird. They know that it makes Rhaenyra look pathetic chasing after Daemon(who should’ve told her to f*ck off, but he seems to love the throne/Viserys more than anything so Rhaenyra was an easy way in) when his wife just died, asking him if he was happy with Laena, and begging him to marry her(if a man loves you, you don’t have to beg him for anything) so they come up with a million and one excuses to justify her behavior.

I’ve even seen them try to say that Laena was the one originally in the wrong cause she “stole” Daemon away from Rhaenyra so Rhaenyra was well within her right to go after and reclaim “her man”🫠 (Receipts because I know people will say I’m lying):

You are right that since Rhaenyra’s wedding, she’s behaved like a jealous cow towards Laena. There is no justification for that considering Daemon could’ve told Laena to f*ck off if he was actually in love with Rhaenyra, but nope. The wedding descends into chaos, Rhaenyra could be trampled, but where is Daemon? Off with Laena. Keep in mind that this is after her a** asks him to take her away and marry her(yes Missy Anne asked him twice🤣) which he doesn’t do, but you know who he does marry instead? Laena didn’t have to beg him to do it(their marriage was f*cked up but she never begged him to be with her. Home boy “chose” her 🤷🏽‍♀️).

Oh god, it’s no wonder why they still are obsessed with Laena 🤣 Imagine being “irrelevant” and having your story f*cked over because of racism, but you still have people mad and jealous of you for existing and making their fave “look bad.”

This is why I laugh when people claim that Dumbnyra has been portrayed as “soulmates” on the show. Like we clearly aren’t watching the same show. Rhaenyra is obsessed with Daemon, but his a** only sees her as a tool.

I’m getting a little distracted myself, but let’s keep in mind that these people justifying a grown a** Rhaenyra, being of sound mind and body, throwing herself at a freshly widowed man are the same ones throwing a hissy fit at Nettles being with Daemon.

If we use their logic, Daemon and Nettles love each other so even if Daemon cheats on Rhaenyra(i.e. unlike in the books they don’t have an open marriage) it should be all good because they can’t help it 🤷🏽‍♀️ They love one another, Daemon would die for Netty, and you just can’t keep a love like that apart. Nettles doesn’t owe Rhaenyra anything (including respect) just like Rhaenyra didn’t owe Laena anything. So it’s fine that Daemon left Rhaenyra’s a** to become dragon food😊 Rhaenyra shouldn’t be mad because it’s love. Right. Right🙃

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redhatmeg · 1 year ago

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So now we get to the controversial part of Sanji's subplot: him calling Robin for help while being held hostage by Black Maria.

Earlier Sanji asked Black Maria what she's going to do with Robin, and the spider-woman told him about various tortures she's going to perform on Robin. She even describes traps she prepared for the archeologist.

Now, giving the various declarations of protection Sanji said throughout the series, and his strong sense of camraderie and defience, one would expect for him to never yield. The other women even think that he will say: "Screw you!"

But he doesn't. He calls for help, which from outsider's perspective looks probably pathetic, as if Sanji was preferring to save his own skin than not get Robin captured.

The thing is... Robin is fucking badass. She can handle herself and I would argue that she would perfectly suit with Monstrous Trio (making them a Monstrous Quartet, hehe) with how she effortlessly handles most of the bad guys. She also is smart enough to detect traps, so really they underestimate her (which is weird considering that she's called Demon Child).

I would say that he could ask for help anyone else, not necesserily Robin (he was, after all, okay with Zoro fighting Monet, so a guy friend could do too), but maybe he didn't know if they are busy with something more pressing than him falling into a trap. Besides, maybe he also wanted to show his enemies that Robin will mop the floor with them.

But I've heard this scene is controversial because people had seen Sanji's inability to hit a female opponent as something he has to overcome; as some kind of mental obstacle. Therefore him calling Robin for help is him refusing to fight with Black Maria and delegating someone else to do it.

However, I think it's like with characters who have no-kill rule. Yes, it would probably be easier and the character in question would avoid many troubles on the way if they broke the rule... but it's a moral issue, a line that, if crossed, would change them drastically and maybe even break them. Besides, there is always a deep reason for the rule that is rooted with the character's origin and way of thinking. With Sanji, it's Zeff's teachings... but also Germa's disregard for human life in general (we could see that Sanji's brothers also share his pervert reactions to women, but they treat them poorly, like tools; they even beaten up a female chef just to screw with Sanji). He doesn't want to be a man who hits women, even if said women want to kill him.

