#i have completely stopped watching any television news after that

[kitty-lemon]

Everytime I read something about Sushant and then I remember how much his death was milked and all that ncb drama which all came from out of control stories. Like people just don't want to accept that bad mental health (depression here) could kill someone or that ppl could commit suicide from something that is not 'pressure'.

[ruruumin]

hi!! I came across you and I thought your work is really amazing!! This is my first time asking something like this haha but for everything a first :) I really love figure skating and I was wondering if you could make a oneshot or any headcannons of the reactions of blue lock characters haha (mostly rin nagi and sae)! (sorry if I made some mistakes, English is t my first language)

ice, ice, baby!

₊˚ ᗢ blue lock various x figure skater! reader.

⤷ what kind of relationships rin, sae, and nagi (separate) would be in.

itoshi rin

“if you’re going to do something, do it with your entire heart.”

rin met you when he was only ten years old. you were his next door neighbor with a feverish dream to become the best figure skater in the world. although it may have been one of the loftiest dreams anyone might hear, he believed in you the same way you did for him. and together, he will see you perform all over the country, with him in arms waiting.

so when a cold rainy day comes and the two of you were walking home together under a shared umbrella, he wanted to say something. but you beat him to it. standing in front of your door, you turned around and smiled, saying only two things: i will be leaving to russia tomorrow morning to train with a new coach. 

this first part came as a no brainer to him, of course you would leave. just as sae did a few months ago, you were beginning to flap the wings you were blessed with. however, the second part was what kept him on his toes, heart punching up to his throat: and i love you, rin.

after departing in the morning, he would stay up late to watch your performances on television. even when he had early practice, it was complete habit to see you on screen. your presence on the ice was unmatched by many of your cohorts in russia. cold and calculative, yet free flowing. like a confident stream you graced the fields with a polished play. alongside a perfectly timed quad axel, it placed you right at the top of the world.

the ultimate power couple. when you’re at the kiss and cry, you’ll say his name to the camera before blowing a kiss. meanwhile, whenever he scores a goal, he’ll raise his fist in a catching motion, bringing it up to his lips as he hides his faint smile behind his hand. your performances will always be dedicated to each other and it drives the press mad (rightfully so). 

when you return to japan, he’s the first person that you see at the airport. in only a matter of seconds, with his extremely long legs and speed, he is wrapping his arms around you tightly, inhaling your scent as he lays his head on your shoulder. 

he would immediately take you back to all your favorite places. during your time away, he had taken a multitude of pictures and sent you dozens of instagram reels of cafes. now that you were here in his arms, it made going to them all the more real (or maybe not, with you sitting in front of him, enjoying a mont blanc and latte, it feels like the perfect dream). 

sleeping in the same bed as him had never felt any better. while you knew him to be a drooler, you would have never expected him to be clingier than a koala. he is keeping you flushed against his chest the entire night. if you think about getting water, he will follow you with arms tangled with yours. 

itoshi sae

“i’ll carve my name into ice while you all watch in awe.” 

the only other person with the same amount of arrogance as him was you, a rebellious teenager he found on the streets of spain. you tried to pickpocket him on his first day in the country. instead of reporting you to the police, he asked you one simple question that changed the trajectory of your life: if you had the chance to do anything, what would it be?

some people viewed you as a lost cause in the figure skating world. having started extremely late compared to your other peers, your name was rubbish and caked in dirt. however, it never stopped sae from coming to see you after every practice, watching as you practiced your spins and salchows underneath the dim lights of the arena with a coach he’d hired. to him, you were a diamond in the rough that just needed a push.

he didn’t think much about your relationship until it was late at night. you were walking back with him to a hotel, face covered with masks to avoid intruding paparazzi. it started off with small talk, like family and friends (you learned he had a very cocky but sweet brother back in japan), but it quickly diverged into something more intimate that had the two of you walking into his room with intertwined pinkies.

when it came time to perform in the qualifying rounds, you had plunged the stadium with wails and tears. overcoming the country’s beloved skater by a wide margin, you stood above everyone, head raised high as you pointed up to the cameras, hardening your gaze as you mouthed sae’s name. you must have known he was watching from the corners of the locker room. 

the world of figure skating was going to change with you, a new generation skater that rose from nothing. 

sae feels immense pride when it comes with you. even though there were many curve balls thrown in your direction, whether it be from bad press or his persistent fanbase, the smile you hid beneath the covers reassured him that you were going to stick it out. nothing in the world could compare to the happiness you felt when you were with sae. because with him, you knew you could do anything.

dates typically consist of fancy meals or sightseeing trips. he isn’t particularly drawn to these activities himself, but what motivates him is the thought of treating you to something new. whether it be a pretty dessert from down the street that costed an arm and a leg, or seeing the stars as you walk along the beach, he’ll dedicate a huge chunk of his income to letting you see the world in its fullest.

matching photocards on the back of your phone cases. sae uses a clear one so he can flip his phone around and stare at you before every game. while some think he’s admiring your smile (as beautiful as it is), he’s actually sees you as the perfect rival to his games. although you were both in different sports, the two of you constantly pushed each other to your limits, showing the world what it means to be the very best. 

nagi seishiro

“there is no point in anything if you aren’t going to have fun.” 

he wasn’t interested in figure skating until he came across one of your performances on youtube. it was really early into middle school when he started watching you. one of the reasons why he started was because you skated to a lot of his favorite songs from video games he liked. the second reason was because you looked like you were having fun. 

unlike most figure skaters he’s seen, you made the sport look enjoyable (he thinks everyone else looks extremely constipated when they’re too focused). with a beautifully confident smile, you danced across the ice, performing triple axels and a perfect biellmann spin. you skated as if you truly loved this sport, and this was the selling point for him (maybe this is when he started to be called a certified fanboy).

when he arrived to blue lock, the first thing he wanted to win back was his phone so he could keep up with your recent uploads. even when you aren’t posting something figure skating related, your miniature q&a sessions were entertaining enough to keep him awake for the rest of the night, much to reo’s dismay (he wanted to sleep early for once).

the best thing reo had gifted him were a pair of tickets to see you perform at one of the biggest skating rinks in the country. nagi was almost shaking in his seat in excitement, eyes wider than saucers when you stepped into the arena with the prettiest outfit known to man. you blew kisses and waved to the audience, giving them your signature smile. you suddenly stopped in your tracks to deliver a long kiss in nagi’s direction, something that sent him into an early cardiac arrest.

your relationship with him blossoms after seeing him at the local convenience store. the two of you had awkwardly reached for the same cup noodle. even though you were dressed in a simple, oversized black hoodie and a mask that hid half of your face, he easily recognized you by the sound of your voice. nagi’s phone would have dropped to the ground if it wasn’t for you catching it midway. when the screen lights up with a picture of you as his wallpaper, you smile and type in your number, throwing his phone back to him as you take the cup noodle and leave.

you and him would text consistently. after every practice he would immediately rush over to his phone to see if you had left any messages. expect a lot of back and forth photos. nagi’s pictures consisting of things he saw that reminded him of you while you sent him photos of yourself at practice or a recent choreograph. 

imagine how shocked your youtube fanbase is when you show up with your 6’3 boyfriend who barely shows up on camera because hes too tall for your tripod. you’re teaching him how to ice skate and although he started as a wobbly giraffe, he easily picked up a lot of tricks. he might not be the best at doing jumps but his footwork was impeccable (you like to tease him about switching careers but he lazily replies with his face in your shoulder about how much work it’ll be). 

[lilyxhn]

Relieving stress.

Masterlist

Synopsis: Your wife had a stressful day and needs you.

Warning: smut, g!p Jenna x reader, dom!jenna, sub!reader, dirty talk, mommy kink, nicknames, blowjob, P in V unprotected, degradation, dacryphilia, begging, breeding, creampie and some stuff.

Words: 2.1k

The clock on the wall was moving slowly with each second, it was getting closer to the time when your wife would return from work, as she had promised that morning. You were relaxing on the couch in your shared apartment, watching a show on television, completely absorbed in the content in front of you, and then you heard a repeated vibration coming from the phone next to you and curiously, you decided to check it.

Amore Mio: I'll be arriving in 10 minutes, wait for me on your knees in the room and with the new lingerie I gave you.

Without waiting a second longer, you promptly stand up from your seat, anxiety coursing through your veins at the mere thought of what would happen to you once Jenna returned. Once inside the spacious room, you shed your current clothes and rummage through the closet for the new lingerie set indicated, finding it inside a crimson red embroidered box. “Finally.” you think to yourself.

Minutes after you get ready, you hear the sound of the front door being unlocked by the password, which is your wedding anniversary date, and you immediately decide to kneel on the soft carpet next to the bed, waiting for her. Jenna enters the room in complete silence, her expression serious, indicating accumulated tension that would probably turn into anger, this was your end.

As she unbuttons her red blazer and takes it off her body, she throws it on the armchair and walks towards you, stopping in front of you and observing you before starting to speak.

"Have you behaved well during the day, cara mia?" she questioned with false affection, her cold hands going towards your chin, gently pulling so she can study your expression.

Your nervousness was noticeable, she could smell it from afar.

"Yes." You pause briefly, thinking about what you should call her. "Yes, mommy. I behaved well." Your voice, surprisingly, manages to sound confident and Jenna smiles genuinely, increasing the tension between you.

"Good." She murmurs. "But I feel like something is missing, where is your collar?"

Shit, you forgot.

Your gaze wavered for a few seconds, your mind churning as did your stomach in a failed attempt to keep your self-confidence intact. But Jenna was here, and from the affection she was showing, you felt that she would spare you from any punishments.

Before you could respond, Jenna walked on her high heels to the dresser drawer, opening it and taking out a black collar with your name embroidered on the gold pendant, it was your wife's favorite.

"As always, I have to take care of everything, don't I? You're so dumb that you couldn't even remember to do something simple." She speaks in a sarcastic way, her tone bordering on stress. Standing in front of you again, she puts your hair in front of your shoulder, only to fit the collar around your neck, then, she steps away with a few steps. "That's better. Now, come here."

With those words, you swallow hard and start crawling towards her, getting so close to her that you could smell her french perfume.

"Unbutton my pants, slowly." Jenna orders, pushing your hair back as you unbutton the buttons on her dress pants and slowly remove the pants from her hips, leaving her in just a pair of black underwear that had a clear bulge.

If you were tense before, now that feeling has intensified. No matter how many times you have done this, it will always be like the first time, where you felt small and inferior to that woman's dominance. Without waiting for any more orders and knowing what to do, you pull down her underwear, your fingers trembling genuinely with the anticipation of what you were going to do next.

Her cock quickly springs free, the red glans hitting your nose as pre-cum drips down the tip, you swallow hard and for a few seconds, you forget to breathe.

"You already know what to do." Jenna says in a slightly hoarse voice, guiding the thick shaft towards your lips, pressing there with a naughty smile on her face.

You open your mouth, collecting the leaking liquid with your tongue and circling it around the head before slowly descending. Your movements were hesitant and careful, sucking every inch of her trying to take a good part of the shaft. Short sighs escape your wife's mouth, who holds your hair to make your job easier, however, this was making her impatient and even more nervous.

"Fuck- this isn’t working." She mutters, and in a frustrated growl, she shoves the entire length down your throat, making you widen your eyes and cough at the sudden movement. "You lost the habit? You’re fucking pathetic."

Jenna then begins to move, moaning softly as she feels how your mouth molds perfectly around her shaft. You drool, feeling the saliva accumulate on the edge of your mouth as the cock moves back and forth, making you choke and cough with a few tears forming in your eyes.

"Such a greedy slut, fuck- I love how you cry taking my cock." She exclaims with a heavy breath, fucking your throat as if she was taking out the frustrations of the day in that act.

Your hands go straight to her thighs, slapping them as if silently begging for air, tears flowed freely down your flushed cheeks and that pressure of the throbbing cock in your mouth was enough to make your panties wet, bringing discomfort between your legs.

Jenna smiles at the sight before her, you looked so perfect on your knees and with your face dripping wet, it was hard for her to hold back her own orgasm that was getting closer by the second. The grip on your hair tightens and a knot forms in her lower stomach as the thrusting continues. With one last throb of your tongue and a hoarse moan from Jenna, you feel your mouth quickly being filled with hot, bittersweet cum, coughing as you feel the liquid trickle down your throat, and then you manage to pull away.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you tried to catch your breath, your chin was wet with your own saliva and cum and your face was flushed from what had just happened. Just when you thought it was over, Jenna quickly grabbed you by the collar around your neck, dragging you to the king sized bed you shared every night.

"J-Jenna, please!" You exclaim, feeling your own clit throb with the pull on your collar, being thrown onto the bed by your wife. At this point, you were sure you wouldn't be alive at the end of the night to tell the history.

“What did you call me?” She questioned, her jaw clenching as she frowned, secretly daring you to repeat it.

"Mommy! I meant mommy! Please forgive me." your voice was breaking, needing a lot of effort not to stutter at this point.

A slap is quickly delivered to your face and you can feel a strong burning sensation taking over your cheek, which has left a red mark.

"you stupid, how many times do I have to correct you for you start calling me the right way? " She growls, climbing onto the bed and pulling your legs so she can stand between them. "Color?"

"G-Green." You start to stutter with tears welling up in your eyes again, drawing a smile from your wife.

"Good." She puts her hand on the waistband of your lingerie, pulling it down and passing it over your legs so she can remove it from your body. And the sparkle in Jenna's eyes was noticeable as she saw how soaked your panties were. "It's unbelievable that you got wet just by sucking my cock." She laughs.

Jenna brings the panties closer to your face, indicating that you should open your mouth. As soon as you obey, she shoves the fabric into your mouth, making you taste your own arousal. And without saying anything else, she guides her cock towards your pussy, thrusting into you without warning. A muffled scream escaped your lips around the panties as you felt the thick length stretching you for the first time that day, hitting your cervix all at once.

"Poor baby, have you forgotten what it’s like to have mommy’s cock inside you? Don’t worry, I’m here to remind you." She mocks you a little breathlessly, grabbing your waist and moving against you repeatedly.

Your breath starts to falter with each thrust into your pussy, the feeling of having your wife's cock buried inside you being so good that it made you scream in pleasure, even though your mouth was covered. Your hands go to her shoulders, squeezing and digging your nails into her skin, making her moan along with you.

"Fuck- My hot whore, I want to put my babies in you so bad." She exclaimed breathlessly, squeezing your hips as she penetrated your pussy, her hand went down to your clit, her fingers massaging with some pressure just to drive you crazy.

"Mommy, please-" You mumble in a muffled voice, feeling your drool slowly drip from your mouth with each moan that escaped.

And then you feel the head of her dick brush against your sweet spot, eliciting a scream and making you writhe on the creaky mattress. By this point, you were crying with pleasure, salty tears continuing to stream down your face. You desperately needed to cum and just whimpering wouldn't be enough.

"Please, what? Can't think straight anymore, huh?" She gasps , removing her hand from your clit to pull the panties out of your mouth as she continues to pound your tight hole. "Tell me what you need, baby."

"C-Cum! I want to cum!" You manage to say loudly, whimpering pathetically and closing your eyes tightly to try to hold back more tears.

"And you think you deserve to cum? All I see is a stupid slut who can only cry." Her voice sounded hoarse and with evident desire, she was panting close to your face due to the rough movements inside you.

"Yes, I deserve it! Please, l-let me cum." You begged at the top of your lungs, that pressure in your lower stomach was suffocating you, you craved an orgasm and being pushed to the edge with every movement made you go crazy.

"How cute, asking like that makes me want to give in." Jenna murmurs, moaning close to your ear, her hand going down once more to stimulate your throbbing clit. "You'll have to wait for me."

As silent as they remained after that, the room was filled with noises, the wet sound of thrusts, the mingled moans and even the bed creaking frantically beneath you both. Jenna was determined, she would make sure you felt full and satisfied until the end of the night.

She could feel herself coming to orgasm just as you did, her movements faltering little by little as her breathing became more labored. Your wife gripped your thigh, pulling it up to giving her more access to your soaking wet pussy.

"I'm going to fill you up so much that after tonight you'll be pregnant, there'll be no escape." She groans breathlessly, the moans mixing in sync. You were absurdly close, your hand desperately searching for something to hold on to as your legs began to tremble. "Cum for me, cara mia."

With those words, your eyes close tightly as you let yourself go. You feel that accumulated tension being released along with strong tremors that came to the surface, your screams were absurdly delicious to Jenna's ears, who can't contain herself, and reaches climax along with you. Long jets of hot semen are shot deep inside your hole, making her moan and stop moving, allowing herself to empty into your heat.

Seconds after your both come down from the peak, Jenna slowly pulls out of you, making the white liquid to start escaping from inside you.

"That was so fucking good, holy shit.” Your wife gasps, her chest rising and falling just like yours. You shift in bed so you can sit up, your legs feeling weak. “You have no idea how much relief that gave me, thank you.”

She gently leans in to kiss you, her full lips meeting yours warmly as if the affection she felt for you has returned.

written by lily.

[mymindisneverhere]

FAVORS (2)

Part Two

warnings: 18+, MDNI!, sub!Terry, soft dom!black fem OC, explicit language, lots of dialogue, slight smut, slow burn (forgive me if I missed any)

Masterlist

“Fuck.” He grunted through gritted teeth, looking down at her as she went to work on him. 

She stuck her tongue out and ran it up the bottom of his shaft moaning from the sweet taste of him, never tearing her gaze from his. She wrapped her red stained lips around the head of his dick slightly sucking, drinking the pre-cum that oozed from it. 

“You know how long I’ve been wanting to do this to you?” She spoke softly, kissing down the length of his dick.  

He lifted his head to get a better view of her. He struggled a bit, giving that he was flat on his back, limbs stretched and bound to the bed. He bit his bottom lip, trying his hardest not to completely fold under her spell. It was becoming harder and harder by the second as she continued building his anticipation. 

She ran her tongue back up to the tip again before taking in every inch of him at once. He could feel her throat become narrow, causing the muscles in his abdomen to tighten. After a few seconds, she raised her head and brought her eyes back to him.  

“Since the first day I met you.” She admitted, spitting the saliva that had built from her throat onto the tip of his dick.

“Oh shit.” He watched in awe as she bit her lip, admiring her mess. She was so damn pretty and so damn nasty. 

“If you’re good, I’ll let you feel how wet this pussy is all because of you…” 

*BEEP BEEP BEEP* 

Terry’s eyes snapped open at the sound of his alarm going off. He rested a heavy hand on top of the loud clock silencing it. Waking up 6:00 sharp every morning on the weekdays was his new norm. He sat up swinging his legs over the side of the bed and made his way to the bathroom in his small apartment. 

His morning routine was very simple: shower, wash his face, brush his teeth, oatmeal for breakfast and a protein shake for the road. He dressed in his usual uniform, gray t-shirt and khaki pants, sure that he was in dress code for work. 

‘1 Text Message from Summer’ 

Summer: Goodmorning, have a good day at work. Stop by afterwards, got something for you. 

Terry: Goodmorning, be there as soon as I clock out. 

With that, he hopped in his truck and headed off to another long eight hour shift on the job. 

The break room was filled with all of the morning shift workers waiting around until it was time to punch the clock and get to work. Most of them were preparing their usual morning coffees, others rushing to finish the last of their breakfast.

Terry greeted everyone as he headed over to the television, grabbing the remote to flip through the channels. 

“Goodmorning gentlemen.” Khloé greeted the break room full of men, causing everyone to fall silent. 

“Morning Ms. MacArthur!” The men greeted back in unison.

Her eyes scanned the room until they landed on him standing in front of the television watching the morning news. 

“Mr. Richmond!” She called out. 

He turned his head to look in her direction, his body still facing the tv. 

“Yes ma’am?” 

“If you have a minute, I’d like to speak with you in my office.” 

This earned Terry a few looks, some riddled with skepticism others just being plain immature. He placed the remote back into its designated spot and turned to follow behind her. 

They made their way down the long hall toward her office. He looked down at her legs, each step directly in front of the other as her heels clicked in a rhythm. The tall heels elongated her smooth legs, free of any marks or blemishes. He was trying his hardest to remain a gentleman but the way her ass moved with each step reminded him that he was still a man at the end of the day. 

She opened the door to her office and held out her hand signaling for him to enter. Her back was pressed against the tall door as he stepped into the office looking around the room. 

“Have a seat.” Khloé pointed to the large chair. 

Terry obliged. 

“Mr. Richmond, I’ve learned a lot about you in the last twenty-four hours.” She closed the office door and walked over to the desk, standing directly in front of him. “You’re one hell of a guy.” 

Terry sat quietly, unaware of what she was talking about. 

“I mean look at you, you scream ‘good guy who takes down bad guys’.” 

“I’m not understanding.” Terry stated, looking up at her. 

“I’m talking about Shelby Springs-“ She began, pushing herself back onto the desk. Her legs crossed at the ankle, hanging as she looked down at him. “-taking down those cops all by yourself. I’m impressed.” 

She went on to tell him what she had gathered from the news article but he couldn’t focus on her words. The way her mouth moved as she spoke, that bright red lipstick she wore brought back memories in an instant. Images begin to flash in his mind as he slowly remembers… 

The dream. 

The dream he had last night of those same lips wrapped around his dick made him shift in the chair, sitting up straight. He was hoping to hide the excitement he was beginning to feel the longer he stared at her mouth. 

He stared for so long they were beginning to move in slow motion. Her teeth were a natural white color, perfectly aligned and her choice of lip stain brought out her deep cupid's bow. The way her lips pursed every time she said “Richmond” was making him harder by the second. 

“Mr. Richmond?” She repeated, bringing him back into reality. 

“Ma’am?”

“Is there something in my teeth?” She asked, tilting her head. 

“No ma’am, I’m sorry.” 

“That’s okay, I’m just so used to your gorgeous eyes and that strong eye contact. I thought something may be wrong with my mouth.” She giggled. 

‘It’s not around my dick.’

