#the way i NEED to be tag-teamed by these two

[astonmartinii]

other side of the moon - chapter three | formula one imagine

chapter three: home away from home

pairing: fem retired formula one driver reader x ??? fem retired formula one driver reader x platonic!kimi antonelli

back in monaco for the first time after the crash, y/n reckons with ghosts from the past and the uncertain future.

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR | PART ONE | PART TWO

despite the hefty price tag of the cat carrier, brando looks less than impressed. y/n continued to try and coax him in with a treat but the cat was suspicious to say the least.

“please get in the carrier brando,” she waved the treat in his face again, “we’re going to see max! you love max and you don’t mind kimi, yeah? remember them? we just have a short 16 hour drive because your lordship doesn’t like planes so can we please get in the carrier?”

brando bit into the treat and slowly made his way into the carrier looking sorry for himself. the biggest and final chore was now done with minimal guilt, she would take that. y/n wasn’t moving to monaco - no, she prided herself on being one of the only drivers to not make that jump, but she also didn’t exactly know when she was coming back.

there was less than a month until car launches and tests and max insisted on hosting some team-bonding sessions for her and kimi. it was probably just an excuse to see her before she is ‘tainted by mercedes’, but y/n found herself excited to see the dutchman again.

the suitcases were by the door and the plants had been watered, it was now or never. crossing the boundary of her front door, it dawned on y/n that her life was changing again. there wasn’t quite the excitement she had leading up to her first race in formula one, but she could feel the butterflies threatening to return.

the door clicked shut and the next phase started. in the lobby of her building, y/n approached the front desk.

“hi frank,” y/n said to the concierge, “i’m going away for a little while so could you keep all of my mail together for me?”

the older man smiled up at her. frank had been working at this building since y/n first moved in. he had tried to hide that he was a formula one fan but wasn’t quite successful. he had stuttered when she had turned up one evening, cap low on her head and oversized sunglasses despite the darkness.

“miss y/ln, would you like me to help you with your bags?”

y/n had frozen when frank said her name. frank had taken his hat off, trying to sort out the salt and pepper freckled hair on his head.

“i’m so sorry miss y/ln, that was unprofessional of me. as you now know, i am aware of who you are, i hope this does not make you uncomfortable. we will do anything you need to be comfortable here.”

y/n had also taken off her hat and looked frank in the eye. she deemed him sincere and allowed herself two minutes of respite from her burning anger. “no worries,” she looks down at his name tag, “frank. i would love some help, maybe on a better day i can sign something for you? other than these bags, i’d really love if this being my home was just something we keep between us.”

frank mock saluted and started grabbing bags.

“you won’t be gone forever will you, miss y/ln?” frank asked, pulling y/n back. the older man looked uncharacteristically worried.

“and miss our scintillating conversations? i would never! i assume you’ve heard i’ve taken the job with kimi? i’m going to do some ‘team-bonding’ with him in monaco and then i’ll be back”

frank took one of her suitcases, helping her to the garage.

“monaco you say? you wouldn’t be staying with the handsome dutchman by any chance,” frank said, raising an eyebrow in question.

“i might be?” y/n opened the door of her pink cadillac, “was it you who let him and kimi up without my permission, frank?”

“guilty as charged ma’am, but they were there with good purpose so i just had to”

frank continued loading the car with her suitcases, opening the back door and securing brando’s carrier in place.

“he also gave me a signed pair of race gloves, sorry!”

y/n exclaimed as she shut the door of the car. “i knew he was bribing you! but yes, i guess i am glad you let them up - for now.”

frank pulled y/n in for a hug. she let it linger before clearing her throat and pulling back.

“i know i’m just an old man, but it’s nice to see you excited about something again. you came to me three years ago a broken girl with a constant face like thunder,” frank pinched her cheek, “but here you are, ready to conquer the world again. i am proud of you. but don’t get too lost in your new role to not see what’s right in front of you.”

y/n was confused. frank continued, “the crash took a lot from you, but it did not make you unloveable. give people a chance.”

the older man stepped back and gave her a wave.

“make sure you make enough stops and get some sleep, it’s a long drive to monaco. say hi to max for me.”

frank turned and made his way back into the building. y/n sighed and climbed into her car. the pink cadillac was hardly subtle but she had banished all of her other cars to a different garage three years again so it would simply have to do.

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yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, kimiantonelli and 11,304,788 others

yourusername: sixteen hour road trip ahead of us, i hope brando is ready to get real acquainted with taylor swift's discography

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user1: she’s so cute

user2: it’s the pink caddy!!!

user3: y/n is back in formula one and is driving the pink cadillac - never kill yourself

charles_leclerc: okay miss active on instagram

yourusername: had to come back and steal all the likes from you obviously

charles_leclerc: oh yes please remind me how you still have double the followers i do when you haven’t posted in three years?

yourusername: idk sounds like you have a skill issue to me

charles_leclerc: sixteen hours and you’re back on my stomping ground… watch it missy

yourusername: i will watch

yourusername: because i know you and you will grovel

charles_leclerc: maybe…

charles_leclerc: i’ve missed you, sue me!

yourusername: i just might!

charles_leclerc: wait-!

user4: all these reunions are making me sappy

user5: i’m stuck on the fact that y/n is driving all the way to monaco?

yourusername: brando doesn’t like flying 😕

user6: oh to be a high maintenance cat of a rich person

maxverstappen1: jimmy and sassy are eagerly awaiting your arrival

yourusername: awwww i’ve missed them

maxverstappen1: i was talking to brando…

yourusername: rightttttt

maxverstappen1: but i am eagerly awaiting your arrival

yourusername: as you should be

maxverstappen1: i stocked up on all your weird english biscuits and everything

yourusername: you’re too precious

user7: oh to have a bond like theirs

user8: i fear it’s a trauma bond

user9: it’s still cute!

kimiantonelli: can’t wait to get started miss y/ln

yourusername: please call me y/n kimi you’re making me feel so old

kimiantonelli: oki

kimiantonelli: miss y/ln what kind of pasta do you like

kimiantonelli: *y/n what kind of pasta do you like

olliebearman: you are such a failure omg

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the road was quiet, with taylor swift’s voice filling the silence. y/n had exhausted the conversation with brando, who was tuckered out in the backseat. by now the pair we deep into france, y/n had stopped being able to translate the road signs many miles ago.

the thought of returning to monaco was daunting. there would be ghosts around every corner and memories that y/n wasn’t sure she was ready to confront. y/n wasn’t even sure which drivers even lived in the principality any more - however, she knew that her former teammate did.

lando norris was a bit of an enigma in y/n’s life. there were early growing pains in their friendship? work relationship? but as the 2021 season rolled around, she thought they had finally been ironed out. the gap was slim, but lando had outscored her in 2020, so his ego was still intact and that made him a little more enjoyable to be around.

y/n wasn’t sure who or what had pushed lando over the edge of accepting her as a teammate and not just a mere annoyance, but january 2021 was night and day from her rookie season. y/n had a sneaking suspicion that lando had been subject of some heated PR meetings over the christmas break, but as long as she wasn’t in them, she didn’t really care.

suddenly there was a shift in the atmosphere. lando spoke to her outside of meetings, in between video takes and checked in over the breaks. suddenly lando knew the name of her friends, where she had gone on holiday and her favourite food. y/n didn’t think much of it at the time. but then came everything else.

july 2021.

y/n didn’t tend to spend long on social media, why open herself up to the opinions of stupid people just because they were loud? one morning, a sunny one in monaco, y/n received a flurry of texts from her trainer luca. ripped from her yoga session on max’s balcony, y/n checked her texts.

luca: is there other strenuous activities i need to be aware of?

luca: tiktok.com/userlandonorris/reposts

luca: if this is a thing, should jon and i coordinate training plans?

huh?

y/n clicked the link and was taken to lando’s tiktok page. she felt like an old woman trying to navigate the app but finally found the reposts. the first few she saw were edits of herself? and then a couple talking about “finally being understood by that person” and some other more charged in nature.

what the fuck. there wasn’t a normal day in this team it seemed. y/n pulled back the door and went to find max. the dutchman was tucked into bed, still sore from silverstone just two weeks earlier.

“have you seen this shit?” y/n said, shoving her phone in max’s face, “i mean what does this even mean? 69? i didn’t even know lando could count that high?”

“i think he’s referencing sex, y/n”

“i know he’s referencing sex idiot! why is he referencing having sex with me?!”

“i don’t know, you’re the dumbass who joined that team - he’s probably trying to like get you on side after the shit he pulled in austria and is doing it in classic dumbass lando fashion.”

austria had been eventful. both lando and y/n had somewhat slow starts to the season, with just one podium to their names by the time they pulled up to the red bull ring. the two papaya cars lined up fourth and fifth on the grid, with y/n managing to edge in front of her teammate, which meant the two were subjected to the word teamwork 72 times in a 45 minute meeting (y/n had counted).

when the lights went out, y/n got the jump on the ferrari of sainz ahead of her, wrestling her way past the spaniard and up into third. with cleaner air, max had already wrangled a healthy three second gap back to her and was hunting down lewis, so she focused on keeping the prancing horse behind her. as they approached the steep incline, carlos jerked out to the right and tried his luck up the inside. the spaniard was heavy on his brakes, burning up his tyres as he missed the apex and shunted his front wing into y/n’s front right tyre.

the contact didn’t manage to cause a puncture or any terminal body damage, but the push had made way for carlos, lando and charles to slide past her as she strained to keep her mclaren from going into the gravel trap.

“what the hell was that?” y/n asked down the radio, keeping her eyes focused on charles’ ferrari down the road. “do i have any damage?”

“no damage that we can see. hang back for a couple of laps, the ferraris are eating their tyres and will fall back to you.” jude, her usually cool race engineer, had a bite to his voice.

taking the corner as tight as she could y/n barked back, “surely he has to give that place back? he forced me off the track?!” y/n was practically vibrating, with anger or from the force on her tyres, she wasn’t sure yet. “just keep your head down, we’ll get back to you,” hugo replied.

the ferrari of charles was getting further and further down the road. “hugo their tyres aren’t falling off, can i hunt them down yet? what about this penalty?” it was like talking to a brick wall as the pit wall didn’t reply. y/n bit down the urge to swear up a storm and put her foot down with renewed vigour.

by the next lap y/n had managed to battle her way into charles’ drs and was priming her tyres for a late move further down the track. charles tried to cut off the slip stream and predict which side y/n might choose, but it wasn’t enough as the mclaren breezed past charles before they even hit the apex.

unbeknownst to y/n the silence from hugo was indicative of the larger argument happening on the pit wall. despite putting massive flatspots on his tyres, lando had yet to make his way past sainz’s ferrari. will, lando’s race engineer, was deep in discussion with him over the radio (which would’ve made quite entertaining viewing for y/n after the fact if it didn’t concern her so deeply).

“lando we are confident that sainz will get a penalty. y/n has cleared charles, we need you to back sainz into y/n so she can overtake. when she does we want you to give the position back.”

and if that wasn’t the sentence that summoned the shitstorm.

“why should i give the position back? i did nothing wrong?”

lando kept his foot down and increased the gap between himself and sainz. will’s voice rang out on the radio again,

“lando. sainz pushed y/n off track and you all gained positions, the right thing to do is to give the position back.”

that was a red flag to a raging lando. he let off a spiel that had made the post-race debrief and all media duties torture for the pair of them.

“carlos did nothing wrong and i did nothing wrong. y/n needs to learn we won’t just let her past like schumacher did. tell her to hurry up if she wants this position back, i won’t give her a podium just because she can’t defend.”

there was silence on the mclaren radio for a few moments. there was even silence on the broadcasts. no one quite knew what to say to that.

y/n had closed in on sainz, hundredths away from being in the spaniard’s drs range. her radio finally crackled back to life, “y/n you have full permission to use your tyres, we aim to pit soon. you are free to race with lando.”

excuse me? on one hand y/n was glad, there had been a couple awkward moments already this season where she had been told to hold position and not fight. however, that was her position, lost through no fault of her own?

“i am free to race? he should give me that position!”

“you are free to race. head down and clear sainz before we discuss again.”

this was bullshit. she knew it, hugo knew it, zak brown knew it, the broadcast team knew it and deep down lando knew it too. sainz was an easy pass for y/n in the end as she pipped him on the start finish straight. lando had a three second advantage which meant that y/n had some free air to cool down her tyres and get ready to fight her teammate. she would be clean but she was finishing on that podium whether he liked it or not.

within two laps y/n had completely dropped sainz and was breathing down the neck of lando. she was within his drs range as they rounded the final corner but before she could launch an attack lando swerved into the pit lane. that was an early stop? y/n quietly thought to herself that it seemed all too convenient that he was called into pit just as she was about to catch him… not that it really bothered her all too much, the over cut was more powerful at austria, so if she kept her good pace, she should come back out in front of her teammate.

many laps later and a late pit stop for y/n, the younger mclaren driver proudly picked up her second podium of the season. she hauled herself out of the car in parc ferme and immediately embraced max who had once again managed to win his quasi home race, catching lewis with ten laps to go.

once she had been weighed, y/n made her way to the interviews, glad to see it would be jenson conducting them - he always gave her nice questions.

“up first we have our third place finisher, the incomparable y/n y/ln! what a stint on those mediums, i thought for a second you were going to go all the way on them!” jenson said with a wide grin.

“thank you jenson! yeah… after the first lap i thought my race was pretty screwed… the fia took their time with carlos’ penalty so i had to regain my positions myself… but i think all in all it was a good race i’m glad to being going into my home race on the high of a podium and i’ll be looking to do even better there!”

jenson smiled at her but started to pick at his nails, a telltale sign he was going to have to ask a question he didn’t want to ask. “not to bring you down after a great race, but i must ask, what do you make of lando’s comments on the radio?”

y/n was puzzled, and her face showed that much. she started stuttering and shrugging. one of the production assistants behind jenson passed her a phone and pressed play. y/n held the phone up to her ear and felt the words rush over her.

“carlos did nothing wrong and i did nothing wrong. y/n needs to learn we won’t just let her past like schumacher did. tell her to hurry up if she wants this position back, i won’t give her a podium just because she can’t defend.”

oh. okay. y/n knew she needed to take a couple breaths before she responded or she would say something she would regret. people would probably forget about lando’s comments by next week but if she said something like that she’d be stuck with the brat label for the rest of her career.

“that’s disappointing for sure to hear. third and fourth is a good result for the team and it ended how it should’ve. we’ll discuss this with the team but for right now i’m going to celebrate my podium and drink some champagne!”

jenson gave her a nod to say she did well and beckoned over lewis. y/n walked back to the side of the podium pen and slid in next to max.

“who the fuck does he think he is saying that? i’m being serious, someones got to knock some sense into him,” max said under his breath, aware cameras were still on them.

“i know, it’s bullshit, but i doubt they’ll say anything severe to him.”

just as y/n was making peace with the fact there would be no severe consequences for lando, her and max turned to see the man himself in the media pen. intrigued, both listened in on his interview.

“it sounds bad on the radio, yes. but i stand by the message, maybe not the delivery. this is formula one and y/n needs to know that you can’t just bat your eyelashes and be let by.” lando’s PR handler cuts the interview there and drags him back towards the mclaren garage, barely concealing her anger on her face.

“well, well, well.”

max groaned from under the blanket he had wrapped over his head, snapping y/n out of it.

“yes he was a massive knob in austria, as per usual, but i don’t understand how implying he’s sleeping with me makes it any better? it makes it look so much worse!”

“can you stop bothering me about it i think you just retriggered my concussion.”

“i don’t think that’s a thing, max,” y/n said and then her phone chimed, “speak of the devil, he’s asked if we can go for some lunch to ‘discuss the season’ whatever the fuck that means”

“good leave me alone”

“we’re going to luigi’s do you want me to get you some carpaccio to go?”

“i actually take it back, i love you - yes.”

y/n refilled his water and got his painkillers from the kitchen before she slipped on her shoes and made her way out of the complex. this is what was confusing about lando. he was more than happy to berate her on the radio but then would set up meetings like this like nothing had happened. usually y/n could write it off as a heat of the moment thing - she had once called mick an ‘incompetent cunt with shit hair’ on the radio so she definitely understood it. but it never stopped there, media duties were the death of lando and y/n was interested to see how he aimed to worm his way out of this one.

luigi’s was surprisingly busy for a tuesday afternoon but y/n spotted lando easily with his big jumper in the july heat. lando didn’t stand up to greet her so y/n just sat down as soon as she got to the table.

“do you know what you want to order?” lando snapped the menu shut and looked over to her.

“i’m doing well lando, thanks for asking,” y/n muttered sarcastically, “i’m just going to get some of the salmon, it’s good here.”

the waiter turned up just as she put the menu down and y/n ordered the salmon, a juice and the carpaccio to go. lando had ordered some chicken salad and a water. once the waiter had left he hissed at y/n, “did you order that on purpose?”

“what?”

“the salmon.”

“are you allergic or?”

“no?”

“then what’s the big deal? i like salmon, it’s good for you.”

“i hate fish. everyone knows i hate fish. i invited you here to sort things out and you’re already starting with the mind games.”

y/n’s mouth fell open. he was actually being serious.

“you know not everything is about you right? salmon is in my meal plan and they cook it nicely here. i don’t think about you in everything i do.”

lando huffed, whispering a ‘that i’m sure of’ to himself. this was so childish, and y/n was very to let lando know that. “do you want to repeat yourself lando? or are you going to continue to be a child?”

lando was taken aback, “me being a child? says you! i wanted to talk this out after silverstone like we planned? you were going to come to see my family and everything. they were so excited to meet you, especially my sisters. but no, you let me, let us down!”

y/n actually laughed in disbelief. “i told you i was sorry about silverstone and i was, but max needed me and in that moment he was who i had to be with.”

“it’s always max, isn’t it?”

“he was airlifted to the hospital lando, i’m sure he would’ve preferred me hang out with your family than have to do that again.”

lando had started to rip apart the napkins, a sign he was desperately trying to regulate himself.

“you always choose him! you choose him then, you only stay at his when you’re in monaco - you’re even picking up food for him on our date!”

“our date? are you kidding me? i’m going to ignore that,” y/n took a sip of water,” and for max? i care about him deeply and he was in hospital after a very dangerous crash!”

“then why don’t you care about me? huh?” lando was getting choked up, “you’ve never been there for me when i’ve crashed?”

now y/n was even more confused. lando had wanted her to be there for him when he had crashed but also couldn’t stand to be around her longer than necessary until this season. this boy was such a headfuck.

“you fucking hated me last season lando. and the way you’re acting here and how you acted in austria don’t really tell me that you like me any more.”

lando huffed and crossed his arms like a child. y/n continued, “this is what i don’t get with you. you can’t stand me all last season, literally refusing to call me by my name, only calling me rookie and running from meetings as soon as you can but now, now! i need to be there for your every need. now you can repost dumb tiktoks and fuel rumours about us?”

“they told me we needed to look closer!”

“so you decided to tell the world we’re fucking?”

“i didn’t say that!”

“you basically did, i saw the reposts. and for your information i would never fuck you in a million years.”

“no, that’s for max only isn’t it?”

“what is you people’s fucking obsession with thinking i am sleeping with someone on the grid? is it that inconceivable that i might be able to exist around my fellow drivers without trying to sleep with them?”

“well you should stop acting like you are then!”

y/n stood up abruptly, scraping the chair across the floor. she hastily grabbed her stuff and slotted her sunglasses back.

“you can send me what i owe for the lunch, i don’t feel like sitting here and being berated because you can’t handle this season. you know who actually has something to be stressed about, the guy actually in the title battle, who is in bed still recovering from a crash. so goodbye lando, i’m going to go take care of my friend who actually cares about me and can talk to me without belittling me.”

she sweeped out of the restaurant, the waiter at the entrance saw her coming and passed her the carpaccio. the heat of monaco was sweltering but the drama between her and her teammate was heating up even more.

present.

y/n was still none the wiser about how she felt about lando, even all these years later. something inside of her wanted to reach out to him, reassure him that he was good enough, especially after how 2024 had panned out, but then the memories of their time together at mclaren come flooding back and she feels content with her silence.

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texts between y/n y/ln (bold) and charles leclerc (italics)

little birdy told me you’re back in monaco

by little birdy i mean your instagram post

omg have you considered a career switch to being a detective?

you’re mean

anyway!

cocktail night at mine tonight

i guess you can bring your losers too

yes that includes ollie before kimi asks

wow that’s a big assumption that i’m going to say yes

drinking on my dime? when have you ever said no?

you have a good point

i’ll be there at 8 - losers in tow

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“we get to go to a cocktail night at charles? oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!”

kimi squealed down the phone to y/n, “hold on let me tell ollie, we’ve got to get ready!”

y/n could hear him shuffling through their shared flat, “it doesn’t start for another like three hours kimi!”

the two boys had started excitedly discussing outfits and which cocktails are the ‘cool’ ones.

“we’ll swing by yours at 7:45, be ready we won’t wait.”

y/n hung up and turned to max smiling, they were so cute. the two of them had been curled up on the couch with the cats for the majority of the afternoon as y/n was catching up on sleep. the brit turned to max,

“oh i forgot to tell you,” max perked up, “guess who came to my apartment after the GQ thing?”

max shrugged, throwing a toy for jimmy.

“lewis.”

“hamilton?”

“yeah!”

max’s eyes sharpened, “why would he be at yours?”

“wouldn’t you know? you’re the one who gave him my address,” y/n replied, trying to make eye contact with max who was avoiding her gaze.

“yeah i thought he was going to send you like condolence flowers or something not show up unannounced?”

both of them had sat up at this point. brando was sat between them, looking between them confused.

“he showed up and complimented my dress. i asked him if he was sad he missed me at mercedes and he like proper leaned in and asked what i could possibly teach him? kissed my hand and left. it was weird.”

y/n laughed as she recounted the story but max wasn’t laughing.

“it’s funny max, you’re meant to laugh.”

max forces out a sarcastic laugh.

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing. i just think it’s weird. food for thought.”

“don’t worry he won’t replace you. you’ll always be my favourite.”

max smiled at that. he piled on top of her, with brando squished in the middle.

“you’ll always stay at mine in monaco right? i’ll always be your best friend on the grid?”

“always,” y/n said, tucking one of max’s hairs behind his ear, “beside where else would i stay? in kimi and ollie’s bachelor pad? i’d rather die”

max let out a laugh and let his head fall on y/n’s chest, her hands immediately tangling in his hair.