And I get why people are frustrated that he gets a female oppontent he can't fight yet again, but I don't want him to break his moral code. I don't want him to lose part of what he is. Especially because, other than that, he's still one of the heavy hitters of Straw Hat crew. Let him call for help once in a blue moon.

Also, he's not running away after he gets saved. He runs to save the samurai. He's still fighting.

#meg rewatches one piece #one piece #black leg sanji #nico robin #black maria

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hereforthefanficsandromance · 1 year ago

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The Way He Looks at You Series I:XIII

Act I: The Way He Looks at You Chapter 13: The Way He Visits You

Read on AO3 Read on Blogger Read on Tumblr Story Master List: The Way He Looks at You Series

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Chapter Summary

You make a new friend, and see an old one. Rating: 18+ Words: 3.1K

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The room feels empty now that Cal has left and you find yourself unsure what to do now that you have almost complete freedom. You have only spent a couple hours alone since the end of your relationship with Theo and being in a strange place makes the loneliness feel more extreme. You had been so excited to have this time, and now that it is here, you feel lost.

A wicked thought crosses your mind, the chance at escape, you have the resources to do so. There would be a significant head start before Cal would realize that you had run off, maybe enough time to warn your fellow Rebels and get them out of harm’s way. An opportunity to restart, away from the Empire and the Rebellion, away from all the pain that you have felt from both sides of the Force.

Is the risk worth it? You already made the choice, attempting an escape now is risky, maybe more than before when Cal had provided you the choice. Even if you had time to warn the others, you can imagine that Cal would hunt down everyone you cared for and then yourself with a vengeance once he realized your betrayal.

Is that what is keeping you here, fear? You aren’t sure, so you attempt to change how you ponder the feelings inside of you. If there was no risk of anyone being hurt or killed, would you still choose to stay? No immediate answer comes forward, so you sit on the edge of the bed and await clarity on the topic.

Mulling over your feelings for Cal confuses you more, he has given into your every desire and been fair considering his position in the galaxy. However, he did also seduce you in a moment of weakness. You haven’t exactly been in your right mind since Theo broke up with you.

You try to sift through who you are now versus who you were just a few days ago, but it’s hard to remember that person. Several days now feels like several years and you huff before falling backwards on the bed, staring at the texture on the ceiling.

Trying to think back to the woman you were when you first began piloting, before meeting Theo. She was determined but afraid; the determination won out. That woman wasn’t looking for safety in a man, just safety and peace for others. She wanted to do anything and everything possible to fight back against the Empire. You feel you hardly know that person.

Here you are, waiting for an Inquisitor to return to you; worrying for his safety while you spend his money. It’s almost pathetic, you hate yourself for succumbing to temptation. You can’t imagine how your old self would react to seeing what has become of you. There is a deep sense of shame in the decision.

Then another thought hits you, you didn’t agree to stay with just any Inquisitor; you stayed with Cal. He didn’t choose this life, and he is doing what he can to fulfill his duty while protecting who he can. There was even the implication that if the Empire should fall, he would abandon it for you. He isn’t evil; he is just as terrified of the power of the Empire as anyone.

You wonder if staying with Cal won’t do more good in the grand scheme of things. Had you left, Cal would fight back in the off chance the Rebellion attacks and wins. He would cause more loss of life in a last battle.

By staying, you ensure that if the future plays out how you hope it will, that one Inquisitor will leave and take no additional lives.

But if that day never comes, then your choice to stay only makes you compliant with everything you have fought against. There is no obvious answer on what makes sense, perhaps you’ll never know what choice is correct.

You sigh out a breath, so overwhelmed by all the conflicting thoughts in your head. There is half the day left and you are becoming hungry, so you sit up, shaking the conflict from your mind. You go into the bathroom to confirm your appearance is the way you want. Tugging awkwardly at the revealing dress, it doesn’t bother you when Cal is around, but the thought of others seeing so much of your skin makes you uncomfortable.

You finally give up your plight to be more modest and open the front door. You quickly lock up before heading down the stairs and out into the bright day. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the invasive light, but once they do you look for a place to get some food.

There is a small food cart, and you grab something small and portable from the vendor. While you would love to have a full meal, you are also eager to visit the various shops. You eat the snack as you window shop, taken with all the stores in this area. The market is bustling and people seem less weary of you now that you are by yourself. You still receive many glances, likely because of your clothing, but there isn’t an innate fear of your presence.