“Forgive me, but I kinda zoned out. Could you repeat that last part?” 

“I said you’re a brave man. It takes a lot of courage to do what you did all by yourself.” 

Terry looked down at his lap and back up at her. “I had some help but thank you.” 

“It must’ve been really hard for you though, with your cousin passing, you being shot and all.” 

“It was tough but I’m okay.” 

She continued staring at him admiring his humble attitude. He could’ve easily walked around with his chest poked and God-like complex but truly he was just an innocent man. She loved that though, the more innocent he appeared to be, the more damage she could do to him.

“I saw that they took all of your savings from you. Did you ever get it back?” She asked. 

“Only enough to post his bail but that’s it.” 

“What were you planning to do with the rest?” 

“Well I was hoping to head out of town and start fresh.” He responded. “But I’m here. I’m alive and well, so as long as I still have the ability to work, I can build back up to that point eventually.” 

“I mean $26,000, that’s a large amount to try and save up at a job like this, no?” Khloé knew what she was doing, trying to sniff out some desperation so she could have the upper hand when she put her offer on the table. 

“It is but it’s not impossible.” 

‘Determined.’ She thought to herself. 

She worried that his “can do” attitude would cause him to turn down her proposal. I mean overall he wasn’t just some broke down victim of racism, he was just a man playing the cards life had dealt him, with no complaints. 

“What would you say if I told you I could give you the rest? It was $26,000 right?” She smiled, trying to appear harmless.

Terry stared up at her in confusion. He had just met her only a day ago and now she’s offering him a large amount of money. He knew nothing in life was free and he could smell the proposition from a mile away. However, he was not interested. 

“Why would you do that?” He chuckled slightly. 

“I want to help you.” She lied. “Some of the men in my family were in the military as well. I couldn’t imagine what life would be like for them if all of their hard work went down the drain at the hands of a couple of racist pigs.” 

They sat in silence staring at each other, both parties trying their hardest to read the other. She couldn’t possibly think he was gullible enough to just accept money from a stranger without returning the favor. But he couldn’t be silly enough to turn down an offer like this.

“No thank you Ms. MacArthur.” Terry stood up from the chair preparing to leave the office. 

“I’m not done speaking with you Mr. Richmond-“ She spoke, stopping him in his tracks, her soft tone never wavering. “and I don’t take no for an answer.” 

Terry let out a deep sigh before turning to face her yet again. 

“I’m sure you could use the money right now. A better place to stay, a nicer car, overall financial security. That sounds good doesn’t it?” She was milking it as best she could.

Terry had to admit to himself, all of it sounded great. To go from living comfortably to $0 was a struggle he fought through daily. He could go to his old friend Mr. Liu for money here and there but he wanted to have his own so that he wouldn’t be a constant bother to others. 

“What could you possibly want in return?” Terry asked cutting straight to chase. 

“You.” 

The look on her face letting him know she was dead serious. 

“Me?”

“Yes, you.” 

Terry frowned in pure confusion, there was no hiding it this time. 

“And what do you want me to do?” 

‘To fuck me.’ 

The corner of Khloés lip turned up into a slight smirk before answering.

“My family’s having their annual banquet and every year I get flack for not having a date. I’m the youngest daughter and all of my siblings are either married with children or engaged.” She admitted. “I need a date for the banquet and for other events so I was just wondering if you could be my “boyfriend” until I don’t need you anymore?” 

Terry sat silently, replaying what he had just heard in his mind a few times. He was having a hard time believing that this beautiful woman needed to pay a man to be her boyfriend. Men would worship the ground she walked on.

“A woman like you needs to pay a man to be with her?” Terry questioned. “There has to be a catch to all of this.” 

“Sadly, it’s my reality.” She admitted. “There is no catch. A very independent and ambitious woman like myself who’s financially well off thanks to her family, has a hard time with men who want to feel needed… and in control.” 

“And if I decline?” 

“Well I really don’t like being told no, so think long and hard about this.” Khloé said before hopping off of her desk. “You can get back to me on it tomorrow with any boundaries you’d like to set in place and I’ll see if I can accommodate you.” 

She smiled at him, unmoved by his obvious discomfort. Terry stared at her for just a few moments before awkwardly turning and exiting the office. 

“Have a good day at work!”

“It’s open!” Summer yelled from the kitchen of her tiny home. 

Terry entered the home, pulling the screen door and walking into the living room. Summer and Terry had managed to maintain their friendship after all the shit they had been through in Shelby Springs together. 

“You got a package today from the city, it’s on the table.” 

Terry grabbed the large folder from the table, opening it as he looked over at Summer. 

“What you cooking in here?” He asked, leaning against the wooden counter. 

“Just some soup, baby has a cold so I’m tryin’ my hardest to nurse her back to health.” Summer responded, stirring the soup slowly. “Seems like the more time she spends at that school the sicker she gets.” 

Summer had to enroll her daughter Bailey into the nearest public elementary school. The only problem was their lack of care and consideration for the children’s education and well being. This was the third time Bailey had been sick since the school year began. 

She didn’t want to send her to school to avoid the possibility of spreading the cold to other kids. But she also didn’t want Child Protective Services to revoke her full custody of her daughter because she misses so much school. 

“I really want her in the private school where my old coworkers' kids go. I just want her to get a good education and not have to be subject to the same conditions I had, you know?” Summer stated, looking over at Terry. 

“I understand.” 

“But the cost of tuition is just so much, I mean I get that it’s one of the only private schools around here but $10,000 for a 3rd grader is nuts, and that’s if I enroll her for just two years.” She said, shaking her head. “I just need her in a good school, just until I get the green light from CPS that we’re good to pack up and go.” 

Terry frowned as he saw the disappointment and sadness in Summers' face. He knew she wanted to be the best mother she could be and to prove not only to herself but to everyone else that she could successfully raise Bailey to be a phenomenal young woman. 

“That is a bit expensive but don’t lose hope, you never know what could happen in the future.” He spoke confidently, hoping to ease her worry she had for Bailey’s future but it wasn’t working. 

The more Summer spoke about this new school and her needing to pick up an extra job, the more Terry was revisiting Khloés offer in his mind. The thought of him posing as a rich girl's boyfriend for money was insane to him. But the look on Summers face pained him. The offer wasn’t sounding as crazy the more he imagined the peace she’d get knowing Bailey was in a good school.

“What’s in the folder?”

“Just some bullshit about Shelby Springs.” He responded, throwing the papers in the trash. 

“Work going okay?” 

Terry debated on telling her about his encounter with Khloé but decided against it. 

“Same ol same ol.” 

“I know it’s not what you were looking forward to doing but at least you got some good benefits. You being an ex-marine really helps in jobs like that.” 

“Yeah but I just wish Mike was here with me. I just wish my plan went through the way I wanted it to but-“ He shrugged his shoulders in defeat. “-life is gone do what it wants… just gotta roll with it.” 

Summer nodded in agreement. 

“Mommy?” Bailey yelled from the back room. 

“Sorry, duty calls.” Summer said, running to her daughter's bedroom. 

“That’s okay, you take care of her. I’m gonna head out.” 

“Thank you for stopping by, I’ll be sure to bring you some lunch sometime this week!” Summer yelled from her daughter's room. 

“I’ll be looking forward to it!”

With that, Terry left Summers home and headed to his second sanctuary, the 24 hour gym. 

Terry grunted heavily as he lifted the barbell above his chest. He was doing his usual upper body routine. He’d inhale and exhale in the same rhythm as his movements. Inhale, lower, exhale, lift. Making his last set count he trained to failure and then placed the bar back onto its rack. 

He sat up on the bench resting in between the next workout, steadying his breathing. 

‘You know how long I’ve been wanting to do this to you?’

His head shot up as he looked in the mirror. The voice was so close, he thought someone was standing right next to him. The voice… her voice… it was so soft at the same time bold and insistent. 

He shook it off and stood, preparing for a set of bicep curls. He lifted the 30 lb weights in each hand and began counting to himself. 

1…

2…

5…

6…

‘Mr. Richmond?’ 

10…

11… 

‘…I’ll let you feel how wet this pussy is…’

“12!” He said in a loud grunt. He slammed the dumbbells down to the ground and placed his hands on his hips. He shook his head as he tried his hardest to shake the sound of her voice. There was no way this woman was having a hold on him and he barely knew her. 

It didn’t help that he hadn’t been with a woman in a long time. He had been so focused on getting his personal life on track, it left him no room for dating. Plus the women who were interested in him were so easy and a man like Terry loved a woman who challenged him.

“You done with those?” Another man in the gym asked Terry, bringing him back to reality for a split second. 

“Yeah man, go ahead.” He responded. 

It had only been a few hours and she was invading his mind. The more he tried focusing on his workout the more he’d hear her voice and see those lips. He knew the only way to get her off his mind was to do something he hadn’t done in a while. 

“I gotta have her.” He whispered to himself. 

Next work day… 

“Ms. MacArthur, there’s an employee in your office. He didn’t say why he needed to speak to you but he didn’t look too happy.” Olivia notified her. 

Khloé rolled her eyes, hoping it wasn’t another disgruntled worker complaining about their job. “Thank you Liv.” 

She walked to her office and opened the door, noticing the back of his head first. He sat there patiently waiting for her, never turning to acknowledge her presence. 

“Mr. Richmond, I’m so happy to see you.” Khloé smiled, placing her purse on the desk. 

He eyed her, taking in her entire figure this time. She was truly an attractive woman. Her hair was pressed straight and tucked behind her ears. She wore a black and white two piece skirt set and white stilettos matching the buttons on her top. Her skin was a rich deep caramel tone that always popped when she wore her signature red lip. 

Her attire was simple yet still screamed luxury. There wasn’t anything out of place on her, everything went together so perfectly. Which is why Terry was dying to figure out why a woman like her would be offering to pay a man like him to be with her. 

“My eyes are up here Mr. Richmond.” She smirked.

He locked his eyes onto hers and remembered why he was there. “I accept.” 

Khloés lips spread into a large smile.

“Of course you d-“

“But I have a few conditions.” Terry interrupted. “I only want $10,000 for myself, the rest needs to go to my family.” 

“Your family?” 

“Yes, they need some assistance and I’d prefer to give the majority of the money to them. It’ll ease their worries and mine.”

Khloés head jerked back in disbelief. Here he was again proving himself to be a humble man. Only wanting less than half of what she was offering for himself and the rest for his family. She almost felt bad for not telling him the whole truth about this “deal”… almost. 

“Well if that’s all you wan-“ 

“Allow me to finish.” Terry cut her off, again.

His strong, authoritative voice made her pussy tingle. She squirmed in her seat and cleared her throat as she returned her attention to him. This was the first time she had actually been turned on by a hint of dominance from the opposite sex. Maybe because it wasn’t being forced. It just came natural to him. 

“I would like the check for $16,000 made out to this name and sent to this address.” Terry stated, sliding a small piece of notebook paper across the desk. 

‘Summer McBride, 555 Conner St’ 

Khloé took it and placed it into her purse for safe keep. 

“If this is going to put me in jeopardy of losing my job then tell me now because I really don’t like surprises.”

“It won’t, I promise.” 

“This needs to stay between us. I can be whoever you need me to be outside of work but when I'm here I'm just an employee, nothing more.” He stated firmly. 

They eyed each other for a few moments, almost as if they were in a standoff. Dominant vs Dominant, Alpha vs Alpha. But there could only be one and it was going to be Khloé. She took a deep breath before speaking, choosing her tone and words wisely. 

“I’m not sure if you’re aware Mr. Richmond, but I'm the one calling the shots.” She said, leaning onto her desk. 

“You asked me for my boundaries and I'm giving them to you. What's the problem?” He asked leaning forward as well, resting his arms on his knees.

She smiled, pausing to take note of this. He wasn’t going to be an easy fix but she enjoyed a “project”. She decided to let him have this round. She would get her turn eventually. 

“No problem.” She continued smiling. “Now, my rules. Rule number one, be on time! I prefer to meet at my home a few hours before we head out so that we’re clear on our attire for each event. Rule number two, no ex-girlfriends or situationships. If you have someone, call it off, I-“ 

“If I had someone, do you think I’d be sitting in your office right now?” He bluntly asked, staring blankly at her. 

He was really testing her patience, not on purpose though. However she was still taking note of it all, planning to make great use of it in the future. 

“I don’t want any women popping up here or anywhere else asking for or about you. I don’t like for anyone to have one-up on me.” She continued. “Rule number three, speak when spoken to.” 

This earned her an unpleasant look from him. 

“There will be many people at the banquet, if they don’t ask you anything then you don’t say anything. Rule number four, don’t embarrass me, ever! I don’t do well with humiliation. Lastly, rule number five, you’re mine! Which means you need to carry yourself that way. Be mindful of who you interact with and how, I’m a very observant woman.” 

Terry sat unmoved. 

“Are we clear?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Terry smirked, scoffing at her bossy attitude. He wasn’t truly buying it though, he just thought it was cute. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

“I love the way you say yes ma’am, make it a habit.” 

He clenched his jaw as his dick jumped. The combination of flashbacks from the dream he had of her and the interaction he was having with her in real time was making it harder for him to remain stoic. 

“I will pay the $10,000 to you in small amounts at a time.” She started, “As long as you follow my rules, you get the payments on time. The moment you disobey me or go against our agreement, you deal with the consequences.” She was speaking to this grown ass man as if he were a child or her servant, which technically he kind of was. 

Terry still sat, this time admiring her bossiness. The way she was throwing out orders, the way she wasn’t beating around the bush or trying to cover up her controlling personality had him feening for her. And those damn lips… 

“Mr. Richmond?” She called out, snapping him out of his daze. 

“So when’s the banquet?” He asked, trying to hide the fact that he had zoned out once again. 

“Next Friday. I’ll send you my address so you can get fitted for your tux. We have a very strict dress code.” Khloé turned to her computer, before looking at him once more. “You’re dismissed.” 

Terry's lips spread into a smile as he stood up from the chair and exited the office. This was going to be a tough one but nothing he couldn’t handle… so he thought.

to be continued… 

[vivwritesfics]

No Need To Ask

Chapter Twenty-Eight - The End Of It All

The Norris' were a notorious crime family in the UK. One of many. With Norris, the head of the family, running operations with his son, Lando, they work to keep Y/N Norris, Norris' daughter protected. Life in a crime family wasn't something they wanted for her.

But with tension with one of the Spanish crime families rise, Norris and his now deceased wife come up with only one plan, offer their daughter to the Sainz's or risk an all out war.

1.4K words

This is the final chapter of NNTA! I can't believe we're at the end. After 50000 words and heartbreak, we're finally at the end. Of course, I'm always open to blurb ideas for this series!

Series Masterlist

Being pregnant was hard, Y/N Sainz decided as she waddled around the house with Bones at her said. Bones was the guard dog, a beautiful Doberman, that her husband had bought for her. They had two other dogs, but Bones was hers, completely loyal to her.

She sat on the sofa, below the air conditioning, and turned on the television. Bones jumped up onto the sofa beside her, laying his head on her too large baby bump as the television started up.

"Querida," said Carlos as he walked past her, papers in his hands. He stopped and bent down to give her a kiss. "How is our little man doing?"

He didn't say anything about Bones, who usually wasn't allowed on the sofa when Carlos was there. Just scratched the space between his ears.

Y/N lifted Bones's head and grabbed a hold of Carlos's hand. She placed his hand onto her bump and let him feel. "Any day now," she said. "I can't wait to have him out of me."

Grinning, Carlos leaned down and kissed her cheek. "I can't wait to get you pregnant yet again," he said with a cheeky grin.

He went to stand up, but Y/N had already wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him in place. "Sweetie," she said slowly, still wearing her saccharine smile. "Honey, darling."

But then the smile dropped from her face. "You're not putting another baby in me, Carlos Sainz Vázquez de Castro," she said and let go of him. "Not for another year, at least."

Carlos laughed and leaned down to give her one last kiss. He scratched the top of Bones's head and made his way back up to his office.

Ever since everything went down, Carlos was a different man. He'd stayed the same as the man Y/N had for company in the cabin, if not even sweeter. He wasn't cruel, he wasn't domineering and he wasn't abusive.

He was perfect.

Y/N watched the television in Spanish, with English subtitles on the bottom. It was really helping with her grasp of the language. Carlos helped too, when he could, whispering sweet words in her ear late at night. But, the biggest help of all, was Señora Sainz.

She refused to speak to Y/N in any sort of english, so she had to learn to adapt. During family dinners (where Carlos sat in the place of his father), the entire family spoke in Spanish, chatting about their day and whatever else came to mind.

After she had been watching Spanish soap operas for an embarrassing amount of time, Carlos walked out of his office, down the stairs and over to his wife, sitting in the seat opposite her.

"Verstappen wants Max to come and stay with us for a few days," he said as he laced his hands together.

This was great new. Y/N loved Max and she hadn't seen him since her short stay in the Netherlands. But there was something off about the whole thing. "Is Verstappen sending him as punishment for something?"

The look Carlos gave her confirmed it. Max was being punished for something and, knowing Jos, it was probably for being too soft. "We should just keep him here," she mumbled under her breath and readjusted her seating position (it was incredibly hard to get comfy being this pregnant). "He's twenty six and his dad treats him like a naughty little boy." She crossed her arms over her chest and pouted. "I hate Jos."

Max arrived at the Sainz house the next day. He went to say hello to Y/N, to wrap his arms around the woman he had gotten close to all those months ago, but Bones wouldn't let him. Held back by Carlos he barked at Max, snapping at his heels.

That was the first thing Carlos concentrated on, allowing the guard dogs to get used to him. It wasn't long before they realised he wasn't a dangerous intruder.

Max was the perfect companion for Y/N. He kept her company, had her relaxing with him in the pool (he was the first person to try going down the slide that Carlos had installed).

He was only in the Sainz house for a week before she went into labour.

The contractions started and Y/N didn't say anything, suffering through it with clenched teeth. Max didn't notice at first. He ate popcorn as they watched a movie, completely unaware.

And then they got stronger, closer together, and Y/N struggled to hide it. And then her water broke.

"Fuck!" Max cried when he finally notice. "Shit, shit, shit!" He ran out of the room, up the stairs and into Carlos's office. "The baby! Coming! Help!" He cried.

Max had never seen somebody move as fast as Carlos did in that moment. He was out of his office in the blink of an eye and running down the stairs heading towards his wife. "Max! Get the go bag from my closet!" He shouted.

As Carlos headed to Y/N, Max ran down the hall and into Y/N and Carlos's bedroom. He went straight into the walk-in closet and went through it, searching for the go bag. Carlos hadn't thought about what was in the closet when he sent Max to get the go bag. He didn't think about Max pushing the handcuffs, whips and more to the side as he searched for the go bag.

But Carlos didn't have time to think about that. He crouched in front of his wife and pushed her hair out of her face. "Mi amor," he said, taking her hands. "Max said the baby is coming. Are you ready to go to the hospital?" His voice was calm as he spoke.

Y/N nodded her head. "Get this thing out of me," she said through a laugh and allowed her husband to help her up.

Slowly and carefully he walked her through the house, leading her to the front door. Max joined them, go bag over his shoulder. He held the front door open as Carlos walked her towards the car.

Being the wife of Carlos Sainz, head of the Sainz family, meant that she got the best medical care available. Her cries filled the hospital as she pushed, her husband holding her hand and pressing a damp cloth to her forehead. "You're doing it, baby," he said softly.

Y/N couldn't hear him as he spoke, too focused on the pain. Nothing could have prepared her for this feeling. But it would all be worth it, she had to keep telling herself.

After a matter of hours (although it felt a lot longer), Oscar Pau Sainz was crying in his fathers arms. He had been wrapped in a blanket, a little blue hat on his head. Y/N had her eyes closed as she took a moment to rest, utterly exhausted after the whole ordeal.

Left out in the waiting room, it had been Max's job to inform the other heads of families. Everybody (but his own father, who didn't really care) messaged to congratulate the couple and made arrangements to get to Spain as soon as possible

The next day, after staying overnight in the hospital, Carlos and Y/N drove him. Max had taken the car and driven home the day before, but had come back to pick the couple up. He drove with Carlos in the passenger seat and Y/N in the back with baby Oscar, her baby Oscar.

"A package for you guys came," said Max as they drove towards the house. "I've left it in the kitchen."

When they got to the house, Y/N and Carlos walked straight up stairs and into baby Oscar's room. "This is your bedroom," she whispered as Carlos carried the carrier inside.

As Y/N laid baby Oscar in the crib, Carlos ran downstairs for the package. He didn't know what he expected, but it certainly wasn't this. He placed the package back in the box and brought it up to his wife, who was sitting in the rocking chair in baby Oscar's room.

"Here," he said, passing it to her. He grabbed her hand and pulled her up, sitting in her place and pulling her into his lap.

Y/N took the item out of the box. It was a little stuffed rabbit that looked a little worn and old, but had certainly been cleaned. "Oh, this is lovely," he said, laying the rabbit in her lap as she grabbed a hold of the note inside of the box.

He'd want him to have this - N. Piastri (Oscar's mom)

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𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓼𝓮 𝓗𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓸𝔀 𝓗𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓼 -𝕴

𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: 𝒩𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 𝐹𝓎𝑜𝒹𝑜𝓇 𝓍 𝒜𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒: Slow burn romance, female reader, small age gap (Fyodor is thirty, the reader is in her early twenties.) No Abilities AU, angst, fluff, eventual smut, multipart story. 𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: “Eyeing his new assistant from across the table, Fyodor’s heart twists in some cold form of rebellion–” “His eyes scan you, watching as your pen glides across the paper, translating his words carefully. A smug smirk rises onto his lips, noting how many times you stop and start. You were already struggling.” 𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 6.5k or so (A/N: I know, strange to write an author AU when the characters are based on authors but here we are. I want to say Novelist AU Fyodor may have a few similar traits to IRL Dostoyevsky but he is not supposed to be a complete one-for-one in every sense of the word. They’re supposed to just be minor nods to the real Dostoyevsky.)

𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝒾𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓈𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝐼 𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝓈𝒶𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝑒? 𝒮𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓉𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓈𝓅𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝑒𝓀𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓃𝒹? 𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒 𝐼 𝓈𝒶𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒷𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝑒𝓀 𝒾𝓃 𝒾𝓇𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃, 𝑜𝓇 𝓈𝒶𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓃𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓈𝒸𝓇𝓊𝓃𝒸𝒽 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓁𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝑒𝒹? 𝒪𝒽...𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝐼'𝒹 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃. 𝒯𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓈𝓂𝒾𝓁𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝒶 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓈𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓈 𝒸𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝒶 𝒸𝓊𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓈.... ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ The lake always looks mystical early in the morning at this time of year. A faint mist rolls over the mirrored surface as dancers in orange and yellow descend from their places in the comforting embrace of timber and bark. Soldiers of fading green, browns and oranges line the lake, swaying in the soft, chilly breeze. Bird song and the gentle scurrying of the forest’s dwellers is the perfect symphony to this backdrop. Yes. This was why Fyodor always sat outside to write. He felt a peace unlike anything else when he sat at his small outdoor table, the earth claiming the furniture by wrapping tendrils of green around its leg. He doesn’t mind. He never had any intentions of moving it after all. A single page sat at his hands, one hand elegantly moving across it as he writes in Russian, his mother tongue. The sound of his pen scratching against the white sheet tickles his brain pleasantly, each stroke deliberate and careful. Fyodor would only write the drafts of his novels on paper. He would never touch a keyboard. Even when conversing with his agent he would only use his phone. With his long distant friend and fellow author, he opted for letters. Technology was something Fyodor wasn’t fond of. His deep, purple eyes rise from the page, tired eyes scanning the horizon before him. He notices a few russet sparrows flying over the lake. For a moment, he even thinks he can see a fox on the other side of the lake, disappearing into the treeline. Yes. This view was far more enjoyable than some television or computer screen. He breathes deeply, taking in the rich, earthy air around him. It wouldn’t be long until this view would be painted in white, the frigid air forcing him to stay indoors far more than he would have liked to be there. The novelist was a homebody, that much was true. But he spent most of his time outdoors when he wrote his stories. Or rather, attempted to. His current novel had been giving him a bit of grief as of late. “Romance novels are popular right now!” He could still hear his agent’s voice insisting. “With the works you’re already known for, I bet the world is dying to see your take on one! Plus, if we partner with this company and make it an international release, the revenue would tie you over so you can focus on a novel you actually want to write!” Fyodor scoffs. He wouldn’t have even considered writing such a novel, were it not for the fact that his funds were looking a bit depressed as of late, due to a few recent large expenses that needed to be paid. His eyes scanned over to his wristwatch; it was still a few hours yet until his guest would arrive. Another matter his agent had been too insistent on that Fyodor had begrudgingly accepted.

He didn’t understand why she had been so pushy about the matter of an assistant. He had managed so far on his own. He didn’t need any help. These were his stories to tell. Sighing, Fyodor rises from his chair. He moves towards his small, cozy dwelling, his raven hair ruffled by the Autumn breeze. Perhaps a nice pot of tea would get those creative juices flowing again. ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵ A soft breeze teases your hair and scarf as you walk up the winding stone path, heading deeper into the heart of the forest, an eerie fog cast across the sky. The trees sway their branches in the wind as if greeting you as sunlight filters through the thick branches, showers of yellow and orange descending on your path as you walk. You see an old, rough-looking tabby cat that gives a low mewl before disappearing over the fence like an elegant shadow. You notice a few small cottages scattered around the area. One is at the top of a flight of narrow cobblestone steps. Another is nestled near some thick bushes and trees, almost devouring the structure in its natural embrace.

The thin fence lining the pathway is overgrown with thick vines and small flowers here and there, with tall trees and other flora about, creating an almost fairytale-like appearance. Everything here is quiet and still, aside from the chirps of a few insects and the whistling of birds. You clutch your orange coat closer to your body, the fabric blending in with your environment as excitement runs through every inch of your veins. This was the opportunity you had been searching for! What were the chances that you’d run into a literary agent while heading to the unemployment centre to ask for help? It was as though God himself had lifted an olive branch for you.

The agent, Vivian, had looked at you with such joy when you explained that you were looking for experience helping authors get their works published. You wanted to help however you could, whether that be as an editor, a translator or even a beta reader! You just wanted a way to step into this field finally. You had grown up with a love for books and stories. You wanted to be part of the process to get these books created. “Well, I have just the guy for you,” Vivian had replied, a small smirk on her lips as she handed you her business card with a name written on the back. The name of the novelist she had been helping for the past decade. Fyodor Dostoyevsky.

You had never heard of the man before. Walking along the quiet stone path, heading towards a large archway overgrown with blossoming flowers, you wonder if he wrote under a pen name. You were so excited to meet him! Oh, but you needed to calm down and relax. Don’t make this weird! You walk through the archway, the gentle aroma of the blossoming flowers filling your senses as your eyes fall on the crystal-clear lake before you. The water was a calm, almost mystical blue, with nothing disturbing its perfect surface. It looked like it could have been the subject of an oil painting. You blink, the trance broken as you notice movement. An older gentleman sits at a small outdoor table, a small porcelain teacup in hand. You notice a few strands of grey in his otherwise dark hair, along with the dark crescent moons under his mystifying yet cold purple eyes. You wondered if they were from late nights of writing stories or brainstorming.

He looked more frail than you were expecting. Quite lithe. He reminded you of a scarecrow. He was almost swimming in the dark coat covering his shoulders, even his white scarf seemed to be looped multiple times more around his throat. You tense as his eyes flicker up, meeting yours. The teacup moves back towards the saucer, resting upon it with a soft clink. He lifts one of his hands, beckoning you closer. You come to stand before him, your heart pounding out of nervousness and excitement. This was it. The first day of the rest of your life! Things would only be looking up from here! Before you can speak, the gentleman interrupts you. His thick Russian accent sends a slight shiver down your spine, “You’re the assistant Vivian sent.” He looks you up and down slowly. You can feel the judging look in his eyes as he scans you carefully, “You have no experience in this field and yet you agreed to be my assistant. Fascinating…” You swallow, trying to calm yourself. You almost burst into excited rambles as you begin to speak in a rather rapid tone, your giddiness getting the better of you, “Y-yes sir! You see, it’s always been a dream of–” “Enough.” He says suddenly, shaking his head. Those dark eyes of his stare coldly into yours, your excited heartbeat being frozen still in your chest as he adds, “I do not wish to hear your life story. You are here to do a job. And I expect you to do it well.”

You try and speak up, “Shouldn’t we go inside–” “No. You will work out here,” he cuts you off as he reaches down to a leather bag by the side of his chair, hidden from view. He lifts it, passing it over to you as he speaks, “Within this is the first three chapters of my latest novel. I need you to proofread, edit and translate it into English by the end of the week.” You tense; the end of the week? You supposed you could handle that. What’s the most he could have done? Really? Maybe ten thousand words total? You take out the first group of papers. It looks like he’s stapled each chapter together. There’s no title page yet, so it starts straight on the prologue. One issue becomes apparent very quickly. One big, glaring issue. Fyodor’s handwriting. He had written in fluent Russian from what you could tell. But his handwriting was quite…well, it was cursive? It was hard for you to put into words. The best way you could describe it was like a doctor’s handwriting. “Excuse me, Mr. Dostoyevsky?” You look up from the first page. Fyodor is gazing across the lake, sipping on his tea once more. He doesn’t spare you a glance as you continue, your tone soft and polite, “I’m having some trouble reading your handwriting. I don’t suppose you have a typed version I could reference instead?” His dark eyes slowly turn over to you. You swear you feel the cold of a hundred Winters rush through your body at once, “If you can’t translate it, then I shall call Vivian right now and inform her that sending someone illiterate does not help me in the slightest.”

‘Illiterate??’ You quietly think, feeling both offended and furious. ‘At least my writing doesn’t look like a chicken walked all over my page!’ Biting your tongue, you nod. You would make this work, just to spite this guy. ‘Just think about the end goal. Someone out there is going to love this book. You just need to focus on your goal..’ It’s a daunting task, one you weren’t sure you could achieve. But you were going to put your damnest into this job more so than ever now. ✩

Eyeing his new assistant from across the table, Fyodor’s heart twists in some cold form of rebellion and anger. Vivian didn’t mention that she was sending someone like you. Had he known that, he would have called his overseas friend to go and stay with him while working on this novel that he didn’t even want to write. His eyes scan you, watching as your pen glides across the paper, translating his words carefully. A smug smirk rises onto his lips, noting how many times you stop and start. He notices the way your brows furrow in irritation. You were already struggling. It was only a matter of time before you gave up and admitted defeat, running away from his little piece of heaven with tears in your eyes and a white flag in your hands. He liked that thought. That thought brought him peace. “You’re going to have to work faster than that,” he suddenly says, sounding very proud of himself. You don’t look up, your hands and eyes continuing to move as he adds, “Vivian wants the book by the end of the year. If you can’t handle getting three chapters done by the end of the week, you’re useless to me and any other author.” He notices your jaw clenching. He sees the way you swallow down whatever response you keep to yourself, instead replying with a soft “Yes, Mr. Dostoyevsky.” If he breaks you down enough, will you submit faster? Will that get you away from him faster? He’s silent for a long while, his gaze slowly returning to the scenic view before him. It soothes him and assures him he will soon have his space and peace returned to him. He lifts his teacup, sipping the warm liquid slowly. He just had to bide his time and wait. You would crack eventually. He would make sure of it. ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵

Even though Fyodor treated you coldly and barely even spoke to you, you were intrigued by his writing. It felt like his words had a grip on you, filling you with the urge, that desperate need to know what happens next. The novel was about a young man. From what you had read, he was an extremely lonely man. No matter how Fyodor wrote him, or what scenes he was in, he was always alone, even when surrounded by people. But there was one thing you wouldn’t understand. “If this is supposed to be a romance novel,” you say slowly. “Then where is the other lead? What’s this guy going to romance, himself in the mirror?” “Oh come on now, cut him some slack,” the warm voice of your best friend chimes over the phone. “This is just the first three chapters, right? He’s probably just laying down the groundwork for now. I mean..” She pauses, hesitating before adding in a teasing tone, “The main female lead in that story you read didn’t get a proper romantic interest till like, what, book four?” “Hey, you say that like I wanted her to have one!” You joke, giggling as you walk up the winding stone path on your way to Fyodor’s. It was almost week’s end and despite having a handful of paragraphs left, you were almost done translating the first three chapters. Though it wasn’t an easy task. You had learnt that Fyodor had a habit of rambling in his stories. Sometimes, this made parts more fleshed out. More interesting and intriguing to you. But you didn’t need to know the full backstory of some random man sitting by a lake if he wasn’t going to be important to the story later on. “I want to give him some advice,” you say into the phone, your voice suddenly more serious. You notice the pair of village cats nearby as you pause in place. The younger orange tabby cat attempts to play with the old tabby, the older of the pair growling as he backs away, “But is it my place to give him advice? I mean…he is the author. It’s his story. I have no right to tell him how to write it.”

You hear a hum on the other end of the line as you start moving again, approaching the familiar archway. Then, “You could always try it. But this Fyodor guy doesn’t sound like the type who would take your advice onboard. You’re still so new to this field, your ears are still green!” You chew on your inner cheek, sighing. The chances that Fyodor would listen to you were slim to none. You understood that already. It didn’t take a genius to know where you stood in his regard. But you wanted to help Fyodor make improvements to his book. You look up at the archway, a gentle breeze pushing against your back as you sigh in defeat. “I’ll call you tonight and let you know how badly he chews me out.” You end the call, hiding your phone in your pocket, walking through the archway and into the lush clearing. You were already expecting to be greeted with the typical iciness from the author as you approach his table. “Ah, you’re finally here,” he greets you. His tone isn’t exactly friendly, but it’s not as frosty as you were expecting. There’s a faint hint of hibiscus in the air as the soft breeze draws the scent of his tea of the day to you. Yesterday was ginger. The day before was turmeric. He always had a fresh pot every morning when you arrived. But he never offered you a cup. Regardless, you come to sit at his table, your chair creaking faintly as you reach into your messenger bag, pulling out the last few pages of the first three chapters of his novel before speaking, “I’ve almost finished with these chapters,” you let him know, a flame of warmth in your voice. “I only have a few more paragraphs to go. Though I have to say–” You rummage around your bag, searching for your lucky pen as you continue, “--I quite enjoy your writing. It's captivating. Sometimes I feel like I’m hanging on the end of your every word–” “Flattery will get you nowhere,” Fyodor quickly interjects, deep eyes narrowing at you, the dark hoops under his eyes making him look more menacing. A shiver runs down your spine as he nods at the paper before you, “Get to work and stop wasting your time with idle chatter.”

‘Oh, so I can’t even compliment you?’ You quietly think, your hand wrapping around your lucky pen. You pull the gold and black ballpoint pen out, clicking it to life as you begin working, huffing and puffing in annoyance in your mind, ‘Fine then. Maybe I just won’t speak to you again. God, I hope all writers aren’t this entitled.’ You catch yourself, your fingers caressing the side of the ballpoint pen as the gold edge shines in the early sun. No…you knew all writers weren’t like Fyodor. He was a rotten apple surrounded by batches of bright, red fruit. He wasn’t going to stop you from reaching your dream. He would not stomp that flame out. A silence falls over you and Fyodor. It’s not an uncomfortable silence, but it’s not quite pleasant either. It just simply is. You glance up now and then to see Fyodor sipping on his tea, his eyes always drawn to the distance. You scan his expression for a few moments, your pen stopping its movements. He doesn’t notice you looking at him as he stares almost longingly into the distance, his dark eyes shrouded with depths of emotion you struggle to comprehend. But there is one emotion there that is most obvious to you. It’s a look of deep, suffocating loneliness. He stares, as if seeing something in the distance you cannot. He is silent and still. You barely even see his chest rising and falling with his breaths as a gentle breeze tousles his raven hair, as though an invisible hand would be combing through each lock with a careful, almost affectionate touch. Then, as if returning to reality, he blinks, his gaze slowly shifting to meet yours. You stare at one another, frozen in time for just a heartbeat. There is no coldness, no scolding. Just you and him and his sad, lonely eyes. For a moment, you almost decide to ask if he’s okay. Almost.

But as quickly as you see this side of Fyodor, it disappears under frozen blinds and walls of ice. His dark eyes glare at you, hiding the emotions you saw behind a careful shield as he scolds, “Why are you wasting time staring into space? Get back to work.” You shake your head, snapping out of your trance, eyes gliding back to the paper at your hands. You don’t speak a word and merely focus on those last few paragraphs. You knew what you saw. That cold facade cracked for just a moment to reveal something more to this man than you originally thought. There was more to Fyodor than the cold wall you kept smashing again. Your pen glides across the paper, finishing the last few translated lines. You smile to yourself, placing the ballpoint pen down on the garden table before looking up at Fyodor, pride glittering in your eyes. You’d completed the first obstacle he’d put in your way, “I’m done, Mr. Dostoyevsky.” His eyes graze over your smile, the proud glimmer in your eyes, then move down towards the sheet of paper at your fingertips. He turns his body, sitting at the table properly now as he nods at you, “Let me check.” Taking the rest of the pages out of your bag, you slide each completed chapter over to him, your hands carefully caressing the top sheet before passing it over. You were hoping this would prove your value to Fyodor and get him to start treating you…well, like someone trying to help him. Like a proper translator. Like someone actually trying to get his book published. He’s silent for a long while as he flips through the translated chapters. He murmurs to himself every now and then in Russian; sometimes he sounds almost fascinated. Other times, he sounds annoyed. Then, at last, when he’s midway through the second chapter, “This is precisely why I didn’t want to do an international release. My words simply do not translate well into English.” “We could work together to find a suitable substitute for your words in English,” you suggest. The moment his dark eyes pierce into yours, you gulp. “If you wanted to. It won’t be exactly the same but I’m sure we could find a nice middle ground.”

He’s silent for a while as if thinking over your words. Then his eyes travel back to the page, murmuring, “We can try. But I assure you, you won’t be able to translate it perfectly. The English language is incapable of properly translating what I’m attempting to convey–” ‘There he goes again, acting all high and–,’ your grumpy thoughts are interrupted as a thought strikes you like a bolt from the blue. You resist the urge to gasp. Wait…was this the first proper, positive reaction you’ve gotten from Fyodor? He accepted you reaching out a hand to him? Then maybe now was your chance! You gasp a little, suddenly standing up, much to both yours and Fyodor’s surprise. He looks up at you, taken off guard as you suddenly blurt out, “Um! In that case, I had some other advice I wanted to give to! It’s in regards to that man you focus the second chapter on!” “I don’t know if he has any significance to the plot or not, but is it really necessary to have the last twenty pages focused just on his backstory?" "Because it seems like you could use these pages to develop the male lead further or even bring in the female lead! Are you intending for him to have a larger role or–” “You dare to have the audacity to lecture me on how to write my novel?” Fyodor’s cold voice cuts you off, his eyes narrowing at you dangerously. You can almost feel your voice being stolen by his anger, as he continues you glare daggers at you so sharp, that you feel that little shred of confidence and pride you’d finally gained being ripped to shreds before you. “You translate three chapters and that’s it? You’re suddenly an expert in the writing world, are you?” He scoffs, laughing at you mockingly. He tosses the translated pages onto the table, his eyes continuing to stare into your own shocked eyes. His voice grows harsher as he suddenly begins to speak in his native tongue.

“Сверхуважаемая госпо��а, я хочу напомнить вам, что ваше право на собственное мнение не обязывает меня слушать этот бред. Молчание - великий талант. Мой совет вам: если у вас будут мысли, держите их при себе; в наше время умные люди молчат, а не разговаривают. Я вас здесь не нанял для авторского выступления, так что будьте любезны, работайте и не стройте из себя Александром Сергеевичем Пушкиным.” *

He stands suddenly, leaving you stunned in place, unable to find your voice. You watch in stunned horror as he storms towards his cottage, tucked and hidden within the wilderness of the trees and shrubbery. He enters it, slamming the door behind him before you can utter another word. You feel both stunned and horrified. You had no idea what he had just said to you but why did it feel like you just lost your job? ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵ “You should have cut him some slack.”

“Do you really think I need to hear that right now?”

“You know it wasn’t your place to criticize him like that–”

“I know…I don’t know what came over me…” You sigh heavily, sinking into the thick duvet on your bed as your heart aches within the tight confines of your chest. The sound of the city beyond your apartment blares outside. The distant siren of an ambulance. The loud yells of passerbys. A dog’s loud barks as the scent of cigarette smoke and fumes waft through your apartment window.

It wasn’t the classiest apartment, very far from it, but it was the only place you could afford right now with the allowance you were receiving from the government, along with what little savings you had left. You sigh, running a hand through your messy hair, “I genuinely didn’t mean to do it. I just got so excited. I felt like he was finally accepting me into his world…” You lower your voice, sounding more upset. “But now I’ve gone and ruined it all…not even a week in...”

You lift your other hand, holding up your gold and black ballpoint pen once more. You twirl it between your fingers, Fyodor’s harsh expression still vivid in the back of your mind. You felt like you really offended him. You hadn’t meant to. You just wanted to help. But you understood how your words had come across as hurtful. You didn’t know the story Fyodor was plotting out. You didn't know if this man was going to play a pivotal role and yet you–

You hear a loud crunch on the other end of the line, causing you to wince and yelp in surprise, your thoughts broken through instantly, “Ack! Trixie! Hold the phone away next time!” “Mrm! Sorry girl, but look-” Trixie goes silent for a few moments while she finishes chewing whatever she’s eating. Then, she speaks again, sounding quite calm as she gives you her advice, “--I think you owe him an apology. This guy is not only your senior career wise, but he’s the literal author of the book you’re translating.”

You frown as she goes on, your eyes glued to your ballpoint pen as the streetlight outside touches it, making the golden parts gleam, “What kind of things does he like? You know, besides sitting and staring at the lake all day.”

You think over Trixie’s words, eyes sparkling with the golden hue coming from your pen. Fyodor hadn’t spoken to you much these past few days since you began working as his translator. He greeted you, scolded you to start work and then sat in silence until the day’s end. Did he like anything besides staring at the lake and–

Suddenly, you sit up in your bed, and your loose, white nightgown drops over your frame, the old springs of the bed squeaking softly. That was what you could get him to apologize! You would need to get some research in tonight and wake up early to head to the store tomorrow. You were sure there was a speciality store for this type of thing on the other side of town.

Moments before you’re about to hang up, you get a second call. Your eyes widen as you read the name on the screen; Vivian. Your heart leaps into your throat. “Sorry Trix, I have to go,” you quickly say, rising from your bed to move over to your kitchen counter where your laptop was sitting, charging. “I’ll call you when I can.”

“Keep me updated on your situation with your author man!” Trixie manages to chime back before you end the call, picking up Vivian’s seconds later.

“Yes? Hello, Vivian?” You quickly answer, holding your phone with your cheek while typing into your laptop’s keyboard, searching through the specific results you had pulled up.“I’m surprised you’re still up. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised; all those involved in the literary world seem to be night owls.” She chuckles, before clearing her throat.

You scroll through the results page as Fyodor’s agent keeps speaking to you, “I presume you know why I’m calling. I just got off the phone to Fyodor regarding the…incident.” The incident…

You cringe at it being referred to like that. Your heartbeat picks up as you stand up straight, a deeply apologetic tone in your voice, “I know, I know, I was in the wrong. It’s Mr. Dostoyevsky’s book and he’s free to write however he pleases. I just got a little head of myself and–!”

“Easy,” Vivian whispers soothingly. It almost feels like she’s there with you, patting your shoulder and assuring you it's okay. “Fyodor is still a tad…appalled at your behaviour, but I have managed to convince him to give you another chance due to how efficiently and well you translated his first chapters.” A gasp escapes your throat; before your hopes can get too high, she quickly adds in a tone that reminds you of a stern teacher, “But this is your last chance. He’s said if you step out of line again, you’re out.”