“i’m sorry for that. i just love you and our bond, i get jealous that mr seven titles might steal you away.”

“away from you? they’d have to take me kicking and screaming. you’re the only one who had my address, you’re the only one i spoke to in the three years. don’t think i’ll ever not have you first.”

the cocktail party was nearing, but the pair were content to stay tangled on the couch, with a grumpy brando tucked in between them. outside of the apartment, the ghosts of monaco still lingered. maybe it was a good thing charles had a weird obsession with cocktails and his at home bar, y/n could use some liquid courage tonight.

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charles_leclerc

liked by maxverstappen1, pierregasly and 2,304,667 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: it’s been three years and she still can’t mix drinks.

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user1: war is officially over

user2: i hope nothing bad happened between them but it is stuck in my mind that they didn’t talk in the three years

user3: i’m hoping she just flat out wasn’t speaking to anyone but max and charles did nothing bad

user4: his tribute post is still up which others can’t say so

kimiantonelli: i think her drinks are just right!

yourusername: i think we’re gonna work so well together

kimiantonelli: i think so toooooooooo

olliebearman: he’s just really drunk?

yourusername: so he’s not always like this?

olliebearman: loud? not really. but hanging off every word you say? yeah that’s pretty normal

user5: oh how i’ve missed my beautiful wife

user6: lando’s beautiful wife

user7: nuh uh george’s

user8: what about the guy who actually posted it

user9: i actually think you all should kill yourselves!

yourusername: i’m really not that bad you just have bad tolerance

charles_leclerc: i have measuring tools right there and you insist on doing the ‘y/n pour’

yourusername: does the ‘y/n pour’ get the party started or not?

pierregasly: yes because everyone is pissed by 9pm

yourusername: is that not the aim of a party

charles_leclerc: this is a sophisticated soiree - i even bought olives for this

yourusername: oh please

maxverstappen1: i think it would be funnier to watch everyone drunk stumbling around y/n

charles_leclerc: okay well we’d all be a bit more chill if you didn’t gatekeep her for three years

maxverstappen1: don’t care 😛

user10: max is the level of unbothered i need to be right now

user11: he’s on necks even in the off season

user12: so who else is to come?

user13: please please please let the brits be there i need my dose of y/nlando

user14: they're meant to be i swear

user15: oh my sweet summer child

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

fin.

note: enjoy my quick updates while you can i am back at my big girl job tomorrow :((((( but i will try to keep up with this pace where i can!

taglist: @folkloresreputation @hc-dutch @shimmermotorsport @96mcobo @eclipsedcherry @formulaal @czennieszn @gothicwidowsworld @emily-b @suns3treading @henna006 @kazgirl20 @anotherapollokid @littlegrapejuice @daemyratwst @annimausi @yawn-zi @lulu-1998 @xsilkesworld @justaf1girl @daddyslittlevillain @evans-dejong @abq654 @elizamoe133 @wierdflowerpower @t1nkerbel1 @okcurran @raizelchrysanderoctavius @skepvids @multilovebot @fernandoalonso14 @jules-kup-172 @m4xgirlie @rorabelle15 @minkyungseokie @formula1-motogpfan @peterholland04 @miureiz @freyathehuntress @lighttsoutlewis @aleatorio1234 @chaosandevelyn

[windixie]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ out of touch ♱ soccer player! gojo x alt! reader pt.1

summary : gojo is the university's most popular boy and soccer player. he can get any girl he wanted to warm up his bed, so why did he catch feelings for the girl who looks like she just woke up out of a coffin?

warnings ☠︎︎ this will contain smut throughout the story. reader is implied to have a smaller chest! gojo is an asshole :( so angst, profanity, insecurities, p in v, creampie, comfort, fluff, slight breeding kink, light choking, jealousy, ill prob add to the list as the story progresses!

word count : 1.03k

let me know if you want to be added to the tag list !!

you knew gojo. hell, everyone knew gojo. annoying, loud, obnoxious, ah should I go on? that's how you described the so called star player on the soccer team. his ego reached all the way towards the clouds by how much he was admired in the community. you on the other hand, not so much. sure you were known by many but not in such a positive way. you were intelligent sure, but the way you dressed wasn't entirely accepted. you were always getting bothered by other students, one of them being no other than satoru gojo. although, it seems that you two have grown into a friendship lately.

"hey pretty" you heard an awfully familiar voice come up behind you. the white haired boy was still in his blue and white soccer jersey covered in grass stains and some of his sweat from his practice that he just came from. you gave him one of your small sweet smiles."hi gojo" you mumbled back.

he looked down at your figure. the pretty black blouse fit you so perfect as well as those mini grey jean shorts that cupped your ass so deliciously. gojo took notice of you wearing your earbuds which he took one of them and placed it in his ear. "whatcha listening to?" you faced him slightly annoyed as you looked at how his face scrunched up in disgust.

"seriously? how can your ears support all that screaming?" he grimaced as he heard the loud singing.

he let out a chuckle at that before his eyes lit up as he realized something. reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a piece of paper handing it to you. you blamed the shot of arousal that traveled towards you as you took notice of how veiny his arms were. you glanced down to see it was a ticket. a ticket to his upcoming soccer game, to be exact.

your eyebrows picked up as you turned to him. "you want me to go to your game?" the question made the blue eyed boy nod. "want you there on the stands baby, if you can, then I promise to play even better than I usually do." you were shocked to say the least. the satoru gojo inviting you to his game personally even after countless months of relentless bullying was not something you could see coming.

but you couldn't help yourself from nodding. "yeah sure ill be there!" the feeling of your heart beating against your chest brought a scary but not unwelcome feeling. You stared at him for a moment, unsure if you were hearing things correctly. The blue-eyed boy, a walking angel blessed by God himself, smirked down at you with a flicker of something you couldn’t quite place. It wasn't the usual cocky smirk. It was different—something warmer, maybe? Or maybe you were just imagining it.

"I'd like that."

"great, ill see you tomorrow after school then?" he asked in which you let out an mhm in return. "okay pretty, try and get some sleep. you need some just by judging off your eye bags" he teased. "shut up!"

you watched the taller boy walk off. his use of the sweet and loving names made you feel a little awkward, but you shoved it down. You had a feeling that this was just another one of his ways of throwing you off. It wasn’t like he was being sweet. Not Gojo. He never was.

As you walked off to the other side of where the dormitories where taking note on how the night was now awakening due to time change. as you reached for your AirPods case to put back your earbuds your fingers stopped on your left ear. your earbud was missing.

gojo didn't take notice of the music cutting off. he was in a completely different world thinking about none other than you. he didn't understand how he caught feelings. no matter how many times he reminded himself it was you and how he could do some much better that that. he only gave you to ticket to his game only to be nice, is what he told himself. a friendly gesture friends do all the time!

"yo Satoru!" one of his friends called out to him. gojo turned to look at the boy with long black hair and big ass gauges walking up to him along with some other boys from the team. a smile crept up on his face dabbing them all up. "hey you all did well at practice today"

"yeah man that's what we came to say as well but we saw you talking to that emo freak uh whats her name, y/n?" this made gojo slightly embarrassed on how they caught him. "don't tell me you hitting on that emo pussy, it can't be that good" one of the other teammates chuckled making the white haired boy slightly uncomfortable.

"nah man, too busy with uraume" Geto patted his back "good good, lets keep it that way. she's got a better body anyways. let me burrow her sometime yeah?" the blacked hair boy received a nudge at that making him chuckle.

you looked around you trying to find the taller boy to retrieve your airpod. sighing in relief as you saw him. "gojo!" you called out making the boys turn around.

"ah she came back for round two?"

you walked up to him. "hey uhm you still have my AirPods." you said pointing to his ear. "give back your friend her AirPods satoru" his friend teased.

"we're barely friends. acquaintance is a better term" he mumbled out. as you received back your airpod, you stopped. eyes widening as you heard what he said. "acquaintance? thought we were-"

"friends?" he cut you off. "cmon I pay attention to you two or three times and now suddenly we're friends?" he scoffed. why was he acting like this? that's right, because he's satoru gojo. you were nowhere as close as him. you never will be. your face turned serious before you reached into you pocket handing him the ticket he gave you. "here, you dropped this" you mumbled.

gojos eyes fell down to the ticket in his hands. his heart broke a bit. "wait.. y/n-"

"forget it" with that you retrieved back to the direction to your dorm fighting back tears as you left the boy stunned.

"looks like you hurt her feelings, gonna go apologize?"

"nah."

© 2025 windixie. All work belongs to windixie . please do not copy, repost, plagiarize, any of my works as your own.

[cybrasigilism]

how dae-ho would act like if he had a crush on reader and how he’d ask them out

this is too cute! i desperately need to write for dae-ho more, he’s just such a sweetheart i fear :>

Crush Headcanons! (Player 388/Kang Dae-ho Headcanons)

warning: no smut! | lowercase intended | not proofread! | these are my headcanons for this character, please be respectful even if my opinions on the character differ from your own :)

character: kang dae-ho (player 388)

A/N: this is a mix of headcanons + drabble but i hope thats alright it’s nice to take a break from smut every now and again :) i’ve got lots of dae-ho in my requests so i’ll try my best to feed you all .3. of course, i hope you enjoy!

   ────  ☽⃝ ────

⟢ the moment he first took notice of you as everyone was getting their photos taken for the games, he was completely starstruck. from that point forward, dae-ho found his eyes being drawn to you wherever you guys were

⟢ he felt a new sense of urgency to make sure you lived throughout these games, after red light green light he made a vow with himself to ensure you were protected at all costs. he was quick to introduce himself post the first game, and you guys were fast friends.

⟢ he’s not the type to be insecure or jealous when he sees you interacting with the other men inbetween games. there was few men you did talk to anyways, seeing as most of them either got on your nerves or intimidated you way too much. however, he did find himself a tiny bit jealous when he saw how easily you got along with the other guys in his group

⟢ you didn’t end up making it on dae-ho’s team for the six legged pentathlon, but he did his best to calm your nerves before the game started up. he promised he would cheer you on and that he definitely did. he definitely lit up when you ran up to him afterwards, going on about how worried you were about him after you left

⟢ he 100% would share his food with you, especially if he noticed you were particularly shaken up after a game

⟢ adding onto the last piece, dae-ho will also definitely try to cheer you up after the games

⟢ i think he would definitely hold off on asking you out, especially during such a high stakes situation as the squid games. at some point later on, when you guys are closer, you two will promise to see more of each other once the games are finished.

⟢ although dae-ho certainly isn’t one to start a fight, he will put himself between you and any unruly players who try to start something with you. he doesn’t have any trouble putting someone in their place if he feels you would be in any sort of danger

⟢ insisted that you slept with his group during lights out, so he could watch over you and be certain on your safety when you were sleeping

⟢ 100% hugs you tightly after the mingle game, especially if you two got separated. you could tell he didn’t want to let you go at this point, as he was definitely worried that you didn’t make it into a group before the time ran out

⟢ will for sure ask you all about your life before the games, and even about what you’ll do with the prize money when you guys get out

────  ☽⃝ ────

apologies for the less headcanons this time around! i saw more opportunities for small drabbles between the headcanons and i had to seize it! i had a lot of fun writing this out, and i hope you guys all had just as much fun reading it! as always any advice/constructive criticism on how i can improve my writing is appreciated and requested

have a splendid day lovelies 💋

tags: @gongyoosgf @agorsnotsworld @kvstjwonnie @marymustdie @pink-apples001 @wonestro @luvlyfandoms @putrescentpoet

[cognitiveoverload]

A temporary goodbye (Front Man / Hwang In-Ho x reader)

summary: The first game is about to begin, and the Front Man needs to talk to his right hand man - who happens to be a little more than that.

tags: secret relationship, established relationship, fem!reader in mind

note: I had this scene in my head and just had to write it.

You’re standing next to the Front Man in the control room in silence, patiently waiting for his orders as always. There’s a lot going on in your head, so it’s not a surprise that you find yourself stealing a glance at him more and more often, because he’s the reason why you’re a little distracted today. This is the first day of the games, and while normally it’s a routine task, this year things are different. Everyone can feel it, but very few know the reason.

“I’ll watch the first game in my room,” he suddenly announces, and before you could react, he walks away. You let out a sigh under your mask, disappointed that you can’t talk to him before he springs into action, but then he calls back, his voice cutting through the silence. “Bunny, with me.”

The mask luckily hides the wide grin that appears on your face upon hearing him say this. You were supposed to have a proper code name, but he decided that Bunny suited you more, which is why you began to use it, and he even got you a bronze rabbit mask that matched his own in style. As usual, you follow him without a question, passing by the staff members who are preparing for the first game.

In his private room, the Front Man sits in the armchair and pours himself a drink, and eventually he takes off his mask too, feeling comfortable and safe enough to let it go temporarily. You can feel your heart beating in your throat as you wait for him to show any sign that he remembers you’re there. Sometimes he gets so lost in his job that you have to remind him of your presence.

But not this time. Now he clears his throat and raises his hand to signal you to go closer. “Say it,” he orders, although his voice is gentle, as it is every time he talks to you. 

Since you’re obedient enough, you pad closer and stop by his side, a small smile creeping on your lips when you look at him. Four years. You’ve been working together for four years, but he only took off his mask around you two years ago. This was his way of showing his trust, something you truly appreciated. 

“Take off the mask, we’re alone.” He finally looks up at you, a faint smirk visible as he watches you follow his order. Once it’s placed on top of his, he sneaks an arm around your waist and pulls you into his lap. “So? What’s on your mind? I can see something’s bothering you.”

Letting out a long sigh, you wrap an arm around his shoulder and lean in to give him a tentative kiss. “Are you sure about this? Joining the game, I mean,” you clarify.

In-ho lets out a quiet, humorless laugh. “You know perfectly well why I’m doing that. But it’s okay, you don’t have to worry,” he assures you as he rests his hand on your thigh, his fingers digging into your skin to ground you. Because he knows you. He knows you’re spiraling, he knows you think something bad will happen, which always kicks your brain into overdrive. 

“If you don’t get out in time, I’ll be stuck babysitting the VIPs,” you say with a pout.

“You’d be fine.” When you give him a sceptical look, he kisses you again, and he even moves his hand closer to your inner thigh. The moment a soft moan escapes your lips, though, he stops. “Since when do you doubt me?” he wonders, his eyes examining your face to see the reaction.

Shaking your head, you rest your forehead against his. “I don’t doubt you, I’m just… Look, I know you can protect yourself, and you thought of everything, but we don’t know what he’s planning. He’s a ticking time bomb in there,” you explain. 

“Keep an eye on the team while I’m in the game. Everything’s supposed to go smoothly, but if something happens… take care of it.” 

You nod without hesitation, after all, that’s why you’re here. That’s why you became his right hand man. What’s happening between you–the stolen moments, the shared life back home when you’re not busy preparing for the next games–is a secret you’re keeping to yourselves. You’re the only ones who should know about it, no one else. It’s personal, and if anyone knew about this connection, they could easily use it against him. 

In the beginning, you tried to resist the pull, you tried to escape his gravitational field, but then In-ho made you understand that it was okay, that you could make this work. He would make sure you can make this work. By now, you’re sure he would go to great lengths to protect you, he would get rid of anyone who ever dared to even look at you the wrong way. 

The moment is ruined when you hear the instructions of the first game, a sign that it has begun. You both turn to the screen to watch it, but his hand is still teasing you, even if it’s nothing more but a subconscious movement. The comfortable silence between you is based on the deep understanding of each other, but you’re a little startled when he speaks up, not bothering to look at you. 

“I love you, Bunny, never forget that,” he says quietly, as if he was telling this to himself. 

A warm smile crawls on your lips. “I love you too.”

[cece693]

May I pretty please request Hannigram with an SO that really likes biting things? Like they’ll just nibble on anything available, including themself or Hanni/Will

male reader if possible :)

Bite Me, Darling

pairing: hannibal lecter and will graham x male reader tags: self soothing mechanism, male reader bites things, Alana bashing, jack Crawford bashing, just everyone in general is against this relationship, innocent male reader, hannibal and will want to keep him this way

It was strange, how everything about him was normal on the surface but wildly unique beneath. The way he moved through life, unaware of the way people stared, was something that only a few people truly understood. Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter, for all their intelligence and their capacity for manipulation, had each found something in him—something pure and raw—that spoke to them in ways they couldn’t articulate.

You were innocent in the most innocent way. You didn’t know how to read people’s intentions, how to navigate the murky waters of deceit and pain that others swam in. You were a creature of quiet habits: chewing on pens, biting the corner of your sleeves, even nibbling your fingers. It wasn’t that you was anxious, but rather that this was your way of processing the world. You didn’t speak much, but when you did, it was with a tenderness that could disarm even the most hardened individuals.

For some, this made you seem almost too innocent for the likes of Will and Hannibal. They were two men who dealt with darkness constantly, who played in shadows. Hannibal, the brilliant psychiatrist with an appetite for blood, had found himself intrigued long before anything happened between them. How did such a pure soul even come to be? How was it that someone as complex as Hannibal could be pulled into a world where biting things wasn’t just a habit—it was part of who you were?

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? Hannibal was nothing if not a man who craved complexity, and you, with your simple yet peculiar habit of biting, had an allure that he could never fully comprehend. He wasn’t sure when the lines had blurred, when you had shifted from being someone he wanted to understand to someone he wanted to possess.

Will, on the other hand, was less of a mystery. He found your unspoken understanding of him soothing. Will was not a man who found comfort easily. He’d had too many years of running from his own mind, of balancing between the need for human connection and the heavy weight of his empathic gifts. But you were different. You never demanded anything from him. There was no need to over explain; no fear of rejection. You were there, and that was enough.

The three of them had fallen into a relationship that no one, especially not Alana Bloom or Jack Crawford, could understand. Jack, upset that you had a greater control over his 'asset' perceived you as a problem that needed to be extinguished immediately. While he couldn't force Will to break up with you, he began to use manipulative language more frequently, hinting that his absence was endangering the lives of people. But after a while, his words began to lose power.

"Will, you can’t just leave because he told you to," Jack would say, his voice thick with frustration. "We need you to solve this case. You're part of this team." But Will, unmoved, always told him he was tired and needed a break—as if killers would respect that and stop murdering until he felt better. Jack would then begin to retort how soft Will was becoming, as if that ever mattered when others perceived him as a madman.

Alana, on the other hand, was driven by something more personal. Jealousy. She had been drawn to both Hannibal and Will. Her feelings for them had never been simple or easy, but she had always harbored a belief that somehow, one day, they would choose her. Instead, they had chosen you. The idea of you, with your gentle biting habit, managing to capture the attention of both men—of all people—was enough to make her skin crawl with resentment. How could someone so abnormal and clearly dealing with childhood trauma have the audacity to step into their world and steal both her love interests?

She couldn’t help but feel that you didn’t deserve them. You weren't like her—you didn’t understand the complexities of their lives nor seemed to be able to handle the hurdles that came with it. And so, she set to work.

It started subtly. A conversation here, a comment there.

“Don’t you ever feel like you’re a little strange?” she would ask, voice light, as if it were a passing thought. “I mean, the biting…it's something you can't help, but don't you ever want to stop it? Be seen as normal for once in your life?"

At first, you had laughed it off, thinking nothing of it. But over time, the seeds of doubt were planted. You began to wonder. Was your habit of biting things wrong? Your lovers had never raised concerns, but it would be something they'll definitely keep private, perhaps a secret only shared between Hannibal and Will. You never thought that Alana's words were connived to break your relationship apart, your naivety something the woman had taken into account and used to her advantage.

So, you tried to stop.

You started small: you tucked your hands into your sleeves when your instincts told you to gnaw at the fabric, and you opted for straws instead of biting the rim of a glass cup. You made an effort—any effort—to keep your teeth away from Will and Hannibal’s skin, no matter how comforting that gentle pressure felt against them. At first, neither man noticed; after all, it was easy to dismiss as a passing mood or an unremarkable change in routine.

But after a couple of days, small signs alerted both of them to the shift. Will began to see you catch yourself mid-motion, your hand halfway to your mouth before you stopped and pressed it flat against your chest instead. Hannibal noticed the anxious flicker in your eyes whenever you realized you were about to bite down on your sleeve—or worse, on him—and yanked yourself away.

It was Will who first chose to address it. One evening, you were curled up in his living room, dogs scattered around you like living blankets. The space was quiet, the only sound the gentle snoring of a dog and the low hum of the overhead light. You were running your thumb over your bottom lip—an almost-bite—when Will finally spoke.

“Hey,” he said softly, “what’s on your mind?”

You hesitated, forcing a small smile. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

He studied you with those empathetic eyes of his. You knew he was reading more into your silence, but Will was nothing if not patient. “You’ve been distant,” he finally ventured, words slow and careful. “I don’t mind if you need space, but if something’s bothering you, I want to help.”

The sincerity in his voice tore at your heart. You wanted to confide in him, to say Alana made me feel wrong, and I don’t want to be wrong for you, but the fear of seeming weak or needy held you back. You simply shook your head and offered a reassuring pat to one of the dogs resting on your lap. “I’m fine,” you lied, hoping he wouldn’t push. “Just tired.”

Hannibal discovered your change in behavior under more intimate circumstances. The two of you were alone in his kitchen, the scent of simmering stock filling the air. He had taken your hand to guide you closer to the cutting board, demonstrating a particular technique for slicing vegetables. Normally, a casual closeness like this was an invitation for you to lean in, maybe press your teeth gently against the back of his hand or the curve of his arm—just enough to ground yourself in his presence. This time, you didn't lean in nor brought his hand to your lips.

Hannibal stilled, eyebrows lifting in polite surprise. “Darling,” he asked softly, “what’s wrong?”

Heat bloomed in your cheeks. You swallowed hard. “Just didn’t want to hurt you,” you offered lamely, though you both knew you had never caused him pain before. His dark eyes narrowed thoughtfully, but he released your hand without comment. You wondered if your face betrayed the unease you felt, because Hannibal’s expression shifted into something gentler, concerned. But he chose not to press you then and there. Instead, he simply carried on, instructing you gently with the knife work and occasionally brushing a reassuring hand across your back.

Though both men tried to give you space, their combined worry spilled over as time went on. Neither was used to seeing you so guarded, especially around them. On a chilly afternoon, the three of you gathered in Hannibal’s study—a routine that had become something of a tradition. Will sipped his whiskey quietly while Hannibal and you browsed through his impressive collection of classical music. There was a soothing air of comfort, and for a brief moment, your doubts dimmed.