A small bookshop sits at the corner of one street and you find yourself drawn inside. You feel at peace the moment you enter. It is quiet; the shelves crowded with novels. It is a perfect place to spend the afternoon. You wander through the aisles in no particular order, simply enjoying the peaceful environment. A beautiful book catches your eye and you pull it from the shelves to study the description. Finding a seat in the window to read the first chapter to help you make your decision.

You spend most of the afternoon in a fantastical bliss, going to and from the shelves with a new book in hand. Every time reading the first chapter before returning the book to its home and finding a new one. There was never much time for reading since losing your family. There was always work to be done in the Rebellion and you loved the work. But without direction, you want to find something new to keep your mind busy.

You find yourself lost in the first chapter of an interesting novel when you feel a tap on the shoulder. A small Gree woman is standing over you, clearly the owner of this establishment.

“Struggling to decide?” She asks in common tongue.

You look up at her, settling the book in your lap. “I’m afraid so, there are so many interesting stories and it may be awhile before I can buy another book. I don’t want to make the wrong choice.”

She nods thoughtfully, “That is the trouble with books, you may never return to the story you once loved.”

You frown, “I wish I didn’t have to choose.”

She studies you for a moment, “I may have what you need.”

You tilt your head at her in curiosity. “What do you mean?”

She takes the book from your lap and places it back in its home on the shelf. Then she takes your large hands in her small soft ones and pulls you to follow. You stand and follow without further question but wonder if you should be more resistant to following strangers. Cal said take no risks, but you don’t feel this woman is a threat.

She leads you to the back of the shop towards a rickety old door. You momentarily worry you shouldn’t follow her further, but you want to know what she has in mind. The tiny woman opens the door and pulls you into a room with a workbench and many electronic parts lining the walls.

“I have been working on something.” She says excitedly. “A new way to read, it will access all books available on local databases. The more you travel the more books you can find. You do travel often?” She asks, glancing at your heavy cloak.

“I do.” You say, looking back at her with equal excitement. “Your invention, it sounds amazing!”

She smiles wide at your enthusiasm. “It is, I made it after all. This is a prototype, I will sell it to you at a discounted price. You can test it out for me, send word if you like it or if it needs improvements.”

She hands you a thin book sized datapad. You examine it carefully and press the button to bring the device to life. A huge smile overtakes your face as you learn how the device works. The Gree woman helps teach you the nuances of the datapad. You are both beaming at one another, excited to have someone else match the thrill of a device to read endless books on.

After about an hour of learning how the device operates, you agree on a price. The cost is most of your spending money, but not all. If it works well, you will have endless entertainment when waiting for Cal while he works. The woman introduces herself as Kaahlii and provides you with a way to contact her through the datapad. You introduce yourself and she walks you back into the main store front to collect payment.

“Thank you Kaahlii, I am so grateful for your kindness and am very excited to use your invention.” You say as you hand over the credits.

You quickly realize that you have no way to store the device on your person and Kaahlii notices your strife. “No storage? No problem.”

She heads to a distant corner of the store and brings a black leather satchel large enough to fit your new device. You smile at her and agree on another price for the bag. Just as you are about to shake on the deal you see a package of folding papers for sale on the corner of the front desk.

“I’ll give you the rest of my credits for the bag and the folding papers.” You negotiate. She thinks for a moment then holds out her hand, you eagerly shake it with a smile and pass over your remaining spending credits. She opens the bag and places your datapad inside. Then she walks towards the folding papers counting up how many she has available, even looking under the desk to see if there are any additional.

You watch a bit confused. You had only wanted one package and aren’t sure why she is counting her inventory. She takes the entire stack and fills the remaining space in your bag with all the folding paper she can fit. You furrow your eyebrows but a grin is stuck on your face.

“For trying out my invention.” She says simply.

“You are too kind.” You say back as you pick up the satchel and wrap the strap across your body, ensuring to cover it with your cloak.

She gives you an approving nod and grasps your hands in hers once more. “I want a response when you have used it for enough time, an honest opinion on my work.”

“I will be in touch.” You say and squeeze her hands gently before turning to exit the store.

You are on cloud nine with the lovely afternoon you had in Kaahlii’s shop. There is a bit of shame in spending all your money so quickly, but you feel it was a wonderful investment, like it was always going to happen this way.