“No…no, I understand perfectly!” You run a hand through your messy hair, resisting the urge to jump and dance around in glee. Oh thank God, you didn’t lose this chance! Your gaze flickers back towards the laptop screen, the results still silently waiting for you. You knew you still had to apologize properly for what you had done.

“I promise, neither of you will regret this.” You begin writing down an address frantically on a sticky note, looking up the coordinates to the location on the other side of town. You click your tongue, planning everything out in your head. Yes, if you wake up earlier, you will have the time to swing by and get everything ready before visiting Fyodor tomorrow morning without being late.

Suddenly, Vivian’s voice breaks through the silence, cutting you out of your thoughts, “I shouldn’t be saying this but do me a favour, would you?” She pauses for a moment. You focus more on her as she adds, “Cut Fyodor some slack.”

“Wh-what?” Is all you manage to breathe out. Everyone keeps telling you to do that. Were you in an echo chamber? Or did everyone else just see something you couldn't? She continues, sighing heavily and you swear you hear a pen being placed down, judging from the gentle tap you hear on her side of the call.

“It isn’t my tale to tell, but I will inform you that Fyodor has been through a lot as of late.” You frown deeply as you hear this. “This is his returning novel after taking some time away from his career, so all I ask is that you show him the same patience you would want to be shown.”

Your mind stews those words over silently as you chew the inside of your cheek. The novelist you were working with was an enigma. He was more mysterious than the deepest pits of the ocean, and more closed off than a crime scene. You only had his name. His career. And the gift of being able to read his captivating story. Well, part of it.

Just who was Fyodor exactly? And what had he gone through to make him the way he is now?

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵

The sky was overcast and angry as you began to make your trek towards Fyodor’s quaint cottage. You sprint along the stone path as the sky rumbles like a beast, growling as the clouds light up, warning you of the upcoming downpour that is about to begin. Clutching the bouquet you’d bought close, along with the small gift bag, you run through the archway.

The usual clear, mirror-like surface of the lake was black and menacing, nowhere near as picturesque as it had been for the entire week. No birds were singing. Branches waved violently in the strong winds that buffeted against them, sending spirals of leaves cascading around, like mini tornados of color.

You barely manage to hold onto your bouquet and gift, grimacing as you notice Fyodor isn’t sitting at the usual spot today. You look towards his cottage, the trees and shrubbery around it rustling violently against the strong gusts as well. They almost look like they’re clinging onto the cottage to keep themselves rooted. You catch a glimpse of that old tabby cat sprinting up to the door, his paws reaching up and scratching at the timber desperately and at once, it opens.

You see Fyodor, wrapped in a thicker cloak than normal along with what seems to be an old ushanka on his head, keeping his face warm. He opens the door to let the feline inside, cloak dragging on the floor behind him like a cape. Rubbing against the Russian’s legs, the tabby darts inside, away from the rough weather. But he doesn’t follow the feline; his dark eyes lift, meeting yours across the way.

He watches as the wind tousles your long hair as though playing with the elegant strands, your bright, vibrant coat of orange a stark contrast against the blackening sky but matching perfectly with the leaves falling from rustling trees around you. He sees the way your brown scarf aggressively sways in the violent breeze as the sky growls a final warning. He says nothing as he watches you. Is he waiting for you? His eyes scan you once, twice…it’s like he’s taking you in for the first time.

Like this, you look like a single glowing ember in the darkness of the world, seconds away from being snuffed out and devoured by the shadows.

Not wanting to be left out in this downpour, you sprint towards Fyodor, a loud crack echoing across the sky as it lights up, lighting striking somewhere in the distance as you pick up the pace. Without a word still, he steps aside, letting you run in just as it begins to storm. Cold droplets pour from the sky as it roars, another loud crack is heard in the distance. Rain begins to patter loudly on the roof of Fyodor's humble home, almost cleansing the land.

You hear the door close, along with a lock being turned, clicking into place. You turn to face Fyodor, noticing that the room is not illuminated by the bulbs hanging overhead but by candlelight. There are candleholders along the wall, lighting the hallway in a warm, welcoming light. Flickers of yellow dance across Fyodor’s face, his dark purple eyes practically invisible in the dark of the cottage.

Gripping the bouquet tighter, you hesitate to hand it over. Then, at last, you do, presenting the brilliant bouquet with a gentle hand. “Here,” you say softly, almost silently. “These are for you.”

You watch as his calculating eyes trace along each chosen flower; the blue hyacinths to the white orchids, to the few lilies of the Valley. He hesitates to accept them as his eyes turn back to you. He must be waiting to hear her apology out loud, “I’d like to say I’m sorry for overstepping.” The plastic around the bouquet crinkles as you grip it tighter.

“I am both your junior and not an author,” you begin, fighting back down every inch of your pride to make sure your apology comes across as genuine. “I had no right to tell you how to write your story. I’m only here to translate it into English so I’m sorry. It will not happen again.” You also present your other hand, holding the gift bag out to Fyodor. “I hope you can forgive me and we can start fresh.”

He eyes the gift bag, reaching for it first. He peers inside, hiding his surprise behind his cold eyes as he notices the variety of tea leaves you’ve purchased for him. These are all high-quality leaves from a teashop on the other side of town. Passionfruit drop. Cream black tea. Autumn spice. He looks up at you, raising a brow curiously.

You squirm under his gaze, anxiously waiting for a reply. Would he accept the apology? Would he not? It felt like time was frozen as you and Fyodor stared at one another, his deep, purple eyes peering into the very depths of your soul as if trying to see if you were truly sorry in the very pit of your heart.

Then he moves past you. You feel your heartbeat freeze in your chest and then–

“Come along. I will brew some tea while you begin work translating chapter four.”

Warmth spreads across your chest instantly, your heart fluttering in your chest, a smile breaking out on your face as you turn, following Fyodor through the candlelit hall towards what you presumed to be the kitchen, your apology bouquet in hand.

You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but you were both glad Fyodor had seemingly accepted your apology…and excited to read the fourth chapter of his novel. Even if he rambled on for the next forty pages and didn’t progress the plot. Your ankle boots click against the old wooden flooring as you hurry after the author.

✩ You were an enigma to Fyodor. Despite the cold walls he had placed securely around himself and the distance he had tried to keep from you, you kept coming back. Did this job really mean that much to you or were you just that desperate for money?

Or perhaps you were here for other reasons.

The kettle’s loud whistle shakes Fyodor from his web of thoughts. He takes it off the stove, bringing it over to his preferred ceramic teapot, decorated with painted pink carnations, filling it with the boiling water before moving on to inserting the mesh tea infuser, full of some of the new leaves you brought him.

As the aromatic smell of spices fills the air, he turns his thoughtful eyes to where you sit at his dining table, reading over the fourth chapter of his novel. He sees your smile behind the pages. The way your eyes gleam as you read and reread paragraphs. It even looked like you were no longer struggling to read his handwriting.

He felt warmth stirring in his heart. Fyodor had seen from reviews and heard from Vivian that his works were well-beloved, but seeing you smile and the joy in your eyes was something else entirely. It stirred something deep within his soul.

You actually did enjoy his story. You weren’t just going along with the crowd or agreeing with a friend because it was a popular piece. You were genuinely enjoying his work. He feels his heart pound for just a second before he turns away, focusing on the tea.

With slender hands, he pours the rich, orange liquid into the prepared porcelain teacups, the fragrance growing even stronger in the room. Between the sound and smell of the pouring rain and terrifying thunder and the earthy, aromatic smell of the Autumn spice tea, Fyodor felt his shoulders relaxing as he brought the two teacups over to the dining table, just in time to hear you gasp quietly.

Ah, you must’ve gotten to the part where the female lead is fleetingly introduced. For a moment, Fyodor finds himself smiling.

𝓛𝓲𝓴𝓮𝓼 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝕽𝖊𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖘 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞 𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖉 ♡ © 𝐹𝓁𝓊𝓇𝓇𝓎𝑜𝒻𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓈-𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟦

Next

Dividers: @/saradika * Translation:  Dear Madam, I want to remind you that your right to your own opinion does not oblige me to listen to this nonsense. Silence is a great talent. My advice to you: if you have thoughts, keep them to yourself; Nowadays, smart people are silent, not talking. I didn’t hire you here for an author’s speech, so be kind, work and don’t pretend to be Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin.

[mochie85]

I'll Follow You

One Shot Masterlist | Complete Masterlist

Summary: You came back to the compound, a year later after you left to make your own career, and you are worried about meeting Loki with how things ended when you left. Pairing: Romantic!Loki x OC Female Reader (Foxglove is her Superhero alias.) Word Count: Over 5.3k Warnings: Explicit. Fluff. Angst. Smut. Oral (female receiving). Shadowplay. Hallucinations.

Loki flipped through the magazine at a hurried pace, not looking at the photos or any of the articles. His hands needed something tactile to do. Or else, he feared, he might choke someone with them.

He paused when he saw an advertisement for a watch you were modeling for. There you were—a close-up of your beautiful face. Your eyes were bright and round. Your lips were dewy and sensual. Norns, he missed those lips. Especially when they were wrapped around his…

Ugh. Why can’t I stop thinking of her?! Loki snarled under his breath as he threw the magazine halfway across the room. It landed on the floor right by Sam’s feet. “You dropped this!” Sam said picking it up from the floor. He held it up in the air, not even looking, his attention fully absorbed on the TV screen.

Everyone had gathered to watch the talk show you were appearing on tonight. They couldn’t wait to see you come out and gossip about your life or inconsequential things. The entire team supported you in your decision to leave and start your acting career—everyone, except him.

Loki wanted to leave the room. He should’ve left and not agreed to come and watch the show with the others. He was about to stand up when-

“Shh. Shh. Guys quiet down. Here she is!” Wanda said shushing the entire room.  Loki watched the enormous television, enraptured. The camera panned over to the audience, their loud applause and cheers were deafening. Signs and pictures were held up from a time when you were an Avenger. He couldn’t help but sink further into his chair and get caught up with your grace once again.

“So, Foxglove- can I still call you Foxglove?” The host asked as you sat down.

“Of course, you can,” you beamed at the man behind the desk.

“I- I don’t know the protocol for these things. Do you get to keep the name even though you’re not an Avenger anymore?”

Your practiced laugh showed through your gritted teeth. “It doesn’t work exactly like that. Foxglove is the name I gave myself. I had it with me when I started with the Avengers and took it with me when I left. It wasn’t a title or anything.”

“And did they just let you leave? I would think it was like being in the mafia. ‘You know too many of our secrets. We can’t let you out alive!’ sorta thing,” the host said, thinking he was being clever.

“My friends and colleagues have all been supportive. And I remain in close contact with most of them.”

‘Most of them.’ That statement swirled the emotions Loki was feeling inside. He was not one of those who supported you and was very vocal about it. The fact that you still keep in contact with almost everyone here left him envious.

“And that’s actually part of the reason why I’m here tonight,” you continued. “My dear friend Tony, whom many of you know as Ironman- again, not a title…” you chuckled. “…Is throwing his annual charity gala this spring. This year he decided to make it a month-long occasion with different charities and events happening once a week culminating in the yearly gala at the end of the month.”

“That’s wonderful! That’s all he does when he’s not out saving the world, is party, huh?” the host said looking straight into the camera.

“Asshole!” Tony sassed under his breath, earning a few chuckles from the team.

“And what exactly is your part in this month-long event?” The host asked you.

“Well, I plan to raise money for The Nature Conservancy here in New York. I ask everyone to come and help us plant new trees or donate. Every dollar will be matched, and we can help restore some of the forests, in other parts of the country.”

“The Nature Conservancy is a special organization for you, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s where I first worked. It’s where I first started noticing my powers.”

“Your powers are amazing! You can talk to plants!”

“Well, it’s a lot more complicated than that,” you said with restraint. “Chlorokinesis allows me to excel a plant’s growth to a thousand times what they normally can. I can also enhance their natural defenses and abilities. And like my namesake, Foxglove, I can give you hallucinations when touched.”

“Can we get a demonstration?” the host asked to the cheers of his audience. You reached out to touch him “No, no, no!” he said nervously. “I don’t need any more hallucinations right now!” you both chuckled. “Thank you. But maybe you can make a flower grow?” he suggested, and the audience cheered you on.

“Sure, of course,” you smiled, happily. You rotated your wrists and flicked them around, gesturing for a plant to grow from the host’s wooden desk. The branches wrapped around itself forming a steady trunk. Soon the branches grew out further and further. Blooming wisterias in varying colors began to sprout, amazing the audience.

You used to be unstoppable. You used to tear down enemies left and right, numbing them with your visions before you cut them down and made them regret opposing you. Now you do party tricks for the camera so you can get a laugh from people who don’t care about you. Who didn’t even love you! Loki was furious.

Once again, Loki made to get up. He was almost through the exit of the room when he heard the next question that made him stop.

“So, Foxglove, will you be attending these events alone?” The audience ‘ooh’d’ at the question when the host decided to get a little more personal. “I heard you were cozying up to a certain superhero. Do you like those types? Do you have a type? What does Foxglove look for in a partner?”

You laughed embarrassedly. “These rumors! I swear they pair me up with someone new each week.”

“Oh, but you were seen leaving a nightclub with your costar, Superman himself, Henry Cavil.” The photo was put up on the screen. A picture of the two of you laughing in front of a busy club as Henry gingerly put his arm around your shoulders. The entire room of Avengers whooped and hollered cheering you on.

“We were celebrating. We had just wrapped our movie and it was my first time in London. So, Henry just wanted to show me around. Very friendly. All platonic.” You smiled, blushing. Loki noted that blush. I’ll break him like a twig!

“Ok. Ok. What about your former colleague, Loki of Asgard?” The host asked as a picture of the two of you replaced the one on the screen.

It was a photo taken when the two of you had gotten back from a mission. You had failed and cried about it on the flight back. Loki was wiping the tears from your face, trying to cheer you up. You didn’t know the PR department was there taking shots as all of you disembarked off the jet.

The camera cut back to you and you blushed harder. Once again, Loki noted that blush. He let out a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding and swallowed. Does she miss me too?

“Loki and I have remained good friends. I look forward to seeing him again,” you told the host.

Lies. Not a single word was exchanged between the two of you since you left. The last words you said to him were “I hate you! I never want to see you again!” Loki couldn’t detect any falsehood when you screamed those words at him. That hurt the most.

Everyone turned to where Loki was standing. Some, like Thor, were smiling. Mostly everyone else was shocked.

“What?!” Loki snapped back at them, making everyone turn back to the television.

“Oh! Did you hear that? She wants to see him again.” The host embarrassed you. Your powers grew erratic as a new sprout of branches grew from the tree.

The whole audience was eating it up, clapping. You tried to hide behind your hand, but the different cameras provided different angles of your mortification.

“Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for Foxglove, everybody!” The host said pointing towards you clapping. You laughed and waved at the audience as Wisteria petals fell from the ceiling.

Weeks later, you sat in the back of a Maybach that Tony hired to chauffer you to the gala. This year it would be held at the compound which garnered more donations because everyone wanted to see inside the heavily guarded facility. Your intricate beaded dress fit you snuggly and covered you from shoulders to toe. It ensured that no one would accidentally come in contact with your skin. Especially with how crowded Tony’s parties got. The only wrinkle was from all the times you’ve grabbed it in anxiousness and wrung the fabric.

Why did I let Tony talk me into this?! I should’ve faked sick or something! What if Loki’s there? Of course, he’s there. Where else would he be? What if he doesn’t want to see me again? What if he has a date?! Maybe I should’ve invited Henry? No, no. He’d get the wrong idea. Just drop in, say your hellos, then leave. I don’t have to stay. I’m a grown adult. I can do what I want! FUCK! What if Loki comes and talks to me?

Once past the gates, the car crawled through a winding road with lanterns adorning the pathway. The car stopped at the front steps of the Avenger’s compound and you could hear the heavy bass of the music pounding through the car windows as bright lights and lasers littered the night sky.

You made your way through security to the massive, yet highly decorated, quinjet hangar and a sweeping staircase that descended to an impressive room below. You smiled, reminiscing about all the parties and events you attended as an Avenger- sweet memories that erased the worry you had when you were in the car. Picking up your gown, you gracefully descended the staircase. Keeping your eyes trained on the steps below, you tried not to look around, to look for him.

“Fox! I can’t believe you’re here!” Wanda shrieked as she ran up to you. She squeezed your sleeved arm and pressed her cheek on your shoulder.

“I’ve missed you, Wanda!” you said kissing the top of her hair.

“Come on. Everyone’s here- well, almost everyone,” she corrected herself. “We haven’t seen you in so long. Everyone wants to catch up.” She led you along to the bar where you were greeted by your former teammates. You were grateful that Loki wasn’t among them. He always loved these parties. You actively refused invites the past year just to avoid him. Awkward hugs and pleasantries were shared. Drinks were offered along with your first few dances promised to Sam and Wanda.

After hours of conversations with the team, and some drinks with Tony, you fell back into a sense of belonging and family. You didn’t realize how much you missed your friends here. How much you missed being an Avenger. It got so lonely most nights not having anyone to talk to. At least here, you would have had Nat or Bucky to train with in the middle of the night.

Or Loki to keep you company.

You groaned internally. You couldn’t help but be on edge all night, thinking about him and wondering if Loki was ever going to show up.

Before leaving for the night, you excused yourself to get some fresh air. There was a greenhouse in the back glades of the compound that you frequented most nights just to be alone. You used to make the hedges grow all around, giving you a private garden away from the rest of the world.

Inside, it was as if you had never left. The plants stood tall as if to greet you. Bright flowers bloomed in different colors as if in competition to win your adoration. And in the back corner, hidden behind large monstera plants, was a cove of plush blankets and chairs that you hid from anyone ever finding. Everyone except, “Loki?”

Loki sat in the rattan chair; his legs crossed reading a magazine with your picture on the cover. He looked as breathtaking as the first time you saw him, like trouble and a promise all wrapped up in his pressed monochromatic black suit. His mischievous smile appeared, tempting you closer.

“Hello, Foxglove,” he greeted you. His voice sending shivers down your spine. Fight or flight? Fight or flight? You kept repeating in your head.

“I…didn’t know this spot was taken. I won’t bother you. Goodnight,” you hastily said as you turned to leave.

“Wait!” he cried standing up. You could feel him grab hold of your wrist. You looked down to see his shadow holding on to you like a dear friend, shadow to skin. It’s been so long since you’ve been touched. It’s been so hard to be intimate with anyone because of your body’s defense mechanism. And here was Loki, the only man who figured out a loophole to your little enigma.

“I just wanted to say…” Loki paused, staring only into your eyes. “Y-you look beautiful tonight.” You pulled your hand away from his shadow and stayed quiet. “I saw you. We… the team… saw you on the talk show. You’ve done amazing things this past year. One movie, a television show, countless endorsements.”

“Still don’t think I can make it?” you challenged.

“Fox, it was never about that!” he argued. His sudden outburst propelled him like a predator. He stalked his way closer to you, making you back into the glass wall of the greenhouse. You caught whiffs of his cologne mixed with the tropical scent of the flowers all around you. He stopped when he realized he had alarmed you. “I should not have advanced on you so quickly. I apologize.”

“It’s all right. Just habit, I guess.” You were always conscious of people touching you and getting too close. You never wanted to be the cause of their hallucinations. Loki felt relieved that he hadn’t scared you off. His shadow stood ahead of him, rubbing your arm with the back of his fingertips, trying to mollify your anxiousness.

Loki watched and waited as you settled. Jealousy festered in his body at the sight of his shadow being able to comfort you and he couldn’t. “You look… breathtaking, by the way.” He tried to soothe.

“You already said that,” you said curtly, blushing. Loki loved your blush. He loved getting under your skin and teasing you.

“Is your new lover here with you tonight? Got sick of the real superheroes, had to get yourself a pretend one?” he tried deflecting. Loki smirked looking through the glass and out to the party to see if he could spot Cavill.

“As I recall, you wanted nothing to do with me once I stepped foot out of your room,” you said quoting him from the last time you spoke. “So, it’s none of your business whether or not Henry and I are together.”

“But you are…together?” he asked. His stare was unwavering, demanding an answer to his desperate question.

“I don’t need this right now!” You were angry and speechless. He doesn’t have the right to question your life’s choices especially when he wanted no part of them in the first place.

You moved to get away from his shadow’s hold and out of the greenhouse. Loki followed you close. “Fox, please. Stop.”

“Why are you even here, Loki?” you called back, briskly walking towards the exit. “You knew this was- This was my spot. MY SPOT!” you yelled, turning abruptly towards him.

“Because I wanted a chance to talk to you in private! Without the cameras or the paparazzi. Without some life-or-death mission hanging over our heads. I needed to see your face again, without all these people trying to steal your attention away from me.” He stopped and watched you reach for the door to go outside. “I’m sorry, Vixen.”

Vixen.

Feelings you thought you had buried deep down inside of you started to resurface. All because of that name he used. The one he would whisper as he called for you in his arms late at night. The name he used when he made you laugh so hard the only way to stop you was to kiss you.

The one name he knew would stop you in your tracks… because it was the one name he used when he was about to touch you himself.

“I am sorry if I ever made you feel…”

“Unworthy? Incapable? Useless?!” you turned as you accused him.

“Unwanted,” he finished.

Real tears fell down your face now. Loki cupped your cheek and wiped it away with his thumb. You could feel the heat in his touch. The energy. You’ve felt it with his shadow, but there was always something electrifying and passionate when Loki touched you himself.

It was a luxury to feel this connection with someone. To feel the warmth from his fingers. The callouses in his palms. You imagined feeling his soft lips on you once again until you stopped yourself. It was a dangerous path to have such expectations right now. You opened your teary eyes to find Loki watching you.

His eyes darted around to your surroundings before he closed them and tried to focus back on you. “You are very much wanted, Vixen. I just couldn’t admit to myself how much I wanted you back then.”