But of course, it was Will who noticed your jaw moving—saw the slight shift as your teeth worked the soft flesh inside your cheek. He placed his whiskey glass down on the table with a muted clink before pushing himself out of the chair.

“Stop,” he murmured, crossing the room with purpose. His voice was gentle but firm as he stepped close to you. Without hesitating, he brought his hand to your chin, his touch warm yet insistent. “Open your mouth.”

You stiffened, instinctively pulling away. You shook your head, trying to avert your gaze from Will’s intense blue eyes. You didn’t want to show him. You didn’t want him to see the damage you’d done to keep from biting them instead.

But then, Hannibal appeared at Will’s side, his presence commanding. He didn’t say a word, but the look he gave you—equal parts concern and disappointment—made your shoulders slump in silent surrender. Unable to deny the weight of their worry, you parted your lips, letting Will tilt your chin just enough so both he and Hannibal could peer inside.

A faint gasp escaped Will as he saw the small puncture in your cheek, the fresh bead of crimson welling against your lower molars. Hannibal’s lips flattened into a thin line, and a flicker of displeasure darkened his gaze. In the grand scheme of things, it was a small wound, but it spoke volumes to them—volumes about how you had been coping alone.

Hannibal’s voice was low, edged with concern. “You’ve been hurting yourself to avoid biting us.” It wasn’t a question; it was a quiet statement of fact.

Will let go of your chin carefully. “Why?” he asked, his brows knitting together.

You swallowed thickly, your hand hovering near your mouth in a subconscious attempt to hide the injury you’d just revealed. “Alana said it’s weird. The biting,” you whispered, your voice unsteady. “I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

A stretch of silence followed your confession, Hannibal and Will exchanged a look—a silent conversation filled with understanding and mild anger toward Alana’s interference. Will’s gaze softened as he turned back to you. “We told you before,” he reminded you gently, “you don’t have to hide this from us. You’re not hurting us—”

“—nor inconveniencing us,” Hannibal interrupted, stepping closer again. The resolute calm in his eyes steadied you. “In fact, we’ve grown quite accustomed to it, and dare I say, fond of it. Your habit is part of who you are.”

You glanced down, feeling the sting of tears threatening in your eyes. “I just…I didn’t want you to get sick of me, or to think I was some sort of burden.”

Will’s hand found yours, his fingers threading through with a gentle squeeze. “That’s not possible,” he murmured. “We miss it…miss you being comfortable around us.”

Hannibal placed a hand against your cheek, being mindful of your tender injury. “You never need to hurt yourself on our behalf,” he said, voice quiet but unyielding. “Any pain you feel—physical or otherwise—we’d much rather help you carry it, not watch you bury it inside.”

At those words, a sharp wave of relief pulsed through you, along with an ache of regret for having doubted them. You inhaled shakily, letting yourself lean just a fraction closer to Hannibal’s touch, feeling the stability it offered. Will eased his other hand around your waist, tugging you gently in his direction. Sandwiched between them, you could almost believe nothing else mattered.

“I’m sorry,” you managed, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall. “I…I’ll try not to hide it anymore.”

Will’s lips quirked into a small, comforting smile. “No more chewing on your cheek,” he said, voice warm with affection. “You’ll let us help, right?”

With a hesitant nod, you felt Hannibal’s hand slide from your cheek to the back of your head, urging you closer until your forehead rested against his shoulder. He cast a glance at Will, who leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your temple. Despite the swirl of emotions, you felt a gentle calm in their presence—a sense of being anchored.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Chapter 2: Caught on Camera

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: none

Fandom: Women's basketball

Paring: Paige Bueckers x ! Photographer fem reader

Summary: is this thing still on?... I hope not....

Welcome to chapter 2 of Through The Lens. I hope you all enjoy and there is more to come...stay tuned my loveies!! 🏀💕📸... if you wanna be added to the tag list let me know!

Avoidance was becoming a bad habit of mine. After the incident with Paige and my shattered camera turned into an internet meme, I couldn’t bring myself to face her—or the team, for that matter. Every social media platform I opened featured the clip: Paige’s epic block, the ball ricocheting, and the destruction of my beloved camera. People had even started adding exaggerated sound effects and captions like, "When life hits you hard…literally."

To make matters worse, Paige addressed the incident during a post-game interview, her sheepish smile making me squirm every time I replayed it in my mind.

“It was an accident,” she had said, laughing softly. “I feel really bad about it. Y/N’s an amazing photographer, and I hope I haven’t scared her off for good.”

Her words made my chest ache, but I still avoided the team practices. I stuck to photographing games with my new camera, keeping my distance from the players—especially Paige.

That’s where KK came in.

“Y/N, you can’t avoid us forever,” KK said, sliding into the seat beside me in class one afternoon. Her tone was light, but there was a hint of mischief in her eyes that I didn’t trust.

“I’m not avoiding anyone,” I replied defensively, keeping my gaze on my notes.

“Right,” KK said with a smirk. “That’s why you haven’t shown up to practice all week.”

I sighed, slumping in my chair. “It’s just… easier this way.”

KK rolled her eyes. “You know Paige feels terrible, right? She keeps asking about you.”

My stomach flipped, but I quickly pushed the thought aside. “I’m fine. She doesn’t have to worry about me.”

KK didn’t say anything for a moment, and I thought I’d won the argument—until she spoke again, her voice casual.

“Hey, can you stop by the gym tonight? Coach wants to see some of the practice shots you’ve taken for the project.”

I frowned, suspicious. “Coach? Why would he need to see them now?”

KK shrugged, her expression unreadable. “I don’t make the rules. Just swing by, okay?”

That’s how I found myself at the gym later that evening, camera in hand. The space was eerily quiet, the faint hum of the overhead lights the only sound as I stepped inside.

“Coach?” I called out, my voice echoing.

Instead of Coach, Paige emerged from the shadows, her expression a mix of surprise and apprehension.

“Y/N,” she said, her voice soft.

I froze, my grip tightening on my camera. “Paige? What are you doing here?”

Before she could answer, the gym doors slammed shut behind me, and I turned to see KK waving through the glass window with a wide grin.

“You two need to talk,” KK shouted, her voice muffled by the door. “I’ll let you out in the morning!”

“KK!” I yelled, rushing to the door, but it was locked tight.

Paige let out a small laugh, drawing my attention back to her. “Well, I guess we’re stuck together.”

After a few minutes of awkward silence, I excused myself to the bathroom, needing a moment to collect my thoughts. When I returned, Paige was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the court, my camera in her hands.

“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

Paige glanced up at me, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I figured I’d record something for you. An apology, I guess.”

Before I could respond, she pressed a button, and the red recording light blinked off—at least, I thought it did.

“Can we talk?” Paige asked, setting the camera aside.

I hesitated before nodding, taking a seat across from her.

“I’m sorry,” she began, her voice sincere. “About your camera, about everything. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“I know,” I said quietly, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. “It’s just… hard. That camera meant a lot to me, and now everyone’s laughing about it like it’s some big joke.”

Paige’s expression softened, and she scooted closer, her knee brushing against mine. “I get it. I’d hate being the center of a meme, too. But you’re more than that clip, Y/N. Your work is incredible, and I’ve seen the way you capture the game—like you see things the rest of us miss.”

Her words made my chest tighten, and I looked away, feeling vulnerable under her gaze.

“Thanks,” I murmured, my voice barely audible.

Paige reached out, her hand resting lightly on mine. “I mean it. You’re amazing.”

I glanced up, meeting her eyes, and for a moment, the world seemed

to fade away. Her gaze was steady and warm, filled with an honesty that made my heart stutter.

“Paige…” I started, but my voice faltered.

She gave me a small, lopsided smile, her fingers brushing over mine. “I know I messed up, but I want to make it right. Not just with the camera—but with you. Can we… start over?”

I hesitated, the weight of everything between us making it hard to breathe. But then I saw the earnestness in her expression, the vulnerability she rarely let show.

“Okay,” I said softly, nodding. “We can start over.”

A small laugh escaped her, almost a sigh of relief. “Good. Because I really don’t want you avoiding me anymore.”

“I wasn’t avoiding you,” I lied, though we both knew the truth.

She smirked, leaning back slightly. “Right. You just conveniently disappeared every time I was around?”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. “Fine, maybe I was avoiding you. But only because I didn’t know how to face you after everything.”

“Well,” Paige said, tilting her head, “now you’re stuck with me until KK decides to let us out. So, no more avoiding.”

I chuckled, the tension between us easing slightly. “Guess I don’t have a choice.”

We spent the next few hours talking—about basketball, photography, school, and everything in between. Paige was easy to talk to, her laugh infectious and her stories captivating. For the first time in weeks, I felt at ease.

At some point, exhaustion caught up to us, and we ended up lying on the court, our heads close together as we stared up at the ceiling.

“Do you ever think about what’s next?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Paige turned her head to look at me, her expression thoughtful. “All the time. The WNBA feels so close, but at the same time, I’m scared of what it means to leave everything here behind.”

I nodded, understanding her fear. “Change is scary. But you’ll do amazing—you always do.”

Her gaze lingered on me, a soft smile playing on her lips. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” I replied, my words steady.

We fell into a comfortable silence, and before I knew it, I drifted off, the warmth of Paige’s presence lulling me to sleep.

The next morning, I woke to the sound of muffled laughter. Blinking against the light, I realized Paige and I were still lying on the court, her arm draped over me in a way that felt impossibly natural.

“What do we have here?” KK’s voice rang out, teasing and triumphant.

I sat up quickly, my face burning as I saw KK and Azzi standing near the gym doors, their grins wide and mischievous.

“Did you two have a good night?” Azzi asked, raising an eyebrow.

Paige groaned, rubbing her eyes as she sat up. “Seriously, KK? Was this really necessary?”

KK shrugged, clearly unbothered. “Hey, you two needed to work things out. Mission accomplished, right?”

I glanced at Paige, my embarrassment fading slightly as she gave me a small, knowing smile.

“Yeah,” she said, her tone light but sincere. “Mission accomplished.”

As we stood to leave, I grabbed my camera from where it had been resting on the sidelines. A sinking feeling hit me when I noticed the recording light still blinking.

“Oh my God,” I muttered, quickly stopping the recording.

Paige looked over, her eyes widening as realization dawned. “Wait… was that on the whole time?”

I nodded, mortified.

KK burst out laughing. “Guess we’re gonna have some very interesting footage to review!”

Paige and I exchanged a look, equal parts embarrassed and amused. Maybe this wasn’t the worst way to start over after all.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

Tag list: @sayurireidotcom , @astroeliza .... (more to be added)

[sshadow-heartz]

I Love You, I’m Sorry

���Squid Game C.AI bots here!

🤍Cho Sang-Woo x Player!Reader

🤍With one more game to go, Sang-Woo doesn’t like your odds. He loves you enough to know that you don’t need to continue suffering, taking things into his own hands…

🤍Word Count: 1.2k

🤍Tags: Angst, Murder, Slight Gore?, Glass Shard as murder weapon, Stabbing,False Hope, Betrayal

•masterlist

‼️If you are sensitive to the tagged topics, please keep scrolling!‼️

It had been a long day. After a dangerous game of glass stepping stones, you had watched player after player fall to their death. Only three of you remained - Sang-Woo, Gi-Hun and yourself.

Retreating to your bed, you looked up at the ceiling, the large piggy bank sending a soft, golden glow over the room. It had to be almost over, right? There were only three of you left, surely there were no more than two games to go.

You sighed, thinking of everything you would be able to do once winning. Pay off your debts, get a drink with your friends…

Start over.

Your thoughts were interrupted by footsteps, and you turn your gaze towards the sound. It was just Sang-Woo, you had grown to become fond of the man during your time. You had been apart of the same team, alongside Gi-Hun, Ali…

Painful memories crossed your mind, Ali was gone. He wasn’t coming back. You had to move on, no matter how tough it felt.

“Quiet in here, huh?” Sang-Woo’s voice speaks up, drawing you away from your own mind. He was stood above you, a few scrapes across his face from the glass tiles exploding. Dark eyes studied yours, his own expression unreadable. You could never tell what he was truly thinking.

“Yeah… it’s weird without everyone else here,” you shrug, the room holding a strange eeriness without the hundreds of players that once resided with you. “How many more games do you think there are?”

He stayed quiet, thinking. “One… maybe two? That’s my guess. Just a little longer and we’ll all be out of here and way richer than we ever were, too.”

You smiles, nodding at his reassurance. “Yeah, you’re right,” you nod, patting the space on your bed for him to sit down.

Taking a seat, Sang-Woo keeps his hand in his pocket, the other reaching forward to rest on your thigh. His thumb strokes your skin through the fabric of your pants, looking down at you with a slight hint of softness. “You’re coming for a drink with me and Gi-Hun, right? When we get out of here?”

“Of course,” you smile. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Settling into comfortable silence, you allow your eyes to slip closed. You could feel Sang-Woo’s hand on your thigh, a small comfort in such a place. The two of you had grown close rapidly, you admired him. He was smart, and confident and seemed to know what he was doing. All of that lured you in, made you desperate to win his affection. He had seen you during the dalgona round, working ever so calm despite the shootings around you. He knew you would fight to survive, and he wasn’t sure if he loved you for it, or hated it.

Sang-Woo looked down at you, eyes closed and breathing steady. He couldn’t work out if you were sleeping, though it’d be best if you were…

Glancing over his shoulder, he could see Gi-Hun across the room, taking a much needed nap. He turned back to you, sliding his hand out of his pocket. He glanced down, eyeing the object he had been keeping so secretly.

A glass shard, sharp and easy enough to stab someone with. He took a breath, steadying himself and his nerves. Sang-Woo had decided you needed to go nights before, a long thought-out choice. He theorised the final game would be between the three of you, some sort of direct competition against each of you. Sang-Woo knew there could only be one winner, one player who takes the amount home.

You had become a distraction to him, his feelings overriding his logic. You were beautiful, strangely optimistic after what you had been through, and gosh, he… he loved you. He knew that if you faced against him, he would let you win. Let you walk away with the money, and a better life. No, he needed that money for himself. It’d be him and Gi-Hun. He could take down his childhood best friend, surely…

Sang-Woo leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. A sick and twisted act of love before enacting his wicked plan. He watched as your eyes fluttered open, smiling up at him as though he’s the most wonderful man in the world. He wasn’t, not that you needed to know that.

“Get some sleep,” he whispered, trying to make it easier. You wouldn’t struggle, or cry or yell. He didn’t want you to view him as a monster. In a way, he was doing something good for you. What if you suffered in the next game? What if you had to watch him die? No… that wouldn’t be an option for you. You’d have the peaceful way out, all thanks to him.

“Lay with me?” You ask, softly. It was such an innocent request, he couldn’t deny you. Laying down behind you, he wrapped an arm over your waist, pulling you against his chest. “You’re safe with me,” he lied. “Nobody will hurt you.”

Both laying in silence, legs tangled together, Sang-Woo waited for you to begin drifting off. He had to wait for the right moment, he didn’t want you to fight him on this. You wouldn’t realise it was for the good of things. His mind replayed everything you had told him. You were in severe debt, over a million won. You had nobody out there, no family, no friends. Loan sharks were waiting to get you.

It was no life for anyone. Even if you paid off your debts, you’d still be alone. There was no way you’d all make it out alive. He knew that, he wasn’t dumb. He, on the other hand, had plenty to return to. He could get himself out of debt, though his reputation would still be ruined. He could give money to his mother, have enough to live comfortably. Yes, Sang-Woo knew he needed to survive. It’d be better for him than it would be for you.

He leaned down, face nuzzled against your neck. A final moment of comfort, his arm wrapped around you tightly. He had the glass shard ready and waited, concealed in his free hand. Gi-Hun was still sleeping, nobody paying close enough attention to him or to you.

“I love you,” he whispers. “I’m sorry.”

Before your half-asleep mind can process his words, Sang-Woo digs the glass shard into your stomach. He continues to hold you close, your blood pooling on the bed. He strokes your hair, whispering soft comforts to you.

“Shh, just let it happen. Its for the best, you’ll see that.”

You cough and choke, unable to say anything as the light drains from your eyes and blood pools into your mouth. You felt pain, and nothing more than that. A white, hot blinding pain as the room began to dim. You were tired, so… so tired. It’d feel so good to close your eyes right now.

As Sang-Woo felt you go limp in his arms, a small tune played over the speakers, a voice ringing out.

“Lights out! All players must return to their beds.”

As the lights shut off, Sang-Woo closed his eyes. He took a few deep breaths to calm his shaking hands. One more game, he repeated in his mind. One more game…

[pedriache]

hiii

could u write an academic enemies to lovers for kenan yildiz pleaseeee

Do I wanna know? 𖦹 Kenan Yildiz !

summary. You’d known Kenan since you were kids, you’d despised him since you were kids, and even know in college, you—oh. Maybe you didn’t?

word count. 545+

disclaimers. banter / slight enemies to lovers due to rivlary

bea speaks! didn’t even realize i’ve had this in my drafts since september i am so so sorry??? and this is kind of open ending but wtv i need it out of my drafts asap

You’d thought leaving your hometown for university would mean freedom—freedom from him. Kenan Yizdiz. But, as if the universe found pleasure in your misery, Kenan had shown up at orientation day with the same annoyingly perfect smile, acting as though he wasn’t the bane of your very existence.

You’d known Kenan for as long as you could remember, but not in the way that was heartwarming. No, he’d been your rival since grade school. Always somehow always beating you in everything. The spelling bee’s and honor rolls. Everything.

So, seeing him on orientation day was… well, infuriating.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he had drawled, leaning casually against the registration table as you signed in. “Still chasing my shadow?”

“More like trying to escape it,” you’d snapped, not even sparing him another glance. “Guess I failed that too.”

Now, three years later, Kenan is still somehow everywhere. In your classes. In the library. Everywhere. He’s still the same old Kenan—competitive, cocky, and stupidly good at everything he does.

But that wasn’t even the worst part. It was the way his smug grin grows wider every time he beats you (which is annoyingly often.)

The final straw comes when you were both nominated for the same prestigious academic award for your class. Today, you’d caught him the library with dozens of books spread around his study table.

“You’re really trying to win this, huh?” You ask, slamming your book into the table across from him.

Kenan’s gaze flickers up to you, unimpressed. “What gave it away, genius? The mountain of research around me or the fact that I’m not out partying like a dog like you act like I do?”

Okay, attitude.

“Hard work doesn’t make you special, Yildiz,” you shoot back. “It simply makes you tolerable.”

“Funny.” He counters quickly, leaning back into his chair. “I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

The two of you lock eyes, and for a moment something shifts. You were so used to the banter, the constant push and pull, that it takes you by surprise when his smug smirk.. softens?

“Why do you even hate me so much?” He asks, voice dropping into a quieter tone, breaking the silent tension. “You’ve been acting like this since we were kids. Like I stole your puppy or something.”

Your posture straightens and you shift on your feet uncomfortably. “Well, Frank did run to you before me that once.” You scoff at the memory of your childhood dog and Kenan, “and, I don’t hate you, Kenan. I just don’t like losing to you. That’s all.”

The brunettes lips twitch into a grin, “Is that so? Because I don’t mind losing to you.”

That.. well, it shut you up. Your eyes lock on his, stunned, while he gathers his books. As he walks past, he leans down just enough to whisper in your ear, his hot breath painting your cheeks a crimson red.

“Maybe if you stopped trying so hard to beat me—to dislike me, you’d realize we could make a really good team.”

Then he leaves.

Leaving you standing there, pulse racing, wondering what the hell just happened. And when did your agitating rival become someone who made your heart stutter.

Better yet, did you want to know?

likes, comments, and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @lechrts @sakashq @ar4ujos @be11ingham @spidybaby @st4rgirl-ellie @piastri-fvx

[jhyoos]

REBEL GIRL

Chapter 5: Pose For Me

rockstar!sevika x influencer!reader

summary: caitlyn and sevika tags along with (y/n) for a lingerie shoot.

mentions: sevika being a perv and a asshole, modern au, fame au, swearing, touching, kissing, angst

notes: thank you guys for over 100 followers! also the next five chapters are gonna be so good you guys I promise. this is lowkey a filler.

When you arrived in Las Vegas, you were hit with the dazzling neon lights and the chaotic energy of the city, but all you could think about was crawling into bed and shutting out the world. Unfortunately, rest wasn’t on the agenda.

Your manager, Lauren, had set up a last-minute photoshoot with Skims to promote their newest lingerie line. The shoot was scheduled downtown, right in the heart of the bustling city. Normally, you’d jump at the chance to work with a brand like Skims and maybe even brag a little about being handpicked by Kim Kardashian herself—but not after a grueling seven-hour bus ride.

The ride had been less than ideal. The band, as much as you loved them, had been in full chaos mode. Between Vi’s questionable playlists, Jinx’s random outbursts, and Sevika constantly finding ways to tease you, it was a miracle you hadn’t lost your mind.

And now, with your stomach growling and a headache forming, you had to somehow look flawless in a shoot that demanded nothing less than perfection.

“You okay?” Caitlyn asked as you slumped into one of the hotel lobby chairs while waiting for your room key.

“Yeah, just need a nap before I can even think about being seductive in front of a camera,” you muttered, rubbing your temples.

Caitlyn smirked. “You’ll be fine. You always pull it off.”

Sevika, standing nearby, raised an eyebrow. “Wait—you’re doing a lingerie shoot? In Vegas?” she asked, her tone carrying a hint of intrigue.

“Yes,” you sighed. “And no, you’re not invited to watch.”

Sevika chuckled. “I wasn’t asking to. Just… interesting timing.

“Tell me about it,” you replied, rolling your eyes as the front desk finally handed over your key cards. You made a beeline for the elevator, desperate for even a moment of peace.

When you woke from your nap and dragged yourself out of the hotel room, you were surprised to see Caitlyn and Sevika waiting by the lobby entrance.

“What are you two doing here?” you asked, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“We’re coming with you,” Caitlyn said, arms crossed. “You’ll need moral support, and I figured it would be nice to see how these shoots work.”

“Sevika doesn’t seem like the type for moral support,” you teased, raising an eyebrow at her.

“She’s just curious,” Caitlyn said, giving Sevika a pointed look.

“Curious about what?” Sevika asked, feigning innocence.

You rolled your eyes but secretly appreciated the company. “Fine. Just don’t distract me.”

The photoshoot location was stunning—a sleek, high-rise building with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the dazzling Las Vegas Strip. The studio was set up with luxurious props: velvet couches, golden lighting, and a team of stylists buzzing around like worker bees.