The small snack from earlier has worn off and you realize how hungry you are. You find a nearby eatery and order some food before taking a seat alone at a table in the corner. While you eat you eagerly pull out your reading datapad and power it up, searching for all books that you can get in the area. You spend lots of time adding as much as you can to the device, excited to have such easy access to so many lovely books.

“What are you doing here?” A familiar voice sounds to your left, standing at the edge of your table.

You look up, recognition setting in. “Theo?”

He stares at you in confusion before sliding into the seat opposite you. You look around nervously, fearful that Cal may show up suddenly; afraid of what would have to happen if the two saw one another.

Despite the fear, your heart leaps seeing him again. He is as attractive as ever, his messy dark hair falling into his kind gray eyes. They draw you in, reminding you of your relationship together, making you feel special. His looks are enough to make you feel heat between your legs, but you try to ignore it. Theo doesn’t want you, he made that very clear, lusting after him will only cause more trouble.

“Why are you here?” Theo says, his eyes show how concerned he is. “No one has seen you, I thought you went back to Yavin 4, but I contacted the base to ensure you got there safely and there was no word of your arrival.”

The thought of him still feeling concern for your safety warms you slightly. You want so badly for him to take you in his arms and tell you he still loves you. You realize you haven’t answered his question when he speaks again.

“What are you wearing?” He seems a bit horrified at your dress. Though you don’t miss his eyes traveling along the bare skin between your breasts. There is a whisper of lust in his eyes, his pupils dilate, but he seems to resist.

“Theo, I, it’s a long story. I had some things come up, I haven’t been able to rejoin the Rebellion. I’m not sure I ever will.” You try to explain, but you know it won’t be enough, he is going to push for more information.

“Why? I know how much fighting back means to you. Is this about…our conversation from the other morning?” He asks, looking ashamed.

“I suppose it started there.” You try to keep your tone even and not give away the hurt you feel. Unfortunately, your eyes don’t care and tears swell in your eyes.

“I didn’t want to hurt you, I never thought that you would leave the cause because of me.” He tries to explain hastily.

“You broke my heart.” You say slowly, wiping the tears from your eyes.

“I didn’t want it to be this way, I just realized after…that night…that I was falling away from the Jedi Code. There is danger in straying, it could lead me to the Dark Side.” He says quietly, trying to ensure that no one else hears the words he is speaking.

You scoff, “I don’t think that loving me will cause that.” You think about how silly this all sounds since being with Cal. He fell to the Dark Side, and it feels like loving you is pulling him away from it.

Theo frowns, the expression pulls at your heartstrings. Arguing with him won’t change his mind, and you don’t want to have this interaction be on bad terms. You don’t want to see him hurt.

“You don’t understand the training that I received. They forbid attachments.” He tries to reason.

“I don’t understand. You allowed us to date, but you waited until the worst possible moment to break things off. It made me feel insecure, and used.” You say to him pointedly.

He sits quietly, thinking over your words. “I am so sorry for hurting you in that way. I care for you so dearly and I was wrong to not end things before allowing it to go so far.” He says with genuine remorse.

His gray eyes pierce yours, different that Cal’s. Theo’s are soft and caring, he sees so easily into you and you feel calm and safe in his presence. It feels impossible to hold a grudge and you sigh in exasperation.

“I know, it just still hurts.” You mumble.

There is a beat of silence that washes over you both. You are trying to soothe your pain. Theo observes you, wishing he could help.

“What brought you here?” Theo asks, attempting to change the subject.

You feel so torn; you want to tell him the truth, the man whom you have trusted for the past couple years should know. It feels wrong to hide anything from him. But Theo is no longer your boyfriend, and telling him anything would only endanger him.

“I can’t tell you.” You whisper.

Theo sighs, wishing to get more information, he is clearly worried for your safety.

“How long are you staying?” He tries.

“Five days including today.” You answer honestly, there is nothing wrong with providing this information and you feel grateful to speak some truth to him.

You so desperately want to ask for information on the Rebellion, to learn who is still working to fight back against the Empire. To know if any major breakthroughs have come about in the few days that you have been away. But you know better, any information you learn will quench your need for knowledge, but it will put others in danger.

“Is your reason for being here to help the fight?” Theo asks, looking with desperation in his eyes.

You are technically here because you are helping the fight, you just can’t fight anymore. “Something like that.” You say slowly.

Theo nods, “You need to be careful, there is an Inquisitor in the area, I saw one of their ships. I am unsure which one but I do not want you to be in danger.”