He opened his eyes to yours. The swirl of emotion in them was breathtaking. It was then that you saw his true face for the first time. His emotions. His thoughts. He was stripped of his armor and his pretenses. You felt as if you two were the only thing that existed in that time and space. As if he were holding his life, right there cupped in between his hands.

Your heart pounded in your ears as he continued his confession. “I am a jealous god. You know this. I didn’t want to share you with anybody. I wanted to keep you to myself. To keep you from the world. I was afraid that you would tire of me like you did with being an Avenger. Cast me out after seeing what the world out there could offer you.”

Loki placed his forehead to yours, feeling your breath on his lips. He bared it all for you tonight. He admitted something you knew was difficult for him to confess.

But could it erase what he made you feel for wanting to follow your dreams? Horrible and selfish. Untalented. Unwanted.

“I love you.” Your eyes grew wide at his expression. “I loved you then. I’ve loved you since. I am still deeply in love with you. Even now, when you’re about to run away from me, my heart won’t let me forget you. I was afraid that I would have no place in the world that you were creating for yourself. So, for that, I am sorry.” You closed your eyes and lingered in his touch a while longer.

“I wanted to apologize. I never got a chance to see you again after our fight, and I regret that I never made amends to you. You had every right to follow your path. I shouldn’t have stopped you. I should’ve supported you.” His thumb caressed your cheeks back and forth. You always did have the softest skin, unblemished by anyone else’s touch, he thought.  “You don’t have to say it back. You don’t have to say anything at all. And if you want to leave now, I won’t stop you. Never again. But I just needed you to know how I felt.”

Do you love him? You asked yourself as you looked into his variegated eyes. Did you spend every night thinking about him? Did you ignore the compound, and your friends, this past year just to avoid seeing him again? Afraid that he would have someone new in his life? Did you miss his voice when he says your name? His kisses? His touch?

“Yes,” you answered yourself. Loki’s brows knitted in confusion. “Loki, I understand now. Thank you… what I said to you back then, I was angry, but...” you tried to start.

Loki smiled, placing a kiss on your forehead. “We were both angry and said things we didn’t mean. Me more than you. Please don’t apologize. Least of all to me.” He exhaled as his eyes darted around again. You nodded your head, accepting his grace- forgiving you without having to apologize.

You looked up at his eyes, filled with wonder, “What do you see? When you touch me?” you asked gently. All this time you never thought to ask him.

“I see what I always see. Since the very first time I touched you. Do you remember?” You shook your head no. “They showed a picture of it on the talk show.” Realization sunk in. “I was wiping your tears just like now.”

Loki looked around again and smiled, putting his hands in his pockets. “I see home. I see the woods that used to grow behind the castle walls. Thor and I used to sneak out when we were children and climb the trees. The same woods we used as hunting grounds when we got older. Would you like to see it?”

No one had ever asked you that before.  No one had ever had the power to do that before! You nodded and faint green smoke rose from his fingers. Your vision got blurry as the greenhouse was replaced by a dense forest. The trees were tall and luscious. Strands of warm light filtered through the canopy above shining down on the emerald grass below.

“Come with me.” Loki held your hand as he walked further into the woods. Dead leaves and twigs crunched at your feet as a soft breeze blew through the lace of your dress giving you goosebumps. “There’s a glade up ahead where we can just lay on the grass. I used to spend my free time there, letting the hours idle away.” The thought made you smile.

Sure enough, a clearing began to form up ahead. Long, soft grass weaved itself as it grew amongst large wildflowers. The filtered light from the canopy above made the blooms shine like jewels on a bed of velvet.

“I have yet to see anywhere comparable to this place on Midgard,” Loki said circling the glade, a look of homesickness in his eyes. “That metropolis has nothing compared to the splendor of these woods.”

“It’s beautiful.” You said walking towards him. A path of small wildflowers blooming with every step you made.

“Thank you. It is beautiful. But still an illusion. We are still very much in the greenhouse by the compound. You’re just seeing what I’m seeing at the moment.” You reached out towards a tree and felt cold glass instead of bark.

“You see this every time you’ve touched me? Every time we’ve…”

“Hmm,” Loki nodded solemnly. “Sometimes it's these woods. Other times it's my bedchambers in the palace. Yet, every time I’m with you, I see this- my childhood home. I haven’t been back since you left.” Loki bent down and picked up a wildflower that had grown in your stride. “I try to conjure it myself, but it never feels the same. The colors aren’t as vibrant. Not as much warmth.” He placed the flower on your ear, pushing your stray hair back. His hands ventured further down, tracing the beads of your sleeves.

“I’ve missed you,” he admitted.

“You’ve missed me? Or you’ve missed my powers and that they can bring you home?” you asked slightly jilted.

Loki looked deeply into your eyes as he turned you into his embrace. Your hands fell onto his arms and the look he gave you stole your breath away. “You are my home,” he confessed with a passion and honesty you’ve never heard from him before.  

He wasted no time. He gave you no warning as he conceded to his urges and kissed you fervidly. The soft lips you were fantasizing about earlier painted a poor picture of his actual kiss. Soft yet demanding. Giving, yet always ravenous. It was as if no time had passed between you two. You were back in his arms kissing him and it felt like he described it. Home.

“All I ever wanted was to have you here in my arms,” he breathed in between kisses. Your hands found their way into his hair, pulling him back to you for another kiss. His arms wrapped selfishly around you, holding you tighter to him.

The heat was too much. It’s been so long since you’ve been held so intimately. But with Loki’s lips devoted to your neck, you would burn gladly. You would die happily on this pyre- as the last thing you would hear would be Loki moaning in your ears.

You were lost in his haze, caught up in the moment with the feel of his body against yours. He pushed you against the tree and you felt the cold glass of the greenhouse against your back.

Loki towered over you, “Tell me you want this,” he whispered onto your noxious skin. “Tell me you’ve missed this and want this with me.” He looked into your eyes, imploring something deep and vulnerable inside you.

“I do, Loki. I want this with you” You moaned holding tight against his grip. You felt his hands gather your dress skirt. Slowly his hands wandered, savoring the feel of your soft skin. His hallucinations were getting more and more vivid. Believable. Or perhaps it was just his kiss, sending you into slight delirium yourself.

Loki hurriedly took off his suit jacket and flung it across the room. He knelt in front of you, in between your parted legs as he raised your left knee above his shoulders- kissing his way up to your inner thighs. “Loki is this real?” you asked looking around you.

“Gods, I hope so,” he prayed, leaving a mark on your thigh. He kissed his way up to your core and licked you through the fabric of your panties. You heard the sheer cotton tear as his fingers brushed up against your eager clit.

Your fingers ran through his hair, pulling when he licked a wide stripe in between your folds. Your knees buckled at the sensation and soon you were reaching around yourself for something to hold. Something to keep you up as Loki lost himself in your wet arousal.

The cold glass of the greenhouse was replaced by the feeling of something warm and sturdy behind you. You looked up to see that Loki’s shadow had positioned himself to where his chest was flushed against your back- his dark hands roaming your body. His arms reached forward to hold your dress up above your waist, aiding Loki in his endeavors.

You felt a kiss on your neck, a quick peck as if he was asking for permission or giving you a warning. You yelped as his shadow quickly lifted you by your hips and Loki pushed both your knees up for his shadow to hold.

“Loki!”

“Yes, my love?” he asked as he continued to latch his mouth and draw on your aching cunt. Loki’s shadow spread your legs. You were splayed open and exposed. Leaving Loki to devote his tongue to you. You reached up and ran your hands through his shadow's hair, pulling as he sweetly kissed your neck.  

You couldn’t help the moans and loud whimpers escaping your lips. You bucked your hips onto Loki’s face as your head reared back onto his shadow’s shoulders.

“Come for me, Fox. Let me hear you,” he commanded as he continued his consumption of you. “Let me taste you again. Give me what I’ve been missing. What I’ve been craving.” He said the last words to your tormented clit. You shuddered violently as moans and whimpers of his name fell from your lips. “That’s it. There you go, Vixen,” he cooed as he drank your arousal and lapped around your thighs.

His shadow laid you down gently and you felt the plush pillows and cold blankets from the greenhouse corner underneath you. A warring sensation against the heat of Loki’s body pressed on top of you. A bit of reality mixed in with the illusion Loki was scarcely hanging on to.

His hands fondled your every curve and every soft line. You cupped his face and led him to your kiss. His soft lips quivered when you reached in between your bodies and stroked his clothed erection. So hard and so tight. He breathed a sigh of relief when you unzipped his pants and stroked him.

“Fuck,” he moaned. Your name followed next as he bucked his hips into your hand. “Vixen…tell me you’re mine,” he panted. He kissed you hard, not letting you reply, afraid of your answer. You lined him up next to your expecting cunt and pulled him inside you.

You bit your lip and moaned as the look of pure pleasure radiated through your face. “Tell me…” he tried again as he pushed his hips into you repeatedly.

“I love you, Loki,” you moaned. His eyebrows slanted skeptically, stilling his movements and letting your words sink into his thoughts. “I’ve always been yours.” You admitted.

His kiss was magic. It was passion and life. Remorse and reconciliation all at once. He began his movements again at a steady pace, savoring your tight walls around him. You could feel the ridges on his shaft with every euphoric pull and thrust. His head bowed at the sheer power of your declaration. “Say it again…” he whispered.

“I’m yours,” you moaned.

“…say it…” he bit his lips. “…ag-again…please…” His eyes were closed as he focused on the agonizingly drawn-out movements of his hips to yours.

“I love you, Loki,” you cried as he slammed against you. You squeezed around him finally pushing him off that edge. Loosening the tight hold he had on his pleasure and pouring it all into you. The wave of bliss hit you hard and you came onto his throbbing cock at the same time.  

Spent and panting next to you, Loki held you close. His kisses were endless. Your cheeks and jaw would be bruised tomorrow from the affection he was showering you with. His hands were always touching you. Your neck, your face. Your thigh that was wrapped around his legs. You lost all track of time being with the god of mischief and soon the bright sunlight that trickled down to the forest floor was replaced by the harsh glare of the greenhouse overhead lamp.

Loki had little strength left to keep the illusion up any longer. He seemed weary but content. You kissed him fleetingly as you sat up back to reality. “Stay,” he said softly. “The one thing I didn’t say last time…I’m saying it now. Don’t go. Stay.” His hands held yours tightly.

So many feelings were attached to that one word. The weight of it crushing your heart. “I’m not asking you to give up your life. I’m not asking you to stay just for the night either. I’m asking for you to just be,” he smiled at you. “Be who you want to be and I will support you like I should have.”

You crawled back to him, settling your head on your propped-up elbows, while your other hands played with the buttons on his shirt. “And if I decide to go?”

“Then I’ll do the one thing I should’ve done last time but didn’t.” he smiled as you looked at him expectantly. “I’ll follow you.”

A/N: This was a request sent in and I'm sorry to say it took this long for me to finish it. I hope you like it my lovely @gruftiela. I tried to stick to the vibe of the song. But I also added lyrics from one of my other favorite Depeche Mode songs. See if you can spot it 😝.

🏷️ @emarich7 @michelleleewise @coldnique @psychospore @lokisgoodgirl @silverfire475 @fictive-sl0th @springdandelixn @wheredafandomat @goldencherriess @peaches1958 @salempoe @thomase1 @kkdvkyya @a-witch-with-words @mischief2sarawr @sarawr-reads @vbecker10 @peachymallow @irishhappiness @cakesandtom @simplyholl @here4thefanfics @tallseaweed @holdmytesseract @immersed-in-mischief @joyful-enchantress @lokisninerealms @kikster606 @glitterylokislut @loz-3 @slytherclaw1227 @chantsdemarins @the-lady-amphitrite @eleniblue @km-ffluv @lokidokieokie @n3rdybirdee @melsunshine @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokischambermaid @cjand10 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @chrisevansmaindish

[reds-writings]

rust cohle headcanons

(pairing: rust cohle x fem!reader)

a/n: here's some more rust brain rot on my behalf <3 feedback is always appreciated!

warnings: implications of sex, light cursing, etc. let me know if i missed anything! (minors shoo!)

word count: roughly 1k

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adding to the headcanon floating around of him being an acts of service type man through and through. yes, he can go on neverending tangents but sometimes words about his more sentimental/mushy feelings are better demonstrated by him being at your near beck and call whenever you’re in need

you don’t even have to directly ask him to do anything. it’s more like if you were to mention offhand that something in your car didn’t sound right or your fence needed some redoing they’d find themselves fixed within the coming days without so much as another word 

that man is crafty and i cannot be convinced otherwise! the little beer can people he made are just a small example of what he can do with his hands. one day in town you saw a beautiful chestnut dining table but it was just a tad out of your price range so you figured you’d save up a little more for it and get it the next time you stopped by 

rust had some downtime (more like made downtime during his bouts of extreme insomnia) and got to building. it was a while after and by that time you had long forgotten about the table you saw until one day you got home from work only to find an ornately designed table in your dining room. it was a bit different than the one you’d spotted at the shop but no less beautiful. in fact it was even more gorgeous with its polished shine and intricate details 

you had searched for a note or maybe even a sign left anywhere of the maker that it came from to then spot a neatly carved ‘RC’ underneath one of the tabletop’s lefthand corners 

your fingers grazed over the simple set of initials as your brain damn near short-circuited at the fact that this man built you a damn table. with his bare hands. rust cohle saw that you liked a table and decided to just make it himself

you’d made your way to the receiver on your wall after snapping out of your disbelief and rang him up

“You built me a table.” You said it more as a statement than a question instead of a normal greeting.

“I did.” His tone held no sense of pride or smugness at your shock. As if this were no big deal at all.

“You built me a table. When did you have time to build me a whole table? In fact, when’d you start bein’ able make tables in the first place-”

“D’ya like it?” He interjected in that lackadaisical way of his and you paused. 

“...I love it.” 

“Good.” 

“Well, I guess then it’d only be fair for me to invite you over for dinner so that we may put this lovely new table to good use. As thanks of course.” 

You heard him huff in fond amusement on the other line, “Yes, ma’am.” 

y’all put that table to good use alright 

he’s more of a grappler than a cuddler when it comes to sharing a bed

he holds you as if in need of tethering himself. it was as if he were to let go somehow this wouldn’t be real and your presence would flit away should he loosen his grip at any given moment 

if you get too hot in the night any point of minimal contact was still initiated like tangling your foot with his or linking pinkies just so he knew you were nearby (this happens longer down the line in your relationship when he feels a bit more comfortable having someone in his space a bit more constantly) 

quality time together isn’t necessarily always spent doing something totally stimulating or exciting 

it could be as simple as cooking dinner together or curling up on your sofa while he reads and you watch something soapy on television 

he’s a very private man so going out to do something super couple-y isn’t really up his alley. he won’t really ever deny you if you wanted to really switch it up and go to places like bars, the movies, fancy restaurants, etc. he’d just find himself more reserved in more public spaces but no less completely and utterly focused on you

he’s not much of a dancer but don’t get it twisted. his ass can dance. the man is from Texas so you best believe he has more than a few line-dancing routines ingrained in the depths of his mind

on the very few occasions you’ve gotten him to agree to dance with you when you’re out you nearly laugh every time with how seriously he takes it 

you find yourself cooking food for him often. not that he ever expects it of you but living off of cigarettes and beer can only do so much for a guy. he genuinely forgets that his body needs a meal when he gets all caught up in his work (you don’t bother nagging at him much because he’s grown and more stubborn than anything at times) 

if you aren’t available to check in on him you’re not above making Marty grab something for him when they’re stuck at work 

any kiss he gives you is not one made in passing. anything rust does has some level of deep intent behind it but he never kisses you or says ‘i love you’ out of routine or empty habit

he’s a deeply feeling guy and a lot more handsier the longer you’re together (usually still only in the privacy of your own home). it goes back to just having to feel tethered or connected to you! it comforts the more broken/scared bits of him knowing that you’re just there and present and real

his synesthesia can make things overwhelmingly intense so sometimes when you’re out or after certain activities he finds himself in need of longer moments to himself (which you never take personally) 

in less serious moments you find yourself asking him the dumbest questions you can about smelling colors or tasting places 

“So does that mean Marty’s got a taste to him? You've tasted your coworker?” You snickered as you lay beneath the weeping willow in your front yard with him.

“It don’t work like that.” He said around the unlit cigarette in this mouth, tone sounding as if he were entertaining a silly child. 

“Nuh-uh! You said somethin’ awhile back about my presence tastin’ like jasmine and clementines or somethin’-”

“Drop it.”

You poked your tongue in your cheek trying not to giggle. 

“I bet you Marty tastes like stale coffee and I dunno…regret-” You snapped out a surprised laugh as you felt a quick pinch on your side. 

[frownyalfred]

But how would Bruce sweep in to help the Kents without raising suspicion on himself? Even if he did it anonymously, theres few people in Gotham that could have the power to so quickly get them out of the public eye. And if he does it publicly, I'm assuming he claims he was doing it to protect the JL as Bruce publicly funds them? Or would he essentially release a statement saying that as a close friend of Clark Kent, he wishes to protect him from the media as he of all people knows how vicious they can be? Idk, I completely agree that Bruce would be the one to get them out, the question is just how?

My heart also breaks for Clark because this is obviously one of the last things he ever wanted to occur. Superman's love for humanity is obvious to everyone and the loss of his civilian identity destroys any chance of him being able to interact with them outside of his superhero identity. Its one thing having to wait for something in the media to 'blow over' but this isn't your everyday politic scandal or other media story, this is the reveal of the man behind one of the Trinity itself, the reveal of Superman. It could easily take months before it stops being the front page cover of every newspaper and after that, what then? How do they move forward?

And all of this doesn't even begin to consider the guilt Clark would feel for ruining Lois and the kids' lives. Everyone would reassure him it wasn't his fault but Clark would obviously take responsibility for this, telling himself he should have been more careful, more secretive, more vigilant. That as a result of his lack of caution, he'd ruined any chance his kids and Lois had at a (somewhat) normal life. I feel like I could even see him being embarrassed to accept Bruce's help, chastising himself for not planning for contingencies like Bruce had.

Sorry to dump all this on you, I'm just so intrigued by the aftermath of the reveal itself.

No it’s a very valid question! In that media/public world, getting them out of the public eye as quickly as possible is the number one priority. That doesn’t need to be attributed to Bruce right away, or even at all — the Kents (all of them) disappear as quickly as possible. They fly to an agreed-upon rendezvous or they are taken there by private security hired by Bruce.

Once there, that’s when the PR shitstorm hits. Superman and his family are found out, maybe there were a few brief videos of them leaving or being escorted out of their workplace (Lois) or flying away from their school (Jon) but nothing long, nothing conclusive.

The media cycle begins. Interviews with the Kent’s’ friends, colleagues, neighbors, etc proliferate the news. Everyone is cashing in on what they can. Bruce, if he’s smart, has Clark and his family locked down somewhere they can’t watch television and is handling the response on his own.

But the reality is, there is not much Bruce CAN do, for the reasons you mentioned. Publicly tying himself to Superman and his family puts WE under greater scrutiny. Coming out in defense of Clark’s lies suggests he 1) knew about them and 2) approves of Superman’s decision to hide from the public.

I’m not sure that conversation between friends will go well. Bruce telling Clark there’s no way to return to their previous lives, not without significant security risks (not to mention the social strain) and Clark spiraling as he realizes he’s inadvertently taken away his Ma’s knitting circle, Lois’ job, Jon’s school.

It’s all different now. If he’s lucky, Bruce has plans to funnel them into a sort of witness protection, maybe in a few years when things settle down. But that would mean splitting them up — and that’s non negotiable. Even keeping Ma and Pa together is a stretch. They’re too easily recognizable.

I imagine maybe Bruce can give them a sort of asylum in the Watchtower, operating outside of any Earth’s jurisdiction. But that puts scrutiny on the Justice League instead. And Bruce is the kind of person to keep the JL autonomous and take the heat on WE if needed — even if he never mentions it.

There are things that Bruce would need to step in on: connections starting to be made between himself and Clark, accusations of Clark not being a US citizen (and Jon too, but because he’s an alien) and Lois for lying to the US government. Accusations that the Justice League was culpable in any way for Superman’s civilian actions. Scrutiny on WE and how much Bruce Wayne knows or should know, or how his funding is connected to a JL that is now under investigation etc.

But yes: I think Bruce could get them out and hidden without tipping his hand. But everything else, yeah, he would need to step into the spotlight at least a little. And he would do that for Clark, because that’s his friend. He’s had this complex series of contingencies ready since…maybe Clark and Lois’ engagement?

Having been in some PR crises, you need a Bruce. Someone not affected directly and cool/calm enough to speak to media, move people around, and make judgement calls. Clark is lucky he has such a friend, even if he’s beating himself up over his own actions and missteps.

I have more (probably more coherent) thoughts about this, but that’s my initial reaction — Bruce gets them out fine, but next steps are very, very complicated. And things won’t ever be normal again.

[carlsangel]

SO FUCKING ANXIOUS

carl grimes x reader

(negan arrives to alexandria and carl knows how to make you feel better.)

tags: some angst but mostly fluff

masterlist here!

sorry for the aggressive title :>

The apocalypse was never easy on you, granted it wasn’t easy on anyone but you were always the type to say you’d never make it in a world like that. And you believed that, genuinely. Until you met Carl. You felt so lucky to have someone like him to love you, he’d known you so well, especially after all you’d been through together.

After the prison and Terminus, you hated the thought of crossing any human again, anyone who wasn’t in the group.

He knew everything that was slightly stress inducing to you, he made sure to make you feel relatively safe even in the worst of situations. When you’d gotten to Alexandria, you felt so incredibly relieved. Strong walls, not having to worry about scavenging for dinner or walkers, you were ecstatic.

That was until walkers had breached the walls. Every feeling you had telling you were safe was gone completely. Everything worsened when Carl got shot, you had no idea what to do or who to go to. You’d gone to him for everything and he couldn’t be there for you this time.