Lauren greeted you as soon as you walked in. “You’re late,” she said, glancing at her watch.

“I needed a nap. You took a first class flight. I had a 7 hour ride with annoying children that know how to play instruments,” you said unapologetically, pulling off your jacket. “Let’s get this over with.”

You were ushered to the dressing area, where racks of silky, lace-covered lingerie awaited you. The stylists worked their magic, curling your hair into soft waves and giving you a glowy makeup look that felt effortless yet glamorous. You slipped into the first set—a sheer black bralette and matching high-waisted bottoms with delicate floral embroidery. Paired with a silky robe, the look screamed elegance with a hint of edge.

As you stepped out of the dressing room for the Skims shoot, the atmosphere shifted. The sleek black lingerie hugged your figure perfectly, highlighting every curve and giving you an air of effortless confidence. You adjusted the straps slightly before walking onto the set, where Caitlyn and Sevika stood in the corner, watching. Caitlyn gave you a supportive smile, while Sevika leaned against the wall, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable.

The photographer directed you into the first pose, asking you to stand tall with your hands on your hips and your chin tilted slightly upward. The bold stance exuded power, and you felt the lights warm against your skin as the camera clicked. You risked a glance toward Sevika, catching her staring a bit too hard. Her sharp eyes were locked on you, and when she noticed you looking, she didn’t even bother to look away.

You quickly returned your focus to the shoot, deciding to let it slide. The next pose required you to sit on a plush velvet chair, crossing your legs and leaning forward slightly, your hands resting delicately on your thighs. You caught Caitlyn whispering something to Sevika out of the corner of your eye, her expression one of thinly veiled disapproval. Sevika shrugged, muttering something back, but Caitlyn’s brow furrowed even more.

The photographer asked you to stand and turn your back to the camera for the next shot. You glanced over your shoulder, giving a sultry look that would sell the new lingerie line effortlessly. The camera flashed again and again, and with each snap, you felt Sevika’s gaze burning into you. Caitlyn nudged her at one point, whispering something that made Sevika roll her eyes and look away briefly—though not for long.

Finally, the photographer directed you to lay across a chaise lounge, your arm resting above your head while your other hand trailed lazily along your side. The pose was elegant but daring, and you couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious. The energy in the room felt heavy, especially with Sevika’s lingering presence.

When the shoot wrapped, you thanked the crew and headed back to the dressing room to change. Caitlyn and Sevika stayed behind, but you could hear their hushed voices just outside the door.

“She’s doing her job,” Caitlyn hissed, her voice sharp but quiet. “Don’t make this weird.”

“I’m not making it weird,” Sevika shot back, her tone flat but defensive.

“You’re staring at her like she’s the only thing in the room,” Caitlyn countered. “It’s disrespectful.”

Sevika didn’t respond immediately, and you could imagine her shrugging nonchalantly. “She doesn’t seem to mind.”

You rolled your eyes at their typical behavior. The photoshoot had been beautiful but exhausting. You were more than ready to get out of the lingerie set and back into something comfortable. Shrugging off the silky robe, you reached behind to unclasp the delicate lace bra—only for the door to open.

“Sevika, what the hell?” you exclaimed, quickly clutching the robe to your chest.

She stepped in and shut the door behind her, leaning back against it with that signature smirk. “Relax. I just came to check on you.”

“Check on me? Really?” you asked, arching a brow as she moved closer.

“Fine,” she said, her voice low as she towered over you. “Maybe I just wanted to see you.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop your heart from racing as she reached out to tuck a loose curl behind your ear. Her fingers lingered against your jaw, and before you could process it, her lips were on yours.

The kiss was slow at first, like she was testing the waters. But when you didn’t pull away, Sevika deepened it, tilting your head back to claim your mouth fully. Her hands moved to your waist, gripping you with enough force to make your breath hitch. The kiss was electrifying, full of tension that had been building for far too long.

Her lips left yours, trailing hot kisses along your jawline and down your neck, her hands moving over the silky fabric of the lingerie. “You look so damn good in this,” she murmured against your skin.

You gasped softly, her words sending a shiver down your spine. Her lips returned to yours, hungrier this time, as she pulled you closer, her fingers brushing over the delicate lace of your outfit.

“Sevika…” you managed to whisper between kisses, your hands gripping her jacket as if to steady yourself.

She hummed in response, her lips traveling back to your neck, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. One hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you flush against her, while the other ghosted over the strap of your bra.

“Wait,” you said breathlessly, pulling away.

Her grey eyes met yours, full of heat. “What?”

“You’re gonna ruin the lingerie,” you said, trying to catch your breath. “I have to return this… I can’t exactly hand it back with lipstick stains and stretched straps.”

She smirked, leaning in as if to steal another kiss. “You don’t need to return it. You could just keep it. Looks better on you anyway.”

You pressed a hand against her chest, stopping her. “Sevika, I mean it. I can’t… not like this.”

Her smirk faltered slightly, her brows knitting in confusion. “Why not?”

“Because…” You took a deep breath, your voice softening. “I can’t keep doing this—letting things get carried away. I don’t want this to be about… just pleasure. It’s getting too complicated.”

For a moment, she didn’t say anything, her gaze searching yours. Finally, she nodded, stepping back with her hands raised in surrender. “Alright. I’ll behave.”

“Good,” you said, exhaling in relief as you moved toward the mirror to finish undressing.

But when you noticed her still standing there, watching you with an amused grin, you turned back to her, pointing toward the door. “Get out. You’re not seeing anything else, ma’am.”

She chuckled, raising a brow. “You sure about that?”

“Out!” you said, shoving her toward the door.

Sevika opened it, still laughing under her breath as she stepped into the hallway. “You’re fun to tease,” she called over her shoulder.

You slammed the door shut and locked it this time, leaning against it with a groan. “She’s impossible,” you muttered, shaking your head as you finally managed to get changed.

When you emerged from the dressing room in your hoodie and sweatpants, tugging the hem of the oversized top down, Caitlyn was already seated on the lounge chair outside, arms crossed and an unmistakable look of disapproval on her face.

You frowned, running a hand through your hair. “What?” you asked, genuinely confused.

Caitlyn arched a brow and gestured toward the hallway Sevika had disappeared down minutes earlier. “Sevika said she’s gonna take a Uber back. Vi called her to make some last minute changes to the set tonight. Sevika was in there for quite sometime…”

Your eyes widened slightly before narrowing in mock irritation. “Seriously?” you asked, crossing your arms.

Caitlyn didn’t blink. “Well?”

You sighed, sitting down in the chair opposite her. “Fine, yes, I kissed her. But that’s it. Nothing else happened.”

Caitlyn leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as her expression softened. “And why didn’t it go further?”

You hesitated, staring down at your hands. “Because… I don’t want to keep doing this back-and-forth thing with her. It’s fun in the moment, but I’m starting to feel something real, and I know Sevika isn’t the type for… whatever this is turning into.”

Caitlyn tilted her head, her voice calm. “Have you told her that? Or are you just assuming what she wants?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “I mean… no, I haven’t said anything directly. But I don’t need to. I know Sevika. She’s not a relationship person.”

Caitlyn gave you a pointed look. “People can surprise you, you know. And Sevika might not be as closed off as you think. It wouldn’t hurt to at least talk to her about it.”

You leaned back, pulling the hood over your head with a groan. “Why are you making this sound so simple?”

“Because it is simple,” Caitlyn said. “You’re overthinking it. If you feel something, say something. If she doesn’t feel the same way, at least you know where you stand.”

You peeked out from under the hood, your gaze skeptical. “And what if she just laughs in my face?”

Caitlyn smirked. “Then I’ll let you borrow one of my guitars to bash her over the head with.”

You snorted, finally cracking a small smile. “Thanks for the moral support, I guess.”

Caitlyn stood, brushing off her jeans. “Anytime. Now, are we grabbing food, or are you going to sit here overthinking for the next hour?”

You sighed, pushing yourself up from the chair. “Fine, food. But I’m not promising I’ll do any of that talking stuff you’re suggesting.”

“Baby steps,” Caitlyn said with a grin as she slung an arm around your shoulders.

The two of you headed for the hotel’s restaurant, the conversation lingering in the back of your mind. Talking to Sevika felt impossible, but Caitlyn’s words had planted a seed of doubt. Maybe it wasn’t as complicated as you were making it out to be.

And maybe—just maybe—Sevika wasn’t as unreachable as you thought.

Later that evening, after dinner with Caitlyn, you found yourself lounging in your hotel’s room. Caitlyn had gone back to her room, claiming she wanted an early night, and the others were scattered between the casino floor and their rooms. You were scrolling aimlessly on your phone when Sevika walked in with a spare room key. Her presence was commanding as always, but there was a subtle edge to her expression—something unreadable.

She didn’t say anything at first, just grabbed a beer from the mini-fridge and sat across from you on the couch. The silence between you stretched, thick and heavy.

Finally, she broke it. “So, about earlier,” she said, her tone flat.

You tensed but kept your eyes on your phone. “What about it?”

Sevika leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “You stopped me.”

You hesitated, glancing up at her. “Yeah, I did.”

“Why?”

You sighed, setting your phone down. “Because I didn’t want it to go further.”

Sevika frowned slightly, her dark eyes narrowing. “Why not? Didn’t seem like you wanted to stop at the time.”

“It’s not that I didn’t want to,” you said, your voice softer now. “I just… I can’t keep doing this with you.”

Her brows furrowed deeper, confusion and frustration flickering across her face. “Doing what?”

“This,” you said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “Whatever it is we’re doing. Hooking up, fooling around… it’s fun, Sev, but it’s starting to mean something to me. And I don’t think it means the same thing to you.”

Sevika’s expression hardened instantly, her features locking into something cold and unreadable. She leaned back, her jaw tightening.

“Wait a minute,” she said, her voice tinged with incredulity. “You’re catching feelings?”

Your stomach twisted at the way she said it, like it was absurd. “Yeah. I am.”

For a moment, she just stared at you. Then she scoffed, shaking her head. “I thought we were having fun. I didn’t think this was supposed to be anything serious.”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut, and you swallowed hard, fighting the sting in your eyes. “Of course you didn’t,” you said quietly. “Why would you?”

Sevika exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “Look, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just… not that kind of person. I don’t do the whole ‘serious relationship’ thing. I thought you knew that.”

“Yeah, I do know that,” you said, your voice trembling slightly despite your effort to stay calm. “And that’s exactly why I can’t keep doing this. I’m not built for… whatever this is. I can’t just turn off my feelings, Sevika.”

She stood up abruptly, pacing a few steps away before turning back to face you. “So what, you’re just done? That’s it?”

“What else am I supposed to do?” you shot back, the frustration and hurt spilling out now. “Keep hooking up with you while I pretend I’m fine with it meaning nothing to you? That’s not fair to me.”

Sevika’s jaw clenched, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “I never promised you anything.”

“I know,” you said, standing up too. “And that’s the problem. You didn’t promise me anything, and you don’t want to. So I’m doing the smart thing for once and walking away before I get hurt worse.”

She didn’t respond right away, her gaze fixed on you like she was trying to find the right words. But whatever she wanted to say, she didn’t. Instead, she just nodded stiffly.

“Fine,” she said, her voice colder than you’d ever heard it. “Do what you gotta do.”

And with that, she turned and walked out, leaving you standing there with your chest aching and tears threatening to spill.

You stood frozen for a moment, staring at the spot where Sevika had just been. Her words echoed in your mind—"I thought we were having fun. I didn’t think it was anything serious."

The tears that had been welling up finally spilled over, but you quickly wiped them away, not wanting anyone to walk in and see you like this. You sank back onto the couch, your mind a storm of emotions. Anger. Sadness. Embarrassment.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t seen this coming. You knew Sevika’s reputation. You knew she wasn’t the type to settle down or make commitments. And yet, you let yourself fall anyway.

You didn’t even realize how much time had passed until Caitlyn walked into the lounge, her brows knitting together as she took one look at you.

“Hey, what happened?” she asked, sitting down beside you.

You shook your head, brushing off her concern. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

Caitlyn wasn’t buying it. She crossed her arms and gave you a pointed look. “You look like you’ve been crying. Did something happen with Sevika?”

Her name was enough to make your chest ache all over again. You sighed, leaning back against the couch. “Yeah. I told her how I felt… and she basically told me it’s not mutual.”

Caitlyn winced, her face softening. “I’m sorry. I know that must’ve been hard to hear.”

“It’s my own fault,” you muttered, rubbing your temples. “I knew what I was getting into, Cait. I knew she wasn’t serious about me. But I let myself believe, even for a second, that maybe she could be.”

Caitlyn placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “It’s not your fault. You can’t help how you feel. And Sevika… she has her own issues. You shouldn’t beat yourself up for wanting more than she can give.”

You looked at her, appreciating the comfort in her words. “Thanks, Cait.”

She gave you a small smile. “Of course. Look, why don’t we get out of here? Clear your head a bit. There’s a café downstairs that makes great coffee, and you could use a break from… all of this.”

You hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, that sounds good. I just need a minute.”

Caitlyn patted your shoulder before standing. “Take your time. I’ll be in the lobby.”

Once she was gone, you took a deep breath and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. You wanted to be mad at Sevika, but deep down, you weren’t. She had been honest about who she was. You were the one who had hoped for more.

Still, it didn’t make the pain any easier to bear.

Later that evening, Caitlyn returned to the room, already dressed for the concert in her sleek, edgy ensemble. She looked at you, still curled up in your hoodie and sweatpants, and frowned.

“I thought you’d be getting ready by now,” she said.

You sighed, pulling your knees up to your chest. “I’m not going tonight. I just… I’m not feeling it.”

Caitlyn stepped closer, concern flickering across her face. “Are you sure? It might be a good distraction.”

You shook your head firmly. “No, I’m sure. I was going to record a vlog or something, but… I don’t even feel like doing that. Would you mind recording it for me? Just some clips from the concert?”

Her expression softened. “Of course. Anything specific you want me to get?”

“Just the usual—crowd shots, the band playing. Maybe a bit of backstage stuff if you can. Here.” You reached over to the desk and grabbed your camera, handing it to her. “I trust you with it.”

Caitlyn took the camera with a small smile. “I’ll make sure it’s perfect. Are you sure you’re okay staying here by yourself?”

You hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just… bring me something sweet after the show. Chocolate or something.”

She chuckled softly. “Deal.”

As Caitlyn left, the quietness of the room enveloped you. For now, you had to focus on picking up the pieces.

You could deal with Sevika—and your heart—later.

-

taglist : @moodient @whatlefoop @nonexistentsourcherry @graciebloom @swordfemm4 @m00npjm @sevikasleftarm @fayecreates @artfairyyyyy @mulan-but-gay @inlovewithsevikaandambessa @sapphiellar @fudosl

[snailpebbles]

your fic about Chishiya was so good I feel like you captured his character perfectly 😩 will you write more about him? I can barely find any good writings about him and yours is truly so perfect 😔💓

Patchwork Love

pairing: Chishiya Shuntaro x gn!reader

summary: after being injured in a game, Chishiya drags you off and is somehow more silent than usual. What's his problem?

tags: friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, they're both so stupid

warnings: descriptions of injuries including blood, non-sexual unwanted touch, emotional constipation, Chishiya cries lmao

a/n: hope you enjoy :) my writing is rusty lol but I love this trope

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Everything was going fine at first; you were on your own in a level three spades game, lightwork! It was a construction zone with many metal rails and walkways, and multiple wide pipes at the very top. The objective was simple - get to the top before the time runs out. At first it was that simple, that is until the freezing cold water began to pour in randomized sections. A game of strength and luck it seems. There were others from the Beach with you, so of course you figured you'd just team up and make sure no one slips. Wrong! To save their own asses just as the four of you were getting towards the top, they used your body as an easier to grip ladder. Not only did you feel violated, you also felt icy cold fear mixing with white hot rage. What the fuck? You pulled those three up so many times at the risk of drowning and for what?

The water pours down on you as they cheer from the top with just two minutes left, freezing and blinding you as you struggle to actually breathe. Two hands on one thin bar that's already trembling under your suspended weight. Fuck. Everything felt like a blur as you hauled your leg over another bar, using all your strength to not drown from the water rushing across you and to pull yourself onto the walkway. For a moment it seems like something had snapped, your leg overstretched and arms overexerted. You aren't built for this! Your life before consisted of studying and absolutely destroying kids on x-box! As you lay on the metal grating, water having ceased with a heaving chest, Chishiyas face flashes in your mind. Well fuck - you're realizing you like him at the worst possible time. With that motivation in mind alongside the need to deck those three in the balls, you force your aching body up the rest of those rails with ten seconds left on the clock.

The three boys are obviously shocked to see you alive and rush off, once again leaving you behind with no transportation back. Lovely.

You aren't quite sure how you managed to get back to Beach but by the time you do, the sun is beginning to rise. Damn, what if they vacated your room? The morning air is chilly and you know you have some sort of hypothermia if your chilled fingertips are anything to go by, not to mention the way your head is beginning to swim - pun intended.

As your torn up, shaking form stumbles through the gates past a few surprised militants and even more surprised party-goers, Kuina barrels towards you. She looks both put together and a mess, her eyes red rimmed and seeming to water - pun intended - as her warm hands cup your ice cold cheeks. She chokes up at this realization and ushers you inside, muttering something about Ann being a little busy with some project as she leads you two to a familiar door.

Chishiyas face, as calm as ever, cracks when Kuina barges in. He's up in an instant and wasting no time as apparently one look at you is enough to know what you need - or maybe he just knows you. A blanket is around your shoulders before you can blink and now you're on his bed, unfortunately not in the context you'd wish for now. Kuina runs off after Chishiya instructs her to get a whole load of things, but you honestly have no idea what because you're too busy staring at him. Chishiyas face is contorted in a way you've never seen before or at least haven't been the recipient of. His eyes are focused in solely on you, his brows furrowed and typical smirk gone in favor of a grimace. Most notable are his hands resting heavy on your shoulders as if you'd shrug the warm blanket off. Those hands you now realize match those in your dreams are surprisingly warm and unsurprisingly steady - Chishiya was a little less smart than you thought if he didn't know by now that you knew of his profession. The idea of him in a doctors coat distracts you as he gets up from where he was crouched in front of you, reappearing with bandages and disinfectant.

"So..how'd your game go?" You break the awkward silence and feel your cheeks warm at how scratchy your voice is. Must've been the borderline constant drowning. His sharp gaze makes you almost flinch with the weight in it, your own eyes dropping back to your lap. Of course he doesn't respond, only making some vaguely disapproving noises as those eyes scan your wounds. His silence begins to piss you off, that rage from earlier being misdirected at him. Seriously, you almost died in a frankly horrific way and this is all he has to give?

"I can patch myself up. I'm not helpless." The tension rises, twisting uncomfortably in your gut as Chishiya stays in place while you glare at him. With a huff as he refuses to speak, you get up on weak legs. This seems to snap him out of it as he grabs your hips - and just at the right time. Your legs give way as the exhaustion hits all at once to only fuel that anger, a frustrated sound coming from you as Chishiya tuts disapprovingly again.

"Stay still. You're hurt and too tired to move." His voice is rough and annoyingly calm. Is he allergic to worrying? You obey though as he unravels the bandages and uncaps the disinfectant, steeling yourself for the following pain.

The blond has the grace to look at least a little apologetic at every wince and soft cry your battered form gives, even letting you hold onto either his shoulders or jacket. The cuts, scraps, bruises, and blood staining your body worry him even if he doesn't show it. Images begin flashing in his mind of internal bleeding, broken ribs, torn muscles-

"Are you..crying?" Your soft voice breaks the less tense silence, your own tears having dried up some time ago. Chishiya pales as he becomes aware of the liquid dripping down his cheeks and hastily wipes them away, refusing to meet your gaze or lift his head.

"No." He replies shortly, heart picking up its pace as he realizes he has to patch your torn hands. You follow his gaze and readily hold both hands out, skin raw and bleeding still. He winces internally at the sight of your beautiful hands so heavily marred.

Warmth spreads through you as he takes your hand in his non-dominant one to carefully disinfect it, whispering apologies as you hold back cries of pain. Somehow you aren't too shocked by this display of care, an inner part of you having sensed something was different by the lingering looks and the way he is always there. Chishiya wraps your hand with a gentleness you weren't sure he possessed, repeating the process with your other hand until every wound is patched up. Not a word was properly shared, your eyes rarely met, and you didn't comment again on the occasional slip of tears you caught.

"Go change in the bathroom." He mutters after passing you actual clothes, aka his own sweatpants and a t shirt. Once you step back out of the bathroom - definitely not after taking a moment to admire yourself in his clothes - Chishiya does just what you definitely didn't. The admiration is well hidden yet you catch it in the way he turns his head slightly to the left and steps back, as if you're a danger.

"These are really comfy, thanks." An appreciative smile brightens your face and threatens to blind him, so he sits down where you were moments earlier. You take a seat beside him and try to hide your steadily growing flustered state when that damn white jacket is placed around your shoulders. He says nothing so neither do you, the silence now companionable even as sparks burn its edges.

"What happened." It's not a question and you know that, just as you know what happened isn't your fault. The tears, anger and irrational shame, prick your eyes anyways. He doesn't comment, he only takes your pinkie with his.

After a deep inhale and calming exhale, you speak. "It was an easy spades game and I teamed up with three guys from here, but towards the end they just.." You choke up momentarily, but with the way his hand moves to rub your forearm, you know you'll get it out.

"They knocked me down so I was hanging and used me like a fucked up bridge- their hands were everywhere and I know it was for survival only but it was so..so dehumanizing." The words come out softer and softer until you aren't even sure Chishiya can hear, but he does. He only ever listens for you. His face is as calm as ever as you cry, arm light as it wraps around your shoulder to bring you into the only safe haven you have in this fucked up place.

Time passes, you aren't sure how much but you are sure you've dozed off, yet Chishiya hasn't moved once. He holds you close and his fingers still rub circles on your shoulder, mindful of a bruise there as he's memorized your injuries. There's some snacks and another blanket on the small dresser, presumably brought by Kuina.

Chishiya knows you've slipped into that numb state, so he doesn't mind helping you eat some crackers and drink that tea you're so obsessed with. He doesn't mind keeping you right there, right where he can protect you and you can rest; where you can heal yourself. What he does mind is you deciding to break out of this numbness by pestering him.