He looks at you, waiting for a reaction, knowing how much you fear their kind, especially after what happened to your family. Theo seems more concerned when you don’t react.

“Are you okay? Did you already know?” He implores.

“I was aware.” You say, “You need to leave, the Inquisitors will quickly sniff you out.”

He gives you a charming smile, showing off his white teeth. “I do not fear the Inquisitors, I heard that the one here works alone. Also, I can’t leave now that I know you are here. I need to know you are safe.”

You tremble, realizing that Cal will hunt Theo down if he does not leave you alone. “Please, Theo, you need to leave, I am okay on my own. I’m stronger than I once was.” You feel you are begging.

Theo only shakes his head, “I have to go, I have work to do, but I’ll be around. Please stay safe.”

You watch as Theo stands and heads for the door before disappearing into the early evening crowds. Taking some calming breaths you finish your remaining meal and pack up your things. The sun is setting and you need to get back to the room.

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Next Chapter: The Way He Returns to You

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goatpaste · 1 year ago

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What’s a candy wife 🫣

Ahhh it's kinda a term that spawned from my friend group that's we've spread around in a small radius amongst others lol

But it originally started as a term for 'a fake made up wife' based on candy wife from the marvelous misadventures of flapjack

Like for example, saying like 'I dont beleive that guy has a wife, she's got to be a candy wife or something' in the idea that it's a wife fabricated

Then that evolved into 'fictional idea of a wife, the ideal woman who I would want to be a candy wife to me' which the traits mostly comprised of traits of woman's I likes. It was a joke to me as a single man of the type of person I wanted lol

Which involved like a New Jersey woman, would probably cut my breaks and push me off a balcony or hit me with hammers because she loves me, crazy, type of woman you have a meet cute with in the form of she hits me with her car and manages to blame me for it

Which that has evolved more into a general concept with like, a sorta solid list of traits for what makes up a candy wife and if an individual can make up a solid percent of those traits they could be classified as a candy wife. Doesn't have to have all the traits at once but just a chunk of them

Some traits including

Crazy

Wants to torture their pet husband, usually in funny ways

Would kill for their husband over

New jersey

Leopard print, wine mom paraphernalia

Whore behaviors

Some PRIME top examples of candy wives to me

Fran from the Nanny

Debbie jellinsky from Addams family

Tiffany Valentine from Childs Play

Holli Would from Cools World

Siren from What We Do in the Shadows

Katya Zamolodchikova from Drag queen fame

Candy wives don't have to be just girls tho, there are also male candy wives,their similar bur do carry their own vibe, examples of that would be

Gyro Majima from Yakuza

The king of all Cosmos from Katamari

Preminger from barbie princess in the pauper

Mettaton from undertale

Just to name a few

And their different from husband's of Candy wives, candy wives either are gonna be candy wife for candy wife, often very funny or enabling of each other

or they will often go after 'candy wife prey' which usually entails a very pathetic husband who is obsessed with their candy wife

I literally have a twittee dedicated to daily posting of candy wives for anyone interested in further understanding what can be considered a candy wife :]

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socius-animae · 17 days ago

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You know, I haven't slept since I started thinking about this pathetic man.

This ramble has two topics, 1.3k. So done with life, please go to the section below the cut if you are interested in my views on Zahard actually trying to perpetuate his love for Arlen rather than loving her and Zahard's love and behavior is the result of an unavoidable situation. By the way there is a little bit of my reader insert concept if you curious in how I would create a Zahard x reader relationship.

"Zahard was in love with Arlen Grace, noting that he loved her more than anything."

Okay, that's a statement I took from Zahard's wiki about Arlen. I'm going to describe a few things I still remember about their relationship.

Imagine you are Zahard and now you have someone that you love so much:

That person you love, first over, is reject you feelings no matter how many times you confess.

She reject you, she also fights you, opposes you, has a child with her fiancé, and then you kill her child repeatedly—each time personally using your own hands. (You sound alike to a maniac hh)

you refuse to marry any woman than her

Then making difficult for all the strong women (aka Zahard's Princess) in your kingdom to marry because they must collect something first which might cost their own life.

You also use them as soldiers, and

after more than ten thousand years, despite the many rebellions still remaining in your kingdom, all because of that woman, you continue to love her.

So, Does Zahard actually love Arlen or rather just trying to perpetuate his love and objectificate her?