You had hoped and hoped for hours he’d wake up. Eventually he did and everything was weary for a month or two. The transition back to normal after losing the sense of security in Alexandria was rough. You didn’t think you’d be able to return to normal. You saw a slight glimpse of hope as new settlements were introduced.

That also went to shit.

You knew what your people had done at the satellite station would come back to bite you all in the ass and you couldn’t help but feel so fucking anxious about it.

The night of the lineup was your worst nightmare come to life. Carl checked up on you throughout, knowing how you could get in those kinds of situations. He reassured you no matter how many times a savior told him to shut his trap. He didn’t care. Not about them. But he cared about you.

Thankfully Carl was able to help your through your nerves, and he did that successfully quite often. He was especially helpful when Negan and the Saviors had arrived to Alexandria’s gates.

One particular afternoon Negan had arrived with his men was a particularly hard day for you. You weren’t expecting them, they had come early.

Usually the saviors never interacted with you but today…was different. Carl had found a Walkman for you so that whenever you got anxious you could just listen to music and hold his hand and you’d feel okay. Once the message that the Saviors had arrived relayed back to the two of you, Carl told you to listen to music and stick by his side.

Your thoughts immediately turned to the worst. What if they did something to you, what if they took you. What if they too Carl? You wouldn’t be able to handle that. You can barely last a couple hours without him, you wouldn’t be okay if they did something to him or took him back to the sanctuary.

So you did. Carl took your hand and wandered through Alexandria with you, ensuring everyone was safe as the Saviors raided the place. You noticed something across the street. Negan was harassing a woman that had lived there since the beginning. They were practically ripping apart the inside of her house as she waited outside.

“Look, lady, with all due respect, I really don’t think this television is this goddamn important.” Negan says, mocking the woman who was sobbing at the fact her home was being destroyed, not about the stupid TV. Your grip on Carl’s hand grew tighter and you couldn’t help but retreat behind him a little. Negan laughed at the woman and looked around to see if anyone was watching and unfortunately he caught a glimpse of the two of you.

You both tried continuing down the path before he called out.

“Woahhh where you both off to in a hurry?” His tone is sardonic and you both stop in your tracks. Carl looks at you and slides the headphones off your ears to rest them at the back of your neck. “Let me handle it. It’ll be okay.” He reassures, knowing this would be harsh on you. He pulls you in to place a kiss at the top of your head which was unusual for him. He was never affectionate in public, let alone in front of Negan and the Saviors. He was trying to make you feel better.

He turns to Negan and clutches your hand before slowly making his way across the street to the woman’s house where he remained, the woman now sitting on the steps of her house unable to cry anymore.

“What do we have here? The pirate and his partner?” He giggles and you hold Carl’s arm, standing somewhat behind him, avoiding Negan’s gaze. Carl just looks at him silently, not stirring anything up with him to ensure your safety. Negan looks at the two of you, trying to figure out some way to break you. He reaches around Carl and grabs your arm, pulling you beside him rather than behind him. Carl does nothing but glare at Negan.

“This one’s a little shy, huh?” Carl tilts his head and Negan grins at this, wagging his finger in Carls face. “Watch that eye. You know what happened to your dad the last time he looked at me like that if you-” Carl cuts him off. “What do you want?” He snaps. “Hold on now, no need to get snippy at me, young man.” Negan says comedically. “I just wanna see what music is on the tapes.” He gestures to the Walkman attached to your jeans.

“It’s not yours.” Carl blurted, realizing he’d definitely get a reaction from the way he worded his statement. “Oh Carl, you see, it is mine actually. Because everything here, all the shit that’s yours, is mine. Remember? I’m sure you do.” He turns to you. “And I know you do too, you were there for that lesson if I recall correctly.” Negan remarked, rubbing the worst night of your life in your face. “God damn, were you crying like hell. I’m surprised that many tears could come out of a person like that.” He laughs, you feel tears begin welling in your eyes.

Carl notices and feels helpless for a moment, unsure of what to do. He looks to Negan and sighs. “Please. Just…don’t take it.” He says, almost a whisper. Negan looks at him and steps back from the both of you. You retreat back behind Carl and Negan smiles. “Since I’m feelin oh-so generous today, I’ll let you keep the damn Walkman. I just wanna know whatcha listenin to.” He says to you, tilting to the side since you’re practically hiding behind Carl at this point.

The tears have left your eyes, now irrelevant as you muster up the courage to talk to him without crying more. “I-Its just Fleetwood Mac.” You answer. He nods with a satisfied look on his face. You grip onto Carl’s arm a tad tighter and his hand slides into yours. “Well that’s a very good choice.” He smiles. “Now why don’t you go find your dad and send him my way. I want him to walk me out like a proper host.” He tells Carl.

Finally.

After the saviors had left that evening you and Carl returned back to the house, or rather what was left of it. They had only really left the couch and the chairs, they took yours and Carl’s bed and most of the other furniture in the house. You sat on the couch with Carl, lying on top of him as you listened to your music. He rubbed your back gently as he rested his head against your ear to hear the music as well. That was his next mission: find earbuds.

He scoots back a little and slides the headphone off your ear. “You feelin better?” He asks softly. You nod. “Yeah I’m okay. Just got a little worried I guess.” You respond as he runs his hand through your hair.

“You don’t have to be. I’m here for you. I promise.”

a/n: i hope this was okayyyy i love writing negan for some reason, he’s so funny. anyway this was funnn so thank u anon i hope you like it :D i also hope you guys like fleetwood mac or this is gonna be really awkward :o

[t-a-a-1]

The Darkest Hour

(TFP Optimus x Female Reader)

Summary:

After being labeled as crazy for trying to report that robot aliens exist on national television, you lose your job and move to Jasper City. In a drastic turn of fate, you meet Optimus Prime. You and Team Prime get together to find ancient relics that are vital to the Autobot's cause.

Along the way, you and Optimus start to develop feelings that go beyond comradeship.

But what happens when he discovers you've been lying all of this time?

……..

This story is a slow burn. Eventual smut. Optimus develops an unhealthy attachment (he is smitten, obsessed) to you but nothing OOC. Lots of yearning, craving, hurt, betrayal, erotic and that good stuff. Ok bye. In case of any questions, comments, concerns, suggestions, requests, etc, you may message me here. Thank you for reading! For A better reading experience you may read this story on Ao3.

>>> https://archiveofourown.org/works/60642838/chapters/154846393

Ch.1: The Crossroads Of Destiny

"During times of war, there is no good or bad. Everyone is a victim and an abuser. But it's good to remember that the best thing a person can do is to be kind and show mercy to the enemy."

Everyone needs a pep talk once in a while. Even Optimus Prime.

After the death of Cliffjumper, there wasn't much morale going around in the base. Just a very uncomfortable quietness. It was like an unspeakable agreement between Team Prime to never really speak of their feelings. Whether it had become customary to lose the ones they cared about, they didn't see the point.

It's a war after all.

"It takes one act of kindness to change people's hearts and everyone has the ability to change. Together we can transform this hateful world into one of peace."

Nonetheless, he found comfort in the small things. He wasn't fond of human entertainment but he deemed it necessary to learn the current happenings of the world. That was the main reason he installed a TV in his private quarters. With all the main news channels. He wasn't surprised to see robberies, murders, abuse and the constant wars. He was too familiar with it all.

But one day as he passed by one of the channels he found something, or rather someone who caught his attention.

"I believe anyone can be a hero."

The reporter always had something good to say. Just like him, this individual has been through countless wars and witnessed many misfortunes. Optimus knew this because he would never miss the news just to watch this specific reporter. Or if he did, he made sure to record it so he could watch it later. This human had somehow become a small hope for him. Encouraging words when he needed it the most.

"But the world will always need a true leader in the darkest hour."

And Primus knows he needs it.

.

.

.

"Reporting to you live, (Reader), CNF News."

You should have stopped being so biased and giving your opinion on everything when your boss first told you to.

You hated watching your old reports but you needed to see what was so wrong with them for CNF to fire you. Now you can see why.

Hero? Hope? Peace? Love?

You were young and stupid to believe in all of that. You had grown now and after seeing so much malice in this world, your opinion had completely changed.

Now you were in Jasper City. Not so much of a city more like a town. With its small population, they had a local news station that was willing to give you a job.

"I have insiders in the government telling me that aliens are real! I even have footage and locations where they have appeared!"

That was one of the few things you told your boss before he fired you. Of course, it wasn't just that. Your ticket out was trying to report your findings live on national television, with video, graphics and all. Of course, the station cut you off the broadcast the moment you started to sound like crazy.

But it was enough to ban you from all major broadcasting companies. Not even print media would accept you. Not the New York Times, not The Wall Street Journal, not even lifestyle magazines wanted you.

You had so much information to share. Like how you were able to track down locations that lead to items of alien origin. You didn't know what the items were for but by investigating ancient legends, you assumed that they were important.

"So, (Y/N), what are you going to be reporting on?"

Your new boss came into your small office. Not really an office but rather a desk that you shared with the other ten people.

"I've been investigating and on a few forums, it says that this town has a government base not too far from here," you typed in your laptop and quickly flipped it to show your boss various pictures. "Apparently, the base is used for weaponry manufacturing and other .... Illicit activities."

"Look, when we hired you, we didn't need a crazy alien believer," he put a hand on his eyes and moved it down his face, clearly frustrated. "We just needed someone who met deadlines."

"But isn't our job as journalists to bring the truth to the people? Don't you want to know where your taxes are going?"

"Look, this is Jasper City, the most interesting thing that has ever happened here is a pig that gave birth to another pig with two heads," he pointed to the wall and you followed it with your eyes. It was indeed, a newspaper cut out of the birth of a mutated pig.

"There is a new coffee shop opening tomorrow, why don't you report on that instead?"

"But, Mr. Jones-"

"Coffee shop. Tomorrow," he said in a commanding tone. "And upload the package on the rundown before midnight."

.

.

.

You pulled out a lighter and started smoking a cigarette on the outside of a bar. You were planning on coming down from your car and drinking a beer. However, after careful consideration, you didn't want to deal with strangers. You didn't want any 'Are you new to town? Haven't seen you around."

You knew that would happen, after all, you came from a small city before moving to New York to be a reporter. Now you are back to a smaller town you weren't even familiar with.

You had gone to the coffee shop opening and turned in your report before the deadline.

From reporting on corruption, war and crimes ... you went to reporting ... whatever this was.

You looked outside your car and noticed a military vehicle parked in front of you. Two guys in uniform come out of it, stretching their arms and yawning.

"Do you think it's safe for us to let that box unguarded?"

"Yeah, it's just some papers. Nothing to worry about. We are close to base anyways, we deserve a beer for our hard work."

One of them carelessly put the truck's keys in his back pocket and as you expected, it fell to the ground.

"Old job, here I come."

You were in the back of the truck, looking at the documents that weren't too impressive. It was stuff you already knew. Alien artifacts were located in different parts of the world. Nothing new. Still, you decided to take pictures of it with your phone. You needed more time to read them, maybe they contained something you didn't know.

Nonetheless, you knew that wherever these documents were heading was going to be more interesting. So you decided to leave the truck keys in the front seat with the hope that the men wouldn't even question how they got there.

You were right. It was too easy to predict men.

You were heading to somewhere unknown, miles away from your new home and somehow it felt more liberating. Could you be killed by the government for doing this? Probably. But then again you've survived worse and you have nothing left to lose.

You hid and didn't make any sound. It's probably been around two hours of driving.

Everything was going smoothly.

Until the truck came to a complete stop. You almost hit your head as you lost balance.

Then, the vehicle moved uncontrollably as you heard the sound of a missile impacting it. You recognized the sound, you'd heard it before. Countless times while reporting the wars.

You did not only hit your head but other parts of your body as the truck rolled multiple times through the dry desert.

You were dizzy but still managed to hold onto the box. You saw the two soldiers come out of the truck, holding guns. Next, you heard shots.

You heard heavy steps. The type that made the ground tremble.

You came out of the truck, not caring anymore if the military men saw you. Curiosity was always your weakness and you needed to know what made a five-ton truck flip like a coin.

You held into the box like your life depended on it. Stepping into the fuel that was leaking from the truck. You saw the soldiers, helplessly shoot bullets to that thing.

A thing.

That's the best way you could describe it.

Made of metal. 20 ... No, 30 feet tall. Robot. Silver and grey. Red. Sharp ends. With missiles and guns at its disposal.

You stared at it with awe. It was good to know that you weren't crazy, that you were right. On the other hand, you don't know if you will live long enough to tell the world about it.

The enormous metal creature pointed at you with one of its missiles.

"You, give me that box."

It spoke.

You knew that aliens must have their ways of communication but speaking perfect English was something you didn't imagine.

"I won't ask again ... Give me that box."

He wanted the documents. You didn't know why nor wanted to find out. It didn't take much for you to realize that you indeed had important information. So much that an alien came looking for it. But your body didn't respond. It was your first time seeing something out of this world. In the dark night and the starry sky of Nevada, you suddenly felt so little. So insignificant and the realization made your body unable to move.

Then, there was light.

That of metal clashing. Of the little chemical reaction when two metals collide.

Another creature. Bigger and taller. Stronger. Red and blue and silver.  Punching in the face the creature that was threatening you. They engaged in a battle too fierce to be in front of.

Your attention was drawn towards the men who lay on the floor unconscious. The soldiers must have been knocked out during the intrication. Dropping the box, you ran towards them as the two creatures fought against each other.

You thought your ears would explode from each impact, from each crash. You checked their pulses, they were breathing, but you knew you were too weak to move them, especially with uniforms on.

"Give me that box."

You ran towards the box, falling in the way as the ground trembled. You have to think fast. Two titanic robots, fighting. The first one spoke to you, demanding the box. The second one came in to fight.

Who was good? Who was bad? You weren't sure. You only knew one thing.

This box was important. It's content at least. You weren't a hero but you knew this was bigger than you. Maybe the information gave the robots a way to conquer the Earth. Regardless, you couldn't afford to think about it too much.

The box was made out of carton. For such an important thing, it sure wasn't guarded safely. But this was the United States Government, you didn't expect much. It was already covered with fuel from the leaking truck.

People say smoking cigs is bad. Well, at least you always carry a lighter with you.

The aliens keep fighting. You thought of them as aliens because you couldn't describe them better than that. They weren't green and skinny, nothing like you imagined. They were more like giant robot aliens. Aliens that had guns and that each bullet was so loud that you felt your entire body shake within.

You dropped the lighter on top of the box and it immediately caught on fire. You ran as fast as you could away from it, as you knew that the fuel would travel to its place of origin, the truck.

The truck explodes, and you use your body to cover the bodies of the still-unconscious men.

"NO!"

You hear one of the creatures scream. Both creatures had their attention on the truck on fire. However, the silver one took a step back and in a blink of an eye, he transformed into a jet. It flew away and it went away just as fast.

You couldn't even afford the time to be in shock.

The red and blue creature slowly came towards you. It kneels in front of you and its face is covered by what you consider to be a battle mask but somehow, it made it disappear. Its face moves closer and closer, observing you, moving in ways that are not human. Yet, you didn't feel threatened, it's as if it was amused with your presence.

Suddenly, you hear whimpering and grunts of pain. One of the soldiers was waking up.

"Did ... Did we win?"

.

.

.

"She wants to talk to you, Prime."

It wasn't like Optimus was waiting around because he didn't trust Agent Fowler's procedures. It was mostly because Ratchet was having difficulty opening up the groundbridge again.

"She's actually a very prestigious reporter ... before she started ranting about aliens, I mean she was right, but you know what I mean."

The whole area was guarded in a 100-meter diameter, not another human would enter without Fowler knowing. A few helicopters had arrived at the battle scene, fastly constructing tents. One is for the medics to treat the injured soldiers, and the other is for you, for a questionnaire. Everything was quickly contained.

"Why don't you take her for a ride and convince her to sign the confidentiality papers? ... I hate to use brute force on women."

He sees you walk out of the pre-made tent. You had a small blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Optimus sometimes forgets how delicate humans can be. The nights in the Nevada desert can be extremely cold and deadly for a small organism like you.

He looked at Fowler and the agent wasn't budging. He was waiting for him to take the next step.

Optimus vents heavily and transforms himself into his human-based design. A semi-truck with 18 wheels. He slowly drove towards you and when he got close enough, he opened the pilot door as an invitation to go inside.

You seemed hesitant but ultimately you walked towards him and got inside the truck. He closed the door for you and drove off into the distance.

.

.

.

You couldn't keep your hands to yourself. You touched the steering wheel, the windows, the seats, the radio buttons, the stick shift. Everything looked and felt like it belonged in a regular truck. Yet, it did not feel inanimate. It all feels somehow alive. You were quiet, literally, inside a robotic alien.

"I do not wish to be rude, but would you be kind enough to stop touching me?"

The alien spoke to you.

"Oh, forgive me, does it hurt?"

The truck stays quiet. But you can feel that the hot air coming out of his vents becomes hotter for a few seconds.

"My name is Optimus Prime from the Planet Cybertron. I am-"

"The leader of the Autobots? And you are in a war against the Decepticons?"

Silence. It was even comical to you. The bot was probably tired and the last thing he wanted to do was deal with a pesky human. Not like you cared much.

"Yes," he simply responds. From this point forward, you knew that this is how most of your conversations with him would go. Short and straight to the point. You'll easily find common ground with him.

"Fowler gave me the rundown of things."

"Then I must ask ... why are you hesitant to sign the confidentiality contract?"

You didn't know where he was taking you. You thought that he is probably driving for the sake of it. He is a truck, after all, he must enjoy the drive. But the night is dark and everything around you made it eery.

"I am a reporter ... If I sign that contract my career is over. Can't talk about the government ever again," you weren't completely lying. "And I just happen to love exposing corruption."

"I know."

"You know?"

"I've seen a few of your works,' Optimus said, making a small pause. His voice is very pleasant, nothing like you expected from a robotic alien. "You speak of truth."

"It's the only way you can fight a war without violence," you try to be vague without giving out too much information. You can't trust someone you just met, especially not someone from another planet.

"And maybe the only way to win one."

"What do you wish for? What would make you sign the contract?"

"The truth," you said. "I want the truth."

"I will sign the contract under one condition," talking was one of your strengths. You let out one important fact, leaving you vulnerable. It was a risk but you needed to create the illusion that there was trust.

"I have the information that was in the box, stored in my personal phone. If you let me accompany you in retrieving these ancient items, I will sign those contracts without complaining."

Suddenly, Optimus comes to a slow stop. The middle of nowhere in Nevada's desert. Just a couple of mountains, some big rocks, and cactus. And of course, a clear night sky.

You see that the bot had locked the doors. You mentally curse yourself. Did he have some type of power that could read through you? You should probably have done better research before lying.

"Why do you want to venture yourself in such matters?"

It was your time to shine.

"No matter how much I try, the truth is not enough to fix my world. At least it won't happen during my lifetime," you say words that your old self would say. Maybe a small and tiny part of you still believed in it.

"I heard your world is not even habitable because of the war. Even after that, the Autobots and the Decepticons won't stop fighting."

"I was just taught a quick rundown of everything so I am sure there's still much to learn but," you think carefully about what you are going to say. It's cheesy and cringe but you could only hope that this robotic alien is a fool and can't see your human nature of deceiving others.

"By learning and telling the truth, you can build the base of a new future for your planet. I can't fix my world but I want to help fix yours."

There was no reaction from him. You started to get worried as seconds turned into minutes. He wasn't stupid either. He was testing you to see if you would break or say something suspicious.

"I'll allow you to accompany us during our expeditions if there are no risks."

You were about to let out a heavy sigh of relief but you stopped yourself. For all he knows, there was nothing to worry about since you were not lying.

"But you will be under my surveillance," he adds as he starts to drive once again. "Starscream has seen your face, we can't afford for you to be alone for long periods of time."

That's going to make your work a bit more complicated but you had to do everything in your power to get your old life back.

"It's a deal then."

Optimus makes a sharp turn, instantly making you fall from your sit. He wasn't the most delicate. He probably didn't even measure his own strength.

"We'll start immediately."

"Immediately?" you rubbed your head, surprised he didn't even apologize. He probably doesn't care or Cybertronians have different manners. There's much to learn. "Well, as long as I am back for work on Monday it should be fine. But can we leave tomorrow morning? I want to go home and rest."

You felt the hot air from his vents coming out stronger than before for a few seconds. You assumed this was his way of sighing, with much disappointment.

He didn't say much after that and you just waited until he spoke to ask you for directions. .

.

.

You were renting a small home in the suburbs. You weren't sure if semi-trucks were allowed but one night should be fine. Prime wouldn't fit in your garage but the driveway gave him enough space.

Optimus opened his door for you and you jumped out. Stretching your legs felt nice, it was a bit chilly outside but nothing compared to the coldness of the desert. Turning to look at the Autobot, you wonder what you could say.

"Do you need anything?"

Did he drink water? Or oil? Did he need a bath? Did he even bathe?

"No."

His voice interrupted your thoughts.

"Alright then, if you need something, let me know," you said, trying your best to get some conversation going. "We are leaving as soon as the sun comes out."

He doesn't say a word. You didn't blame him, it was too much to expect him to trust you just after a couple of hours of knowing each other, and it's not like you could blame him. You wouldn't trust yourself either.

"Goodnight."

He doesn't reply.

.

.

.

"I'll return in two days. I am on a special mission to seek for a Cybertronian relic. I was assigned to work with a human. I am unsure if the subject can be trusted. I'll keep the human away from the base until I conclude their trustworthiness. I'll explain more later. Do not worry."

Arcee, Bulkhead and Bumblebee looked at the message on the data screen as Ratchet read Optimus's message out loud.

"Seems like he had an interesting patrol night," Arcee said as she looked at Optimus' vitals on the screen. They looked normal. "Shouldn't we go with him?"