"You cried." You whisper, poking his chest lightly as his arms tenses around you. For a moment you fear you may have misjudged the air and his actions, envy flooding - pun unintended - through you at the idea that maybe all his patients get such treatment. His answer calms your thoughts.

"Yes, you could say I was..worried. Don't do that again." His warm breath brushes across the top of your head and a faint smile tugs at your lips from the slight roughness to his typically smooth voice. Your head props up on his chest so you can see him and he can't resist looking down at you. His eyebrow raises in a silent question that has you grin, that familiar smirk returning.

"If it gets me this treatment.."

"No."

"Worth a shot."

"..You don't need to be hurt to get my attention." The one-sided banters comes to a halt as your eyes widen, staring at his ever calm face like he hand painted the stars for you. If he could, he would.

With a slight grunt you manage to sit up a little better, worry flickering over Chishiyas face at your show of pain. Damn you could get used to this. Words aren't his thing so what better communication than action? Even with bandages, your hands ever so carefully cup his jaw, moving slowly incase he doesn't want this.

Chishiya really fucking wants this. With the way you're being so gentle, so considerate, when others in his life haven't almost keels him over. But you're injured, mentally and physically, so slow and steady will win this race. The kiss is soft and unhurried, as if there isn't an invisible timer looming over your heads. Time is irrelevant when he whispers your name oh so quietly and his hand oh so carefully caresses your matching tear stained cheek. With every touch, every shared breath, the previous hands are washed away for now. They'll haunt you at night but Chishiya will be there to wipe them away, whether that be with affection or simply being there as you get a snack to soothe your brain.

You know why he cried, why he looked so worried, why it's his clothes you're wearing, and why Kuina said Ann was busy when you actually passed by her lounging in the hall. He loves and he cares, the same as you. It only took almost losing you to realize it.

As you separate slowly and lay down, drawn together as if magnets, you drift off. Chishiya waits patiently as your breath evens out before slipping away.

It's the next morning when you wake up alone in the cold bed, insecure heartbreak seeping in until Chishiya quietly walks into the room, not hesitating with the gentle squeeze to your shoulder and kiss to your head. No words are exchanged when you settle in the chair next to him by his desk, watching him build who knows what as you munch away on those snacks. His ankle his hooked with yours and that is all that matters - you can ignore the split knuckles and prideful hint to his face because he's yours, and you're his.

[teamchasezwrites]

Breed You

Word Count: 8,504

Characters: Damian Priest/OC

Genre: Breeding Kink, Smut, Dirty Talk, Pregnancy Kink, Sexual Explicit Content

Summary: Thoughts about having sex with his wife were nothing new for Damian. Having thoughts of mounting her from behind and breeding her... well... those were new.

Author's Note: When it comes to writing smut, this post fits me to a T. I almost reported it under "I'm in this photo and I don't like it." This story is the first time I've attempting writing a kink and I do hate how it wasn't the main focal point. Go easy on me! Enjoy

Inspired by:

The door to the arena closed behind Damian as he stepped into the private parking lot. He nodded his head to a couple crew members standing along the building. A lingering acrid stench hung in the air indicating a cigarette break. He would never forget the smell as a former smoker himself. Ten years clean the smell now irritated his nose.

The building did little to hold in the cheers of the thousands of fans inside. The music was muffled but he couldn’t distinguished which wrestler was headed to the ring or who was victorious. If he were being honest with himself, he had no idea what was even on the card for the night beyond his own match – an eight man tag team match between Judgement Day and R-Truth, The Miz, and DIY. Judgement Day won of course. He was able to secure the pin on R-Truth.

Then his focus turned from the job to something better. Thankful Triple H was now in charge and he was a big champion of letting wrestlers have time off for family. His match needed to be in the first part of Raw or else it would throw off the scheduling for his traveling. Like the ripple a rock makes in the water as it plunges into its depth. The rings start off small and get bigger and bigger. He didn’t get out of the arena on time, he’ll miss his flight from LAX. If he missed his flight, it was a six hour drive.

Without traffic.

And six hours was way too long of a delay to be where he so desperately needed to be.

Damian hit the button on the key fob of his rental and tossed his black duffle bag into the passenger seat as he climbed into the nondescript sedan. He pushed the button on the dash and the engine started immediately. The radio started blasting Death Angel’s “Father of Lies”. He quickly reached out turning the volume down a couple notches from where he’d been rocking out earlier on his way to the Honda Center.

As he backed from the the parking spot, he sent a little prayer up for traffic to work with him. There was slim wiggle room and it was already a little after six local time. Los Angelas wasn’t exactly known for its commute.

Whatever Gods controlled the traffic were on his side because he was able to make it to the rental drop off at LAX in the time the GPS estimated. The drop off was quick and he was able to zip through security and make it to his gate with time to spare. Boarding hadn’t begun yet so he took the time he had to go to the bathroom and check his phone.

He sat in a chair surrounded by no one. The black hat on his head pulled low over his eyes with the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up over it. The long braided extensions he currently had his hair styled in was hidden by the hoodie helping give him a case of anonymity. Though he was still a six foot five man with bulking muscles. He definitely stood out against the rest of the passengers awaiting the same flight.

‘Made it to the airport.’

Roughly two hours – depending on how long it took to board and actually take off – before he would be at his destination. His leg bounced in anticipation.

While he waited, Damian scrolled through his social media. He liked posts from fellow Raw wrestlers and shared posts from WWE’s main account about him to his accounts. When boarding was announced he stood, shouldering his bag.

The attendant at the gate scanned the ticket on his phone with a smile. “Have a good flight.”

He responded with a smile and made his way onto the boarding bridge. He stepped into the plane, ducking his head where he smiled at the flight attendant welcoming him and quickly found his seat. Keeping his phone in his hand he stuffed his bag into the overhead compartment and took his assigned window seat.

The anticipation continued to build and he wished the passengers would move more quickly to their seats. The clock didn’t start ticking until the plane was in the air.

75 minutes until touchdown.

Damian’s phone chirped in his ear through the AirPods. He had yet to turn his playlist on. Glancing down at his lock screen he saw the notification. His lips spread into a smile.

Ali: You’re so close!!

He swiped his thumb across the notification to open the message thread.

‘Boarded now.’

‘If I could fly this plane, I’d already be on the way.’

A college-aged looking kid took the empty seat next to him before Damian could stand and try to do just that.

‘I’ll be your sexy flight attendant to mess around in your cock pit.’

Damian grinned at the sexual connotation of his wife’s text. ‘You do know your way around my cock…’

An image appeared next and he greedily tapped on it to enlarge it on his screen. The photo was dark, the only light source were the candles lining the edge of the bathtub and the windowsill above it. His wife’s feet peeked out of the water through the reflection of the candles. The feet glistened with water. Her skin tanned and perfect in the candlelight.

‘I’m gonna start right there and work my way up. I won’t be stopping until my lips have touched every piece of skin.’

He shifted in his seat. First to make sure his phone screen was hidden from prying eyes. Second, to alleviate the growing pressure against his zipper.

‘I hope you’ll be spending extra time in certain places on your quest.”

‘There’ll be quite a few layovers in all my favorite places.”

‘Fuck Dame… I need you to hurry up.’

Damian bit back the moan wanting to come out. He could almost feel her need coming through in the previous text. ‘Are you on edge Corazón? Do you need to cum?’

‘My fingers are nothing compared to yours.’

Damian shifted again at her words. There was no way to inauspiciously press the heel of his hand to his cock for some form of relief. ‘I’ll be there soon Baby.’

The plane finished boarding during his shameless conversation with his wife. The flight attendants were already closing the overhead compartments. ‘Getting ready to take off. I’ll see you soon. I love you.’

Ali’s answering ‘I love you’ text had him putting his phone in airplane mode and pressing the button on the side. The screen went dark. Tucking it in his hoodie pocket, he stared out the window as the plane taxied away from the terminal and down the runway.

The wait wasn’t long before pilot had them speeding down the runway past the other flights waiting their turn. The buildings on the ground flew by as the plane picked up speed. The nose lifted and soon the plane was off the ground and climbing high into the air.

The anticipation danced around in his belly like nerves. Damian couldn’t even explain the feeling. Ali was just in his arms yesterday when he kissed her goodbye at their front door before heading to the airport to fly to California for Monday Night Raw.

Maybe it had to do with the fact he was flying to Mammoth Mountain where he was spending the next six days nestled in a cozy room with his wife in the California ski town. Six days of uninterrupted time with just him and her. Celebrating five years of marriage. Celebrating their love.

Jesus did he love her.

They met in a club in New Jersey. The relationship was purely sexual on the onslaught. Then it turned into an on-again off-again before he finally wizened up to make it permanently in 2017. He didn’t know where wrestling was taking him at the time, but he knew Ali was it.

The plane leveled off and settled in for the quick jaunt west. The seatbelt sign clicked off but Damian paid it no attention. He retrieved his phone from his hoodie pocket and entered his passcode. He had a few games he could play to pass the time; an old pro at traveling now but he ended up in his photos. Skipping the raunchy and inappropriate memes he’d send Rhea and the rest of the Judgement Day in their group text, he narrowed in on the true photos on his camera.

The first one to pop up was a photo taken just last Wednesday on Valentine’s Day. A picture of him and Gabriela – his four year old daughter. She was perched on his back in a piggy back ride. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck in a pinching squeeze with his arms hooked around her already long legs securing her to him. Long legs and arms reminded him of a newborn horse. Her dark brown hair hung in a mass of wild waves hadn’t yet met a comb that morning. Her brown eyes sparkled in pure delight or mischief. The crooked little grin proudly displayed on her face.

Gabriela – an absolute surprise to them both finding out they were already many weeks along after their wedding. Completely spoiled rotten and one hundred percent Papi’s little girl.

Then there was a photo of two year old Ian taken that same morning, sitting at the kitchen table in his booster chair. His hand griping the small fork in a backwards grip with a look of pure determination on his face as he tried to stab the syrup covered pancake.

A smile formed on his lips as he could still hear his son chanting ‘Papi, Papi, Papi,’ as he dished up the special heart shaped pancakes to him and his sister along with cut up sausage patties and strawberries.

He swiped his thumb again and there was a tired looking Ali with her own heart shaped pancake. He liked to imagine she was tired because he wore her out the night before but he knew better. The culprit of her (and his) exhaustion was sitting in his wife’s lap, sporting an open mouth grin showing off her teeth. Sofia just turned one last month and had yet to sleep through the night. He was beginning to think she never would.

Damian could still smell the fresh baby scent when he nuzzled her sweet little face and kissed her goodbye yesterday.

He continued to scroll through the photos in his phone, getting further away from the current photos. His kids regressed quickly through the months and his heart twisted a little noticing how much Gabi changed in just this last year alone. Sofia became that tiny infant again; the one he was almost too afraid to hold after delivery. She’d been the smallest of his children. Not quite clocking six pounds. He felt like an overgrown oaf cradling her in his arms.

A couple more scrolls and there was Ali laying in the hospital bed, looking exhausted yet beautiful still in the midst of labor though not at the pushing stage. Her belly big and round with a stubborn Sofia not wanting to come out.

There was a stirring deep in his own belly he couldn’t place as he stared at a few more photos of Ali in the hospital before Sofia was born.

He kept swiping back through photos and his breath caught in his throat at the black and white photo. Taken at Christmas time because he received a tripod for his phone. Happy he could now take photos with his family without them having to be selfies all the time. This photo though…

Ali was lying in their bed on her back. The long flowing sheer negligee was deep red he remembered. The slit started at the center of the bra cups and down the entire length allowing it to fall open exposing her belly. Her back was slightly arched allowing her belly to be more prominent. Her head lifted a little, exposing her neck and the angle of her jaw.

He laid between her legs, shirtless with a pair of jeans slung low on his hips. His arms holding himself above her to keep his weight off her. The black and white photo drawing out the tattoos on his left arm more. His arms were slightly bent so he could dip and press his lips against Ali’s belly.

He’d forgotten all about the photo.

The next photo showed him on his knees in front of a standing Ali kissing her belly again. Then they were both standing. Him behind her with his arms wrapped around her, his hands on either side of her belly. Another photo of Ali by herself. Turned sideways to the camera, displaying her pregnant belly. One arm resting on top, the other cradling it from underneath.

Damian’s scrolls became faster almost frantic as he swiped through his photos searching for the ones with Ali pregnant. Anything with his wife’s belly on display. As he stared at the photos he couldn’t help but remember how it felt when they made love.

Her breasts enlarged, full of milk to nourish their babies. Her nipples tender and sensitive. The cries he could draw from just tracing his tongue around the areola. How her legs would jerk back and forth listlessly.

With her belly big and round, their frequent position would be him taking her from behind. He would help ease her onto her hands and knees as he situated himself behind her on his knees. He’d run his cock through her glistening folds before slowly sinking in. His hands would be gripping her hips as he moved in and out of her. Slowly his hands would move to her belly. He’d pull her up so her back was to his chest. She’d sink on him allowing him better access to her belly.

He loved the weight of her belly. The feel. The look… how it turned him on to see her pregnant with his child. It bolstered the possessiveness he felt when it came to it wife. He was the man who sent his seed deep inside her body, marking his claim.

Damian swallowed roughly on a dry mouth. The path his thoughts took were surprising. His cock was painfully hard in his jeans now as thoughts swirled in his head of impregnating his wife once more. Of releasing his unfettered sperm deep inside her.

Of mounting his wife from behind and breeding her.

Watching once more as her belly grew round with his child.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking. Please fasten your dealt belts as we make our descent into Mammoth Lakes. Flight attendants, please prepare for landing.”

Damian’s thoughts were nearly feral as he exited the plane and walked into the small, private terminal of Mammoth Lakes Airport. His stride was purposeful as he exited the main doors. A few vehicles were lined up to fill with passengers to take them to various locations on the mountain.

He stepped up to the first one at the front of the line. “There’s a nice tip if you take me to The Lodge without waiting to fill the vehicle.”

The man grinned. “Yes Sir,” he gave him a mock salute. He started the vehicle as Damian climbed inside.

He fastened his seatbelt and pulled out his phone taking it off airplane mode. It chimed in his ear as the van pulled away from the curb.

A video from his mom waited. He tapped the video and was rewarded when his screen filled with Gabi. ‘Hi Papi! I love you!’ Her face zoomed in as she must have kissed the phone. He smiled watching as the phone shook and he was left staring at his daughter’s ear as she turned her head. Then she was off running, her giggles coming through his AirPods. ‘Say hi to Papi Ian.’ His son came into view as he pressed his face against his sister’s. Their faces squished together to fit both on the screen. ‘Hi Papi!’ Ian always over accented the ending sound in his name, holding onto the ‘e’ for a few beats. He loved it. ‘Say I love you!’ He chuckled at Gabi’s whisper. ‘Love you.’ Ian parroted as he learned toward the phone showing off his mouth full of teeth. The screen shook again and bounced as Gabi was on the move again. ‘Careful Sweetie.’ He heard his mother’s voice. Then Sofia was on the screen. Sitting in his mother’s lap. Her pink blanket in her lap. Her mouth sucking on her binkie. Even though the phone Damian could see the heaviness in her eyes as she held onto the last vestibules of wake, no doubt too intrigued by the movements of her siblings. ‘Feefa loves you too Papi.’ The nickname caused him to smile. Gabi had such a hard time saying Sofia. It came out as Feefa and even he called her that at times. His heart burst when Sofia pushed the binkie out of her mouth, a wide grin of her face as she saw her own reflection in the phone. ‘Wave to Papi, Feefa. Wave.’ A cheer nearly left his mouth at the same time as his mother’s when Sofia raised her hand out opening and shutting her fingers. ‘Bye Papi! I love you!’

The video ended and a small wave of sadness went through him. He missed them. He missed chasing Gabi through the house trying to corral her into the bath before bed. He missed snuggling with both Gabi and Ian on his lap as he read a bedtime story. He missed giving Sofia the final bottle before bed. Her brown eyes staring up at him holding him captive. Her small hand reaching up to touch his cheek, petting his beard. He would take her hand and press soft kisses to her fingers.

“We’re here Sir.”

Damian looked up from his phone. The Lodge loomed before him. He tucked his phone into his hoodie as he unfastened his seat belt. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and took a couple bills out and handed them to the driver. “Thank you.”

“Enjoy your stay.”

Damian shouldered his bag as he tucked his wallet back in his pocket. He shut the door to the vehicle and started walking to the front doors as the van pulled away behind him.

The lobby was busy with the evening dinner hour. The lifts were closed. Skiing done for the night. Everyone was gathered, unwinding from a day on the slopes. The bar was standing room only. The roar of laughter and chatter echoing through the lobby. There was a line of patrons waiting to enter the restaurant. The large fire place was on the far wall. The flames danced in bright orange, red, and yellow hues. The seats around the fire were filled with friends and lovers alike.

Damian kept his head down and gaze averted as he ducked into a corner; phone already in hand. He had a waiting message from Ali.

An image.

He swallowed roughly and opened it. He released a breathy moan when the picture popped up. Ali lay on her stomach on the light colored comforter. The photo caught the side of her face; the mass of curls dipping in front of her shoulder and over her back. She wore no bra.

Her legs bent behind her, ankles crossed. Her back arched, sending her ass popping up. A pair of white lace panties sat on her waist and dipped between ass cheeks.

‘You’re killing me.’

He wanted her just like that. Wanted to slid up behind her and press his lips to the curve of an ass cheek before sinking his teeth in it. He wanted to tangle his fingers in her hair and pull her back while his other hand set about unbuckling his pants.

‘Where are you?’

‘In the lobby trying not to be recognized while trying to get a room number out of this girl.’

‘Is she cute?’

‘Fucking hot.’

‘Yeah?’

‘What would you do if you got her room number?’

‘Corazon you’re playing with fire.’

‘Tell me.’

‘I’d slip into her room while she’s laying on the bed. I’d press a kiss to her ankle while I climb between her legs. Pressing kisses to the back of her thighs up to her ass where I’d sink my teeth in to the soft flesh. I’d trace my tongue along the lace panties to where they dip down between her cheeks. I’d run my hand up her back to tangle into her hair and pull back causing her to arch more into me. I’d run my finger down between her cheeks to where her pretty pussy waits for me. Dripping wet. I’d press my finger deep inside her, pumping into her. Then I’d pull my hard cock out running it through her wet pussy lips as she begs for me to take her. She’d be so wet for me I can slid all the way into her on one hard thrust. There is no softness here. Just hard and fast until I have her screaming and coming apart all over my cock. When she does, I’ll give her what she so desperately wants. My hot cum painting deep inside her pussy walls.’

Fuck. Hard and fast is probably all he’s going to be good for the first time. He tugged at his hoodie in an effort to pull it down to cover his raging hard on.

‘Get here right the fuck now or it’s gonna be my fingers I’m riding hard and fast.’

The room number came through immediately after.

Armed with the information, Damian made his was through the lobby toward the elevator. Outside he appeared calm, on the inside he was wound so tight he threatened to explode. It wouldn’t take much. The simple squeeze of his cock to ward off an impending orgasm would send him in a tailspin.

Jesus he needed to get a hold of himself.

The elevator was thankfully empty when it arrived and no one followed him on. He hit the button to close the doors before anyone could slip through.

Moments later he was stalking down the hallway. Eyes catching door numbers as he passed. Then he was standing outside his room for the next six days. His wife just on the other side. Anticipation rolled through him. He raised his hand to tap softly on the door when it was pulled open and he was yanked through.

Hands palmed his cheeks pulling him down into a hot kiss. Her tongue invaded his mouth. There was no finesse. Just desperate strokes.

The door clicked shut behind him. His bag falling off his shoulder to the floor. Her hands grabbed at the hem of his hoodie frantically trying to push it up his body needing to get him naked. To feel that warm skin beneath her fingers. Feel his hard muscles.

“Corazon, wait,” Damian murmured through the kisses.

“I can’t… I need you. Right now,” Ali’s hands hit skin and she moaned into his mouth. His skin was fever warm and she ran her hands up his chest, pushing both the hoodie and t-shirt up.

With strength he wasn’t sure he had, he broke the kiss with a groan and straightened. He caught sight of her for the first time. He moaned as his eyes raked over her naked body. “Ali, baby… you better not have been answering the door like that to anyone else.”

“And if I did?” Ali reversed her destination and her hands traveled south to Damian’s jeans.

Damian growled at her words. He pushed the hood from his head and ripped the hat off. With one hand gripping the hem of his hoodie, he yanked both it and his t-shirt over his head. His AirPods fell from his ears, bouncing to places unknown on the floor.

He didn’t care.

“No one gets to see this but me, Corazon,” he growled. He carded a hand through her hair to the back of her head where he yanked her forward. He swallowed her squeak as his lips captured hers. She fell against his body; her hands trapped between them. His tongue licked her lips and when she opened for him, he darted forward. He plundered her mouth chasing an acidic taste with a hint of bubbly… fruity… as if she’d been drinking a glass of wine. He had images of dribbling the wine on her body and licking it off.

His hands traced down her back; his palm rough against her soft skin. He cupped her ass and pressed her against his hard cock still confined in his jeans. Her arms broke free from between them to wrap around his neck, twisting in his hair. He felt her shift against him and he lifted her effortlessly in his arms. Her legs wrapping around his waist.

“Damian,” she moaned against his lips. “Fuck me…” She nipped his bottom lip then ran her tongue over it to soothe the sting.

“I got something better for you…” Damian carried her further into the room and turned toward the right to enter the bedroom. He’d check out the room tomorrow. He laid her down on the comforter from the earlier photo. ‘Maybe not,’ he thought staring down at her.

Her hair spread against the blanket. Her pupils blown wide in desire. A red hue of arousal on her cheeks. Full breasts on display, a size larger after three pregnancies. Her nipples erect and enticing beckoning him to take one in his mouth. His eyes trailed down her stomach, softer now, to the small triangle patch of light brown curls. Her legs parted under his gaze revealing her glistening folds.

Like a starving man faced with a buffet he fell to his knees on the floor. He ran his hands up her legs. His fingers light over the skin drawing goosebumps. Up over her knees to her thighs. The skin so soft beneath his touch.

“Damian…” His name fell from her lips like a plea.

The cadence entered his body touching every dark recess before wrapping around his cock. The breathy moan from between her lips had him reaching down and frantically ripping down his zipper to free his cock from his briefs. He wrapped his hand around the hard flesh and squeezed. Hard. He groaned, tossing his head back. A bead of cum appeared on the tip and he breathed to ward off his orgasm.