Before we start, we must know that, Zahard in fact, is practically engaging in violent acts, such as killing Bam and using women as soldiers, meaning his daughters, along with all the troublesome complications of needing to put together a 13-month series. That would also be strange, considering the princesses call him "father" (if I remember correctly). And many more severe problems and wrong doings he do, but this time we will only talk about his feelings towards Arlen and what that emotions caused. It might not covering all stuff.

To me, this seems more like an obsessive attachment rather than genuine, healthy love. True love typically respects the autonomy and well-being of the other person, whereas Zahard’s actions suggest a desire to control and preserve his emotions at any cost.

I also want to discuss how Zahard objectifies Arlen and disregards her wishes as the love of someone who loves her more than anything. Would you really do that to someone you care about and love so much? Well because it's either such as yandere, or there's something wrong with you. Whether it's the definition of love, the way it's expressed, the cause and effect of it, and all of the above.

Right now, I'm doubting Zahard's love for Arlene. Zahard didn't try to kill Arlen or hit her, hurt her psychically or anything like that, if I remember correctly. Which is to say that Zahard might have wanted something sincere? Wouldn't his love be more tender? Also, what was the reason for Zahard's feelings for Arlen?

Arlen is said to be a kind-hearted person and almost no one wants to quarrel with her, wouldn't a person like Arlen tend to bring up something like "Ah, I'm not good enough for her.", which leads to the journey of being more value to add to oneself to be good enough in front of her. It makes sense that Zahard ran out of time wooing Arlen and the rest is resentment that all the effort was in vain.

This guy is so mysterious, it's annoying. So please give me more of those crumbs 😭😭 However, does it make sense to treat the girl you love like that? Hello? Even if it belongs to another man, it's still the child of the girl you like.

Zahard didn't think about Arlen's feelings, he even found pleasure in killing her child. Doesn't that sound like resentment rather than jealousy? It could have been extreme jealousy, either because Zahard was already like that or there were other factors.

This guy's actions make it hard for me to define love. In the traditional sense that knows its limits and doesn't sound like an endless obsession. I also have a feeling, is Zahard's love gradually dying out?

During his meeting with Bam on the hidden floor, you know, where there's data Eduan (hehe, he's so handsome), it says in the wiki, Zahard no longer wants to kill Bam out of hatred.

Zahard once continuously declared his love for Arlene, so isn't this a decline? I assume Zahard also has the power to lock Arlen up somewhere or just force himself on Arlene. That sounds pretty normal, then again so what? You failed to move on😭

should I just reconcile myself with "Zahard loves Arlen more than anything." Please, what are these parameters of anything? Is it okay if Zahard doesn't respect Arlen's wishes. Was Zahard there trying to snatch Arlen away from V? Other than the constant confession?

If Zahard really loves Arlen "more than anything" then he will let V and Arlen be happy, because Arlen is more important than his own happiness, more important than the desire and lust to be loved by Arlen.

You know, it's different when you say "more than anything". That's very selfless (so demure). You love her more than yourself. More than your own personal interests and desires. That's really sweet, but this is how you treat her. And you still call it love and not something that's kind of an identity that you've forced yourself into?

Is loving Arlene an extension of the ego? We can't say because we don't know why Zahard fell in love with Arlen. Or is it just me who forgot, if it's a matter of personality then it would be back to the paragraph above.

We also don't know anything about Arlen other than things related to Bam, grudges, anger, but Arlen has a gentle girl's atmosphere, then if she's that desperate, on the verge of madness because of Zahard, then what is love for Zahard if it's so brave as to be defined as above everything else.

I refuse to call that love. And we continue to wonder many things such as the truth of Zahard's love, is it all just a justification for the emotion rooted in love, why is this topic so difficult? I had a hard time figuring it out.

Although Arlen is lovable, she deserves to be treated with dignity. And Zahard didn't do that. Maybe Zahard just loved Arlen, that love was twisted because things changed Zahard, and didn't love her more than anything else.

Maybe, how SIU presented how Zahard love Arlen, just a traditional thing to add a lot of drama and mystery, avoiding unimportant plot holes like relationships and questionable motivations. Zahard's actions were either obsession, love out of normality, bent, or feelings that Zahard labeled, directed only towards Arlen it was more like symbolism.

So, my conclusion should I call it love? Obsession? Something that defines a person? Something you need to guard for your own sake? Something blinding you to everything? Something that changes you? Maybe it's love but you don't care about its autonomy. Well this can be seen from many angles, but I will use a certain angle for the sake of my concept haha.