"If Optimus needs backup, he will ask for it," Ratchet also keeps looking at Optimus' vital signs. There weren't any abnormalities, nothing that would require him to come to the base. "Besides it's not like we can go to him even if we wanted to. I am still trying to fix the groundbridge."

This wouldn't be the first time Optimus would be assigned a solo mission by Agent Fowler. Everyone knows that as the leader, Optimus has to be on constant missions, taking jobs that are too dangerous. Not because he didn't trust the abilities of his team-mates but because he didn't want to risk the spark of the others.

"It's better if we stay here in case we find an energon mine."

.

.

.

You did not dare to write your findings on the laptop. You weren't stupid. You knew very well that the wifi and your laptop must be rigged by the government by now. Watching and revising every search.

Instead, you opted for doing it the old way. Writing today's events on a notebook and little by little, fill it up with more information and most importantly, evidence.

You could already imagine it. Getting your job back. Being recognized as the best reporter of all time. The one who exposed the government and told the world about the existence of alien life. You will be set for life. You won't be a simple reporter anymore. No. Maybe, you'll become the CEO of CNF. Or even better, have your own news station.

That's if the government doesn't kill you before. You have to be extremely careful.

You look outside your window and see Optimus Prime. Agent Fowler didn't tell you much. Just that's he is a sentient being, with a strong sense of justice. Leader of the Autobots, a group of soldiers who fought against the Decepticons to gain control of their home planet.

Oh, how much you hated soldiers. Whether they were fighting for a good cause or not, it didn't matter to you. They all had blood on their hands. They all were guilty. Especially leaders who make others fight their useless war.

But your hatred won't get Optimus to trust you and you need to get as much information from him as possible.

You sigh. You were new here as well so you have a lot of boxes lying around. Nonetheless, you remember seeing an old tarpaulin in the garage, probably from the previous renter.

You look out the window again. It shouldn't hurt to try.

.

.

.

Optimus finished texting to Agent Fowler. A simple text that explained the current situation and his next steps.

It had been a long night. He thought his patrol was going to go as smoothly as others before. But nothing turns out as he expects it.

He still doesn't know how you convinced him to let you come. It's not like he doesn't know who you are. He has never missed one of your reports. Regardless of everything, all the war, the pain and suffering you've seen, you always ended things on a good note.

It was the kind of thing he needed.

Words he needed to hear.

He is always wary of people. Of anyone in particular that hasn't proven to be worthy of trust.

And you?

He just knew you for a couple of hours. He would be lying to himself if didn't admit his spark glowed for a small moment when he saw you.

Against the lack of his better judgment, he wanted to accept you immediately. To show you the base, for you to meet everyone and become that individual with unbreakable morals that keeps the team together.

A duty bestowed upon him ... that he so wanted to share with someone. He has been carrying it for so long, it has become too difficult to carry it by himself.

Can someone ... Can anyone ... Please, help him?

He feels something on the back of his fifth wheel and suspension.

Optimus doesn't respond, pretending to be in resting mode. However, he is always alert. No matter how tired, he tries to be awake in between sleep cycles in case something happens.

That's how he noticed you approaching him, carrying a large plastic cover bigger than you. Dragging it and carelessly putting it over him.

He is curious but doesn't say anything.

"There you go, big guy."

You patted your hands and you finished covering him up.

"I don't know if you get cold but you can't never be too sure."

He sees you walk away, shivering a little as you enter your home once again.

A part of him wanted to answer your question. But he is left without words. Would you even care to listen to him? Care enough to listen to his long explanation about Cybertronian biology?

He wants to say so much. The archivist in him has so much knowledge to share, yet no one would listen.

"I don't get cold. At least not on these temperatures."

That would be the easy answer. The not-so-boring one.

But if given the time and patience, he could tell you all about the biology of it and the reason for it. About how their bodies were perfectly made to the image of Primus.

And you?

He wonders about the things you could share with him. The things he could learn from you.

You know the land better than him and have experienced things in this world that he has yet to experience ... or maybe never will.

He is so lonely. That's the truth of it all. He craves for a connection.

But of course, he won't allow it. Not to himself. Not ever.

At least, under the starry night, covered by a dirty tarpaulin, he can pretend that his worries no longer exist. As his only worry is the ache of his spark wondering if the stranger in the house could become what he needs.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Ch.2: >>>

https://www.tumblr.com/t-a-a-1/767425691778203648/the-darkest-hour?source=share

[v88sy]

There are some blogs optimistic about Tommy back at some point, what are your thoughts about it?

I don't want to get too optimistic, because that's how we got ourselves here in the first place. Let's be honest. This was always a possibility and was even laid out as a possibility in the articles/interviews, we just chose to get too high on the hope. We were treating it as a sure thing and that was never the case. We duped ourselves a little on this one, and yes, I'm absolutely including myself.

Now, as many have pointed out (which I absolutely agree with) if you were to be completely oblivious about the articles and/or what they said, the breakup very much looks like it's open ended. It looks like something that's unresolved or meant to be resolved at a later date. They made it something that could be resolved. Something like moving away or wanting completely different things in life is a lot harder to work through and more definative. They clearly both want to be with each other. Tommy said he wanted to be Buck's last. He said he wouldn't be able to deal with the (what he thought was inevitable) heartbreak. You only get hurt that deep when you lose something you wanted that bad.

This is honestly the first time we ever heard Buck even utter the words "engaged" or "married" to any of his SOs. I do think it's something he wanted down the road, I just don't think he was there yet, and that's absolutely fine. The relationship was still very new. There was clearly a lot they didn't know about each other yet.

It was far too soon to make the commitment of moving in, and Tommy was just trying to stop things from getting any further before he got too deep (too late, me thinks.)

If you remove the clear bias of the journalists writing these "exit interviews" (is that even a thing in television?) they start to sound much like your run of the mill interview they do with every main after they have a major storyline play out on screen. Look at the direct quotes, not what the journalists are inferring for themselves.

All that being said, I'm not getting my hopes up, and I'm not planning on watching live again until I have a definite as to where the storyline is going, and if that takes until the final episode ever, so be it. I will get back to it eventually. Until then, I'll be keeping tabs on what's going on through Tumblr.

Now, this is just a little thought in my brain that has absolutely nothing to back it up whatsoever. I think maybe either Lou needed this break to get away from the bs and finish his role on SWAT, or they gave it to him and he's taking it.

We know he was surprised, but what he was surprised about was how soon it happened. Tells me that at least a temporary break was planned, just not until further down. Or maybe he only meant the disagreement.

We very much know Tim likes to plan out his story about 5 seconds in advance, there could be a tentative plan to maybe bring Tommy back down the road, say, after the midseason hiatus. Could even be the "project that may or may not be happening" that Lou had mentioned.

Buck is my favorite character, but I'm not interested in seeing him regress or go through the same storyline for the millionth time. If he doesn't at least try and fight for Tommy or talk things out with him, it's just more of the same season 5 Buck. I love 99% of the other characters too, but they also suffer from the Groundhog's Day writing and I'm just old and tired.

[rfxiii]

Can u do one where Trevor and fem reader r in a hot tub together and things get spicy? 🥵🌶️ had this idea for a while now!!

(ty for the request! I absolutely loved this idea, so I hope you like how I wrote it!)

TW: Smut

Word Count: 2821

Trevor Philips and fem!s/o in a hot tub:

This could get you both in so much trouble.

You should have known better than to mention something like this, even offhandedly, to someone like Trevor. It was your own private fantasy, something you’d never thought you’d get to act on, until tonight.

Nearly a week ago you’d seen a commercial on Trevor’s staticky old television advertising some upscale new hotel in Los Santos. You weren’t normally one for the fancy, fast paced lifestyle of the city, but once you’d watched the ad showcasing the hotel's state of the art pool room, complete with a large hot tub, you couldn’t help but perk up a bit. And of course, Trevor had noticed.

He’d nagged you mercilessly about your reaction after that. He had picked on you about your “fancy taste”, he’d asked if you wanted to stay a night there despite how badly he would have hated it. It wasn’t until he’d begun to spiral down a rabbit hole, thinking that maybe you were unhappy with your rural situation out in Sandy Shores, that you’d finally confessed to what had caught your attention.

That damned hot tub.

He’d been confused at first. It was just a large bathtub with jets. Right? He didn’t get what the big deal was. You had a bathtub at your house, so why didn’t you just go home and use the one you already owned? It didn’t make any sense to him. At least, it hadn’t, until you’d broken down and further explained your private little fantasy.

You wanted him to fuck you in that hot tub, more than anything.

And that confession had quickly changed his tune.

Which is how you found yourself here. It’s not the fancy hotel from the tv, but to Trevor any hot tub he got to fuck you in would do just fine. And conveniently enough, he knew just the place for the two of you to act out your little fantasy.

“You’re sure he’s gone for the weekend, right?” you whisper to Trevor softly, eyes darting around in the dark as you wait to be caught.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah! Don’t worry about it, sweet cheeks. He left yesterday. The house is totally empty!” Trevor replies confidently, striding ahead of you across the opulent, stone tiled, backyard.

You’d been to Michael’s house a few times- a beautiful, expensive property that you and Trevor had no business breaking into. But once he had his mind set to something, Trevor was an unstoppable force. And after assuring you that Michael and his family were away on vacation for the weekend, he’d insisted that this would be the perfect spot- private, with no one to bother you no matter what you both got up to. And you couldn’t argue that he was wrong.

You come to a stop at the edge of the large pool, the underwater lights casting an almost ethereal glow around the backyard. And connected right to the pool, set aglow by the lights reflecting in the pool, is the hot tub. It’s large, and clean, with the hot water bubbling quietly as it’s expelled from the jets. And you can already feel your mind wandering to the things you and Trevor could do out here, uninterrupted without fear of being disturbed.

“So, good enough for you, sugar?” he teases, a smirk on his lips that sends a jolt of anticipation directly between your thighs.

You bite back a scoff, feeling more than on the spot now that you’re actually here. And so, before you have a chance to think too hard about this and back out, you begin to undress. You’ve never really had occasion to go swimming; Trevor does his best to avoid the beaches of Los Santos- and Los Santos altogether, and you certainly weren’t going swimming in the waters at Sandy Shores. So, without the proper attire, you’d opted for a pair of underwear and a sports bra instead.

You kick your shoes off by the edge of the pool, shimming out of your shorts and pulling your thin tank top over your head, tossing it aside to join the pile of your other clothes. It’s then that you feel Trevor’s predatory gaze already locked on you. His wild eyes rake across your body without restraint before just a hint of dissatisfaction flashes in his eyes.

“You’re wearing clothes still?” Trevor’s question sounds incredulous. And frankly, the way he’s looking at your last remaining bits of clothes makes it seem like he’s almost offended by them.

You fumble for an answer. You know this was your idea, you know why you’re here, but starting off the night by stripping naked to get into Michael’s hot tub felt far too presumptuous still. “I- Well, I didn’t have anything else to wear, so-“

He’s still fully clothed, and it feels unfair of him to be nagging you. But then he closes the distance between you with long strides, stepping in until he’s pressed flush against your nearly naked body. “So? Why’re you wearing anything at all, sugar? It’ll just get in the way.”

You can feel his hot breath against your cheek, and you swear you just felt the outline of his hard cock pressing to your hip through his jeans. And just that brief contact is enough to have you forgetting why you were so anxious in the first place.

Your lips press to the tight muscles of his neck, and your fingers wander down his chest until they connect with the hem of his stained tee shirt. He chokes on a smug chuckle when your teeth nip gently at his throat, and when you push the fabric of his shirt up his chest, he helps you pull it over his head and toss it aside to join your pile of clothes.

His lips find yours in an aggressive kiss seconds later, his hands groping and grabbing to touch every bit of exposed skin he can reach. In the fumble to touch each other you somehow manage to unbutton his pants, which he gracelessly shoves down his narrow hips. And by the time he pulls away from your damp, abused lips, he’s kicking off his boots and now stands in front of you completely naked.

He’s fully hard, his tip flushed dark red and leaking. All of this just from the kissing and anticipation. If you’d ever been insecure before, the way Trevor always reacts so instantly to you is enough to push any uncertain thoughts from your mind.

He catches your gaze locked between his thighs, and a sly, yellowed smirk grows on his lips. His hands grip your waist possessively, slipping down into your underwear and against your ass to push the fabric off your hips and to the ground. His thigh finds its way between your legs, pressing firmly and watching you squirm against him while he works your sports bra up and over your head until you’re just as naked as him.

“Now that’s.. much better. Don’t ya think, sweetheart?” Trevor purrs at you. His hands graze against your skin, his rough palms leaving a trail of warmth against your flesh.

A soft chuckle tumbles past your lips, and you gently take his hand in yours. You lead him toward the hot tub, making a show of swaying your hips and batting your lashes at him until you find yourself at the edge of the water. You dip your toes into the hot tub, finding the water pleasantly warm. And without further hesitation, you pull him along behind you until you’re both sunk into the bubbling heat of the water.

You hear Trevor utter a nearly inaudible sigh, and you’re not surprised. He makes little to no daily effort to take care of himself, and with countless old injuries and constant stress, you’re sure the hot water is doing wonders in relaxing him. Which is exactly what you’d been hoping for.

The calm quiet only lasts a little longer, as most peaceful moments usually did with Trevor. His head lolls toward you, a lazy grin on his lips as he tugs on your wrist, “Come’er,” he mutters, softer than usual.

You’re already pressed up to his side, and it’s not until you watch his dark eyes dart toward his lap that you understand his request. You move carefully in the water, closing the small gap between you both and climbing atop him to straddle his hips. His hands fall instantly to your waist, pulling you closer and pressing hot, open mouthed kisses against your damp chest. Your hands fall to his head, combing your fingers through his thinning hair and holding him closer.

The feeling of Trevor’s lips on your skin is almost soothing, lulling the constant buzz of daily stress into nothing but silence in your head. Suddenly, a gasp lodges itself in your throat when Trevor drags his tongue against one of your nipples. Your back arches at the sensation, pressing your chest closer to Trevor’s devilish lips and tongue. Your gasps and quiet whines escape into the cool night air, and you find yourself unwilling to put forth the effort to muffle them.

You hear Trevor chuckling softly, and feel his lips curve into a smirk against your skin. And then there’s his hands, grasping at your hips and pulling you closer until his hard cock grinds roughly against your clit. A higher pitched whimper forces its way past your lips, startling you a bit before you lose yourself in the pleasure Trevor is so eagerly providing.

“Yeah? That good, sugar?” Trevor snickers against your chest.

You’re seconds away from firing back something sarcastic at him when you feel the rough pinch of his fingers replacing his lips on your nipple. His hips continue to thrust his cock between your thighs, grinding against your sensitive clit. And every sardonic reply you’d concocted for him dies instantly on your tongue.

Trevor’s breathing picks up, and you feel his jagged nails biting harder into your hip. This feels amazing, but you want more. And if you don’t stop him soon and get to the point, you know he’ll finish just like this.

Your grasp at his wrist, trying to stay the hand he’s using to toy with your nipple. Your words tremble, and you have to fight back a moan tickling at the back of your throat, but finally you manage to gasp out your request. “T,-.. Trevor, please.. Don’t- don’t cum yet. I need you to fuck me, please.”

You find yourself shamelessly begging. He’s always had a way of making you crave him, but like this, finally fulfilling the fantasy you’d had running through your thoughts, you almost can’t contain your excitement. And he loves to see you desperate for him like this. He’s never hid his desire for you, after all.

An almost relieved grin graces Trevor’s lips, his eyes wide and full of unbridled yearning to be as deep inside you as he can get. “Fuck yes. That's a good girl!” he praises through a choked moan, “why don’t you let Uncle T make your dreams come true tonight, sugar tits?”

The line is almost comically bad, but you’re too caught up in the anticipation to even give it a giggle. And his acceptance to give you the pleasure you so desperately crave has you frantic to receive it.

His split nails dig harshly into your soft skin, lifting you right where he needs you. You feel the press of his hard cock against you, and it takes everything you have not to sink down on him in one fluid motion. You let him lead this time, realizing the dominant role seems to be appealing to him tonight. And despite how badly you need him, you don’t rush him further. You need the build up just as badly as you need him inside you.

His fingers stroke your clit in rough, jerky motions; his touch is always erratic, but you’ve grown to love the way his irregular movements push you to the edge. His hips twitches up into you, pressing the thick head of his cock inside your needy cunt. He’s not especially long, but he is thick, and the stretch of him entering you forces an unrestrained moan past your lips. His fingers still rub at you haphazardly, and when you arch against him he takes the opportunity to trail his tongue against your nipple. And with another firm thrust of his hips, he bottoms out inside you.

Trevor lets out a pitchy whine against your chest, his fingers biting into your skin to ground himself. He’s not going to last long after the build up you’d been engaged in. It feels like the heat of the water, and the excitement of trespassing on someone else’s property, heightens every sense you have. And when he sets an erratic, desperate pace, you find that all you can do is hang on for the ride.

You do your best to meet his thrusts, rolling your hips and bouncing on his cock while the warm water splashes around you both. Your fingers tangle in his thin, damp hair, pulling him up into a desperate kiss that you only break to cry out for him.

“Fuuuck, that’s it, sugar!” Trevor groans, his voice trembling as he already grows close to his end, “so fuckin’ good! This is the best fuckin’ idea you’ve ever had!”

His pace grows haphazard and almost violent, his nails biting into the skin of your hip while his free hand gives all its attention to your clit. Between the water and the pleasure, you feel like you’re on fire, and his frantic thrusts are only making you that much hotter; you’re not going to last much longer either.

“Trevor! M’ close, please!” you find yourself begging, writhing on his lap for just the little bit of extra friction you need to push you over the edge.

Trevor chuckles breathlessly at your desperate display, his lips curled back into a yellowed smirk. He’s smug but very clearly holding himself back from finishing before you get a chance to cum. His chest is heaving, his skin is slick with sweat and water, and his hips jerk and twitch into you with no rhyme or rhythm. “Then fuckin’ cum for me, sweetheart,” he orders, before leaning in and suckling roughly at one of your nipples, giving you the final push over the edge.

You’re here alone, there’s no one to disturb, and you make no effort to suppress your screams of pleasure. You cum around his cock, clenching tight while you yank almost painfully on his hair. And the pain, paired with the sounds you make for him, has Trevor spilling his release deep inside you, warming your insides with the same heat as the water on your skin.

You both finally still with heaving gasps; the exertion and warm water leaving you dizzy, boneless and flushed. You cling to him, with his face still pressed to your damp breasts. Trevor pulls out of you slowly, muffling an overstimulated groan as he slips from inside your still twitching cunt. And then he pulls away from your chest and looks at you with those chocolate, puppy dog eyes and gives you the biggest grin.

“That..was fuckin’ amazing. Holy shit!” Trevor snickers, pulling you closer again and nuzzling into your bare chest.

You let out an exhausted sigh, melting into him and holding him close. “Y-yeah, it was,” you giggle softly.

“Everything ya hoped for, sugar?” he teases, peppering messy, wet kisses across your skin between low chuckles.

You relax atop him with the warm, bubbling water soothing the burning in your muscles, “It was so much better, baby,” you grin, shooting a glance at the house behind you, “Michael should stay gone on vacation longer. I’d love to do this again.”

“Actually, about that,” Trevor starts tentatively, “we should probably, uhh-“

Before Trevor fumbles out the finish of his sentence, you find yourself nearly blinded as the outdoor flood lights flicker on and brighten the backyard like daylight. You jump in shock, blinking hard to focus with the additional light. And not but a moment later, the large back doors swing open where you’re both greeted by Michael, standing in only his underwear, looking confused and irritated.

“Trevor!?” Michael shouts across the yard, his cheeks flushing red in annoyance, and embarrassment at your state of undress, “what the fuck are you doing in my hot tub?!”

“Well, sugar,” Trevor snickers with a manic grin splitting his lips, “it sounds like that’s our cue to get the fuck outta here!”

You quickly snag your discarded clothes, stumbling with Trevor to frantically dress, a scowl of disbelief plastered firmly on your face, “Trevor, you’re the fucking worst!”

“I love you too, sweet cheeks!” Trevor cackles, ignoring your fury, and Michael’s, while he takes your hand and hauls you off across the lawn.

[khunyuki]

"I've lived my life with blade and you always in my mind"

ɪɴᴛʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ: 𝙰. 𝚃𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖

Synopsis: Kagami was given an option she didn't want and she felt like going crazy. After all, the pressure and expectations that keeps crushing her already messed up her mind and health. So she decided that she's going to be selfish for once.

Pairing/s: Soshiro Hoshina x Fiancee!OC

Notes: This part is just the introduction with the OC's background and way of thinking so there aren't any moments between them yet. Still, this is quite heavy and all over the place just like her mind.

Warning/s: Depression, bullying, somehow eating disorder, anxiety, abuse, mentions of cheating

Genre: Angst

Masterlist: TOC, Next

The Hoshina clan of swordsmen has always been active in kaiju-killing since its origins, with its current members serving in the Defense Force or being close to it. The Hoshinas have been cultivating their personal blade style, this still being used by the family members on the battlefield against kaiju.

The Uzui clan of ninjas has always been active in assisting the Hoshina clan from the shadows, with a only few of its members serving the Defence Force and the rest being assigned as bodyguards for important people. The Uzuis had been cultivating their personal blade style, however, only select individuals can manage to fully exhibit its potential, thus encouraging its family members to focus on their technical skills in weaponry.

With the decline of the Uzui clan's prowess, the clan head has decided to engage his only daughter to the youngest son of the Hoshina clan. This is not only to honor the long-time friendship between both clans but also to keep their reputation.

=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=

"The members of the Third Division that managed to subjugate the kaiju are all being met with roaring applause from the civilians! Um... I repeat, the kaiju that appeared today has been subjugated. Everyone within the danger zone, please continue to watch out for auxiliary kaiju. I repeat..."

The sound from the television delivering the news about today's kaiju subjugation could instantly be heard as soon as one walks in the cafeteria.