With his orgasm staved off for now Damian opened his eyes catching sight of Ali leaning up on one elbow her face full of want and desire. The hunger in her eyes had him groaning. “The way you make me feel Corazon,” he whispered as he parted her legs. He hooked his arms around her thighs and pulled her closer to the edge of the bed. Closer to his mouth.

Damian placed a kiss on the inside of her thigh and Ali shivered as his beard scratched the delicate skin. “Oh Damian…” the words fell from her lips as her eyes drifted close.

“I haven’t even started yet.” Damian smirked. He took pity on his wife – and himself by lowering his head and licking a stripe straight up her center. Tanginess burst on his tongue and he moaned, pressing his face closer.

Short licks at her entrance before moving up to her clit. His tongue circled the bundle of nerves, flicking the button, drawing soft cries from Ali. Back down through her folds to her entrance his pressed his tongue deep inside.

“Damian…” Ali mewled, her hips undulating in the hold he still had on her thighs. Keeping her right where he wanted. Where she wanted. Her back arched as his tongue assaulted her clit again. His movements sure and knowing. He could always work her into a frenzy within minutes. Her hands fisted in the comforter beneath her, pulling the fabric.

A cry fell from her lips when he pressed two fingers deep inside her channel. They slid in without resistance. She been slick all evening since she watched him in the ring during his match on TV, his muscles rippling and glistening under the lights. Her thighs closed on his head.

“Let me at this pretty pussy Corazon,” Damian murmured as he pressed a hand on the inside of her thigh cocking her leg higher onto the bed, opening her up to him. “I can’t wait to sink my cock in you. You’re squeezing my fingers so well…you need me baby don’t you,” he pressed a kiss at the crease of her thigh.

“Yes,” Ali hissed. She reached down and grabbed his ponytail, the braided strands twisting in her hold. She wished his hair was free from the braids so she could tangle her fingers in it. “Please…”

“You beg so nicely.” He removed his fingers only to replace them with his tongue. He buried his face in her folds, his nose at her clit. He wiggled his tongue inside her. He licked between her folds to his clit. His tongue swirling around it, flicking over it. He pressed his fingers back inside her as her hand pressed his head closer. He knew she was close based on that hand.

Twisting his fingers he curled them up to the front wall, searching and finding the slightly rigid patch of skin. Ali’s breath hitched at the contact followed by a low moan. Pre-cum dribbled down his cock. He closed his lips around her clit and sucked. Ali’s hips came off the bed and he used his free hand to hold her in place.

It took another flick on his tongue and she came with a cry. Her hand had a stinging grip on his hair as she pressed his face into her pussy. Her hips jerked wildly as her body convulsed.

Damian slowed his fingers, moving them in and out of her in an almost lazy manner. He pressed soft kisses and gentle licks to her folds before letting his fingers slip from her opening. His cock so hard it was painful. A wet spot on his jeans where his cock leaked.

Raising up he pressed his face into her belly. He kissed the small pouch she carried. The extra ten pounds she always complained about in the mirror. The same pouch he loved so much.

Ali’s hand had relaxed her grip on his hair but her fingers started to move again. Soft little caresses against the short stubble of his faded haircut. He closed his eyes concentrating on those ministrations as they moved toward his cheek. When her other hand cupped the other side of his face and started lifting his head, he opened his eyes to meet hers. He grinned at the sated look on her face.

“Come up here,” Ali whispered.

Damian would follow her anywhere. He pushed to his feet, his knees protesting from the prolonged position.

Ali moaned seeing her husband’s cock jutting from his jeans. She reached out and wrapped a hand around the hard, hot flesh drawing a hiss from Damian. She glanced up through her eyelashes to see his head tossed back and his eyes shut. A look of pure bliss on his face.

She kept her strokes light and teasing. Her thumb took a swipe through the creamy liquid pooled on the tip. She brought her thumb to her mouth, sucking the digit in; tongue swirling over the pad. Her eyes drifted closed as the saltiness flavor burst on her tongue.

“Fuck,” Damian moaned watching Ali suck on her thumb where she collected a drop of his cum. He quickly kicked off his shoes and shucked his jeans and briefs down his legs. After removing his socks he stood tall with his cock in hand.

“Yes,” Ali breathed. Her mouth watered as she stared at her husband in all his naked glory. The broadness of his shoulders, into his powerfully toned chest. The tattoos covering sculpted arms from his wrists to his shoulders. The libra and skulls entwined piece on his right pec. The cross coming out of the flames on his left bleeding into a skull morphing into a lily flower. Her favorite piece on his body because it represented her and their children.

An exquisite piece with a lily (her favorite flower) coming out of the nose opening. Its petals going up and covering an entire eye socket. The only shown eye socket – just a black shadowed circle meshed so well it almost looked like a petal itself. The cheekbone defined so well it acted as another petal. Then it gave way to the teeth before the jawbone became petals once again. Their children’s names - in her loopy cursive – were written in each of the petals.

She drew her eyes away from his chest and downward; over the taunt abs with the hint of definition that came and went depending on his gym workout and dieting. The sexy v-line on either side of his hips that made her want to fall to her knees and do his bidding when they’d peek out of low slung jeans on his hips. She always thought it was a travesty his ring gear covered the sexy Adonis belt.

Her eyes followed the line her tongue has traced so many times before to his cock – hard and red still grasped in his hand. The area completely shaved. The skin perfectly smooth. His fingers languidly moving up and down. She drew her lip between her teeth when his thumb circled the tip collecting the drop of cum pooled at the slit before massaging it against his length with his movements. Her thighs closed as she rubbed them together looking for friction; her pussy clenched around emptiness.

His balls were drawn up tight beneath his shaft, telling her how close he was to coming. They were heavy and full and she felt a gush of fluid between her thighs at the thought of his virile cum filling her, coating her womb.

A white hot need shot through her. Her mind clouded as arousal built. Her fingers tingled and her body grew hot. Wetness slicked her thighs and saturated the blanket beneath her.

Her eyes hit his thighs – muscular and powerful. She wanted to spread her legs on either side of his thigh and press her pussy to the hard muscle and ride until she came.

Damian nearly came watching the different emotions flicker across Ali’s face as her eyes roamed his body. He preened under her perusal, tightening his muscles, making them more defined. His pecs rippled. The veins on his arms more pronounced.

“Damian… please,” her voice was rough and full of need. She scooted away from the edge and laid back on the bed. Her legs parted in invitation and her fingers ran through the soft brown curls framing her aching slit.

“Corazon… Baby girl…you have no idea how much I need you” Damian placed his hands on the bed as he bent over and kissed her delicate ankle. He didn’t linger as he moved his lips up her leg, placing a kiss to the inside of her knee. It drew a whimper from her and cum leaked from his cock at the sound painting the comforter.

He bypassed her cunt – slick and swollen from her first orgasm. The heady scent of her arousal invaded his nostrils and he breathed deeply causing a full body shiver to course through him. He nuzzled her belly. His tongue tracing the feint stretch marks spidering on the skin.

Continuing on his upward path, his nose lightly traced up her stomach. His mouth pressing ghosting kisses on the soft kiss, leaving behind a trace of wetness to dry in the air. Her nipples were drawn in stiff peaks and he took one in his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the hardened pebble. She arched into his mouth as her hand twisted in the braided locks.

“You gotta… take these out,” she gasped as he sucked her nipple. His teeth nipped and then there was a long swipe with a flattened tongue over the flesh to soothe.

“Tomorrow,” Damian murmured against her skin as he drew her other nipple into his mouth, sucking gently.

“Damian…” Ali’s hand clutched his bicep; her nails digging into the tattooed skin. She dug the nails of her other hand into his scalp pushing her breast further into his mouth even as her back arched up. Pleasure zinged through her, pooling deep in her belly. Her pussy clenched and released milking the emptiness, wishing he’d shove his cock deep into her.

Before Damian had a chance to latch onto the spot where her neck met shoulder and that place right behind her ear that always made her cry out, Ali’s hands were cupping either side of his face. She drug his lips to hers.

She moaned into his mouth when his weeping cock painted her thigh. His tongue wasted no time entering her mouth tangling with hers; each fighting for dominance. It slid against hers and she pressed her hips wantonly against him surrendering to his touch. The movement seductive as she sought pleasure from his body.

“Damian,” she whispered breathlessly. She felt lightheaded and dizzy. Drowning in need. “Please…”

Damian pushed up on his knees, a hand on his cock giving it a quick hard squeeze at the base. He stared down at her, breathing heavily. His got impossibly harder twitching in his hand. She was spread out before him like an offering. Her hair fanned out on the comforter. His fingers itched to bury in the soft silky tresses. Her eyes blown wide in arousal. The black nearly absorbing the green he loved so much. Her lips – swollen from his kisses – parted as her breaths came out heavy. He watched, transfixed, as her tongue came out to lick along the bottom lip, coating it in wetness. Her skin a red hue from her cheeks sweeping south over her chest.

He reached out and traced a finger down until he got to her stomach. Her belly twitch beneath his touch and he spread both his hands over her abdomen. In a blink his mind morphed the soft, pillowy pouch to full and round with child.

His child.

“Dios Corazon, te necesito,” Damian moaned. His hands ran down either of her thighs pushing them further apart as he moved closer.

“Take me Damian…” Ali begged. “Please. Now.” Tilting her hips up in offering.

Damian wrapped his hand around his cock and ran it through Ali’s wet folds before lining up and pressing forward. His eyes closed and he groaned as he entered her body, her pussy gripping him. He sank to the hilt, his hips pressed against hers.

Ali clenched around him drawing a low moan from deep in his throat. He tossed his head back, his eyes clenched tightly as he breathed through his teeth trying to keep from coming. She was tight and warm wrapped around him.

He opened his eyes and stared down at her. “Corazon I’m barely hanging on…”

“Good. I need you to fuck me… right now.”

Damian groaned at her words. He pulled from her body, his eyes watching his cock appear, slicked with her creamy juices. He drew his bottom lip between his teeth as he sunk back in.

“It’s all I’ve been thinking about all day…”

Damian fell onto his elbows over her. “Corazon you have no idea what I’ve been thinking about all day.” He seized her lips in a hard kiss. His tongue entered her mouth, demanding.

Ali wrapped her arms around his massive shoulders pulling him closer. Her skin tingled and her core flooded as his tongue stroked hers. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper. She broke the kiss on a moan. His cock driving deep inside her. “Tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“What were you thinking about?”

Damian groaned and buried his face in Ali’s neck as his mind exploded with images of her pregnant belly. His arm muscles bulged as he kept his full weight from crushing her. His hips pistoned in and out sharply. His balls smacking against her skin. They were drawn tight to his body, ready to explode.

“Tell me,” Ali whispered nipping his ear, drawing the lobe between her lips. The movement caused his hips to move faster and she released a heady moan in his ear. Her nails raked down his back leaving red streaks in their place.

“I wanna breed you… I wanna fill you with my cum.” Damian sucked a bruising kiss on her neck. “Plant my seed deep in your womb. Watch you grow big with my baby.”

Ali felt the gush of liquid at his words, coating Damian’s cock. Her eyes darkened with lust. The thought of his cum coating her pussy, painting her womb ignited her insides. Her belly growing round and full with Damian’s child.

“I wanna roll you over and fuck you from behind. Keep fucking you all night long until I’ve fucked a baby into you…”

Ali tightened her legs around Damian, stopping his movements. He was trapped deep inside her. When he lifted his head to meet her eyes, she saw some trepidation like he’d overstepped a line. She fisted his hair and brought his lips to hers in a bruising kiss. “Do it,” she whispered, their eyes meeting once again. She saw his eyes flare with desire and she clenched around him. “Breed me, Damian. Put a baby in me…”

Damian moved like lightning. He pulled out with a moan and helped his wife roll over to her hands and knees. The moan he released was harsh and visceral staring at his wife. Her ass and pussy on display. Her pussy lips red and swollen from his thrusts. A slickness coating them and her thighs.

He moved behind her. His corse hairy thighs pressing against her soft skin. He didn’t waste a moment. He thrust back in sinking fully into her. Their moans were loud and long at the invasion. He hoped no one was on the other side of the wall but he was beyond caring.

He withdrew once again watching his cum coated cock pull from her body. The way her lips seem to clench around him as to stop him from leaving.

“Give me a baby Damian,” Ali moaned tossing her head back.

“Fuck yeah,” Damian breathed through his teeth. His pace was harsh and brutal; unrelenting. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room mixed the creaking of the bed. “I’m gonna fill you full of my cum. Then I’m gonna keep my cock buried deep inside of you so my cum has no choice but to fill your womb.”

She cried out in pleasure, rocking on her knees to meet his thrusts. Her thighs and arms quaked; her muscles quivering. Her pussy nearly purring with the assault. “Damian…” she chanted her husband’s name as if she was sending a prayer. Maybe she was. His fingers gripped her hips with bruising force. It sent another bolt of lightning through her flooding her core.

She spread her knees further apart and gasped as his balls slapped against her clit with each thrust. Tears built in the corner of her eyes. “Oh…I…Damian…” she whimpered against the tight coiling in her belly. The feeling so big and powerful it scared her. Her hands fisted in the comforter; nails digging into the fabric.

“I got you,” Damian’s voice blanketed her trembling body. Her safety net. Her protector. “Let go for me.”

“With… you…” Her voice desperate trying to hold her orgasm at bay.

“Always.”

It was like a spring breaking free. The tension inside her snapped and she came with a loud wail. Light burst behind her clenched eyelids. She trembled as lightning danced through her body, sending tingles up and down her arms and legs. Her pussy clenched around him as she gushed, coating his cock with her essence.

“Ah… ah…” Damian’s face contorted in pleasure as Ali’s pussy clenched around him as she withered and arched on his cock as her orgasm worked through her. He snapped his hips one final time sending his cock deep inside her. He came with a roar. Rope after rope of his hot thick white sperm shooting from his throbbing cock deep inside her pussy.

Ali moaned at the feel of her husband’s sperm releasing inside her, coating her walls. She lifted her head toward the ceiling. Her messy hair showering down her back, sticking to the sweat soaked skin. Her pussy spasmed with each twitch of Damian’s cock inside her.

Damian’s body trembled as the last of his cum released inside of wife. A full body shudder as his muscles turned to goo, weakened by the force of his orgasm. It took a considerable amount of effort to unlock his fingers from Ali’s hips. He pulled out of his wife with a groan, watching as his cum dribbled out after.

With two fingers he pressed his cum back inside drawing another moan. Her pussy clenched around his fingers in mini spasms as she recovered. Damian pressed a kiss to the small of Ali’s back before he collapsed on his back beside her.

His heart hammered against his rib cage. Every so often his muscles would twitch as electrons starting firing, trying to get his body back online. His breaths came out in gasps, his lungs heaving in exertion. His body shone with a sheen of sweat. Heat radiated off his body. He wondered if his legs would even be able to hold him up in the shower.

The shower was forgotten when the mattress shifted and Ali’s head hit his shoulder. Her own breath coming out in gasps hot and sticky across his skin. Her body pressed against his side and her leg entwining with his. He wrapped his arm around her back holding her more firmly to his side. His hand rested on her hip. His fingers lightly caressing the skin.

“Corazon, you’re gonna kill me before the week is out.”

Ali hummed and pressed her lips to his chest, right over that lily flower tattoo. She tilted her head up and Damian turned his head to meet hers. Their lips collided – softly this time. Slowly their lips moved together. His arm crossed his body and she felt his calloused hand cup her cheek gently. His fingertips just breaching her hair. Their mouths opened and their tongues mated. The stroke soft and smooth. Lazy. The furious desperation from moments ago satisfied for now.

Their lips parted and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I love you.”

Ali’s eyes blinked opened. Light filtered in from a crack in the curtains but she couldn’t distinguish the time. Her phone was plugged in on the nightstand but she would have to leave the warm cocoon she was currently enveloped in.

Damian lay behind her, his arms wrapped around her. His body pressed against hers. His face tucked into her neck. She could feel the soft tuffs of hair blowing gently on her skin with each breath he took.

She shifted. Both her body and Damian protested the movement. Her muscles deliciously used after last night’s lovemaking. From the desperate first time to the needy time in the shower after hands strayed and lingered to the slow and lazy way he slipped inside her as the first feint glow of sunrise hinted.

Damian’s hold tightened on her. A small nose of protest from the back of his throat as he pulled her more securely to him, snuggling against her body.

Speaking of delicious…

His hard cock pressed into her ass. Twitching over one globe leaving a string of wetness behind. She bit her lip and fought against the desire to press her ass into his crotch.

Wetness once again pooled at her center, slicking her lower lips. She pressed her thighs together, keeping the ministrations minute so not to disturb Damian and find some type of relief. His hand lay lax against her belly and she had designs about pushing it down until his fingers pressed between her folds; until those calloused fingers rubbed her clit.

She wondered if she kept the movements slow if he’d wake up or if he’d finger her in his sleep. She arched against his cock almost subconsciously. The hard flesh pulsed against the soft globe of her ass cheek. What was he thinking about to be hard right now?

‘I wanna breed you.’

His words from last night echoed in Ali’s mind. God they were so hot. Something she never thought she’d think. Did she have a breeding kink? Did she have this inane desire to be breed like an animal? Was it the thought of getting pregnant that caused her insides to turn to liquid?

Or was it the thought of actually being pregnant that made her burst with one of the most intensive orgasms she’s ever had?

Was it the want of having another baby with Damian leading the charge? Of her stomach growing full and around. Of feeling the little flutterings and kicks. Of nurturing a tiny human being with her body. Creating another little mixture of her and Damian?

A heavy dose of want coursed through her. One that had her pressing herself back on Damian’s cock. Her hips gyrating against him.

It didn’t take long before the hand on her stomach tensed as Damian’s body came to life as she pulled it from sleep. His body hardened behind her. His hips moving with hers. Lips ghosted over her neck as his fingers dipped dangerously close to her center.

“Someone woke up feeling a little frisky.” His voice was low and sleep filled in her ear. Goosebumps broke out over her arms.

Ali hummed in answer, cocking her head to allow him better access to her neck. His teeth nipped her ear and drew her lobe between his teeth and suckled. She moaned and settled her hand over his, pushing him toward her aching center. They ran through her slickness together, coating their fingers with her arousal.

A moan escaped as his pressed a finger inside her.

“You’re already so wet for me,” Damian breathed as he ran that slick finger through her folds to her clit.

“Damian,” she moaned. Her eyes falling shut. “Breed me…”

Damian’s fingers stilled at his words and he lifted his head to stare at his wife. Unsure if he heard correctly.

Ali could feel the embarrassment on her cheeks but she turned her head to meet Damian’s eyes. “If you’re serious about wanting another baby, I won’t take my pill today.”

“You’re serious?” Damian’s eyes searched hers looking for any small trace of doubt. He found nothing. He slowly began to smile.

“Breed me Damian. Fuck a baby into me.”

With a groan his lips met hers.

[antivanlights]

I have WRITTEN MORE about this concept. It's like 1k words so I'm adding a cut on this one too... Oh, Illario.

Alright, so I’m thinking that in this scenario Illario would obviously go through a rollercoaster of emotions. At first, he could just play it cool, flirty and stupid casual. Their “thing” happened like 8 years ago (I picture my Rook to be around 30), so they’re basically total strangers now anyway, right? Their interactions are brief and they dance around each other with ease. He doesn’t particularly care about Rook, nor their plans immediately. Figures they won’t get very far, certainly not with his possessed, traumatized disaster of a cousin tagging along. Fighting against gods? He’s giving the group a month or two, tops.

MEANWHILE: Imagine how Rook would feel by falling for a Dellamorte again. I’m sure they wanted to bash their head in against the fish tank in their room upon realizing how totally smitten they were. Perhaps the first few flirts were playful - just a Crow following the script. But as they continued to get to know Lucanis, Rook realized how different he is - how lovely. He’s funny, he’s sweet, he fights really cool doing all sorts of stabby flips... but he’s also hurting and he needs support and Rook wants to do everything, anything they can to help and AARRGH! Now all the flirts are real and Rook can imagine a life with Lucanis while Viago’s familiar voice is echoing in their head: Idiot!

Back in Treviso Illario is actually smug, entertained even when he discovers that Rook and Lucanis have something going on. “Ah, my cousin seems to have taken a liking to my leftovers.” On top of that, a part of him is making it all about himself. Is Rook entertaining Lucanis to get back at me? How fun.

But unfortunately for Illario, the bond between his cousin and Rook is very much real and he is NOT a part of the equation in any shape or form. Rook’s team keeps securing victory after victory, and his cousin is looking more alive than ever. Demon aside (Why isn’t anyone complaining more about the demon? Hello?), Lucanis is now surrounded by friends, regarded as a funny and generous companion (What?), and he and Rook keep giving each other these looks. So now he’s feeling jealous. And a tiny part of him is terrified of the thought that all this happiness and glory could have been his. What if he hadn’t toyed around with Rook? What if things had somehow worked out and he had been the one to join Rook’s team? Would he be smiling like Lucanis? Would he be on a completely different path? A better one?

He catches Lucanis glaring daggers at him from the distance one day. Does he know? He probably knows. (I picture Rook telling him about the disaster with Illario, and Lucanis telling them about the embarrassing thing with Viago in return one evening over wine and snacks.)

So when his schemes fail and he falls to his knees, bloody and disgraced in front of his cousin, he accepts Rook’s disdain. And yet…

SCENE!

Rook entered the heavily guarded wing of the Dellamorte villa, nodding at the guards as they made their way to Illario’s room. He was being kept at the villa for questioning, but Rook figured that this was also another way of protecting him. That said, they were keenly aware of the magical wards set at every door and window – most likely set to incapacitate or eliminate Illario if he tried something.

Pushing open the door to his room, Rook stepped inside. Illario was sitting at the edge of his bed, just staring out towards the balcony he could not step out into. Upon hearing the door and the accompanying steps, he turned to watch as Rook casually made their way inside. Rook closed the door behind them and leaned against it. Rook spoke first, arms crossed against their chest.

“Won’t lie, what you did was horrific and they should’ve probably cut you down on the spot.”

Illario threw himself back, laying on the bed while his feet dangled off the edge. “Ugh, is that all you came here to say?”

The was a brief pause before Rook let out a breath. “Nah. What I wanted to say is that as horrific as it was, you were exactly who we were trained to be. I get it, I guess…” Rook turned their face to look towards the balcony before they continued. “My point is… You can make a choice now.”

Illario audibly scoffed, propping himself up on elbows to look at Rook. “Are you suggesting I can still be redeemed, Rook?”