Now, onto the discussion of my reader-insert concept. If we're discussing canon, then yes, it would ultimately be up to SIU, the creator of TOG, since we, as readers, can only assume things. But this also opens up the opportunity for us to have fun with the fiction.

my concept is: what if there is someone Zahard truly loves? This person is the one who triggered Zahard’s obsession with Arlen. Oh, not that he’s taking it out on Arlen—maybe that’s possible, but I feel like that’s not quite right.

This "someone" (or you) is actually one of the warriors climbing the tower. So, where were you? Nowhere, really. There was something, but you needs to be removed from the picture because you’ve done too many things wrong by changing things that were supposed to happen but didn’t because of your actions.

For example, Zahard’s love that was meant for Arlen is now directed toward you. That love is still delicate and pure—really akin to naive love—but if you continue this, the future of the TOG story will never happen. And that’s bad, okay?

Why is it bad? Let’s just say you climbed the tower with the agreement that you wouldn’t interfere or significantly influence things. So, accepting Zahard’s love would be a violation of that agreement. That love must either be redirected or terminated, and he must grow a new love specifically for Arlen.

You must take responsibility for your actions. So, you repeatedly erase Zahard’s memories and the memories of your friends who might share the same "seed." You do this often enough for Zahard himself to start feeling the strangeness of this "love" directed at Arlen.

It’s like trying to carry water in a bucket with a hole in it—except Zahard can’t describe where he went wrong, so he continues to cling to his feelings directed at Arlen and calls them his form of love. Yet, it’s all just an act to preserve the existence of that love, and so many of his impulses are misdirected toward Arlen.

Now let's lean towards canon knowledge, we can compared to that, Zahard was still said to love Arlen more than anything. I have another perspective. Now the question is why does Zahard express his love like that? Why does he need to go to such lengths for Arlen's affection which is obviously impossible to get with those maniacal things? As per usual we can only speculate.

We could say that it was a snowball effect from the tower climb. Remember, when all the warriors except V, started turning to things that made them get strayed far from humanity as they climbed higher in the tower, I guess that's an acceptable reason considering there's still a lot we don't know about Zahard. But is there a probability that the 12 head families and Zahard didn't take that path on their journey? Can they maintain their power without destroying their empathy?

In one of the flashbacks in Gustang and Traumerei's past arc where Traumerei kills for the first time, I think it's impossible to avoid the degeneration of their compassion for those outside their own main circle or friends. It's like they were forced and the trials and tribulations, the life-threatening tests changed their perception of things.

If we harmonize these reasons, can we consider it plausible that the way Zahard treats his incomparable love is in such an antagonistic way? I mean, dude, come on. You can choose not to move on, keep her name in your soul or whatever, but it's already wrong when you reject her choice to love someone other than yourself.

Like where have you been? You busy trying to be king? Locking up the tower floor? Making complicated deals with administrators? Becoming more powerful? You tried to pursue her and you were too late, she was already engaged to someone. Someone who was also once your comrade-in-arms, which means you had plenty of time to pursue Arlen properly, but why are you like this now. Geez, Zahard is really pathetic.

Of course Zahard still has a hard time accepting this rejection and is single until now, the only thing wrong is how he responds to her rejection. I still don't condone what he did regardless if it's just the way the world works, an unavoidable fate, forced with no way out, absolute law make him twisted, something like that. In terms of concept and character design, I love it, so yeah, it's tough man.

The conclusion this time was that Zahard had been molded in such a way that his love was bent and that caused all sorts of chaos in the tower.

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The second explanation is what everyone would have expected, it was practically teased to the other head of the family. And it does lean towards canon. But oh don't worry dear reader, even still, we can be delusional and think whatever we want about this guy. That's why the fandom exists after all.

And we all love this desperate golden head. So yeah, this is the end of my ramble, although I have a lot to say, but I need to sleep and hope I can actually get beyond the Prologue chapter.

I find it kind of funny that I write for various fandoms but never get past the Prologue chapter or chapter 1. So pray for me, so I can write more and pass my exam.

#soani stuff #zahard x reader #zahard #tog x reader #tower of god #tower of god x reader #kami no tou x reader #Zahard x you #tog x you #tower of god x you #im so done with life #mannnn this fandom need more love #and i also hate “tower of god” tag. because there weird pic that basically oot and bot. i refuse to follow this tah #you also must be more carefull #wth is going on #like wth

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