Uzui Kagami stops moving and watches the news. The segment was already ending but she could still catch a glimpse of the members of the Third Division before it completely disappeared.

"As expected of Captain Ashiro, she could kill a level 6 kaiju by herself with such ease."

"You idiot, of course she could! She probably could even solo a level 9 kaiju with how strong she is."

Ashiro Mina, the Captain of the Third Division which has a rivalry with Kagami's division, the First Division. Despite being known as the strongest division of the Defense Force, famous even overseas for its exceptional power, majority of them still admire her, just like the rest of Japan. Cause who wouldn't admire such a brave and charismatic woman who doesn't hesitate in saving people and eliminating kaijus.

Kagami, herself, admires Ashiro Mina and consider her as a great role model. Though she feels even more inadequate when compared, there wasn't even a use to comparing in the first place. Captain Ashiro would definitely come to the top.

"Compared to Captain Ashiro who's naturally strong, I wonder how that person become a Platoon Leader with how weak she is." Just as she thought of that, Officer#1 did it.

"Shhh dont talk so loud or she might hear you. Though it's true that she's weak." Officer#2 supported his claims, chuckling a bit. Were they talking about her?

"With how many strong officers here, choosing her amongst us all is a like making the wrong decision ever." Officer#3 further exaggerated. Yes, they were.

Well, they weren't wrong. Each officer belonging to the First Division is estimated to have a released force of 40% or higher thus making them stronger than Platoon Leader class. Furthermore, each Platoon Leader within the First Division has the potential to become a captain. For a Platoon Leader, Kagami's released force is at 43% making her a part of the bottom tier of the rankings. It truly is a wonder how she got in this position, she doesn't know it herself.

"The three of you! Extra training starting this afternoon until tonight for disrespecting your superior!"

While she was pondering over her thoughts, neglecting to touch her food, she was brought back to reality by her fellow Platoon Leader, Shinonome Rin's loud voice.

"C-calm down, Rin-chan. It's alright. They didn't say anything wrong so let's not make a big deal out of this, okay?"

The sudden attention they were attracting was a bit too much for her heart. Why would her friend suddenly act like this?

"It's because you're like this that you're being disrespected! It is an even greater disrespect to the people who placed you in that position to question their decision!"

"I-i understand. Look, I'll even train them on your behalf. Let's just finish eating for now, hm?"

Scared, Kagami tried to compromise in order to finish it faster so that the attention could move away from them.

"Just make sure you don't half-ass it or else..."

"I promise."

With that, things have finally settled and they once again resumed their meal. Other than the fact that Kagami had already lost her appetite and had been forcing herself to finish her food without showing signs that she's forcing it, it was fine.

.

.

Being truthful to her promise, she welcomed the three officers who badmouthed her earlier to the training room right after lunch.

"I know you guys have a lot to say so you can let out all of your complaints during this training. However, I wouldn't hold back since I made a promise to Platoon Leader Shinonome not to do so. Well then, I wish you good luck."

The beginning of the afternoon started with screams and shouts until it turned to grunts and silence as soon as it turned night.

.

"Alright, we're all done with the training. Good job everyone for keeping up! I'll be heading out first so make sure to patch up, have dinner, take a bath, then rest, okay~"

Uzui Kagami left the training room as if she didn't just leave a stack of corpses... I mean a stack of exhausted officers behind.

"Who said Platoon Leader Uzui was weak again? She's practically a stamina monster not even letting us rest for a bit." Officer#2 groans.

"It was Officer#1. Comparing her with Captain Ashiro thus bringing up the topic." Officer#3 blamed Officer#1 for starting it.

"Don't blame this on me! You talked shit about her too! And how was I supposed to know that her innate strength is even stronger than the released power of the suits could give?" Officer#1 almost cried.

"Let's not underestimate her ever again" they all agreed.

"She's truly so kind, not only did she defend us from Platoon Leader Shinonome, she even told us to take care still even after we insulted her behind her back like that" she wasn't defending you, she just doesn't want attention to herself😤

.

They all collectively agreed that Platoon Leader Uzui Kagami was an angel amidst the devils of the First Division. Oh how guilty they felt when they insulted such a person. They finally realized why her squadron was so overprotective of her.

If only the person intended to hear their words remained a second longer, she would've heard it. If only she didn't just listen to all the negative things being said to her but also the good things like the compliments and praises her division, mainly her squadron, sings for her. Then maybe she wouldn't have made that decision.

=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=

The next day, it was finally her long awaited day off but this time she wasn't looking forward to it at all. Usually she would be happy having the day all to herself, however, today just wasn't it because it's a day full of with misery for her. She would usually fall asleep with a heavy heart but last night, she didn't get to sleep at all due to the mix of insomnia, overthinking, regrets, anxiety, self-deprication, and just whatever bad thoughts that keeps you up at night. It was a sign, a premonition that today would be one of the worst days of her life.

.

.

Early morning, she headed to the Uzui family's estate. If only time could stop, she even wishes for a kaiju to appear though she immediately regretted it due to guilt of wishing deaths to hundreds of lives of people. She just didn't want to go there as much as possible.

The Uzui family estate's main branch is a humongous traditional Japanese household maintained through various generations. It is said that her favorite ancestor gained this mansion from his master as a reward for his excellent feats back in Taisho era. A flamboyant shinobi who greatly contributed in killing kaijus since, along with his three wives and children, after suffering from a career-ending injury, lived in harmony. If only the same thing could be said in today's time.

Today, a family meeting is being held just like it did every month. She didn't have any choice but to attend as it her duty as the sole heir of the clan head which is something she dreaded the most.

The purpose of the meeting is to talk about the state of the estate, business and etc... In reality, the true purpose of this meeting is to pressure and persuade her to finally quit the force and get married. She's getting older so she needs to bear an heir before accidentally dying on duty.

In the first place, her family was against her joining the Defense Force after her mother's death. As there were no next heir candidate, her safety and wellbeing is more important than not.

The only reason they allowed her to join was because her fiancee, the current Vice Captain of the Third Division of the Defense Force, Hoshina Soshiro persuaded them. Back when they joined, he made a promise to her family that he'll stay by her side and protect her from harm. They placed greater trust in his words than hers so they relented. The only thing they didn't expect was for him to leave her and join the Third Division.

When that happened, they blamed her for not doing anything to stop him. They criticized his actions and how he betrayed their trust so on and so forth. But when he soon got promoted to his current position, they were like a bunch of leeches. Foxes they are for acting like they didn't do anything wrong nor talked behind his back.

Kagami is repulsed to see this side of her family. She knew her family well, after all, she grew up in this household. She was fine with them insulting, ignoring, beating her but she would never allow them to talk bad about her fiancee even if it meant another round of punishment awaits her.

She loves her family, she truly does. But she is also aware that how they kept treating her is wrong but she couldn't do anything about it. They have her on chokehold, shackles on her wrists and ankles. She was granted freedom but she's still chained to this place because she chose to do so.

She wants to preserve her family lineage as that was her responsibility drilled to her since birth. She does want to fulfill their wishes and demands but she couldn't. Just as she has a responsibility to her family, she also has a responsibility to her work and to her fiancee. She doesn't wish to throw any of that away even at the cost of her deteriorating mental health. Yet her family demands that she deem the rest unimportant and ignore their wishes to satisfy their own.

Sometimes she wishes that she was stronger than now. If she continued the act of being the perfect child, maybe she wouldn't be struggling. The failures she'd experienced kept on piling up and it was suffocating her. Her family knows this so they kept shoving it in her face, further bringing her down.

If she was stronger, she could prove it to them that she could do it all without sacrificing her happiness. She could be a proud member of the Defense Force without looking down on herself. She could be Soshiro's wife, something she wished to be ever since she was a child. She could bear his child and bring an heir to this family. But she couldn't.

She is weak and she knows this. The Defense Force doesn't need her. Soshiro doesn't need her. Her family doesn't need her. They only want to use her as a tool to fulfill their greed.

Kagami doesn't know for how long she could keep this up. They kept feeding into her brain thoughts she didn't want to hear, things that aren't real. It happened for so long that she believes it to be true. She was pathetic, useless, incompetent, a waste of space, and that everything that goes wrong was all her fault. And she believes it. Everything is her fault.

She often wonders why she kept struggling like this. She had already accepted for a long time that she had no right to do so yet she still hasn't relented. She blames herself for not giving her family the satisfaction of seeing her break.

The thing is... She felt crazy. Everyday, she's having a mental breakdown. Everyday, she felt like crying and just laying down on her bed. But acknowledging it meant that she's admitting to the people that she's a failure.

She's been an imposter for so long, pretending to be a good person in front of other people that she didn't really know what she is. Was she the useless child her family tells her she is? Was she the perfect person she tries to pretend she is? Was she the kind person she shows her comrades she is? Was she really as reliable a fiancee she thinks she is? Or was she just a recluse who wishes to hide from people? Someone unworthy of being by her fiancee's side? Just what is she?

All she knows at that moment is that she has to smile. Despite the sinking feeling on the stomach, the need to vomit out her system, scratch her skin from anxiety. Act like nothing bothers her. That's what her family taught her. She didn't know. Her mind is a mess. Her thoughts are scattered yet she still had to listen to her family's discussion.

.

"On that note, yesterday, the Third Division of the Defense Force neutralized a kaiju once more. What an amazing feat indeed!"

"Vice Captain Hoshina is truly amazing! Juzo-sama, you must be proud for having such a great son-in-law!"

"Of course, Soshiro is my true pride and joy! I've been waiting for a very long time to welcome him in our family."

.

When they noticed she wasn't replying to their taunts at all, they changed the topic of conversation. Well, of course she wouldn't be able to reply, it's already taking her all to not pass out. She looks at her father when he said that Soshiro was his pride and joy.

She remembered Uzui Juzo, her father telling her she was his pride and joy as a child when her mother was still alive. After she died, he became an entirely different person who blames her for her mother's death despite her not being involved at all. It was an accident during checkup that killed her mother and unborn brother. She wasn't there nor did she do anything that day. Yet she still accepted his wrath for he is her father.

It was fine if she's no longer his pride. It was fine if he punishes her for no reason. It was also fine if he insults her in front of other people when she's there. For as long as he respects her fiancee then she is fine. It's fine.

.

"Speaking of, when will the two of you get married, Kagami-sama?"

Once again, the focus was back to her.

"Soshiro-san is very busy with work and has no plans yet."

"We've already waited for years! Just for how long are you going to make us wait?!"

.

The same old questions. Why do they keep on rushing when they aren't the ones getting married? She respects her fiance's wishes since she knows he's not ready yet.

.

"Maybe the two of them aren't in good terms?"

"Is that true, Kagami?"

Juzo, her father asked her to which she immediately denied, cold sweat trickling on her neck.

"Not at all, father. Soshiro-san and I are in good terms"

He rubbed his beard in thought. They truly were in good terms, at least that's what she thought.

.

"As they say, it isn't about the length of the relationship. Perhaps Soshiro-sama just doesn't want to get married to her"

"I heard Soshiro-sama is in good terms with Captain Ashiro! Oh how great it must be for them both being powerhouses, they're really compatible! Have you seen how close the two of them were during yesterday's subjugation?"

"Even the media kept on saying how good the two of them look together! Meanwhile, Kagami-sama seemed to be closer to her Captain than her own fiance"

Shameless, Kagami thought. These elders kept on saying whatever they want.

.

"Captain Narumi is my superior. Our relationship is strictly professional"

"Is giving another guy a piggyback ride professional though? Just the thought of being touched by another man other than my husband gives me a scare, what more of someone who hasn't married yet?"

"Are you implying that I am cheating on my fiance?"

"I never said that, Kagami-sama! How could you accuse me of such a thing?!"

Pissed off, Kagami could no longer manage her expressions. Her eyebrows were twitching turning into a frown. The smile she kept up from the moment she arrived until now dropped. She loves her family but how could they such a thing?!

.

"That is enough! This meeting had long since steered off course. You are all dismissed. Kagami, stay behind"

Before it turned into a huge fight where Kagami could be punished once more for raising her hand against an elder, her father stopped them. His eyes were closed as he still rubbed his beard, deep in thought. One by one, those nosy elders left not without leaving her a sneer or a smirk. When it was only the two of them, her father opened his eyes.

.

"I will only ask you this once. What is you relationship with the Captain of the First Division?"

"Captain Narumi is just my superior, father. I've... been tasked with looking after him for he is a bit hard to manage"

"Why would a Platoon Leader like you take care of your Captain? Isn't it the Vice Captain's job to do so?"

"Vice Captain Hasegawa is an incredibly busy man who has to manage both of their works as Captain Narumi refuses to do so. It was him who told me to make sure that the captain does his work properly"

"And why is that?"

Kagami didn't know why her father was interrogating her like this. Their relationship is only platonic and strictly professional. Never did it cross her mind to cheat on her fiance with another man. She felt like anything she says will be used against her no matter what words she chooses.

"For he only listens to me..."

Biting her tongue, Kagami didn't know how her father will react. She was sweating buckets and her throat was dry, making it difficult to gulp. It got even dryer when she notices his eyes get sharper.

"Why would he be listening to someone like you?"

Looking down, Kagami felt hurt by how sharp his words were. Someone like her... doesn't even deserve to be heard. Just like how her words kept on entering her father's ear and leaving on the other.

"I don't know father"

.

.

.

"Are you sure you haven't been seducing him?"

Ahhh, there it is. The accusation that she'd been expecting.

"I have not, father. Our relationship is strictly professional. Captain Narumi and I do not have feelings for each other. He is also aware that I am engaged"

"How would you know if he has feelings for you or not? Someone as dumb and useless as you should even be glad that someone likes you, even though I do not see why he would do so"

"..."

"Bring that man here next weekend"

"May I ask why, father?"

"I shall see if he's fit to be the next head of this family"

With widened eyes, Kagami couldn't believe what she's hearing. Was her father implying what she think he is implying?

.

"Father, I have a fiance! Soshiro-san and I have been engaged since we were children! It was you who had decided that from the start so why..?"

"You already said it. You've been engaged since you were children yet until now there had been no progress in your relationship! Not only did you not seduce your own fiance, you have also seduced another man!"

His voice was gradually getting louder and it fills Kagami with fear. Her father never believed in her words, at all. He had already decided that she cheated when she did not.

"Consider your engagement to the Hoshina's void! Forget honoring our promise to each other when my own daughter have already shamed me over and over!"

"Father, please! Soshiro-san is my fiance! We've been engaged since we were children! He is all that I have so please do not take him away from me! Hoshina Soshiro is the one that I love not any other man!"

Kagami crawled over to where her father is and clung to his clothes. Her father tried to pry her of him as he tries to leave but her grip was so strong. This can't happen. She can't let this happen.

"You can take everything away from me, just not Soshiro! Please! I'd rather let you kill me than let him leave me, father!"

She begged her father with tears falling from her eyes. She doesn't know what to do. Only letting her instincts do the work as she's already shut down from feeling anything. And her instincts are telling her to hang on, hold on to Soshiro.

"Please... I'll die, father. I will kill myself and bring this clan to ruin if you do so!"

When her tears turned to anger, she looked him in the eyes with such hatred she never thought she could feel. Soshiro is the only person that has been by her side this whole time, who keeps on supporting and encouraging her. She's been lost the whole time yet comes back everytime because he's there. He's her light, her hope, her entire life. She could endure all of the disrespect because he was there.

"You crazy woman! Is this how you treat your father after everything?!"

Using all of his strength, he slapped Kagami causing her to fall down the tatami floor with a loud thud, hitting her head. He stood up and kicked her body away from him, preparing to leave once more.

"You have never once treated me like your own child after mother died! You have never treated me like a human being and never respected my decisions! If you continue to take him away from me then i will truly go crazy and trust me you do not wish to see that"

She no longer clung to him and instead glared at him with much hatred, all the years of abuse coming out of her. Blood trickled down her face and the view made her father take a step back in fear when he looked back. She was filled with so much killing intent that her father almost peed in his hakama.

.

"Y-you... I'll give you one last chance. Leave the Defense Force and marry Soshiro at once. If you fail to do so, then consider your marriage and position in this family gone!"

He pointed his fingers at her and left without hearing her answer. If Kagami was in her right mind, she would never consider such a thing. She'd leave the family and still marry Soshiro but she wasn't. Her entire being is still chained to this family and she's drowning. With them forcing her under the water all the time. But this time, they crossed the line.

She's been running on adrenaline this whole time and once her father left, it all came crushing down on her. She lost her strength and laid on the floor, with her knees clutched to her chest.

Kagami wanted to cry. But tears were no longer coming out. She felt empty and broken. She should be used to this. Having everything taken away from her. She's been expecting them to take Soshiro away too but never expect herself to act like that.

She just want to see Soshiro.

<- Table of Contents Next ->

[kittykittyb1mb0]

The wild dream I had last night that I woke up soaked to

I had met you before, one of my brothers friend's dad's l. You invited ne over to your house and I assumed ut was something to do with my brothers friend.

I knock on the roof to the house and you let me in, your wearing swim shorts and no shirt, your still in good shape even though your well into your 50s

"Hey how are you? Drink?"

You say and I accept, the first sip burned my thought and I coughed abit, you apologise for how strong u had made ut but I jeep drinking it any way.

You ask me if I want to go for a swim and I accept, although I do t have a bathing suit

"Just wear your underwear, or skinny dip" you say

At first I laugh until I realised your serious, it made me wet thinking about newing completely naked around you, were still stood in the kitchen when I start to take my clothes off, I can feel your eyes scan my not as I see you link your lips

You say nothing as we walk outside, making sure I go first so you can watch my ass jiggle as I walk.

We get outside and I finish the drink you make me, slightly dizzy from the drink I walk into the pool, you follow me quickly and put a hand on my bare waist

"You whore completely nude in my pool, your enjoying this ain't you?"

He puller me closer towards him, my pussy twitched in anticipation. Whore. It made me wet, just the word, you somehow know this

"Whore, whore, whore, whore a dirty little whore who I'm going to ruin"

He picked me up and I wrapped my legs around his waist, giving him a clear view of my tits and pussy, you carry me out of the pool and chuck me on the bed tying my arm and legs to each post, I dont struggle or resist, you say nothing and put the television on.

I'm completely naked spread on the bed and you put the most filthiest porn you can find on the big television and leave the room turning the volume up so all I could hear where the moans of the girls in the videos. You only occasionally come in to force some more Alcohol down my throat.

My pussy is so desperate to be touched, my thighs and the vet wre covered in my juices after an hour and a half of no touching and watching straight porn, I try anything to get to my pussy buy the restraints are to tight.

You come in and I immediately start to beg you to touch me you just laugh at me and strap a vibrator to me and turn it on full power, the pleasure rips through me and suddenly it stops

"I was just checking ut was working whore"

And you walk away again, not even coming into the room just turning the vibrator on for a few seconds every few minutes. I'm so overstimulated all I want is to ne fuck and filled with cum.

You walk back in wearing nothing, your cock is fully hard, I negotiate and plead for you to use me and breed me full of cum. Your cock pulses you put a finger inside my hole,

"Such a good little whore for daddy so wet already"

You lowered your head vetween my spread legs and slowly licked at my stolen overstimulated clit before penetrating my tight whole with your pulsing cock.

I moaned loudly and came right then and there

"Fucking slut, Cummings already all over daddy's cock, you can cum as often as you want slut, but I won't stop no matter how hard you beg"

You fuck me hard and fast, I cum to many times to count moaning your name, as I get cock drunk, you had fucked so many loads of cum into my pussy to breed me like the slut I am that you got board, switching netween my mouth and pussy i was so cock drunk that I didn't even realise my face, tits and pussy were drowning in your thick creamy cum.

You got up leaving me tied to the bed my brain all fucked out leaving me all covered in cum.

"I'll be back slut, I might even bring some friends next time"

[siremasterlawrence]

Dad…Broadcasting…. Station

The door slid open with low cracking sound is emitting as the lights flip on showering the room, the air swoops in cooling the heating that kept this place under the radar from any agency, and I finally walk in to the white light of my area swinging the chair to the side as I sit down and face the massive screen. Pressing a button the machine roars on at a height as bursting of light covers the area entirety of the console lighting it up as the screen turns on, I type in a new code as the screen creates a pattern sending a gigantic signal in to the sky hitting every station on the know earth.The signal lands on one radio station in the city in particular as the signal sending mind shocking the crew as their radio signal from my machine blasts loudly causing the crew to go in to mindless state and soon enough the radio station changes name after the last signal it is now Dads…Broadcasting Station as they mindlessly plays the first song shaking him out of control causing him to stir. Two dads in particular are guys you would call my next door neighbors living two and three doors from me are driving to work as Hollywood mangers on the highway the last song plays and the signal become a heavy static station suddenly a new name for the station is listed and they begin to play a new song causing the car to stop rolling his eyes as his head begin to shaking them to the fore they park the car and exit on to the street with a car arriving to pick them up. Downstairs in another house miles away in the same city vicinity the television switches on with a black and white signal sending a huge unshakeable stir as he made love to his wife his body rolls under the sheets as he cums and he stops mid sentence fully freezing as his mind completely rewiring to me as the volume level rises filling the room up to the brim invading his ear canals and twisting him. Across the street another man quickly gets dress as he looks out the window to see if his wife is home yet, the lights are off he smirks putting on the shirt as he stares at the woman he is currently having an affair with, and her radio pops open hitting him head on as he stops cold the women stood up feeling him up and trying to get her any of his attention. On a television network nighttime talk show two dads are guest as the audience held on by a Hypnotic spiral keeping him check to serve me with no question as the sound signal of the radio hits the host and the guest leaving us unraveling because I am in absolute control and I watch as their own realities fall apart because all three men on their own regard.

“Audience meet my Master”

“Master Lawrence “

“Relax everyone! “

“Kneel at my feet”

“All the dads will obey “

“You will understand your place“

“At my feet”

“Submit and obey “

“Repeat”

“Submit and obey “

“Yes”

the end