Rook shrugged but did not meet his gaze. “You’re still alive, aren’t you?”

Illario opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. Rook met his gaze and they remained like that for a few seconds.

“I’ll get going now, have a meeting. I’m usually around if you need someone to talk to. As a friend. Just let your guards know and they’ll find me.” Rook quickly turned around and exited to room, the door shutting gently behind them.

Illario lay there, half-stunned as he stared at the door. “Friend?”

END SCENE!

So after that I feel like Rook, Lucanis, Viago and Teia will continue their work to reform the Crows into something less… exploitative? They’re an assassin’s guild, sure, but the constant infighting, cruelty, and awful training/recruiting tactics made for a terrible business model in long need of change.

At some point, they’ll likely let Illario out of his containment unit and just tell him to help out with a ton of things (under careful supervision). I’d like to think that at this point, he’d start to come in regular contact with all the companions and members from their allied factions. Eventually, he’d have the opportunity to forge genuine friendships. Maybe one day he’ll pull through a tough situation and save everyone’s asses.

Later on, he’d be able to make a choice for himself, for his future - be it within or out of the Crows. Though he’d probably have to fake his own death and forge a new identity to get away from it all. But I’m sure the team would help.

Alright that’s all I got this time. Thanks for joining me in this pit of lunacy.

Imagine how wild it’d be if Illario were Crow Rook’s ex. I know it’s crazy but listen: the drama of it.

Full conspiracy-theory level rambling under the cut.

Imagine Rook, long before they got their nickname, working their way through their training, a proud new member of House de Riva. They’re talented, but reckless and naïve. Viago does what he can to instill discipline and wisdom on his charge, but he’s not a miracle worker.

At the same time, Illario is perfecting his skills, mapping out his ambitions. They meet out of pure coincidence, but Illario’s attention immediately clings to them – what a pretty, new toy he has found. His charms work and a young Rook is dazzled. Perhaps its their naïveté, perhaps they’re still trying to find some good in the dark alleys of Treviso. Unfortunately for them, it’s over as soon as it starts.

Rook is promptly left alone to their thoughts – heart broken and personality hardened. “I have better things to do. Bigger plans to follow.” Illario will say as he walks out on them, content with having gotten to play with the pretty toy, content with having broken it. “We have never met. You understand, right?” With that, he will leave, never waiting for a response.

Now, Viago won’t know the full picture, but he will understand that something happened. He’s no stranger to situationships and he will feel that this one was bad. From there on, he will make sure that his protégé’s business never crosses paths with that of the Dellamorte’s. Rook’s career in the Crows will continue with them never coming into contact with anyone from the House – for better or worse.

Years later, Rook is in front of Caterina Dellamorte. Rook and Illario play their parts: they have never met. Viago will play along. It’s none of my business, he’ll think.

But now imagine, Lucanis is alive and well - he's even reached an understanding with his demon. He has found true companionship and love with Rook – and its real. By the Maker, it’s real. Illario can see how they look at each other, how they fight together. Their smiles, their discrete touches. By the end of their adventures, Lucanis has also gone and freed their home, saved the world and secured the seat of First Talon.

Meanwhile, Illario sits alone in a room on the far edge of the villa. Marked as a traitor, completely disgraced. All his plans failed. He’s angry and he’s jealous and he can remember how Rook feels under his touch.

And all this misery? It was dealt by his own hand.

[creepycranberry]

Big Black Car- 3

Rafe Cameron x Maybank reader

2

Warnings: slow burn, L*ke, topper is very much noncanon compliant (he’s like a mix of topper and Austin’s character in IDDI), alcohol, abuse, parental death, not proofread, kook/pogue bullshit, swearing, w*rd, let me know about anything else.

•••••••••

“Just let me get you a new one.” Topper insists and you groan.

“I don’t even swim, why do I need a swimsuit?” You argue, Tired of this conversation. Topper dragged you to a mall on the mainland after going through your wardrobe and determining that you have nothing suitable to wear to his parents wedding anniversary party.

“Because one day you might want to.” Topper says.

“I’ve gone this long without swimming, I’m sure I can make it through however long I’m staying with you.”

“Come on, I’ll teach you how to swim-“

“Topper.” You warn.

“No- no, come on. You can learn how, just for-for emergency purposes.”

“Emergency purposes.” You scoff, skimming through racks of clothing, “this one?”

“Hate the color.” He responds and you look at the dress once more and nod, “just let me get you the swimsuit and if you use it, you use it. No harm no foul, right?””

You exhale through your nose and give him a pointed look. He gives you an exaggerated pout and you concede.

“Fine.”

He pumps his fist in the air like his team just won a football game. You hold up another dress, it’s dark blue with ribbony straps, it was classic, simple.

“That one.” Topper basically decides for you, snatching it out of your hands when you go to look at the price tag.

He pays and drags you into a swimwear store, forcing you to go through the selection of bathing suits until you find a simple black two piece with enough coverage that you were confident your tits wouldn’t fall out of it.

Topper again took it from you and once again paid before you could even look at the price tag.

You liked being around him more. You haven’t really ever had an older sibling or anyone to protect you like one. JJ tried for a while but you both when to different schools and therefore your social problems felt separate. You didn’t want him to ever see you as weak. Topper was the closest thing you had to a true protector since your father died. He was your closest relationship aside from the one you had with your brother. You and JJ didn’t need to be around each other all of the time, you liked different things and people and so your lives were very separate but that didn’t make you any less close.

Topper just happened to be able to be there when you needed him and that resulted in this relationship that was very close and comfortable.

Topper had always had Rafe though. Rafe was his best friend. They knew each other in the way boys knew each other and that was that, they had an unspoken love for each other even though you would never hear them say that they loved each other.

For years Topper tried to tell you that Rafe wasn’t as bad or as rude as he came off, you obviously never believed him because why would you. Rafe had never given you any reason to believe he was anything more than he seemed.

He was an entitled prick who couldn’t care less about anyone else. He was the picture of first world problems and the apathy of the upper class.

But you found yourself second guessing that depiction of him more and more.

A few days after going shopping with Topper he’s finally managed to convince you to get into the pool so he can at least attempt to teach you how to swim. He had just managed to get you to step off of the stairs when Rafe walks through the garden gate into the backyard.

“No. I’m done, did enough for the day.” You say, moving back towards the stairs. Topper lunges after you, wrapping his arms around your middle and lifting you as you hit his arm repeatedly.

“You’re doing this.” Topper says, setting you down in the water so your feet touch the ground. The water is to your shoulders and you stare at Topper with a look that can only be described as pitiful wet kitten after a bath.

“No. Not with him here.” You argue, finally acknowledging Rafes presence.

“What is she not doing with me here?” Rafe asks and Topper sighs deeply, his hands holding onto the sides of your arms in case you attempt to escape again.

“She doesn’t-“

“Topper!” You exclaim but he puts a hand over your mouth.

“She doesn’t know how to swim so I’m trying to teach her.” Topper tells him. He shrieks when you bite down hard on his hand and dart away from him, aiming for the stairs.

You’re able to get up onto dry ground for one glorious second before strong arms are effortlessly catching you.

“Rafe! Put me down!”

He goes down the steps in the pool and sets you down in the shallow end, guarding the stairs. You expect him to make some smart remark about you not being able to swim when you live on in island, but instead he looks at you in total seriousness, his face solemn, “you need to know how to swim.”

“I’ve gotten this far-“

“Yeah, and you’re lucky you have.” He snaps, his voice raising and you flinch. You can feel your pulse quicken.

“I don’t need to hear anything about luck from you.” You shoot back and he rolls his eyes.

“Walk to Topper.” Rafe commands and you scoff.

“I don’t have to listen to you.”

“Walk to Topper and do things his way, or stay over here and we’ll do things my way.” He shrugs and you frown at him.

“I don’t need to do either, I can float just fine.”

“Yeah well, you live on an island, one bad storm and floating just fine will end up with you literally dead in the water.” Rafe retorts, his face morphing into surprise when your frown grows deeper and your hands start to shake.

You’re either about to punch him in the face or cry, and either outcome makes him incredibly wary. He automatically feels guilty when your eyes well up with tears and you fold your arms in front of yourself. You suddenly look so much smaller to him.

Topper stands still, watching your interaction unfold, prepared to either get the first aid kit or make Rafe go home.

“I don’t mean to be extreme or anything, I just don’t want you to end up hurt or worse because no one taught you how to swim.” Rafe says, surprising both you and Topper with his softness. It’s limited to his voice, his eyes are unreadable and his body language is stiff.

“Someone did teach me to swim.” You say resentfully, your voice sounds like you’re going to cry and for some reason that makes something in Rafes chest go tight, “I think I’m done for the day actually, I uh, I’m pretty tired.”

You walk past Rafe to get to the pool steps and this time he doesn’t stop you. Topper tries to grab your hand and you move at the last second. When he looks back to Rafe, he has his eyes trained on the pool in front of him, like you’re still standing there.

“You didn’t know, man-”

Before he can finish his sentence Rafe is halfway to the garden gate.

•••

Topper showers loudly. He hums in the shower, opens and closes the door loudly, he knocks over shampoo bottles like a bumbling idiot. You wake up most mornings to him humming repetitively or slamming the shower door.

You turn over in bed and face your door. The dress you had gotten for the anniversary party is hung up on it, still in its garment bag. It hadn’t been there when you went to sleep. Topper probably put it there to remind you it was today and that you had to get out of bed at some point.

You left the house for work and that was it. You didn’t want to speak to topper, and you definitely didn’t want to run into Rafe.

You were embarrassed by how you reacted. You hated that it happened so long ago and it could still affect you like this. You felt weak and in front of Topper is one thing but in front of Rafe?

You felt like seeing him again could kill you.

For the first time in days Topper dared to enter your room, he had something on his hands and ignored the face you made at him as he got closer.

“I know I fucked up, I get it, but your skin looks like a croissant.” He starts, kneeling onto the bed and holding his hands in front of your face as you tried to push him away, you couldn’t help but laugh a little, “I washed my hands, I promise.”

He’s laughing as he tries to wrestle the moisturizer onto your skin, “this is supposed to be relaxing!” He gasps and you lightly kick him in the side and he makes an odd sound before tumbling off the bed. You sit up to check on him and you can’t help but have a smile on your face, “I’m sorry. I mean it. I shouldn’t have pushed you, especially once Rafe got there I just- I want you to be safe.”

You know he’s being sincere. You don’t want to let him off the hook so easily but you can’t help it, he’s your best friend.

“Just- just no more pushing. Especially not around Rafe. I never want him seeing me cry ever again.”

“If I have to blind him I will.” Topper says, completely straight faced. You smile at him and reach to grab his wrists, pushing them into his face and rubbing your moisturizer into his skin, “okay, that’s fair.” He says before sticking his tongue out, “ith on my tongue”

He gags for a few minutes and you laugh as he runs to the bathroom to rinse his mouth out.

A few hours later you're in the passenger seat of this jeep, fiddling with the pleats on the fabric of your dress and staring out the window.

You had never really gone to the country club, you didn’t really have any reason to. Your dad used to take you when you were smaller, he would be there to see friends of his or do a business thing and you would be attached to his hip, listening quietly.

It didn’t look much different than you remembered.

Almost immediately upon arrival you and Topper are greeted by at least fifty people who know Topper's parents. When asked for your name you panic and Topper swoops in, he introduces you to various different people. But he tells them your fathers last name. Not yours.

Eventually you make it away from the crowd and find your names sat next to each other on place cards on the table. You both sit there and talk, pointedly avoiding making eye contact with anyone else so you don’t end up having to make any more small talk.

Topper looks at his phone periodically, deflecting when you ask what he’s doing. Eventually he gets up to go get drinks and you look at your phone for the first time since arriving.

JJ: have you seen Luke lately?

You furrow your eyebrows and you’re about to respond and tell him that you didn’t know where Luke was and that you didn’t really give a shit if he was dead or alive but Topper comes back and sits down.

“That was qui- Rafe.” Sitting in front of you is not Topper, Rafe sets a glass down in front of you and you eye it warily.

“It’s ginger ale, peaches.” Rafe assures you and you nod, taking a sip, “how are you?”

“Fine, thanks.” You respond and Rafe stares into the space between the two of you.

“I didn’t me-“

“Don’t. I’m not mad at you, don’t apologize cause we’ll both hate it.”

Rafe presses his lips together and takes a sip of his drink, “if you aren’t mad then why won’t you talk to me? Or look me in the eye?”

You make eye contact with him for the first time since he sat down. It’s almost a challenge, “keep looking me in the eyes and I won’t ask you any questions you don’t want to answer” And the strange thing is that you don’t want to look away. You want to sink into his eyes and never have to hear another voice again.

“You’re pretty.” He smiles, breaking eye contact so fast it almost startles you, “I like your dress.”

You blink at him for a moment, the words taking a minute to find their way to your brain, “oh uh, thank you, I like it too. You look…”

“Handsome?” He deadpans and you roll your eyes.

“Like less of an asshole than you are.” You smile and he returns it. You like how his eyes crinkle when he smiles. It makes them look shinier.

“I’ll take what I can get.” He shrugs, downing the last of his drink, “I understand why you reacted that way.”

The abrupt change from easy going conversation has you avoiding eye contact with him again, “do you?”

“Uh, yeah. I uh, we’re in similar boats in the parent department.” He clarifies, giving you a knowing look that gives way to more than you thought to know.

“Oh.” You mutter, thumb sliding across the condensation on the side of your glass, “it really is okay, I was mad I was just-“

“Embarrassed?”

“I guess. Um, I mean crying in front of Topper is one thing but I don’t think I’ll ever know you well enough t-“

“I understand. I just um, I didn’t mean to upset you or anything I don’t uh, I don’t tend to think before I do… anything.” He tells you, eyes squinting like he’s having to put in work to admit he was in the wrong.

“Really? You seem pretty purposeful to me.” You retort and he rolls his eyes, meeting yours for more than just a fleeting moment and suddenly you’re sinking into them again.

“You think so?” He smirks.

Before you can come up with some smart come back a hand is on your shoulder and you look up to see Toppers mother smiling at you, “honey, i need you to come out front we’ve got a-“

“I said I wanna see my daughter!” A slurred voice cuts through the music and chatter of the party.

You stand so quickly that your chair falls over as you try and locate the voice. You find him outside of the door yelling at the person in charge of the guest list.

“Luke.” Your stern voice cuts through his drunken tirade and he looks up.

“Hey, sweet pea! I was just trying to explain to this-” he’s interrupted by your hand gripping his arm and dragging him away from the party

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t find you, and I heard this was going on and that boy you’re always hanging out with was gonna be here, I connected the dots.” He shrugs.

“Leave.” You order.

“Oh, come on. You don’t mean that.”

“I do, get the hell away from here and away from me or so help me god I will-”

“You’ll what?” He laughs and his drunken affection turns right back to loathing, “what’s your prissy ass gonna do to me? I ain’t scared of you. Sitting up there in that fancy club in your fancy dress with the handsome boys in well tailored suits? Give me a break. You’ve gone full fucking kook. You didn’t even scare me before you started traipsing around with those boys. You think you scare me now?” He laughs.

“Those boys have nothing to do with any of this.”

“You think I should warn them?” He starts, stumbling slightly and leaning on a tree for support, “think I should warn those boys that you’re a whore just like your mother? That they shouldn’t hope for any long term anything with you cause you’re not worth th-”

You punch him in the face with speed you didn’t know you were capable of. He holds his nose as blood slowly starts to seep through the cracks of his fingers.

“You’re no better than her Luke. In fact you’re worse. You’re an abusive alcoholic hick who never amounted to anything and who couldn’t even care for his own children. I’m not scared of you either.”

He slaps you across the face and you can feel the blood on your cheek as the wind hits it and makes it feel cool. You barely have time to respond before Luke tries for another but the hit never lands. Instead Topper is stood in front of you, holding Luke’s wrist.

“Mr. Maybank, I think it’s time for you to go home.” Toppers mothers voice rings out behind you.

“And why should I listen to you?” Luke steps forward, wobbling slightly.

“Hey kids, how about the two of you go inside and grab something to eat, they should start serving the cake soon.”

Topper guides you back up the hill. Rafe is standing behind Mrs. Thornton, he stands beside two security guards, his gaze meeting yours for a fleeting moment before you’re quickly whisked in the direction of the country club restrooms by Topper.

He doesn’t seem to care that he’s in the ladies room as you sit on the counter. He’s gently wipes the blood off your cheek, his voice quiet as he tells you to move your head to the side so he can see it better.

“That was one hell of a hit.” He says and you shake your head.

“Stung like a bitch.”

“No I meant the punch you threw at him.” Topper clarifies and you nod.

“I hope I broke his nose.” You sigh.

“Me too, kid.”

[obeymeshallwedateaddict]

Hello everyone!! This is the first lesson of the long awaited unofficial season 4 of Obey me Nightbringer written by yours truly <3

I will post lessons every 10 days.

I hope you enjoy it (it came out a little long but I hope it's not a problem)

Please make sure this finds other obey me lovers and people who don't want the series to end.

You can find more of my work here: Masterlist

@arie2faced wanted to be tagged so there you go!

Lesson 61: “Echoes of Change”

Preparations for the Grand Gala

The story begins with you and the brothers preparing for a grand event in the Devildom—the Infernal Gala, a highly anticipated celebration hosted by Diavolo to showcase unity and strength among the three realms. The brothers are busy with their individual tasks, and you help them throughout the day, making sure none of them are slacking off and checking the quality of their work.

Morning with Mammon

You find Mammon frantically trying to pick an outfit in his room, clothes scattered everywhere. He groans as he holds up a jacket, glaring at it like it personally offended him.

Mammon: “This stupid thing doesn’t fit right! What if I don’t look good enough? Diavolo’ll never let me hear the end of it!”

You: “You’re overthinking it, Mammon. You look great in anything.”

You pick up a sleek black jacket with gold trim from the pile and hold it up to him.

You: “Here, try this one. It suits you.”

Mammon grumbles but puts it on. When he turns to the mirror, his expression softens.

Mammon: “Huh. Guess it ain’t too bad… But y’know, it’s only ‘cause you picked it. You’ve got good taste.”

He pauses, scratching the back of his neck as he glances at you.

Mammon: “I dunno what I’d do without ya. Don’t tell the others, but… you’re my good luck charm, so stick close, alright?”

Afternoon with Leviathan

Levi is in his room, staring nervously at a stack of invitation cards. You peek in and see him pacing.

You: “Levi, what’s wrong?”

Leviathan: “It’s the Gala! There’s gonna be so many people there. What if I mess up? What if someone tries to talk to me and I freeze up?!”

You gently take his hands, grounding him.

You: “You’ll do great, Levi. And I’ll be there if you need me. We’re a team, remember?”

Levi calms down a little, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks.

Leviathan: “Y-Yeah, I guess you’re right. I mean, with you around, I don’t have to worry as much. You’re like my Player Two in this crazy multiplayer game called life.”

He hesitates, then smiles shyly.

Leviathan: “Thanks. I mean it. You’re, like… my favorite rare find.”

Library with Satan

Satan is in the library, scanning a shelf filled with ancient tomes. He looks up when you enter, a small smile playing on his lips.

Satan: “Perfect timing. I was looking for this.”

He hands you a book bound in emerald green, the title in golden script: "The Legends of the Infernal Gala."

Satan: “I thought you might like to know more about the Gala’s history. It’s fascinating, really—did you know it started as a peace treaty celebration?”

You sit together, flipping through the pages. At one point, your fingers brush, and Satan pauses.

Satan: “You always surprise me. You’re curious, thoughtful, and unafraid to stand by us—even when things get complicated.”

He leans closer, his voice softer.

Satan: “I hope you know how much that means to me."

Dressing Room with Asmodeus

Asmo is in his room, surrounded by a dizzying array of outfits. He twirls in front of the mirror, striking a pose.

Asmodeus: “Tell me, which one screams ‘absolutely irresistible’? This one, or…”

He switches to another outfit, beaming at you.

You: “They’re both amazing, Asmo. You always look stunning.”

Asmodeus: (grinning) “Oh, you always know just what to say. But you know what? I think I’ll wear something that complements you. After all, we’ll be the center of attention together.”

He steps closer, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

Asmodeus: “You have this way of making me feel… special. Like I don’t need to try so hard, because I’m enough just as I am. Thank you for that."

Kitchen with Beelzebub

Beel is in the kitchen, preparing snacks for the event. You help him arrange platters of food, the smell of freshly baked bread filling the air.

Beelzebub: “Thanks for helping. I usually just eat everything, but it feels nice to make something for others.”

As you finish, Beel offers you a piece of chocolate from the tray, his expression soft.

Beelzebub: “You’re always looking out for us. It makes me want to do the same for you.”

He smiles, his usual straightforward honesty shining through.

Beelzebub: “You’re like family to me… but also more than that. I’m glad you’re here.”

Attic with Belphegor

Belphie is lying on a pile of blankets in the attic, staring at the ceiling. You join him, and he shifts to make room.

Belphegor: “The Gala’s gonna be exhausting. Too many people, too much noise. But at least you’ll be there.”

He closes his eyes, his voice soft.

Belphegor: “You’re the only one who makes all this bearable, you know. Stay with me a while. Just you and me, away from everything else.”

You rest beside him, and for a moment, the world feels quiet.

Study with Lucifer

Lucifer is in his study, reviewing event schedules and security measures. He looks up as you enter, his expression softening.

Lucifer: “Ah, I was just going over the final details. It’s a relief to see you—you have a calming effect, even on someone like me.”

You share a quiet moment, the crackling of the fireplace filling the silence. Lucifer pours you a glass of Demonus, his movements elegant.

Lucifer: “The Infernal Gala represents unity, strength, and peace. But for me… it’s also a reminder of how far we’ve come.”

He gazes at you, his eyes filled with warmth.

Lucifer: “You’ve been a part of that journey. More than you realize.”

The calm shatteres

The next morning, you are in the gardens of the House of Lamentation, enjoying a rare moment of peace. The sky is a deep, rich purple, with faint stars twinkling above. Beelzebub joins you, carrying a tray of snacks.

Beelzebub: “You’ve been quiet today. Something on your mind?”

You: (smiling softly) “Not really. Just thinking about how calm everything feels right now. It’s… nice.”

Beelzebub: (sitting beside you) “Yeah. Feels like it’s been a while since things were this peaceful. Lucifer hasn’t yelled at anyone today, and Mammon hasn’t set anything on fire… yet.”

You both share a laugh, but before the moment can last, a faint tremor shakes the ground. Beel jumps to his feet.

Beelzebub: “What was that?”

A ripple of energy passes through the garden, and several flowers wilt instantly. The air feels charged, heavy. You feel a faint pulse from your pact mark, though you don’t fully understand it yet.

You and Beel rush inside the House of Lamentation, where chaos has already begun. Furniture is floating, magical items are malfunctioning, and the brothers are in disarray.

Mammon: (running around) “Somebody fix this! My wallet turned into a bat and flew off! That’s my life savings in there!”

Leviathan: (clutching his D.D.D.) “Do you know how many hours of gameplay I just lost?! This is worse than the Great Reset of Akuzon Prime!”

Lucifer: (trying to remain composed) “Everyone, calm down. Panicking will accomplish nothing.”

Belphegor: (yawning) “Wake me when this is over. Or don’t. I’m fine either way.”

You notice your pact mark faintly glowing whenever the chaos intensifies. Asmodeus steps in, looking alarmed.

Asmodeus: “Is it just me, or does the energy in the house feel… weird? It’s like something’s out of sync.”

Before anyone can respond, the chandelier shatters with a loud crash. Lucifer’s patience snaps.

Lucifer: “Enough! Everyone, to the Demon Lord’s Castle—now. Diavolo needs to hear about this immediately.”

Emergency Meeting with Diavolo

The group arrives at the Demon Lord’s Castle. Diavolo greets you all with a worried expression, his usual jovial demeanor replaced by a more serious air. Barbatos stands quietly by his side, his gaze sharp and observant.

Diavolo: “Ah, you’ve arrived. I trust you’ve noticed the disturbances, then?”

Lucifer: “Noticed is an understatement. The House of Lamentation is in complete disarray. What’s causing this?”

Diavolo’s expression tightens, and he motions for you all to take a seat.

Diavolo: “It’s more than just your house, Lucifer. The magical ley lines that run through the Devildom are experiencing unusual fluctuations. Spells are failing, spells are overloading… and the environment itself is becoming unstable.”

Diavolo remains silent for a short while before speaking again.

Diavolo: "Remember when a few months ago the Devildom moon begun moving closer to us? And how MC stopped it with the help of (name of the brother you chose in lesson 60)? I think it might be somehow related to all this.

Barbatos: (nodding gravely) “We’ve been monitoring the situation for the past few weeks, but the source remains elusive. The ley lines should remain stable, but we are seeing powerful surges in energy that we cannot explain.”

Simeon: (calmly interjecting) “It’s a troubling situation, indeed. I’ve been sensing something off as well, but I can’t make sense of it.”

Solomon: (looking up from his scrolls) “The balance between the realms is delicate. It’s entirely possible this disturbance has something to do with the convergence of magical energies—perhaps even beyond our realm’s control.”

Luke: (clutching his little angel staff nervously) “So... we’re all in danger?”

Mephistopheles: (snickering from the corner) “Well, that depends on what you call ‘danger.’ There’s always a way to spin these things to our favor, you know.”

Raphael: (stoically) “We need to investigate this matter thoroughly. If there’s a threat, we’ll need to handle it swiftly, for the sake of everyone’s safety.”

Thirteen: (suddenly appearing with a slight chuckle) “It’s always so serious when you guys talk like this. How about we enjoy the chaos a little bit?”

The group’s attention is drawn back to Diavolo, who remains focused despite the tension.

Diavolo: “We’ve heard your concerns. But I must ask, how does this all relate to the Infernal Gala? If these disturbances continue, it could be catastrophic.”

Lucifer: “The Gala is already under heavy scrutiny. If the realm’s stability is at risk, Diavolo, this could be a catastrophic blow to the reputation of the Devildom.”

Asmodeus: “Oh, I can’t imagine the disaster. The Gala’s atmosphere would be ruined if the magical energies continue to fluctuate like this. People will notice, and chaos would break out if they suspect anything is wrong.”

Beelzebub: (his voice low and serious) “If things continue like this, there’s a real danger of even the food and drinks being affected. Imagine the mess if everything starts malfunctioning at the event.”

Lucifer: “Exactly. And with all the high-profile guests we’re expecting… We must act swiftly.”

Diavolo stands up, his usual warmth replaced by a rare intensity.

Diavolo: “For now, I ask all of you to stay vigilant. If you notice anything unusual—anything at all—report it immediately. The Gala must go off without a hitch, for the sake of maintaining peace and stability. But we must also prepare for the possibility that something more sinister is at play.”

Barbatos: (calmly) “We will continue investigating, but please, if you feel anything strange—if there’s any oddity you experience—don’t hesitate to tell us. The more information we have, the better.”

Lucifer: (looking directly at you) “You, especially. I’m sure you’ve felt it, too. These disturbances seem… connected to you.”

The room falls silent again as all eyes shift toward you. You feel a weight settling on your shoulders, the pressure building.

Diavolo: (smiling reassuringly) “You’ve done well so far. But now, we must prepare for whatever comes next. The Gala is crucial, but our first priority must be understanding the root cause of these events. If there’s a connection between you and this instability… we’ll need to address it quickly.”

As you nod in response, a sense of foreboding fills the air. The once-bustling preparations for the Gala seem like a distant memory now, overshadowed by the uncertainty surrounding the disruptions.

A talk with Solomon

After the emergency meeting, you wander through the halls of the House of Lamentation, the weight of the situation pressing on you. The magical disturbances, the instability in the Devildom... you feel like you're on the edge of something bigger, but you can't quite grasp it.

A soft voice interrupts your thoughts.

Solomon: "You're still awake, huh? I figured you might be here."

You turn and see Solomon leaning against the doorframe, his usual playful expression replaced by one of concern. He steps into the hallway, his gaze never leaving you.

You: “I don’t understand any of this… It feels like everything’s connected, but I don’t know how or why.”

Solomon walks up to you, his footsteps slow and deliberate. He looks at you with a knowing look, as though he’s been waiting for this conversation.

Solomon: “I can see why you’re confused. The fluctuations... the disruptions in the ley lines, they’re not random. They’re a result of your presence here.”

You: (frowning) “My presence?”

Solomon: (nodding) “It’s complicated. There’s something about your connection to the brothers, your dual pacts, that’s causing the instability. It’s as if the power between you and them is... too much for the realms to handle.”

You feel a jolt of realization. The dual pacts. You hadn’t thought about the significance of them, but it makes sense now. Solomon's words seem to echo in your mind, each one a small revelation.

You: “So... you think the dual pacts are the reason this is happening?”

Solomon hesitates for a moment, then nods, his eyes serious.

Solomon: “I’m beginning to suspect that’s the case. The way your power interacts with theirs... it’s creating more energy than the ley lines can accommodate. It’s like a pressure building up, and when too much energy is focused in one place, the balance of the realms starts to break down.”

You swallow, trying to process it all. Your mind races through everything you’ve experienced—the strange pull of the pact mark, the disruptions, the growing tension. It all leads back to the pacts.

You: “But why now? Why is this only happening now?”

Solomon: (with a sigh) “It didn't start now. Actually it's been going on for a while now. Remember how the moon was getting progressively closer and closer a few months ago? I suspect that's also due to your magic. But for all I know the dual pacts were never meant to be this powerful. They’re an anomaly.”

You: “So, everything that’s happening... it’s my fault?”

Solomon: (softly) “Not your fault. But your presence, your bond with the brothers—it’s a key factor. I should’ve been more cautious. I knew the pacts were risky, but I didn’t expect something like this would happen.”

You feel your heart race as you try to understand the magnitude of what Solomon is telling you. The chaos, the disruptions... you feel like you’re at the center of it all, and it’s terrifying.

You: “How do we fix this?”

Solomon takes a step closer, his gaze softening. His hand gently rests on your shoulder, and you feel a comforting warmth from his touch.

Solomon: “We’ll figure it out. Together. The brothers... they’re linked to this too, and we’ll need their help. But we can’t do it alone. The dual pacts are too unpredictable.”

For a moment, you both stand in silence, the weight of his words settling in. The chaos, the stakes... it feels like everything is changing too fast. Yet, with Solomon’s presence, there’s a sense of calm. You find comfort in his understanding.

You: “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Solomon smiles, but there’s a warmth in his eyes that makes your heart flutter, though he doesn't say anything for a moment. He simply pulls you into a gentle embrace, holding you close, offering a silent promise.

Solomon: “You’ll never have to find out.”

You lean into his chest, the tension in your body slowly melting away. His heartbeat is steady against your ear, and for the briefest moment, the world outside feels a little more bearable.

Solomon: “We’ll fix this. We’ll make sure the Gala goes off without a hitch, and we’ll find the cause of all this. But until then... just know that I’m here.”

You look up at him, your voice quiet but firm.

You: “Thank you, Solomon. I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel like I’m... not alone in this anymore.”

Solomon’s smile deepens, and he leans in, brushing a soft kiss against your forehead.

Solomon: “You’re never alone, MC. Not with me by your side.”

The Pact’s Secret Emerges

Later that evening, while the brothers are asleep, you are drawn to the library by an inexplicable force. You find an old book glowing faintly on the shelf and open it. The pages are filled with ancient symbols you can’t understand. Suddenly, a familiar voice interrupts you.

Barbatos: (appearing silently behind you) “Curious, isn’t it? That book is one of the oldest records in the castle. It documents the nature of pacts and their potential… consequences.”

You jump in surprise, quickly closing the book.

You: “Barbatos! You scared me. I didn’t mean to—”

Barbatos: (smiling slightly) “You needn’t apologize. It’s no coincidence that you were drawn to this book.”

Barbatos steps closer, his gaze calm but piercing.

Barbatos: “Tell me, since your return from the past, have you noticed anything… unusual? A change in your magic, perhaps? Or a resonance with the brothers’ powers?”

You stiffen.

You: “What do you mean by ‘return from the past’? How do you know about that?”

Barbatos: (tilting his head slightly) “I am the steward of time. There are few events that escape my notice.”

Your eyes widen. You clutch the book tightly, unsure of how to respond.

You: “I… I haven’t told anyone except Solomon. How much do you know?”

Barbatos: “Enough to understand that your journey was no mere coincidence. It was necessary, though its ripple effects are only now beginning to manifest.”

You: “Ripple effects…? Are you saying all of this—the disturbances in the Devildom—are my fault?”

Barbatos: (softly) “Fault is a strong word. Responsibility, perhaps. But do not misunderstand—your presence here is essential. You hold the key to stabilizing the realm.”

Barbatos’ gaze sharpens as he steps closer, his voice lowering to a near whisper.

Barbatos: “However, I must warn you: secrets have a way of surfacing when the time is right. The truth will not remain hidden forever—not from the brothers, nor from yourself.”

He gestures toward the glowing book.

Barbatos: “Keep this between us for now. But be vigilant. The bonds you share with the brothers are deeper and more intricate than even you realize.”

After the encounter, Barbatos is in his room, standing over a magical map of the Devildom. Glowing lines represent the ley lines, which are flickering and unstable. He traces his fingers over the map, frowning as he notices a disturbing pattern.

Barbatos: (to himself) “The fluctuations are growing stronger, converging toward a single point. If this trajectory continues…”

He pauses, his expression darkening.

Barbatos: “…even the combined power of the brothers may not be enough to stop what’s coming.”

The map reveals the convergence point glowing ominously—a location deep within the Devildom that remains unidentified.

[perpetualfox]

Oh my god smug Gaz goading you to be a brat so Price’ll take his frustrations out on you (instead of him)

Make Me - Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick and John Price x Fem!Reader [NSFW]

Warnings: Dub-Con, Brat Taming, Rough Handling

Wordcount: 1398

Gawrsh this took forever. I changed the vibes of it so many times, maybe I'll post the scraps of the other versions some day. Until then: this.

→“Spread your legs for me.”

→You lean back against the warm expanse of Price’s chest, a lazy grin sliding across your face. Gaz’s weight presses down on you, comfortably heavy in your lap; his hips slotted against your own, strong thighs caging you in on either side. You tip your chin up with a defiant air—it’s cheeky and playful, but defiant, nonetheless.

→“Make me.”

→“Ohhh, are you sure you wanna do that, babe?” Gaz’s eyes shine in the low light, a lopsided grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Don’t start something you’re not ready to finish.”

→“I absolutely can finish it,” You buck your hips up, grinding your bare pussy hard and slow against him. The slick slide of your flesh against his cock—still frustratingly clothed in the thin grey cotton of his boxer shorts—pulls a groan from the pit of his chest. He twitches against you, and all of a sudden, you can really feel him: he’s filling out nicely by the second, chubbing up against the warm press of your body. You roll your hips again, a contented sigh on your lips as the length of him catches against your clit, “And you couldn’t stop me.”

→“Could so.”

→“Then prove it. You want me to spread my legs? Fucking. Make. Me.”

→And you knew he could. If he so desired, he could have you on your stomach, his tongue buried to the root in your pussy before you could even blink. He could hold you there, thighs spread so far apart your hips creaked in protest, until he’s had his fill of you; until you were sobbing his name; until it was the only coherent world your lips could form. And yet, he hasn’t.

→Why?

→The pleasant rumble of Price’s voice vibrates up through your back, “Play nice.”

→There’s a threat beneath the words—the growl of distant thunder on a picnic perfect afternoon. You know you shouldn’t push him, but oh how that tone makes you want to. It would be so easy—the words were all but pulling on your tongue, burning at the base of your throat.

→You lock eyes with Gaz, and it’s as though he can see into you, reading your thoughts as they surface in your mind. His expression is grave, a stern knot forming between his brows. He tilts his head, looking down at you with dark, serious eyes. The message is silent, but clear: don’t.

→You almost think better of it.

→Almost.

→“Make me, old m—”

→And Price’s hand is at your throat. On some level, you knew you were making a mistake, but it wasn’t until that large, calloused fist closed around your neck that you came to understand the sheer gravity of it. Your breath catches beneath the press of his fingers, and you can feel your eyes going large and round, eyebrows shooting up toward your hairline as you fight not to struggle against him.

→The serious edge of Gaz’s expression melts away, and in its place rises something else—something infinitely more frightening. He looks…smug. Terribly, terribly smug—the very picture of the cat who got the cream, and it’s then that you realize: you’d fallen right into his trap.

→‘Don’t,’ his eyes had said, but he had known you would. Of course he’d known.

→“Oh no.” Price’s voice is a growl, low and gravelly in your ear, “That shit doesn’t fly with me. Gaz might put up with it, but I—” His fingers tighten around you, constricting your throat just enough that you feel it; a buzzy, light-headed sensation at the very back of your skull. It’s enough to make your heartbeat kick up beneath his fingers, “…I am not Gaz. Understood?”

→“Y-Yes, Sir.”

→He barked out a laugh at that, “Oh, so it’s ‘Sir’ now, is it? What happened to ‘old man?’”

→“I-I…um…”

→“Shut up.”

→Your jaw snaps shut with an audible click.

→“So, you do have some sense. Good.” And with that, Price begins to move. His free hand trails down your body, thick fingers skimming across your flesh: your clavicle, your sternum, your stomach, coming to rest at the apex of your thighs. Gaz slid back, tilting his hips up, allowing Price room to maneuver with a hungry glint in his eyes. Those calloused fingers slipped between your clenched thighs with an ease that shocked you—as though he had met with no resistance at all. God, he could do anything he wanted to you, and what could you do to stop him? The idea sent a little thrill through you, a gush of wet heat blooming between your thighs.

→A shudder goes through you as his fingers find your clit, rubbing a tight, rough circle into the sensitive bud. Though his touch does not linger, it leaves you breathless, practically panting for more. He presses forward, fingers slipping against your slick flesh.

→“Is this what gets you off, eh? Being a disobedient little pest?”

→Your cheeks feel hot, your face burning up under his scrutiny. Though you open your mouth, your retort, whatever it may have been, tapers off into a broken gasp as he presses two thick fingers into you.

→“You might think you can act a brat with me, but you’re wrong. You haven’t the spine to do it proper; a hand around your throat and you roll right over.” His breath tickles against the nape of your neck. “But I’ll give you a chance—prove me wrong.”

→He crooks his fingers inside of you, rubbing hard against something that makes your vision fill with flickering stars. Your walls spasm around him and he laughs, fingers stroking relentlessly into that spot, “Go on then.”

→You bite your lip, trying desperately to think through the waves of pleasure that roll over you with each stroke of his fingers, but to no avail. A high, keening whimper slips past your lips. Gaz croons above you, a soft, almost condescendingly sweet sound, “Aww, baby! Does it feel that good?”

→Price’s hand slides up from your throat and grips your chin, his fingers digging into the meat of your cheeks. He turns your head none too gently, forcing you to look into his eyes.

→“That really all it takes? Just two fingers stuffed up your cunt, and you go brainless and pliant?”

→He looks to Gaz, a smile, wicked and keen as the edge of a knife spreading across is face, crinkling the corners of his eyes, “Pathetic, isn’t?”

→Gaz’s expression was a young mirror to Price’s, the sharp points of his teeth poking out between his plush lips, “Utterly.”

→“Now,” Price squeezes your cheeks together, “Look at me.” It takes you a moment for your eyes to focus, the heavy press of Price’s fingers inside of you, and the sight of Gaz, looming above you, his perfect cock leaking into his boxers mere inches from your fingers, it’s no easy task. Still, Price waits until he has your full attention.

→“There you are. The Sergeant gave you an order, didn’t he?” He bobs your head up and down, before turning your face back toward Gaz. He’s looking down at you with hooded eyes, warm and brown, and full of want.

→He’s practically glowing, basking in his triumph, and it’s beautiful. He’s beautiful.

→Price’s chin comes down to rest upon your shoulder, digging into the pressure point in your neck.

→“I suggest you do as he tells you. Or—” He slips his fingers out of your tight heat. “I’ll make damn sure you don’t get yours.” A sob tumbles from your lips as you buck your hips, trying to follow his fingers; to follow the pleasure he’s trying to deny you. You’re empty, desperately so after the stretch of his thick fingers—it was all you could do not to cry, to fall back against him and beg for something inside of you. “Understood?”

→You nod, but it isn’t enough. His hand comes down hard against your pussy. You jolt under his hand, a hoarse cry tearing loose from your throat.

→“Understood?”

→It takes you a moment to find your voice, thin and wavering as it is, “Y-Yes, Sir!”

→“Good. Sergeant?”

→Gaz’s smile is radiant as he leans in to caress your cheek. His palm is warm, his tough achingly tender.

→“I win. Now, open up, Sweetheart.”

→And you do.

→“Good fucking girl.”

[abirddogmoment]

I love seeing Rory run in the field!! Bird dog doing bird dog things!! You said in the tags you had different training and priorities with her vs Mav re: offleash running like that. What kinds of things did you do differently with Rory to be comfortable having her offleash at a distance with reliable recall?

I was writing a whole novel but really it boils down to this chart. Under the cut because it's (vertically) long.

In short, it's just as much about what I didn't do with Maverick as what I did do with Aurora.

(Edited to add: I am extremely fortunate to live in the prairies where the kind of visibility I need is easy to find. Use my experience to inspire your own training if you like, but don't use it as a recipe. I have my own goals and my own priorities and those are likely different than yours.)

Maverick:

🔵 Supremely confident from day 1

🔵 Came home in August (extremely good and exciting time for outdoor adventures)

🔵 Prioritized specific sports behaviours over foundational building blocks like engagement and cooperation

🔵 Learned bad habits from my older dog at the time (prey drive > recall)

🔵 Was indiscriminately prey driven. If it moved, he wanted to kill it.

🔵 I phased out treats too fast and didn't want to use an ecollar or long line

🔵 I focused on "social media dog behaviours" (think like walking extremely close to me on trails) and got frustrated when we couldn't meet these rather than meeting my dog where he was at. This created a lot of frustration in our dog adventures.

🔵 I practiced recalls constantly when I didn't have to, making them a tedious behaviour for him. I would recall him 20-50 times a hike for everything from "you're too far away from me" to "I want to take a photo".

Aurora

🟣 Came to me a little insecure and looked to me for reassurance

🟣 Came home in December (a cold and relatively boring time for outdoor adventures)

🟣 I prioritized engagement, cooperation, and name recognition from day 1

🟣 Practiced good habits by walking offleash in the snow either alone or with Pike (amazing recall)

🟣 Is extremely birdy, but is very very focused. She easily calls off deer or people/dogs in the distance because she mostly cares about birds.

🟣 Literally always gets offered a high value snack for recalling or voluntary check ins (I will never phase this out, I will carry chunks of cheese on offleash walks for the rest of her life)

🟣 I never practice recalls if I don't need them. This one is hard to explain, but once Rory understood that long whistle = come back as fast as you can, I don't whistle unless I really need to. I recall her an average of 0-3 times per hike (*based on visibility or wildlife*) and trust her to make good decisions otherwise. I keep my eyeballs on her 100% of the time and choose areas with good visibility, but I don't recall her just for being far away.

🟣 I limit hikes where I have to nag her often (think, in the woods where I dont have a great line of sight and have to remind her to stay close to me) to a few times a month or less so she doesn't start getting frustrated about it.

🟣 I trust the training I put into her and choose to run her in areas with (relatively) reduced risk if she makes the "wrong" choice. I don't nitpick everything she does and I let her make her own choices, within reason.

🟣 I have an interrupter cue to ask her to stop doing something before I call her back (if she's digging a hole and I want her to move on, I use "Rory, enough! Here!") instead of whistling at her.

🟣 I don't force her attention on check ins. If she runs back to me and doesn't want a snack and wants to run straight back out, I let her run back out.

🟣 I have anticipatory cues for the end of a walk so I don't have to recall her when we get to the end of the field.

I want to say that it's nerve wracking to watch my dog sprint at full speed hundreds of yards away from me. I have to fight the impulse to recall her just because she's far away. It's an exercise in trust because I'm always worried about her going over the horizon, or running into a wildlife, or falling into a hole, but it's an important thing to work on if you have a dog that needs that trust to thrive.

Mav and I were a good team, but I never fully trusted him outdoors. I always had my finger on the ecollar buttons ready for him to do an evil and need to be vibrated. It was exhilarating to watch him in the field, but it wasn't really fun or relaxing.

Rory and I built a much stronger foundation of trust (I personally never would have been able to do this if I had more than one dog). She doesn't know any tricks yet, but I'm super confident in her recall and ability to take direction in the field, even when she's sprinting as fast as possible.